A year has now passed since Obinai first arrived...
It hardly feels real...
The boy who had first been brought into this forest—wounded, desperate, angry—felt like a different person now. The same body, the same mind, but something had shifted deep inside him.
He inhales sharply, centering himself. His eyes close as he rolls his shoulders, feeling the tension coil in his muscles. He mutters the steps aloud. "Breathe in… pull the essence in slowly… don't force it."
A few paces away, Vale sits atop a smooth, flat stone, sipping tea from a delicately carved cup. The tendrils of steam curl and twist in the air. He watches Obinai with a half-lidded gaze, somewhere between skepticism and amusement.
"Do you think this time will be different?" Vale asks, swirling the tea in his cup. "You've been calling me out here for the past month, you know."
Obinai doesn't open his eyes. He stays still, breathing in the scent of damp earth and pine, feeling the weight of Vale's presence just beyond the hum of his own concentration. "Yeah," he finally mutters. "I can feel it. This time is different.**"
He draws in another slow breath, letting the forest melt away into silence...
The essence around him begins to stir. It moves like dust caught in a beam of light—shimmering, weightless, drawn in delicate spirals toward him. He can feel it now, just beneath his skin.
He remembers Vale's warning from months ago—not to force it. Not to twist the essence too aggressively or risk corruption. A fractured soul is not something that can be pieced back together.
Corrupt essence doesn't just break you—it erases you.
His mind flickers with the image of the Soulless—husks of creatures who had fallen into the abyss of lost control. Beings that once were mortal, stripped of will and identity, becoming little more than walking voids of hunger.
Obinai shudders at the thought, remembering Vale's description of them:
"A Soulless does not live. It lingers. It is neither alive nor dead, a thing without memory or desire, only instinct. It does not eat, nor does it breathe. It moves unseen, existing between spaces, spreading like a sickness...
_A creature that disappears in the night… slipping through shadows… terrorizing those unfortunate enough to cross its path… spreading its corruption through touch, ripping souls from bodies and leaving only emptiness behind…"__
Obinai clenches his jaw. That won't happen to me.
He shakes the thoughts away, refocusing.
The essence swirls closer, shimmering like tiny stars.
Obinai's breath steadies, and the particles begin aligning themselves into a ring. He guides them carefully, resisting the urge to force them into place. Patience. The movement is natural, fluid, each star settling into position like pieces of a celestial puzzle...
Then—it happens.
The formation tightens. The air around him thickens, humming with charged energy.
Something shifts...
The weight of the world presses against him, not with force but with presence, as though the very space around him acknowledges what he is doing.
He hears it then—a distant whisper, a static hum.
The earth vibrates beneath his feet. A soft breeze picks up, whispering through the leaves. Obinai's body feels weightless. He blinks, realizing—he's floating.
Vale shifts slightly, lowering his cup. For the first time in months, he looks… interested.
Obinai can feel the the essence struggling to break free...
*Hold it together.
The energy strains against him, slipping through the cracks in his focus.
His feet begin to wobble midair. His stomach tightens, a sickening lurch in his gut as the mana circle shudders. The formation flickers, trembling on the verge of collapse. No, no, no, not now!
The particles unravel. Panic claws at his throat.
It's slipping—he's losing it again.
Obinai grits his teeth, his breath hitching, his muscles locking up. Not again, not this time. He can feel the circle breaking apart at the seams, the mana refusing to settle, scattering like sand in a storm.
"Calm yourself, Obinai." Vale's voice cuts through the noise—steady, unwavering. "Stop resisting."
Obinai barely hears him, his heartbeat pounding in his ears.
"I'm not resisting," he mutters through clenched teeth, trying to wrestle the essence back under control, trying to force it into order. But the harder he grips, the more it slips through his fingers, scattering into formless energy...
Vale exhales softly, stepping closer. "You always do this," he says, not unkindly. "Every time you get close, you fight. You tighten your grip. You try to force it to obey you."
Obinai grits his teeth, the frustration burning beneath his skin. "Because if I don't, it falls apart."
"And when you force it, it falls apart anyway." Vale tilts his head slightly, watching him. "You think control means power. But control without understanding?" He shakes his head. "That's just fear."
Obinai flinches.
