The courtyard opened like a secret kept too long, bathed in a wash of soft daylight. Gothic arches lined the perimeter in perfect symmetry, their shadows stretching like skeletal fingers across the polished stone floor. At the heart of it all, a small fountain murmured quietly, its water glittering beneath the stern gaze of a weathered statue. The air was still—almost reverent—thick with the scent of moss and old stone. Sunlight slanted through the open colonnade, cutting bright ribbons across the cool shade where ancient benches waited in silence, as if for conversations lost to time.
Above, towers clawed at the sky, their jagged silhouettes casting long, ominous spires upon the courtyard, reminders of power, history, and secrets buried deep within these walls.
The grand amphitheater glowed with soft daylight filtering through tall, arched windows, their panes tracing intricate patterns of light across the polished wooden floor. Tiered rows of desks curved like a crescent moon, each surface scattered with open tomes, quills, and sheets of parchment that smelled faintly of ink and ancient wisdom.
The hall was alive with murmurs. Dozens of students filled the seats, their crisp uniforms of white and gold gleaming like threads of sunlight woven into fabric. Gold trim traced the edges of immaculate jackets, catching the light as they shifted, while polished badges glimmered against the snow-white cloth. Every motion was precise, every voice hushed—a disciplined hum that spoke of power, ambition, and secrets cloaked in scholarly decorum.
At the heart of the hall, a lone podium stood before an immense blackboard, flanked by two smaller green slates. This was no ordinary classroom; it was a crucible where the brightest minds were forged into the architects of tomorrow.
Haruto stood before the blackboard, golden-yellow eyes distant—storm clouds simmering behind glass. Regret gnawed at him in silence. He wasn't here. Not with the class. Not even with reality.
Aeloria's voice slid over him like rain on a window—soft, meaningless. Until her words cut through the haze like a blade:
" My Lord."
She turned, lips curling in that mischievous smile.
"Okay. I'll leave the rest to you."
His expression shifted—half a glare, half disbelief. Rest to me? Before he could answer, she was gone. The door closed with a click that felt like a gavel striking judgment.
"…Seriously," he murmured, a faint sigh curling from his lips.
Sliding his hands from the pockets of his cropped black trousers, he strode to the podium. Each step whispered a predator's rhythm, his sleek, laceless shoes kissing the floor like quiet thunder.
Haruto planted both palms on the podium. His eyes swept across the students—measured, sharp, cutting through the room's silence like a drawn blade. When he spoke, his voice carried weight, calm yet absolute.
"Greetings. Name's Haruto. I'll be your instructor for today—just today."
A ripple stirred the class. Curiosity bloomed like sparks. Then a hand shot up—short yellow hair, bright matching eyes, waving like a signal flag.
Haruto arched a brow.
"You need something?"
The girl rose, confidence in every line of her posture.
"Yes, sir. Amara. I've got a question."
Haruto tilted his head slightly, granting her full attention.
"You've got my ear."
Tension hummed across the room, stretched thin as a bowstring.
"Are you… that Haruto?" Awe trembled in her voice. "The one they call Ruler of the Nation?"
Haruto's lips curved—just enough to count as a smile.
"…Yeah. That's me."
Amara practically lit up, her voice pitching higher.
"Then—then is it true you created that massive hole?!"
Haruto froze for a heartbeat. Hole?
Memories flared—steel splitting his flesh, the taste of blood, the void's cold embrace. Pieces locked together like shattered glass mending.
"…Huh." He exhaled a laugh, low and dry.
"No. That wasn't me. You could say…" his voice sharpened to a blade's edge, "…it was used on me."
A shrug, effortless, dismissive.
"And honestly? It wasn't that powerful."
Whispers exploded across the room like gunfire. Not that powerful?!
Amara's jaw nearly hit the floor.
"Not powerful?!"
Haruto turned his back on the noise. His white cloak flared behind him like a flicker of flame—its jagged hem cutting the air, golden clasps catching the light near his collarbone. Beneath, the black tunic hugged his frame like a promise of violence.
He took a marker, uncapped it with a click sharp as a trigger pull, and wrote across the board in clean, deliberate strokes:
Magic Tiers
Below it: Basic Element Magic. He circled the phrase, then turned, golden eyes narrowing like the edge of a sunlit blade.
"Seven basic elements. Name them."
A pause hung in the air like a held breath. Haruto smirked.
