“This way, quickly!”

Violette’s voice is sharp, but there’s a tremble in it. I can hear the exhaustion, knowing she’s barely holding it together. Arthur is carrying me, his arms tense, his steps heavy as we follow her lead. Lumi is still unconscious, hovering behind us in the strange flower helicopter Violette summoned earlier. It’s barely holding on, its petals wilting as it struggles to keep her afloat.

“Rahh!”

A sudden, guttural roar sends a chill down my spine. I glance around, and my stomach drops. We’re surrounded. A horde of skeletal creatures encircles us, their glowing eyes locking onto us like prey. Their twisted forms hover above the ground, staffs raised, ready to strike.

Everything feels like it’s caving in. Arthur and Violette are both running on fumes, their Mana nearly depleted. Lumi is still out cold, and I am barely able to stay conscious, every breath burning in my chest. This situation is bad. Really bad.

“Raahhhh!”

Three creatures suddenly break away from the swarm and fly straight for us. Their staffs glimmer with dark energy, poised to tear us apart.

“Avalon’s Blast!”

Arthur’s voice cuts through the panic, summoning beams of radiant light that tear through the air, crackling with energy. The golden streaks leave a glowing trail as they soar toward the creatures.

Two move impossibly fast, twisting out of the way just before the beams strike, but the third one isn’t so lucky. The light slams into its arm, and in a burst of radiant energy, the limb disintegrates into nothing but charred bone. The creature screeches, but even without its arm, it keeps coming. They regroup, more determined than before, their staffs aimed right at us.

Arthur grits his teeth, his arms tightening around me, bracing for the attack. But I can’t just sit here. I refuse to be helpless. My whole body screams to stop and stay down, but I won’t. My hand trembles as I lift my gun and aim it at the incoming skeletons.

—Bang! Bang!

The bullets hit their marks, but it’s useless. The shots just ricochet off their enchanted armor with a dull clink. The creatures don’t even flinch; their advance is unstoppable. My heart sinks.

“I can’t do anything…” The frustration burns through me. I feel worthless. I want to help but am stuck, broken, and useless.

“Petal Strike!”

Violette’s desperate and determined voice rings out. I look up just in time to see a swirling storm of razor-sharp petals flying through the air. The petals shimmer, beautiful and deadly, slicing through the skeletal creatures precisely.

“Rahh!”

The creatures screech, but more are coming. The ones we defeat are quickly replaced by more, and it feels like they’re endless.

I grit my teeth, clenching my fists.

“System… is there any way you can heal my body?” I mutter, pleading, hoping for a way out of this nightmare. I need to do something. I have to do something.

S̷̛̓͘ö̴́̈́͝r̸̈́͆̕r̷͊̽͊ẏ̷̛, I̵̽̇͌ c̸̈́̈͂-̵͆c̶͐͘̕.̷͛͗̚c̵̛̋̑a̴̅̑n̴͆͝͝’̴̃̓̕t̷̉̕…

The response flashes before my eyes, but it’s distorted, glitching. What the hell? The System has never done this before.

What the hell is going on!?

-Crack!

Suddenly, a sickening crack echoes through the air.

“Gah!”

Violette cries out in pain as one of the creatures smashes its staff into her head. She stumbles, blood trickling down her face. She’s barely hanging on, trying to defend Lumi, but the creatures are relentless. Arthur, too, is weakening, his knees buckling as one of the creatures strikes him down.

I fell from his grasp, hitting the ground hard. My guns clatter beside me, out of reach. I can barely move, my body screaming in protest as I try to push myself up.

“Doms!” Arthur shouts, his voice strained, but I can see him struggling just to hold on. Violette is fighting, too, her petals slicing through the air, but there are too many. It’s hopeless.

I’m useless. I can’t even stand.

“No… is this it?” My voice trembles as I mutter, feeling the weight of my failure press down on me. I almost died before… I don’t want to experience it again…

But it wasn’t just that. There was something more, something that gnawed at me. The promise—the promise the original Dominic had forced me to make. Even though it was forced on me, I still feel guilty. I can’t fulfill it. I can’t protect them. I am useless.

“Rahh!”

A creature lands beside me, its skeletal form towering over me. Its staff glows with dark energy as it raises it high, ready to strike. I can’t move. I close my eyes, bracing myself for the inevitable. This is it. This is how I go.

…

…

Nothing.

No pain. No strike. Nothing is happening. Confusion creeps in, and I slowly open my eyes.

