A family—a mother, father, and two small children—runs through the smoke-filled streets, their faces pale with fear. The children’s cries mingle with the crackling of burning debris as they stumble over the uneven ground. Behind them, three skeletal creatures with ethereal wings give chase, their staffs raised high, glowing with sinister energy.
The father clutches his son's hand tightly, urging him to keep pace, while the mother holds her daughter close, her arms trembling with the strain. Panic is etched deep into their expressions, the terror of knowing each step might be their last, driving them forward.
“Run faster!” the father yells, casting a desperate glance over his shoulder as the creatures close the distance. Their growls grow louder, echoing through the empty streets.
Just as the monsters raise their staffs to strike, a shadowy figure swoops in from above, moving with the swiftness of a wraith. A dark blade slices through the air in a blur of motion, cleaving the creatures in half with a single, precise strike.
—Slash!
The creatures disintegrate into tendrils of dark mist, their bodies vanishing before they can lay a hand on the fleeing family. The shadowy figure lands smoothly before the stunned parents, revealing André, his eyes glowing with a fierce, unyielding light.
The family freezes, gasping in disbelief as they see their savior—tall, imposing, and radiating an aura of raw power.
“Are you alright?” André asks, his deep voice carrying a calm reassurance as he surveys the terrified faces before him. His dark cloak sways in the wind, shadows curling around his form like living extensions of his will.
The father, his voice shaky with gratitude, nods rapidly. “Thank you… thank you, sir—Mayor Eñeforte.”
André’s expression softens momentarily, a rare glimpse of warmth breaking through his hardened demeanor. “You’re safe now but must head to the evacuation center immediately. Don’t linger.”
He raises his hand, and shadowy energy swirls around him, coalescing into a portal that forms on the ground beside the family. The edges of the portal shimmer like liquid darkness, casting an otherworldly glow over the cobblestones.
“Step into the portal. It will take you directly to the evacuation center,” André instructs, his tone leaving no room for hesitation.
The mother hesitates, clutching her children closer, but the father nods reassuringly.
“Let’s go. We can trust him.”
The family steps into the portal, disappearing into the darkness one by one. The portal seals behind them with a soft sigh, leaving André alone amidst the chaos. The father’s grateful voice echos faintly as it closes.
“Thank you, sir! Thank you!”
With the family safely evacuated, André’s expression hardens once more as he turns his gaze back to the burning town. Shadowy wings unfurl from his back, and with a powerful beat, he soars into the air, scanning the chaos below.
As he flies above the devastated streets, his mind races with anxiety. He stretches his senses outward, hoping to detect a familiar trace of Mana—Arthur’s or anything to reassure him that his son is safe. But the energy currents from the [A] ranked Stargate distort everything, making it nearly impossible to pinpoint any single presence.
Below, he catches glimpses of Les Arcanes Éternels members working frantically to guide civilians to safety, their robes flashing between the shadows as they fend off attacking creatures. Despite the chaos, they move with purpose, protecting those unable to protect themselves.
—Crackle!
A sudden streak of lightning splits the sky, illuminating the scene in a flash of blinding white. André’s instincts scream danger, and he veers sharply to the side, narrowly dodging a bolt that crashes into the street below, sending shards of stone flying.
He frowns, realizing that the lightning lacks the telltale signature of Mana—it’s merely a product of the fierce storm raging above.
“Hey there!” a deep, confident voice rings out, cutting through the storm’s rumble.
André spins midair, his eyes locking onto a massive figure striding toward him with a swagger. The man is powerfully built, his long blond hair flowing in the wind, and his tailored black jacket with purple accents fits him like armor. His piercing blue eyes gleam with a dangerous thrill.
André’s gaze narrows as he takes in the stranger. Even without reaching out with his senses, he can feel the power radiating from this man—an [SS] rank.
“Who are you?” André demands, his voice carrying a cold edge.
The man’s lips curl into a smirk, his amusement evident. “I’m Bjorn Haakonsen,” he replies, laced with arrogance. “And I’ve been looking forward to this. I want to fight you, André—or should I say, 'The Death.’”
The name hits André like a jolt. His identity as 'The Death'—a title he had kept hidden beneath a shroud of secrecy—was supposed to be known to only a select few. The family he had rescued earlier recognized him because he wasn’t wearing his usual disguise, but for a stranger like Bjorn to know? This was no coincidence.
Only a handful of [SS] ranked Magicians exist, and they guard their identities fiercely. Even his childhood friend Maurice had kept his status under wraps. The fact that Bjorn had sought him out specifically meant this was a deliberate challenge, not a chance encounter.
Tension crackles between them, mirroring the storm overhead. André’s thoughts race—he knows he should focus on finding Dominic, but he can’t ignore the immediate threat.
He grits his teeth, aware of the time slipping away. If he doesn’t handle this quickly, he risks being delayed while his son remains in danger. But he also knows the risks of using his full power—of letting “him” take control, something he dreads more than anything.
“I don’t have time for this,” André growls, his voice low and filled with warning.
Bjorn’s grin widens, and his aura flares with excitement. “You don’t have a choice, André. Let’s see if 'The Death' matches his legend.”
Dark Mana surges around André, forming a cloak of shadow that swirls like a living storm. His eyes narrow, focusing on the fight ahead, knowing that every moment counts. He might not have asked for this battle, but he won't back down if it’s a test of his strength.
