In Lady Chihaya's office, Yourupt continued rummaging through The True Writer’s wardrobe, pulling out various outfits and holding them up for inspection. He seemed to be lost in thought, each choice weighed carefully.
Meanwhile, in the adjacent room, Maid Isabella grew increasingly impatient. She tapped her foot on the floor, her eyes flicking to the door every few seconds. The guests were waiting, and yet here she was, stuck listening to the sound of fabric rustling.
Isabella muttered under her breath,
Isabella: “Does he really need this long to pick an outfit?”
She sighed, tapping her foot faster, trying to keep herself entertained while waiting for him to make a decision.
As Isabella’s patience wore thin, the door finally creaked open. Yourupt stepped out, adjusting the cuffs of his sleek, dark suit, reminiscent of The True Writer’s old style. He smirked.
Yourupt: “Took me a while, but I think I nailed it.” He tugged at his collar with a frown. “Didn’t expect it to be this tight.”
Isabella crossed her arms, eyeing him up and down.
Isabella: “Well, you are wearing a black double-breasted suit. He liked those a lot.” She stepped closer, reaching up to loosen the collar for him.
Isabella: “First time at a party?”
Yourupt sighed, rolling his shoulders as if trying to get comfortable.
Yourupt: “Obviously. Never really had the time to go to many.”
Isabella let out a small chuckle as she adjusted the folds of his suit.
Isabella: “A lady like myself has a duty to ensure her guests are well taken care of and can adapt to any situation,” she said matter-of-factly. She picked up a small container of hair gel from the nearby dresser, dabbing some onto her fingers before running them through his hair.
Isabella: “And I have to make sure everything goes smoothly—for everyone’s sake.”
Yourupt raised an eyebrow at her as she worked, but he stayed silent, letting her finish. There was something about the way she spoke calm yet firm, as if she had done this countless times before. Just as he was about to ask what she meant, Isabella clapped her hands together and took a step back to admire her work.
Isabella: “There,” she said, nodding in approval. Then, with a playful smirk, she gave his arm a sharp slap.
Isabella: “You’re all set. Looking quite charming, actually. Now, let’s get to the party before we’re any later.”
Yourupt exhaled, giving his suit one final tug before following Isabella out of the office. As they stepped into the hallway, the distant hum of music and chatter grew louder.
As they walked through the west halls at a steady pace, Yourupt couldn’t help but notice the maids keeping their distance. Their wary glances and hushed whispers made it clear the memory of his shadow self’s actions was still fresh in their minds.
He sighed and turned to Isabella.
Yourupt: “You’re a lot less scared than the others.”
She met his gaze without hesitation.
Isabella: “I know the difference between you and your shadow,” she said before adding, “I know you didn’t mean to do those things, but that doesn’t justify what he did. He killed a lot of people… a lot of these girls. He’s the reason they’re here now—even me.”
Yourupt opened his mouth to respond, but Isabella stopped him with a sharp look.
Isabella: “I don’t want your apology. I just wanted you to know the reason this party is happening.”
A heavy silence settled between them. Yourupt slowed his pace, instinctively giving Isabella space as he sensed the anger simmering beneath her composed exterior. They continued walking in silence for a few minutes, the distant hum of the party growing louder, a reminder that the night was just beginning.
Yourupt and Isabella entered the main hall, now alive with guests from across creation. Towering ceilings shimmered with golden patterns under massive chandeliers, while arched windows framed distant, otherworldly landscapes. A grand fountain stood at the center, its waters reflecting candlelight from elegantly set tables.
The crowd was diverse nobles in embroidered robes, warriors in ceremonial armor, and scholars draped in flowing cloaks. Maids moved gracefully through the guests, offering trays of exotic food and drink. Soft orchestral music filled the air, adding to the refined yet tense atmosphere.
Yourupt adjusted his collar, sensing the weight of cautious glances. This wasn’t just a celebration there was more beneath the surface.
Yourupt was amazed by the sight before him, wondering how the maids had managed to prepare the main hall in such a short time. Though he was still worried about upsetting Isabella further, she surprised him by speaking up.
Isabella: “It’s our mana that allows us to create new things out of matter,” she explained.
Yourupt nodded, recalling something he had heard before.
Yourupt: “I’m assuming this comes from the maids born from that tree… what was it called again? Te Whaea Rākau?”
Isabella’s posture relaxed slightly.
Isabella: “Yes.The natural maids share a connection with The True Writer, which grants them a fraction of his creation power. Not that the other mana users can’t create matter, but those girls are simply better at it. The rest of us can manipulate the house—adjusting the interior, adding decorations, and making changes for the night. With so many of us working at once, it’s no wonder we finished so quickly.”
