Within the Astral World, Goldstein's orange-brown mana surged to almost incomprehensible levels. It pulsed rhythmically, like a heartbeat, shooting outward before recoiling back into his body. Each time it extended, it grew more golden, a clear signal to his deepening fusion with the Great Elemental Spirit of the Earth, Gnome.
His very essence transformed—presence, aura, posture, and demeanor alike. It was as though he had become heaven's chosen, a being cherished by mana itself, elevated beyond mortal concerns and petty conflicts, existing solely to fulfill a higher purpose.
The blinding light enveloping his figure began to fade, revealing him in his post-transformation state. His mana, now a resplendent gold, receded inward, leaving behind a figure that seemed reborn. Goldstein's already impressive frame, tall and broad, had grown even more imposing—towering at nearly seven feet, his physique bulkier, his muscles more pronounced, his six-pack unmistakable.
Gone were his tattered clothes, replaced by a suit of brownish, full-body armor forged from smooth, rocky earth. Its surface was pristine, as though it had been refined in fire countless times, free of cracks or imperfections. The armor had a distinct dwarven quality, covering every inch of him except the crown of his head. There, his once neatly groomed blonde hair had turned bronze and shaggy.
The upper half of his face was masked, save for two eye slits, through which his sapphire eyes now glowed a striking gold. Remarkably, his armor seemed to mold itself tightly around his abs, emphasizing their definition. Bright orange lines sprouted from a glowing orb embedded above his abdomen. These lines spread across his body, tracing the veins of his arms and legs, pulsing with a fiery, liquid energy.
The lower half of his face was uncovered, revealing a nose that had become slightly squarer and a beard, once neatly groomed, now longer and tinted bronze to match his hair.
In his right hand, Goldstein wielded a massive, smooth orange-brown poleaxe adorned with cryptic golden sigils. From the middle of his broad back extended a pair of smooth, angelic wings made of earthen material. Above his head floated a restored golden crown, now carrying a coppery sheen, hovering like a halo.
King Goldstein—no, Saint Goldstein—had fully assimilated with Gnome.
He began walking toward Alden, his footsteps heavy, steady, and unhurried. In the Wizard King's vision, Goldstein appeared to fluctuate between a physical form and a mass of pure mana. With each step, Alden felt the gravity around him multiply a hundredfold, making it difficult to move or even breathe.
This isn't intentional, Alden realized, just the byproduct of his fusion with Gnome. If he wanted to, he could make the gravity unbearable.
Alden's gaze shifted downwards to The Fool card in his hand. His eyes narrowed as he clutched it tightly, and the card dissolved into motes of light that shot straight into his chest.
The Wizard King began to glow, a soft, pure white. It wasn't an overwhelming transformation like Goldstein's—no blinding spectacle, no ambient mana bending to his will. It was a mere glow, steady and unassuming, like a gently brightened lightbulb.
It should have been anything but intimidating yet the hairs on Goldstein's back stood on end. In an instant, the unfathomable aura he carried—the one that set him above all people and conflicts—vanished. His composure shattered as he gripped his poleaxe with both hands and lunged forward.
At a speed nearly impossible to track, Goldstein crossed 100 meters before even a fraction of a millisecond had passed. He appeared directly in front of Alden and swung his poleaxe without hesitation, aiming to cleave the man's head from his shoulders.
But just as the blade was about to slice into the left side of Alden's neck, Goldstein's pupils contracted sharply.
What the?!
He was back where he had started—100 meters away, as if he had never moved.
Before he could even begin to process what had happened, Alden's voice echoed across the space, shifting unnervingly between youthful, ancient, and ageless tones.
"This is my world. I am no god here, capable of granting life or death on a whim to anything or anyone within this dimension. But shifting coordinates in space? That is well within my means."
Goldstein froze. As he watched, the radiant white light encasing Alden's body began to flake away like a crumbling shell, revealing the man beneath. When the transformation completed, Goldstein stiffened, his breath catching in his throat.
The elderly, exuberant form of Alden Arcana, which had belied a vitality far beyond his years, was gone. In its place stood a much younger man. And Goldstein, attuned as he currently was to mana, could tell that this was no illusion or transformation magic—it was real.
By some unimaginable means, Alden had turned back the clock on his body by nearly five decades. He looked no older than twenty, standing in the prime of his life.
His simple cyan fur coat had transformed, now adorned with intricate embroidery, and the white fur had been replaced with aqua, perfectly matching his rejuvenated hair, now entirely free of silver. His face was slender and smooth, his flawless skin enviable even to the fairest woman. His Tudor-style clothing had evolved into something far more regal, noble, and ornate.
The only part of him that remained unchanged was his eyes. They were still ancient, wise, and piercing, belonging to someone who had thoroughly experienced life and the world.
Yet Alden radiated no overwhelming force, no grand aura of power. And that was precisely what unnerved Goldstein to his core. In his current state, Goldstein was hyper-sensitive to mana, yet he felt absolutely nothing from Alden—as though the man were entirely powerless, a mere manaless human.
That realization nearly made Saint Goldstein take a step back.
Alden smiled softly, his expression carefree and disarming, as though Goldstein were not even worth considering as a threat. The casual ease of that smile sent a flicker of doubt through the Diamond King's heart, but he quickly suppressed it. The saintly power coursing through him drowned out those feelings of fear and uncertainty. He straightened his stance, held his ground, and opened his mouth.
"How?" Goldstein asked simply, his voice firm.
Alden's soft smile didn't waver, and he offered no reply.
Before Goldstein could demand an answer, the voice of the woman who had drawn him and his forces into this strange world resounded again. Her tone was both monotone and harmonious, as though she were speaking and singing simultaneously.
"The Fool is the beginning. The World is the end. Just as The Fool can reach its end, The World can return one to its roots and beginning, letting The Fool rise once more."
Alden's smile deepened slightly. "This," he said, gesturing to himself, "is how I looked when I first joined the Magic Knights. My prime, coincidentally or not. I suppose this could be considered the true beginning for someone who eventually became the Wizard King."
Goldstein scrutinized him for a moment, his piercing gaze unwavering. Then his thunderous voice echoed across the Astral World.
"That must be forbidden magic." It was not a question but a statement.
Alden's casual smile remained as he replied, "Yes, it is."
Goldstein's grim expression shifted, his lips curling upward into a triumphant grin. "Hah! Alden, you fool. Right now, you may be stronger than me, but I am indestructible. You've burned through your life to achieve that power. You'll die very soon. All I have to do is outlast you. The me right now could survive even the apocalypse! It's my victory!"
Alden's smile didn't falter. His eyes closed, and his expression shifted, resembling that of a certain shadow mage in the not-so-maybe-so-distant future. It was a smile, but it wasn't.
"You want to test that theory?"
Before Goldstein could respond, his pupils dilated sharply as Alden disappeared from his spot. He left no flicker or afterimage, moving so quickly that his presence seemed to vanish entirely.
Goldstein stiffened and glanced downward. Alden stood directly in front of him, smiling. His right arm was outstretched, palm glowing red, pressed squarely against the orb embedded in Goldstein's chest.
Before Goldstein could react, Alden spoke a single word, his voice soft and nonchalant.
"Strength."
For the briefest moment, Goldstein saw the faint, illusionary image of a woman gently stroking a lion's head. Then he heard a sharp crack. The orb in his chest fractured, splintering like fragile glass.
Before he could fully register what just happened, Goldstein was sent hurtling backward, his body crashing across the vast, earthen landscape that Gnome had created.
Digging his poleaxe into the ground, Goldstein managed to slow his momentum, tearing up massive chunks of earth before coming to a halt.
He raised his gaze to Alden, trembling slightly, before his stomach churned. His throat burned, and he could no longer suppress the blood rising within him. Goldstein spat out a thick mouthful of crimson, the metallic taste flooding his mouth.
It had been two years since Goldstein bonded with Gnome—two years of invulnerability, of standing untouchable when partnered with the Earth Spirit. And now, with a single, casual blow, Alden had broken through that, while Goldstein was in Saint Stage of all things.
Goldstein wiped the blood from his mouth, and as he did, the fractured orb in his chest restored itself instantly, mending as though it had never been damaged.
Without a word, Goldstein began to glow. His form expanded rapidly, enlarging several times over until he stood a towering 100 feet tall giant. His poleaxe grew to match his colossal size, and with a mighty heave, he swung it down toward Alden, aiming to crush him in a single strike.
