When Lucius made his last-ditch effort to claim victory, he linked himself to every grimoire and scroll in the world out of desperation.
When Asta slew him, all but his own were destroyed—lost forever.
With the old gods absent and indisposed, the people of their world could no longer access the tomes they had come to depend on. What once felt natural was now a forgotten miracle.
When the heavenly invaders arrived soon after, most of the world was helpless.
Asta couldn't be in a thousand places at once.
He had little help.
Mereoleona—who had long mastered grimoireless magic—Yuno, a genius in his own right, and the Ryuzen Seven, who had learned Zetten, were the only ones able to lend a hand.
And for a moment, that was enough.
But then the Celestial Host stopped sending foot soldiers.
Their grunts were already stronger than the average vice-captain and wielded abilities tailored to counter magic.
Then came the true powerhouses.
It was like fighting hundreds of Asta replicas. They didn't stand a chance.
Even if the people still had their grimoires, it would've been a brutal challenge. But without them—crippled, their spells forgotten or unusable—it wasn't even a battle.
It was a massacre.
Lives were lost at an incomprehensible rate. They were snuffed out like livestock in a slaughterhouse.
Devils and spirits, no longer able to be bound or contracted to mortal hosts, could no longer unleash their true might.
The magical beasts put up a valiant fight. But aside from Leviathan, most were little more than fodder—lacking the strength to change the tide.
Some mages still stood tall.
Those who had learned the mana method, trap magic, or the few elves—naturally gifted in manipulating mana.
And then there were mages like Noelle.
She had so much raw power that if she stopped caring about control and simply let it all erupt, she could fight.
But it only delayed the inevitable.
Comrades, friends, enemies-turned-allies, and even family fell one by one.
When a ripple was torn open in Paradise's barrier six years ago, they made a desperate escape using the Door of Fate.
They fled their blood-soaked, ruined world for another already marching toward its own doom.
They arrived in Paradise.
And split up.
Following the vague plan Ryuya had left before his death, and before the Tengetsu was destroyed.
They adapted to this new world while laying low.
Their bodies reshaped to match the average Lyzance, and they adopted the local power system to make up for what they had lost.
The grimoires had been divine gifts from the old gods, meant to preserve magic and pass it down through generations.
The Lyzance and elves of Paradise possessed centuries of knowledge and research in the form of texts.
A poor substitute—but it had to suffice.
The biggest difference between the two systems lay in how spells were cast.
Paradise had no grimoires.
They used incantations and chants to evoke higher-order spells.
By studying those chants, the refugees learned how to artificially recreate their lost spells.
In Paradise, the invention of any spell was a monumental achievement—one that could directly earn someone a place in the tower.
If its people ever discovered just how many new spells had been secretly created in the past six years, they would surely lose their minds.
But that was a topic for another time.
— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —
Boom!
As Marze and Headless's attack struck Noelle, a devastating eruption of black flames followed.
They anticipated carnage—hoped to relish it.
But it didn't happen.
"Currents entwine and converge."
Hmm?
The duo paused as her voice rang through the smoke.
"Dragon's coils, embrace."
"Birth my sanctuary."
"Marinidus Silva!"
Vroom!
The smoke and steam cleared, revealing Noelle—completely unharmed.
She stood holding a wand unlike anything they had seen. It was dark brown, tipped with a large, gem-like brooch.
A hemispherical dome of translucent ocean-blue water shielded her body.
Several small whirlpools spun in slow, dangerous orbits along the barrier's edge, while a glowing magical array beneath her feet pulsed with power.
In another world, this would be called Sea Dragon's Nest.
A barrier? Marze narrowed his eyes. I've never heard of a mage named Silva… Is it her? Did she create it?
In Paradise, spells were often named in two parts—one for the caster, and one for the spell's nature or to describe the creator's character.
"Wow, you must be pretty strong (●´⌓`●)!" Headless scribbled into the air with a flourish, mocking concern.
His voice mirrored Marze's thoughts, but his actions didn't pause.
He flicked his wand again, launching a huge beam of darkness directly at her.
As the spell closed in, one whirlpool on Noelle's dome swelled—pulling at the beam with invisible gravity.
It veered off course, spiraling straight into the vortex.
The water darkened, ink-black like dye dropped into a stand mixer.
A moment later, the darkness was gone—absorbed, crushed, erased.
The dome returned to its shimmering blue as if nothing had happened.
Then the barrier vanished like dust in the wind, and Noelle walked forward, calm and unhurried.
Her confidence and composure unsettled them both.
Marze scowled. He didn't need this right now.
He had a mission to fulfill—and she was in the way.
Headless, meanwhile, felt irritation gnawing at him.
She had shrugged off his attack—probing though it was—with zero effort.
He'd already failed to claim the heads of the students earlier.
And if this fight dragged on, he feared Marze might drag him away again.
They couldn't afford another missed opportunity.
Both he and Marze were at the level of Ascendants—stronger even than the average ones.
On par with the Tower's adjutants.
Some of the strongest in the world beneath the Magia Vander.
When they first encountered Rigarden's professors, only one name could make either pause or doubt: Edward Serfence.
Yet an unexpected visitor was already proving to be more trouble than she was likely worth.
Seems our intel's outdated.
As Noelle edged closer, her eyes shifted—morphing back into vertical slits.
The duo paused again.