Isabella walked over to the stair railing, resting her arms on it as she gazed down at the hall. Yourupt followed, keeping an eye on her. For a brief moment, he sensed a sudden shift in her mana faint but noticeable. He couldn’t quite place the cause, but before he could dwell on it, Isabella spoke.
Isabella: “Sorry for what I said back in the west hall,” she admitted.
Isabella: “Lady Chihaya told me you weren’t really in control for those last ten years… and I realize now how insensitive I was. I can’t even imagine how it must feel to finally have your body back.”
Yourupt, still puzzled by the flicker in her mana, met her gaze.
Yourupt: “It’s fine, Isabella. Actually, you helped me understand just how important tonight really is.”
He placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder.
Yourupt: “Let’s fix things—one step at a time.”
As he spoke, Isabella’s mana settled back to normal, leaving Yourupt with nothing but questions.
Just as everything seemed normal, the unsettling shift in mana returned—stronger and more distinct. Before Yourupt could pinpoint its source, Isabella suddenly swayed and collapsed, her body going limp in an instant.
Panic surged through him as he caught her just before she hit the floor.
Yourupt: "Isabella?" he called, but there was no response. Her breathing was steady, but her mana felt unstable, like a flickering flame struggling against an unseen force.
Then, just as quickly as it had come, the strange burst of mana vanished, leaving no trace behind. Yourupt scanned the hall, but nothing seemed out of place. Whatever had happened, it had been brief but intentional. And that worried him.
Yourupt’s mind raced as he held Isabella in his arms. Her vitals were stable, and her mana levels seemed normal, but she remained unconscious. There was no immediate sign of a physical attack, no lingering presence of hostile magic—just that brief, unsettling shift in mana before she collapsed.
His dark blue eyes swept across the main hall, scanning the sea of guests. Whoever had done this was still here, hidden among the crowd. But he couldn’t afford to cause a scene—not yet. Revealing his suspicions now would only invite chaos, and he needed to act quickly.
Taking a steady breath, Yourupt tightened his grip on Isabella. Shadows curled around his feet, swirling up like black smoke before swallowing them both whole. The sensation was instant—like slipping through a crack in reality itself. The grand hall vanished in an instant, replaced by the quiet sterility of the medical wing.
The air was cooler here, scented with herbs and antiseptics. The dim lighting cast soft shadows along the walls, and the sound of distant footsteps echoed through the corridors. Yourupt adjusted his hold on Isabella as he stepped forward, his boots tapping against the polished floors.
A door creaked open ahead, and Head Maid Scarlett turned to face him, her crimson eyes sharp with curiosity.
Scarlett: “Teleportation?” she mused, crossing her arms.
Scarlett: “I take it something’s wrong.”
Yourupt didn’t waste time with pleasantries.
Yourupt: “She collapsed,” he said, laying Isabella gently onto one of the examination beds.
Yourupt: “Her vitals are fine, and her mana levels seem normal, but right before it happened, I sensed something—an unknown presence. It was only there for a moment, but then it was gone.”
Scarlett’s expression darkened as she moved to examine Isabella.
Scarlett: “Something strong enough to affect her mana flow but disappears without a trace…” She placed a hand over Isabella’s forehead, her own mana weaving through the unconscious maid like threads of silk.
Yourupt watched, his fists clenching at his sides. He had spent too long as a prisoner in his own body losing control again wasn’t an option. Whatever had caused Isabella’s collapse, he needed to find the source. And if someone had done this on purpose, they would regret it.
Yourupt didn’t have time to investigate—he had to deal with the bounty hunters first. Turning to Head Maid Scarlett, he said,
Yourupt: “I can’t track down the culprit right now. I need to handle the deal.”
Scarlett nodded, her expression serious.
Scarlett: “I understand. I’ll keep an eye on Isabella and have the maids watch for any unusual sources of mana. If anything strange happens, I’ll let you know immediately.”
As she spoke, Yourupt placed a hand on Isabella’s forehead, closing his eyes in concentration. Scarlett furrowed her brow.
Scarlett: “What are you doing?”
Yourupt: “Checking her memories,” he replied.
Yourupt: “I need to see what she knows about Ryouji Leich—what he looks like and where he might be.”
Diving into her recent thoughts, he found fragmented glimpses of a man—Ryouji. His face was partially obscured, but enough details were there to recognize him. However, when Yourupt tried to see what Isabella had experienced right before she collapsed, the memory was nothing but static, as if something had erased or distorted it. The interference was deliberate, unnatural.
