The teleportation Magnus achieved through the Command Console was truly instant. It was a kind of acceleration that blinked his body in and out of the universe, outside time and space for a moment so brief it couldn't be measured, before bringing him back exactly where he wanted to be. There was no sense of duration. To him, the shift in scenery—from the cold, empty streets of Arlcliff City to the front of his dorm room—was nothing more than a blink.
He didn't move right away. Basker's voice echoed in his mind.
[Master, it's time.]
Magnus let out a quiet sigh and gave a small nod.
Knew this had to happen... not exactly looking forward to it though. No, that's a lie. This is going to be hilarious... probably. Just make sure 'normal me' doesn't freak out too hard.
He spoke about himself like he was a separate person. In a way, he was. He'd felt this before—back when he got caught in the Nullfang's reality break and went to what he believed was the fundamental layer of the world. Back then, he'd made a risky decision. At the time, he hadn't hesitated or felt much fear because they had been minimized to an extreme. But when his emotions came back, the weight of what he'd done hit him hard. He'd cursed himself for how casual he'd been about something that could've easily gotten him killed.
That's when he started thinking of his emotions as separate versions of himself.
He only felt like 'himself' when he could feel everything. And now it was time.
The shift began as he stepped through his dorm room entry hall. He felt the changes take hold in his brain. Parts that had been shut off were reconnecting. Emotions and sensations that had been dulled lit up again, one after another. And with them came the impact. A flood of memories—every thought, every decision, every action he took while he'd been floating in pure euphoria—and everything that happened before he tampered with his mind—hit him all at once.
[Master, please don't panic.]
Basker's voice stayed steady, trying to soothe him. It wasn't as bad as what happened down in the underground chapel—back then, Magnus had shut down completely.
But even now, the intensity was overwhelming. Guilt, sorrow, anger, confusion—an endless torrent, all crashing together in his head.
He stumbled. His body jerked sideways, and he reached out blindly, catching himself against his desk. Books slid off the top, almost falling, papers crumpling underneath his hand as he tried to steady himself.
That's when Magnus heard a voice, along with the soft sound of turning pages.
"Huh?" It was Celia. She was lying on her back across one of the long couches, legs draped over the armrest, holding a book above her head as she read. The cold tea on the table beside her and the empty plate of crumbs made it clear she'd been there for a while.
"Magnus, is that you? I didn't even hear you come in." She sat up, closed the book, and casually tossed it onto the table. Her legs began to swing off the couch, like she was about to stand, seemingly eager to share something with him, but then she stopped.
She saw him.
Celia had always felt uneasy about Magnus changing himself. How many people could honestly say they'd watched someone transform—not just mentally or emotionally, but physically, shifting from human into... something else? She had tried to accept it, or at least push the thoughts aside. She'd seen him walk away from the Live Examination barely scratched. She'd listened to his stories—the things he'd done, the horrors he'd faced. She knew about the improvements he'd stacked onto himself, pushing his body beyond human limits.
Yes, it disturbed her sometimes. That was just the truth. But somewhere along the line, a part of her had stopped worrying—at least about his body. He could heal from anything. He knew magic. He had Eveline in his corner. He was strong. Really strong. Somewhere along the way, he had become invincible in her mind.
Her thoughts drifted back to the day he got that letter from the Major General. The one about the scope of Zeth's organization. That had been the first time she'd seen Magnus genuinely afraid.
Hadn't she learned this already? That he could break?
Why had she forgotten that?
Her hands tightened in her lap as she stood, her fingers curling into the fabric of her skirt.
Magnus, on the other hand, hadn't expected to see Celia at all. She hadn't been here when he left. It was already late—far too late for visitors, even the servants of students to be allowed in or out of the academy.
He took a second to process, then asked, "Celia, what are you doing here?"
The question didn't catch her off guard. But the sound of his voice did.
He was trying to sound normal. She could tell. But there was something beneath it—a weariness, a heavy swirl of emotions that he was clearly trying to push down. He wasn't even looking at her directly.
Celia slowly started walking toward him.
"Eveline brought me," she said.
"She said there was a breakthrough with the predictions... She teleported me here to show me. I kind of lost track of time after that." It was obvious she wasn't telling the whole story. But it was just as clear that none of that mattered to her right now.
"Magnus… what happened?" Celia asked as her eyes scanned him. His academy uniform was a mess—the top half ripped away. He wasn't visibly injured, but she could tell. Something had changed again. His body had changed.
Still refusing to meet her gaze, he muttered, "It's… It's nothing. I just need to sit down."
Even saying that felt like driving a spear through his own mind.
A memory flashed, and for a split second, he wasn't in his dorm room anymore. He was back in the underground chapel. The cold air. The silence is so thick it rings in his ears. And most of all—the red. That horrible stretch of red across the ground in front of him. A stain that felt permanent. Blood that had sunk into his brain, into his very soul. The faces that came with it, those last moments, burned into his vision.
Even with his eyes closed, he could still see them.
The thought slammed into him. He gasped and stumbled back against the desk, his back thudding into the wall.