“If you insist, let’s get this over with,” André says, his voice cutting through the storm's roar.
With a burst of energy, the clash begins, shadow meeting power in a battle that could reshape the very landscape of the Eñeforte territory.
════⋆★⋆════
Dominic Eñeforte
As we run through the chaotic streets, the town around us is engulfed in madness. Arthur carries me with steady determination, his arms strong beneath me, while Lumi leads the way, her eyes scanning for the safest route through the destruction. The air buzzes with energy, charged with fear and the distant roars of the creatures that have emerged from the Stargate.
"Rahh!"
Familiar, menacing roars echo through the smoke-filled sky. Raising my head, I spot the skeletal creatures. Their eerie forms cut through the haze as they swoop toward us, their staffs raised high and glowing with a sinister light.
Arthur’s grip tightens around me, ensuring I am secure. "Avalon's Guard!" he shouts, his voice carrying a note of defiance.
A radiant light envelops us, forming a protective barrier that shimmers with ethereal energy. A shield, glowing with a soft, golden hue, surrounds our small group like a protective cocoon.
"Rahh!"
The creatures charge, their movements swift and aggressive, their staffs poised to strike.
"Frostguard Phalanx!" Lumi’s voice cuts through the chaos, steady and composed, as she raises her hands.
Instantly, three knightly figures forged from ice materialize in front of us. Their crystalline forms gleam in the flickering light as they brandish massive claymores, intercepting the creatures' attack.
—Clank! Clank!
The sound of ice meeting spectral flesh echoes through the broken streets. The ice knights parry the incoming blows, forcing the creatures back into the air.
Forming a protective circle around us, the ice knights stand tall, their swords ready. Above, the creatures regroup, circling with renewed fury, their malevolent eyes glowing as they assess the situation.
Arthur keeps his hold on my firm, his face set with determination. Lumi stands beside him, her hands still aglow, ready to unleash another spell.
"Rahh!"
A new, deeper roar resonates through the air, drawing our attention to a new adversary. Emerging from the shadows is a regal, lion-like creature, its presence commanding and terrifying. Clad in golden armor adorned with intricate red filigree, the creature's massive, feathered wings unfurl, casting an ominous shadow across the ground.
The sight of it sends a chill down my spine. This creature isn’t like the others—its power radiates with an intensity that makes my skin crawl.
"Avalon's Blast!" Arthur’s shout is filled with determination as he extends his hand toward the beast.
Three beams of intense light shoot forth from his outstretched hand, hurtling toward the lion-like creature with precision.
—Boom!
The beams strike their target, engulfing the creature in smoke and debris. The ground shakes from the impact, sending ripples through the broken streets.
"Rah!"
But even as the dust settles, the skeletal creatures seize the opportunity. They dive down from above, and their staff aims directly at us.
The ice knights move swiftly, raising their claymores to meet the assault.
—Clank! Clank! Clank!
Metal clashes against spectral staffs as the knights block the attacks. But amidst the chaos, one creature slips through its defenses, darting straight toward us, its staff poised for a deadly strike.
"Icicle Lance Barrage!" Lumi’s voice rings out, sharp and clear.
In an instant, three jagged ice lances shoot forward, each piercing the creature’s chest with deadly precision.
—Squelch!
"Rahhh!"
The creature lets out a guttural scream as the ice lances tear through its form, pinning it to the ground. It twitches violently before collapsing, lifeless.
But any relief we feel is short-lived. The lion-like creature emerges from the smoke, its majestic form unmarred. Arthur’s spell has barely made a scratch.
—Sizzle!
Electricity crackles around its open maw, the air humming with a charged energy as it gathers power into a glowing orb of lightning.
—Crackle!
The creature unleashes a massive lightning bolt with a roar, hurtling it directly at us.
"Avalon's Radiant Aegis!" Arthur shouts, summoning a large, translucent shield that unfurls like a blooming flower.
—Boom!
The lightning bolt collides with the shield, rippling a shockwave through the air. The barrier holds, but the impact forces Arthur to his knees, straining his expression.
"Rah!"
Another skeletal creature manages to sneak close. Still in Arthur's arms, I quickly draw one of my 'Galahad’s Judgement' pistols, aiming at the creature’s head.
—Bang!
—Clank!
The bullet deflects off the creature’s staff, barely missing its mark.
“Arthur!” I shout, feeling the creature’s threat closing in.
"Avalon's Blast!"
Arthur’s command is quick, summoning a small orb of light beside him. It fires a beam directly at the creature, catching it off guard.
"Rahh!"
The beam shatters the creature’s staff and obliterates its spectral form, leaving only ashes in its wake.
—Boom!
A loud crash steals my attention. I turn just in time to see Lumi thrown against a crumbling wall, her ice knights vanishing as she crumples. Three more creatures advance on her prone form, their eyes gleaming maliciously.
"Lumi!"
Panic grips my chest. She is crucial to the future battles against Umbrascourge—alongside Célestin and Violette. She can’t fall here, not now.
Arthur’s breathing grows heavier, each intake strained. "Tch!" he hisses, frustration clear in his eyes.
Above, the three creatures circle while the lion prepares another lightning strike. We are in dire straits: outnumbered, Lumi unconscious, Arthur’s energy waning, and I am too injured to fight effectively.
“Hah…hah…” Arthur’s labored breaths tell me everything I need to know—his Mana reserves are almost depleted.