But something else caught his attention. In the moments leading up to her collapse, Isabella had been experiencing frequent headaches. Yourupt pulled back and looked at Scarlett.
Yourupt: “Has Isabella mentioned having headaches lately?”
Scarlett hesitated for a moment before answering.
Scarlett: “She did say she was having strange visions, but whenever I asked, she couldn’t explain. It was like something was stopping her from speaking about it.”
Yourupt exhaled sharply, his suspicion growing.
Yourupt: “That lines up with what I saw. Whatever knocked her out wasn’t just an attack, it’s blocking her memories, too.” He clenched his fist.
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
Yourupt: “I don’t like this.”
Scarlett placed a hand on his arm, her voice steady.
Scarlett: “Then be careful, Yourupt. Whatever is behind this isn’t acting randomly.”
Yourupt didn’t respond immediately, lost in thought. Then, with a nod, he stepped back and let the shadows coil around him, swallowing him whole as he teleported back to the main hall.
Scarlett watched the space where he had stood just moments before, her expression darkening. She took a deep breath, then murmured under her breath,
Scarlett: “I need to tell Lady Chihaya before he finds out the truth.”
Yourupt would return to the upper rails of the main hall checking on the current state of the hall. That is now full of people from the unknown like the royal families of the unknown realms
Yourupt emerged from the shadows at the entrance of the main hall, blending seamlessly into the crowd. He leaned casually against the west side of the entrance, his eyes scanning the sea of guests flowing in. The air buzzed with conversation, laughter, and the soft melody of elegant music, yet his focus remained sharp, searching for any trace of the strange mana he had sensed earlier.
As he observed the room, a familiar presence touched his mind. A psionic link formed, and Yuna’s voice echoed in his thoughts.
Yourupt exhaled sharply, leaning against the wall as he scanned the sea of guests. His voice was steady but laced with frustration as he spoke through the psionic link.
Yourupt: "I'm assuming Head Maid Scarlett told you what happened?"
Yuna’s voice came through clearly.
Yuna: "She did. She told me everything about Isabella. Hopefully, she wakes up soon. But this isn’t good at all. I haven’t told Lady Chihaya yet—she’s still speaking with the Dravenholme Family."
Yourupt narrowed his eyes, watching for any unusual movement among the crowd.
Yourupt: "So what am I supposed to do about finding whoever did this?"
Yuna hesitated for a moment before answering.
Yuna: "That’s not a good idea. If this person knows who you are and sees you looking, they’ll disappear. And the fact that they knew exactly where you were? That tells me this is personal. Whoever attacked Isabella has a grudge against you or most likely Dark Yourupt."
Yourupt’s fingers curled into a fist as frustration built inside him.
Yourupt: "So what? You want me to just stand around and do nothing?" His voice was sharp, his patience wearing thin.
Yuna: "That’s not what I’m saying," Yuna countered quickly. "Like Lady Chihaya said, your priority is finalizing this deal. It’s crucial to uncover the truth behind the rifts. I’ve already ordered the maids to stay on alert. If we find anything—or if things get messy—I’ll call you."
Yourupt exhaled through his nose, but the tension didn’t leave him. His fist clenched tighter before he slammed it into the wall beside him. The impact sent a faint crack through the surface, but he barely registered it.
Yourupt: "Damn it…" He took a breath, forcing himself to focus. "Alright. I’ll get the deal done."
Yuna: "Just don’t let this weigh on you too much," Yuna reassured him. "I need to get back to Lady Chihaya. Stay safe, Yourupt."
Yourupt: "You too, kid," Yourupt muttered before the link cut off.
Yourupt could feel the weight of the night pressing down on him. The tension in the air, the lingering echoes of his past creeping back into the present—it was suffocating. But what frustrated him the most wasn’t just the chaos unfolding around him; it was the fact that, once again, his past had led to someone getting hurt. Someone was watching him. He could feel it, an unseen presence lurking in the distance, almost as if it were taunting him.
Yourupt: "Of all nights for something like this to happen, it had to be now," he muttered under his breath, his voice laced with quiet anger.
Every instinct in him screamed to hunt this person down, to rip them from the shadows and cut their head clean off. But he couldn’t. Not yet. The deal had to come first.
Exhaling sharply, he forced his eyes shut, drowning out the noise, the pressure, the frustration. He focused inward, steadying himself, controlling the storm that threatened to surge within him. Slowly, his mana settled, the raw energy once on the brink of flaring now bending to his will.
When he opened his eyes again, the fire that burned inside him was hidden behind a mask of indifference. His expression returned to its usual
nonchalant calm, and he exhaled one last time.
