> Sehr em ver, vida weiter mir tu suchen

>

> Phrase

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> Translation: Nice to see you, in the next life I will continue to search for you

>

> Definition: "Sehr em ver, vida weiter mir tu suchen" is a poignant and contradictor phrase in Menschen, often spoken during farewells. It translates to "Nice to see you, in the next life I will continue to search for you." This expression conveys a deep and enduring connection that transcends the present life, embodying the hope and belief that the bond will be rekindled in a future existence. However rare is the Menschen that believes in the afterlife.

"Duven-who?" Mediah muttered, his confusion evident as he glanced back towards King Xendrix, who now held Noctavia's hand aloft for all to see. "People of Keblurg! Behold the saviour our nation has been blessed with, sent by my mentor! The mightiest of them all!" Xendrix's proclamation echoed through the hall, followed by applause but also by more murmurs and whispers, not pleased with what had just occurred.

Mediah's heart sank at the sight of Noctavia, her once presence now reduced to a passive, eerie stillness, her eyes and mouth grotesquely stitched. His mind raced with questions. Did Yeso know about this? Was there anyone coming to her aid? He knew he had to act.

Yet, as he began to rise, Edgar's firm grip on his shoulder halted him. "There's no time for heroics. We must go!"

Edgar tugged Mediah by his collar away with forceful guidance and led Mediah to a door, which he pushed open with surprising ease.

As the door swung open, Mediah found himself stumbling into an entirely different setting, as if stepping into a new world, leaving behind the scenario they had just been part of. This was no longer Keblurg.

They emerged into a clearing, an abrupt shift in scenery that left Mediah disoriented. Before him stretched a beach, its sands merging with the Red Sea's waters. To his left, mountains towered, casting long shadows, and dense woods loomed behind him. "What the..." Mediah's voice trailed off, his bewilderment growing.

The man with an amber eye and the darkness of a black patch—the same fabric as the black robes of Magis—covering the other held an aura of both riddle and answer. His short red hair seemed to be a flame atop his head, casting a glow that matched the intensity of his visible eye.

There was something eerily familiar about his face but to whom Mediah couldn't place. His stature, notably shorter than the Magi's, aligned him more closely with Noctavia's height.

This man, who called himself Edgar Duvencrune, dressed in a brown suit, leaned his body on an intricately designed steel cane, which he used not just as a support but as a statement or a weapon.

"Everything you need is here," Edgar said, his smile broad and trying to be reassuring.

Frustration and panic gripped Mediah as he spun around, searching for the magical doorway back. "I need to return! My friend... she's in danger!"

Edgar's grip tightened, a seriousness overtaking his previously easy demeanour. "It's too late. In a few hours, they'll all die. They always die."

"That's all the more reason for me to help!" Mediah insisted with desperation. "I need to go back!"

"You have a different role to play," Edgar stated solemnly, "Your path isn't back there; it's here, where your true destiny awaits. You have no idea how much you'll influence the whole outcome."

"I have no idea?" Mediah felt the rawest frustration and was barely above a whisper before escalating into a loud exclamation. "I have no idea! Of course I don't, you lunatic! Where the fuck am I? Noctavia is in danger, and here you are, dragging me to this place with some bullshit prophecy nonsense!" Mediah's voice cracked, verging on a shout.

Edgar, with an unexpectedly calm demeanour, placed his hand over his face and crouched slightly.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Mediah asked, his anger rising.

"Every time you've gotten upset in the past, you've tended to throw a punch. Out of thirty-two times, I've only managed to dodge twelve. Not taking any chances this time; you really pack a wallop," Edgar explained his tone as a childlike sulk.

Mediah couldn't help but admit to himself that he had indeed been on the verge of striking the red-headed nose. However, Edgar's words and mannerisms continued to spark a sense of familiarity in him.

"You said thirty-two times?" Mediah questioned, a flicker of almost recognition crossing his mind. Why did he look so familiar?

Edgar straightened up, brushing off imaginary dust from his sleeves with a nonchalant gesture. "Forget I mentioned that; the less you know, the better for the integrity of my plan."

