The Headmaster's gaze darkened. She dusted off the scorch mark left on her robes.

  "So, finally, you crawl out of whatever hole you've been hiding in, Kintovar," she sneered with malice. "Do you have any idea—?”

  Kintovar, without breaking eye contact, pulled her pink headphones from over her neck up to her ears then tilted her head ever so slightly and made an "I-can't-hear-you" gesture with a smirk.

  The Headmaster's eye twitched.

  "You insufferable—"

  Kintovar pointed at her own ears and then twisted her fingers.

  "Oh Sorry. Gonna have to speak up, sweetheart."

  The vein on the Headmaster’s forehead bulged.

  Kintovar’s smirk widened. She tapped on her pink headphones. “it seems my technology’s music is outperforming your ego. You might wanna stop speaking with so much of it.”

  The Headmaster’s composure snapped.

  “Take those ugly things OFF!”

  Kintovar, still adjusting the fit of her headphones paused. Then, she tilted her head slightly. "Headmaster Aimathema."

  Silence descended.

  The battlefield now felt unnaturally still.

  The weight of that name hung in the air like a curse.

  Aimathema’s silver eyes widened for a fraction of a second—before her entire face twisted.

  Kintovar’s grin only widened. “Actually, I prefer Aim for you but, y’know… that’s something you can’t do right.”

  Then she threw her head back and let out a loud, "Ohohohoho~!"

  Roselle gasped audibly.

  Becky, standing beside Kintovar grinned and muttered, “Damn, she’s really doin’ it.”

  Sybil, on the other hand had an alarmed look and whispered, “I don’t think that was wise…”

  Aimathema’s glare sharpened. “Kintovar,” she said slowly. “you come here and try to make a mockery of me?”

  Aimathema stepped forward, the earth beneath her lightly cracked from the sheer force of her presence. “This is why I got rid of the other scientists.”

  The air grew dense.

  Kintovar’s laughter halted.

  Aimathema’s molten silver eyes bore into her. “Including,” she continued with a slow, deliberate smile, “your dear old friend.”

  For the first time—Kintovar’s sunglasses lowered just enough to reveal a pair of burning, rage-filled eyes.

  Aimathema saw it. She saw the change. And she pushed further.

  “These ‘creations’ you cherish so much?” Aimathema gestured toward Roselle,Risebelle and Runebelle. “They are amockery of the very essence of magic.”

  She exhaled slowly. “The scientists were a liability. And their technology?”

  She smirked.

  “It threatened the balance of power.”

  Aimathema and Kintovar stared each other down.

  Neither flinched.

  Neither blinked.

  Then—

  Kintovar took a slow step forward. “You may not believe in Technologic Magic, but it exists.”

  Aimathema’s smile twitched.

  Kintovar lifted her hand and gestured to Roselle, Risebelle, and Runebelle. “They exist. And no matter what self-important delusions you cling to, you cannot deny them. They are living proof of what science and magic can accomplish together—a fusion that transcends conventional understanding.”

  Kintovar’s fingers curled into a fist.

  “These three?” she continued with a deepening tone. “They were created with my heart and soul.”

  Aimathema scoffed. “Spare me the sentimentality.”

  Kintovar’s grin returned.

  “Oh, no no no—” she said and adjusted her sunglasses. “See, that’s the thing.”

  She looked at Roselle. Then at Risebelle. Then at Runebelle.

  Then—she looked back at Aimathema.

  “I’ve discovered something even I didn’t expect.”

  Aimathema’s smirk faded.

  Kintovar spoke more softly. “Roselle. Risebelle. Runebelle.”

  She exhaled.

  “They have souls. They aren’t just vessels for power.”

  Kintovar grinned wider now. “They are individuals.”

  She pulled off her sunglasses completely, revealing fiery eyes. “And they deserve the chance to define their own destinies.”

  Aimathema’s laughter was sharp.

  “Souls?” she repeated. “That’s impossible. Souls are born, not made. What you have created are mere imitations of life. Puppets—nothing more.”

  She flicked her wrist, and an invisible force yanked Risebelle off the ground.

  “You claim they have souls?” Aimathema sneered. “Then tell me—why is it that I can still control them without being able to sense them? Your ‘creations’ are bound to magic’s law and yet, they have no traceable Magic and yet you want me to believe your claim?”

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  She raised her hand. “They were never meant to exist. And if you truly believed in their ‘souls,’ Kintovar, you wouldn’t have them fighting your battles for you. You have merely built stronger weapons, nothing more.”

  Aimathema’s silver eyes burned.

  “And weapons do not have souls.

  Kintovar’s grappling hook shot out with a metallic whirr!