Yourupt: "I can't let myself get overwhelmed by something this simple," he murmured, straightening his posture.
With his emotions locked away and his focus sharpened, he stepped forward. The night wasn’t over yet.
Meanwhile, at the Singularity Line, the boundary separating Te Moana Nui o ngā Ao Whāiti from The Unknown, Jean’s army remained stationed, ensuring that no outside forces interrupted the party. The fleet stood ready, a silent but imposing presence guarding against any potential threats.
Aboard the main command ship, inside the captain’s cockpit, officers worked diligently, maintaining communication with the other ships, monitoring energy readings, and keeping a close eye on any anomalies. The atmosphere was calm but focused, with everyone carrying out their duties with precision.
At the center of it all stood High Captain Jean, watching over the operation with a steady gaze. His posture was rigid, his eyes locked onto the endless void beyond the ship's reinforced windows. He had been in enough battles to know that moments of quiet like this never lasted forever.
In contrast, Wfighter was far more relaxed. He leaned back in his chair, swirling a drink in his hand as he watched the officers move about. Unlike the rest of the crew, he didn’t seem concerned about potential threats. Taking a slow sip, he let out a satisfied sigh.
Wfighter: “This is quite the setup,” he muttered, stretching slightly. “Almost makes me wish something would happen. It’s way too quiet.”
Jean didn’t react immediately. He remained focused on the vast expanse outside, his expression unreadable. After a moment, he finally spoke, his voice low but firm.
Jean: “Silence like this never lasts. Stay ready.”
Wfighter threw his arms in the air, grinning.
Wfigther: “Let’s goooo!”
Both he and High Captain Jean grabbed their bottles, drinking as the tension in the room eased. They started talking more casually, reminiscing about past battles, joking about ridiculous training drills, and laughing at the absurdity of their current situation—guarding an entire sector while drinking like old friends.
Jean leaned back against the control panel, shaking his head.
Jean: “I still don’t get how you can be this relaxed. You do remember what we’re guarding, right?”
Wfighter took another sip and smirked.
Wfighter: “Of course, I do. That’s why I’m drinking. Besides, if something happens, I’d rather face it with a little buzz than a headache.”
Jean sighed, rubbing his temples.
Wfighter: “You really haven’t changed.”
BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!
A sharp alarm cut through their conversation. The room, once filled with laughter, now turned tense. One of the officers frantically typed at his station before turning toward them, his voice uneasy.
Officer 1#: “High Captain! Wfighter! We’re detecting strange energy readings, but they’re… abnormal.”
Jean straightened up, placing his drink down.
Jean: “Abnormal how?”
Another officer quickly joined in, his voice laced with urgency.
Officer 2#: “The readings… they’re showing us that something is coming, but there’s no solid form. It’s like… a moving void. A space of absolute nothingness.”
Wfighter frowned, setting his bottle aside as he walked over.
Wfighter: “A void? That’s not possible. Even a cloaked ship would still give off some kind of signal.”
The crew members scrambled to analyze the data, tension thickening in the air. Then—
BZZT—BOOM!
The energy monitors exploded, sparks flying as warning sirens blared across the control room. Officers shielded themselves from the sudden burst of electricity as screens flickered wildly before going completely dark.
Jean’s eyes darted across the room.
Jean: “What the hell just happened? Status report!”
One officer, hands shaking as he tried to reboot the systems, looked up with a pale face.
Officer 1#: “Sir… we lost all readings. The energy surge fried our detection systems.”
Another officer, still frantically pressing buttons, cursed under his breath.
Officer 3#: “We can’t see where it’s coming from anymore… It’s just—gone.”
Wfighter and Jean exchanged serious glances. Whatever was out there, it wasn’t just some anomaly. Something—or someone—was approaching. And now, they were completely blind to it.
High Captain Jean quickly straightened up, his voice sharp and commanding.
Jean: “Tell the other ships to prepare for battle and hold their positions. Do not engage unless I give the order—or unless you see something out there aside from Wfighter.”
The officers scrambled to relay the command, their hands moving swiftly over the control panels as warning signals flashed across the remaining operational screens.
Wfighter, still standing near his seat, downed the rest of his drink in one gulp and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. A grin spread across his face as he cracked his neck.
Wfigther: “Finally, something’s happening.”
Jean, arms crossed, kept his gaze fixed on the dark expanse beyond the ship’s reinforced windows. His expression hardened.