"Your plan?" Mediah's confusion deepened.

"You're quite nosy. It's almost fascinating," Edgar remarked, observing Mediah with a scrutinizing gaze. "Here's what I can divulge: in six hours, an unprecedented event will occur. All nine moons and the sun will vanish, casting the world into a prolonged darkness spanning twenty-two winters. Then, a colossal tsunami will flood the District Trial, Moonbay, and vast areas of Spiyles and Keblurg. It will be recorded as one of the greatest natural disasters in history. Though," he added with a cryptic smile, "its origins aren't exactly natural. But who am I to spoil the surprise? But this period of darkness will be known as the Long Night."

Mediah's expression turned grave. "I don't understand... does this mean everyone will die?"

"No, not everyone. Most people you know will be safe," Edgar assured him.

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"What about Ulencia?"

Edgar met Mediah's gaze, his expression sombre. "Ulencia... she's already gone."

"What?" Mediah's heart sank. Disbelief and sorrow collided within him, "I just talked with her like twenty minutes ago! What is this? The End of Times?"

"Yes and no... it's a bit more complex to define precisely, and there's only one thing you need to do. Just a small, crucial task..." Edgar illustrated his point by pinching a tiny gap between his thumb and index finger.

Mediah, feeling overwhelmed by the avalanche of maybe fictitious revelations, asked wearily, "What is it?"

"Build an army. Establish a new District Trial right here, maybe with another name. This location is ideal; you have access to all the necessary elements within a few kilometres. You're in the heart of Ormgrund, perfectly situated to recruit. But hidden enough from the Capitol. And once summer begins, even cadets from the Great Continent will seek you out," Edgar explained with enthusiasm.

Looking around at the desolate surroundings, Mediah's scepticism was tangible. "How am I supposed to do that? I'm all alone, and there's literally nothing here!"

"You'll manage. I've prepared something for you." Edgar reached into his jacket's inner pocket and pulled out a book. This action made Mediah take a closer look at Edgar's attire, noticing the peculiar style - full-length pants, a blouse, and a triangular silk belt cinched around his collar. "Here, take this," Edgar said, handing the book to Mediah.

A hardcover book crafted from a dark and soft Black Robe fabric featured a central, elegantly simple embroidery of the infinity symbol. Affixed upon a white label, the title read: "Handbook of the Advanced Elemental Theories and Practical Applications for the Trial of the Elements by Professor Edgar O. Duvencrune.”

Mediah eyed the book with suspicion. "What is this? What am I supposed to… fuck, I’m starting to have a headache!"

"It's everything you need to know," Edgar replied, casually slipping his hands into his pockets. "Take a look at the first page; I've added something special for you… and for her."

Curiosity piqued, Mediah flipped open the book. His eyes widened in shock upon seeing the contents of the first page. "This... this... this is the hex for Hexe, the spell Yeso created. How did you... what? How?"

"Everyone deserves a happy ending," Edgar said nonchalantly, scuffing the sand with his shoe. "Whether you choose to use it or not is up to you."

Mediah, still reeling from the revelation, asked, "In those thirty-two times I punched you, how many times did I actually use this hex?"

Edgar made a thoughtful noise, clicking his tongue. "None."

"Why not?"

"I'm not sure. But, perhaps the choice to use it or not will determine whether I was successful in achieving my aims. So, both you and I will eventually find our happy endings, and everything will fall into its proper place. You’ll see your boy grow, and I can finally hold my little one. That’s all I ever wanted, don’t you?”

As Mediah leafed through the pages of the book, he found it to be a comprehensive tome, encompassing all facets of a Magi's journey. It detailed the codes and ethics a Magi must adhere to, various exercises to hone their skills, and a thorough breakdown of Spirit hierarchies, the nuances of different bloodlines, and their unique magical properties. The bulk of the book was dedicated to advanced exercises designed to elevate mages to the status of Magi, greatly enhancing their magical capabilities.

