Jonathan sat in his office, shuffling through a stack of paperwork, his brow furrowed in concentration. The steady hum of the building provided a muted backdrop—until the door burst open. Mrs. Stone stormed in, her eyes blazing with barely contained fury.

  “Oh, Mia, what a pleasant surprise,” Jonathan greeted her with a warm smile that failed to reach his eyes. Without hesitation, she advanced, conjuring a blade of water that hovered threateningly near his neck.

  “Why the hell did you send two of my students to detention with that lunatic?” Mia snapped, voice seething with outrage. “Anastasia is unstable! You know what she's capable of.”

  Jonathan leaned back in his chair, his smile unwavering. “They were caught engaging in destructive behavior,” he explained calmly. “This is the third time Iris has decided to redecorate a room with fire. And as for Anya—she had a chainsaw. Still trying to figure out where she got it.”

  Mia’s grip on the water blade tightened, her glare boring into him. “You don't pay me enough for this nonsense,” she muttered. Almost as if on cue, the venus flytraps in the room stirred—their thick stems and wide, toothed mouths silently echoing his taunt.

  “Careful, Mia,” Jonathan teased. “You know how my plants feel when you start discussing pay raises.”

  Mia gritted her teeth, her water blade flickering. “Just let them out, Jonathan. A couple of hours locked in with that psycho isn’t something kids should endure. Not even Iris and Anya deserve that.”

  He chuckled, his eyes gleaming with amusement. “I’ll let them out—in an hour or two. They need to cool off.”

  Mia’s jaw tightened. “Fine. If you won’t listen, I’ll find someone who will.” With that, she turned on her heel and stormed out, leaving the door slamming behind her. Jonathan’s smile faded slightly as he returned his gaze to the paperwork scattered across his desk.

  Minutes later, Mia crashed into Wallace’s office with a force that nearly ripped the door from its hinges. The loud bang startled Wallace from his nap at a cluttered desk, sending papers fluttering to the ground. Bleary-eyed, he looked up as Mia as she conjured a swirling ball of water and lobbed it at him.

  “Rise and shine, sleeping beauty,” she sneered as the water soaked his shirt and drenched his paperwork.

  “What the hell was that for?” Wallace groaned, shaking water from his hair.

  Mia didn’t waste time. “I need your help. Jonathan's being a complete ass,” she said bluntly, arms folded in frustration.

  Wallace sighed and grabbed a towel, drying his face. “What did Jonathan do this time?”

  “He threw two of my students in detention,” Mia explained, pacing. “And you can probably guess who’s watching them.”

  Wallace rubbed his temples. “Anastasia. Of course. That trigger-happy psycho is still on duty?”

  “She’s more unhinged than ever, and Jonathan’s keeping the kids locked up for at least an hour,” Mia continued, tension mounting in her voice.

  Wallace dropped the towel, frowning. “Those kids shouldn’t have to endure an hour with her. They’ll need therapy after five minutes.”

  With a resigned sigh, Wallace pushed himself up and followed after Mia. “At the very least, we’re going to get an explanation out of him. And if that means knocking some sense into Jonathan along the way… so be it.”

  Mia smirked and strode out. “Finally, some teamwork around here.”

  The detention room vibrated with tension as Iris and Anya exchanged a charged glance. Despite their bitter animosity, an unspoken understanding passed silently—they needed to work together if they were going to escape.

  At the front, Anastasia sat, eyes intermittently lifting from her magazine to watch them. Iris, summoning a small, flickering flame at the tip of her finger, nodded subtly toward Anastasia—an unspoken cue to make a move. Anya, reading the signal, reached into her earring and produced a tiny, metallic grenade. As she pulled the pin, the object glinted ominously in her palm, her eyes never leaving their captor.

  In unison, Iris launched a rapidly expanding fireball while Anya hurled the grenade. The two projectiles arced toward Anastasia, but at the last second, her head tilted ever so slightly; her eyes shone with a piercing, vivid light. In an instant, two pistols materialized in her hands. With lightning speed, her fingers squeezed the triggers, sending two precise shots that detonated the fireball and grenade midair in a blinding flash and deafening roar. The explosion scattered shards of metal and embers as the smell of gunpowder filled the room.