"Arthur, how much mana do you have left?" I ask, struggling to keep the fear out of my voice.
"Not much," he replies, his voice barely above a whisper.
We need a plan, and we need it fast.
“Arthur, use your ‘Flash of Merlin’ spell to get us out of—”
“Time Reaver!”
A new voice echoes through the chaos, sharp and commanding. A large rift, glitching and shimmering like a broken reality, materializes behind the creatures, sucking them in with an unstoppable force.
I freeze, disbelief washing over me. That spell—Time Reaver. Could it be…?
“Wow, you three look like a mess.”
I twist around, my eyes landing on a figure standing atop a ruined rooftop, a cocky smile playing on his lips. His medium-length, airy, light blue hair catches the wind, and his sharp, light blue eyes gleam with amusement. It’s Célestin Moreau, the protagonist of the web novel.
My mind reels. What is he doing here? None of this has happened in the web novel I know.
“Célestie! You’re so strong!” A second voice chimes in, and I turn to see Violette, her vibrant purple hair catching the light as she stands near Lumi.
I notice that Lumi is no longer slumped against the wall but lying on a bed of flowers, cradled by the gentle vines of a large, rapidly spinning blossom that floats like a helicopter.
Why is she here, too?
“Who are you?” Arthur demands, his stance tense, ready for a fight.
Célestin flashes a bright, almost cocky smile and leaps gracefully from the building, landing lightly before us. His light blue hair sways as he straightens up, his demeanor friendly yet exuding an air of confidence that borders on arrogance.
“Yo! Name’s Célestin Moreau,” he says, his voice light but carrying through the chaos around us. “And you, Dominic Eñeforte, look like you could use a hand.”
The mention of my name sends a jolt through me. I stare at him, trying to mask my surprise.
“How… how do you know my name?” I ask, my voice cracking slightly from the pain and confusion.
Célestin shrugs, his smirk widening. “Heh, I’ve got my ways. Call it a hunch.”
Before I can probe further, Arthur’s voice breaks in, skeptical and wary. “Doms, do you know this guy?”
I turn to Arthur, who still holds me securely, though his grip has loosened slightly. “We met back in Aurelior, but we never exchanged names.”
Célestin grins at Arthur, clearly enjoying our bewilderment. “Hey, you there, the Lyon one, you’re alive? That’s surprising!”
Arthur bristles at the comment, narrowing his eyes. “What do you mean by that? And how do you know who I am?”
Célestin’s smile doesn’t waver, but a hint of amusement dances in his eyes. “Ah, well, I didn’t expect to see you here, Arthur Lyon, alive and kicking. Thought you’d be… well, out of commission.”
Arthur’s eyes narrow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Célestin chuckles, a casual sound contrasting sharply with the chaos around us. “It means, kid, that you’re not exactly known for surviving tough situations, especially not with your… limited skills.”
Arthur’s face flushes with irritation, his jaw tightening. “And what exactly makes you think you’re better than me?”
“Oh, I don’t think it, I know it,” Célestin replies with a smirk. “You might have some flashy light spells, but you’re nowhere near my level, kid. Try to keep up.”
Despite his condescending words, his tone remains oddly playful, as if he finds the whole exchange entertaining.
Arthur’s irritation is palpable, and I can feel his grip on me tense slightly as he struggles to keep cool. Knowing Célestin’s personality from the web novel, I’m not surprised—he calls people ‘weak’ even when he doesn’t mean to be malicious. It’s just part of his overconfident charm. He reminds me of a character with white hair and blue eyes from a manga I once read back in Japan.
In the back of my mind, I weigh their abilities. Célestin and Arthur possess rare magic attributes—Time for Célestin and Light for Arthur. But if they were to fight, I know Célestin would likely come out on top. He has more refined spells and a deeper understanding of combat, especially given that he’s already a [C+] rank at his age, an impressive feat for someone preparing to enroll at Verdant Arcanum. On the other hand, Arthur’s rank is still a mystery to me. I never think to ask.
Before their bickering can escalate further, Violette steps forward, her arms crossed and expression stern.
“This isn’t the time for a pissing contest, boys,” she snaps, her tone cutting through their exchange. “We have bigger issues to handle. The evacuation center isn’t far, and we need to get there before more of those creatures show up.”
She gestures toward me, her eyes assessing my injuries with a sharp, clinical gaze. “And you, you need healing. You’re in no condition to fight or walk much longer.”
Her words seem almost caring, but I don’t miss the flicker of emotion in her eyes—disgust. I know where that disdain comes from. Violette’s background as part of a Magician supremacist family means she looks down on those without Mana, especially someone like me. Her kindness is a thin veneer over the prejudice she can’t quite hide.
Beside me, I feel Arthur’s grip loosen again as if her disdainful glance made him question his role. “Sorry, Doms,” he murmurs, barely audible over the distant roars and flames crackling.
I look up at him, offering a weak smile despite the pain. “It’s okay, Arthur. I know you’ve got my back.”
Arthur’s expression softens, and he nods, determination settling in his gaze again.
Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
Célestin, ever the confident leader, claps his hands together, drawing our attention. “Alright, here’s the plan. I’ll take the rear and make sure nothing follows us. Arthur, you watch Dominic and get him to the center. Lumi’s floating on Violette’s flower trick, so she’ll be safe enough. Violette, you take the lead and guide us through.”
Violette’s eyes flash with irritation, but she looks slightly away and pouts. “Okay. Let’s move quickly.”