I am no longer in the town's ruins. Instead, I find myself standing in a field of purple flowers. The petals sway gently in the breeze, and the sky above is a soft, light purple. Stars twinkle faintly in the daylight, and a dark, purple moon casts a gentle glow over everything.

Where… the hell am I?

“Greetings.”

A calm, feminine voice suddenly echoes through the peaceful field of flowers. My heart skips a beat, and I turn around quickly, my body still tense from the chaos I had just left behind.

Standing there is a woman—no, more like a vision. She has long, flowing amethyst hair that cascades down her back, glowing faintly in the soft light. Her dress is stunning—white and opulent, with an intricate, dark purple corset-like layer that accentuates her striking figure. Her dark purple eyes are cold and calculating, yet there is a faint smile tugging at her lips as she gazes at me.

I can’t help but stare. She is breathtaking.

Behind her, a massive castle looms, towering over the landscape like a giant monument. It is as enormous as Mount Fuji, its towering spires disappearing into the sky, casting a long shadow over the field. The architecture is unlike anything I have ever seen—both regal and otherworldly as if it doesn’t belong to this reality.

"You... who are you?" I stammer, barely whispering, still in awe of the sight before me.

The woman’s faint smile deepens as she takes a graceful step toward me. Each movement is fluid, almost like she glides over a field of flowers. Her presence is overwhelming yet calming, an aura of power and serenity wrapped in one.

As she draws closer, her dark purple eyes lock onto mine, and for a moment, I feel as though she can see right through me—like she already knows everything about me. My heart pounds, but not out of fear. Something about her, something ethereal and commanding, keeps me rooted.

"You must have many questions," she says softly, her voice like silk, each word dripping with an air of authority.

I swallow hard, still trying to comprehend everything around me. The chaos, the battle, the System glitching—and now this woman, standing before me like a goddess in a dream.

"Who... who are you?" I ask again, my voice trembling slightly.

Her smile widens just a little, her eyes glowing with ancient knowledge.

"I am Gaia," she says, her voice carrying the weight of ages. "The Celestial Paragon of Sylvestria."

════⋆★⋆════

“Floral Sanctuary!”

Violette’s voice is strained as she summons the last of her strength, casting a protective dome of intertwining flowering vines. The vines curl around them, forming a sturdy barrier. Their delicate flowers are deceptively beautiful as they shield the group from the skeletal creatures outside. The creatures snarl, their staffs pounding relentlessly against the dome, but they are safe inside for now.

Arthur and Violette huddle within, breathing heavily. Their Mana reserves are nearly depleted, and both are injured—cuts and bruises marring their skin, exhaustion evident in their eyes. Violette uses what little energy she has left to manipulate the vines already surrounding them. She’s lucky; the vines had been there when they collapsed into the dome, sparing her from expending too much Mana to create new ones. But even that slight advantage isn’t enough. They are running on fumes.

Lumi, no longer suspended by the flower helicopter, now lies on the ground, her unconscious form looking fragile amidst the chaos. Violette barely has enough Mana to keep the dome intact, let alone support Lumi.

“Hah… hah…” Arthur’s breath comes in short gasps, his body trembling with exhaustion as he glances around. “Doms, hang in—”

He stops mid-sentence, his eyes widening in sudden realization. Dominic isn’t there. He isn’t inside the dome with them.

Arthur’s heart races. Panic surges through him.

“D-Doms!” he shouts, his voice shaking as the memory of Dominic almost dying flashes in his mind. He had watched his friend get stabbed, watched him hover between life and death, and the thought of losing him again—of finding him too late—makes his chest tighten with fear.

Arthur shakily pushes himself to his feet, his legs trembling as he staggers toward the dome’s edge, his hands clawing at the vines.

“H-Hey! What are you doing!? These vines are protecting us!” Violette’s voice is sharp, surprised, and not impressed by Arthur's actions.

“Dominic is out there! I have to save him!” Arthur shouts back, his voice cracking with desperation as he pulls harder, ignoring the pain in his arms and the fact that his body is screaming for rest.

Suddenly, a soft groan echoes behind them. “Ngh!”

Lumi stirs, her eyelids fluttering open as she slowly wakes up. She blinks groggily, her body weak as she props herself up on her elbows, her eyes hazy with confusion.

“Where… are we?” Lumi’s voice is soft, barely above a whisper, as she looks around, trying to make sense of the chaos.

Arthur turns, his expression softening for just a moment. “Lumi…” he says, relief flooding his voice, though the panic for Dominic still gnaws at him.

Before he can say anything more, there’s a sharp sound—a splintering crack.

