"He... disappeared, and the connection with him is gone..." Gaia murmurs, a hint of surprise flickering in her normally calm demeanor.
Dominic’s sudden disappearance is unexpected, yet she feels the faint traces of another presence—a subtle but powerful intervention.
"Someone must have intervened... it felt almost as if a weakened Paragon pulled him back to the ordinary realm of Sylvestria." Gaia’s voice is soft, her tone contemplative.
As a Celestial Paragon herself, few entities can disrupt her influence over Sylvestria. Only another Paragon, a being with similar celestial authority, could intervene on such a scale. And even then, the task would not be easy. For a Paragon from another world to pull Dominic out of her reach hints at something formidable.
"Why would a Celestial Paragon interfere?" she muses aloud, her eyes narrowing. "What is the purpose of bringing him back?"
She had intended to make him remember his path—the true depth of "Dominic’s" past. As the planet’s Paragon, she can access all experiences recorded within the "Aetherium."
The Aetherium is a metaphysical plane beyond reality's physical and conceptual layers, the fundamental source of all existence and phenomena. Within it lies the ultimate record of all events, knowledge, and possibilities across time and space. It serves as a boundless, all-encompassing repository of information—the underlying foundation of the universe itself. All that occurs, has occurred, or could potentially occur is stored within the Aetherium’s unfathomable depths.
"But how could a Paragon infiltrate Sylvestria without my notice?" she wonders, frustration barely edging her calm tone.
As the Celestial Paragon of Sylvestria, Gaia embodies not only the unique traits and essence of her world but also serves as its primary guardian, wielding unmatched power to protect it from external threats. This interference suggests a direct challenge to her authority over Sylvestria, a prospect that is far from acceptable.
"It appears I have an investigation ahead of me," she mutters, casting her gaze across her ethereal domain. "This outsider poses a threat to Sylvestria’s balance, one that must be neutralized."
Then, with a thoughtful look, she adds, “Though… another side of me might be more suitable for blending in while I investigate.”
A faint, almost mischievous glimmer appears in her eyes as she prepares to summon a different facet of her being.
═══ ⋆★⋆ ════
The forest is a makeshift refuge, with tents under the dense canopy and the constant hum of survival efforts filling the air. People huddle together, weary but resolute, as members of Les Arcanes Éternels move among them, offering support. Nearby, health workers from the town tend to the injured, their hands steady but their faces lined with exhaustion as they do what they can to ease the suffering around them.
Inside one of the larger tents, Arthur sits with fresh bandages wrapped around his wounds, the faint glow of healing magic lingering on his skin. Beside him sits Maurice, his presence a quiet but powerful comfort.
"So, that's how Dominic disappeared?" Maurice’s brow furrows as he processes Arthur's account. "Strange. And you’re saying there were no Mana traces at all?"
Arthur nods, frustration clear in his eyes. "Yeah, it just… happened without warning."
Maurice rubs his chin thoughtfully. "Perhaps… if I try creating a portal to him, I might be able to establish a link."
Arthur’s eyes light up, a surge of hope rising within him. "Please, Professor—if there's any chance, please try!"
Maurice nods, rising from his seat. He extends his right hand, focusing intently as he begins to channel Mana into his fingertips, the energy gathering in a soft, swirling glow. He closes his eyes, murmuring an incantation under his breath:
“!etrofene cimonid ot latrop A…” he commands, his words weaving the spell.
The air before him shimmers, a portal slowly forming in the space. But almost instantly, the portal flickers erratically, distorting as if some unseen force were tugging at it. Maurice’s Mana, too, wavers and becomes unstable, breaking the clean lines of his casting.
"What in Sylvestria…" Maurice mutters, the confusion evident in his voice.
He prides himself on his Spatial magic—he has trained rigorously for years, perfecting the skill to become a [SS] Ranked Magician. This interference is more than unusual; it directly challenges his abilities.
Arthur, watching with tense anticipation, feels unease creep up his spine. "Professor… what's wrong?"
Maurice withdraws his hand, the swirling Mana fading as he releases the spell. "I can’t create a portal," he admits, shaking his head. "Something’s blocking the connection, preventing me from reaching him.”