Celia moved on instinct, reaching out to catch him. Her hand landed on his bare skin—and that's when she felt it.
He was shaking.
Still, he forced out a few words.
"Sorry… I'm fine, Celia. Really, I-"
She cut him off before he could finish. Her voice was firm. Steady. Her eyes locked onto his with a seriousness that left no room to dodge.
"Magnus. What happened?"
Silence.
Neither of them moved. The question hung in the air like a weight.
Then he looked up. Their eyes met.
Celia's breath caught in her throat.
His eyes—normally a warm, rich amber—were different now. A shining gold, glinting even in the dim light. They were beautiful. Mesmerizing. The kind of eyes you could lose yourself in.
But Celia didn't get lost in them.
She saw it.
The pain. The anguish. The guilt, the rage—some of it turned outward, most of it turned in. His eyes were wet, tears welling up but refusing to fall. They were vibrant. And they were full of torment. She didn't think. Her body moved before her mind could catch up. Her hands, still holding onto his trembling arms, pulled him in. She wrapped her arms around him and hugged him tightly.
For a moment, his body went stiff. His arms dangled at his sides.
Then they rose, slowly, and wrapped around her waist. He hugged her back. His head dropped onto her shoulder. Celia closed her eyes as she felt each tremor pass through him. Then she heard it—a small, broken snifle by her ear.
That night, Celia was fairly sure it was the first time she'd ever seen Magnus truly break.
He cried. Not just tears, but sobs. Weeping that shook his whole body. And between the sobs, she caught a few soft, barely formed words:
"I'm sorry... I'm so sorry..."
Neither of them really remembered how long they stayed like that, or when they finally moved.
Celia now sat at the edge of Magnus's bed, her legs resting over the side, feet touching the floor. She was looking down at him—he lay stretched across the bed, head resting in her lap. He wasn't looking up at her, just staring off toward the wall of his dorm room. One of her hands rested on his shoulder, while the other slowly moved through his hair, brushing it aside and tracing the edge of his face.
It felt strange.
Her hands knew what a human body felt like, and this should've been the same. He was warm. His skin was soft. His hair moved easily between her fingers. But something told her—what she was touching wasn't quite human. A body made to endure, shaped to mimic something real. All controlled by a mind she couldn't help but admire for its brilliance.
She didn't say anything. Not at first. She just sat in silence with him.
It was Magnus who finally broke it.
"Well, that was embarrassing," he muttered, voice low, a slight chuckle slipping through at the end.
Celia's hand slowed but didn't stop.
"No, it wasn't," she said gently.
"You don't have to feel embarrassed for feeling something, Magnus."
"Yeah, I know..." He murmured.
He let out a soft sigh, then gave a faint smile as she kept running her fingers through his hair.
"You know, it was actually my dad who had to teach me that," he said suddenly.
That caught Celia's attention. Her brows lifted slightly. Magnus didn't talk about his parents often—or about his life before Arlcliff City.
"I didn't grow up in the friendliest social environment. We couldn't afford to move, so I dealt with it. It sucked, but I got used to making excuses to keep myself going. Told myself other people had it worse, and I should be grateful. Convinced myself things didn't hurt when they did. Laughed off what I could and buried the rest."
He paused, then added, "But... I think after a while, I got kind of jaded. One day, it kind of all just exploded out. I said some things to my parents. Things I really, really regretted."
His eyes narrowed slightly. His face wasn't exactly frowning, but it had lost the warmth from just moments ago. With how sharp his memory was, he could see the moment like it was unfolding right in front of him.
"So what happened?" Celia asked softly, still watching him.
His eyes flicked back up toward her as he gave a quiet laugh.
"Luckily for me, my parents are awesome. Taught me a lot. And instead of whooping my ass—which, honestly, they had every right to after what I said—my dad took me to my room, sat me down, and just... talked to me. He wasn't the type to react to the symptom—he always went for the cause. He was good at that. I don't even remember when I started telling him everything. He didn't usually get angry—that was more my mom's thing—but I could tell he was livid."
He chuckled again, this time softer. There was a tenderness to the memory.
"He went down to the school. Talked to people, staff, and tried to straighten things out. And to be fair, it worked... for a little while. I couldn't afford to drop out, but I also didn't want him or my mom to worry, so I didn't tell them when things got bad again. Still, I think what helped me most wasn't him trying to fix the situation. It was what he told me that night, after I opened up to him."
Magnus went quiet for a moment. Then, he recited the words clearly, as if he were hearing them all over again.
"If we only cared about people with greater struggles than our own, we'd end up caring about no one at all."
After a pause, Magnus shrugged slightly.
"Anyway, it didn't completely stop me from comparing my struggles to other people's. But... it helped. Made it easier to open up a little, I think." At that, Celia's hand stilled against his head. She let out a thoughtful hum, her eyes lingering on him.
"Your father sounds like a great man," Celia said.
"Though, as for opening up... I'd say you still need a little work. Just a little," she teased, a playful smile tugging at her lips.
Magnus raised a brow.