Goldstein wasn't foolish enough to play a waiting game, hoping for Alden's life force to burn out, while he ran or evaded. He knew he couldn't keep up with Alden's speed, especially given the latter's ability to warp his location at will. Evading and stalling were strategies doomed to fail.
Each of the four Great Elemental Spirits excelled above the others in some areas but at the same time had their own weaknesses. Salamander had negligible recovery power. Sylph was defensively frail. Undine's offensive power, while elegant, lacked the sheer lethality of the others. And Gnome? Gnome was the slowest.
If there was a score card, Gnome's stats would be like this, speed ranked fourth, attack third, healing second, and defence first.
He was pretty much a great punching bag. A self restoring punching bag.
Even so, Goldstein didn't retreat into a defensive shell, relying on Gnome's famed "absolute defense." That single strike from Alden had already shattered his unshakable faith in his own invincibility. The concept of "absolute" suddenly felt fragile—though, in fairness, much of that had been due to Alden catching him off guard, but Goldstein would not be Goldstein if he didn't trust his instinct and went careless.
It was said that a good offense was the best defense. That philosophy was why Terran—the previous wielder of Gnome's power—had been crowned the Greatest Shield. Terran hadn't relied solely on his nigh-invincibility to cower behind walls or domes of earth. Instead, he had marched onto the battlefield like a tank, shattering invaders and wrongdoers alike, driving them out with sheer force.
Goldstein chose to follow that same principle. He immediately took the initiative, responding with a crushing attack of his own. By staying aggressive and keeping Alden on the defensive, Goldstein aimed to waste Alden's precious, limited time and secure victory.
It was a logical strategy, grounded in sound reasoning—if one assumed that Alden Arcana would choose to evade or defend when faced with a titan's blow.
But Alden Arcana was not one to back down.
When faced with fire, Alden responded with fire of his own.
In Alden's right hand, a faceless, blank card materialized, its back as black as night. He gripped it lightly between his index and middle fingers, as though it were weightless. With a flick of his wrist, he sent the card spinning like a frisbee toward the descending poleaxe.
As it flew, the card expanded to about twice the size of Alden, spinning rapidly in the air. It curved gracefully toward the titanic weapon, meeting it with a decisive strike. The card cleaved through the poleaxe under its blade, severing the head from the rod as effortlessly as a hot knife slicing through butter.
But the blank card did not stop there. It began to glow, taking on a grid-like pattern before splitting into 78 smaller cards. Each card shot outward, a whirling storm of sharp edges, converging on the giant-sized Goldstein from countless angles.
The smaller cards grew as they neared their target, reaching half the size of the original. They sliced through Goldstein's massive form with surgical precision. Fingers were severed. Ankles were cut clean. Arms were separated at the elbows. The core of his body was dissected, and his neck was neatly divided. His face was diced into a hundred fragments.
Alden's expression remained impassive, devoid of joy or malice. There was no scream of pain from Goldstein, no blood, no gore—only the sensation of rock crumbling under a blade.
Alden's green eyes narrowed, focusing on a tiny speck of falling earth amidst the debris of the titan's collapse. With a snap of his fingers, the speck shimmered and reappeared before him, glowing.
The glow faded to reveal the 7-foot Saint Goldstein, now restored and wielding a broad hammer. Without hesitation, Goldstein swung the weapon squarely at Alden's head, his body visibly trembling and sweat streaming down his face.
Alden raised a single finger, glowing faintly red, to meet the incoming hammer.
The moment the hammer collided with his finger, it shattered into countless pieces, disintegrating like fragile glass. Alden's finger continued upward, unimpeded, aiming for Goldstein's forehead.
Goldstein's eyes widened in panic. Reacting instantly, he manipulated the earth beneath his feet, morphing the terrain. The ground rose and fell like waves, reshaping the landscape as he distanced himself from Alden, retreating over 200 meters in a blink. He now stood atop a newly-formed cliff, high above the battlefield.
Stretching both arms outward, Goldstein's body glowed a radiant gold. A transparent, circular dome materialized around Alden, enclosing him at the center like a singularity point.
From all directions within the dome, gravity intensified a thousandfold. The force crushed Alden's body relentlessly, his bones audibly cracking and splintering. His form distorted, compressed into something flat and unrecognizable, like a figure squished into two dimensions.
Goldstein's shoulders sagged with a brief sigh of relief—until he noticed the faint image of the Fool card shimmering behind Alden.
Then, the impossible happened.
The space surrounding Alden visibly cracked, the fractures spidering outward like shattered glass. The dome of crushing gravity shattered alongside it, breaking apart to reveal Alden, standing pristine and unaffected. His youthful appearance remained unaltered, as if nothing had ever happened.
As if everything before was just an illusion, eyes playing tricks on you.
Without wasting a moment Goldstein's fists morphed into cannon-like constructs. From their muzzles, beams of orange mana began gathering, drawn from the upper atmosphere in brilliant, glowing streams. With a deafening crack, a golden beam burst forth, spinning as it traveled. The twin beams spiraled around one another, combining into a massive, concentrated blast that streaked toward Alden at lightspeed.
Alden remained calm, extending his left hand. With a simple flick of his finger, a sharp gust of wind erupted from the motion. The air itself seemed to warp and twist as it raced forward.
The mana beam met the force of Alden's flick, and in an instant, it was parted and dissipated as though it were nothing more than smoke. The wind continued onward, shattering the cliff beneath Goldstein's feet and cracking the armor covering his body.
Goldstein didn't fall. He stood suspended in midair, as though his body refused to acknowledge the rules of gravity. His armor repaired itself swiftly, but his face twisted in anger and disbelief.
"How are you so strong?!" he roared, swiping a hand through the air. "If you've always had this kind of power, then why does my kingdom even still exist? Why am I alive? What were you waiting for?!"
Alden smiled but didn't answer. He had never doubted his ability to defeat Goldstein—his confidence in that had been unshakable. What had concerned him was whether he could kill Goldstein. That was why he had to lure him out and cast The World, locking him in this inescapable space where the fight could end decisively.
As for always being this strong? Alden wasn't. This was the pinnacle of his power—the strongest he had ever been.
In the world of magic, as people age, they gradually gain access to their full mana reserves. Most reach this peak between the ages of 15 and 25. Alden had reached it at 20—an entirely unremarkable age. Unless hindered by illness or injury, this period of peak mana access typically lasts into a mage's early or late forties.
After that, mana doesn't disappear all at once. Instead, it begins to diminish slowly as mages age, gradually depleting as they near the end of their lives.
By the age of 70, Alden had perhaps a third of his former mana—or maybe even less.
Yet growing older doesn't necessarily mean growing weaker. Many skilled magic knights develop new spells, techniques, and strategies over the years, improving their control and efficiency even as their mana reserves dwindle.
Alden Arcana, the 26th Wizard King, was no exception. By the time he reached 70, his grimoire was completely filled, his magical control had become godlike, and he had achieved a level of power several times greater than in his so-called "prime."
But now? Now, Alden had regained his youthful body, his peak mana reserves, while still carrying all the wisdom, knowledge, experience, and mastery he had accumulated over the years. The result was the most powerful version of himself—a man who could casually overpower the Saint in front of him.
Goldstein wasn't a fool. As a mage worthy and capable of assimilating with a greater spirit, he quickly deduced the truth. But that didn't make it any easier to accept. Even if Alden was at his strongest, how could the gap between them be so vast?
He couldn't understand it. Right now, he wielded all of Terran's so-called Greatest Shield and Absolute Defense, yet he was so easily dismantled by a man on death's door?
Are there gaps between Wizard Kings, was Terran a weakling?!
Goldstein felt cheated—betrayed even—by Gnome. The spirit who unceasingly boasted to him about his absolute power over the past years, yet was casually manhandled. And he wasn't entirely wrong.
Alden's gaze didn't linger on Goldstein. Instead, he looked upward, his eyes fixed on the astral world, marveling at the stars and cosmic bodies. He seemed to peer across dimensions, his mind's eye sweeping across the Clover Kingdom.
He saw the noble realm, the crowded common realm, and the desolate forsaken realm. His vision moved to Kiten, where his soldiers were fighting their last stand. He took it all in, his smile soft and nostalgic.