Arthur’s worry deepens, and he looks away, his gaze growing distant. Dominic is his best friend, despite the unspoken competition that sometimes simmers between them. And even though he often feels overshadowed by Dominic’s natural talents, the thought of losing him is a weight pressing against his heart.
Beyond that, Arthur wants to face Dominic, challenge him to prove himself and show Dominic that he can stand as his equal. The idea that Dominic might be lost somewhere, unreachable and possibly in danger, fills Arthur with a feeling he hadn’t expected—helplessness.
“Dominic… where are you?” he mutters.
The tent flap rustles, drawing Arthur and Maurice’s attention as a familiar figure steps inside. Arthur's heart tightens as he sees his father, Uther Lyon, standing tall with his gaze steady and unreadable.
“Father…” Arthur's voice is barely a whisper, thick with the weight of emotions he has been suppressing. He straightens himself on the cot, instinctively attempting to compose his tired form. But a gnawing shame twists in his stomach, rooting him in place.
He hadn’t wanted to see his father—not now. He is supposed to be training to become a Stargate Raider, a protector, an heir worthy of Les Arcanes Éternels. But today, he’s been overwhelmed, outmatched, and helpless in the face of true danger. The stark contrast between his aspirations and current state is suffocating, a deep cut to the pride his father has always expected him to uphold.
The anguish over Dominic's disappearance only compounds his shame. His best friend is missing, perhaps in grave danger, and he hasn’t been able to protect him. The shame is like a weight around his chest, pressing harder as he avoids his father’s eyes.
“Arthur…” Uther’s gaze softens as he glances briefly at Maurice, acknowledging him with a nod. “Monsieur Maurice.”
Maurice inclines his head, meeting Uther’s eyes with respect. “Greetings, Monsieur Uther. It’s an honor to meet you finally.”
“Indeed, it is,” Uther replies, his voice courteous but holding a quiet edge. “However, if you don’t mind, I would like a moment alone with my son.”
“I understand.” Maurice nods, placing a reassuring hand on Arthur’s shoulder. “Get well, Arthur,” he murmurs before leaving the tent, leaving father and son alone.
Arthur fixes his gaze on the floor, unwilling or unable to look his father in the eye. He feels smaller than he has in a long time, his shame tugging at him, filling the silence with self-doubt and regret.
Unexpectedly, Uther sits beside Arthur’s bed and asks, “Are you okay?”
The question is simple yet laced with an unfamiliar softness.
“Yeah…” Arthur replies, his voice barely above a whisper.
“…I’m glad…” Uther murmurs, and then, to Arthur’s astonishment, his father reaches out, placing a gentle hand on his head.
The warmth of his touch radiates through Arthur, who freezes wide-eyed. His father has never done this before or shown this side—a side that seems almost… relieved.
Arthur’s gaze darts to his father’s face, and he finds another surprise. Uther’s expression, typically stern and controlled, holds a rare gentleness, a look of relief that softens his features. For once, Uther looks less like the leader of Les Arcanes Éternels and more like a father genuinely relieved for his son’s safety.
“But…father…” Arthur’s voice cracks, the guilt and shame returning. “I failed… I couldn’t protect Dominic… and I was overwhelmed…”
Uther’s calm gaze never falters. “The Stargate was [A] Rank—beyond what you’ve been trained to face.” He pauses, his voice steady but kind. “But you stood against it anyway. You tried your best to help people despite being outmatched. That bravery… is a trait that defines the Lyon family.”
Arthur blinks, momentarily speechless. His father’s words, unexpected and sincere, wash over him. Uther has always been a figure of high expectations, someone Arthur looks up to but can never fully please. Hearing such reassurance and knowing that his father recognizes his efforts, even in failure, is humbling and comforting.
“But… Doms… I didn’t protect him…” Arthur’s voice drops again, the guilt gnawing at him.
Uther’s expression shifts, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his face. “I have a feeling he’ll be fine. After all, he’s the son of that… Trash.”
Arthur flinches slightly, taken aback. It isn’t the first time he’s heard his father speak this way about André, but he still doesn’t fully understand the depth of his father’s disdain. Why does Uther harbor such hatred for Dominic’s father? It’s an unspoken resentment that puzzles him deeply.
Uther’s voice pulls him from his thoughts. “I hope this strength and determination will stay with you when you take the entrance exam at Verdant Arcanum, Arthur.”