Arthur adjusts his grip on me, and with one last glance toward the smoldering skyline, he begins to follow Violette. Célestin lingers a moment longer, offering me a knowing smile.
“Hang in there, Dominic. We’re not done yet.”
With that, he turns, his hands glowing with a faint blue aura as he prepares to guard our escape route.
════⋆★⋆════
The wind howls as I stand on the rooftop's edge, looking down at the chaos engulfing the town in the Eñeforte Territory. The Stargate hovers above like a gaping wound in the sky, its unnatural glow casting eerie shadows across the streets below. Creatures from the Stargate's depths rampage through the town, their roars mingling with the desperate cries of those trying to escape. Flames dance along shattered buildings, turning the once-peaceful town into a scene of utter devastation.
And there, amidst the chaos, I spot him—my target. The Manaless boy that Lord Malignor ordered me to kill. He’s draped over the shoulder of a young man with bright blond hair and green eyes, unmistakably a member of the Lyon family. Arthur Lyon, if I recall correctly. He’s one of Verdant Haven’s elite—someone grown up with privilege and opportunity handed to him on a silver platter.
But it's not Arthur who holds my focus. It's the boy he’s carrying. The Manaless. Just a kid with no magic, no power. A nobody in a world that worships Mana. Yet, somehow, Lord Malignor sees something in him—something worth sending me to eliminate. And I have no idea what that is. He doesn’t look like a threat. He doesn’t even look like he belongs in this world. Why is he so important?
I don’t know all the details. I’ve seen the senior Generals of Umbrascourge, ranked higher than me, have private meetings with Lord Malignor. Meetings I wasn’t privy to. Whatever information they have about this boy, they’re keeping it tight. All I know is that I have my orders, and if I want to climb higher within Umbrascourge, I can’t afford to question them.
But then my gaze shifts to the others. A girl with short, vibrant purple hair—Violette Florelle—leading the way with that arrogant air she always has. The unconscious white-haired girl in the flower cradle—Lumi Everheart, the Everheart family's pride and a symbol of Verdant Haven’s magical prodigies. And guarding their rear, with his confident smirk and that irritatingly casual swagger, is the boy with airy, light-blue hair.
Célestin Moreau.
My hands clench into fists at the sight of him. Even now, the mere mention of his name makes my blood boil. The heir of the Moreau family. The crown jewel of Verdant Haven’s high society. His family owns and operates Moreau Aether Mining Inc.—the biggest Aether mining company in the nation.
But beneath their polished image lies the truth I can’t forget. The Moreau family has built their wealth on the backs of the common folk. Their mines rip through the earth, draining it dry and leaving barren wastelands where thriving communities once stood. They say it’s for the advancement of magic and technology, but all I see are lives ruined for their profit. Families are left with nothing while the Moreaus flaunt their luxury. They’re the people I swore to bring down when I joined Umbrascourge.
Anger flares in my chest, hot and consuming. The urge to act, to tear through the air and rip Célestin apart with my magic, surges within me. My mind races with the imagined satisfaction of seeing his smug expression replaced by fear and pain. And that Manaless boy? He’s just collateral. If Lord Malignor wants him dead, I’ll make it happen. Two birds with one stone.
“I’ll kill him,” I mutter to myself, my voice barely a whisper above the wind. “I’ll kill them both.”
But I hesitate, my feet rooted to the edge of the rooftop. I know my orders and the consequences of acting outside of them. Malignor wanted the Manaless boy’s death to serve a purpose.
Still, as I look at the figures below, something inside me snaps. For too long, I’ve watched as people like Célestin and his family have taken everything from us—our land, our livelihoods, our future. Now, I can fight back to make them pay.
My hands tremble with barely suppressed rage as I summon my magic, feeling the familiar surge of dark energy ripple through my veins. The crows gather around me, their black wings blending with the shadows of the storm clouds above.
“Just give me a chance,” I whisper into the wind, my eyes locked on Célestin’s figure as he stands guard, oblivious to the fury aimed his way. “And I’ll tear it all down.”
════⋆★⋆════
Arthur's grip on me tightens as we continue sprinting down the crumbling streets, dodging debris and stumbling over broken pavement.
Lumi remains unconscious, cradled in the flower bed suspended by vines, hovering behind Violette like some strange, ethereal guardian. Violette leads the way, her focus sharp as she navigates through the chaos.
Behind us, Célestin is a blur of motion. Every time a skeletal creature lunges at us from the shadows, he raises his hand, his voice calm and commanding.
“Time Bombs.”
Each time he utters those words, a small sphere of distorted blue energy appears, clinging to the creature’s chest or head. The air around it warps, and the time-warped bomb ticks for a second before erupting. The creatures age within the blink of an eye, their bones crumbling to dust as if centuries have passed in mere moments.
That’s one of Célestin’s spells, “Time Bomb.” The spell plants a temporal distortion at a location or on an object. After a short delay, the distortion explodes, causing a localized burst of accelerated time. The explosion ages everything within its radius, with objects rusting and organic matter withering away in seconds.
When multiple creatures attack at once, Célestin casually opens rifts in the air behind them, sucking them into a chaotic vortex of time and space, their roars cut short as they vanish into the void.
That’s “Time Reaver,” also one of Célestin’s spells. The spell channels the energy of time itself to create a vortex that pulls enemies into a localized time rift. Within this rift, time flows erratically, causing severe physical and mental distress as the victims experience rapid shifts between the past and future.