"Since there are seven of you, each of you—name one."
Amara shot her hand up like lightning.
"Thunder Magic!"
"Correct." Haruto scrawled it down without glancing at her.
"Six left."
Kaito Asakura spoke next—green eyes glinting like cut jade, lashes too long for his own good.
"Fire Magic."
Then Takumi Ayasaki, violet gaze calm and calculating, voice edged with confidence.
"Air Magic."
Renji followed—wild black-and-blue hair framing reddish-pink eyes that burned with challenge.
"Light Magic."
His sister Ayame answered with quiet command, crimson eyes hard as tempered steel.
"Water Magic."
Shizuku spoke, her voice cool as frost, silver-blue hair brushing her pale cheeks.
"Ice Magic."
Finally, Aya Minazuki—a contradiction in soft pastels, pink streaking one side of her hair, light brown the other.
"Earth Magic."
Haruto capped the marker with a sharp click, tapping the board twice like a judge delivering sentence.
"Good. Now… out of these seven, how many can you use?"
Shizuku raised her hand, unflinching.
"Yes?"
"Ice and Thunder," she said simply.
Haruto's grin curved, slow and dangerous.
"Dual affinity. Nice. Let's use yours as an example."
On the clean side of the board, his strokes carved a new equation:
Thunder + Ice = ?
He turned back, voice dropping low—steady, electric.
"Advanced magic has two layers. First layer? Fusion. Take two base elements—Thunder and Ice—and you get Cryoelectric Magic."
The word seemed to crackle in the room, alive with potential.
"Second layer? That's where it gets insane. Star magic. Gravity magic. Black hole magic. With enough skill, you can mix even those."
He leaned against the podium, tone flattening into lazy candor.
"I'm not listing them all. Too many—thousands, maybe more. The real question…"
Golden eyes swept the room like a blade tracing throats.
"How do you fuse two elements?"
He began to pace, cloak whispering against the floor.
"You can't just brute-force it. You master both basics first. Then comes the trick—deeper principles. Methods few understand."
Kaito's hand shot up, voice cutting through the tension.
"Sensei! Can you show us an example?"
Haruto paused mid-step, a faint sigh slipping past his lips. Thoughts brushed dark and dry against his mind:
Figures. Showing an example would be easy. I just… hate teaching.
---
Haruto's gaze swept over the seven pairs of expectant eyes. His voice rolled out calm and even, carrying that unshakable authority:
"Yes. I'll give you an example of what advanced magic can do."
He lifted one hand, fingers poised like a king ready to declare judgment.
"Let's start… with instant teleportation."
A flick.
Reality shattered like glass.
The classroom dissolved, ripped apart in an instant—and they were gone.
Silence fell. No sound. No floor beneath their feet. Only endless black, infinite and alive, studded with shimmering stars like a crown of molten diamonds. Galaxies spun in spirals of violet, crimson, and gold—colors mortal eyes could never truly perceive.
But Haruto saw everything. Every glowing arc. Every distant, burning sun. For the briefest moment, even he—cold, collected Haruto—was caught in its beauty.
Then came the screaming.
"Wha—Whaaaat the hell?!"
He turned. Seven students clung together in a tangled heap, gripping one another like drowning sailors. Panic radiated off them in waves.
Kaito's voice cracked like glass.
"Where the hell ARE we, Haruto-sensei?!"
"Oi! Get your hands out of my face!" Takumi snapped, shoving Kaito's palm away with a glare sharp enough to cut steel.
Kaito flailed, elbows and knees everywhere. "I—It's not my fault!"
Takumi's patience shattered. His foot lashed out, boot slamming into Kaito's stomach. The boy shot backward like a ragdoll—only to freeze mid-air, suspended by an unseen force.
"HUH?!" Kaito flailed harder, limbs jerking like a man trying to swim through nothing.
"Why can't I—why can't I FEEL ANYTHING?!"
His voice cracked with sheer confusion.
"I'm not falling! I'm just… floating?! What is this?!"
Haruto stood with his arms crossed, golden eyes faintly glowing against the void. His voice was quiet, almost bored, but edged with steel.
"Calm down. You're not falling because I wrapped all of you in a True Mana Cloak."
Aya's voice trembled as she clung to Takumi's arm, wide eyes reflecting starlight.
"A… True Mana Cloak?"