Arthur nods, a faint smile breaking through his otherwise solemn expression. His father has never given him this level of encouragement or shown this much approval before. It feels like a small but powerful validation, a light in the heavy fog of shame and doubt.
“Yes, Father,” he replies, his voice steadier now, hope rekindling. “I will.”
════ ⋆★⋆ ════
As Maurice makes his way through the crowded evacuation center, he takes note of the people around him—some bandaged, others lying down, but all under the attentive care of the health workers and guild members brought in to help. Relief fills him, knowing they are receiving the care they need, yet a more pressing concern looms in his mind: the effect this devastation will have on the budget of the Eñeforte Territory.
The recent attack has ravaged the town. Streets lie in ruin, buildings are gutted and need structural repairs. Shops that provide income to the territory are reduced to rubble, and the costs of immediate and long-term rebuilding will be astronomical. Despite the wealth the Eñeforte family once held, Maurice knows that André’s current financial situation is already strained, burdened with immense debt.
The Eñeforte family has been hemorrhaging funds for years, grappling with expenses from previous failed projects and ventures that hadn’t panned out. André has inherited not only the family’s status but also its financial struggles, struggles Maurice has become aware of despite being estranged from his old friend for nearly a decade.
“Professor!”
Maurice stops mid-thought and turns. Célestin, wrapped in bandages, is hurrying toward him, his expression somewhere between relief and determination as he pants to catch his breath.
‘Ah, perfect timing,’ Maurice thinks, a smirk tugging at his lips. He has planned on seeking Célestin out for answers, but it appears the boy has found him first.
“You keep calling me ‘Professor.’ Do I look that old?” Maurice teases, an amused glint in his eye.
Célestin grins, catching on to the lightheartedness. “Yeah, actually, you kind of do!”
Maurice chuckles, feeling something unusual—like a breath of fresh air. He’s only known Célestin briefly, yet he senses the ease of banter he hasn’t enjoyed in years. It’s oddly refreshing to be around someone who naturally brings out his playful side.
But as much as he enjoys it, there are more pressing matters to address.
“Anyway,” Maurice starts, letting the humor slip into the background, “I wanted to ask you: how exactly did you meet Dominic, Arthur, and Lumi?”
Maurice raises an eyebrow, examining Célestin’s reaction carefully.
Célestin Moreau, heir to Moreau Aether Mining Inc., doesn’t strike him as someone who would cross paths with heirs from Verdant Haven’s two major Stargate Raiding guilds or the son of a small-town mayor like Dominic.
The worlds they occupy are starkly different, with little reason to overlap. Sure, Lumi and Arthur are prominent within Verdant Haven, and Dominic is a public figure of sorts within the Golden Fields Region. Still, Maurice can’t easily imagine the connections that would lead them to Célestin.
Not that he is suspicious, exactly—just…curious. Célestin’s way of calling him “Professor” has also caught his attention. The boy has said it’s simply because he “looks the part,” yet Maurice senses a familiarity beyond what one might expect. And oddly enough, Maurice has no memory of meeting him before. If he had, he would have remembered, given his sharp memory.
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Célestin gulps but holds his composure. He has done this dance before, carefully navigating Maurice’s curiosity and quick intellect. “I met them through social media,” he explains, keeping his tone casual.
“We’ve been chatting for a while. We got to know each other that way.”
“Hmm…” Maurice mutters, nodding thoughtfully, but his unreadable gaze stays fixed on Célestin.
‘Maybe I should read his mind,’ Maurice thinks, a plan forming.
Extending his hand toward Célestin’s hair, he moves with the pretense of ruffling it. He could glimpse into the boy’s mind with minimal effort if he makes contact.
But Célestin, sensing his intentions, instinctively backs away with a grin. “Professor, please, don’t ruffle my hair! I used expensive shampoo!” he protests, his tone lighthearted.
Maurice chuckles, withdrawing his hand. Célestin’s quick response only adds to the mystery.
‘Well, that didn’t go as planned…’ Maurice muses to himself, feeling the sting of his failed attempt to read Célestin’s thoughts. He will just have to wait for another opportunity.
Célestin, meanwhile, exhales quietly, a silent sigh of relief. While he trusts Maurice more than most, there are things only he and “Dominic” could know. Maurice, sharp as ever, will be a challenge to keep at bay.
