Internet Mage Professor
Chapter 146: One by one

Chapter 146: One by one

Every corner of the island seemed suddenly to close in on the scattered squads of the Black Vale Territory Mana Knights.

On one isolated hilltop, Sergeant Harwin and Private Qali—who had climbed precariously to evade their pursuers—found themselves vulnerable once more.

The roar of the monstrous creatures echoed up the canyon, and from the ridge above, a dozen more tentacle monsters began to descend, slithering around the flanks and sealing off their only escape.

Each step they took triggered falling stones, cutting off the route they had carved with such desperate caution.

Harwin’s heart pounded as he saw the black mass of creatures draw closer—there was no fleeing left. Qali reached for her knife, hands trembling so badly she nearly dropped it.

"Sergeant..." she whispered, voice barely audible. "We... we’ve been surrounded."

Harwin nodded, forcing conviction into his tone: "We hold our ground. We fight. We... we can’t run anymore."

But even as they steeled themselves, the blunt horror of hopelessness swept over them—the world had shrunk to a few meters of rocky ground and the rasping breaths of approaching doom.

—

Elsewhere, Knight Hefta and Lance-Corporal Joss were closing in on what should have been a safer zone—but as they emerged into a muddy clearing, twenty tentacled nightmares flung themselves over the rock-lined perimeter they had hoped to escape through.

Every tree they passed was mobile, every rock hiding another monstrosity.

The black water pool into which they’d ducked became a prison; the creatures were above, around, below—onslaught from every angle.

Joss pressed back against Hefta, trying not to gasp as a thick tentacle whipped past, scraping the wet wood.

The creatures advanced in measured silence, as if aware there was no resistance left. Hefta’s mana-flare flickered and died, and the darkness closed in.

"We stand and we fall together..." Hefta hissed, voice breaking.

Joss swallowed and gripped her arm. "Then let them taste steel first."

But even the lie couldn’t vanish the fear in their eyes—their breaths came fast, hearts pounding in tandem, the world reduced to the grotesque shapes looming at the edge of the darkness.

—

At the old stone quarry outpost, Lieutenant Malen had ordered retreat—but his orders became meaningless once the creatures cut them off from the tunnel.

Malen stood firm in the ruined circle of pillars, bleeding, defying the beasts to come.

He’d sacrificed himself so the others could live. Now, there was no way out for them either; even the rubble behind him shook with the weight of converging foes.

The space he had enacted as a final stand—the creaking metal, the dried blood, the strain of his armor—felt like a shrine to their last breath.

Lieutenant Malen raised his blade and spoke aloud for the first time. "Let them come."

He steadied himself, shoulders sagging, blood pooling at his feet—it seeped into the cracks of the stones, dragging the world down with it. His voice broke, but he held his ground anyway.

The creatures advanced in near-perfect formation, breathing in unison. And Malen froze as the monster’s collective roar subsided into nothingness—an eerie silence that stretched between his own final prayer and the darkness beyond.

—

Corporal Ethik and Knight Lyssa—who had barely crept through the ditch in the dead of night—found themselves swallowed in thick swamp mist.

They’d planned and huddled but the creatures knew the terrain better.

Tentacles erupted from the muck, pinning down two of their comrades before they even realized the attack was happening.

Ethik dove in front of Lyssa, pushing her to safety but taking an elbowed strike to the chest. Lyssa, trembling, rose to run—only to see more tentacles breaking the surface, creeping in fast.

Their breaths were shallow, bodies slick, and they were caught in a web of darkness.

The world was nothing but wet roots, captured screams, and the slow closing jaws of their doom.

—

Knight Brenna’s group had hoped the burned-out enclosure would hold—at least until the dawn—but the creatures had simply pulled apart the gates with barely any effort.

They’d fallen back to stand among the cracked stones, bruised and bleeding, backs turned to each other to guard all angles.

Their prayers were offering to no gods as the creatures closed in like an eclipse swallowing what remained of the light. Brenna cried out a prayer—Saint Aldara, give me strength—but felt her words swallowed up before the next roar came calling her name.

—

In each place, the moment arrived the same way: the creatures paused, heads cocked as if listening.

The world seemed to hold its breath.

The knights looked up, horror-struck, expecting the final advance—and then, inexplicably, the monsters began to fall.

One after another, without attack, without warning, each humanoid twin-tentacle octopus collapsed to the ground.

Many toppled over themselves. Some tumbled off cliffs, others swallowed by their own mass.

The fall was silent or resounding, a sudden tumble of flesh, and in its wake was stillness.

The knights froze, blades shaking in their hands, hearts pounding in their ears.

Sergeant Harwin dropped to one knee, staring at the fallen creatures riddled across the canyon floor. Qali pressed her knife-tip to the dirt, tears blurring her vision. "...They died? Why?"

Hefta and Joss collapsed back into each other in the clearing, staring. Joss whispered, "They... just... dropped. Where’d their fight go?"

Lieutenant Malen staggered forward, blade quivering as he touched the cold stone. He scooped dust into his battered glove. "I—I don’t understand. They... they just... died?"

Ethik and Lyssa slipped out of the ditch and looked wide-eyed into the swamp. "They... they collapsed... together?"

Brenna, still gripping her runeblade, examined a collapsed creature’s lifeless body. The tumor-sacks that had pulsed moments before were deflated, brittle. She let out a breath—sharp and broken. "They’re... gone."

And for the first time since the invasion began, silence returned.

—

Each group, from their isolated sanctuaries, looked up at the sky and asked in the same astonished tone:

"They... died?"

Of course, they hadn’t expected perfection.

They’d embraced the worst and were ready to fight anyway. But death—complete and inexplicable—without a blade in hand, without final blows?

It was more terrifying than being surrounded. It shook them in a fundamental way. The world had shifted.

—

In the moments that followed, across the island, those scattered—exhausted or dying—stood paralyzed with disbelief.

Their trainers, their oaths, their faith—they flickered in their minds like dying embers. Yet each one felt it: a strange relief, an unspoken promise.

They lived.

They lowered their weapons, dead bodies underfoot like sudden snowdrifts.

The creatures’ own end had saved them.

Their eyes lifted upward—towards wherever Varros and his students might be. Maybe the tower. Maybe elsewhere. Maybe, just maybe, this was not the end.

And beneath it all, the island exhaled too. Silence settled like a prayer in stone.

And now, as the knights stood—alone but alive—each looked at the corpse-strewn ground and whispered, uncertain:

"They... died?"