"You're still fighting yourself, Obinai," Vale continues. "You resist—even in the smallest ways. Even when you're trying to move forward, some part of you is still stuck in the past, in the failures, in the fear of losing control."
Obinai swallows hard, his fingers trembling.
Vale's gaze softens, but only slightly. "Let it wash over you. The failures. The setbacks. The moments you fell short. Don't fight them—accept them. Accept that you've failed before. Accept that you'll fail again. Let go of the need to be perfect. Let go of the anger. Let the essence settle on its own terms."
Obinai with his eyes shut, takes a slow, uneven breath. His fingers twitch at his sides.
Let go?
That feels wrong.
If he lets go, won't he just lose everything? Won't it all fall apart?
...But hasn't that already happened?
How many times has he forced it?
How many times has he clenched his fists, gritted his teeth, and pushed harder—only to watch it all slip away?
His mind rebels against it—his body fights against the stillness.
But then, in the depths of his mind, a small whisper:
Try...
So he does.
He exhales, deep and slow, loosening his grip—not just on the essence, but on everything. The frustration, the fear, the weight of all the past failures—he lets them drift, lets them exist without trying to crush them down.
And then—
He feels it.
Not just the essence. The flow.
The way it moves, the way it resists, the way it wants to settle. It was never about control.
It was about guiding it.
He doesn't force it. He lets it align.
The particles snap back into formation, tightening the ring.
The mana circle glows brilliantly.
And then—
It locks.
A surge of power rushes through him. The very air crackles with the intensity of it. His breath catches in his chest as he falls—his feet touch the ground, but his legs buckle beneath him. He crashes to his knees, arms bracing against the earth, gasping for air.
Sweat drips from his brow, sliding down his temples. His body trembles, muscles twitching from sheer exhaustion. His vision blurs, the world spinning...
He hears footsteps. Then, a firm hand on his shoulder.
Vale crouches beside him, his usual smirk gone, replaced by something quieter—approval. "You did it."
Obinai forces a weak laugh between ragged breaths. "Told you. This time was different."
Vale lets out a short chuckle, squeezing his shoulder once before rising. "That was all you, you know?"
Obinai exhales, looking up at the quivering leaves of the canopy...
One year. One damn year.
...
The air hums with residual energy from his previous spells, the earth beneath his feet disturbed from the tendrils of magic he'd just unleashed.
Vale watches from a few steps away, his arms crossed. "Not bad," he remarks, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "You're finally starting to shape spells with intent. It's more than just throwing energy at a target now."
Obinai lets out a slow exhale. His entire body still feels thrummed with essence, like an overcharged circuit trying to settle back into place. He flexes his fingers, feeling the faint tingle of energy still dancing along his skin. It's exhilarating—and terrifying.
He glances toward Vale, his expression shifting. "So… you really mean it, huh?" He hesitates, then says it aloud. "You think it's time for me to leave?"
Vale nods, his face unreadable. "Yes, Obinai. You can't stay here forever."
The words sit heavy in Obinai's chest. He knew this moment was coming, but knowing and accepting it were two different things.
He rubs his face, muttering under his breath. Damn.
Vale turns slightly, pacing away before suddenly stopping and turning back. His sharp gaze settles on Obinai. "For now, though, show me one of your second-tier spells."
Obinai snaps out of his thoughts, forcing himself back into the moment. He nods, squaring his shoulders, and focuses.
He scans the clearing, spotting a jagged rock nestled in the dirt. That'll do.
He lifts his hand, fingers twitching as he visualizes the essence flowing in and through him as mana. "Alright," he mutters to himself. "Higher-tier spells are trickier—Vale said complexity increases exponentially with each tier. Ancient and true magic? That's still leagues beyond me. But this? This I can do...[Tanglavine]"
Intent. Structure.
A deep breath. The ground trembles.
Cracks splinter out from beneath the rock, fine as veins spreading through stone. From the fractured earth, dark green vines slither up, twisting and coiling around the rock like living snakes. The vines pulse, tightening, straining against resistance.
Almost there.
Obinai's jaw clenches, his fingers curling into a fist. There's pushback...
But he focuses, channels his will, and then—
He clenches his fist.
The vines snap tight, crushing the rock with a sickening crack. Dust and debris scatter, the spell collapsing.
Obinai releases the breath he was holding, stumbling slightly.