-Thud!
Their silent contemplation is interrupted by a sudden, light thud. Célestin barely moves, but someone small has collided with him. The boy stumbles backward, wide-eyed, and lands on the ground with a surprised yelp.
Célestin looks down and sees a young boy with brown hair and eyes, who seems to be scrambling for the medical kits that have scattered around him—bandages, betadine, antiseptic wipes—all knocked loose when he’d collided with Célestin.
“Ouch…” the boy mutters, rubbing his shoulder.
Without hesitation, Célestin kneels down and extends his hand to the boy. “Here, let me help you,” he says gently, offering a reassuring smile.
The boy blinks in surprise before taking Célestin’s hand and pulling himself to his feet. Célestin kneels to pick up the scattered supplies, his movements careful.
“These are important, right? You should be more careful with them.”
The boy nods, cheeks flushing slightly. “Thanks... I was just in a hurry.”
Maurice, however, hasn’t taken his eyes off the boy. There is something eerily familiar about him that tugs at Maurice’s memories with a bittersweet pang. ‘He looks just like André…when we were kids.’
It stirs a nostalgia so strong Maurice can almost feel the years folding back on themselves, memories of laughter and adventure flashing before his mind. This boy’s resemblance to André is uncanny, almost as if he were looking at a younger version of his old friend.
Just then, the boy’s face brightens as he spots someone nearby. “Celine!” he calls out, his voice filled with joy.
Célestin and Maurice turn to see Celine approaching, her dark hair cascading softly over her shoulders and her familiar sky-blue eyes sparkling warmly.
‘Miss Celine… alive and well in this timeline.’ Célestin’s heart lifts at the sight of her, and a quiet happiness fills him as he watches her approach.
Celine’s smile broadens as she takes in Maurice, the boy, and the blue-haired young man with him. For some inexplicable reason, the sight of Célestin fills her with a gentle sense of familiarity and comfort, as though he were someone close to her. Even though she has never met him, something about Célestin’s presence stirs within her a maternal warmth—almost as if she were looking upon a second son.
“Celine,” Maurice greets warmly.
Celine’s face lights up. “Maurice, it’s been quite a while.”
“It certainly has,” Maurice replies with a nod, a smile creeping onto his face.
“Celine! I brought everything you asked for!” The boy grins as he hands over the medical supplies.
Celine accepts them with a grateful smile, ruffling Clark’s hair in thanks. “Thank you, Clark. You’ve been a huge help today.”
‘So, he’s Clark,’ Maurice and Célestin note internally.
Célestin’s gaze lingers, puzzled. ‘Who is this kid?’ he wonders.
He hasn’t encountered anyone like him in previous timelines. Could he be Dominic’s brother? But no…that doesn’t make sense. Dominic never had a sibling, and the timelines have never hinted at one.
Maurice, too, watches Clark closely, his thoughts racing. ‘Is he related to Dominic…possibly a brother?’
Clark’s resemblance to André is unmistakable—the hair and eye color and the facial features are almost identical. The way his expressions shift, his mannerisms… It’s like looking at a younger André. And while Dominic takes after Celine, Clark looks every bit André’s son, as though the family’s genetic legacy has been split between the two.
Yet Clark addresses Celine by her first name rather than calling her "Mum," casting doubt on any familial connection.
Celine looks at Célestin and extends a hand, an inexplicable warmth sparking in her eyes. She smiles gently, her expression both curious and somehow… familiar, as though she’s known him for far longer than just this encounter.
“Hey there, I’m Celine Eñeforte. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
Célestin shakes her hand, a slight hesitation in his grip. “Célestin Moreau…nice to meet you, Mrs. Eñeforte.”
Inwardly, Célestin’s heart clenches; he has met her countless times in countless timelines, treating her as a second mother. But in this timeline, her looking at him as a stranger and calling her by her first name feels wrong. He keeps a respectful distance, yet the warmth in her gaze is unmistakably the same as he remembers.
“Mrs. Eñeforte! We need more beds for the injured!” a local healer calls out, her voice laced with urgency.
Celine turns, gesturing to a stack of cots nearby. “They’re in the corner over there!” she directs calmly yet efficiently.
Célestin’s gaze lingers on her, admiration is evident in his eyes. ‘She’s always like this,’ he thinks.