Finally, Alden raised his arm toward Goldstein. The latter immediately stiffened, instinctively moving to flee. But he couldn't. His body refused to respond, as if frozen in time and space.
Like the world itself was locking him in place.
Panic overtook him as he struggled against the invisible hold. When he realized escape was impossible, he shifted tactics, layering defense after defense around himself.
Hardened earth coalesced into an impenetrable shell, encasing him entirely. The shell shrank until it was no larger than a grain of rice, then grew again as hundreds of additional layers formed, creating a sphere nearly six meters in diameter.
This was Absolute Defense.
Alden was unperturbed. Behind him, four tarot cards materialized in midair—The Sun and The Moon, upright and glowing gold and blue, floated above him, radiating positivity and fear. Below them, reversed reflections of the same cards glowed red and black, exuding feelings of depression and release.
The celestial bodies floated out of the cards, shrinking as they aligned diagonally in front of Alden. They began to shift and overlap, merging into a single gray orb that oscillated between extremes.
At times, it burned bright like a star, exuding vitality. At others, it was dark and lifeless, a satellite on the brink of collapse. At times it was radiant, and at others, reflective. At times holy, at others mysterious. It was both and neither, embodying every state in between.
The orb froze, its oscillations ceasing, its surface now a uniform gray.
Alden pointed a single finger toward Goldstein's fortified shell. The orb slowly floated forward, its ominous glow unwavering.
Inside his defensive sphere, Goldstein frantically added more and more layers, but it was futile.
The last thing he heard before the world faded into oblivion was Alden's calm, steady voice:
"Mana Zone Full Release: Celestial Disharmony."
The gray orb gently touched Goldstein's shell.
The world was engulfed in a gray fog, and then there was nothing.
—
"How…?"
Gnome, now impish in size, his transparent form flickering as though on the verge of vanishing, floated in the empty expanse of space alongside the similarly ghostly figure of Alden.
Alden smiled softly, parting his lips to speak. "You know why. Goldstein, before meeting you, was Captain-level at best. Maybe he wouldn't even match up to Nathaniel or Ignatius."
Well maybe not Nathaniel with his current condition… Alden lamented inwardly.
Gnome's faint light trembled as Alden continued. "But Lord Terran? Even without you, he was Wizard King level—barely, perhaps, but still Wizard King level. And for a spirit host to achieve Saint Stage, their thoughts and minds must be in perfect synchronization with their spirit partner. Deep down, you've only ever viewed Lord Terran as your true partner. Due to your innate refusal to completely assimilate with him, Goldstein was no real Saint."
Alden paused, his expression calm yet slightly humorous. "Maybe he was ninety percent there. Quasi-Saint would be a better title. But even setting that aside, he was barely a third as strong as Lord Terran. Is it really so shocking for me to defeat such a weakling?"
Gnome fell silent, the flickering of his form slowing. Gradually, both he and Alden grew more defined in the empty space. After a long pause, the spirit whispered, "Even so… even if Lord Terran himself were here, I still think he'd lose to you. Why are you so strong?"
Alden shrugged, cracking a grin. "It's the duty of successors to surpass their predecessors. That's what the previous Wizard King told me when he passed the mantle to me. He was ashamed he couldn't match up to Lord Terran and hoped I would do so—and more. Looks like I haven't let him down."
An intense flicker of emotion crossed Gnome's eyes before he steadied his voice to ask, "So… you're the strongest Wizard King yet?"
Alden hesitated, then shook his head with a sundded look of somberness. "I'd like to say I am… but even at my peak, I don't think I could best Lemiel's successor."
Gnome blinked, then bit his lip, forcing himself past the current subject and shook his head fiercely. "I won't give up! It doesn't matter if your successor is stronger than you or weaker—one day, I swear I'll destroy the Clover Kingdom! I'll avenge Terran—"
"No, you won't."
Alden's interruption was firm but devoid of ridicule. There was no condescension in his tone, only a faint, bittersweet pity. "Spirits are effectively immortal. One day, you'll be reborn—but that's all. You'll start over as an infant spirit, a blank slate with no memories or understanding of this world. You won't be you anymore. You won't remember Terran. There will be no love in your heart for him, nor hatred for Clover. Your revenge ends here, Gnome."
Tears welled in Gnome's eyes as he let out a high-pitched roar, clenching his tiny fists. "No! Never! I—I'll never forget Terran! N-never!"
Alden stayed silent, watching the tiny figure cry. Finally, Gnome's voice broke, hoarse and bitter. "It's not fair! Terran worked so hard, gave your people so much! Why couldn't he just live out his last moments in peace? Why?!"
Alden's gaze softened, a complex mixture of nostalgia and sadness flickering in his eyes. He spoke in a low, steady voice. "Twenty-six. Including me, there have been twenty-six Wizard Kings throughout history. Not one has died of natural causes. Not one has had a happy ending. And I doubt there ever will be."
"Because that's what a Wizard King is: a pillar. One that sacrifices everything for the kingdom, knowing it might spit on their sacrifice and bite the hand that feeds it."
A faint, bitter smile touched his lips. "There's a saying: the strongest and most powerful are often the true victims of the world. No matter how much they give, those beneath them will always harbor jealousy, envy, and fear."
He sighed. "It's tragic, frustrating, and repulsive. But that's human nature—a race led and misled by fear, blinded by prejudice. The Wizard King is no exception. Deep down, I think every one of us who accepted this mantle knew that."
Alden's voice softened further. "Lord Terran wasn't the first, and he won't be the last Wizard King betrayed by those he gave everything for. But I like to think… he wasn't disheartened by it. That he remained resolute to the end."
Gnome began to flicker again, motes of light breaking away from his form. Alden, too, began to fade, though his expression stayed steady.
"Tell me, Gnome. Despite everything… how did Lord Terran look in his final moments?"
The spirit's trembling grew as tears spilled down his face. "He… he saw me off with that same stupid, oafish grin."
Alden smiled. "Now I'd call that absolute defense."
Gnome wept as his body dissolved into nothingness, his head the last to fade. Just before he disappeared, he cried out urgently, "Diamond still has—"
But he was gone before he could finish.
Alden, now reduced to the upper half of his body, smiled more genuinely. "I know, Gnome. I already know. All the preparations are in place. This will end with Clover's victory."
Tilting his head upward, Alden gazed at a shining green star. He sighed. "I really wish I could've seen that dance… No matter. I'll have a front-row seat when I'm back… when we're all back."
With that, Alden and his grimoire faded into motes of light, scattering into the void.
On the 19th of June in the year 1601, Alden Arcana passed away. Shortly before his death, he bested one king, one spirit, seven generals, and five hundred soldiers single-handedly.
His end was the result of his own choices and machinations. He fell but was not defeated.
Until the very end, Alden upheld the ideal that while Wizard Kings are not almighty, they are absolute in one sense: they always get the job done.
—
Moments Before, Outside World:
Initially, the battle was going well for the Clover forces. The disoriented and disassembled Diamond army—reeling from the disappearance of their leaders and elites and reeling from Clover's well-executed ambush—was in no shape to fight against Clover troops who seemed to have thrown all caution to the wind, fighting as though their lives were already forfeit.
Even after regaining their composure, slicing through Dax's bindings, and countering Marcel's mud pit, the Diamond soldiers quickly found themselves overwhelmed.
Although many of Clover's troops had lost the blessing of strength, those who still retained it stood resilient. Furthermore, the blessing of luck provided crucial advantages. Clover's medical ward, darting and weaving across the battlefield with uncanny precision, managed to evade attacks and tend to their comrades in real-time.
From above, Sebastian flew over the chaos atop his water eagle, sending balls of enchanted water into the fray to patch up wounds and injuries among his allies.
But it didn't stop there. Miraculous coincidences seemed to occur repeatedly. Just as a Diamond soldier was about to deliver a fatal blow, they might trip, collide with an ally, or misfire—resulting in baffling chain reactions that decimated their own forces by the dozens. On the brink of death, Clover mages would suddenly discover new spells in their grimoires, perfectly suited to prolong the fight and push through adversity.
At the very heart of the battlefield, Vortigarn, Dax, and Acier (the latter still empowered by the blessing of strength) were completely unmatched. Diamond's forces had no captain-level combatants to oppose them. They were harbingers of death, cutting through the horde with brutal efficiency. The likes of Marcel, Lilly, Kaiser, and other elites only amplified Clover's edge.