—Thwack!

A skeletal staff pierces through the vine dome from above, stabbing right through the protective barrier. The tip of the staff hovers inches from Arthur’s face.

Arthur freezes, his breath catching in his throat as the staff lingers in front of his eyes, mere moments from striking him down.

“Move!” Violette shouts, her voice filled with panic as the dome around them falters.

—Slash! Slash! Slash!

The vines of the protective dome tremble and split apart one by one as the creatures outside relentlessly hack away with their staffs. The dome, which had barely been holding up, collapses under the assault, leaving Arthur, Violette, and Lumi exposed to the swarm of skeletal creatures.

Arthur staggers back, his body nearly giving out from exhaustion, his Mana reserves completely drained. He barely has the strength to lift his arms, let alone summon another spell.

Equally spent, Violette stumbles to his side, her breath shallow and ragged. They have nothing left—no Mana, no strength, just desperation.

They exchange a quick, fearful glance. Their bodies scream for rest, but all they can muster now is fear as the creatures close in.

“Frostguard Phalanx!” Suddenly, Lumi’s voice rings out, sharp and commanding.

A surge of energy fills the air as Lumi raises her hands. Despite being unconscious for so long, she has managed to regenerate some of her Mana. Instantly, a dozen ice knights materialize around them, their forms glinting in the dim light. Each knight wields a massive claymore made of ice, and without hesitation, they launch into battle, clashing with the skeletal creatures.

Arthur and Violette released a breath they hadn’t realized they were holding. Relief washes over their exhausted faces as the ice knights create a reprieve from the relentless assault.

“Lumi…” Arthur gasps, his voice filled with gratitude, while Violette nods, her eyes reflecting a brief moment of hope.

Just as they begin to regroup, the situation worsens in an instant.

“Rahhh!!”

The ground shakes violently as three enormous, two-headed skeletal dragons appear before them, their wings beating furiously as they land with a thunderous crash. Their hollow eyes glow with a menacing red light, their presence suffocating. The air around them hums with power, and Lumi’s senses immediately kick in. She can feel the pressure of their Mana, each one emitting the terrifying aura of a [B] Rank Magician.

Arthur’s heart sinks. “This just got so much worse…” he mutters, fear creeping into his voice as he staggers back.

Violette’s face goes pale, her eyes wide with panic. They are already at their limit and are now facing three [B] Ranked dragons. There is no way they can survive this.

Lumi, her voice trembling slightly, quickly assesses the situation. “They’re [B] Rank… we can’t handle them…”

Suddenly, a voice echoes from above, familiar and full of energy.

“!stsaltB elaWh eulB tniaG”

Arthur, Violette, and Lumi blink in confusion. Before they can even process what is happening, three massive blue whales come crashing down from the sky, flattening the dragons beneath their weight with a deafening boom.

The force of the impact shakes the ground, and in an instant, the once-terrifying dragons are reduced to nothing, their skeletal forms crushed under the impossibly large creatures.

Arthur, Lumi, and Violette stand there, dumbfounded, as they stare at the absurd scene before them.

“Wha…?” Violette’s mouth hangs open.

“Did… did whales just save us?” Arthur blinks, his mind unable to fully comprehend what has just happened.

Lumi, though exhausted, can’t help but smile a little, the relief so overwhelming that it almost feels ridiculous.

“Hey, you three okay?” a familiar voice calls out.

They turn to see Maurice flying above them, his arms crossed, a confident grin on his face. He floats down gently, his presence calming as he surveys the aftermath of his spell.

Arthur, Lumi, and Violette sigh heavily, feeling the crushing weight of the danger finally lift from their shoulders.

But before Arthur can fully enjoy the relief, his eyes widen as panic erupts.

“P-Professor! Dominic disappeared!”

Maurice’s expression shifts immediately, his eyes narrowing in concern as he touches down beside them.

“Disappeared? Tell m—”

—Boom!

A powerful shockwave rocks the ground beneath them, making everyone flinch. Maurice quickly scans the sky and locks his eyes onto two figures clashing violently mid-air: André and a muscular blond man, their swords colliding with ferocious power. Even from a distance, Maurice can sense the overwhelming [SS] Rank Mana coming from André’s opponent. The sheer force of their battle sends shockwaves rippling through the air.

Maurice's eyes narrow. ‘Is André going easy on him?’ he wonders.

He knows his ex-best friend all too well. André isn’t the type to hold back, especially when facing an opponent of such strength. Something is off. Why isn’t André unleashing his full power?