"Yeah." Haruto tilted his head, cloak drifting in the void like a white flame. "It shields you from the vacuum, negates gravitational pull, and regulates oxygen flow. We'll cover it in detail—next time."
The students slowly peeled away from one another. Aya's grip loosened on Takumi's sleeve. She flushed, turning her face aside.
"S-sorry about that…"
Takumi blinked, caught off guard. Then—soft smile.
"It's fine. No need to apologize."
A faint blush crept across his face as their eyes met. They both laughed awkwardly, the sound brittle against the cosmic silence.
Haruto clapped his hands once—sharp, like thunder cracking through silence. The sound dragged every trembling eye back to him.
"Eyes up," he said, voice calm but cutting through the cosmic quiet. "We're still in school… even if the classroom's a little bigger than usual."
A faint smirk curved his lips.
"I'll show you another example of advanced magic. Watch closely."
The seven students straightened—some still pale, others clutching invisible threads of courage. Their gazes locked on Haruto as he turned away, facing the endless sea of galaxies sprawled like jeweled rivers across the void.
He lifted one hand, a single finger rising to point toward eternity itself. Golden glyphs shimmered faintly around his arm as his voice deepened—commanding, resonant, a decree written in iron and flame:
"Erasure Edict."
The words didn't echo. They devoured sound, dragging silence into something absolute.
And then—reality obeyed.
Galaxies vanished.
Not shattered. Not burned. Simply… gone.
An infinite canvas of light was wiped clean in an instant—nebulae, stars, entire cosmic structures, all erased without trace, without scream, without resistance.
One breath ago, eternity was sprawling and radiant.
The next… nothing. A hollow black stretched forever, perfect and merciless.
The students couldn't even gasp. Their throats locked. The scope was beyond comprehension—because the spell didn't travel, didn't strike. It simply was. The effect unfolded everywhere Haruto willed, simultaneously, as if reality itself had been redacted by divine law.
Haruto lowered his hand slowly, the faint glow fading from his skin.
"This," he said quietly, his voice almost gentle against the crushing silence,
"is why you learn control. Because when you reach this level… a single word can erase creation."
Haruto's golden eyes flicked back over his shoulder, still glowing with the echo of Erasure Edict. His tone? Cool. Flat. Like he was just getting warmed up.
"Let's try Black Hole Magic."
The words landed like a boulder in a pond.
The students—still reeling from what they just witnessed—snapped to attention. Their faces were frozen in expressions of stunned disbelief, as if their brains were still catching up with what their eyes had seen.
But Haruto wasn't done. Not even close.
They needed more than a demonstration. They needed motivation—the kind that burns itself into your soul and makes you train like your future depends on it. Because it does.
"Get ready," he said.
He turned back to face the abyss of space, calm as ever. He didn't move. He didn't speak another word. He didn't need to.
Just one thought—and the universe bent.
A pulse shimmered through the void. Space twisted. Stars bent inward.
And then—a black hole appeared.
Not an illusion. Not a projection.
A true stellar black hole, hovering in the distance like a gaping wound in reality.
Haruto's voice was smooth, collected. A lecture in the tone of a god.
"There are four types of black holes you can create with Black Hole Magic."
The students could barely breathe. Their eyes locked onto the spinning vortex, where light was being eaten alive.
Haruto raised a single hand. His palm opened toward the singularity.
With a flicker of mana—just a flicker—the black hole expanded, shifting shape.
"This is the second: an intermediate black hole."
The vortex deepened, warped wider, and grew darker still. The stars around it blurred like paint on wet glass.
He added more mana, this time only slightly—but the reaction was massive.
The void buckled.
The gravitational pull turned violent, reality screaming in silence.
"Third form: supermassive black hole."
Planets that had once hung in the distant background disappeared into its pull.
Then, with a strange reversal of pressure—the black hole shrank, compressing into a flickering orb of darkness the size of a coin. It hung there in space, yet felt… heavier. Denser. Like it could collapse the moment you blinked.
"And finally… miniature black hole."
He lowered his hand. The dark orb vanished with a snap, erased as if it had never existed.
Haruto turned to face them again. His eyes were calm, almost tired.
"To use Black Hole Magic to its fullest potential, you'd normally need a mountain of mana."
He held up two fingers.
"But if you have True Mana? You can create all of this… with just a drop."
Silence. Thick, crushing silence. No one dared to speak.
The demonstration wasn't just overwhelming—it was humbling. Inspiring. Terrifying.