  It snagged onto Risebelle’s waist just as Aimathema’s invisible force tried to tighten around her.

  With a sharp pull, Kintovar yanked Risebelle straight into her arms.

  Kintovar wrapped her arms around her creation.

  Aimathema’s eyes twitched.

  Risebelle froze.

  Then—her face darkened.

  “…Kintovar,” she said with strain.

  Kintovar tightened her grip.

  Risebelle’s eye twitched.

  “Kintovar.”

  Kintovar grinned against her shoulder.

  Risebelle began thrashing.

  “Stop it! You’re embarrassing me!” she hissed.

  She struggled. She kicked. She squirmed.

  Kintovar only chuckled and held her tighter.

  Finally, with a loud sigh, she set Risebelle back down.

  Then—without looking away from Aimathema—she pointed directly at Risebelle.

  “Did you see that?” she asked.

  Aimathema narrowed her eyes.

  Kintovar pushed her sunglasses back up her nose.

  “Emotions.”

  She grinned.

  “Frustration. Embarrassment. Struggle. And most of all? The burning desire to not be touched by me.”

  Dr.Kintovar clasped her hands behind her head and tilted her chin up smugly.

  “You’re tellin’ me that’s the reaction of a ‘mere puppet?’”

  The Headmaster remained skeptical. "Emotions can be simulated, Kintovar. It's a product of their programming, not evidence of a soul."

  Kintovar's gaze remained steady. "I assure you, hag. Their emotions go beyond programming. They have shown kindness, empathy, and desire. These are qualities that cannot be replicated through simplistic algorithms."

  Risebelle crossed her arms. Her cheeks were slightly pink from the earlier contact.“Kintovar’s right,” she muttered.

  Aimathema scowled.

  “We feel emotions,” Risebelle continued while tilting head up defiantly. “We can cry, bleed—everything a so-called ‘real person’ can do.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Although—” she added with disdain, “I’m absolutely disgusted to be compared to filthy humans like you.”

  Aimathema’s eyes flashed.The air around them crackled with restrained psychic force. Her fingers curled inward. Her jaw tightened. Then, with slow, measured venom, she spoke:

  “You are not human. You are not real.”

  Her scowl turned into something uglier.

  “And I will never accept this.”

  Kintovar's shrugged. "It appears we have reached a point where we will never agree. Our perspectives are fundamentally different.”

  Kintovar raised a lipstick container with the label "Lip Glaze." She then turned her attention back to the Headmaster. "Let's return to the matter at hand," Kintovar declared. She held up the Lip Glaze container and shaked it. "This, Headmaster Aimathema, is the key to your defeat."

  Aimathema stared at the Lip Glaze container as if it had personally offended her.

  Her eye twitched.

  “…That little thing?” Her voice spiked in pitch.

  “THAT?!” she barked. “Oh, no, no, no—this has to be another joke.” Her silver eyes burned with fury. “I refuse to believe that thing is the key to my defeat.”

  Kintovar popped the cap off the Lip Glaze. A faint magical glow pulsed from the container.

  “Oho, but it is,” she replied.

  Kintovar smirked. “You weren’t the only one collecting magical energy from the forest, Headmaster.” She twirled the Lip Glaze between her fingers before tossing it up and catching it. “Every time one of your mana extractors was destroyed, mine absorbed the energy that spilled out.”

  Aimathema’s breath hitched.

  That would mean—

  Only one mana extractor remained.

  And if that were the case…

  Her eyes snapped to Kintovar.

  The scientist grinned as realization dawned on the Headmaster’s face.

  “That’s right,” Kintovar said with satisfaction. “I have most of the power from the Mystical Forest. So prepare to lose everything, you hag.”

  Aimathema’s gaze never wavered from Kintovar, but her mind was elsewhere.

  A whisper slithered into her thoughts—Elena’s voice.

  "Headmaster… I’m in position."

  Aimathema’s lips didn’t move. Her response was purely telepathic.

  "Fire the spell."

  "But—"

  "You’ve been charging up for a while. She probably didn’t even notice you moving. Just DO NOT MISS."

  Hidden behind the dense cover of the Mystical Forest, Elena crouched low against an oak. Her fingers trembled—not from fear, but from the sheer power she had been gathering.

  Her chest rose and fell,. The ambient magical energy surged through her and filled every fiber of her being with unstable yet burning intensity.

  She shut her eyes for a second.

  ‘I’m the Headmaster’s right hand… Every minute spent gathering this power… is my chance to prove my worth to her.’

  Her fingers curled tighter around the orb of glowing yellow energy.

  She could still hear Aimathema’s order echoing in her head. Elena bit her lip.

