How to survive in the Romance Fantasy Game

Chapter 608: Grand Continental Festival Interlude

”What do you think happened here...?”

”Beats me...”

With a long, shared sigh, Professor Ferdinand and Dean Gale stood at the edge of the clearing, eyes sweeping across what used to be a section of forest — now reduced to a wasteland.

Ash.

Scorched soil.

Trees split in half, their trunks still smoking, Icy trails among the ground.

Craters large enough to swallow a carriage whole.

The entire area looked as if it had been torn apart by gods fighting — and maybe, in some sense, that wasn’t far from the truth.

Ferdinand rubbed his temples. ”When the principal said there was an anomaly in this sector, I didn’t think this was what she meant.”

Gale crossed his arms, the wind tugging at his coat as his gaze trailed along the twisted landscape.

”It’s worse than that. The entire sector was sealed under a dimensional barrier. Whoever did this wasn’t some rowdy student or random beast attack.”

Ferdinand exhaled through his nose. ”A barrier that even the academy’s surveillance couldn’t pierce. For the whole system to go dark like that...” He looked around, frowning. ”No wonder the principal panicked.”

They’d rushed here the moment the alert came in — alarms blaring, mana sensors going haywire, and live feeds cutting off one by one.

What they found was silence.

The kind that felt wrong.

The trees had been razed to ash.

The air still buzzed with leftover mana — twisted, unstable, like echoes of a storm that refused to fade.

It wasn’t just destruction; it was distortion.

The ground itself seemed... wrong.

Edges of reality frayed, faint colors rippling where the dimensional fold had been forced open, yet somehow fixed...

The two stood in silence for a while.

Finally, Ferdinand sighed again, shoulders heavy.

”By the time the principal broke through the barrier and let the staff in... everything was already over. The fight, the magic, the distortion — all of it just vanished.”

Gale nodded grimly. ”And the students?”

”That’s the strange part.” Ferdinand looked down at his clipboard, filled with names and status reports. ”Every student involved was instantly teleported out of the area and marked as disqualified at the same time. The system did it automatically even with a bunch of broken bracelets right there...”

”Automatically?” Gale frowned. ”That’s not supposed to be possible.”

”Exactly.” Ferdinand lowered the clipboard, tone darkening. ”It’s as if... the system itself obeyed someone’s command.”

The two exchanged a long, uneasy glance.

Ferdinand was the first to speak again, softer this time.

”Still... it’s a miracle no one died. Not even a single fatal wound. A few haven’t woken up yet, but the healers say they’ll live.”

”Heard it was around two teams and a few others...”

Dean Gale muttered, flipping through a stack of reports in his hand. His brow furrowed deeper with every page.

Ferdinand gave a slow nod.

”Yeah. That’s the current estimate. Two full teams caught in the barrier’s range, plus a few individual participants nearby.”

”So, at the end of the day, nothing really happened, huh?” Gale said, tone heavy with sarcasm.

”Well...” Ferdinand scratched the back of his head. ”You could say that.”

Gale shot him a look. ”That doesn’t sound convincing.”

”Because it isn’t.” Ferdinand sighed. ”Look, on paper — sure, nothing ’major’ happened. No casualties, no missing students, no lasting injuries. But look around you.”

He gestured at the ruined expanse before them — craters, charred soil, and broken mana residues hanging in the air like faint dust motes.

”This doesn’t look like nothing to me, Tsk! confusing things like this isn’t really something a man of my age should be tackling into...”

”Anything from the principal yet?” Gale asked. ”Or the investigation team?”

”Not much.” Ferdinand flipped open his communicator, scanning through the latest updates. ”The report says the analysis team didn’t detect anything unusual after the barrier collapsed. The mana traces are... excessive, yes, but stable. Mostly high-tier combat spells and a few that couldn’t even be identified properly.”

”Unidentified spells?” Gale frowned.

”Yep. Like something outside our magic system. That’s what’s making it complicated.”

Gale rubbed his chin. ”And the principal?”

”Hasn’t said a word about it so far.” Ferdinand’s eyes shifted toward the distance. ”She’s still examining the site herself.”

Gale followed his gaze.

A few meters away, Principal Leilah stood among a cluster of academy staff.

Her long coat fluttered slightly in the wind, her amethyst eyes glowing faintly as she surveyed the land.

The faint shimmer of her mana perception spell rippled through the air, forming translucent rings that expanded and vanished around her.