Does this Silva have the trace of a Drake in her bloodline—
Neither got to finish the thought.
Noelle suddenly blurred forward, feet glowing blue, wand in hand now encased in a gauntlet of water shaped like a Valkyrie's armor.
An enchantment?!
She slammed her fist downward as the duo quickly circulated their magic.
Outlined in silver light and propelled by levitation magic, they split—darting to opposite sides.
Boom!
A deep crater burst open where they once stood.
The dungeon shook violently as cracks spidered through the floor, and the ground collapsed beneath them—swallowing the level into a chasm that dropped straight into the 12th floor.
All three remained suspended mid-air, untouched by the fall.
Marze's pupils narrowed in faint shock.
Headless, meanwhile, scribbled a new message into the air like a child drawing on invisible glass.
It was punctuated by a ghostly whistle.
"Oh no Marze, we may be in trouble, she's kinda scary (ᗒᗣᗕ)՞!!!"
It was hard to take him seriously.
Two of Marze's knives floated from his waist, clicking into place beneath his feet like a hoverboard.
He began circling Noelle with practiced precision.
Headless followed, black gas streaming from his barren neck like spectral smoke.
It pooled beneath his feet, propelling him like unstable rocket boots—less graceful, more chaotic.
Marze looked lethal.
Headless looked ridiculous.
But both were clearly done playing.
Noelle remained still at the center of the collapse, eyes tracking them with sharp control.
Neither side made a move.
They waited.
A faint glow sparked on the back of both Noelle's hands—too subtle to notice.
Two small circular magical arrays appeared, pulsing silver.
With them, two voices echoed in her mind.
One primal, ancient and beastlike.
The other saintly, soothing like a divine maiden.
S-should… I… crush… them…?
Noelle, do you need help?
Noelle responded through the mental link without a flicker on her face.
No. Now's not the time to deal with these two anyway.
The arrays faded. Her hands returned to normal.
Zora had designed those markings—specialized for devil and spirit hosts to re-contract with their familiars in this foreign world.
If only he had finished it sooner… maybe we'd still have a home. Maybe he'd still be with us.
She gave her head the faintest shake, brushing away useless regret.
The time for mourning had passed long ago.
But Marze noticed her lapse.
Like the assassin he was, he took it as a sign.
A dozen triangular magic circles flared to life around him, dark and ink-stained.
Each was laced with unnatural runes and crooked symbols that twisted the eye.
From every circle, a physical weapon emerged—daggers, short blades, lean killing tools.
They shot toward Noelle like darts.
Darts coated and amped by dark magic to be precise.
At the same time, Headless moved.
He pointed his wand.
"Darge!"
A simple dark magic spell—a defensive dome of murky energy—erupted to life.
But he didn't use it to protect himself.
Instead, he shaped it outward like a curved wall.
It swept toward Noelle from behind, sealing off her escape like a second wave of blades.
A firing wall.
Noelle didn't panic.
Instead, she charged.
Forward—straight into the incoming storm of knives.
Marze froze.
He watched the mysterious woman weave effortlessly through the barrage, her flight skills rivaling even the upper ranks of Gothia or the Vander themselves.
He tugged on his telekinetic link, redirecting the knives like homing missiles.
But she evaded them just the same—as if she had eyes on the back of her head.
She stretched unnaturally mid-air, doing the splits, pirouettes, flips, somersaults, cartwheels, twirls—impossible movements without anything beneath her feet.
It wasn't fighting.
It was dancing.
Headless added to the chaos, shooting beams of darkness through his now-useless shield.
She dodged them too.
Not a single cut.
Not a strand of hair out of place.
Not even a wrinkle disturbed on her dress.
It was graceful.
It was beautiful.
It was flawless.
It was fucking annoying.
A vein throbbed on Marze's forehead as he gripped his wand, readying a far deadlier spell.
But she blurred again.
Suddenly, she was on him.
This time, it wasn't a punch.
It was a kick.
And this time, she was far too fast.
"Auggh!"
Blood and spit flew from Marze's mouth.
A tooth dropped into his mask.
He rocketed downward, crashing headfirst through the opening to the 12th floor.
His magic faltered.
All his knives fell.
Vroom!
Headless blasted forward, catching his partner—or maybe his friend—with a strained grunt before he could drop further.
"Fuck…"
Marze groaned, forcing another pair of knives beneath his boots to stop his fall and stabilize mid-air.
He looked up.
Noelle hovered above them like an avenging war goddess—furious, radiant, and deeply confusing.
Mages don't fight like this.
They haven't in centuries.
Close combat was essentially limited to lightning mages—particularly the Thunder faction.
It was seen as primitive.
Unbecoming.
Inefficient.
Real mages use wands, not fists.
Anything else made you no better than a Dwarf.
That was consensus across the magical world.
A rare point where even Gohtia agreed with everyone else.
And yet here she was.
A water mage—one of the most rigid and uptight of users, alongside ice, wind and light—breaking that unspoken doctrine like it meant nothing.
She reminded him of someone.
That savage in the Tower…
"Dammit…"
Marze growled, spitting out the loose tooth into his mask and wiping blood from his lips.
He clenched his wand—and his jaw.
"There's no way you're a professor. Are you a Watcher—"
"Bones of the drowned world, stir."
Both he and Headless froze.
Noelle pointed her wand skyward, her expression cold, unreadable.