However, the blessings would not last forever. One by one, the miraculous boons began to fade. Yet Sebastian and Acier remained unaffected, still exuding the unmistakable aura of their blessings. Their continued empowerment did not go unnoticed by the more perceptive among Clover's troops, but no one dared to voice their suspicions or misgivings amidst the ensuing conflict.
As the blessings waned, Clover's luck quite literally ran out. Diamond troops, now emboldened, targeted the medical ward with ruthless precision, cutting through their lifeline. Soon, only Owen and Sebastian remained standing—Owen nearly depleted of mana, and Sebastian unable to be everywhere at once.
Clover's forces began to falter.
Fast-forward a few minutes: Diamond's 800-strong army had been reduced to around 100, while Clover's original 80 had dwindled to roughly 30, including Sebastian and Owen. Despite their exhaustion and dwindling numbers, Clover still believed in their superior quality of troops and held onto the hope of ultimate victory—or at least taking every last Diamond soldier down with them.
That confidence was shattered as a new and to Clover uncalled for development that they could do without swept towards the battlefield.
From a distant horizon, the 8th Shining General, Yagos, approached on a broom, flanked by nearly 200 fresh Diamond troops in their signature hooded robes. Clover's soldiers realized they were soon to be outmatched nearly 10-to-1, something not very manageable with their current fatigue and exhaustion.
To make matters worse, both armies momentarily froze as their attention was drawn skyward. The illusionary card of The World—a projection that had loomed over the battlefield—began to flake away and disintegrate into dust.
Clover's morale, already fragile, nearly completely collapsed as it dawned on them: their king had fallen.
No matter how deeply some of them detested Alden, he was still their pillar and symbol, for him to fall, much less before them did not inspire confidence nor willpower.
No one in Clover hadn't grown up listening to tales of Wizard Kings, idolizing them, and worshipping them from their deepest souls. To Clover, Wizard Kings were supposed to be absolute, omnipotent, eternal, and unbeatable. Even these war veterans who knew very well that Alden was no such thing, who were prepared for this result the moment he said he was going to take Goldstein and more down with him, couldn't help but feel their heart freeze.
The Wizard King had fallen, Clover had lost their leader. They had lost 2 kings, two beloved monarchs within a year. Some of the weaker willed amongst them showed signs of festering panic and defeat.
Yet, the Diamond troops did not celebrate. Their own King and elite forces had not returned. They waited, yet none of their comrades returned. Both sides were momentarily struck by the finality of what the disappearing card symbolized.
Seizing the opportunity, the captains Acier and Lilly struck while Diamond's forces were distracted, pushing the numbers further in Clover's favor. By the time the skirmish resumed, it was 30 Clover soldiers against 50 Diamond soldiers. However, the small numerical advantage would mean little with Yagos and his reinforcements fast approaching.
Vortigarn clenched his jaw, his mind racing. With a sharp gesture, he swept up Diamond's remaining 50 troops into a focused breeze of wind, his arm and muscles veins visibly throbbing and popping as he shot Kaiser a wordless look.
The Gravorka heir didn't disappoint, using the last remnants of his mana, he unleashed one final spell to push the Diamond soldiers back toward their reinforcements, throwing them into the air like cannon balls with a swiftly appearing and vanishing tornado. The move forced Yagos and his troops to halt and scramble to save and catch their comrades.
Not wasting the precious window of time he'd created, Vortigarn snapped his head toward Clover's remaining soldiers, barking orders with urgent determination.
"Kaiser, you're done! Time to go home!"
Kaiser stiffened, the usually quiet boy furrowing his brows as confusion etched itself across his face. "Sir?! What are you talking about—"
"I said you're done!" Vortigarn cut him off sharply. Kaiser froze, his lips parting again in protest, only for Marcel to step in, placing a firm pat on his shoulder.
"We leave the Purple Orcas to you," The Vice-Captain said, his tone calm and near clinical.
The remaining members of the Purple Orcas—Glacius and the others—nodded curtly at Kaiser. His pupils dilated in shock, a mixture of disbelief and horror spreading across his face.
Dax's gaze shifted to his squad, stopping on a kneeling, panting blonde-haired woman who looked just as drained as Kaiser. Without hesitation, he pointed to her.
"Chloe, you're going back with Kaiser."
The girl froze mid-breath, then forced herself to stand. Her legs trembled as she slapped a hand against her chest in defiance. "I can still fight, sir—"
She didn't get the chance to finish. Lily, her older twin, moved with calm precision, delivering a swift karate chop to the back of Chloe's head. The younger girl collapsed, unconscious, before she could even register what had happened.
Gently, Lily picked up her sister and carried her to Kaiser, pressing Chloe into his arms. "Take her home," she commanded, her voice soft and uncharacteristically calm and collected.
Kaiser stared wide-eyed at the unconscious girl, his face pale. Slowly, he nodded, unable to summon any words.
Vortigarn glanced back toward the Diamond forces in the distance. They were beginning to reorganize. His expression hardened as he turned to Owen and Sebastian.
"You two as well," he ordered, his voice brooking no argument. "If you're caught trying to heal someone, you'll be killed immediately. There's no point in wasting your lives here. Go home. You have many more people to save in the future—you can only do that alive."
Owen trembled, shame written across his features as he bowed his head. He shuffled toward Kaiser, helping him support Chloe's weight.
But Sebastian didn't move. His defiance was etched into every inch of his stance as he met Vortigarn's gaze head-on. "I'm not going, sir."
"Yes, you are," Vortigarn growled, his tone a low warning.
Sebastian shook his head, gesturing toward Kaiser, Chloe, and Owen. "Unlike them, I haven't been given the right to leave the battlefield by Lord Alden. His orders were to fight to the death, and that's what I'll do—"
"Alden's dead!" Vortigarn's voice cracked slightly, his frustration cutting through the air. "I'm in charge now!"
The depression in his words and slight reddening of his eyes silenced the group, though Sebastian stood firm, his jaw clenched tightly.
Acier stepped between them, her lips trembling as she looked up at Sebastian. "Please—"
"Absolutely not!" Sebastian snapped, cutting her off. His voice trembled with suppressed emotion. "Are you leaving too?! Are you coming with me?!"
Because I'll go now, if you are!
Acier shook her head, gesturing to her still-glowing red aura. "The one person who doesn't get to leave is me."
Sebastian's eyes reddened as he spread his arms. Faint flickers of red light glimmered around him—a weaker but unmistakable remnant of the blessing of strength. "Then I stay too! If you're not going, neither am I!"
Acier's words failed her. Before anyone could respond, Dax stepped forward, placing a firm hand on Sebastian's shoulder.
"Listen, Sebastian… was it?"
Sebastian nodded reluctantly, and Dax continued, pointing toward Kaiser and the others. "As they are now, they can barely stand. If this line breaks, they won't get far. Diamond will catch up—they'll die, or worse. That eagle spell of yours can save them. Please, do it."
Before Sebastian could protest, Lily bowed deeply. "Please save my sister."
Glacius and Marcel followed suit. "You're a doctor, right? Save our teammates."
Sebastian's gaze flicked to Owen. It would've been easier if he didn't know him. But Owen was his closest thing to a friend since Acier, and Kaiser and Chloe were her friends. If they died, Acier would grieve—and he couldn't stand that.
"Please, Sebby," Acier whispered, tugging lightly at his sleeve, her voice trembling with desperation.
Sebastian gritted his teeth. Finally, he snapped his head toward Vortigarn. "I'll take them as far as Kiten—but then I'm coming right back!"
Vortigarn said nothing.
Acier opened her mouth to protest but stopped as Sebastian shot her a dark, almost hateful look. Swallowing hard, she stiffened as he leaned in close and whispered in her ear.
"Wherever you go, so will I. If you wish to die, I'll accompany you. If you live, I will too. So don't fucking die."
Her throat tightened, tears welling up as she nodded weakly.
Sebastian gave her one last look before spinning on his heel. His grimoire floated beside him, glowing faintly as a massive water eagle formed beneath his feet.
Vortigarn didn't waste a second. With a wave of his hand, a gust of wind lifted Kaiser, Owen, and the unconscious Chloe, setting them gently onto the eagle's back. Another powerful blast sent the construct soaring into the air, propelling it away from the battlefield.
Now only 26 remained. Twenty-five magic knights from the Purple Orcas and Blue Rose, and Acier herself.