In every timeline, she’s the same. Caring, devoted, selflessly putting others first, even in the face of the worst tragedies.
Maurice smiles as he watches her work. “I see you’re as dedicated as ever, Celine,” he says, a glint of respect in his tone.
“Thank you, Maurice. I became more resilient when I gave birth to… Dominic,” she replies, her voice softening, a hint of sadness shading her words.
Maurice and Célestin exchange a knowing look. They understand the quiet anguish beneath her strength; Dominic, is still missing, and there has been no word from André since he went off to find him amid the Stargate attack. Celine is holding out hope but worry and deep lines of exhaustion on her face.
‘Should I tell her?’ Maurice thinks.
He hesitates, glancing at her with an uncertain expression. Arthur shares his concerns about Dominic’s disappearance, and Maurice sees André fighting a Magician emitting [SS] Rank amounts of Mana. She deserves to know the truth, but he braces himself for her reaction.
“About Dominic…Arthur told me he vanished during the attack,” Maurice begins, his voice gentle but firm.
Celine’s face pales, her gaze snapping up to meet his. “D-Disappeared? How?” Her voice is barely a whisper, the shock and fear in her eyes unmistakable.
“Arthur said that as he carried Dominic toward the evacuation center, monsters attacked them, and Dominic just…vanished. No trace of Mana was left behind,” Maurice explains, his heart heavy with the revelation.
Celine’s shoulders sag, her gaze dropping as she processes the news. “…I see…”
“André, what about him?” she asks after a pause, her voice barely steady.
Maurice looks down, regret clouding his expression. “The last time I saw him, he was locked in battle with an [SS] Ranked Magician… I’m sorry, Celine. I wanted to help him but had to focus on evacuating the citizens.”
Celine’s lips tremble slightly, her hands clenching as she looks down, taking a moment to steady herself. She meets Maurice’s gaze. “It’s alright, Maurice. You were doing what you had to for the people. André wouldn’t want you to feel guilty for that. He…he can take care of himself.”
Maurice feels a pang of gratitude and deep respect for her quiet strength. “Thank you, Celine.”
Suddenly, Maurice feels someone tugging his sleeve; he looks down and sees Clark looking up at him, his expression both hopeful and worried.
“Excuse me… Mister Magician, is Big Brother going to be okay?” Clark’s voice is small but filled with an innocence that tugs at Maurice’s heart. He doesn’t fully understand everything happening, but Dominic’s absence leaves him feeling sad and concerned.
Maurice and Célestin have the same thought: ‘Big brother?’
Célestin's mind races. ‘Wait, when does Dominic have a brother in this timeline?’ He studies Clark closely, noting the resemblance that Clark bears to André. ‘Perhaps this time, it’s different.’
Maurice, too, ponders the situation. If Clark is Dominic’s brother, why would he call Celine by her first name? But he keeps his thoughts to himself, knowing there is no need to share his confusion with the boy. Instead, he turns his focus to reassuring him.
Maurice kneels down, meeting Clark’s gaze directly. “Yes, Clark. Your big brother is going to be just fine. In fact, he’s going to come back stronger than ever.”
Clark’s eyes widen with a glimmer of hope. “R-Really?”
Maurice nods, his smile warm and confident. “Absolutely. Believe in your big brother. He’s going to be alright, Mini André.”
Clark’s face lights up with a shy smile, his confusion at the nickname momentarily forgotten as he beams at Maurice’s reassurance. If this powerful “Magic Man” believes in Dominic, Clark will, too.
Célestin’s gaze drops and his shoulders slump as he softly murmurs, “Domy…”
The nickname slips out, broken and heavy, with memories of countless resets, battles, and burdens. It was a cheerful name once, a reminder of better days, but now, it feels like a fading echo, growing fainter with each reset.
Just then, a shadow falls over him. Célestin looks up, and his eyes widen as he sees Dominic plummeting from above.
“Dom—!” he begins, but before he can finish, Dominic crashes into him, knocking them both to the ground.
Célestin gasps as Dominic lands on top of him, their faces inches apart, close enough to feel each other’s breath. A wave of relief washes over Célestin as he looks at Dominic’s unconscious face.
