A Sequence 3 fighting a Sequence 4 was, without question, a one-sided slaughter—but to kill one instantly, in the blink of an eye? That was a bit much, even for him.
Let's leave an opponent like that to Lord Suah, Barranca thought dryly. Our goal tonight was never to win—just to stall for time.
As the demigod from the Rose School of Thought perished, the body of Zaratul that he had been carrying was caught in the lightning storm. Charred and limp, it fell straight downward—
And a black hand tore through the air, reaching out to grab him.
At once, the dozen or so phantom forms Edward had conjured swarmed in, launching a barrage of attacks against both Zaratul and the Abomination Suah.
At the same time, the illusory book in Edward's eyes flipped open, its pages glowing faintly with crimson light. He invoked a calamity he had recorded earlier from Krismona—
Catastrophe.
With a deafening roar, a colossal meteor wreathed in flame plunged down from the heavens, crashing toward Suah's black, corrupted hand.
The abomination reacted instantly, clutching Zaratul tighter and attempting to retreat back into the Spirit World.
But Edward raised his hand and invoked [Regression], reversing Suah's movement—just for half a second.
It wasn't much. But half a second was all a Wanderer needed.
In that infinitesimal moment, Edward traversed space several times in succession and wrenched Zaratul's body free from Suah's grasp.
The very next heartbeat—
Suah broke free from Regression's delay. The Fog Sea erupted with a monstrous, malignant aura. The air thickened; the surrounding space rippled and shattered violently.
From those spatial cracks, dozens of immense, bark-covered arms emerged—their surface mottled like rotting tree trunks—reaching hungrily toward Edward.
BOOM!
In an instant, the entire island was obliterated. Hundreds of black arms pierced through it, rending it apart with a thunderous explosion. The land crumbled into fragments and sank into the depths of the sea.
"Buh-bye!"
But Edward was long gone—he and Zaratul had already slipped into the Astral Realm.
Among the twenty-two Beyonder pathways, each had its unique strengths. But when it came to the 'divine art' of escaping, the Door Pathway was second to none.
Even the might of an Abomination couldn't bridge the gulf between worlds.
Come chase me into the Astral Realm, if you can, Edward thought with a smirk. Let's see how that goes.
But before the thought even faded, Zaratul's eyes suddenly snapped open.
The confusion in them was quickly consumed by madness—a wild, feral fury.
Edward felt his body stiffen. A chilling force seized control of his limbs—the control of Spirit Threads!
Without hesitation, he stepped through the void, traversing space to break free before Zaratul could fully seize him.
Then, invoking [Unfettered] several times in rapid succession, he severed the control entirely, purging from his body the Worms of Spirit that Zaratul had implanted to turn him into a Marionette.
The wriggling, glimmering worm fell into Edward's grasp.
Worm of Spirit—acquired.
A flash of satisfaction crossed his face.
Without missing a beat, he surged back into the Astral Realm, his wand already raised. The green light of the Killing Curse gleamed at its tip.
Avada Kedavra!
Zaratul, though insane, was not completely devoid of self-preservation.
He yanked a Historical Projection out of the past to block the curse, then burst into flames and leapt behind Edward, unleashing a barrage of Air Cannons from his mouth.
The blasts were deafening—the attacks of a Sequence 3 Air Cannon were comparable to coastal defence artillery, and at Sequence 2, their destructive power only multiplied.
The invisible shockwaves battered Edward's Phantasmal Doors, causing it to crack and splinter. The barrier wouldn't hold much longer.
"Magnify—Steal."
Edward's pupils gleamed with the spinning of ancient gears. He reached out, and the theft succeeded effortlessly—the Spirit Thread Control ability was stolen directly from Zaratul.
Normally, even Amon himself would struggle to steal such a deeply integrated Sequence 2 ability in a single attempt. A Seer's danger sense would trigger instantly, allowing them to swap places with a Marionette or escape via Miracles.
But Zaratul, consumed by insanity, had likely forgotten all about his Marionettes—or perhaps he had simply lost them in his earlier battle with Antigonus.
And without his Marionettes, a Seer's survival capability plummeted sharply.
Zaratul's dimming eyes flickered with a shred of awareness. His body tensed—then he summoned three Historical Projections from his past all at once.
Two of them were the same Sequence 2 entities from before.
But the third—
The third was an old man in a black robe, his features eerily similar to Zaratul's own, though more weathered and ancient.
The moment he appeared, Edward's expression changed.
That oppressive, suffocating feeling of having his Spirit Body Threads seized returned—and this time, even faster than before.
This one…could it be the late Zaratul Sr.?
A Sequence 1—the OG Zaratul!
At the same time, the two Sequence 2 Historical Projections lunged forward, launching simultaneous attacks from both sides.
One of Zaratul's Historical Projections distorted Edward's very thoughts of "escaping,"
redirecting the concept of Wandering into a barrage of compressed air blasts that shot toward him, and then—amplified its own actions with [Magnify].
Another projection seized control of the surrounding weather.
Dense fog rose from the Astral Sea, torrential rain poured down, and thunder roared across the dark expanse—each strike infused with [Cull], each flash of lightning carrying enough force to shatter a mountain.
As for Zaratul's true body, he stayed far away, relentlessly firing Air Cannons from a distance. Even in a half-mad, semi-conscious state, his instinct to "stay alive" ran bone-deep. It was as if the word cowardice had been engraved into his very spirituality.
"Reboot."
Edward's mind twisted under the dual onslaught of distorted thoughts and Sequence 1–level Spirit Body Thread Control.