They surged forward, splitting into unpredictable formations as they charged the reorganizing Diamond army from all angels imaginable. Some veered to their flanks, some were swept up by Vortigarn and shot over Diamond's troops like falling meteors, some burrowed under the ground, and some charged straight head on. Their movements were erratic, splitting attention and focus, creating chaos within the enemy ranks.
With chaos came opportunity—and that was all they needed. They had to make something out of nothing. They had to deliver Alden's so-called guaranteed victory.
Author's Notes:
[1] For Web Novel Readers, Goldstein's and Alden's designs can be found here, everyone else needs to access the discord to view them.
[2] This War arc portion of the dream should end in at most 2 chapters, though of course the aftermath may prolong itself throughout the dream
[3] Feel free to join the Discord! https://discord.gg/s3MME8X8ar
I know many of you aren't happy with the Dream Arc—how long it's been going and how long it will continue to go—hoping I'll end it. But I'll just say this bluntly: I won't.
When I first started this story, I never expected it to get this popular or generate as much traffic as it has. At first, that thrilled me. But then critics, like Ted on Web Novel, made me feel depressed. I couldn't understand how people could be so angry over a fanfic not going the way they wanted—especially since it didn't even cost them a cent to read.
Like, maybe just don't read it or something.
But then I realized that mindset was immature of me. Just because something is free and available doesn't mean people can't get invested or care about it, even if it's just a fanfic. If that weren't true, I think people would've bailed on me from day one—because of the AI.
So, I tried to write better. During that ten-day break, I took the time to plan out the story, at least for the rest of V1. The first few chapters after my return were major hits with everyone. But once we hit the Dream Arc, many bailed on me again, treating it like some irrelevant side story. That didn't make sense to me at all, but hey, do as you please.
Here's the thing, though: just as you're free to read or not read whenever you like, I'm free to write or not write as I like. So please stop asking me to drop the Dream Arc or how many chapters it'll take to finish. I understand it wasn't introduced in the best way, but I'm rather fond of it. I'm going to see it through, even if it costs me all my readers.
Because as much as I never expected people to get so invested in my story, I never expected to become so invested in writing it.
I can't please everyone, so I'll focus on doing what makes me happy. Fanfiction is my hobby to make dull days a little brighter. I'll see this Dream Arc through—and any potential future flashback arcs too.
Thank you. I hope you enjoy the chapter. And if you don't, that's your right too.
—
Acier was bloody tired. She was battered, bruised, and dizzy, her exhaustion clawing at the edges of her consciousness. She had lost count of how many lives she'd taken today—was it a hundred? Maybe two? She wasn't sure anymore.
Her body was a map of cuts, scars, and bruises—evidence of her so-called "luck." The only reason she was still alive was that the Diamond Kingdom wanted her captured, not killed. They planned to use her as a bargaining chip, a pawn in their strategy.
With their mounting losses, the Diamond forces knew even if they captured it they couldn't hold onto Kiten for long, not with the Crimson Lions or Silver Eagles poised to reclaim it any second. But with a princess of House Silva as their hostage? They could force Clover to surrender Kiten and more—or threaten the pride of her family and Clover royalty with a fate worse than death.
That decision was the only thing keeping Acier alive after her mana blessing had run dry. Her vast reserves, once seemingly endless, were now a parched riverbed. Her consciousness teetered, threatening to slip away entirely. The only thing grounding her in the chaos was the sound—the cacophony of battle.
The dying screams of her comrades echoed in her ears, a grim reminder of those who hadn't been "fortunate" enough to be marked for capture. Acier forced herself to stay focused, her eyes drawn to the heart of the battlefield.
There, she could see it: a swirling tornado of spikes and bursts of flame accompanied by a cackling laugh that sent shivers down many spines. But no frost. No mud. She hadn't seen those elements in what felt like an eternity.
Capturing Acier was costing the Diamond forces dearly, and they couldn't afford to waste resources capturing others. Clover soldiers, knowing the odds, fought like suicide bombers, throwing themselves into the fray to take as many enemies down with them as possible.
There's nothing more dangerous than someone with nothing to lose.
So Diamond took no chances with the rest, killing before they could be killed.
The only ones still standing besides Acier on Clover's side were the strongest, the elite—those who could endure this hell. Nearly wobbling, Acier leaned heavily on her spear, using it to steady herself as she surveyed her immediate surroundings.
A squad of about fifteen Diamond soldiers approached from multiple angles, their expressions a mix of solemn determination, fury, and fear. The mountain of Diamond corpses surrounding her was reason enough for their hesitation.
Many of those dead had fallen because Diamond forces couldn't afford to kill her, while Acier had no such restraint. As one of the strongest warriors on the battlefield, she had made them pay dearly for their attempts.
One lieutenant, clutching a bleeding shoulder and kneeling from exhaustion, glared at her. "Surrender now, Princess Acier, and you won't have to feel any more pain—"
He never finished. Acier hurled her spear like a javelin, the weapon piercing through his skull with brutal precision.
For a moment, the Diamond soldiers froze, stunned by the sudden death of their leader.
"This bitch!" one lanky soldier bellowed, his face twisting with fury. He extended his arms, a rocky axe materializing in his grasp as he charged forward, screaming, "Die—!"
He didn't get far. Muddy hands erupted from the earth, wrapping around his waist and holding him in place.
"Let me go!" he snarled, thrashing against the restraints.
A comrade silenced him with a finger sparking with lightning, jabbing it against his head. The lanky soldier screamed as his brain felt like it was frying, but the lightning mage pinned him down with no mercy.
"Stand down! We need her alive!" the lightning mage snapped.
"I don't give a damn! She just killed my brother!"
The lightning mage's expression hardened, his voice dropping into a cold, sharp tone. "General Yagos' orders. If you don't want to be executed, behave."
The lanky soldier bit his lip, seething but silent.
The lightning mage snorted and released him.
Acier used the momentary distraction to strike again, driving her blade through the mud mage who had restrained the lanky soldier. Another life taken.
The remaining Diamond troops turned their hate-filled gazes toward her, their fury palpable. They encircled her, their expressions promising pain.
We can't kill you, but we can make you wish we could.
General Yagos' orders were clear: she was to be brought in alive—but no one said she had to be intact.
Acier spit out a mouthful of blood, her lips curling into a grim line. Her hands trembled as silver gauntlets materialized around them, rough and unsteady, like they could crack at any moment, so unlike her.
She charged forward, more than happy to put the already hand tied Diamond on the defensive.
While she did none of them noticed the faint pink glow emanating from the satchel at her side.
—
Kaiser, Owen, and the unconscious Chloe lay on the back of Sebastian's water eagle as it soared through the sky. Sebastian urged his spell to move at maximum speed, pushing them toward Kiten with relentless determination.
As they entered the final stretch of their journey, Sebastian suddenly stiffened. A sensation—sharp and insistent—pulled at his side. Without hesitation, he reached for the satchel at his waist, feeling a resonance that churned uneasily in his stomach.
His fingers closed around the source of the sensation, and he brought it before his face. His breath caught in his throat.
The Lover's card in his hand, his half of the pair, was glowing blue.
Sebastian hadn't infused any mana into it, which meant only one thing. He remembered Alden's words about the card's connection, and his stomach sank as the realization hit him.
Clutching the card tightly, Sebastian felt the distant echo of a call—a plea for help that reached across the battlefield. It was faint, but unmistakable. He knew that mana signature better than anyone else's.
Acier.
Her mana had always been steady, bright, radiant—like a beacon cutting through the darkness. It was strong, noble, and all-encompassing. But now, it felt feeble, flickering like a dying ember.
The churn of panic in Sebastian's chest surged, but he shoved it down, his mind turning cold and pragmatic.
"Hold on, Acier," he muttered under his breath.
Without a word of explanation, he commanded the water eagle to descend sharply. The abrupt maneuver startled Kaiser and Owen, who scrambled to steady Chloe and keep her from falling.
The eagle landed with a heavy thud, its impact sending up a spray of dirt and debris. Sebastian immediately turned to face the duo, his expression unreadable and impassive.
"I need to go back. Now," he said firmly. "Get off."
Kaiser and Owen exchanged a brief, worried glance before nodding in silent understanding.
—
Acier had managed to whittle her attackers down to just two. Despite being outnumbered, outgunned, and barely conscious, she had held her ground.