The way he dispatches the monsters, with barely a hint of strain, is almost mesmerizing. It’s like watching a master at work—precise, efficient, and devastatingly powerful.
Having the overpowered protagonist protect you is the best feeling ever.
But then—
-Caw!
A harsh, guttural sound echoes through the air, shivering my spine. My instincts flare in warning, a sense of foreboding settling deep in my gut. Something is wrong—terribly wrong. I tilt my head up, squinting through the thick smoke and ash blanketing the sky, only to see an enormous shadow spreading across the already darkened heavens.
A flock of crows—hundreds, no, thousands—swarm above us. They’re so dense, their wings blending into a swirling black mass that blots out the stormy sky, casting the world below into an even deeper shadow.
Arthur comes to a halt, his arms trembling slightly as he carry me. I can feel the unspoken fear radiating off him, mingling with my dread.
Violette also stops, her expression turning pale as she gazes up at the ominous spectacle.
"T-that’s… a lot of Mana…” she mutters, barely louder than a breath.
A lot of Mana? How much? As a Manaless, I can't sense it, but I can see the raw terror in her eyes.
Célestin, usually so confident, has gone rigid. His gaze remains fixed on the dark clouds of birds above us, and I see a shadow of doubt on his face for the first time.
“Celestin,” Violette says, trembling, “can you handle that? It feels like—”
“No.” Célestin’s reply is curt, cutting through her question. He shakes his head, his expression uncharacteristically grim. “Whoever’s controlling those crows… they’re [S] Rank at least. I’m not equipped for that right now.”
[S] Rank?! The word sends a jolt of terror through my chest. That’s far beyond anything we can deal with. If even Célestin, with all his overpowered abilities, admits he can’t handle this, then we’re in serious trouble.
“We need to get out—”
-Caw! Caw! Caw! Caw!
The chorus of caws erupts, drowning out my words. The flock of crows swoops down from the sky like a dark, twisting tornado, spiraling toward the ground before us. The air whips around us as their wings beat furiously, stirring up dust and ash in a choking storm.
Arthur shifts his stance, holding me tighter, while Violette raises her hands defensively, preparing for whatever comes next.
Célestin’s expression hardens, his hands glowing with temporal energy, but even he seems unsure what to do against such a massive, concentrated force.
The whirlwind of crows finally settles, and the birds scatter, clearing a space in their wake. Where the dark tornado had touched down, a lone figure now stands, shrouded in a pale, tattered cloak. A long, hooded robe trails behind them, and a golden skull mask obscures their face, its eye sockets glowing with an evil light.
An aura of pure menace rolls off the figure, twisting the air around them with palpable malice. The shadows seem to bend toward them, drawn to their presence like moths to a flame.
A chill claws its way down my spine, and I feel my breath hitch in my throat. That golden skull—there’s no mistaking it.
A member of Umbrascourge has found us.
The figure steps forward, the eye sockets of the golden skull mask staring straight at me. A cold and unyielding shiver runs through me as if Death has turned its gaze in my direction.
Arthur’s grip tightens, and I feel his body coiled like a spring, ready to run. I glance up at him, seeing the fear in his eyes—the same fear I’m sure is reflected in mine.
"Théodore Blackwell," the figure introduces himself with a mocking bow. "One of the generals of the Umbrascourge, I'm here to kill Célestin Moreau and... you, Dominic."
His words freeze the blood in my veins. I knew that the Umbrascourge would appear eventually, but why would they want to kill me, a mere extra? In the web novel, Dominic Eñeforte never even appeared, someone who would not catch the attention of an organization as powerful and dangerous as Umbrascourge.
"What?!" I blurt out, my voice barely audible over my heart pounding. "Why me? I'm not even—"
But before I can finish, Célestin steps forward, his expression serious, eyes narrowed at Théodore.
"Listen up," he says, directing his words toward Arthur, Violette, and me. "I’ll hold this guy off. All of you need to run now. Get to the evacuation center.”
Arthur's grip on me tightens. "No way! You're strong, but taking on a [S] Rank alone—"
"We don’t have time for this, Arthur!" Célestin snaps, his voice laced with urgency. "I’ll be fine, but if you don’t get out of here, he’ll kill all of you. Just go!"
Arthur hesitates, clearly torn, but the severity of the situation is undeniable.
Violette grabs his shoulder; her voice is cold and focused. "He's right, we need to get moving. I'll lead the way."
Théodore lets out a low, sinister chuckle. "You think I’ll let them escape?" He raises his hand, dark energy swirling around it, readying a spell. "None of you are leaving this place alive."
Before he can unleash his attack, Célestin moves, casting a rift in the air with a precise hand slash. The rift warps time and space, pulling at Théodore’s energy and momentarily disrupting his spell.
"Not on my watch," Célestin says, his tone unwavering.
Théodore’s eyes flash with fury behind his mask, and he lunges forward, his shadowy blade meeting Célestin’s temporal defenses with a crash that shakes the ground beneath us. The air around them distorts as their spells collide, each strike sending ripples through reality.
"Go! Now!" Célestin shouts, not taking his eyes off Théodore as their battle intensifies.
Arthur grits his teeth, finally conceding to Célestin's plan. "Let’s go, Doms. Hang on tight." With Violette leading the way, Arthur carries me through the debris-strewn streets, the unconscious Lumi floating beside us on the flowerbed crafted by Violette's spell.