“Domy…” he whispers, the weight of his emotions spilling over as he pulls Dominic into a tight embrace. All the resets, the losses, the pain—he holds onto Dominic as if letting go would mean losing him again.
“Big Brother!” Clark hurries over, his small hands reaching out toward Dominic.
Maurice and Celine look up, their expressions shifting from shock to relief.
“Dominic…” Celine murmurs, immediately rushing over. Her hands tremble as she examines his face, her heart sinking at the sight of the cuts and bruises marking his skin. “I have to treat him—he’s injured.”
Célestin nods, carefully adjusting Dominic’s weight before lifting him with gentle hands. Every movement is tender like he’s holding something precious that might shatter at the slightest touch.
Suddenly, someone nearby shouts, “Hey, look! The Stargate is gone!”
They all turn toward where the enormous Stargate was moments ago, only to see an empty sky. It’s as if the chaos that engulfed the town has vanished without a trace.
“Ah, so that’s why I no longer feel [A] Ranked Mana,” Maurice mutters, smirking as he pieces it together.
The only one he can imagine easily destroying that [A] Ranked Stargate is André. Knowing André, the [SS] Ranked Magician Maurice had last seen him facing must have been taken down, too.
“What a showoff,” he mutters, though a trace of pride warms his voice. But, unknown to him, he was unaware of André’s problem.
Celine’s face shows relief and worry, concern clouding her gaze. She knows the risks André faces, and her thoughts stray toward the darker possibilities of the entity within him resurfacing.
Célestin, on the other hand, is tense, a heavy worry clouding his expression. “Here we go again…” he whispers under his breath.
He had already seen this before, which twists painfully close to the familiar nightmare of previous timelines. The same scene, the same relentless tragedy: Arthur’s, Lumi’s, and the residents’ deaths all over again.
Célestin understands the threat all too well—the entity within André. It was that entity that had slaughtered them time and time again.
But amid his worry, a flicker of hope glimmers.
He looks at Maurice, who stands quietly smiling, unshaken by the chaos.
“Professor…” Célestin murmurs thoughtfully.
Maurice’s presence is a variable, an unexpected advantage. He hasn’t been here in the previous timelines, but thanks to Célestin’s intervention—hijacking Maurice’s job application—Maurice is now part of the staff at Académie d’Eñeforte. Maurice’s presence is a potential game-changer, a silver lining in an otherwise dark path.
And this time, perhaps, things will finally be different.
-Wham!
André lands hard, his knees pressing into the earth as the ground cracks under the impact. His head hangs low, giving the crowd the illusion of a hero at rest, and the townspeople erupt in applause, cheers echoing around the clearing. Unaware of the horror unfolding before them, they see only the man who has helped them survive the devastation of the Stargate.
But Célestin’s heart freezes as he observes André’s form. ‘This is it,’ he thinks, dread taking root deep inside him.
Slowly, André lifts his head, crimson-red eyes glowing as they bore into the group. A twisted, maniacal grin spreads across his face. The cheers continue, oblivious to the creeping malice in his expression.
Celine gasps, her hand covering her mouth as her worst fears are confirmed. "He took over…" she whispers, horror evident.
Maurice’s eyes narrow, a surge of recognition and anger washing over him as he stares into those blood-red eyes. The memories claw their way back—the same murderous gaze that haunted him all those years ago. It is the same look André wore when Maurice’s father was killed, a moment that has haunted Maurice and kept him from reconnecting with his old friend.
"You…” Maurice breathes his voice, barely whispering as he tries to wrap his mind around what he is witnessing. Turning to Celine, he asks, “Who took over?”
She looks back at Maurice, her face pale. “Him…the entity within André…”
“What?” Maurice mutters, his mind racing, ‘There’s something… inside André? Is that why…’ The realization hits hard, deepening his confusion and revulsion as the truth unfurls.
Listening in silence, Clark feels a wave of instinctive fear wash over him despite not fully understanding what is happening. He clings to Celine’s leg, hiding himself as best as he can, his small face peeking out with wide, terrified eyes.
“Oh no…” Célestin mutters, his voice taut. “Here it is…”
Without wasting another second, he grabs Maurice’s arm. “Professor, please—make Monsieur André fall asleep! Now!”