He knew gambling on [Unfettered] would be too risky now.
Instead, he seized the split-second window created by the distortion and decisively triggered [Reboot].
Once again, the scale-less silver serpent appeared, its body composed of countless interlocking mercury runes.
Each rune flared to life, forming a chain of spinning, connected wheels—and the flow of time in that region began to rewind.
The invasive spirit threads, the twisted thoughts, the shifting weather, the raging Air Cannons—all reversed at once, their effects unravelling backwards in time.
Even the three Historical Projections began to fade, dissolving into the void.
Edward transformed into more than a dozen Phantom Doors, surrounding Zaratul and his projections in a perfect formation.
The ancient gears in his eyes spun faster and faster until—
The three projections froze mid-motion, then accelerated backwards, vanishing completely into the gaps of history within seconds.
Zaratul tried to summon more, to repeat his trick, but Edward struck first—stealing his current chain of thought, then turning Zaratul's own Spirit Body Thread Manipulation against him.
In an instant, Zaratul's body stiffened, his limbs locked in place—unable to move.
But when Edward tried to push further, he realised the stolen ability was limited. It could only paralyse, not create.
After all, a Seer's Marionette Creation required splitting off a portion of their Worms of Spirit and channelling it through the Spirit Body Threads into another vessel to complete the transformation.
Edward's "Worms of Star" were of a different essence entirely.
They couldn't reproduce the same effect.
Even so—
A flurry of Killing Curses struck Zaratul square in the face.
Edward attempted to follow up with another theft, aiming to snatch his Historical Projection ability.
But this time—failure.
Snap!
A sound that didn't exist in physical reality echoed across the Astral Realm—the sound of spirit threads breaking.
The control snapped.
Zaratul's body convulsed as he broke free.
Several curses struck him point-blank, draining his vitality and dimming his aura.
He could tell—a few more of those, and even a Sequence 2 like him would die.
The next moment, his body twisted—turning into a paper figurine, which crumbled into ash and vanished. Then a burst of flames erupted elsewhere as he reappeared far away, fleeing at full speed without hesitation.
He had pushed his Flaming Jump ability to its limit—but even that couldn't compare to Edward's single step of Wandering.
Still, the manoeuvre bought him time to summon again.
Two Sequence 2s.
One Sequence 1.
Three Historical Projections surrounded him in perfect defense.
None of them attacked.
They merely guarded him, retreating in unison as Zaratul fled deeper into the Astral darkness.
Whenever Edward emerged from the void, he was immediately met with a storm of overlapping attacks—lightning, air pressure, curses, and spiritual distortion all crashing down in concert.
Every time he attempted a counter, the projections intercepted him in suicidal fashion, their purpose only to delay, to protect.
Edward found himself frowning.
This isn't right.
Could Zaratul's consciousness have already returned to his true body?
If this weakened, half-insane version of Zaratul was already this troublesome—then how in the hell would he fight the real, fully conscious one, complete with puppets?
If I don't take him down now, he thought grimly, I'll never get the Miracle Invoker characteristic from him again.
Just as that thought flashed through his mind, an idea sparked.
Edward stepped out of a Phantom Door, blocking Zaratul's path.
His voice echoed across the Astral Realm, "Zaratul! I only want the extra Miracle Invoker characteristic in your possession! Hand it over, and I'll leave this instant!"
The response came as a violent barrage of attacks.
Edward retreated into another gate, then reappeared several meters away, leaving behind flickering afterimages as he continued to speak:
"Zaratul, maintaining three Historical Projections at once must be draining your spirituality fast, isn't it? When your spirituality runs out and you can't summon them anymore—how do you plan to defend yourself then?"
He paused, voice steady and cold, "I'll repeat it one more time. I only want that spare characteristic. That's all."
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
Doors after Doors shattered under the bombardment. The last one exploded into shards of light—
—but Edward had already moved again.
Seconds later, he reappeared, voice calm, mocking, "You think my spirituality drains as fast as yours, don't you? That may be true—if I keep attacking. But what if I don't?"
"What if I just keep my distance…and every so often, pop in to harass you?"
"I could conserve my spirituality, while you'd still be forced to maintain your projections—Tell me, Zaratul, who do you think will last longer?"
He reached into his space pocket and pulled out a shining golden cup.
"Hufflepuff's Cup," he said with a grin. "An artifact that restores spirituality. You can divine for yourself if I'm lying."
"I'll say this once more: I only want the Miracle Invoker characteristic. The extra one you're holding. Giving it up won't cost you anything."
If Zaratul had still been lucid, he would have screamed in rage: "You bastard! What the hell are you talking about?! I am the Miracle Invoker! Handing over the characteristic means I die! What you want isn't my spare trait—it's the Attendant of Mysteries characteristic I just stole!"
Indeed, Edward had misunderstood.
He remembered that Zaratul possessed an extra Miracle Invoker characteristic, but forgot that the surplus had been produced when Zaratul used the Attendant of Mysteries characteristic to concoct his Sequence 1 potion.
But even if Edward knew that, it wouldn't have changed a thing.
His words were just another weapon—an attempt at manipulation, at stalling, at "talking his way" into an advantage.
And then—A pale mist began to drift in from nowhere, curling like breath over still water.
The once-endless black of the Astral Realm dimmed further, tinged with faint, ominous hues of red.
In the next heartbeat, Zaratul's spirituality quivered violently.
Danger.
Danger!
This was no ordinary omen—it was the sharpest, most terrifying premonition he had ever felt since becoming a Seer.
One thought resounded through every fibre of his being: Go no further. One more step—and I die!
———
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