This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

But Maurice doesn’t have time to dwell on the thought.

“Rahh!”

The air is filled with a new threat. Fifty two-headed skeletal dragons suddenly appear on the horizon, roaring as they head straight for them. The creatures are massive, each radiating dangerous energy as they approach.

Maurice can easily handle them, but his priority now is ensuring the safety of Lumi, Arthur, and Violette. André can manage the fight he is in—Maurice has no doubt about that.

“All right, time to evacuate!” Maurice calls out, his tone brisk and commanding.

“But, Professor, Dominic—!” Arthur starts, his voice filled with panic.

“Levitate!”

Maurice cuts him off with a sharp command, and in an instant, Arthur is lifted off the ground, floating weightlessly in the air.

“Tell me everything in the evacuation center, Arthur,” Maurice says firmly, not leaving room for argument.

“A portal to the evacuation center!” With a quick gesture, he summons a portal.

A swirling red portal appears in front of them, its edges glowing ominously. Maurice pushes them all toward it without hesitation—Arthur, Lumi, and Violette. They are thrown into the portal one by one, disappearing into the crimson light.

Once they are safe, Maurice turns, his eyes flicking back to the sky where André is still locked in combat. He hovers momentarily, tension gripping his chest before he flies through the portal, leaving the chaotic battlefield behind.

════⋆★⋆════

-Clang! Clang!

André and Bjorn clash mid-air, their swords' force sending shockwaves rippling through the darkened sky.

André grips a dark shadow longsword, its edge crackling with dark energy, while Bjorn wields a massive claymore forged from lightning, sparking wildly with each swing. Their strikes come with brutal precision, each swing pushing against the other’s power, sending arcs of light and shadow crashing into the stormy air around them.

Bjorn’s smirk never falters as he swings his lightning-infused claymore in a wide arc. The sheer power behind the strike causes thunder to rumble across the battlefield.

"Let’s see what you’re made of, 'Death.'"

André’s longsword catches the blow, the shadowy tendrils along its edge pushing back against the lightning. But the force behind Bjorn’s swing sends André skidding through the air, his muscles straining to keep his grip.

-Clang!

As they break apart, Bjorn’s eyes gleam with a dangerous light. Without warning, he floods his body and sword with an overwhelming surge of Mana, enough to distort the air around him.

The claymore begins to glow brighter, crackling more violently with raw energy. His presence swells, exuding a level of power that makes the air tense.

André's sharp eyes widen as Bjorn swings down with renewed force, his claymore blazing with more energy than before. André barely raises his sword in time, but the impact sends a shockwave through his body, knocking him out of the air. He plummets toward the ground.

-Boom!

André crashes into the cobblestones below, the ground shattering beneath him as he rolls to a stop. A low grunt escapes his lips, his breath coming in ragged gasps. His body aches, sparks of residual lightning coursing through his limbs.

“Hah…hah…” André struggles to catch his breath, pushing himself to his knees.

Bjorn, still hovering in the air, laughs softly. “Oh? Running out of breath already?”

His voice is mocking, a predator playing with its prey. He remains airborne, his claymore spinning lazily in his grip, lightning still arcing along its edge.

The two have been fighting for ten minutes, and Bjorn’s excitement wanes. He had expected much more from someone carrying the title of ‘The Death,’ one of the few to ascend to [SS] Rank. But what he has encountered is disappointing. The power he feels from André is that of a mere [A+] Rank Magician, a shadow of the legend he had anticipated.

"You’re not what I expected," Bjorn sneers. "I thought you were holding back, but now I see this is it. You’re weak." He laughs cruelly, hovering just out of reach. “The so-called ‘Death’ isn’t living up to his reputation. You’ve been a disappointment, André.”

“Ngh…” André grunts as he forces himself to his feet, wincing from the shocks Bjorn’s attacks have inflicted on his body.

His Mana reserves are dangerously low, and his limbs feel heavy with exhaustion. He looks up at Bjorn’s towering figure in the sky, the weight of his powerlessness sinking in.

Then, a voice—a dark, sinister voice—whispers from the depths of his mind.

"Hey, weakling, do you want me to take over?"

André’s gaze shifts to his right hand, where a grotesque mouth with sharp, jagged teeth appears. Its grin is malicious, and its voice is deep and masculine, filled with dark promise. The mouth curls at the edges, leering at him, invisible to anyone but André.

André’s breath catches. He knows this voice all too well, the dark presence within him. At first glance, the voice seems to offer aid, but André knows the truth. Accepting its help means giving up control—to something far worse than his enemy.

