Inside the lounge of the main academic building—

The tremors didn't stop.

They came in intervals.

Each one carrying through the structure in a low, grinding vibration that traveled up through the floors and into the bones of everyone inside.

Glasses rattled on tables.

Chairs shifted slightly across polished flooring.

The large glass walls trembled in place, faint distortions rippling across their surface as the force passed through them.

Another hit.

Stronger.

Closer.

Several people flinched this time, shoulders rising, heads turning instinctively toward the direction of the impact—even though they couldn't see anything beyond the building's exterior.

A man near the center of the room stood abruptly, his chair scraping harshly against the ground.

"What is that!?" he demanded, voice breaking through the controlled quiet that had been maintained for far too long.

That was all it took.

The room threatened to fracture.

Murmurs began rising again, scattered voices overlapping in low, strained bursts.

"That didn't sound like—"

"Is something collapsing—?"

"Should we—"

"Be calm."

Mr. Xiao's voice cut through everything.

Not raised and not forced

But it carried.

He had been leaning against one of the side walls, arms relaxed at his sides, posture casual as if the situation outside didn't concern him in the slightest.

No one had approached him.

No one had tried.

The moment he spoke—

The room froze.

Not completely.

But enough.

A faint sound followed his words—

Not loud.

Not external.

A low, dragging vibration that seemed to pass through the air itself, brushing against their ears in a way that made several people wince without understanding why.

Subtle.

But uncomfortable.

Unsettling.

It passed as quickly as it came.

But the feeling lingered.

Every eye turned toward him.

Xiao pushed himself off the wall with an easy motion, straightening as he adjusted his sleeves lightly, gaze sweeping across the room once before settling.

"That's the threat in the school being taken care of," he said, tone steady.

Another tremor followed his words.

BOOM—!!

Stronger.

The floor shifted just enough for a few people to lose their balance momentarily, hands reaching out to steady themselves against tables or nearby surfaces.

A glass tipped over.

Liquid spilled across the table, dripping onto the floor.

No one cared.

All attention stayed on him.

"Please don't mind the tremors," Xiao continued, his voice unchanged despite the movement around him. 𝒇𝙧𝙚𝓮𝙬𝙚𝓫𝒏𝓸𝓿𝓮𝒍.𝓬𝙤𝓶

He lifted one hand slightly, gesturing in a loose, almost dismissive manner.

"…and think of them like—"

Another tremor hit mid-sentence—

KRMMMM—!!

This one dragged longer.

The walls groaned faintly, the sound traveling along the structure as if something outside had struck the ground with immense force.

A few people visibly tensed, one woman gripping the edge of her chair so tightly her knuckles whitened.

Xiao didn't pause.

Didn't even acknowledge it.

"…turbulence on a flight."

His hand lowered again.

"It will be over soon."

His gaze moved across them again, calm, unbothered.

"Just bear with it for now."

The room stayed quiet.

Not because they believed him fully.

But because they didn't know what else to do.

Several exchanged looks—brief, uncertain, eyes flicking between each other as if silently asking the same question.

'Is that really all this is?'

One of the VIPs swallowed hard, adjusting his posture as he slowly sat back down, though his eyes remained fixed on Xiao.

Another shifted in place, arms folding tightly across her chest, shoulders drawn inward as she tried to steady her breathing.

Skepticism lingered.

Fear didn't leave.

It couldn't.

Not with the ground still reminding them.

BOOM—~

Softer this time.

But still there.

And yet—

No one argued.

No one spoke up again.

Because standing there unbothered was Mr. Xiao, a smile marking his face.

Few dared to be the first to look away.

And so the moment stretched.

Awkward.

Heavy.

Some eyes remained locked onto him, waiting for something more—for reassurance, for explanation, for anything beyond what had already been said.

He gave them nothing.

Just that same composed expression.

Unchanging.

Until the room itself settled into that forced quiet once more.

Held in place not by understanding.

But by him.

——

The chaos didn't stretch for long.

It ended.

Not gradually. Not with pockets of resistance still holding out.

It stopped because there was nothing left to continue it.

Less than two minutes had passed.

And SHU—what remained of its open grounds—had been cleared.

———

Above the main stadium, Redstar hovered.

Her body hung steady against the sky, one leg slightly bent, arms relaxed at her sides.

The white towel around her neck had long since soaked through, no longer white at all. Red smeared across her shoulders, down her arms, streaked along her abdomen and thighs.

Thicker patches clung where impacts had landed—dark, heavy, still sliding in slow lines before dropping away.

Green fluid mixed in with it.

It coated her forearms more heavily, dotted across her torso, splashed along her jawline and cheek in uneven arcs.

A few strands of her hair had stuck together from it, clinging near her face before lifting slightly in the breeze.

She didn't react to any of it.

Below—

The stadium had been turned inside out.

The field no longer resembled anything structured.

The turf had been ripped apart in wide sections, soil and synthetic layers peeled back where impacts had driven through.

Long gouges cut across the ground, some shallow, others deep enough to expose piping and broken supports beneath.

Bodies covered it.

Not placed. Not fallen in any order.

Scattered.

Some lay in pieces—torsos separated clean from hips, limbs strewn meters away from where they should have been.

Others had collapsed in twisted heaps, joints bent at angles that no longer held meaning.

Several had been flattened outright, pressed into the torn field so deeply that only parts remained visible.

The stands hadn't fared better.

Sections of seating had collapsed inward, rows torn free and driven back by force.

Metal supports bent and snapped, leaving jagged ends exposed.

Bodies hung over railings, caught mid-fall, torsos draped while lower halves dangled or were missing entirely.

Others had been thrown higher.

Some had struck the upper levels and stayed there—embedded against walls or wrapped around structural beams, leaving dark streaks where impact had dragged them across the surface.

The air had already begun to change.

Flies gathered first.

They came in clusters, drawn in quickly, settling across exposed surfaces without hesitation.

The sound built in layers—a low, constant buzz that filled the space between everything else.

Birds followed.

A few circled at first, hesitant, wings cutting wide arcs overhead. Then one dropped.

It landed near the edge of the field, head tilting once before stepping forward. Another joined. Then more.

They didn't wait long.

Redstar looked down at it all.