As we flee, I glance back at Célestin, who fights fiercely, time-warped strikes meeting Théodore’s shadowy attacks. Despite his confidence, I can't shake the feeling of dread. How did everything go so wrong?
════⋆★⋆════
As the others disappear into the distance, the town square echoes with tension, leaving only Célestin and Théodore face-to-face. The sky darkens further as the crows that Théodore summons circle above, casting eerie shadows on the cobblestone streets.
Célestin takes a deep breath, feeling the strain of his earlier spells pulling at his dwindling Mana reserves. His usual expression of ease has been a mask—he maintained it to keep Dominic from worrying, but now the truth is undeniable. His [C+] rank, strong for his age, can’t hide the fatigue settling deep in his bones. The battle ahead will push him to his limits.
"You... Moreau," Théodore hisses, his voice dripping with venom as his eyes burn with fury. "Do you know how many lives your family’s company has destroyed?"
Célestin stands still, his sharp, light blue eyes focused on Théodore’s crows. "I know," he admits quietly, his voice tinged with guilt. "I know what my family did. The exploitation, the greed, the way they used Aether at the expense of innocent people."
Théodore’s expression twists with rage. "And you did nothing?! You stood by while people suffered under your family's corruption!" With a wave, he mutters, "Murder’s Embrace."
The air fills with the sound of fluttering wings as a swarm of crows lunges toward Célestin, their beaks and talons gleaming with lethal intent.
"Stasis Field!"
Célestin’s voice is barely a whisper, but his spell activates, creating a shimmering blue bubble around him. The crows freeze mid-air, and their deadly momentum halts. But Célestin winces—he feels his Mana reserves dipping lower. He is running out of time.
Théodore’s eyes blaze with fury, refusing to relent. "That’s it? That’s all you can do?" He raises his hand, black energy swirling around it. "Talons of the Reaper!"
A massive crow with glowing red eyes materializes above him, its talons radiating dark energy as it dives toward Célestin.
With a desperate gasp, Célestin leaps backward, avoiding the direct strike. But the sheer force of the attack shatters his Stasis Field, sending him stumbling.
Before he can recover, Théodore is already upon him. "You’re weak, Célestin!" he shouts, driving his knee into Célestin’s stomach.
“Khh!”
The impact knocks the wind out of Célestin’s lungs, and he collapses to the ground, gasping for air.
"You had everything—power, wealth, influence—and you did nothing to stop the horrors your family committed!" Théodore growls, kicking Célestin repeatedly. Each blow drives home his fury, and Célestin can barely lift his arms to defend himself.
"I... I didn’t... have control... over them..." Célestin gasps between kicks, trying to catch his breath. "It’s not... my fault..."
Théodore sneers, his anger boiling over. "You expect me to believe that? You’re complicit, just like the rest of your family!"
He kicks Célestin again, sending him rolling across the cobblestone.
"People died! Children lost their parents; families were torn apart! All because of the greed of companies like yours!" His voice cracks with emotion, the weight of his past and suffering fueling his rage.
Célestin coughs, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. His body aches from the relentless assault, and he can feel his Mana nearly depleted.
"I... I tried to stop them... I tried to leave..." he mutters, barely audible. "But I couldn’t do anything..."
Théodore’s face twists with fury. He raises his hand, dark energy pooling around it, ready to deliver the final blow. "Then why? Why are you here, protecting that Manaless boy? What do you care about him?"
Through the pain, Célestin forces a weak smile. "It's because..." he begins, his voice husky, "this is not the first time it happened... you... me... fighting in this... town..." He struggles to stand, bloodied but defiant. "Time... Reaver!"
A small blue rift opens beside Célestin, its swirling energy glowing ominously. A black katana with golden dragon carvings slowly emerges from within, sending a chill through the air.
Théodore’s eyes widen. Even though he can’t sense Mana from the katana, his instincts scream at him to run. He quickly jumps back, putting distance between them.
"I... want to protect him... and... them... to end this cycle..." Célestin mutters, his grip tightening on the katana. "I'm sorry... but... in this time... I will not be your ally in this timeline... Théodore."
Théodore stands frozen, confusion mixing with the lingering rage that burns within him.
"What... what do you mean, 'not my ally in this timeline'?"
His voice, once filled with venom, now wavers with uncertainty. He has no idea what Célestin is talking about, and the weight of the situation presses down on him.
Célestin, barely able to stand, his body battered and bruised, slowly rises to his feet. He closes his sharp light blue eyes for a moment, breathing heavily as he steadies himself. The black katana, with its golden dragon carvings, hangs in his trembling hands. He raises it, pointing the blade toward Théodore.
Théodore’s eyes lock on the sword, but his body refuses to move. A cold sweat runs down his spine, his instincts screaming at him to run, to escape the situation unfolding before him. But he can’t. His feet are rooted to the ground, his body paralyzed by a deep, primal fear he can’t explain.
Célestin’s hands shake as he holds the katana out in front of him, the injuries he has endured clearly taking their toll. Blood drips down his arms, but he forces himself to focus.
"This... isn’t the first time, Théodore," he says, his words punctuated by ragged breaths. "You and I... we’ve fought before... in this town. But this time... it’s different."
Théodore’s heart pounds in his chest. He doesn’t understand why, but his instincts scream that something terrible is about to happen.
