While Arion stood outside the gateway, waiting for the cops to finalize their preparations, his mind drifted to a memory from the academy.

It was during one of the grand annual events organized by the heads—a day filled with speeches, performances, and awards. Arion, serving as a volunteer, was moving through the crowd when a distinguished figure approached him.

“Well, well… am I looking at the prodigy who’s been sweeping prizes every year—even as a high schooler?”

Arion’s chest swelled with pride. He was momentarily awestruck that such a well-known figure recognized his achievements. Flashing a confident smile, he responded, “Yes, sir! That would be me.”

The man’s expression shifted to mock surprise. “What a shame for me, then, that someone as accomplished as you probably doesn’t even know who I am. Or do you?”

Arion’s confidence wavered, but he quickly masked it with polite reassurance. “Oh! My apologies, sir. I might know you, but my silly brain just can’t seem to recall at the moment.”

The man waved off the apology with a chuckle. “No need to worry about that! I’m the principal of the Solvarion Institute of Nymbrae.”

Arion straightened up and extended a hand. “It’s an honor to meet you, sir.”

The principal returned the handshake and said, “I’ve had the chance to see you perform during inter-school events. I must say—you’re incredibly talented for your age.”

Arion’s face began to warm with pride again, but before he could respond, the principal cut him off.

“Of course, it’s no surprise,” the man continued. “You had Zar as your mentor, didn’t you? He’s a remarkable teacher. Every student he trains seems to shine.”

The words struck Arion harder than he expected. As the principal went on, praising Zar’s teaching methods and his ability to mold talent, Arion’s smile faded.

The compliment he had initially basked in now felt hollow. It wasn’t his effort being recognized—it was Zar’s influence being credited for his success. A bitter edge of jealousy crept into Arion’s thoughts, but he kept his face composed, nodding along while resentment simmered beneath the surface.

Suddenly, he snapped out of his thoughts as a firm hand shook his shoulder.

“Hey! Quit daydreaming, kid,” one of the cops said. “We need to move. There’s no time to waste.”

Arion quickly straightened up, pushing aside his emotions. “Right… sorry. Let’s not waste any more time.”

————————————————

Zar shut the diary he had found near the table, his hand trembling slightly as he closed its worn cover. Leaning forward, he rested his forehead against his palm, his elbow propped on his knee. His wide, unblinking eyes betrayed the storm of thoughts racing through his mind.

“This magic... it was never created for a noble purpose,” he muttered under his breath. He paused, his voice tightening as he continued, “All this time, I’ve defended it. I told people they were wrong, that they just didn’t understand. I asked them to reconsider—no, begged them—to change their perspective. And for what? A root of destruction?”

Zar exhaled sharply and stood up, pacing around the dimly lit room in an effort to clear his mind. But the weight of what he had just read refused to leave him. He finally grabbed his bag, slinging it over his shoulder, and turned toward the ladder that led to the upper floor.

His steps were slow, deliberate—as if every movement was battling against an unseen force. It wasn’t hesitation. It was resistance. Something deep within him didn’t want to leave this place.

Zar came to a halt at the base of the ladder, staring at the first rung. His grip tightened on the bag’s strap as his thoughts wrestled for dominance. Then, he looked down at Gorath, whose gaze mirrored a quiet curiosity.

Zar lingered for a moment longer before turning back to the table. His eyes locked onto the glass sphere, its faint glow pulsating as if calling out to him. He let out a slow breath.

“Screw it,” he said, dropping the bag to the ground. “I’m still going to perform the experiment. I’ve come this far—I need to see the outcome, no matter what it is.”

Zar carefully examines the brewing table, holding a bottle of green, glowing potion in his hand. The glass sphere containing the umbrites was connected to a network of concealed pipelines, clearly designed to manipulate the particles within the sphere. Running his fingers along the polished surface of the table, Zar murmurs, "This setup is impressive. Might consider replicating something like this in my lab back at the institute."

He gently swirls the potion inside the bottle, its glow casting faint reflections against the glass sphere. Just as he prepares to pour it into the tube connected to the sphere, a sharp crackling noise echoes from the floor above. Zar freezes for a moment, his eyes scanning the dimly lit chamber. But after a brief pause, he dismisses it, too focused on his experiment to care.

Turning his attention back to the task, Zar carefully pours the potion into the pipeline. He leans in, his gaze fixed on the umbrites inside the sphere, waiting for any visible reaction. The green liquid flows through the tubes and dissolves into the swirling mass of particles, yet their essence remains unchanged.

Zar narrows his eyes. "Come on... at least flicker or change color—anything to confirm this worked." He watches intently, his anticipation growing. Seconds stretch into over a minute, but nothing happens. The umbrites remain still, their dark, ethereal glow as ominous as ever.