Every few seconds, staff members approached her with notes, crystals, or data scrolls — she’d listen quietly, give a brief nod, then continue her silent observation.

She hadn’t spoken much since she arrived, but her expression said enough.

Something about this incident didn’t add up.

Gale sighed, lowering his gaze. ”If she’s not saying anything, that means she’s already thinking too much. And that never ends well.”

”Tsk...” Ferdinand clicked his tongue. ”I guess we’ll have to tighten the academy’s security again. Triple-check the boundaries, reinforce the dimensional seals, maybe even pull a few professors from research to handle field patrols.”

Gale nodded wearily. ”Add it to the list.”

For a brief second, both men glanced again toward Leilah.

The principal stood still in the distance, eyes glowing faintly — her hand raised as she traced something invisible in the air.

A thin crack of light followed her gesture, like she was outlining the shape of something only she could see.

Her expression didn’t change, but the mana around her trembled.

”By the way, which students were involved in this whole mess?”

Ferdinand finally asked, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

”It’s not every day you get to see Principal Rush lose her composure like that...”

Dean Gale didn’t answer immediately.

The silence dragged for a few seconds before he sighed.

”Well,” he said slowly, ”aside from those foreign elven students... the most notable name involved is Princess Snow.”

Ferdinand froze. ”...E–Excuse me? The princess?”

”Yes.” Gale looked up from the report, meeting his colleague’s wide eyes with a weary expression. ”And also...” He hesitated briefly, then added, ”...Riley Hell.”

For a moment, all the noise around them — the distant shouts of staff, the hum of detection spells — seemed to fade into silence.

Ferdinand’s lips parted slightly, his train of thought derailing completely. Then, after a long pause, he let out a slow exhale. ”Ah... I see.”

It was almost a resigned sigh — the sound of a man who’d realized why everything suddenly made sense.

”Then the matter will probably be wrapped up soon,” he said, half to himself. ”If he’s involved...”

”Exactly.” Gale’s tone was unreadable.

Both men stood there quietly for a while, the tension between them settling into something heavy but familiar — the kind of weary acceptance that came from years of dealing with forces far above their pay grade.

Ferdinand cleared his throat. ”Should we still proceed with the competition?” he asked carefully. ”I mean, with all this chaos...”

Gale’s expression didn’t change. He glanced toward the sky, where the holographic screens were still playing live feed backs of highlights between students.

”...Yes,” he said at last. ”We don’t have much of a choice. The Grand Continental Festival must continue. The competition’s already nearing its final stage, and if we suspend it now over an unexplained incident, it’ll cause unnecessary panic — and ruin the academy’s reputation.”

He closed the folder with a muted snap.

”We’ll keep everything classified. The investigation will remain internal until the principal says otherwise.”

”Understood.” Ferdinand nodded, though his face betrayed exhaustion more than agreement.

He looked around the grounds again — the faint cracks scorched into the soil, the shimmer of fading mana still drifting in the air — and felt that old weight settle in his chest once more.

In all his years teaching at the academy, he’d witnessed countless incidents, student mishaps, and magical anomalies.

But lately... every time that boy’s name appeared in a report, something deep in his bones told him the situation was never simple.

”Riley Hell...” he muttered under his breath. ”That kid again.”

Gale gave him a knowing glance but said nothing. There wasn’t anything to say.

Ferdinand exhaled heavily and rubbed the side of his neck. ”I swear, I’m too old for this...” he murmured.

A faint, humorless chuckle escaped him as he turned toward the distant towers of the academy. ”I need to retire soon,” he added, almost wistfully.

...

”Hey... Reina.”

”Yes?”

”Don’t you think it’s... strange?”

Reina turned to Flamme, who was sitting cross-legged on the grass, still holding the faint glow of her summoning crest in her hand.

Her expression was calm, but her tone carried a trace of uncertainty that immediately caught Reina’s attention.

”What do you mean?” Reina asked.

”I mean...” Flamme paused, glancing up at the bright holographic screens floating in the sky. ”I get that we were doing great and all — we stayed at the top the whole time — but... did we really just win like that?”

”...”

Reina didn’t answer right away.

The others didn’t either.

A quiet breeze passed through their little group, brushing against torn flags and trampled grass — the aftermath of a battlefield that already felt too quiet.

They all knew the reason they’d lasted so long.

It was thanks to Flamme — and her army of elemental spirits that fought tirelessly for them.