"What... are you talking about?" Théodore whispers, his voice barely audible, as if afraid that any louder sound might trigger whatever horror is about to be unleashed.
Célestin’s eyes flicker open, his gaze locking onto Théodore’s. His expression is sad, as though he has seen this play out too many times before.
"Time... isn’t what you think it is," Célestin says, his voice soft yet laced with a weight that makes Théodore’s heart sink further. "I’ve lived through this... this battle, this moment. And every time... the outcome is the same. You, me... fighting for things beyond our control."
The katana gleams in the dim light, but no Mana radiates from it. Yet, despite its lack of magical energy, Théodore’s instincts tell him that the danger lies in the sword itself.
Théodore clenches his fists, trying to shake off the paralyzing fear. But his legs refuse to move, and his mind races, desperately searching for an explanation for why he is so terrified.
"Why... why can’t I move?" he mutters, panic creeping into his voice. "What is this?"
Célestin’s gaze never wavers. "It’s fear, Théodore," he says quietly, his tone almost apologetic. "You feel it because deep down, your body knows... something terrible is about to happen. And no amount of magic, no amount of power can stop it. This time... I’m not your ally."
The words hit Théodore like a blow to the chest, and for the first time, he feels powerless. His anger and thirst for vengeance seem meaningless in this overwhelming, inexplicable dread.
Célestin steadies himself, gripping the black katana tightly as he faces Théodore. His body is battered, and his Mana reserves are nearly drained, but a steely resolve burns in his eyes. Raising the katana, he gathers the last remnants of his Mana, his voice barely a whisper yet filled with determination.
"Tiān Zhǎo!”
The air around him vibrates suddenly as his Mana flares, enveloping the katana in a faint, ethereal glow. Célestin’s form blurs as he moves, becoming a streak of light as he charges forward, the blade cutting through the air with the precision of a ticking clock.
Théodore stands frozen, his body unresponsive. The overwhelming dread that grips him holds his limbs like iron chains. His mind screams at him to move, defend, cast a spell—anything—but his body refuses to listen. He can only watch as Célestin closes the distance with terrifying speed.
Célestin’s strikes come like a storm, each slash leaving a trail of blue light. The first cut rips through the air, sending a shockwave that strikes Théodore’s chest. The next, and then another, each hit followed by a powerful shockwave that pummels Théodore’s body, slicing through his defenses.
"Ugh—"
Théodore grunts as each strike lands, blood spraying from the fresh wounds that appear all over his body. He staggers, unable to block or counter. His vision blurs, the world around him spinning as Célestin continues the onslaught, every slash more precise and relentless than the last.
The sound of each cut rings out like the clock ticking, methodical and unyielding, echoing through thedesolate streets. Théodore’s mind reels as the pain overtakes him, his knees buckling under the relentless assault.
With a final, resounding slash, Célestin completes the technique, skidding to a halt a few feet away from Théodore.
The air is still for a moment, but then blood begins to seep through Théodore’s clothes, staining the cobblestones beneath him.
He gasps for breath, his body crumpling to the ground, barely able to remain conscious. As his vision begins to darken, he struggles to focus on Célestin’s silhouette, standing tall and resolute despite his own injuries.
Blood trickles from Théodore’s lips as he struggles to cling to consciousness. His thoughts drift, slipping away from the present. His mind fills with the faces of his family and friends—those he has lost, the people he swore to avenge.
"I'm sorry..." he whispers to the memories of his loved ones, the realization settling heavily within him. He has failed them.
His revenge, his anger—none of it matters now. He can’t fight anymore. He has misjudged Célestin, and now, the weight of his past mistakes bears down on him like the wounds he can’t heal.
As darkness creeps upon his vision, Théodore’s last thoughts are a desperate wish that he could have seen them again and made things right. His breath slows, his world fading into a cold, quiet void.
Célestin collapses onto the cobblestones, struggling for breath as his exhausted body gives in. His Mana reserves are completely drained, leaving him barely enough strength to lift his head.
“Man, it’s a good thing I have Tiān Jué Lóng Rèn,” he mutters, managing a weak, weary grin.
The black katana clutched in his hand, Tiān Jué Lóng Rèn, is no ordinary weapon. It is a conceptual blade that thrives against powerful opponents, capable of delivering lethal strikes to any Magician or Manaficial ranked [A+] or higher. It can impose the concept of mortality even on beings that approach immortality, accelerating their aging until they wither away. Yet, the katana holds no Mana, relying entirely on Célestin’s dwindling reserves.
"Rahhh!"
A guttural roar echoes through the air, snapping Célestin from his thoughts. He glances around, eyes widening at the sight of a fresh wave of creatures—skeleton dragons and armored lion-beasts—emerging from the shadows. They surround him, their glowing eyes fixed on their prey.
“Crap...” he breathes, realizing that he has nothing left to fend them off. His body is too battered, his Mana depleted, and the creatures show no sign of slowing down.
“onrefnI tevelV kcalB.”
A deep, commanding voice reverberates through the air, and suddenly, beams of black magic streak across the battlefield. The beams pulse with dark energy, emitting a swarm of black moths that cling to the creatures. In an instant, the monstrous horde dissolves into shadows, vanishing without a trace.
Célestin lets out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, turning toward the source of the spell. Standing amidst the dissipating shadows is a tall man with striking red hair and piercing green eyes—Maurice.