But there was no victory to be found here.
She was dying.
Suspended in the air, a rocky arm impaled clean through her gut, Acier stared down at her attacker—the lanky man responsible. His devilish grin radiated sadistic satisfaction, but she met it with emotionless calm. She vaguely recalled something about killing his brother.
Behind him, his lone comrade yelled, pleading for him to stop, to spare her. But the lanky man ignored him. He wanted Acier to bleed. He wanted her to die.
And she understood that.
If someone had hurt Aurelia, she would've done the same. The law be damned.
That didn't mean she had any sympathy for him. This was war—a war Diamond had started. How many Clover lives had they stolen, both directly and indirectly?
In war, it was kill or be killed. His brother had died because he was weak. And now, she would face the same fate for her own weakness.
Acier had accepted that truth the moment she arrived in Kiten. She had come to terms with dying here. But still, a bitter regret gnawed at her. Not for being here, but for failing to keep a promise to the person she loved most.
Sorry, Sebby… I always let you down.
Her vision blurred, her lavender eyes fading into a dull, lifeless gray. Her ears filled with silence, the world around her dimming. She felt herself slipping, her senses shutting down one by one.
But then, a soft blue glow pierced the haze.
Her eyes fluttered open, her fading awareness jolted back to life. She saw the lanky man falter, his expression twisting into one of horror. Before he could react, a massive water serpent slammed into him, its jaws snapping his head clean off.
Blood sprayed upward like a geyser, the man's body crumpling to the ground.
Acier blinked, a faint grin tugging at her lips. Maybe snakes aren't so bad after all.
The rocky arm impaling her dissolved into motes of light, and she felt herself falling. But instead of hitting the ground, she landed on something soft and bouncy—a jelly-like cushion of water.
The strange construct stabilized her, its cool touch calming the fire in her wounds. It quickly turned red as blood poured from the gaping hole in her gut.
The water-jelly morphed, closing the wound and sealing her smaller cuts and bruises. It stemmed the blood loss, its soothing presence keeping her conscious.
Reclining in her makeshift seat, Acier's vision cleared slightly. A familiar figure came into focus—a lean, silver-haired man standing protectively in front of her. His typically neat hair was disheveled, falling loosely behind him. In his right hand, he wielded a thin, elegant rapier of water.
Sebastian.
Tears welled in Acier's eyes.
—
Sebastian was crimson from head to toe, his face a chaotic blend of unbridled fury and raw fear. The fury was directed at the Diamond scum who dared to lay a hand on her—no, who had the audacity to try and kill her.
The fear, however, was more complex. Part of it stemmed from the Diamond soldier standing in front of him, seemingly unscathed. Sebastian didn't need a second glance to know he had no chance of defeating this man, even if the latter were gravely injured. But that fear wasn't for himself. It was for Acier.
He was terrified he couldn't protect her. And worse, the sight of her injuries—the gruesome, gaping wound in her gut—unleashed a crushing sense of helplessness.
The wound was hauntingly familiar. It reminded him of the Blue Rose knight he'd failed to save on day one of the mission. The knight he hadn't even tried to save. Her chest had been torn open in a grotesque display that mirrored Acier's injury now, almost mockingly so.
Sebastian couldn't save her back then.
And he had no confidence in working miracles now. This was beyond him.
His teeth clenched so hard his jaw ached, his thoughts racing as the Diamond soldier advanced slowly, his fists crackling with electricity.
The soldier glanced at Sebastian's hair, then let out a sigh of relief, his lips curling into a thin smile.
"Maybe if I bring you back with me, the General won't punish me for losing her—"
He cut himself off abruptly, his words faltering as he caught the sudden change in Sebastian's expression.
Sebastian's face lit up with an alarming mix of joy and desperation. Without hesitation, he raised his arm, waving furiously behind him.
"Over here! Help us!" he shouted.
The soldier's body tensed, his heart leaping into overdrive. His grimoire shot out in front of him as he spun around, scanning the blood-soaked battlefield for reinforcements or an ambush.
But all he saw behind him were corpses. Nothing else.
His pupils dilated in realization, but it was too late. A thin blade shot through the back of his head, piercing cleanly through his skull and exiting the front without resistance.
A neat, round hole marred his forehead as blood began to drip from the fatal wound. The soldier crumpled forward, his grimoire disintegrating into motes of dust as his life faded away.
Sebastian didn't spare him a glance. The water rapier dissolved into nothing as he whirled around and sprinted to Acier's side, dropping to one knee beside her.
His chest constricted painfully at the sight of her. The vibrant, enchanting lavender of her eyes had faded to a dull, almost lifeless gray. She looked up at him weakly, her breaths shallow and strained.
For a brief, heart-stopping moment, Sebastian thought she might already be gone.
Sebastian gritted his teeth, his glowing blue hands trembling as he pressed them over her core, just above the gaping wound in her gut. He poured every ounce of his mana into the water-jel patch sealing the injury, flooding her system with water magic imbued with healing properties. It was enough to give her body a fleeting boost—like a rush of adrenaline to keep her focused—but it wasn't enough to stop her from dying.
His eyes stung as he glanced at her grimoire, lying discarded on the ground, its edges flickering and crumbling away into motes of light.
Hands of Salvation, indeed. They could grant perseverance and save those who could be saved, but they couldn't work miracles.
And Sebastian couldn't afford to count on miracles. Not now.
Biting his lip hard enough to draw blood, he leaned close to her face and shouted in her ear, desperation breaking his voice. "Hold on, Acier! I'll save you! You hear me? Just hold on!"
She didn't respond, and his voice cracked further. "Acier? Acier! I promised your parents—I promised your sister—I wouldn't let you die! Don't make me a liar! Everyone's waiting for you back home. Your family, your servants, the Vermillions—they're all waiting! You haven't even become a Magic Knight yet, let alone the Wizard King! You have so much to live for!"
Tears streamed down his face as he channeled more mana into her, his voice breaking into sobs. "Please, Acier! You're the strongest person I know. You've been through worse. You can get through this too! You're Acier Silva—this is nothing!"
Her flickering lavender eyes, tinged with something unreadable, stared weakly up at him, but she remained silent.
Sebastian's tears mixed with the blood dripping from his bitten lip as he cried harder. "Please! Don't die! Please! I'm begging you! You're all I have! If you die, I'll kill myself! You hear me?! So stay alive, for me!"
Still no reaction.
His hands shook violently, his mana reserves dangerously low, his faith in any blessing from Alden long gone. No luck was coming their way. And even if Sebastian had been in peak condition, he knew he wouldn't have had the skill to treat her injuries.
Goddammit, I should've brought Owen! He berated himself, his body trembling harder. What the fuck was I thinking? You idiot, Sebastian!
Rage, despair, and helplessness clawed at him as he looked skyward and roared, his voice hoarse. "Please! Please! You've never given me anything! You've taken everything from me—don't take this too! I'll do anything! Whatever the price is, I'll pay it! Just please!"
The heavens were silent.
He turned back to Acier, his vision blurring, his breath hitching. Her faint, bloody smile twisted the knife in his heart even deeper. She raised her frail, trembling arm and placed her hand lightly on his chin.
His chest felt like it was splitting open as he lowered his head, letting her touch him.
Then, in a voice barely above a whisper, weak and uncharacteristically fragile, she spoke.
"I… really wanted you to stay away…" Her breath hitched as she smiled faintly. "But having you here… with me… in my final moments… it makes everything less scary."
Sebastian shook like a child, pressing into her hand as though he could anchor her to this world. To him, even on the brink of death, she looked like an angel.
"S-Sebby," she stammered, her voice cracking. "P-please… get out of here… i-it's not safe… I l-love you… y-you gotta live… for both of us…"
Her hand slipped from his cheek. But before it could fall, Sebastian's hand shot out, gripping her wrist tightly. He wouldn't let her go. He couldn't.
Her gaze began to dim, her eyelids drooping as if she were about to slip away for good.
Sebastian refused to let that happen.
His other hand moved to the top of her head, sending a controlled burst of water magic through her skin to stimulate her brain. Then he shifted his palm to her chest, jolting her heart. He kept the rhythm going, forcing her two most vital organs to keep functioning. If she slipped now, it would be for eternity.
As he worked, he gently guided her trembling hand toward his satchel, earning a faint look of confusion from her. Wrapping her fingers around a small, square box inside, he helped her pull it out.