Exactly what Haruto intended.
Somewhere far from the reach of light, a circular chamber lay steeped in shadows.
Five figures stood facing each other, cloaked in white. Three bore the shapes of men, two of women. None revealed their faces.
One of the men spoke first—his voice sharp, arrogant, dripping with pride.
"Tell me why we're even wasting our time. All this effort to take down a nation that's been around for—what? Three months? And what's the damn place called again?"
Another man answered, his tone more measured.
"The Satoria Federation. And yes… we do need to take this seriously. They killed thirty-five thousand of our soldiers—men who marched with Actheria. Not even she or Kieran survived. Only five soldiers managed to crawl away with their lives."
A calm, smooth voice joined in from the third man—Raiven.
"When those five woke, we questioned them. They claimed they were attacked… by a humanoid spider. The rest were slaughtered."
One of the women spoke then—her voice soft, almost tender.
"A humanoid spider? How? Our soldiers could have cut them down with ease."
The arrogant man scoffed.
"Impossible. As Selune said, they should have been nothing more than an inconvenience."
The second woman stepped forward, her tone firm—commanding.
"No. You're forgetting history. For centuries, the Spider King was always weaker than his own subordinates. The only thing that made him worth noting was the tradition—when a Spider King is born, a single, powerful guardian is born alongside him to protect him."
Her gaze swept over them all.
"But now… the Spider King has evolved into a Spider Emperor. That changes everything. His subordinates will be as strong as he is."
She paused, letting the weight of her words settle.
"It's like this: if you build an army of a hundred dragons, but their leader is a goblin, they will fight like goblins—and die like goblins. But if you build an army of a hundred goblins, and their leader is a dragon… every last goblin will fight like a dragon."
Silence filled the dark chamber.
And for the first time, none of them looked so certain.
The tension in the dark chamber eased just enough for movement.
The arrogant man folded his arms, a smirk tugging at his lips.
"Yeah… guess you're right about that. My soldiers are already geared up."
Raiven gave a small nod.
"As are mine. We're all ready—just waiting for the King's orders… and his strategy."
The arrogant man chuckled, pride lacing every syllable.
"This will be over quickly. Our kingdom has stood for over a thousand years, and our King has sixty-nine years of battlefield mastery. There's no way we lose to some starter nation."
Another man's voice cut in, quieter but firm.
"Confidence is fine. But don't underestimate them."
The arrogant man's smirk faltered.
"Hey, don't you have faith in our King?"
A pause. Then Raiven exhaled softly.
"I have faith. But I also have… caution. Now, if you'll excuse me."
He vanished into the shadows without another word.
Selune's voice came next, calm as a still lake.
"I'll be going as well."
The second woman inclined her head.
"Same here."
The arrogant man waved them off with a grin.
"Yeah, yeah. See you all on the battlefield."
From the darkness came Raiven's fading voice.
"Soon enough."
One by one, the chamber emptied—until only silence
Days passed.
In the heart of Neo, the capital under Masaki's control, life moved with the easy rhythm of prosperity.
Merchants called out prices in the bustling market. The scent of fresh bread and sizzling meat mingled with the sharp tang of spices. In the city's center, a vast pond mirrored the clear blue sky, its glassy surface framed by short, manicured grass — perfect for a picnic.
All of it sat under the watchful shadow of Neo's giant stone walls. Archers, dressed in sleek black, stood vigilant at every vantage point.
One of them stiffened, his voice cracking through the calm.
"Captain! There's… something in the forest!"
The Captain strode forward — tall, red hair falling just to his shoulders. He wore loose white trousers and a black sleeveless shirt, a crimson half-coat hanging from one arm, the other sleeve draped and open. His eyes narrowed, scanning the horizon.
The forest — nearly fifty kilometers away — ringed the city like a dark crown. And there, in its shadow, the Captain saw them.
A thousand wolves, each wreathed in black fire. Their eyes burned an unnatural purple, flames licking back from their skulls. They snarled and growled at the city from the treeline, but none crossed into the sunlight.
The Captain's voice dropped, almost to a whisper.
"…My God."
One wolf stepped forward, testing the light. Its paw hissed and smoked as if dipped in acid. It recoiled, snarling in frustration.
"They can't move beyond the sunlight," the Captain muttered, gaze flicking upward.
The sky was flawless — no clouds, no shade, and still hours until sunset.
His jaw tightened.