Jean: “This must be them, Wfighter. I’d tell you to be careful, but let’s be honest—you wouldn’t listen. That said,” Jean continued, his tone serious, “you’re our last stand if things go south. I’ve got a few tricks up my sleeve to slow them down, but it won’t hold forever. If backup doesn’t arrive in time, it’ll be up to you.”
Hearing those words, Wfighter’s excitement only grew, his pulse quickening at the thought of finally being able to unleash his power. But he knew one thing—he had to take the fight far away from the battleships. If whatever was coming could cloak itself from their sensors, it wasn’t an enemy to underestimate.
He took a deep breath, his entire demeanor shifting as a serious expression took over his usual carefree face. Slowly, his mana began to pulse around him, the air growing heavy with power. The ship’s lights flickered slightly in response.
Wfighter: “Make sure the drinks are still cold when I get back,” Wfighter said, his voice calm yet filled with unwavering confidence. He glanced at Jean before adding, “Don’t worry—I’ll get your people back home.”
Without another word, Wfighter’s figure flickered and vanished as he teleported out of the cockpit, heading straight into the darkness, ready to face this unseen foe.
Flying into the belly of the beast all alone, Wfighter drifted through the vast emptiness, his senses sharpened to detect even the slightest shift in space. It wasn’t easy—this part of the cosmos was an endless void, a realm where nothingness itself seemed to stretch infinitely. But thanks to his relentless mana training, Wfighter had honed his awareness to an extreme degree. Even here, in this abyss, he could pick up the faintest disturbance.
Wfighter: "I know what you are," he muttered, his eyes scanning the darkness. "And I’ve felt a similar energy before… actually, not too long ago."
As he continued searching for the source of the eerie presence, a voice emerged from the void—an unnatural, layered chorus of multiple voices speaking at once.
The Voice: “The mortal that gods fear… God Slayer… First and last student of the True Writer. Wfighter, you are a man of many titles, each earned through impossible feats. You have defied fate itself, time and time again. And the fact that you remain wholly human makes your accomplishments all the more impressive.”
Wfighter smirked, his body relaxed yet ready.
Wfighter: "I'm truly honored. It's not every day I get praised by some weird hidden voice from the void."
The voice, however, did not continue its praise. Instead, its tone darkened.
The Voice: “I would not be so confident, Wfighter. Even if mana was gifted by the True Writer so that mortals could stand against the gods—because he loved his creations more than any other, perhaps too much—your past victories will mean nothing here. Your experiences will not aid you in this fight. And soon, all those lower lifeforms you protect will be erased from creation.”
Wfighter’s smirk faded, his eyes narrowing as his mana subtly flared around him. The tension in the void thickened. He could feel it now—the presence lurking within the abyss, watching, waiting. This was no ordinary battle. This was a confrontation that had been long in the making.
Wfighter smirked, unfazed by the ominous voice.
Wfighter: "You know, slowly creeping out of the void isn’t going to scare me if that’s what you’re going for. How about we skip the boring part and get
straight to the best part—where I show you that, just like the rest, you’ll end up as nothing more than an afterthought?"
The layered voice started to split, distorting into two distinct tones.
The Voice: "Let’s see if you can back up all that confidence," they said in unison.
Suddenly, a figure lunged from behind, but Wfighter reacted instantly. Without turning, he smoothly caught the attacker’s left arm, deflecting them with minimal effort. The figure adjusted mid-air and launched another strike—a rapid punch aimed at Wfighter’s head. With equal speed, Wfighter countered, redirecting the attack and striking back. The two clashed in a blinding exchange of blows, fists moving so fast they blurred against the darkness. Neither could land a decisive hit.
Wfighter, gaining the edge, finally saw an opening and was about to land a powerful punch—when the figure vanished.
In that instant, a high-speed spinning scythe hurtled toward him. Wfighter twisted his body, barely avoiding a direct hit. As he raised his arms, mana surged around them, shielding him from the weapon’s strange, unnatural energy. With expert precision, he caught the spinning scythe mid-air, its momentum still fierce. Channeling his strength, he redirected it, hurling it back toward where it came from.
As the weapon spun back, Wfighter finally got a clear look at his mysterious opponents.
One was a young girl, her gaze cold yet unreadable, catching the scythe as if it were an extension of herself. Her stance was refined, controlled—she was no ordinary fighter. The second was a humanoid machine, its metallic body forged from an unknown material, gleaming even in the void’s emptiness. Its piercing, artificial eyes locked onto him, radiating a silent but deadly intent.
Wfighter narrowed his eyes.
Wfighter: "Well, this wasn’t what I was expecting… and I definitely wasn’t expecting them to be this skilled."
As tension filled the void once more, the battle was only beginning.
TO BE CONTINUED…