"That," he huffs, between breaths, "was a binding spell… meant to ensnare enemies and… pin them down."
Vale nods, his expression unreadable, but there's a flicker of satisfaction in his gaze. "A solid spell. Well-formed, efficient." His eyes gleam with curiosity. "Now, tell me—what happens to your first-circle spells?"
Obinai smirks despite himself, wiping the sweat from his forehead. "They get stronger. That means I should be able to—" He stops, his eyes narrowing. A reckless thought enters his mind.
He lowers his stance, grounding himself. He stretches out his right arm, palm open, while steadying it with his left hand.
This should be easy now, right?
"[Magic Missile]."
A brilliant white orb erupts into existence at his fingertips, its glow pulsating violently. Much more powerful than before.
But as he releases it—the recoil catches him off-guard.
He stumbles backward, barely managing to stay upright as the projectile soars toward Vale. He simply flicks his fingers, and the missile disperses into nothing.
Obinai glares, hands on his knees. "Damn it," he mutters.
Vale smirks, shaking his head. "Your control's better, but you're still reckless. You need to adjust for the recoil."
Obinai scowls, but his lips twitch. "Maybe you should be my next target. Without magic. I could use the practice."
Vale laughs outright, his shoulders shaking. "I'll pass, thanks."
Obinai takes another breath, steadying himself. "Alright, then. One more...[Frost Spear]."
He extends his hand, fingers curling into a precise shape. Cold air coils around his arm, freezing the moisture in the air. Frost crystallizes along his palm, and then—
A spear of ice materializes.
Obinai twirls it once in his hand, feeling its weight. He grins. "The Frost Spear is meant to pierce through defenses and slow an enemy down with its chill effect."
With a sharp thrust, he hurls the spear toward Vale.
The projectile tears through the air, but before it can reach its target, Vale raises a hand. The spear bursts into a fine mist, dissipating harmlessly.
Vale smiles. "Good control. But now, try a movement spell."
Obinai starts to respond, but—
The ground beneath him softens.
"What the—?" He yelps, sinking.
Vale watches, amused. "You never asked when."
Obinai flails, struggling to free himself. "You—! Damn it old man, give me a second—"
The mushy earth clings to him, dragging him down inch by inch. Panic flares in his chest, and then—
His mind snaps to action.
He gathers essence quickly, sucking in a sharp breath. "[Wind Step]!"
A sudden burst of air erupts beneath him, launching him upward.
He soars through the air—too high, too fast.
"Oh, shit—"
His trajectory is all wrong.
Instead of landing beside Vale, he crashes straight into a tree, tumbling to the ground in a heap.
He groans, rubbing his shoulder. "Okay. Wind Step works. But I definitely need to work on landing."
Vale strolls over, extending a hand to help him up. "Not bad for a first try. You're finally adjusting to your body."
Obinai accepts the hand, wincing as he gets to his feet. Vale dusts him off before speaking again.
"You've noticed, haven't you?" Vale says. "Your body—now that essence runs through it—your constitution has changed. You're faster, stronger. More durable. If you had fired a magic missile at full force without essence in your old body, your arm would have shattered."
Obinai pauses...
"Damn," he mutters. Then chuckles. "Guess I should be glad I don't have to worry about that anymore."
Vale smirks, clapping a hand on his shoulder. "Save the rest for later. You don't want to drain your reserves."
Obinai nods, rubbing his sore arms. He exhales, looking up at the sky through the trees.
His journey is far from over.
But for now—he's made progress.
...
The forest is quiet, save for the rhythmic crunch of their footsteps against the leaf-littered ground. Above them, a dimly glowing crystal stays suspended in the canopy dome, its pale light washing over the trees like a moon. Shadows stretch long and jagged across the path, shifting with each step they take. The air is thick with the scent of damp earth, pine, and distant rainfall, the kind of crispness that settles deep into the lungs.
Obinai walks slightly behind Vale, his eyes flickering between the shifting trees and the older man's back. This path is too familiar now. How many times had they walked it together? How many times had he left this same clearing, exhausted but excited for the next lesson? And now… this is the last time.
He doesn't want to think about that.
Vale finally breaks the silence. "Does the entity talk to you?"