"Shut up," André hisses under his breath, his voice barely audible as he clutches the hilt of his sword tighter.

He can’t let him take over. Not now.

Bjorn’s smirk widens, the crackle of lightning around his claymore growing louder.

"What’s the matter, André? Struggling to live up to your title? ‘The Death,’ they call you. Here you are, barely holding your own. What a joke."

André’s jaw clenches. In truth, he hates that title. ‘The Death’ doesn’t represent him. It represents “him”—the entity lurking within, the one he fears more than anyone else.

André isn’t truly [SS] Rank on his own. The only reason he holds that title, the only reason the world knows him as ‘The Death,’ is because of him. He is just a simple [A+] Ranked Magician without the entity, without that darkness lurking in him.

A fraud.

André was able to raid [S] Ranked Stargates and defeat their Alphas before because he managed to tap into the power of the entity residing within him. He could borrow its magical attribute by making brief contact with the entity’s soul, temporarily allowing him to wield powerful magic beyond his natural abilities.

Additionally, he wasn’t alone in these raids—his success was also due to the support of his guildmates from the 'Shadow Sentinents,' who fought alongside him, providing crucial backup in battle.

"This is all you are, isn’t it? Just a man pretending to be a monster. You don’t deserve that title."

The weight of Bjorn’s words settles heavily in André’s chest. He isn’t strong. He isn’t a legend. He is nothing without the power he refuses to unleash.

“Ngh!”

André’s body aches and his breath is labored. The mouth on his hand grins wider, the dark presence within him stirring, hungry to be released. André can feel the growing temptation to let go, to embrace the thing inside him and unleash the power that would save him.

But he won’t. Not again.

As Bjorn hovers in the sky, his smirk twisted with the anticipation of finishing André, a voice suddenly invades his mind.

"Bjorn, I command you to retreat."

Bjorn raises an eyebrow, mildly irritated by the interruption. "Why?" he replies, his tone laced with defiance.

"Theodore is dead, and she is coming."

Bjorn's eyes widen momentarily at the news of Théodore’s death. But he quickly dismisses it. Théodore has never been of much interest to him—mentally and physically weak, a disappointment in every sense. But at the mention of her, everything changes. The woman who strikes fear even into the heart of Malignor.

His pulse quickens, a dangerous thrill coursing through his veins at the thought of facing her in combat. His fingers tighten around the hilt of his lightning-infused claymore as the thought takes root.

Fight her? His heart races. Meeting her in battle fills him with an overwhelming sense of exhilaration. And Bjorn longs for nothing more than to test himself against someone of her caliber.

“I want to fight her…”

He grins, feeling the raw excitement surge through his body. It isn’t his task to fight her, of course. His mission is to gauge André’s strength, and he has already succeeded. André is a fraud, a weakling who pretends to be strong. But now, with this new threat looming, the thought of walking away leaves a sour taste in his mouth.

"I said retreat, Bjorn." Malignor’s voice is colder this time, dripping with the kind of authority not to be questioned.

But Bjorn’s smirk only widens. "No," he mutters under his breath, ignoring the command.

"You dare defy me?!" Malignor’s voice sharpens, filled with dark fury.

Bjorn chuckles, his hand gripping his claymore tighter. "I do. Let her come. I want to see what she’s made of."

The line goes silent. Malignor's threatening presence lingers, but Bjorn dismisses it with ease. He has his sights set on something far more enticing.

He turns his gaze back to André, struggling to his feet, gasping for breath. Bjorn’s grin deepens, the contempt in his eyes evident. He wants to eliminate this weakling before moving on to the real challenge.

"Time to finish this, André," Bjorn sneers, raising his hand toward the sky.

The air around him crackles with raw, violent energy as he gathers a colossal surge of Mana. The sky above responds, the dark clouds swirling ominously as if stirred by an unseen force. Lightning dances between them, the storm now raging with fury. Thunder booms, shaking the very foundations of the battlefield.

André grits his teeth, struggling to remain upright. The overwhelming amount of Mana Bjorn is channeling presses down on him like a massive weight. He can't even comprehend how much power is being summoned—beyond anything he has ever felt.

His vision blurs and his body weakens by the immense pressure. Each breath feels like a battle, his lungs burning as if suffocating under the weight of Bjorn's energy. He can feel his consciousness slipping away, the world around him fading into a fog of pain and exhaustion.

And then comes a malicious laugh from the depths of his right hand.