A sudden, thunderous crash echoes from the floor above, jolting both Zar and Gorath. Zar instinctively looks around, then shifts his gaze to Gorath. "Whoever just fell definitely isn’t you," he mutters, eyeing the massive creature. "Unless you called your family reunion up here."

His eyes flick toward the opening above. Taking a cautious step forward, he quickly packs his bag and disconnects the glass sphere from the table's intricate pipelines. Slinging the bag over his shoulder, he glances back at Gorath. "Let’s move."

He starts climbing the ladder, gesturing for Gorath to follow. Gorath hesitates, clearly unfamiliar with ladders, and awkwardly attempts to climb. Failing miserably, he growls in frustration.

Zar sighs. "Oh, come on!" Without hesitation, he grabs Gorath’s arm, hoisting the heavy creature upward with one hand while climbing with the other. As they reach the upper floor, Zar barely has time to steady himself before spotting a Morbax—a hulking, beast-like creature—charging straight at them.

Before Zar can react, Gorath launches himself at the Morbax, slamming it to the ground with raw force. He follows up with a barrage of crushing punches until the creature finally stops moving.

Zar raises an eyebrow and smirks. "I’m starting to like you even more," he says, his voice edged with amusement.

But his moment of levity fades quickly as he spots movement near the entrance of a side room. Two figures emerge, their twisted, decayed forms shambling toward him. Their hollow eyes and tattered robes hint at their past lives. Zar’s expression hardens as he mutters, "Undead magicians... Still clinging to this world because of Eryndor’s curse?"

He glances briefly at the chamber’s worn inscription near the entrance, translating the ancient text aloud. "Thálamos tou Nekroú Cháous... Chamber of the Undead Chaos." His tone grows colder. "Now it all makes sense."

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Without hesitation, Zar raises his hand and releases two concentrated bursts of energy. The blasts collide with the undead, sending them crashing into the walls. Smoke and debris scatter through the dimly lit corridor.

Wasting no time, Zar adjusts his grip on the glass sphere and moves deeper into the hallway, motioning for Gorath to follow. "Let’s keep moving. I doubt those were the last of them."

Zar sprinted down the corridor, his breath sharp and rapid. When he glanced back, his eyes widened—more of the undead were pouring into the hallway, swarming toward him like shadows given form. Gorath was behind them, fending off the onslaught, but Zar couldn’t stop to help—not with the sphere clutched tightly in his hand. His expression shifted to one of controlled panic as he quickened his pace, searching desperately for an opening.

“They weren’t attacking Gorath…” Zar thought, trying to reassure himself as he climbed the narrow stairwell, his footsteps echoing with urgency. “I’ll assume he’s safe for now.”

Reaching a higher floor, Zar darted into a dimly lit hallway lined with tall, cracked windows along the left side. He paused briefly to catch his breath, but before he could think, a sharp voice blasted through the air, echoing off the stone walls.

“Stop right there, Zar! Take one more step, and we’ll shoot.”

The words were distorted but clear, transmitted through a microphone. Zar froze, his entire body tensing. Slowly, he tilted his gaze toward the nearest window, and his stomach dropped.

Outside, a squad of cops had their laser rifles locked on him, their weapons glinting under the pale light. But what rattled Zar more was the figure standing among them—Arion.

“ARION?!” Zar’s voice boomed, half in disbelief, half in anger. “What the hell are you doing here? How did you even end up in this mess?”

Arion, standing tall with his usual nonchalant demeanor, refused to meet Zar’s gaze. Instead, he turned toward the cops.

“That sphere he’s carrying definitely contains the hidden Umbrites.” Arion’s voice was calm, deliberate. “I’ve seen them. My testimony can be used to prove zar guilty. Do whatever you need to from here—I’ll leave it to you.”

Zar’s grip on the sphere tightened as his breath quickened. He shouted, his voice strained and cracking under the weight of betrayal. “Why, Arion? Why would you do this?”

Ignoring Zar’s pleas, Arion spoke to one of the officers.

“Make sure his bag doesn’t take any damage,” he said casually. “He’s got tools in there—probably that wand he’s been carrying—that might help us get out of here.”

Zar’s frustration boiled over. “Why, Arion? Just why?” His voice wavered, the disbelief evident in his tone. “I trusted you... you were my favorite student. How could you…” His voice faltered.

Arion, however, barely spared him a glance. Muttering under his breath, he scoffed, “This annoying old man…” before turning away.

The sky above suddenly shifted, hues of orange and yellow blending in an unnatural distortion, casting an eerie evening light over the scene. Arion, scanning the area, noticed a squad of 10 to 20 armed reinforcements charging toward him. His lips curled into a brief smile as he muttered, "Oh, they're here. Glad they made it in time."