Acier's eyes widened as she held the small box in her trembling hands. Sebastian forced a shaky smile, using the hand steadying her left arm to flip the box open. Inside was a silver ring, its top shaped like a heart, adorned with an amethyst jewel that glinted faintly in the dim light.
Her breath hitched, shallow and uneven, as Sebastian removed the ring and gently grasped her hand. He ran his thumb over the plain brass ring that already adorned her finger.
"This ring was proof of our friendship," he began, his voice thick with emotion. "But over time, it's come to mean so much more. That's fine and all, but…" He swallowed hard, tears brimming in his eyes. "After being indecisive for so long, I wanted to give you a clear sign."
Her wide eyes searched his face as he continued, his words as much an anchor for her as the mana he poured into her failing body.
"The reason I've always held back, the reason I didn't do all those things you wanted to do, is because I felt I wasn't worthy of you."
Her breath caught, her fading grimoire flickering erratically, but Sebastian pressed on, fighting against her slipping consciousness.
"I wanted to wait," he admitted, his voice trembling. "I wanted to become a doctor, a noble, something more—so no one could ever look down on you for being with someone like me. I know you don't care about that, but I do. I hated feeling like I was taking advantage of you. I wanted to be someone worthy of standing by your side!" His voice cracked. "And I still do! Because I love you, Acier. I love you, and I want to be everything you deserve and more!"
Her body trembled as he guided the silver ring onto her finger, pushing the brass band up to make room.
"This is the best I can do for you right now," he said, his voice raw with desperation. "It's a promise. A promise that I won't back down or shy away from my feelings anymore. And it's a vow—to better myself, to become someone who deserves to pursue you, not just as a friend but as a suitor."
His hands shook as he gripped hers tightly, his tear-streaked face inches from hers. "So live, Acier Silva. Live until the day I've achieved all of that and more. I swear, when I turn twenty-one, I won't make you wait a moment longer. If you'll have me, I'll even marry you that very day."
His voice grew louder, more impassioned. "So live! Live for me, for yourself, for us! For the family we'll build together!"
Her pupils dilated, her lips trembling as Sebastian's voice broke into a shout. "If it's with you, I can see myself being a father. I can see myself doing anything and everything with you and for you! So please, Acier—please live! Let me make good on this promise, and I swear I'll never ask for anything else from you again!"
Tears spilled from her eyes as she choked out a broken response. "S-so… s-sorry, Sebby… b-but I g-got… n-nothing left…"
Her voice faltered, trailing off into silence as her eyes lost all color. Her arm went limp, falling lifelessly to her side, and her grimoire began to fade again, its edges disintegrating into motes of light.
Sebastian froze, staring down at her as the truth clawed at his chest. Then, as if something inside him snapped, he turned his gaze to the water-jel patch covering her wound.
His expression darkened, his eyes hollow and cold. Without hesitation, he yanked the patch off like a bandage, heedless of the blood that poured from her gut. The move aggravated her internal injuries further, speeding the fading of her grimoire.
Acier coughed up a mouthful of pale, nearly colorless blood. Her wound leaked with the same lifeless fluid as Sebastian looked down at her, his face grim and unyielding.
Without a word, he plunged his glowing hands directly into her gut.
"Did I give you permission to die?"
Sebastian's voice was cold, cutting through the still air. Acier's eyes remained shut, unresponsive. He didn't care. His tone grew sharper. "If I tell you to live, you live. I'm not asking. I'm demanding."
"You want to die? You feel like giving up? You think you got nothing left?" His lip curled into a snarl. "Well, fuck that. If I tell you to live, you live."
He tilted his head back, spitting furiously at the sky. "And fuck you, too. No one gets to take her from me—not an enemy, not herself, and especially not you."
Lowering his gaze, he spoke with a grim determination. "I'm a doctor. I've only got one job: to save lives. Fate? Logic? They can both go to hell."
"They say you can only save someone who wants to be saved, someone who believes they can be saved." His laugh was derisive. "Well, fuck that too."
Sebastian's hands remained buried in Acier's gut, his fingers glowing with magic as he worked against the clock. His voice dropped, filled with icy resolve. "I don't need anyone. At times like this, I do what I've always done—I rely on myself. What others want, what others say—it means nothing to me. The only thing that matters is what I want. And I want you to live."
His eyes darted to his floating grimoire, its pages flickering as though resisting his will. His expression twisted with disgust. "If you can't make yourself useful now, I have no need for you in the future. You know what I want. Make it happen."
Almost as if obeying his command, the grimoire flipped open to the eleventh page. New writing appeared, glowing faintly.
Sebastian sneered. "Heh."
In the next instant, Acier was encased in a shimmering water cocoon. Streams of water mana flowed into her body through every pore and wound, accelerating her innate healing factor and treating her injuries with precision. Yet, miraculously, neither she nor Sebastian's hands became wet.
Water Recovery Magic: Blessed Bath of Heavenly Healing.
Sebastian's eyes narrowed, locking onto Acier's grimoire. Though the fading process slowed to a crawl, it hadn't stopped. She was still dying.
This treatment takes too long. Hours. She doesn't have that kind of time, and neither do I.
His jaw clenched as his face darkened. His eyes turned pitch black, void of emotion, his mind slipping into a cold, calculating state focused only on survival.
I've heard that burning life force can grant a surge of power. If I lose everything to save her, so be it. A few years of my life are a small price to pay.
Sebastian closed his eyes, feeling his ocean-blue mana darken, shifting into a deep navy hue. His internal energy surged, his body protesting violently. The cocoon's water droplets seemed to siphon more than just mana from him. They carried something vital, an essence of his very being.
He ignored the searing pain, the draining sensation as his essence flowed into Acier. Slowly, the gaping wound in her chest began to close, and her grimoire flickered back to life, its fading edges restoring themselves.
Before the wound could fully seal, Sebastian pulled his hands from her chest, his face still blank and emotionless.
Motes of light flickered off the edges of his grimoire—barely perceptible to anyone else but painfully clear to him. He noted the loss with detached indifference.
His glowing hands hovered over Acier's now-closed chest, methodically tending to the smaller injuries that remained. He healed cuts, erased bruises, and smoothed scars, his movements precise and efficient.
The dark navy aura engulfing him faded gradually, shifting back to ocean blue, then to a pale, transparent shade, before finally settling into its original color.
The cocoon surrounding Acier dissolved.
Sebastian glanced at her fully restored grimoire, then ran a hand through his sweat-dampened hair. When he pulled the strands free, they tingled against his palm. He stared at them coldly, noticing a few were silver-gray—not the bright silver-white like the rest, like they're supposed to be.
Without a word, he let the strands drift from his fingers, watching them fall to the ground. His gaze swept across the battlefield, nearly silent now from Clover's side. The occasional bursts of wind and vines shooting into enemy lines were all that remained of the chaos.
The last thing Sebastian saw was a reddish-blonde blur rushing toward him before his vision went black. His body gave out, and he collapsed unconscious on top of Acier.
—
Acier's eyes snapped open, the hazy remnants of sleep fading as she stared up at the starry night sky.
Her head tilted downward, taking in the familiar towering walls and the shattered remnants of the ghostly, abandoned town. Kiten.
Something soft rubbed against her back. Frowning, she sat up, glancing down to find hay beneath her. She'd been sleeping on a pile of hay. Confused, she turned to her left and realized she was in a horse cart. Her brow furrowed in bewilderment, but when she turned to her right, she froze.
Leaning casually against the side of the cart, standing and gazing down at her with an unreadable expression, was Sebastian.
"I see you're up," he said impassively.
Acier's eyes watered as she parted her lips incredulously. "Couldn't you say something more romantic?"
Sebastian's face didn't change. "I tried romance a while ago. You didn't care."
Acier winced at the reminder, lowering her gaze. Her hand brushed against her unmarked stomach, and she felt her grimoire resting at her side.
"How…?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
Sebastian shrugged indifferently. "I learned a new spell. All thanks to the trauma you put me through. So… thanks for that."
Acier hung her head in shame before glancing back up. "You brought me back here."
Sebastian shook his head. "No. She brought us both back."
He tilted his head toward the side, prompting Acier to turn around. She froze at the sight.
Lily lay completely bandaged from head to toe, snoring softly in Chloe's lap. Tears streamed down Chloe's face as she ran a trembling hand through her elder twin's hair.