  When the haze cleared, Anastasia’s glowing eyes swept over the scene. “My ability lets me see a few seconds into the future whenever an attack is launched at me,” she said, her voice calm and unnervingly cheerful, as if discussing the weather. “So if you two thought you could surprise me, think again.”

  She slowly leveled her pistols at Iris and Anya, her fingers resting lightly on the triggers. “Now listen up—no more words, and definitely no more escape attempts,” she warned, her tone hardening. “Otherwise, we’re going to have a much less pleasant conversation.”

  For a heavy moment, the room was silent as Iris and Anya weighed their options. Then, in a defiant display, Iris’s fiery bow materialized in her hand, flames licking along its length. Simultaneously, Anya’s earring shimmered once more, releasing a sleek, silver chainsaw that roared to life as she gripped its handle.

  Anastasia’s eyes narrowed, and a wicked grin spread across her face. “Oh, you’re bold,” she murmured, setting aside her magazine with a casual flick. “Fine then. If it’s a fight you want, let’s make it interesting.”

  The room came alive with clashing wills. Anya lunged forward, the roar of her chainsaw filling the air as she aimed for Anastasia’s midsection. The spinning chainsaw’s metallic teeth glinted, but Anastasia sidestepped with fluid grace, her smirk unyielding. “Too slow,” she teased. In a swift pivot, she spun around, her pistols now trained on Iris, who was already taking aim with her flaming bow.

  Iris unleashed a barrage of fiery arrows, each blazing trail a testament to her anger. Anastasia darted and weaved through the onslaught, her movements so precise it seemed she anticipated every shot. “It’s been a while since someone tried to escape detention,” Anastasia laughed, a blend of thrill and condescension in her tone.

  Landing deftly on her feet, she raised both pistols and fired. Iris managed to summon a shield of flames just in time—the bullets sizzled and evaporated on contact. But one shot struck Anya square in the forehead. The impact sent a jolt of searing pain through her skull; a red mark appeared, burning without bleeding, as if branded.

  “Did you really think I’d kill a child?” Anastasia taunted, eyes glinting with sadistic delight. “These guns are designed to inflict only immense pain—no blood, no wounds, just agony. I like to keep things clean.” Her mock concern dripped with cruelty.

  Unfazed, Anya gripped her chainsaw tighter and revved it up. “I don’t care what tricks your guns have,” she spat, rushing forward with renewed ferocity.

  Iris released another barrage of fiery arrows, their blazing trails weaving a wide, searing net that warped the surrounding air. Seizing the opportunity, Anya zigzagged forward, using the flaming barrage as cover to close the distance toward Anastasia.

  Anticipating every move, Anastasia’s eyes glimmered with foresight. She flipped over one arrow, sidestepped another, then fired a precise shot at Anya’s leg. The bullet struck true, sending a jolt of pain through Anya’s thigh, but it didn’t slow her down. Gritting her teeth, Anya swung her chainsaw in a sweeping arc aimed at Anastasia’s midsection.

  The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

  In a fluid twist, Anastasia parried the chainsaw with the barrel of one pistol, the metallic clash ringing out as sparks flew. Simultaneously, she aimed her other pistol at Iris, who was already preparing her next fiery assault. Their relentless exchange pushed Anastasia onto the defensive—until a powerful kick from her sent Anya stumbling back, allowing Iris to line up another shot.

  Flaming arrows whistled through the smoky air, forcing Anastasia to shift her focus and dodge repeatedly. Despite the chaos, Anastasia’s amusement was evident as she twirled her pistols and laughed, “You two are fun, I’ll give you that. I heard Johnny’s been subbing in for your combat teacher—poor thing. Maybe I should take the job; Johnny might agree if I ask nicely.”

  Iris and Anya exchanged a tense glance before Anastasia pulled a smoke bomb from her pocket. With a swift toss, she triggered it midair, and the room filled with thick, choking smoke. Blinded, Iris barely reacted before a brutal impact struck her gut—Anastasia’s fist had connected, knocking the wind from her. Before she could even try to recover, Anastasia stood over her, the cold barrel of a pistol pressed against her own temple.

  Anastasia’s eyes glowed as her ability activated, scanning the room with third-person precision. Spotting Anya hidden in the smoke, she fired rapid shots into her legs. The stinging pain forced Anya to collapse, her legs betraying her.