A monstrous amount of magical energy began gathering above her.
"Current of abyss and sky, unite."
"Scale of the ancient wyrm, awaken."
"Let the ocean's roar shatter stillness."
As the chant continued, longer and heavier with each verse, the magical arrays above her grew ever more complex.
Intricate. Overlapping. Incomprehensible.
Marze almost choked.
Fuck. That's at least an upper-tier spell!
"Tide of cobalt wrath, crash upon my foes."
Panic overtook him.
He slapped Headless hard on the chest.
"Idiot—summon the gate!"
Headless was already on it, frantically waving his wand.
Teleportation circles flared beneath them, forming as fast as he could will them.
And then Noelle's voice came again, soft as a whisper—but it felt like a death sentence.
"By dragon's blood and salt, I command you."
"Maridraco Silva!!"
Rawwwrr!!
A massive roar split the air.
Above them, a water construct shaped like a dragon—not quite a guardian, but something far more savage—coiled and dove.
Its great serpent-like body twisted downward, maw opened wide, hunger and fury radiating from every drop of its form.
Its sheer presence was suffocating.
Marze couldn't move.
Couldn't think.
For a second, he saw his life flash before his eyes.
Almost.
Just before the dragon could bite down, the teleportation gate completed—
And they vanished.
To who knew where.
"Aughh!"
"Gahhh!"
"Mrooar!!"
Noelle heard the cries—twisted howls of agony from monsters below, crawling up through the hole she'd created.
Her Sea Dragon's Roar obliterated them mid-ascent.
Fountains of gore splashed up through the dungeon floor.
But her face remained unchanged.
No satisfaction.
Only… disappointment.
Boom!
The entire dungeon rumbled again.
Her head snapped up, eyes narrowing.
Far off, deeper into the labyrinth, she heard faint screams.
Desperate.
Familiar.
She could almost see the tragedy.
She shook her head.
Then flew forward—
Catching Will's scent in the air.
Forget it.
Gohtia is Nacht's responsibility anyway.
— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —
Meanwhile:
"Mellvent!"
Wignall shouted, casting a spell in desperation.
A gust of wind surged beneath Will and Lihanna, softening their fall.
They landed in a gentle float.
The others rushed to their sides.
Wignall caught Lihanna. Colette knelt beside Will.
Sion helped Julius up, the older boy draping an arm across his shoulder for support.
Wignall said something, but Will didn't hear it.
Colette's voice reached him—he didn't register it.
Sion and Julius exchanged quick words with Lihanna, voices low and tight.
Will made no sense of any of it.
Even the looming form of the Duke, dragging itself upright again, barely registered.
All he saw—
All he heard—
Was white.
There was only him.
And the goggles.
The gift from the girl he loved.
Shattered.
Glass in fragments.
The strap, sliced in two.
Will reached out with trembling fingers—then froze.
He didn't touch it.
Couldn't.
Afraid that even the slightest contact would make it worse.
The guilt sank in deeper.
I don't deserve it.
Not her effort.
Not her concern.
Not her love.
He had failed.
Failed to protect the only thing she'd ever given him.
The token of their bond—of their promise—reduced to scraps.
His hands trembled.
So did he.
Krak!
Krak!
"Rawwr!!!"
The Duke roared again as it finally stood.
The grotesque burn across its chest had already begun to fade—reduced to a scar by its monstrous regenerative power.
Sion flinched, panic rising.
"Get ready! It's going to attack—"
"Fall back."
Everyone froze.
Except Will.
They turned toward the voice.
Lihanna was no longer in Wignall's arms.
She stood on her own.
"Take Will and Julius and run," she ordered.
Calm. Certain.
Colette's stomach sank at the sound of her tone.
"W-wait, Lihanna, what are you talking about—?"
"I'll keep it busy until the rest of you escape. I'll catch up… or bring it down, even if it costs me my life."
Colette went still.
"No! That's absurd—"
"I'm the leader."
Her voice was quiet, but final.
"All of you did your part in the raid. I failed to finish the job. This is my responsibility."
She stepped forward.
The Duke paused.
The others stared at her back.
Buzz.
Fzz.
Lightning flickered across her arms and shoulders as she turned, just slightly, to look at them.
"Do you know why we Owenzaus die young?"
Their hearts clenched.
She gave the faintest smile.
"It's because we lead the charge… and we're the last to retreat."
That was the truth.
The pride of House Owenzaus.
The oath they lived and died by:
The first to enter battle.
The last to leave it.
Not until the mission was complete.
Not until their allies were safe.
That small back looked unbearably fragile—yet impossibly noble.
She stepped forward again.
Colette's eyes brimmed with tears.
Sion bit down on his lip.
Julius clenched his fist, ashamed.
Then—Wignall stepped forward.
And stood beside her.
Lihanna blinked, startled.
"You're staying?"
"Yeah."
He smiled—gently.
"Why?"
He didn't look at her.
He kept his eyes ahead, facing the monster that had recently haunted his thoughts and dreams.
His voice was quiet. Steady.
"Because we're friends."
A pause.
"And I found another Lyzance I respect."
A simple answer.
Just like him.
Lihanna smiled.
They shared one final glance.
Then charged.
Together.
"Grrrrr!!!"
The Grand Duke shrieked with another banshee-like roar as torrents of wind and bolts of lightning slammed into it from both sides.