The mouth on André’s hand grins wider, its jagged teeth gleaming with wicked delight. "Look at you... so pathetic..." The voice oozes with mockery, dark and sinister. "You can barely stand. Let me take over. Let me show you how to wield true power once again."

"No..." André gasps, trying to resist, but his voice is weak, his will faltering as his vision dims.

The world around him collapses into darkness, and as his consciousness fades, something inside him shifts. The twisted presence in his right hand, the entity that lurks within him, begins to stir. André’s body goes limp, and “he” momentarily consumes his soul.

With André unconscious, the entity takes control.

Bjorn, high above, manipulates the storm with ruthless precision. A mountain-sized cloud, thick with thunder and lightning, twists violently under his command. It pulsates with the raw power of a [S] Rank Magician, ready to obliterate anything in its path. With a triumphant grin, Bjorn hurls the massive thundercloud down toward André, fully intending to crush him beneath its overwhelming force.

André's body stirs as the cloud descends, racing toward the ground. His eyes snap open but are no longer his gentle, calculating gaze. They glow a deep, menacing crimson.

The world looks different now. André—no, he—sees everything in black lines, like the very fabric of reality has been laid bare before him. His lips curl into a dark grin.

"Ah... this again."

His voice is no longer André’s. It is cold, filled with dark amusement. With a flick of his wrist, shadowy tendrils of Mana gather in his hand, forming a massive, ethereal scythe, its edge shimmering with lethal intent. Dark shadowy wings unfurl from his back, stretching wide as he launches into the sky with a single, powerful beat.

He flies toward the descending thundercloud, a twisted grin on his lips. As he approaches the cloud, he raises the shadowy scythe high and swiftly slashes through the air.

—Slash! Slash! Slash! Slash! Slash! Slash!

The scythe tears through the black lines that fill his vision, and in an instant, the massive thundercloud shatters into nothingness. The storm dissipates; the overwhelming force that Bjorn had summoned simply... vanishes like dust scattered by the wind.

Bjorn’s eyes widen in shock, disbelief etched across his face. One of his most powerful attacks, his thundercloud, has been reduced to nothing. But that isn’t what stuns him the most.

André—no, the entity now in control of his body—is radiating Mana of a [SS] Rank. The raw, dark power emanating from him sends chills through Bjorn, far surpassing anything he had felt from the weakling he’d been fighting just moments ago.

This isn’t André.

This is something far more terrifying.

"You…"

Bjorn growls, his voice low and filled with astonishment, but it quickly transforms into a twisted, maniacal grin. His eyes widen with exhilaration, and a wild, unsettling laugh escapes his lips. The sight of this dark entity now controlling André—the sheer surge of [SS] Rank Mana pouring off him—sends a thrill coursing through Bjorn’s entire being.

“So, you’ve finally shown yourself!” Bjorn shouts, his voice echoing with unbridled delight. Lightning crackles around him, the electric energy surging through the air as he lets his power rise to meet the dark, ominous aura of the entity before him. His grin widens, lips pulling back to reveal gleaming teeth. "I knew there was something more to you, André—or whoever you are now! This power—yes! This is what I came for!"

He grips his claymore tighter, the blade humming with electric energy, matching the dangerous, dark Mana now radiating from the being that has taken control of André. His heart races faster, his maniacal grin growing even more frantic as the air around them crackles with power.

"Yes!" he roars, his eyes gleaming with reckless excitement. "Give me everything you’ve got! Show me the monster you are! Let’s see who the real monster is!"

But he—the entity within André—only grins, his crimson eyes glowing with dark amusement. He still sees everything through those ominous black lines—the “Death Lines” that trace the world around him, including Bjorn’s body.

"Storm of the Axis!"

Bjorn’s voice booms like thunder as he unleashes his power to its full extent. Above him, a massive storm swirls into existence, thickening into a vortex of pure destruction. The storm’s dark clouds, imbued with [SS] Ranked Mana, churn violently, their sharp winds howling with an intensity that could slice through Diamonds.

Bolts of lightning crackle within the storm, each capable of delivering a billion volts of raw electric force, capable of vaporizing anything in its path. The storm is no ordinary spell—this tempest is powerful enough to annihilate entire continents, leaving devastation.

With a flick of his hand, Bjorn manipulates the monstrous storm toward André, his grin widening as he imagines the dark entity being torn apart by the chaotic forces of wind, lightning, and destruction. The air trembles beneath the weight of the approaching cataclysm, the sheer power of the storm warping the sky itself.