Acier choked up, her voice a whisper. "How long have I been out?"
"An hour, apparently," Sebastian replied. "I only woke up shortly after Lily carried the two of us back here. So… about ten minutes ago."
Before Acier could respond, he continued, "Anyway, I'm out of mana, so I can't cast my eagle spell, and we don't have any brooms here. We'll have to leave on foot."
He gestured toward Owen in the distance, unconscious and slumped over Kaiser's back. "The problem is, Owen's knocked out from using the last of his mana to patch Lily up. That's why we waited for you to wake up. Two of us will carry Owen, and the other two will carry Lily."
Sebastian's voice turned grim. "The war's lost. You're not going to say something stupid about fighting to the end, are you?"
Acier followed his gaze, noticing Kaiser trudging toward them with Owen on his back. She hesitated before turning back to Sebastian.
Before she could answer, a resounding voice echoed across the battlefield.
"Princess Acier! We know you're in there! And a few other Clover stragglers as well! If you surrender peacefully now, we'll spare them! I know your lover is among you. Don't try anything stupid, or I'll make you watch as he's beaten to death!"
The group froze.
The voice came again, sly and venomous. "Your captains, your Wizard King, all your comrades are dead. No help is coming. We've jammed all communication tools and magic—you're trapped. Come out and surrender. I'm not in a very good mood, and killing some brats might fix that. So don't tempt me!"
Sebastian grabbed Acier's wrist and yanked her off the cart. "Let's go! We need to get out of here—"
The voice cut in again, mocking. "If you broomless brats think you can outrun us, you've lost your damn minds! This is your final warning: surrender now. Choose wisely, Princess!"
Sebastian trembled but gritted his teeth, turning to Kaiser. "Do you have any mana left?"
Kaiser nodded curtly.
Sebastian bit his lip. "I'll get Owen home. Please hold them off so I can do that."
Kaiser didn't flinch at the implication—he would be a shield, and that was his duty. He nodded again, resolute.
Sebastian reached out to take Owen from him, but Acier grabbed his arm.
"Wait, Sebby."
"Now's not the time for this, Acier!" Sebastian hissed, his frustration boiling over. Kaiser's expression agreed.
Chloe bit her lip, glancing between Acier and Lily. She needed Acier's help to carry her sister home gently. Aggravating Lily's injuries any further could kill her.
Acier ignored them all, a serene smile spreading across her face. "You don't need to worry. I'll handle it."
Sebastian leaned in, his voice sharp and furious. "I've had just about enough of you and what you want. We're doing things my way from now on. If I say we run, we run—"
"Sebby." Acier raised her left hand, the promise ring glinting faintly in the moonlight. She pressed a gentle kiss to it, her smile blooming like a flower.
"Right now, I feel so free. So happy. I have an entire future with you to look forward to, and I'm not going to give that up. So, for the last time… can you trust me?"
Sebastian faltered, his mouth half-open as though ready to argue. Before he could respond, the booming voice returned, cutting through the silence.
"If I don't see you Clover scum out here in the next minute, I'll take it as a refusal to comply!"
Acier let go of Sebastian's arm and darted toward the stairs leading to the front gate walls.
"Wait, Acier—" Sebastian called, snapping out of his shock and chasing after her. But it was useless. Her mana-enforced feet carried her across the distance in seconds, and before he could close the gap, she had leaped onto the wall.
Acier looked down, her gaze zeroing in on the middle-aged man at the lead. His curly hair obscured most of his face, but his posture and presence were unmistakable.
That must be Yagos.
Her eyes swept the army behind him. About a hundred men, most scarred and battered. Her lips quirked upward.
Just as Sebastian climbed the wall and was within reach of her, Yagos opened his mouth to speak, a cunning smile playing across his face.
And then Acier jumped.
She leapt from the fifty-foot wall.
Sebastian's pupils dilated in horror. Yagos' jaw went slack in disbelief.
"Acier—!"
But Sebastian cut himself off when he saw her mana flare. She glowed, radiantly, her power spiking to a level that filled him with awe. Around her, the air grew heavy, thick with magic, as her grimoire flipped open at her side. Its pages turned rapidly until they landed on a blank one, which began to fill with glowing script.
The light around Acier faded, revealing her transformed.
She wore a silver dress that clung to her form, running from her neck to her waist, with slits exposing her thighs before continuing from her knees as silver steel boots. Steel-like earmuffs framed the sides of her head, connected by a tiara-like headband. Her hands were encased in steel gloves, her fingers left bare. In her right hand, she carried a spiraling lance-like weapon that gleamed under the moonlight.
And then she flew.
She didn't fall; she soared through the air, looping and twisting at incredible speeds, leaving trails of smoke in her wake. Finally, she floated downward, hovering over the Diamond army.
Sebastian's heart raced as he fixed his eyes on her back. He couldn't see her face, but somehow, he knew she was smiling.
His fears faded.
Leaning over the wall, he watched as Acier, without hesitation or allowing Diamond a chance to speak, charged straight at the enemy—straight at Yagos.
A girl, not even sixteen years old, dared to charge headfirst at a general.
Yagos snorted, raising a finger in annoyance. "I warned you. You didn't appreciate it, so don't blame me for what happens next!"
From his fingertip, a droplet of mucus swirled and shot toward Acier at incredible speed, closing the distance to her forehead in seconds.
But before it could connect, she spun midair, her movements graceful and deliberate, like a ballerina. She twirled around the attack, evading it completely.
In a flicker, she appeared a meter away from Yagos, thrusting her lance forward.
The general's eyes widened in panic as he hastily constructed a multilayered shield of mucus—one strong enough to withstand full-power attacks. But it crumbled before her.
Her lance spun with devastating speed, drilling straight through the shield and slamming into his chest.
Yagos staggered, cold sweat dripping down his face. That weapon pierces through spells—!
The thought died as pain exploded in his chest. Blood sprayed from his mouth as the force of the attack sent him flying.
Quick reflexes saved his life; he'd barely managed to retreat in time to avoid being impaled. But he was out.
"General?!" His soldiers scrambled to catch him, panic spreading as they realized their leader was unconscious.
Their fear turned to horror as they faced Acier, who charged forward.
From his perch on the wall, Sebastian watched as the soldiers unleashed wave after wave of magic at her. But Acier evaded them all.
She danced through the battlefield.
She flew, twisted, and twirled, her movements fluid and inhumanly graceful. She ducked, slid, and ran along the ground, every step and spin deliberate, as though performing an intricate choreography.
Sebastian couldn't look away. Her blooming smile lit up the battlefield as she severed enemies with the elegance of a performer. Blood spilled, but none touched her. Her lance drilled through spells and soldiers alike, yet her rhythm remained unbroken.
She moved with freedom, confidence, and joy.
Acier felt alive. The invisible chains that had bound her to her House shattered, leaving her free to dance, to smile, and to love. For the first time, her two greatest passions—magic and dancing—merged into one.
She culled the Diamond forces with ease, cutting their numbers to half before they finally broke. The survivors fled, dragging their unconscious general with them.
Acier fired shells of steel after them, striking a handful more before soaring into the sky. She inhaled deeply, the fresh air filling her lungs as she floated in the cloudless night. Then, with a radiant smile, she descended, landing in front of Sebastian.
Sebastian's breath caught as he gazed at her, mesmerized.
Acier blushed slightly, a soft smile gracing her lips. "How do I look?"
"Beautiful," Sebastian whispered, without hesitation.
Her smile widened, and her spell faded, returning her to her normal clothes. Landing lightly on her toes, she leapt into Sebastian's arms, wrapping him in a tight embrace.
That night, June 19th, 1601, marked the end of an eleven-month war with Diamond—a war that had cost Clover its Wizard King, three captains, and nearly two entire squads.
But it also bore witness to the birth of the Dancing Princess of the Battlefield.
Author's Notes:
[1] Done the war portion of the dream arc
[2] Feel free to join the Discord! https://discord.gg/s3MME8X8ar
Das könnte Ihnen auch gefallen
Kommentar absatzweise anzeigen
Die Absatzkommentarfunktion ist jetzt im Web! Bewegen Sie den Mauszeiger über einen beliebigen Absatz und klicken Sie auf das Symbol, um Ihren Kommentar hinzuzufügen.
Außerdem können Sie es jederzeit in den Einstellungen aus- und einschalten.
ICH HAB ES