Her magic gave them an edge from the start, letting the team rest while her spirits handled most—no all of the heavy work.

But even with that advantage... it didn’t make sense.

Reina looked back up at the rankings projected in the sky.

The names flickered faintly in the light, but the result was unmistakable.

[RANK 1 — TEAM HELL]

Their position had never changed — not once since the start of the day.

Reina crossed her arms, brows knitting slightly. ”It is weird...” she admitted softly. ”Even with your summons, I expected the top houses to at least catch up. The foreign teams, too. But none of them even came close, not even our seniors, even big bro as well...” she mumbled at the end.

Flamme nodded slowly, as if hearing her own doubts spoken aloud.

”Exactly. My spirits aren’t invincible — they can’t hold out forever. And yet... we never even got pushed into a corner.”

The other teammates shifted awkwardly, exchanging glances.

There was no cheering, no excitement, just that uneasy silence hanging over them like a cloud.

Winning should’ve felt good. It didn’t.

”Do you think...” one of them finally spoke, voice quiet, ”...that something happened out there? With the others, I mean?”

Flamme’s gaze stayed fixed on the screen above.

”...Maybe,” she murmured.

For a long moment, no one said anything.

In the far distance, they could still hear the faint buzz of students celebrating, the sound of the festival continuing as if nothing unusual had happened.

But to them — to the ones standing here at the top — it all felt hollow.

”Strange or not, I guess a win’s still a win?”

The grand continental festival’s first day ended in the most unexpected yet expected manner.

....

Meanwhile, at the northern edge of the forest—

The air was cold, the scent of burnt leaves still hanging heavy.

Evelyn stood beneath the half-charred trees, her golden hair faintly glinting under the dying light of dusk.

A faint crunch echoed behind her.

She didn’t even need to turn to know who it was.

”The competition just finished and you’re already here,” Evelyn said with a small smile, her eyes fixed on the fading horizon.

”I could say the same to you.”

From between the trees, Stacia stepped out — calm, composed, and yet her sharp eyes betrayed her irritation.

”You left your team from the start, right?”

”Fufu~ I guess so,” Evelyn replied playfully, clasping her hands behind her back.

For a moment, the two women just stood there in the quiet, the remnants of battle fading into the wind.

”So,” Stacia finally asked, ”how did it go?”

Evelyn tilted her head, gaze dropping to the faint light forming between her palms.

The runes etched across her hands shimmered — glowing in alternating shades of white and blue, twisting and merging like threads of opposing fates.

”Well...” she said softly, her tone carrying both satisfaction and a tinge of regret. ”I wanted her to recall another aspect of herself, but... the one inside her now is probably for the best. She’s stable — for now, at least. The memories she’ll recover, though...” Evelyn’s smile faded slightly. ”Those will be painful.”

Stacia crossed her arms. ”Is that so...”

Evelyn looked back up, her expression shifting into something curious. ”And you? How did it go with your other self?”

”...I did fine.”

”Only fine?” Evelyn teased.

Stacia exhaled slowly through her nose.

”Let’s just say... I had to restrain her again. She tends to get a bit too excited when it comes to her training methods.”

That earned a quiet chuckle from Evelyn.

”That’s probably for the best. We can’t have her tearing the forest apart again, can we?”

”Tch.” Stacia looked away. ”You say that as if you didn’t enjoy the last time.”

Evelyn’s eyes curved with amusement. ”Maybe a little~”

A moment passed. The playful tone faded as both their expressions grew more serious.

”So,” Stacia said, lowering her voice, ”what now?”

Evelyn hummed thoughtfully.

”For now... we wait.”

Her gaze wandered up toward the twilight sky where faint traces of residual magic still shimmered like cracks in glass.

”We’ve already pushed too far by interfering with Seo’s trial. Tethering fate that close to collapse was risky even for me.”

Her fingers brushed the edge of a floating rune, and it dissolved like mist.

”Still,” she continued, ”it looks like Asmodeus has been taken care of, and the system’s flow has realigned. Everything’s stabilizing... just as planned. Now, all that’s left is to see what Riley decides.”

At the mention of his name, Stacia’s eyes narrowed.

”.....”

Her expression didn’t change much, but there was something unspoken there — yet she didn’t bother to voice it.

Instead, she sighed quietly and nodded.

”Alright.”

Evelyn smiled faintly, closing her eyes as the wind picked up around them.

”Good. Then let’s just hope he chooses correctly this time again~”