The others could only watch—helpless.
Colette and Julius were saying something, but Sion barely registered their voices.
His gaze was locked on Lihanna and Wignall, who threw everything they had to keep the monster distracted.
His knees trembled.
They were about to buckle.
Lihanna and Wignall are going to die…
I-if we want their sacrifice to mean anything, then we should run. Escape like they wanted. Live… and make sure their deeds are remembered.
He tried to justify it—even as bile rose up his throat.
He swallowed it back.
Clenched his teeth.
Tried to convince himself.
T-that it's okay to give up.
Okay to run.
Okay to grab the No-Talent and Julius and just—go.
Julius was out of magical power.
Will looked shattered.
He and Colette had almost nothing left.
Logically, running was the only sane choice.
There's nothing wrong with leaving them behind.
Nothing wrong with saving ourselves!
But it felt… wrong.
As a noble.
As a mage.
As a human.
Sion told himself to turn around.
To move.
But his body wouldn't obey.
His heart wasn't in it.
Dammit! Now's not the time to try and be a hero! Know your limits—
Then he froze.
His pupils constricted.
Colette raised a trembling hand to her mouth, eyes wide with shock.
Julius looked up, confused.
Will looked so fragile—like even a breeze could knock him over.
Trembling, he walked past them.
His knees wobbled, and his grip on his sword faltered.
But still, he moved.
Step by step.
Slow. Unsteady.
Like a prisoner dragging a boulder on his back, inching toward the Duke…
Toward Lihanna and Wignall.
Every step was a battle—
His body was clearly fighting him, begging him to stop.
Yet he kept going.
"H-how…?" Sion whispered.
Will didn't answer.
Maybe he didn't hear.
Maybe he couldn't.
Then something changed.
His shaky steps grew steadier.
His strides lengthened.
Faster. Stronger.
He started to run.
His magenta eyes still trembled—filled with fear.
Not courage. Not confidence.
Just pure terror.
Yet the rest of him—the way he moved, the way he ran—it looked like something out of legend.
Like a knight chasing a fate he knew he couldn't win against, but charged anyway.
H-how?
How are you doing this, No-Talent? Aren't you scared—?
"I'm going too."
Sion froze.
Colette rose beside him.
Forcing her exhausted legs to move.
To walk forward.
And just like that—like the pieces of a clock snapping into place—
The heir of House Ulster stopped trembling.
His knees locked.
His crimson eyes sharpened.
He raised his wand and grit his teeth in fury.
"You have got to be kidding me!!!"
— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —
5 Days Ago
"Auggh…"
I groaned, aching all over, barely managing to grab my water bottle. I took a long, thirst-quenching sip while watching Shishō—still not even breaking a sweat.
He kept swinging his practice sword again and again, his movements fluid and tireless.
Even during the break.
Perhaps behind the barrier the sun was starting to set, painting the false sky in golds and reds.
Another training day nearly over.
I clenched my fist, frustration bubbling up as I muttered under my breath.
"I wish I could be like you…"
It was just a quiet thought, not meant for anyone but me.
But of course Shishō heard it—his damn superhuman senses were sharper than mine.
His ear twitched.
He turned.
And smiled.
"Relax, kid," he said. "You're picking up on Ki faster than I expected. Before long, you'll be sensing your own life force and using it to regulate your breathing and stamina.
You'll be able to last l—"
"That's not what I'm talking about."
The words came out sharper than I meant.
His smile faded.
My legs creaked as I stood, knees barely holding me up.
I bowed my head, flustered. "W-wait, sorry, Shishō, I—I didn't mean to—"
"Nah. It's cool."
He cut me off and stepped closer.
He was actually two inches shorter than me—but at that moment, he felt like a mountain.
I braced myself for a scolding… maybe even a smack to the head.
Instead, he dropped the sword at his feet and placed a hand gently on my shoulder.
"So?" he asked, voice calm. "What's really bothering you?"
When he looked at me like that, all open patience and honesty—I couldn't lie.
I couldn't hide.
So I sat back down on the grassy hill.
And he joined me, just as quiet.
Waiting.
I let the words come.
"Lihanna… the party leader—she scouted me to be the vanguard of our group…"
I trailed off, expecting him to say something.
To scoff. To laugh. To encourage. Something.
But he didn't.
He just listened.
Silent.
Waiting for me to get to the real part.
I sighed, chewing on my lip, the words churning in my throat.
After a long pause, I exhaled and finally let them out.
"She's… trusting me. To be our shield and sword. To confront the monsters. To cut them down, make space—because mages can't fight up close like I can…"
I hesitated.
"But?" Shishō nudged gently.
"B-but I don't know if I can do that…"
My voice came out shaky, small.
"When I'm alone… dungeon diving for just myself… it's different. If I screw up, the only one who gets hurt—the only one I fail—is me."
I swallowed hard.
"But if I mess up now… it could ruin my classmates' future too."
That's why…
That's why I was always a little relieved no one had ever asked me to join a Praxis party before.
Why I always made up excuses when Colette invited me to raids.
Not because I didn't trust her.
But because I didn't want her dragged into my screw-ups.
Didn't want to be the reason she got hurt.
I saw Shishō scratch his cheek, thoughtful. Then his green eyes sharpened a bit.
"You said something earlier. About wanting to be like me. What'd you mean by that?"
