Landon's scream echoed through the white halls of Ashenfield Academy's infirmary, shaking the walls with its fury. The sterile clinic room, once quiet and peaceful, was now in chaos. Glass shattered as he kicked over a tray of healing salves. He clutched at his face, bandaged thickly from cheek to chin, his eyes wild with pain and rage.
"Where are my teeth!?" he shouted, his voice hoarse. "WHERE ARE MY FUCKING TEETH?!"
The doctors and nurses flinched, trembling near the door. One of them, an older woman with healing runes glowing faintly on her gloves, tried to speak.
"Young master, please... calm down. We've done all we can. The scarring..."
"Shut up you old thing!" Landon bellowed, slamming his hand into a side cabinet. It cracked beneath the force. "Heal me! Use your damn spells! Use the best scrolls! I don't care if you summon a god just... FIX MY FACE!"