But he—the being controlling André—does not flinch. As the colossal storm bears down on him, he stays still, his crimson eyes glowing with dark amusement. The black lines—the Death Lines—flicker in his vision, stretching across the storm. He can see them tracing the lightning bolts, the winds, the clouds—everything has its vulnerability, even something as colossal as this.

He smirks as he raises the weapon, positioning himself as if to slice the very air before him.

—Slash! Slash! Slash! Slash! Slash! Slash!

He cuts through the Death Lines with his scythe in a motion blur. Once surging with devastating power, the lightning disintegrates before reaching him. The winds, sharp enough to slice through mountains, dissipate like smoke. The storm, this cataclysmic force of destruction capable of wiping a continent from existence, unravels with each stroke of his blade, reduced to nothing.

Bjorn’s eyes widen in sheer disbelief. His chest tightens, and the world seems to slow around him momentarily. His spell, his ultimate attack—capable of obliterating entire continents—has just been sliced apart as though it were nothing but fragile glass.

"This isn’t possible..." Bjorn mutters, his voice trembling.

The entity within André lowers his scythe, his smirk never faltering. "You're surprised, aren’t you?" he says, his voice low and calm. "You think death is something that only applies to living beings, don’t you? Mortals, immortals—it doesn’t matter. I can deliver death to concepts, forces of nature, and anything within this world or beyond. You’ve seen it yourself—I cut the very essence of your storm."

Bjorn’s blood runs cold. For the first time, he feels something he has never known before: fear.

In his entire life, Bjorn has sought one thing—powerful opponents, worthy adversaries.

He has trained relentlessly, pushing his body and Mana to the limits, all in pursuit of the ultimate battle. He has climbed the ranks, becoming a [SS] Ranked Magician, confident that no one could challenge him. But now, faced with this entity, a being who could slice through the very concept of death itself, Bjorn’s hunger for combat falters. For the first time, he questions whether he is strong enough.

But fear isn’t enough to quell his thirst for battle. His grin returns, though it is tinged with desperation.

"Fine… If that’s how it is, I’ll meet you with everything I have!"

Bjorn mutters under his breath, his voice filled with enthusiasm as he calls upon every last drop of his Mana. His electric claymore crackles with newfound energy, its glow intensifying to a blinding white.

The blade surges with power, reaching an unprecedented level. Lightning arcs from its edges, now capable of delivering 1 trillion volts of energy. The sheer force of it distorts the air around him, the storm clouds above flickering with remnants of the storm he had conjured.

With a roar, Bjorn flies forward, his claymore raised high as he swings toward André with all his might.

But the entity within André doesn’t flinch. He smirks, his eyes gleaming with cruel satisfaction. As Bjorn closes in, the entity’s movements are fluid and precise. He raises his scythe, its shadowy form brimming with dark power.

—Slash.

In an instant, the battle is decided. The scythe cuts through the air, clean and swift, slicing through the Death Lines that dance across Bjorn’s body.

Bjorn’s eyes widen in shock as his momentum falters. He gasps, his claymore slipping from his grip, the energy in his weapon dissipating into the air. A sharp pain sears through him, but it isn’t physical—it is something deeper. He can feel the concept of death itself claiming him, cutting through his very existence.

With one final, stunned look, Bjorn’s body collapses mid-air, falling toward the earth below, lifeless.

The entity controlling André hovers in the air, his dark wings spread wide, watching Bjorn’s body disappear. His crimson eyes flicker for a moment before his smirk returns.

"It’s over."

"Rah!!!!"

The sudden roar echoes through the sky. He turns sharply, his crimson eyes locking onto three massive two-headed dragons hurtling toward him, their snarls cutting through the air as they barrel closer.

“Tch, annoying pests,” he mutters, his voice dripping with disdain.

With a single beat of his shadowy wings, he flies toward the dragons, his speed blurring him into a streak of darkness. In the blink of an eye, he is upon them. His scythe gleams as he raises it, his eyes scanning the beasts, and in his vision, the black lines—their Death Lines—flicker clearly.

—Slash! Slash! Slash!

He slices through the Death Lines with deadly precision in a flurry of motion. The dragons don’t even have time to react. Their massive bodies convulse mid-air before collapsing, lifeless, their once fearsome forms crashing toward the ground like broken marionettes.

He hovers there momentarily, his crimson eyes shifting to the horizon. A grin slowly spreads across his face as his gaze falls upon the sight of the destruction—the flames, the crumbling buildings, the distant screams of the survivors—stirs something dark within him. The chaos and carnage bring a sinister pleasure to his twisted soul. The town is in ruins, yet there is a sickening beauty. He grins wider, relishing the scene.