My mouth opened—then closed.
For a second, I just sat there, speechless. Then I smiled, but it didn't reach my eyes.
It felt tight. Strained. I looked away.
"I-it's just that… after all this time, I'm still scared. I'm still jealous."
My voice dropped lower.
"I wish I was a mage. Not a sword. Because then… I wouldn't have to stand right in front of those monsters. Monsters that are bigger, stronger, meaner than me…"
The shame bled into every word.
Compared to Shishō—who I've seen tear through hordes of monsters with nothing but a grin—I'm nothing.
Even after all these years of him training me, building me up, helping me find some self-worth…
I'm still that same kid.
The one scared of dying.
Scared of failing.
My hand drifted to my goggles, hanging loosely around my neck.
Elfie made these for me. For a lot of reasons.
To signify a promise to reunite.
To help me see in the dark.
To protect my eyes.
But also because she knew.
She knew I was a crybaby.
That I needed something—anything—to help me feel brave.
And it had helped. At least a little.
But even now, even with everything I've been given—I'm still a coward.
Still terrified of messing up.
Terrified of letting people down.
Terrified of never being strong enough to keep our promise.
Terrified of death—
"Will."
My name snapped me out of it.
I stiffened, and slowly forced myself to look back.
I expected disappointment. Maybe even disgust.
But all I saw on Shishō's face—was a quiet, knowing smile.
Soft.
Understanding.
A little amused, even.
No judgment.
Just him.
Listening.
Like always.
Asta shishō reached out and patted my shoulder again—
But this time, he didn't pull his hand away.
"You think I'm not afraid?"
I froze. "H-huh?" I squeaked.
He chuckled. "Just 'cause I'm not as loud about it as you doesn't mean I don't feel fear. Everyone does. If we didn't... we'd be no better than beasts. Maybe worse."
I stared at him, blankly.
"B-but then… how are you…? I mean—how can you not—"
The words tumbled out in pieces, barely intelligible.
But Shishō understood.
"There are plenty of things I'm afraid of," he said, voice calm. "It's just… fighting monsters in a dungeon isn't one of them."
"Oh…" I nodded halfway.
The sound that came out of me was small.
And disappointed.
Of course he doesn't understand.
Not him.
Not the dwarves.
All of them are brave. Noble. Strong.
Whereas me—
"But you see, Will," Shishō cut in, his tone suddenly gentler, "there's nothing wrong with being afraid."
"Huh?" I blinked, surprised.
His face shifted—softer for just a second.
Then serious. Heavy. The way it only ever got in moments like these.
Times when Shishō didn't feel like my goofy, reckless mentor.
But something else.
A warrior. A leader.
Someone older, wiser.
Like a king.
And when he spoke again, his words hit with profundity.
"It's not about never feeling fear," he said.
"It's about moving forward anyway. Facing that fear. Learning to stand through it—despite it. That's how you overcome it."
His eyes met mine, steady and unwavering. Something complex flickering in them I couldn't make sense of.
"You know what we call that?"
I didn't answer. Couldn't.
I just shook my head.
"Courage."
He squeezed my shoulder slightly.
"Will… you're one of the most courageous people I know."
My eyes widened.
I couldn't breathe.
I didn't know what to say.
But somehow—somehow…I felt like maybe… just maybe… I could believe him.
— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —
Present:
I'm scared.
I'm scared!
The goggles were my only armor and protection… Without them, it's hard to even move.
I want to leave.
I want to run away…
But! I'm more scared of losing my friends.
And it was for that reason Will Serfort forced his body to move—charging forward.
Not to the exit, but toward his companions, who were buying time for their escape.
He barely caught the looks of surprise on Wignall's and Lihanna's faces as he darted between them, straight toward the monstrous Evil Grand Duke.
Gritting his teeth, the swordsman in a world of magic had an epiphany.
A realization of what his shishō had been trying to teach him.
Ki is a technique—reading the life force of others and oneself through breath, eye movement, sound, subtle gestures, posture, and muscular tension.
That was the baseline for sensing Ki.
But Ki could also be used—physically—to manipulate the body.
Will Serfort shut his eyes as the Duke swung one of its colossal, demonic arms at him.
Its razor-sharp nails threatened to skewer the boy.
Yet Will paid no heed to his impending doom.
He focused inward.
On his legs. His feet.
The life force there and there alone.
Crack!
A rush of pain overtook him as he felt something break—bones, muscles—contracting violently.
But Will Serfort blurred forward.
He was already fast as wind, but to his companions, he now looked as if he had teleported.
In an instant, he was twelve feet in the air—right at the Duke's calves.
Crack!
Contracting the muscles in his arms, he swung his sword with everything he had.
"Aughhh!!"
The Duke let out a banshee's cry as a massive chunk of flesh flew off its right leg, bringing it to its knees.
The others watched in awe as Will landed.
Forcing his brain to ignore the excruciating pain screaming through his body, he dashed forward—mercilessly—at the demon.
The Duke's leg was already beginning to stitch itself back together.
But Will was faster.
Sensing his approach, the demon began charging another devastating magical beam in its maw.
It spread its iron wings wide.
Boom!
It fired the destructive purple beam straight at Will, just as it prepared to take flight.
"Pebble Shot!"
Thump!
"Grr!!"
The Duke let out an annoyed grunt as massive, spiked boulders slammed into its back, forcing it to stay on its feet.
