The emergence of the colossal, impossible tree from the shattered Greenhouse Tower didn't just cause structural damage; it sent a literal tremor through the school's rigid hierarchy. This was no prank; it was an act of magical impossibility that defied every known law of demonic botany. The crisis demanded the attention of the school's most formidable student: the Student Council President, Ameri Azazel.
In her grand, command-center office, Ameri—a figure of sublime, disciplined power—stood before the panoramic window, her gaze locked onto the multi-hued, illogical plant now dominating the Babyls skyline.
A subordinate official nervously cleared his throat, presenting the report.
"President Ameri, the damage estimate is still climbing. But the chief concern is the—the thing itself. Our research teams have analyzed the structure. It's composed of biological matter, yes, but its properties are entirely contradictory. It's not a hybrid; it's an anomaly. It simply does not belong here."
Ameri slowly turned, her crimson uniform emphasizing her military-like bearing. She gripped the edge of her desk, her voice low and sharp, betraying a flicker of intellectual agitation.
AMERI: "I have reviewed every textbook in the Demon King's library. Demonic nature is chaotic, but its growth is systematic. This student, Noir Sullivan, is an outlier in every possible metric. A Rank Aleph (\alpha) with S-rank familiars and an artifact of legend. Now, this. If he can materialize an impossibility with a simple first-year spell, then the stability of the entire school—and perhaps the Netherworld itself—is at stake. I will confront him now."
Ameri found Noir Sullivan in the central courtyard, still awkwardly supervising his two massive familiars, the Chaos Lion and the Aether Tiger, who were, with surprising futility, attempting to police the debris field.
She approached him with the deliberate, measured stride of a sovereign. Her immense aura of focus and authority made the nearby air crackle. Noir felt the pressure immediately. He glanced up, and his heart gave a nervous jump.
He was instantly dazzled by Ameri's temperament. She was breathtaking—not just in her beauty, but in her sheer, electrifying intensity. She radiated competence, purpose, and a regal composure that made him feel like a frightened field mouse trying to talk his way out of a trap. He found himself unconsciously trying to mimic her severe dignity, making him look even more awkwardly magnificent.
Ameri stopped directly in front of him, looking up slightly at his taller, transformed frame.
AMERI: "Noir Sullivan. I am Ameri Azazel, President of the Student Council. The time for euphemisms is over. We need a transparent account of the destructive, unnatural flora you created."
NOIR: (His heart hammering against his ribs, fighting the urge to flee) "President Azazel! I—I deeply apologize! I truly didn't mean for the tree to... defy botany. My mana control is a bit, uh, high-output right now."
AMERI: (Unmoved, her scrutiny intensifying) "Physical adjustments do not violate the fundamental rules of life and magic. Your official rank is Aleph (\alpha); your output defies logic. You command S-rank familiars, and you spontaneously manifest flora that cannot be classified by our world's botanists. Who, exactly, are you?"
Noir struggled for a plausible answer, sweating under the glare. He quickly tucked his right hand behind his back, making sure the golden Ring of Solomon—the one detail only his immediate circle knew—was out of sight. Alice and Clara, as always, intervened.
ALICE: (Stepping forward with zeal) "President! I object to the line of questioning! Sullivan is merely displaying an unprecedented ability to draw upon ambient energy fields! His true control is merely unconventional!"
CLARA: (Grabbing Noir's hand, pulling his arm back further behind him) "Stop yelling at Noir, Ameri! The Fun Tree just wanted to be big! It's happy now!"
As the dramatic, intense exchange continued, several groups of students paused their journeys to stare. The visual contrast was cinematic: the beautiful, authoritative President pinning the tall, mythologically striking first-year beneath her glare.
A female student nudged her friend, whispering:
"Look at that tension. The President rarely spends this much time on a Rank Aleph."
"I know, right? And he looks... stunning, even while being interrogated. They have such intense chemistry."
"Someone should ship them! They look like they're having a serious, powerful moment. They make a strikingly good pair."
The whispers ignited a small ripple of romantic speculation. Noir, who desperately needed to focus on saving himself from exposure, caught the comments and felt a wave of hot embarrassment. He flushed, mortified that his interrogation was being turned into a school rumor.
Ameri, oblivious to the side drama and focused entirely on dissecting the botanical impossibility, pressed her final point:
AMERI: "The 'high-output' excuse is insufficient, Sullivan. You channeled a force that created a structure unknown to our world. I believe you possess knowledge, or a source, that you are deliberately concealing."
Noir stammered, his mind racing. He was trapped between the President's relentless curiosity and the sudden, awkward realization that the entire student body was actively pairing him with the fiercest woman in the school.
NOIR: "I... I truly don't know, President! It just grew! Like... like a giant, very complicated weed!"
Ameri stared at the nervous, overwhelmed student who looked like a creature of pure myth, a single vein throbbing on her forehead. She knew he was hiding the truth, but the sheer, beautiful absurdity of the situation made her pause. She needed a clearer strategy.
The confrontation ended with Ameri retreating, her curiosity and suspicion now heightened by a strange, unsettling awareness of the compelling presence of the student. Noir watched her go, utterly exhausted, realizing he had exchanged one source of stress (mana overflow) for another (Ameri Azazel).