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A flash of fire burst, a spell that seemed to wield the very essence of fire, was summoned into action, its flames scorching across her eyes, blinding her momentarily. As the demon recoiled from the unexpected assault, Jaegar seized the opportunity, his movements fluid and purposeful. Rising to his feet, he positioned himself behind her, his actions a dance of strategy and agility.

The following moments played out in a whirlwind of action and reaction. The Furnace Blast erupted, a forceful impact that slammed the demon into an antique cabinet, the impact causing it to splinter under the force. She attempted to stand, only to falter and collide back against the wall.

The veneer of cool composure that she had once held gave way to an uncharacteristic sense of vulnerability, her eyes darting around the room as she struggled to regain her footing.

A shift in her demeanor marked a change in her approach. "Fine, boy. We'll do this your way," she declared, her tone dripping with begrudging acceptance. With renewed vigor, she surged forward, her movements accelerated by an intent that Jaegar could read in her eyes.

But just as she closed the distance, her fingertips brushed the fabric of his robes, and before she could react, the room erupted in a swirling inferno of smoke and flame, as Jaegar activated a spell of blazing fire.

He created a barrier that kept everything inside and prevented anything from escaping.

Through the haze, Jaegar's grin was evident on his face, as was the satisfaction he derived from her momentary disarray.

The succubus spluttered and coughed, the flames proving to be more than she had bargained for.

Seizing the opportunity, Jaegar capitalized on her vulnerability. A lance of crimson-hot fire pierced the air, staggering her against the wall. Before she could recover, a stun from the Kindled Force followed suit, leaving her dazed and incapacitated.

In a seamless transition, Jaegar brought forth his mother's wand, its presence in his hand creating a surge of power and familiarity that coursed through him. With a deftness that betrayed a natural affinity, he summoned the wand's capabilities without the need for verbal incantations. The wand's crimson thread unraveled, weaving a web that held her hands and legs in place.

The sensation was both exhilarating and uncannily familiar, as though the wand were an extension of his own being, an instrument that amplified his magical prowess.

The demon fought against her restraints, but her struggles were futile. But the threads held firm, unyielding to her efforts. As she glared at him, her frustration tangible, a question escaped her lips like a challenge. "Who the fuck are you?"

Jaegar's shoulders rose and fell in a casual shrug, and his exhale was tinged with an air of nonchalance.

"Now do you feel like talking?" he asked her.

"Fine," she scoffed.

"Someone from the Baxter house, I think. I didn't really catch their names, but they summoned me, offering me a really good wager."

"Baxter," he murmured, rubbing his chin, pondering who they were. He hadn't heard of the name before, nor did he come across anyone with that name, or did he?

"Okay, I will deal with them," he said as he turned to her, "Now for you, what are you gonna do?"

She stared at him, then looked at the restraints, tried to budge them once again, but it didn't work.

And the place near the binding, which had become charred with black, continued to burn it more.

"You don't know what you're dealing with, lady," his words carried a chilling weight, a glimpse into the depths of his experience and the power he held. "If I want, I can turn you into ashes right now, within a snap." His voice held a tone of authority, born of his time spent amidst the sinners' domain.

It was a realm where he had crossed paths with countless demons and high-level devils, an education forged in a crucible of darkness.

She knew he wasn't lying, and his crimson aura was the proof of his claim. And the bloodlust in his eyes, which she noticed a while ago, was making her fearful; a demon like her could feel the fear. The subtleness of his bloodlust, which was masked by his appearance, can be deceived by normal people, but she was a demon, and she could clearly see the words resonating with his inner being.

It was like he was a completely different person than the night before.

Her reaction was a mixture of begrudging acceptance and a simmering desire for vengeance. "Arrh! Fine, you're threatening me now, huh? Fine, I will wait for my turn, and then I will get back at you," she retorted, her tone a blend of defiance and calculation. Her pride as a demon didn't let her do it, but she had to, in order to survive.

Jaegar's response was laced with a casual dismissal, his words were a command that cut through the tension. "Yeah, you do that. Now hush, hush!" he ordered, his authority asserting itself with an air of finality. With a wave of his wand, the restraints that bound her were released, and the tension in the room seemed to dissipate.

As she materialized into the air, her form a swirl of black smoke, he couldn't help but pause for a moment. Her name, Nymyrna, lingered in the air like an enigma, a parting gift that left him with more questions than answers. Their encounter had been a convergence of forces.

With the demon's departure, Jaegar's attention turned back to the academy, he had a thing to do and wanted to meet with the headmaster.

He knocked on the door, and a voice came from inside, telling him to come in.

He entered the room and saw Ashfield sitting in the chair.

"Oh, Ambrose, what has brought you here?"

Then he had informed him about the encounter with the demon, and he had sent it away.

Ashefield widened his eyes, "Wait, what do you mean by sending it away?"

Ashfiled was astonished and couldn't believe what he was saying.  to suppress a demon that was capable of crossing the powerful barrier of the academy, and he sent it away all by himself.

He stared at Jaegar and wondered what sort of training Angelina had given him. Ashfield looked at his leaving figure and thought, What sort of monstrous kid was he?

He couldn't fathom how someone so young could possess such incredible power.

As Jaegar's figure receded from view, Ashfield could only sigh, grappling with the enigma that stood before him.

The vast training field of the academy stretched out, an expanse of verdant grass and open sky.

A sense of excitement permeated the air as students gathered, forming a semi-circle that faced the focal point of their attention—a figure of authority and her awe-inspiring companion.

Professor Tara Evans commanded the space with an air of quiet assurance. Her presence was a blend of confidence and wisdom, shaped by her years of immersion in the arcane arts. Sunlight caressed her skin, lending a warm glow to her features. Raven-black hair cascaded down her back, framing a face adorned with eyes that gleamed with the depth of arcane knowledge.

Beside her stood Thinscale, an embodiment of both power and grace. Its scales glinted like frozen gemstones, their icy hue reflecting the sky above. Ice spikes adorned its form, lending an ethereal aura to its majestic stature. The dragon's stance radiated authority, a silent proclamation of the strength it possessed.

In the midst of hushed whispers from the gathered students, Jaegar appeared, a silent observer joining the unfolding scene. Pierre, his companion, accompanied him, and together they watched the proceedings—a symphony of learning, magic, and the mystical bond between summoner and summoned.

The lecture commenced, with Professor Tara's voice carrying the weight of authority and knowledge.

Her explanations dissected the art of summoning, revealing the detailed steps that led to the conjuring of otherworldly beings. Each word she spoke painted a vivid picture of a complex ritual.

Thinscale, the dragon, stood regal and imposing, its presence commanding the attention of all present.

Within the atmosphere charged with anticipation, Jaegar and his peers absorbed the teachings, their minds ignited by the professor's insights.

With a voice that carried expertise, Professor Tara embarked on an intricate explanation of the summoning arts. Her words wove a tapestry of understanding, unraveling the mechanics behind this ancient practice.

With a gesture that commanded attention, she elucidated the process, unveiling its intricate layers like a master painter revealing a masterpiece. The first step, she detailed, was the creation of a circle—a sacred boundary that bridged the realms of the mundane and the mystical. Within this circle, the intricate dance between dimensions would unfold.

Her words then turned to the vital ingredient of the ritual—an element that bore both symbolism and significance. A single drop of blood was to be offered, a gesture binding the summoner's essence to the conjured entity. The room seemed to hold its breath as the notion of sacrifice—of essence freely given—pervaded the air.

The incantation, a melody of power and intent, came next. Professor Tara's voice wove the words together like an enchantress weaving spells into existence. Each syllable resonated with a potent energy, threading through the fabric of reality itself.