Will spotted the caster.
Colette! Julius, Wignall, and Lihanna are out of commission… So it's just me and her!
Bam!
He batted the incoming magical beam aside with his sword like a baseball bat, blasting apart a chunk of the nearby wall.
But that was only the beginning.
Several magical circles flared into existence behind the Duke.
Just like before—when his goggles were destroyed—it unleashed a barrage of homing, missile-like beams.
The difference this time: Will didn't have Kiki to shield him.
And he didn't trust the ring to save him again.
That remote circle felt like a one-off.
Others would panic.
But Will didn't.
The Grand Duke didn't know that Will had an innate ability—he could memorize and adapt to attack patterns after seeing them just once.
And with Ki on top of that… well…
He moved like a seasoned acrobat through a lethal obstacle course.
He ducked, weaved, sidestepped, flipped—fluid and precise.
The beams redirected, relentlessly chasing him down.
But it was like he had eyes in the back of his head.
He manipulated their paths, drawing them along until they slammed into the floor one after another.
Boom!
Boom!
Boom!
Boom!
Explosion after explosion tore through the dungeon floor.
A storm of fire and smoke engulfed the area where Will had been, momentarily blinding the Duke.
As the haze cleared, there was nothing left—except Will's sword, buried upright in the ground.
The Duke smiled.
Vicious.
Victorious.
Wignall's, Lihanna's, and Julius' hearts skipped a beat.
But Colette, having complete faith in her friend, looked skyward.
And then she saw it.
Falling directly above the unsuspecting demon—Will.
He raised his hands, shooting Colette a single look.
And she understood.
She pointed her Earthsoul wand toward him.
Her Bloodseal bracelet glowed at her wrist.
Then she cast the spell he needed most in that moment.
Something only Earth mages—true experts of magecraft—could grant.
A weapon.
"Roar, o cliffs of iron!"
"Rend, o teeth of the ravine!"
A magic circle—woven from interlinked and overlapping squares—flared before her.
A much larger one mirrored it above Will.
Zzt.
I'll give him everything I have left!
She completed a legacy spell—one that belonged to her fallen house, invented by one of her ancestors.
"Loire Sique: Golterre!"
A massive broadsword, perfectly sculpted from earth, dropped into Will's waiting hands.
With inhuman strength—his muscles once again forcibly constructed through Ki—he swung downward.
The momentum, the angle, the surprise—none of it gave the Duke time to react.
"Graahh!"
It roared in agony as one of its prized iron wings was cleaved clean off.
Like a knife through butter.
Blood rained from the wound as the monster collapsed to one knee.
Furious, it fired another magical beam at Will and Colette, carving out a wide arc of destruction.
"Hngh?!"
"Aah?!"
The two were sent flying.
Will managed to skid to a stop.
Colette rolled, bouncing across the ground like a pebble skipping over a lake.
The Grand Duke, now bearing three gaping wounds and resembling a zombie more than a lord, began stomping toward Will.
Not good… I can't feel my legs…
Will tried to force himself to move as the Duke began charging another beam.
But it was difficult.
All the pain from earlier was finally catching up to him.
He stood, trembling—too slow.
Whoosh!
"O Embers! Last remnants of the dead city!"
"?!"
Everyone snapped their heads to the side.
Sion was descending through the air, riding a spell made of flames shaped like a falcon.
His guardian spell—Halcon Gardinas.
Clutching his wand, fire blazing in his eyes, he continued to chant.
"I bid thee recall the searing flames that reduced thee to ashes!"
"I bid thee remember the ruinous flames dancing upon the blackened earth!"
"Now take thy burning grief for a bygone home and let it consume my foe!"
Boom!
The Duke, sensing danger, turned and fired the magical beam at Sion instead.
The Ulster heir didn't flinch.
He jumped off his guardian midair and sent it charging into the beam.
Bam!
The guardian and the spell collided—canceling each other out in a deafening explosion.
Smoke swallowed the field.
For a moment, Sion vanished.
Then he landed, wand pointed skyward, facing the demon head-on.
He shouted—not for the Duke—but for a certain No-Talent watching nearby.
"If you can do it, so can I!"
"Iflamme Burdelyon!"
Broom!
A massive explosion of fire burst from the tip of his wand, engulfing the Duke in a sea of flames.
The impact hurled the monster backward as it howled in pain.
It hit the ground hard, rolling, slapping at the fire to extinguish it.
Yet none of the students cheered.
Only silence.
Only despair.
No… even that didn't kill it?!
Sion hit it with an advanced spell at point-blank range and it still…
What kind of monster…
A wand wasn't enough.
A sword didn't seem up to the task either.
They were exhausted—nearly drained completely.
Out of moves, out of plans.
And most importantly, they were running dangerously low on time.
What were they supposed to do—
Ding.
Will blinked.
Something fell beside him.
A shard of ice.
He didn't know where it came from, but he knew one thing for certain.
It didn't belong here.
All of Julius' ice had already been destroyed or melted.
And this one looked different.
Felt different.
Felt familiar.
Despite death looming over him, Will couldn't resist the urge.
He reached for it.
The moment his fingers touched the shard, he froze.
Up on a nearby cliff, unnoticed, stood a blonde-haired figure.
Androgynous, unreadable.
He looked down and mumbled softly,
"Remember, Will… it's wand and sword…"
Then he snapped his head to the side.