Without warning, the floor beneath Zar cracked open. He plummeted through the collapsing ground, landing with a hard thud in the floor below. It was Gorath, his stone-like appendages extending from the ground to break the floor beneath Zar.

Arion whipped around, his eyes scanning the empty space where Zar had been standing moments before. Realization hit him, and he shouted toward the cops, "I can't believe you potato-eyed officers! Cop 1, 2, and 3-go find him! Now! Don't let him escape this palace!"

The cops broke into a sprint, each taking a different route to search for Zar.

Meanwhile, Zar groaned as he slowly got up from the fall, only to be met with Gorath, who was standing nearby. Zar threw his arms around him, relief flooding through him. "I'm so glad you're safe! I almost forgot I had a companion with me," he muttered, giving Gorath a firm hug. Gorath growled softly and offered Zar a warm, almost charming smile.

Zar immediately pulled away and scrambled to his feet. "We need to hide," he said, his voice tense.

Elsewhere, Cop 1, who had entered through the main entrance, was met with a terrifying sight-dozens of undead magicians charging at him. Panicked, he began firing wildly at them, but the creatures were relentless, swarming him before he had a chance to react. The undead dug into him, tearing at his flesh and peeling skin from his body as he screamed in agony.

Zar and Gorath continued to rush through the castle, desperation fueling their every step. But just as they neared the other end of the corridor, they skidded to a halt. Standing in their path was Cop 3, holding a laser gun and a magic-resistant shield.

Zar quickly handed the glass sphere to Gorath. "Stay here. Let me handle him," he ordered, his voice steady despite the situation.

With a burst of speed, Zar charged at Cop 3, releasing two or three energy blasts in rapid succession. The cop effortlessly raised his shield, deflecting each blast with minimal effort.

Before Zar could even blink, the cop fired his laser gun, the bright beam streaking toward him. Zar's reflexes kicked in as he dodged the shots with uncanny agility, weaving through the air, narrowly avoiding each laser. His movements were sharp and fluid.

Zar's eyes narrowed as he closed the gap between himself and Cop 3. With a burst of speed, he leaped toward the cop, channeling a surge of sparkling energy into his fists. In one explosive strike, he slammed his fist into the cop's magic-resistant shield. The force of the blow shattered the shield into pieces, sending sparks flying in all directions.

Before Cop 3 could react, he swung his gun at Zar in a desperate attempt to create some distance. But Zar was faster. He grabbed the gun mid-swing, yanked it toward him, and pulled the cop into range. With the same hand, he unleashed a devastating punch, his energy-infused fist crashing into Cop 3's face. The force was so intense that it shattered his jaw with a sickening crack.

The cop staggered back, trying to regain his balance, but Zar didn't give him a chance. He launched a flurry of rapid punches, each one landing with pinpoint precision on the cop's abdomen. The barrage of blows sent Cop 3 flying across the room, slamming into the floor with a sickening thud.

Zar took a deep breath, looking around for an escape. Spotting an opening leading to another room, he called out to Gorath.

As they hurried into the next room, Zar's eyes widened in disbelief. The space before him was another laboratory-just like the one they had fled from earlier.

He groaned in frustration. "How many laboratories are there in this castle?" he muttered under his breath.

Meanwhile, Cop 2 had arrived at the scene. Seeing Cop 3 lying motionless on the floor, he rushed to his side. "What happened?" he demanded, shaking his partner.

Cop 3 groaned in pain, barely able to speak. "I... I tried to fight Zar, but... I failed."

Cop 2 cursed under his breath. "You should've called for backup immediately, you idiot. Trying to take him on alone? A skilled professor like him... fighting him alone was pure foolishness." He glanced toward the hallway. "Where did he go?"

Cop 3 winced, pointing weakly. "Towards... the laboratory."

Just as Cop 2 was about to leave, Cop 3 grabbed his arm. With trembling hands, he reached into his bag and handed over a small device-a nuclear bomb. "Take this," Cop 3 said weakly. "It's capable of destroying the entire castle. If Zar is in that laboratory and there's no other option, activate it. It'll end everything there."

Cop 2 took the bomb with a grim nod, his face hardening. "Understood." Without another word, he turned and sprinted toward the laboratory, the weight of the situation heavy on his shoulders.

Suddenly, deafening cracks of thunder and the unsettling hum of space distortion echoed through the castle. The already fragmented air twisted violently, warping into chaotic spirals of light and shadow. A surge of immense pressure descended, suffocating and overwhelming, signaling the arrival of a being with god-like presence.

Floating ominously above the castle grounds, Orestes emerged—a figure cloaked in ethereal energy, his piercing gaze locked onto the reinforcements surrounding Arion. The sky behind him burned with an unnatural glow, as if reality itself bent to accommodate his arrival.