Engrossed in the wealth of knowledge before him, Mediah was momentarily lost in a trance when one of the chapters was called “The Ulencia Swords”. When he finally looked up, the one-eyed, red-haired man, Edgar, was nowhere to be seen.

Mediah found himself alone, seemingly abandoned in the midst of an unknown land. His gaze returned to the book, particularly noting the cover that read, "Written by Professor Edgar O. Duvencrune."

A flicker of realization crossed his mind. Could Edgar, the strange man who had brought him here, also be the author of this invaluable book?

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Edgar stepped through the door into his living room, where the television broadcasted the news. A woman fae with elegant alters, and glasses over her dark nose sat behind a sleek, glass news desk.

On the screen behind her, there's a bold graphic with the headline "Crisis Alert: Keplurg Announces Possession of WMDs". The graphic also features a world map pinpointing the nations of Keplurg and Spiyles, with red lines indicating tension.

The anchor appears concerned as she reports the latest developments, stating, "Breaking News: The President of Keplurg, Xendrix Kaspian, has announced today its possession of weapons of mass destruction, posing a direct threat to its neighbour Spiyles. The reason for this sudden aggression is still under investigation. In response, leaders from the Nations of the Great Continent, including The Elven King, Finnegan Berdorf, are engaging in urgent peace negotiations to avert what many fear could escalate into a devastating war."

The screen also shows a small inset image of President Kaspian in a meeting with other world leaders in previous summers, highlighting the global concern over this unfolding situation.

"I'm home," he announced, his voice tinged with a slight crack as he shook the sand from his shoes.

As Edgar entered, a woman with distinctive red eyes and striking white hair welcomed him from the couch, a plate of cheese in her hands and a warm smile on her face.

However, her smile quickly faded into a look of concern as she noticed the somber expression etched on Edgar's face. "Master?" she asked with a soft, worried tone.

"Don't fret, little mouse, I'm okay," Edgar responded, attempting to sound reassuring as he began to loosen his tie. A heavy sigh escaped him as he added, "It's just that... I saw her... again." His voice almost cracked when he explained, "I saw my mother, and it's... difficult, seeing her in that state."

"I know... You always feel like that... each time," she noted with empathy, carefully taking his shoes and jacket and placing them neatly in the closet.

"It's unsettling. Why did he choose to use the stitching technique?"

"You always come back with the same question and every time I answer you, the eyes are stitched to sever her connection with your father and the mouth to ensure she cannot speak. No spoken words, no spells, Orlo," she explained matter-of-factly as if she explained the same thing over and over again.

"No chance of her calling upon her Spirit," Edgar added, piecing together the grim reality of the situation, "So no Howling Night!"

"I still believe his ultimate aim was to summon your father. Time manipulation isn't exactly a skill for mere show," she remarked, returning with a hot beverage, which she handed to Edgar. "To warm your Saatgut."

Edgar accepted the drink, his thoughts wandering. "Do you think this is the right version?" he queried.

"Yes, I believe we are very close," she replied with an encouraging smile. "Very, very close."

"Do you think she'll like me?" Edgar asked, a hint of vulnerability in his voice.

"There's no way she won't," she assured him.

"The idea of meeting her terrifies me," he admitted, his eyes fixed on the view outside the window where a massive billboard loomed. The advertisement displayed the image of a young woman with a distinct, diamond-shaped face and eyes of an indescribable hue.

The caption read: "The 500th Anniversary of the Disappearance of the Summerqueen, Eura Berdorf: From Hero to Villain."

The woman standing beside him extended a piece of cheese towards her Master, her voice resolute. "We will find her, and in doing so, we will save the world from the End of Times. Everything will be as it should be."

He sighed deeply, a sense of unease clouding his thoughts. "There's this nagging feeling that I'm overlooking something important. Like there's a loose end I haven't tied up, but for the life of me, I can't pinpoint what it is."

"You'll figure it out... or we'll start all over again."

> This book is dedicated to my unborn child and yet taught me to love as I never imagined it was possible. ——The Hexe - Book One by Professor Edgar O. Duvencrune, First Edition, 1st Summer