But the monsters from the massive [A] Ranked Stargate are unwelcome.

"These pests should die. Sylvestria is my world to conquer!" he declares, his voice filled with an unholy determination.

With a flick of his wings, he shoots forward, a dark blur against the stormy sky as he heads straight for the massive Stargate.

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As “André” soars through the Stargate and enters a realm unlike any he has encountered before. The skies are bathed in a radiant yellow light, casting a golden glow across the horizon. The air seems alive with energy, shimmering with the essence of ‘Light’ magic that saturates the atmosphere.

It feels like a celestial haven, untouched by corruption, serene, and almost divine in its beauty. Everything glows with a soft brilliance, from the golden clouds that float gently to the luminous fields below.

Hovering in the air, he—the entity within André—feels an unfamiliar sensation of tranquility, but it only fuels the smirk on his face. The air is thick with Light magic, oppressive and powerful, a force normally crushing anyone who wields Dark magic.

Yet, he is not just anyone.

The entity within André possesses a mastery and resilience far beyond that of normal Magicians. The realm's overwhelming brilliance only sharpens his senses, as the dark energy inside him thrives against the challenge.

The calm is short-lived.

"Rahh!"

A roar echoes across the radiant skies, and a massive swarm of creatures appears in the distance, hurtling toward him. There are 455 of them, each wielding long, menacing staffs, their wings slicing through the serene clouds like blades. Their twisted forms distort the perfection of the realm as they surge forward, intent on obliterating the intruder.

In his vision, every creature is lined with delicate blue threads, the Death Lines. They crisscross their bodies, marking where life can be severed.

A maniacal grin stretches across his face.

“HAHAHAHA! BRING IT ON!” he roars, his voice echoing through the golden expanse as he shoots forward faster than the speed of light, his dark scythe gleaming with lethal intent.

—Slash! Slash! Slash! Slash! Slash!

He moves with terrifying speed, slicing through the air and the creatures alike. His scythe dances, cleaving through them as though they are nothing more than wisps of air. Each strike severs the black lines he sees, obliterating the creatures with surgical precision.

The air fills with the brief sound of rending flesh before silence reclaims the realm. In mere seconds, all 455 creatures are cut in half, their lifeless bodies falling to the radiant clouds below, disintegrating into nothing.

André’s scythe hums in satisfaction as he hovers above the vanquished, his bloodlust far from sated. He continues flying through the Stargate realm, his wings carrying him effortlessly through the golden expanse. The divine energy that once pressed against him now bends to his will, the light dimming in his presence as his darkness expands.

His crimson eyes scan the landscape, searching for something more challenging. Something worthy of his newfound strength.

"Where’s the Alpha of this Stargate..." he mutters, his voice low and dangerous. His grip tightens on the scythe as he flies deeper into the realm.

As he soars through the golden skies, a colossal structure comes into view—a massive arena suspended atop an enormous cloud, dominating the skyline with its otherworldly presence. The arena pulses with ancient power, the air around it thick with the energy of eons past.

"That must be where the Alpha is," André mutters, his grin widening in anticipation. He angles his wings and descends toward the arena, landing with eerie precision at its center.

A deep, ominous rumble shakes the arena when his feet touch the ground.

—Rumble!

The air vibrates as the floor beneath him begins to quake violently. Cracks spiderweb across the ground, and with a deafening crack, the arena floor splits open, forcing André to leap back as a massive rift forms. From within that rift, something stirs.

A towering figure emerges—a creation of arcane engineering, a marvel of magic and machinery. Its humanoid torso is encased in an intricately designed armored bodice, a fusion of ornate baroque designs and sleek, modern mechanics. The armor gleams with gold accents, and vibrant gemstones embedded within it pulsate with energy, giving the figure a regal, almost divine, appearance.

Multiple mechanical limbs extend from its body, each resembling the segmented arms of an octopus. The metallic limbs glisten in golden light and are fitted with thrusters at the tips that suggest powerful and precise movements. Above the figure hovers a radiant golden halo, pulsating with an energy that bathes the entire arena in an ominous glow.

image [https://i.imgur.com/ED6WmN0.jpeg]

André tilts his head, meeting the glowing gaze of the mechanical colossus. His grin deepens, excitement coursing through him.

"There you are," he says, his voice dark and low, brimming with anticipation.

This is the Alpha of the Stargate—the one who had dared to tear open the fabric of the world, releasing its twisted hordes into his realm. The one who dares to invade the world he intends to conquer.