Maurice quickly gathers his Mana, his hand glowing as he aims at André. "Dreamless Sle—"
But André is faster. He is inches from Maurice in a heartbeat, his shadow scythe slicing through the air, aimed at Maurice’s throat.
Without thinking, Maurice conjures a forcefield just in time. The scythe clashes against it with a deafening screech, stopping inches from his neck.
André grins wildly. “You’re still annoying to kill, huh?”
Maurice grits his teeth, meeting André’s ferocious gaze. “Butterfly Blast!”
A swarm of luminous butterfly-shaped beams shoots toward André, their light piercing through the darkened air. But with a single beat of his shadowy wings, André propels himself skyward, the beams missing as he soars above.
He lands a few meters away, just out of reach. The townspeople gasp in shock, their cheers turning into murmurs of confusion and disbelief.
“Why would the mayor attack the man who saved us?” one person whispers, eyes wide.
“What’s happening?” another asks, looking around with fear as the tension grows thicker.
Seeing their unease, André sneers, his red eyes glowing brighter. “Sleep.”
In an instant, the townspeople crumple to the ground, each one drifting into a deep slumber, leaving only Célestin, Maurice, Celine, Clark, and the unconscious Dominic still standing.
André fixes his gaze back on Maurice, the gleam in his eyes darkening. “I’ll kill you first,” he says coldly.
Then he turns his twisted gaze toward Celine, Célestin, Clark, and the vulnerable Dominic lying nearby. “Then… all of you are next.”
Celine’s face blanches, but she manages to steady her breathing, pulling Clark into her arms protectively.
Clark, trembling, looks up at her. “C-Celine… why is he…”
“We’ll be alright,” she murmurs, doing her best to sound reassuring despite the terror gripping her heart.
Célestin meets Maurice’s gaze, his tone urgent. “Professor, you have to take this fight somewhere else!”
Maurice gives a sharp nod, the gravity of the situation sinking in.
André lunges forward with a laugh that echoes like shattering glass, his shadowy scythe approaching Maurice with deadly, almost eager precision. His eyes blaze with red intensity, and the grin on his face widens with every step, a twisted pleasure in his pursuit.
Maurice doesn’t move, doesn’t even flinch. Instead, he gathers Mana, letting it surge through him, focusing on one incantation he has saved for desperate situations like this.
“Segats Yrosulli fo Tnemecalpsid.”
In a single breath, reality begins to blur and twist. The ruined town, the faces of Celine, Célestin, and the sleeping townspeople fade into a swirl of dimming colors and shifting shadows. Maurice’s spell has taken hold, pulling them into an isolated battleground he has prepared for moments of utter necessity.
They reappear on an expansive stage in a vast, empty theater. It is a place that exudes a haunting beauty—a grandiose yet hollow setting with row upon row of crimson velvet seats stretching out before them, drenched in silence. The golden trim along the balconies glints faintly, and a massive crystal chandelier looms above, casting a muted glow across the eerie space. Maurice knows this setting well; it is his illusionary stage, an alternate space he has crafted where spells can reach their true potential without harming anyone else.
André halts mid-step, momentarily jarred by the sudden change in surroundings. His gaze sweeps over the empty theater, a glint of surprise in his eyes, but it quickly morphs into delight as he tilts his head back and lets out a harsh, mocking laugh.
“A grand stage, Maurice? How perfectly theatrical.” André sneers, twirling his scythe with a manic ease, his red eyes fixating on Maurice with sinister intensity. “You’ve set up quite the spectacle for your demise. So considerate of you—more space for me to tear you apart without interruption!”
Maurice steadies himself, feeling the power of his illusion spell pulse around them, grounding him. He locks eyes with André, his face a mask of calm determination. He can feel the anger simmering beneath, tightly controlled but fueling his resolve.
“If it’s a stage you want, then let’s see who earns the final bow,” he says, his voice level, though each word carries a simmering intensity.
Inside, his heart tightens with a mix of bitterness and sorrow. ‘André... I always thought it was you who killed my father. But this thing… this entity within you… it must be stopped.’ Maurice’s fists clench, his Mana simmering at his fingertips. ‘If it’s you somewhere, I will help you. And if it’s not… then I’ll end it.’
The room is silent and thick with tension as they face off on the theater stage, each waiting for the other to make the first move. And Maurice knows that in this space he has created, there will be no holding back.