His gaze sharpened—he sensed something.
Multiple presences, closing in from three different tunnels.
And just as silently as he had appeared, he slipped away.
Back into the shadows.
Vanishing from sight.
— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —
Thump.
Thump.
Will's blood pounded faster.
His mind—and the world around him—began to shake and fall apart.
Huh? What is this…?
He saw a beautiful girl with crystal-blue hair, slumped unconscious against a cracked wall.
A dungeon-like room—completely alien, yet somehow familiar.
E-Elfie?!
He called out to her, but the scene changed.
Now she was just a little girl, back when they were no more than snot-nosed five-year-olds at the orphanage.
But it wasn't right.
Elfaria was bruised, scraped, bleeding—curled up at the base of a tree.
Her eyes shimmered with tears as a flash of bright white light surged in front of her.
Elfie!!!
Will screamed again, his heart aching more than his head.
All of this felt too familiar.
But he couldn't remember any of it.
Then the scene shifted once more.
This time, he didn't see his childhood friend.
Instead, a towering pillar rose high into the sky.
I-Is that the tower?
It looked plainer than he remembered.
At its base, across a grassy field and divided by a table, stood a small, cloaked figure.
Will guessed it was a boy—short, with youthful skin just visible under the hood.
Across from him sat a woman on what seemed like either a really fancy chair or a throne.
Her eyes were hidden behind her hair, and she wore a strange gothic gown—part mourning veil, part bridal dress.
Will's chest tightened.
He didn't know why, but he felt an aching need to be near her.
In the woman's lap rested a pudgy newborn, smiling brightly.
She stroked the infant's cheek—blankly, yet maybe… lovingly.
Will's thoughts froze.
Wait… is that—
"Are you sure about this, ████████?"
The cloaked figure spoke, cutting through his mind.
And just like that, Will wasn't sure the person was a boy anymore.
The voice was far too deep.
"Must you keep asking?"
The woman's reply was calm, her name strangely… censored.
Her voice alone stirred a deep yearning inside him.
"I've made up my mind," she continued, gently stroking the baby's head.
She smiled faintly.
And Will could just barely see the cloaked figure do the same.
"This is all to protect our world… I pray that one day, wand and sword shall join as one."
— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —
Thump!
Will's heartbeat steadied as he snapped out of the vision.
Refocusing on the present, he saw the Grand Duke already back on its feet, the flames that once engulfed it now snuffed out.
Will turned toward the first name that came to mind.
The only one he believed still had magic left—and the will to use it.
"Sion!"
The red-haired noble turned just in time to see Will limping in his direction.
"Cast a spell! We need to combine wand and sword!"
There was no hesitation. No confusion.
Instead, Sion felt something rise from deep within him—a strange and inexplicable clarity.
Before he realized it, his wand was already raised.
Will hobbled past him, charging straight at the Duke.
"Ignis Rook!"
A spiral of fire trailed after Will.
He extended his arm, letting the spell strike his sword.
And that's when it happened.
Instead of the Moria Blade cleaving through the magic like it normally would, the flames coiled around it—twirling, dancing like an enchantment.
Fwoom.
Then, the blade absorbed the spell.
It transformed—becoming a sword wreathed in flames.
Far away, Professors Workner and Edward sped through a tunnel on a skyracer.
They watched the entire scene unfold through a magic ball, linked to the familiar Workner had entrusted to Will.
Kiki, the carbuncle, broadcasted it through the gem in her forehead.
The two professors—both elite mages from the Tower, former high ranking members of the Dark and Wind factions—recognized the phenomenon immediately.
It can't be… Mageblade: Wis?!
The students stood stunned.
"It ate the spell?!" Wignall murmured in disbelief.
"Flunkee… you…"
Will didn't hear Sion.
A strange sensation was taking over him.
Strength.
Pain and exhaustion vanished as he broke into a sprint.
Unprecedented clarity flooded his mind. Calm settled over him like a second skin.
Boom!
The Duke fired another magic beam.
This time, Will didn't need to use Ki.
He didn't dodge with a grand or desperate motion—he simply sidestepped.
Just enough.
The beam grazed past him, like a breeze brushing his hair.
He moved like an adult brushing aside a tantruming child's flung toy.
His vision, once dim, now burned red.
And in that red—he saw everything.
For a moment, he felt like a Lyzance.
A strange power surged through his veins.
Is this… what it feels like to wield magic?
But he didn't let his thoughts drift too far.
The feeling was already fading.
So he ran.
The Duke fired another volley of beams, and Will did the impossible.
He leapt from them.
Using the magic blasts as footholds, he bounded higher and higher, until he was eye-to-eye with the Evil Grand Duke.
For the first time, fear entered the demon's gaze.
The roles had reversed.
It knew—now it was the prey.
But whether that was a blessing or a curse, it would be the last thing the Duke would ever feel.
Like a machine with a single directive, Will whispered the phrase that came unbidden to his mind.
"Fully Charged: Ignis Wis."
Sizzle!
A searing arc of flame carved through the Duke, cleaving it from skull to sole in a perfect vertical line.
Its brain fried.
For a moment, its heart remained whole.
Only for a moment.
Will's left eye gleamed with blinding light—
Then the heart cracked.
And shattered.
Obliterated.
The room was silent.
