Internet Mage Professor
Chapter 149: No more threats

Chapter 149: No more threats

They descended into the bone-chilled depths beneath Silver Blade Academy, the echo of tremors pounding through the narrow stone corridors like the heartbeat of the earth itself.

Torches flickered, casting frantic shadows along carved runes that pulsed with eldritch light as Lirazel chanted under her breath.

Nolan’s boots clanged across the ancient flagstones; his rifle was slung at his side, silent now but ready.

The air was damp, thick with magic and anticipation.

At last, their path opened into a vaulted chamber—and there, nestled within its heart, lay a crystalline pond.

It was impossibly clear, reflecting the ceiling’s web of archways, rimmed by luminous algae that glowed with a delicate blue. Even the tremors calmed. The world held its breath.

And at the center of the waters sat Ponka.

The small figure was no taller than a child, with iridescent skin rippling with warped moonlight. Slender arms rested on the pond’s edge. Her head topped with a crown of water-hair that floated like living kelp. In the half-lit cathedral of stone, she looked regal—otherworldly.

But what she said next was... disarmingly intimate.

"Father. Mother," Ponka whispered, and her voice rang through Nolan’s chest like a memory.

Nolan froze. Lirazel’s hand shot to her throat.

"Ponka..." Lirazel whispered, stepping forward as though drawn by gravity. Her voice trembled, soft and impossibly maternal. "Oh, my dear... what has happened? Why is the ground shaking? Why...?"

Ponka’s eyes were closed; ripples carried her voice without her lips moving. "Those tremors... they are calls. Summons. A great creature stirs—a creature born long before any of us walked this realm. It is calling its servants to war."

She reached toward Lirazel, her posture gentle. Lirazel dove toward her, embracing Ponka with trembling arms. They clung fast, as Nolan stared, heart clenching at their reverence. He had never expected Lirazel to meet this child—this spawn she had once hidden in her fae-den, rumored to be her daughter.

Ponka pressed her face into Lirazel’s shoulder. "I don’t feel afraid. But the summons does rattle my waters. This creature... it shakes the very foundations." Her head lifted. "Father, you must secure us. It knows you—knows your strength. It will test us."

Nolan swallowed hard. "Ponka, how many calls have come?"

Ponka’s eyes flickered. "Three. Soon there will be more. Each quake stronger. Each echo titanic." She sighed, letting the words ripple on the pond’s surface.

Lirazel stiffened. "Echoes... like battle drums across dimensions?"

Ponka’s hair floated. "Exactly."

Nolan exchanged a look with Lirazel. She nodded grimly. "We have to protect them..." she said under her breath.

Ponka glanced toward Nolan. "Father, they slither below."

On the edges of the pond, stone mosaics began to shift. The water whispered. Slim columns of mist separated and gave shape to serpentine forms emerging from thin air. A dozen at first, then hundreds—sleek, scaled, and unblinking. They slid from the curved stone floor, their spines hunched, claws clicking softly against wet stone.

They arose—not with malice, but deference. They slithered around Nolan and Lirazel in a silent, coiling dance, heads dipping in obeisance.

Nolan’s jaw clenched. "They... saluting?"

Lirazel swallowed. "Ponka... are they yours?"

The child nodded. "They are mine. Guardians. My army." Her voice trembled with awe. "They sense the call—the stir of our cataclysmic foe. They gather to defend."

Nolan stared as more emerged: creatures of water and stone, serpentine with crystalline horns, shimmering with mana. They formed rank after rank, slithering up the steps to form a silent semi-circle around the pond. Their eyes glowed with sapphire fire, each bearing the crest of the Dungeon Den. It was as if a secret legion had formed, summoned by Ponka’s presence and purpose.

He swallowed again, heart pounding. "I... I’ve never seen this before in any ritual text," he admitted.

Lirazel tightened her arms around Ponka. "Nor I," she whispered. "But... it’s beautiful."

Ponka turned, holding Nolan’s gaze with wide, unwavering eyes. "Father, Mother—I trust you to guide them. This army is bound to me—and me to you." She looked at Nolan. "I sense your soul. You are as stone. As steadfast as the Vale’s walls."

Nolan blinked. "That is... high praise."

Ponka sighed softly. "They will obey both of you. But the tremors grow louder. Soon, the creature will arrive. We must prepare."

Nolan straightened, feeling the weight of her trust. The creatures were weaving through the dungeon like ribbons of intent, all poised and deadly, but calm, as though for a march that would decide the fate of their world.

He closed his eyes, breathing deeply. "Then let us train them," he said. "Let us show them that the walls of Silver Blade—vale, earth, magic—will hold against any storm."

Lirazel stepped back, releasing Ponka, though her arms remained close. "Yes," she said. "This... is their awakening."

Over the pounding earth and the slithering guardians, the air thrummed with the promise of battle: against unknown terrors, summoned by something vast and bloody. Here in the cathedral-pond, beneath the merging dungeon, the tide was turning.