Obinai hesitates. His steps slow for half a second before he catches himself and speeds up to match pace. "Not at all, actually." His voice is quieter than he intends. "Not even once."
Vale hums, thoughtful. "That's surprising. I expected it to have at least tried to communicate by now."
Obinai scoffs, shaking his head. "You'd think, right? When you told me what you did—when you changed the shape of my damn soul— I figured I'd at least hear a whisper. Something. But no. Nothing." His voice tightens. "Just silence. And to be honest… that's almost worse."
Vale glances at him sideways. "Silence can be a form of preparation," he says. "It might be gathering strength. Or waiting for the right moment."
Obinai huffs. That's not exactly reassuring. He runs a hand through his hair, exhaling through his nose. "I don't like it. Feels like there's something lurking in the back of my mind, just... watching." His fingers curl into fists at his sides. "If it's part of me now, shouldn't I be able to feel something?"
Vale doesn't answer right away. Instead, they walk in silence, the trees arching over them like silent sentinels, watching, waiting. The forest had always felt like home, but tonight, it feels… different. Like it knows he's leaving.
As they near the cottage, its warm golden glow spilling onto the path ahead, Vale finally stops. He turns to face Obinai, his face illuminated by the lantern light.
"I think you'll be okay for a little while."
Obinai's stomach tightens. "For a little while?" His voice is bitter. "That's just your way of saying I'm on my own soon, isn't it?"
Vale exhales, his eyes softer than usual. "If something dire happens, I will come. You won't be alone. But Obinai..." His expression darkens. "You were never suppose to stay here forever."
Obinai knew it was coming. Of course, he did. But hearing it out loud? It makes it real.
"Vale…" His throat is dry. *He wants to argue, but what's the point?
Vale, sensing the resistance, sighs. "You already know why."
Obinai doesn't respond right away. He clenches his jaw, staring at the dirt beneath his feet. *Because he does know...
Nurikabe. The experiments. His father. The dream.
He stares at his hands—trembling. His fingers twitch, curling into fists at his sides as something rises within him. A feeling that he can't quite name...
His voice comes out low. "Yeah… There's a reason all of this happened to me." He swallows hard, his pulse hammering in his ears. "The real reason why humans were locked away. Why I had that dream. What that damn organization was planning with those kids they experimented on." His breath hitches, but he pushes through it, forcing the words out. "I know now that it was for a reason—even if it doesn't excuse the atrocities, the blatant disregard for lives…" His jaw tightens. "And Beelzebub. I have to kill him."
The words settle between them, heavy, absolute.
Obinai breathes in, slow and deep. Then, quieter, more to himself than Vale—"But I know I won't find the answers back there. Only forward."
He clenches his fists so hard his nails dig into his palms. "No matter what it takes."
A faint shudder ripples through Vale, so subtle Obinai almost misses it. But when he glances over, Vale is already steadying himself.
Obinai narrows his eyes. What the hell was that?
But before he can ask, another question pushes forward—one that's been gnawing at him for months.
"Vale," he says suddenly. "What circle are you in?"
Vale stills...
For a long moment, Obinai thinks he won't answer. But then—
"I was in the tenth circle." A quiet chuckle escapes his lips, but there's no real humor behind it.
Then, his expression darkens. The amusement fades.
"But I sacrificed two of them to save someone."
Obinai's stomach drops...
"You—" His mind races, trying to process what he just heard. "You sacrificed them?" His throat feels dry. That's not how magic works. Right?
His brows knit together. "All that power… you could do anything, be anything." His voice is barely above a whisper. "Why would you give that up?"
Vale smiles. But it's wrong. It's not warm. It's not reassuring. It's tired.
"That's a story for another time."
Obinai stares at him. "Why?"
The look Vale gives him unnerves him.
"Because if I tell you now," he says softly, "you'll do the same."
Silence stretches between them...
Obinai wants to press. Wants answers. But for the first time in a long time… he hesitates. Because *he believes him.
And that terrifies him more than anything...
...
The soft glow of the cottage flickers in the distance. The dim crystal above shrouds the world in its pale luminance, illuminating the dewdrops on the leaves, the cool mist curling along the earth like a silent phantom.
Obinai exhales deeply, hands in his pockets...
Tomorrow. He would be gone. He had known this moment was coming, but now that it was here, he felt a pit forming in his stomach.