Only the soft crackling of flames danced across the scorched earth.
Will's companions stared at him, their gazes a mixture of shock, joy, and relief.
But the swordsman felt none of that.
Only the emptiness.
The power that had just surged through him—the high that made him feel invincible—was vanishing fast.
His knees gave out, and he slumped forward, glancing back at his companions.
No... his friends.
He smiled.
Finally, we can go h—
"Grooar!"
"Grrr!"
"Rawwr!!"
He froze.
So did they.
Like statues, they stiffly turned their heads—
—and dread consumed them.
They were surrounded.
Evil Guards.
Evil Sentinels.
The entire horde they'd tried to avoid by confronting the Duke directly.
Maybe they'd been drawn by the noise.
Maybe the Duke had summoned them after first being wounded.
Either way, they were here now.
And they spelled certain doom.
None of the students had anything left.
No magic.
No strength.
Pain crashed back into Will all at once, and he collapsed to the ground with a twitch, paralyzed.
He couldn't feel his arms or legs.
Lihanna panicked, yanking something out from beneath her cloak—a silver amulet, shaped like a dagger or short sword, hanging from a chain.
She gritted her teeth.
She was ready to activate it.
But… nothing.
No magic. Not even a spark.
She lacked even the miniscule power to trigger it.
Despair crushed her again.
Dammit… dammit!
The others realized it too.
Is this fate? No matter what we do… are we destined to die here?!
Sion forced himself upright, gripping his wand with trembling hands.
He tried.
He tried—but not even a flicker of flame formed.
Snuffed out before it could even live.
Like hope itself.
Dammit!!
— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —
"Go faster, Workner!!!" Edward screamed, desperation cracking his voice as his oldest friend pushed the skyracer to its absolute limit.
Wind howled around them, the magic beast shrieking in protest.
Workner's eyes darted to the magic ball—and his heart froze.
It's no use. We're not going to make it in time…!
He shut his eyes, unable to bear the impending tragedy.
— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —
"Eek! S-Stay away!"
Julius's voice cracked as a towering sentinel reached for him, its blade gleaming.
"Julius!!"
Will's voice tore from his throat, his eyes brimming with panic as the monster raised its massive sword.
It was going to cleave Julius in half.
None of them could move.
Not a soul.
They stood—or sat—paralyzed, helpless, watching death descend upon their friend.
Until—
They heard them.
Two voices.
From above.
One from either side of the canyon, where the cliffs towered over their battlefield.
One voice was ancient. Solemn. Commanding.
The other—youthful. Sharp. Cold.
"Render judgment, Sage-King, vanisher of evil—Loi Eluza!"
"Sea's core, crystallize. Draconic pulse, condense. Water, take my form—Mariorbis Silva!"
Faster than even sound, faster than thought—
BOOM.
Will's eyes widened. He alone could track the movements.
In an instant, the entire horde of Evil Guards and Sentinels was annihilated—
Erased.
Not even ashes remained.
Just vapor trails where annihilation spells had carved through space—
And massive orbs of compressed water smashing down like meteors.
"W-What…?" Julius stammered, still alive, trembling.
"Advanced annihilation spells…?"
"But who could have—"
His voice trailed off.
Everyone looked up.
Their saviors had arrived.
Instinctively, everyone turned toward the source of the light—drawn by its solemn, almost divine presence.
And there they stood.
An entire pack of cloaked figures.
All but one wore full gear fit for deep dungeon expeditions.
They were uniform in appearance—each clad in white diamond-patterned robes and matching masks. Even the one who chose not to hide his face.
His presence drew Wignall's attention and Wignall's alone.
Two, however, stood out to the others.
Their cloaks weren't white. At least not the same shade. They didn't match.
One was tall, wrapped in a pristine desert-white mantle.
Not that anyone in Paradise knew what a desert was. Not anymore anyways.
The other—tiny and almost comically small—wore a ragged brown cloak, a massive pack strapped over his hunched shoulders.
Will's breath hitched at the sight of the figure.
Still, most attention focused on the tall figure.
He held a magnificent staff—white, gold, and yellow—radiating with refined light and holy enchantment.
His presence, his staff, and his silent entourage said enough.
The students gasped in collective disbelief.
Behind them, Workner and Edward landed—only to drop to one knee without hesitation, mirroring their students.
The tall figure slowly lifted his hood.
A mane of thick blond hair spilled out, followed by a rugged beard and cold, wise blue eyes—each layered with shifting magical arrays.
It was undeniable.
The Wand of Light.
The King of Magia Vander.
Leader of Masterias Noah—
Aaron Masterias Oldking.
And yet—he said nothing.
Instead, his eyes drifted.
Not to them, not to their kneeling forms—but past them.
Across the room.
It was only then they remembered: they hadn't been saved by just one spell.
All heads turned, following the king's gaze.
And they froze again.
There, standing at the opposite side of the room, was a lone woman in a silver dress, arms crossed.
No mask. No insignia.
Just presence.
No one recognized her.
No one… except Will.
His breath hitched.
Eyes wide, pupils trembling in shock and surprise.
"…Mrs. Silva…?"
His whisper echoed through the silent dungeon—and into everyone's ears.
— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —
Author's Notes:
[1] Damn that took a long time, anyways finally we can move on to parts I'm more excited for.
[2] Feel free to join the discord: https://discord.gg/s3MME8X8ar