Beneath them, the ground shuddered again, as countless creatures still waited beyond. And here, a new army rose.

The real war was only beginning.

Let me know when you’d like Part 2—where the mentor knights lead the first maneuvers of this unlikely army, training by torchlight, forging a shield against the coming quake.

Nolan remains silent for a long moment, absorbing the sight of the silent, serpentine army—hundreds of creatures glistening like polished obsidian, coils overlapping, eyes shimmering with uncanny intelligence. The tremors in the earth beneath them pulse in time with his heartbeat.

Finally, he exhales. "They’re magnificent," he murmurs, stepping forward. "But... I already handled the threats. The creatures outside the city—you name it—I dispatched them before they could even form into a horde."

He glances toward Lirazel, then Ponka, voice low yet certain.

"I did not ask for reinforcements because there was no reinforcements-needed. Let them stand down," Nolan instructs the legion. His tone is not probing—it’s firm, imbued with unshakable authority. "Your presence now would complicate things. You’re not needed for what comes."

He scoops a fallen shard of rock from the edge of the pond and holds it like a token of assurance. "Go rest. Merge with your domain once this den’s boundary is restored. I’ll handle what remains here."

Ponka watches Nolan carefully, her face a serene mask, though he can sense the young demon-goddess confronting a swirl of conflicting desires—pride, worry, newfound trust. The serpent-army stirs in quiet compliance, inches of separation between rows narrowing as they prepare to defer.

One of the larger serpents raises a head like a column of night-shade, dual luminescent eyes fixed on Ponka. Without commanding it, she inclines her head—once, twice. There’s a shift among the serried ranks, and they settle, tails sliding down the polished stone in unison. Their slithering ceases; a low hush ripples over the congregation of their kind.

The pond’s surface calms. Even the trembling air between them stills—almost respectfully.

Nolan kneels near the water’s edge, his hand resting lightly on its mirrored surface. "There’s no poison yet. No corruption. Whatever quake we felt—whatever force is calling the hidden creature—it has been muted. The rift remains small." He looks at Ponka. "Ponka... this merging—it was abrupt. You sensed the quake before I did. But now, there’s healing in the seams. The boundary is stable once more."

Ponka glances at the pond, watching the pale glow of algae and crystal. "It’s true," she whispers. "My army no longer trembles. The tremors fade like ripples after a stone is thrown—but made still."

Nolan glances up at her. "You were prepared. That’s why I entrusted this crystal to you. You hold the key to this den’s balance. All that remains for you now is recovery, and rest."

Lirazel steps beside Nolan, gently brushing a fingertip through Ponka’s hair-halo. "She did more than any of us expected. She saved this place—this world—from unraveling when the quake started."

Ponka smiles tentatively, exhaustion flickering behind her radiant eyes. She nods. "I... I will rest. My army will rest. The den, the pond, this earth—it needs patience, not power."

Nolan straightens, standing behind the small child. His voice is both paternal and steely: "Good. Rest. You both have done more than your duty. The spinal strength of this planet... it’s healed because of you."

He turns to the serpent-army, speaking with deliberate clarity. "Return to the pond’s border. Lessen your vigilance. Tomorrow, we’ll prepare—not for war, but for growth. You are not soldiers now—you are guardians. Children, too, of a world that needs hope."

Heads lowered en masse—the silent salute released. Then the serpents slid outward, dispersing to the edges of the cavern, melted into the shadows without one stray ether.

Ponka dipped her hands in the pond, watching light ripple outward. She exhaled slowly, returning to normal breathing. Lirazel wrapped an arm around her shoulders, gentle but protective.

Nolan exhaled as well. He wiped residual dust and tension off his coat. "Good work, everyone," he said quietly. "Now... let’s heal. I’ll take you all—" he paused, looking from Ponka to Lirazel then back to the serpentine ranks—"—back to the villa. The light’s better there. We’ll let this den stabilize and grow in peace, not in panicked construction."

Ponka blinked at him. "You won’t stay?"

He met her gaze with steady resolve. "I must. There are other threats still—true threats—looming beyond that tremor. The Earthquake was a herald. It has been silenced for now. But I intend to keep it that way."

Lirazel nodded in agreement. "There are defenses to prepare—Mana shield grids, structural wards. If the quake was a herald, we must be ready in case there’s another."

Ponka looked away, absently tracing patterns in the water. "I understand... Father." Her voice was low, determined. She let the words sink in. "We’ll stay."

Nolan reached out, brushing her hair away gently. "Sleep now," he said. "Dinner at dawn. We’ll discuss—and tomorrow,"

Ponka nodded. "I’ll be ready."

Nolan smiled softly. "."

He and Lirazel led the way out, the serpent guardians watching only momentarily, then allowing the pair to pass through the vaulted exit. The quaking tremors had ceased. Silence reigned once more, the merging dormant, and a fragile calm fell across the pond—an end to crisis, a beginning for guardianship, and the promise of healing.