The halls of Babyls Demon School were nearly empty, the usual chatter and footsteps replaced by an eerie silence. The bell had rung ten minutes ago, signaling the start of class, yet one student still lingered in the corridor, clearly late.

Azazel Ameri strode toward them, her presence commanding as always. Her sharp crimson eyes locked onto the tardy student, a mixture of authority and mild irritation in her gaze.

“What are you doing out of class?” she demanded, crossing her arms.