The cops instinctively formed a tight protective circle around Arion, their shields raised and weapons aimed. Their faces betrayed fear, yet they steeled themselves, prepared for an impossible confrontation against this otherworldly being.

Meanwhile, Cop 2 stormed into the laboratory, his eyes immediately locking onto Zar. Without hesitation, he attacked, unleashing a barrage of strikes and energy blasts. Zar countered each move with precise agility, his combat instincts sharpening as the tension escalated. Sparks flew as their energies collided, shaking the room with each impact.

Blow after blow, the fight raged on until Zar finally overwhelmed Cop 2. With a final charged strike, Zar sent him crashing into a wall, shattering part of his armor and fracturing one of his eyes. The cop collapsed, his weapon clattering to the floor as he groaned in pain.

Zar barely had time to catch his breath when the ground beneath him rumbled violently. The castle quaked as if an earthquake had struck, throwing him off balance.

Struggling to maintain his footing, Zar glanced toward Gorath, who stood protectively nearby. Suddenly, Cop 2, weakened and barely conscious, raised his gun, desperation burning in his single working eye.

Zar’s instincts flared, but it was too late—Cop 2 fired.

The shot went wide, missing Zar but striking Gorath. A pained roar erupted from the creature as he stumbled backward, the glass sphere slipping from his grasp and rolling across the trembling floor toward Zar.

“No!” Zar shouted, reaching out, but the quake sent him stumbling.

Losing his balance, Zar fell hard—right onto the fragile sphere.

The glass shattered.

As soon as the umbrites made contact with Zar’s body, they surged through his veins like liquid fire, starting from the point of impact. The pain was instant and unbearable. Zar’s screams echoed through the room, raw and unrelenting. His body began emitting a wild aura—a chaotic swirl of violet and white particles dancing across his skin.

He watched in horror as his normal flesh gradually shifted, turning deep violet, as if his very essence was being rewritten. Every nerve in his body burned, every cell screamed in protest. His vision blurred, dark spots clouding his sight. The umbrites flooded his mind, threatening to shatter it under their immense pressure. It felt like his brain was moments away from collapse.

Through the haze, Zar forced himself to look around. He barely made out Gorath’s silhouette, rushing toward his backpack. “G-Gorath...?” Zar rasped, his voice trembling as his focus wavered.

Meanwhile, Cop 2 had activated the nuclear bomb. The countdown ticked away, the timer glowing menacingly—10 seconds to detonation.

Gorath rummaged frantically through the bag, his claws scraping against its contents. With only a few seconds left, he seized the wand, shattering the glowing orb at its tip against the floor. A sudden burst of light enveloped the room.

The realm’s exit triggered just in time—one second before the bomb erupted. Zar and Gorath vanished in a flash, teleported to a completely unfamiliar location in Valtheris.

The castle was consumed by the nuclear blast, reduced to rubble in an instant. The explosion’s shockwave rippled outward, turning everything into dust.

Meanwhile, outside, Orestes made quick work of the reinforcement troops. The battlefield became a slaughterhouse, their screams fading as Orestes obliterated them one by one. Only Arion remained, frozen in disbelief.

He stood paralyzed as Orestes turned toward him, eyes glowing with menace. The castle explosion reflected in Arion’s widened eyes, disbelief etched across his face.

Before he could even process what had happened, the teleportation spell activated once more, sweeping Arion away to another desolate, unknown location in Valtheris.

Arion stood frozen in the eerie silence, his mind struggling to process the events that had just unfolded. His breaths came shallow and uneven as he looked around at the desolate landscape.

“The castle exploded…he muttered under his breath. His voice trembled. “Does that mean Zar is… dead? I— I hope he’s dead!”

He shook his head, forcing himself to move. Breaking into a run, Arion scanned his surroundings, desperately searching for a way back to his hometown. Yet, with every step, his thoughts spiraled further into chaos.

“All the cops are gone too,” he thought, panic creeping into his mind. “What am I going to do now? I guess… I’ll just tell everyone that Zar fell off a cliff. Yeah. That’ll work.”

But his words felt hollow.

Zar’s face flashed in his memory—his sharp eyes and unwavering determination. The countless lessons, the heated debates, and even the moments of admiration Arion once tried to bury deep within himself. Before he could stop it, a single tear rolled down his cheek.

“No!” Arion growled, wiping it away as if the act itself was a betrayal. “No, no, no, no. There’s no need to cry over that fodder. He’s gone. That’s what I wanted all along!”

His voice cracked, but he kept running, as though outrunning his emotions might make them disappear.

“You wanted him dead!” he yelled at himself, trying to drown out the gnawing guilt clawing at his chest.

But no matter how hard he tried to convince himself, the ache lingered—a painful reminder of the bond he refused to acknowledge.