"I'll ignore the hypocrisy there and not ruin the mood. But yeah, my dad's cool. I just really hope they're doing okay. Wherever they are... without me. The last thing I want is their lives stalling because I... disappeared."
Celia gave him a small nod.
"Well, I'd say you've been doing pretty good. And if they're the ones who raised you, I can only imagine they're handling things just as well. I'm sure they miss you, though."
"Yeah," Magnus murmured.
"You're probably right."
A quiet stretch of silence followed, but it didn't feel heavy. The earlier tension was gone. Now the stillness felt calm, gentle, even. Comfortable.
That's why it caught Celia off guard when Magnus finally spoke again.
"It was an old church."
Her gaze drifted back to him.
"What?"
"It's a bit hard to explain," he said.
"After we visited Hisel, and I went to run my errand, I realized I was being followed. I ended up getting jumped by those vampires again. More of them this time. A lot more."
Worry settled on her face.
"Is that how you got hurt?" She asked.
Magnus shook his head.
"No. They were easy. I beat them—captured them, too. But I knew I couldn't just keep reacting. I had to end it, or things would spiral. So with Eveline's help, I tracked down where most of them were meeting. The plan was simple—go in, handle all of them before they could come after me."
His voice started to go quiet.
"But that's when it got complicated. There were people there. Humans. Hypnotized. I had to save them... and take out the vampires. It got rough. Especially because I had to deal with 'her' again." He didn't say her name. He didn't need to. Celia knew exactly who he meant—Lady Austra. Her face had haunted both of them in different ways.
"People died," Magnus said flatly.
"A lot of people."
He took a breath.
"I almost died."
Another pause.
"I managed to win... came out on top after modifying myself again, but..." He closed his eyes, exhaling as he slowly sat up from her lap. Celia didn't say anything—she just watched him, quiet and steady.
Then he looked over at her, offering a small grin. It was wry. Almost self-deprecating.
"I don't want to tell you the rest. The details... I just can't. Sorry. I guess you were right—I still need to work on opening up."
But Celia only shook her head. There was no judgment in her expression.
"It's fine," Celia said softly.
"No one changes completely in a day. I'm just glad you told me a little about what happened." She smoothed out the skirt of her maid uniform before standing up with a light hop. Turning back to face Magnus, her voice shifted, slipping into the usual playful tone she only used when it was just the two of them.
"So, are you in the mood for some tea? I've got enough left over to make a fresh pot. Or are you about to tell me you can't taste anymore or something?" She joked.
Magnus scoffed, feigning offense.
"Like I'd ever get rid of my tastebuds." His eyes drifted toward the windows as he said that. The sky outside was pitch black, but the stars and moons lit it just enough to break the darkness. If anything, it was probably so late it was nearly morning.
"Oh, wow, it's really late," he muttered.
"Do you want me to take you home after tea? I can teleport now. Fully. I can only go places I've seen or can see, but I could drop you off close and walk you the rest of the way," Magnus offered.
Celia, meanwhile, was already gathering the cups, the pot, and the plate she'd used for her pastries. Upon hearing his offer though, she shook her head without missing a beat.
"Oh, no. I'm not leaving you alone tonight. I'm staying here until I'm one hundred percent sure you're okay." That caught Magnus off guard. He let out a laugh.
"What are you, my babysitter now?"
"If that's what it takes to make sure you're alright, then yes," Celia replied, not the least bit embarrassed. She carried everything over to the door in the upper left corner of the room—the one that led to the small kitchen. Magnus hardly used it himself—he couldn't cook to save his life—but Celia had kept it clean and stocked.
"Alright, but what about your clothes?" Magnus asked, watching her go.
"You're sleeping in that?"
Celia paused and looked down at her maid's uniform. She stayed quiet for a moment, staring at her outfit then back at him.
"I, uh..." Her words trailed off as Magnus started laughing again.
"Alright, it's late, and unlike me, you don't have a super-customized body. I'll chalk that up to you being tired. You can borrow a set of my pajamas."
"Oh, how generous," she shot back, somehow managing to open the kitchen door with both of her hands full. She kicked it the rest of the way open with her foot.
"In that case, I'm going to need to borrow a towel, too. I definitely need a shower." Her voice trailed off as she disappeared into the kitchen, and the door swung closed behind her.
"Yeah, sure," Magnus muttered, smiling faintly as he looked in the direction she'd gone. But as the quiet settled in again, and he was left alone with his thoughts, something shifted.
His eyes turned toward the wall ahead of him. But it wasn't the wall he saw. The world before him flickered. Overlapping with it was rough stone cold, damp—the underground chapel. The red marks splattered, tainting everything. That awful, flickering red that never seemed to leave his mind.
He wasn't truly alone.
Standing there, he saw them.
Three corpses. Mangled. Impossible to recognize by normal means—yet he knew who they were. They shouldn't have been able to stand. And yet they stood. Magnus was still smiling. The same faint smile he'd given Celia just a moment ago. But now, it lingered for something else entirely. Something wrong.
Then, he blinked.
And they were gone.
A soft laugh escaped his lips as he raised a hand to cover his face.
"Oh, wow. I'm going insane... He was right. That is funny."