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Two transparent, golden domes blocked the doorway to the Mess Hall, the last stand. Standing inside each were pale faced instructors. Sweat dripped from their torn robes. One held a hand up to stop the three disciples from crossing the classroom.

"Instructor Finny," Lance said. He had let the other students go on ahead. "These three are with me."

The instructor named Finny pulled back his hood to reveal a black and blue face. "Lance, you know why they can't pass. Even if it wasn't against the rules, these outsiders could be demons masquerading as humans. What makes matters worse is that we can't spare the mana to confirm their identities."

Lance responded by pointing to Frey's blue hair.

"But the rules," Finny hesitated. "We all know your obsession with following protocol. Turn around. They aren't getting through."

Lance's lips twitched: "If you would like to look up the exact rule I'm breaking then I will gladly wait here while you fumble through dust-laden pages of your personal rulebook. That is if you didn't toss it out of the window your first day here. Now instructor Finny, shall I bring up every single instance you have ever broken protocol or shall I walk these three knights through that doorway and forget about this whole thing?"

Finny blinked twice and his cocky demeanor fell just like the two barrier spells. He stepped towards Lance in a huff. "Why you little brat. You're rebelling just like your sister, aren't you? You were just waiting for this day after you wormed your way in to a place you don't belong."

Lance lowered his head. "Is that what everyone thought of me?"

Finny laughed: "Of course. Even after the Head Mage destroyed your sister's statue, even after we graffitied what was left of it, you stopped by it every day. Trenton tried to tell us otherwise but we all know where your real loyalties lie. How can you tell me otherwise? Just leave." He pointed towards the exit. "Like you should have done over a decade ago. Even your disciples are as incompetent as you are."

The three disciples all looked at each other, then to Lance's ink-stained sleeves. "Doevm expects us to be in the Mess Hall," Elero whispered.

She took a step forward but Thomas pulled her back. "Don't," he pleaded. "Getting saved like that makes you feel like crap."

"I'd like you to move," Lance insisted.

"That isn't happening," Finny chuckled. "Go home." He shoved Lance. It wasn't forceful. It didn't knock him off his feet. It was, however, aggressive.

Frey took a quick breath. He could sense the other two tense up, ready to leap into action if need be.

"Finny," Lance said as he rubbed his cheek. "There are three people you shouldn't talk about. You just insulted two of them."

Finny leaned forward with a broad grin. "And what are you going to do about it, goody-two shoes? Go cry to Trenton. Oh wait, he's unconscious."

Lance scrunched up his lips and nodded. "That's three. That's three," he repeated. "So this is who I work alongside." He pointed over Finny's shoulder. "Remember when my disciple got suspended?"

As Finny turned around, time slowed. Lance reeled a foot back. Thomas smiled. Elero giggled. Frey winced. There were two sounds: a crunch and a high-pitched squeal. Finny fell clutching his groin. Lance stepped over the instructor and smirked: "I guess Cerlius did teach me some things after all."

The group hurried through the backdoor before the mage could get back up. Lance slammed the door and leaned against it while he caught his breath. "I apologize for the display."

Thomas chuckled. "No, that was more of a show. You really let him have it."

Lance pulled his hood down but Frey could still see his face. The many rips and tears in Lance's once-orderly robe showed a satisfied smile. "We should keep moving," he said. He pushed off the door, took a step, and froze.

Looking around, the group discovered that every surface of the Mess Hall was covered in thick, translucent crystal. The only exceptions were the doors on the southern and eastern sides, much like the one they had entered through. Pairs of exhausted mages shambled into the room, replaced by fresh pairs.

"They're taking shifts," Lance explained. "When a pair exhausts their mana, another pair is sent in. The old pair then meditates and gathers more mana."

Elero seemed to be the only one who could follow the statement. "Essentially, you're saying that those golden semispheres guarding the entrances cost mana to maintain."

Lance smiled. "That's a fine analysis. If only we could do more than wait for the demons to break in." He gestured to the three improvised defenses that protected the center mass of mages.

Ten feet from the exterior walls were four walls of dining tables flipped on their sides and held together with magically created stone. Since they had been placed on top of each other, they went up to shoulder height. Frey peeked over. The sharp points of knives and forks stared back. Kitchenware. The mages had enchanted kitchenware.

Frey looked past the first layer of defense with a heavy heart. As opposed to desperately constructed walls or spikes, the second layer was a line of mighty Watchmen. They stood behind another four walls of tables.

The third and final line of defense made Frey raise his head. Beings much grander than stone men awaited for the battle for which they were created. Frey hadn't heard much about Elementals but he knew enough to recognize them. Each humanoid was composed of one of the four elements: earth, wind, fire, or water. Their hollow eyes followed him, and the hair rose on the back of his neck.

At the center, looming over everything, was an enormous statue of Maximus Draken. At the base it sat the Head Mage, Glenin Ostroch, surrounded by the same transparent crystal that encompassed the room. He looked up from his meditative stance and beckoned for the newcomers to join the mass of mages around him.