‘Professor...’ Célestin thinks, relief washing over him as he recognizes the familiar presence. Even in this timeline, Maurice still brings him a sense of comfort he hadn’t realized he needed.
Maurice, still occupied with guiding frightened civilians to safety, spots Célestin surrounded by the hostile creatures and intervenes without hesitation. As he approaches, he studies the battered young man with a curious frown, a sense of déjà vu tugging at the edges of his mind.
“Hey, kid, are you okay?” Maurice asks, his tone both gentle and commanding.
Célestin nods slowly, offering a small, weary smile. “Yeah... Thanks to you, Professor.”
Maurice blinks, taken aback by the title. “Professor? Have we met before?”
Célestin shakes his head, still smiling faintly despite the pain. “No, but you give off that vibe. Like someone who always knows what to do.”
Maurice studies Célestin closely, the sense of familiarity nagging at him even as he can’t quite see where he might have seen the boy before. But for now, he lets the thought go, focusing instead on the urgency of the situation. The town is still in chaos, and there are more lives to save.
“Levitate.”
Without warning, Célestin feels the ground disappear beneath his feet, and he hovers in midair. His eyes widen in surprise.
“W-wait! Professo—”
Maurice can’t help but smirk. Normally, casting a simple levitation spell wouldn’t amuse him, but for some reason, seeing this kid’s reaction brings a flicker of playfulness to his expression. Yet, he quickly pushes that feeling aside. There are still creatures to deal with, and the town remains in danger.
“retnec noitaucave eht ot latrop A.”
A swirling red portal materializes beside them, its edges glowing with an otherworldly energy.
“Get some rest, kiddo,” Maurice instructs, his tone firm but gentle.
Célestin's eyes widen with urgency. “Wait, professor! My friends—Dominic, Arthur, Lumi, and Violette—are still making their way to the evacuation center!”
Maurice's expression shifts at the mention of the names, his eyes narrowing with a newfound intensity. Those names belong to his students.
“P-Professor, please save them!” Célestin’s voice cracks, and Maurice can feel the weight of that plea.
There is something raw, something deeper than simple concern for friends. It is as if this kid has experienced this nightmare too many times before.
‘Professor… please…’ Célestin thinks desperately. ‘I’ve experienced this scenario countless times... I don’t want to see him die again...’
Maurice’s eyes narrow slightly. The connection between Célestin and Dominic is obvious now. The kid is more than just a concerned friend—he is close to Dominic, maybe even closer than Arthur. It is a bond laced with something Maurice can’t quite place, but it is real, undeniable.
‘Arthur has competition,’ Maurice thinks briefly, amused despite the gravity of the situation.
But that flicker of amusement passes quickly. As Dominic, Arthur, and Lumi’s professor, it isn’t just a request for help—it is his responsibility. He can’t let them down. And even the Violette girl, though not his student, is under his protection.
“Don’t worry, I’ll save them,” Maurice says, calm and assured, though there is a hard edge of determination beneath it.
Without giving Célestin a chance to respond, Maurice waves his hand. The levitation spell kicks in again, lifting Célestin slightly higher.
“W-wait! Professor—”
But before Célestin can protest, Maurice grins and flicks his wrist, sending him flying toward the red portal. Célestin soars through the air, arms flailing, as the portal’s swirling energy draws closer.
“Get some rest, kiddo!” Maurice calls out, his voice tinged with both command and reassurance.
Célestin barely has time to register what is happening before the portal swallows him whole and transports him toward safety.
Maurice watches the portal close behind Célestin, the playful smirk returning briefly. But then his expression hardens. There is no more time for games. His students—and the others—are still out there, and it is up to him to save them.
════⋆★⋆════
Malignor sits on his grand, obsidian throne, the dark chamber around him illuminated only by the cold, dim glow of the floating mirror before him. His golden eyes, sharp and unblinking, are fixated on the scene unfolding within the glass—Célestin standing tall, bloodied but victorious, over Théodore’s crumpled form. The eerie silence in the chamber mirrors his disappointment, but there is no surprise. This outcome has been foretold, and it always ends the same.
“It seems Célestin killed him again in this timeline,” Malignor mutters, his voice a low, rumbling echo in the vast darkness. His expression remains unreadable, though a flicker of something—perhaps irritation, perhaps mild intrigue—passes through his gaze. “Not only that, he managed to get his hands on a conceptual weapon... This is surprising…”
He leans back against the throne’s cold surface, drumming his fingers rhythmically on the armrest. The mirror continues to show Célestin, his body slumped from exhaustion, wielding the powerful black katana, Tiān Jué Lóng Rèn. A conceptual weapon... The fact that Célestin has acquired such a tool complicates matters. That blade could change everything.
Malignor slowly rises to his feet, his long, dark robes flowing around him like living shadows. His hands begin to glow with a faint, ominous light—magic swirling in response to his silent command. The weight of the timeline’s failure is clear, but it is expected. This iteration of the cycle is never meant to succeed.
“It seems this is a failure,” Malignor murmurs, his tone devoid of frustration, as though this defeat is merely a piece of a larger, inevitable puzzle. His glowing hands move slowly, summoning dark energy tendrils around him. “I should command Luo Minghao and Bjorn to retreat before ‘she’ appears.”
His words linger in the air, heavy with the foreboding mention of a mysterious "she." Malignor’s eyes narrow, and with a single gesture, the mirror flickers and dissolves into darkness, the image of Célestin fading from sight.