  When the smoke finally cleared, Anastasia stood tall, laughing maniacally. “Where was this psycho when the facility got attacked?” Iris managed to grunt, still on the ground.

  “Oh, I may have faked being sick to go to a concert,” Anastasia quipped, flashing a thumbs-up as if her excuse were normal.

  Iris and Anya groaned in unison, “Unbelievable.”

  But the battle was far from over. Both girls forced themselves back to their feet. Anya, undeterred by the pain in her legs, stashed her chainsaw back into her earring and withdrew a sleek pair of gauntlets.

  “I wonder where a brat like you gets such a handy subspace artifact,” Anastasia remarked, eyeing the earring with suspicion. In a heartbeat, she aimed her pistol and fired at Anya’s ear, knocking the earring clean off. Without pause, she dashed forward, crushing it beneath her boot. “No more items for you,” she sneered.

  “Does she ever run out of ammo?” Anya groaned as she deflected another bullet with her gauntlet, sparks flying on impact.

  “Nope,” Anastasia replied with a gleeful laugh, twirling both pistols. “These beauties are subspace artifacts—infinitely stocked. I could keep shooting until you two pass out.”

  Iris gritted her teeth and unleashed a volley of flaming arrows. “We’re not giving up that easily!”

  The arrows blazed through the air, forming a wide, fiery wall between them and Anastasia. Seizing the moment, Anya surged forward, her gauntlets crackling with energy as she aimed a powerful punch at Anastasia’s midsection.

  Anticipating the move, Anastasia sidestepped effortlessly. “Nice try, but you’ll need more than that,” she taunted before firing another round of bullets. Each shot sent ripples of pain through the girls, yet they pressed on relentlessly.

  Elsewhere, Mia and Wallace stormed down the hall toward Jonathan's office, their determined footsteps echoing. Bursting in, they found Jonathan deep in conversation with Baal, who lounged on the edge of the desk with an unusually warm, affectionate expression.

  “My beloved, it’s truly a blessing for you to be here,” Baal cooed at Mia, his tone dripping with adoration.

  Rolling her eyes but quickly donning a mask of distressed helplessness, Mia pleaded, “Baal, my dear, please help us. Jonathan’s thrown two of my students into detention, and I’m so worried about them. The one supervising that room is a complete psycho.”

  In an instant, Baal’s affectionate fa?ade melted into seething rage. “Authority of gravity, activate,” he commanded. Immediately, the gravity around Jonathan increased tenfold. His chair crumpled, and Jonathan was pinned to the floor, the weight crushing him.

  “How dare you make my future wife cry?” Baal snarled, his eyes blazing.

  Mia’s tone shifted, laced with sly pride. “We’re not getting married—actually, you know what? Keep going, I’m so proud of you, my dear fiancé.”

  Wallace, watching from the sidelines, chuckled quietly. “I’ve wanted to punch him for a while, but watching a Demon King crush him like a tin can is oddly satisfying. Nice manipulation skills, Mia.”

  “I won’t deny,” Mia said with a sly wink, “his devotion is kind of cute.”

  Jonathan gritted his teeth as the gravitational force increased further, nearly swallowing him. “Damn demon… Always so dramatic,” he spat, voice strained.

  Baal softened slightly as he looked at Mia. “Don't worry, my beloved. I’ll make sure he never disrespects you again.”

  Mia stepped forward, her tone icy. “Now, listen up, Jonathan. You have two council members against you. Release my students immediately.”

  Straining under the weight, Jonathan finally muttered, “Fine, I’ll release them. But I’m taking the damages out of your paycheck.”

  Baal’s eyes narrowed dangerously, and the gravity doubled once more. Jonathan felt the floor itself pulling him down. “You dare bargain with her?” Baal hissed.

  “Okay, okay, I won’t touch your paycheck!” Jonathan snapped. “Just let me go.”

  Reluctantly, Baal relented, and the crushing force dissipated. Jonathan gasped for air as he struggled to his feet, glaring at Mia and Baal. “You two are a real pain,” he muttered.

  Mia flashed a playful smirk. “Keep talking, and I might let Baal have some real fun. Come on, let’s get my students out of that detention room.”

  Jonathan chuckled to himself. “Damn, she’s smarter than I thought. She’s got him wrapped around her finger better than I ever hoped.”