  ‘I want her to look at me and know that I’m useful and maybe…’

  Her throat tightened.

  She shook the thought away.

  This wasn’t time to think about feelings. She had a duty.

  Her eyes snapped open and burned with conviction.

  No one had noticed her. Perfect.

  The pulsating golden sphere in her grasp shrunk into a concentrated sliver of lethal energy.

  Then—

  She launched it.

  A razor-thin streak of pure destruction tore through the battlefield at an unfathomable speed. It struck Kintovar square in the back. Her body jerked forward.

  Her eyes widened.

  "—Hh—"

  The energy expanded.

  A golden sphere of devastation engulfed her in an instant.

  Then—

  It imploded.

  The explosion of force sent a shockwave across the battlefield.

  For a long, horrifying second, nothing moved.

  Then—

  Kintovar’s sunglasses slipped from her face. Her lips parted and she spoke weakly.

  “…No way…”

  Her breath hitched.

  “…I don’t… believe this…”

  Then, her body hit the ground.

  A deafening silence swallowed the battlefield.

  Kintovar lay motionless. Smoke curled from the scorched ground around her. Roselle’s hands shook. Her vision blurred.

  A lump formed in her throat.

  The moment the words left Roselle’s mouth, they pierced the silence like a dagger.

  “DR. KINTOVAR!!”

  Tears spilled from her eyes—too fast, too much.

  She wasn’t over it.

  Runebelle—her sister—was still on her back, limp and cold. She had been trying to keep moving, trying to ignore the pain.

  But now—

  This?

  Her whole world was breaking infront of her.

  Risebelle’s face darkened. She bolted towards Kintovar’s side.

  " Kintovar, get up," Risebelle demanded while grabbing her shoulder. "This isn’t funny. Get. Up."

  Nothing.

  Her grip tightened.

  “Get the hell up, damn it!”

  And then—

  A laugh.

  A slow, rising laugh.

  It slithered through the battlefield—mocking, cruel, venomous.

  Aimathema threw her head back and laughed louder.

  Hysterical. Wicked. Triumphant.

  Her silver eyes burned with sadistic pleasure.

  "You—" She gasped between laughter. "You actually thought—" Another sharp cackle. "That you do anything?!"

  Her gaze snapped to Roselle, whose body shook violently.

  "LOOK AT HER!" Aimathema sneered while pointing at Kintovar’s fallen body. "Your ‘great creator’ IS NOTHING NOW! JUST ANOTHER DEAD SCIENTIST WHO OVERSTEPPED HER BOUNDS!”

  From behind the Headmaster, a calm, unimpressed voice cut through the lingering echoes of laughter.

  "A scientist doesn’t have the body mages do."

  Arlysa stood at the Academy entrance with her dark robes flowing in the twilight wind. Her staff rested against her shoulder.

  "She came in confident…" Arlysa tilted her head slightly with her eyes half-lidded. "...And got killed just as quickly."

  "After all those years chasing her around…" A slow blink. "It ends with one single attack."

  She sighed.

  "Dull," she said. "But fitting."

  Aimathema’s lips curled at the statement. She turned her gaze back to Roselle and the others, drinking in their anguish.

  "Indeed," Aimathema mused. "A fitting end for a foolish woman."

  Her silver eyes narrowed.

  "And now…" She pointed a single finger toward Roselle.

  "Shall we see how long it takes before the rest of her creations follow her into the abyss?"

  Roselle’s breath hitched. She wanted to scream. To curse. To fight.

  But then—her eyes flickered toward Becky and Sybil.

  They hadn’t moved.

  They stood frozen in place.

  Not angered. Not mourning. Just... blank.

  The contrast to their earlier shock was unsettling.

  The sight made Roselle’s stomach twist.

  Then—

  "Ah… and you two…”

  The headmaster’s silver gaze trailed over Becky and Sybil and evaluated them like insects beneath her boot.

  "So, you’re the ones I’ve heard about. The ‘traitors.’" Aimathema gave a wave of her hand. "Hello, you who dared to turn their backs on the Academy because they thought technology was worth something."

  Aimathema chuckled.

  "Well…" Her smirk widened. "I’m sure you can both see for yourselves just how much it was worth."

  She gestured lightly toward Kintovar’s lifeless body.

  Aimathema sighed loudly and tapped her chin. “Tell you what, I’m feeling rather merciful after this glorious victory."

  She pointed at Becky and Sybil.

  "I’ll spare your lives."

  Her voice dripped with condescension.

  "But only if you beg."

  She laughed soft at first—then it grew louder.

  "Come on, now—on your knees, you poor lost things. Show me how much you regret your foolish choices."

  Project Mage