"Before you head in," Vale suddenly says, his voice breaking the stillness. "Tell me—what did I teach you about the place you will be transported to?"
Obinai hesitates, then scratches the back of his head. "Uhh... Amber? No, wait—Amrosia. The Kingdom of Amrosia," he corrects himself. "I'm supposed to go to Elona Academy there."
Vale nods approvingly. "And?"
Obinai frowns, shifting his weight slightly. He knew Vale was testing him. He searches his mind, going over their past conversations, then snaps his fingers. "Right. You said it's the most modern kingdom and the most… what was it? Susceptible to me?"
Vale chuckles. "Yes. Susceptible. In other words, it's the least likely place for you to be executed on sight."
Obinai snorts. "Yeah, great, real reassuring, old man."
Vale only smiles. "You'll turn in a sealed letter when you arrive. That should grant you an audience with the headmaster."
Obinai nods. "Right. And you also said something about eras... or, uh, epochs?"
"Epochs," Vale corrects, a knowing look in his eyes. "The wretched kingdom you were in before was still stuck in the Third Epoch.**"
Obinai furrows his brows. "Before the radical changes that led to the Fourth Epoch or Old Era, right?"
Vale nods. "Indeed. The Great Change. Or the Advancement in Thiles. Some would call it a technological revolution. Others..." He trails off, then smirks, shaking his head. "Well, let's just say many assume those Third Epoch kingdoms are stuck in the dark ages."
Obinai raises a brow. "And they're not?"
Vale's eyes gleam with something almost mischievous. "No. That's merely a front."
Obinai frowns. "Why?"
Vale chuckles and shakes his head. "That information doesn't matter. At least… not yet."
Obinai huffs. He knows that's Vale's way of saying 'you'll find out on your own.' It's frustrating. He wants to push further, to pry the information out of him, but he knows it's pointless.
"Time to bid you a temporary farewell, young man," Vale says, placing a firm hand on his shoulder.
Obinai feels his chest tighten. The word temporary doesn't make this any easier. This is still goodbye.
He turns toward the cottage but hesitates at the door when he approaches the door, glancing over his shoulder. Vale stands there, watching him with an unreadable expression.
"And this time," Vale calls, "you can sleep longer. Rest well."
Obinai forces a smirk. "You're finally letting me sleep in? Damn, maybe I really did earn this second circle."
Vale chuckles. "Enjoy it while it lasts."
Obinai lingers for another second, then sighs. "Goodnight, Vale."
"Goodnight, Obinai," Vale replies softly.
Obinai steps inside, the warm glow of the cottage enveloping him. The door creaks shut, the finality of it settling in...
...
Vale remains standing in the cold night air, staring at the place where Obinai had stood just moments before. The warmth he had exuded—the patience, the calm reassurance—slips away like a mask removed. His face hardens.
He turns slowly, looking out into the vast expanse of his pocket world. The tranquil forest, the silent trees...
The wind picks up, whispering against his robes. He closes his eyes, inhaling the crisp air deeply before exhaling. His fingers flex, curling slightly as he mutters,
"July 17th. Year 2037, 22:45:36."
The precise timestamp sends a shiver down his spine.
This time… I'm ahead of schedule.
His jaw tightens. His fingers twitch at his side.
Why did I lie to him?
He should have let him stay longer. Should have given him more time. But time is a luxury they no longer have.
The Veil...
The situation beyond it was growing unstable much faster than before. Something had changed.
Vale clenches his fists. "Damn it… I have to be spontaneous. I have to tackle this sooner."
His lips curve into a small, bittersweet smile. But his eyes glisten. The weight of what he has done—the decisions he has made—it's too much. The pressure is crushing.
His smile falters. The tears come before he can stop them.
He doesn't wipe them away.
Instead, he whispers, "I really hope this changes things. I hope this time… it will be different."
His voice shakes. His hands tremble.
Because he remembers.
The stories. The warnings...
The legends spoke in hushed whispers, cowering in fear.
Fear of the human that transcended the gods.
Fear of the one who grasped the Almighty with his own hands.
The human who was no longer human.
Something more.
Something that should never have been.
The title echoes in his mind like a funeral bell.
The Madman.
For he sees, Vale thinks bitterly, as he wipes his face, what sanity dares not to...