  The classroom lay in ruins—scorched walls, shattered desks, and debris scattered everywhere—as remnants of Iris’s flaming arrows and Anya’s laser blasts testified to the ferocity of their battle. Amid the chaos, Anastasia moved with effortless grace, dodging every attack with predatory precision and a thrill in her eyes.

  Anya gritted her teeth and lunged forward, swinging a laser-coated fist at Anastasia. With a deft sidestep, Anastasia evaded the blow and fired a quick shot into Anya’s calf. The impact sent a searing jolt through her thigh, but she pressed on, her chainsaw roaring as she swung it in a sweeping arc toward Anastasia’s midsection.

  In one fluid motion, Anastasia parried the chainsaw with the barrel of one pistol, the metallic clash sparking wildly. Simultaneously, she aimed her other pistol at Iris, who charged in with her flaming bow drawn. Iris released a fiery arrow aimed squarely at Anastasia’s chest, but at the last second, Anastasia dropped low, narrowly avoiding the projectile before springing upward to deliver a powerful punch to Iris’s midsection. Though the blow forced Iris to stagger back, she quickly recovered and drew another arrow as her flames surged with renewed intensity.

  Seizing the moment, Anastasia tossed one of her pistols high into the air and aimed another at her head. As her ability activated—flashes of the near future revealing every incoming attack—she fired at the airborne pistol’s trigger with impeccable timing. The weapon discharged midair, sending a bullet hurtling into Anya’s back. Anya gasped in pain, collapsing to one knee as the burning impact radiated through her.

  With a casual laugh, Anastasia caught the falling pistol, twirling it effortlessly. “I’m just showing off at this point,” she sneered, then sent another ricocheting shot off the wall to clip Iris in the leg, forcing her to collapse onto one knee.

  “She's always one step ahead,” Anya muttered through gritted teeth.

  Iris’s flames flared dangerously, casting an eerie glow over the devastated room. “Enough games!” she shouted, desperation cracking her voice as she gathered every ounce of power. The temperature soared, and the walls began to buckle under the intense heat. With a deep, steadying breath, Iris raised her bow and conjured a massive fireball above her head, while Anya’s gauntlets hummed with a fierce, focused energy, ready to unleash a concentrated laser blast.

  Then, in a sudden, dramatic turn, the door burst open. Splintered wood flew as thick, flower-adorned vines surged into the room, snaking around Iris and Anya before they could react. Anastasia sidestepped the writhing tendrils with calculated ease, watching with a mix of amusement and curiosity as the vines restrained the exhausted combatants.

  At that moment, Jonathan stepped in, his voice cutting through the chaos. “What in the world is happening here?” he demanded, surveying the nearly unrecognizable classroom—a war-torn space with scorched walls and shattered desks, the lingering heat of Iris’s flames still palpable.

  Anastasia smirked as she holstered her pistols with casual flair. “We had some fun, Johnny,” she chuckled. “Maybe just a little too much fun.”

  “She tried to kill us!” Iris snapped, catching her breath as the vines slowly loosened their grip.

  “Aw, come on,” Anastasia waved dismissively. “You’re still standing, aren’t you?” Her smile widened as she turned to Jonathan. “Speaking of which, Johnny, I’ve got a little request. I’m thinking of a career change—how about making me your permanent combat instructor? My skills speak for themselves.”

  “Don't do this—she’s insane!” Anya interjected, wincing as she massaged bruises forming on her legs.

  Jonathan sighed and shook his head. “Fine, I’ll allow it,” he finally said, nodding slowly. “As for you two, head back and get some rest. The joint training exercise is starting tomorrow—you’ll need to be in top form.”

  He released the vines’ hold on the girls, and as they stumbled toward the exit, he added sharply, “And Anastasia, consider your pay docked for the damages. This place is a mess.”

  Anastasia burst into laughter, tossing her hair back. “Worth every penny. These kids have potential—prodigies, really. Though they could use a bit more teamwork.”

  Jonathan raised an eyebrow. “High praise coming from you.” He gestured toward the door. “Now go take your smoke break. There’s plenty of residual fire in the room if you need a light.”

  “Don’t mind if I do,” Anastasia replied with a wink, her laughter echoing as she strode out, leaving behind the lingering scent of gunpowder and smoke.