"This is serious. Go to the Vanguard Guild. We need every soldier and mage on the wall before dark. We do not wait for nightfall."
"Yes, Captain!"
The archer bolted for the stairs, boots pounding against stone, while the Captain kept his eyes fixed on the black flames smoldering at the forest's edge.
A sudden, violent earthquake ripped through Neo.
Stone walls shuddered. Market stalls rattled. People lost their footing, cries filling the air.
"Are we under attack?!" someone shouted.
On the wall, Captain Robin whipped his head back toward the forest — and froze.
A grey mist was spreading, curling between the trees, rolling toward the city like a living thing.
His brows furrowed.
"What the hell now…?"
And then he saw it.
A colossal, ethereal figure emerged from the fog.
Its limbs were impossibly long, tapering into jagged, spectral claws that seemed to fray into the mist itself.
The faceless head tilted — just slightly — as if studying him from afar.
Wisps trailed from its back, black strands unraveling into nothingness.
It stepped forward.
The ground roared again — another earthquake. And another.
Archers gripped their bows tighter, panic flickering in their eyes.
"Captain Robin!" a voice called from below.
Robin glanced down. White hair, red eyes — Daiki.
"Perfect timing," Robin muttered.
Daiki's tone was sharp, commanding.
"What's going on out there?"
Robin's gaze flicked back to the mist.
"…Better if you see it yourself."
That was enough. If Robin didn't know, it was dangerous.
Behind Daiki, ten thousand soldiers stood in perfect formation — white armor gleaming, golden dragons emblazoned across their chests.
The massive iron gate groaned open, separating the safe heart of the city from the unknown beyond.
A familiar voice came from behind.
"Huh! Going without us?"
Daiki smirked, not even turning.
"Oh no, I just assumed the Adventurer's Guild would run away with their tails between their legs."
Kei — middle-aged, black hair, green eyes — grinned.
"Hah! Funny. That's exactly what I was about to say."
Behind him, thousands of guild members advanced, weapons and staves ready — swordsmen, mages, tanks, all in full battle gear.
The mist kept creeping closer.
The figure stop.
The figure's head tilted back, facing the flawless blue sky.
Its faceless visage… shifted.
Six thin, crimson lines appeared — three on each side — like cuts made by invisible blades.
Dark blood trickled from them, slow at first, then faster.
And then —
The wounds tore wide open.
Blood sprayed outward in a frenzy as the cuts became mouths.
Six of them. All screaming at once.
The sound that followed was no roar, no cry — it was a nightmare given voice.
A distorted, metallic shriek that seemed to scrape the soul itself.
Kei dropped to his knees instantly, clutching his ears, face twisted in agony.
Guild members staggered, some vomiting from the pressure.
Those too slow to react… died.
A merchant in the marketplace — selling grilled meat — stared in confusion, frozen, until his head exploded in a wet burst. The remains splattered across his stall, sizzling as they hit the cooking fire.
Two children played near the edge of the square.
A boy, six years old, short green hair, yellow eyes — reacted on instinct, hands clamping over his ears.
But his sister…
She wasn't fast enough.
Her long green hair whipped as the force hit. Her head burst apart.
Blood painted the boy's face. He stared, eyes wide in horror, at the headless body still kneeling before collapsing forward into the ground.
Above the city, the sky dimmed unnaturally.
The moon crept across the sun — an eclipse.
No… not natural.
A power.
The figure's power.
As daylight died, the shadows stretched long. The dark wolves — once held at bay by the sunlight — padded forward, their flaming bodies spilling into the open, growls rumbling through the ground itself.
The monstrous scream finally stopped.
From the wall, Robin shouted at Kei and Daiki.
"Go! Now! It's turning dark — somehow!"
Then, softer to himself, voice tight with dread:
"I need to see if Yukina and Kasumi are alive…"
---
Inside a modest home, a woman with flowing blue hair and eyes like the sea knelt on the floor, holding her daughter close. The little girl, Kasumi, shared her mother's beauty — and her fear. Both had their hands clamped over their ears.
As the sound faded, Kasumi hesitated, slowly lowering her hands.
"Mother… what's happening?" she asked, her voice trembling.
Yukina hugged her tighter.
"It's okay… Daddy will take care of it, Kasumi."
The bedroom door creaked open.
Robin stood there — or rather, his clone.
Kasumi ran to him and hugged his legs. He knelt, smiling faintly, patting her head. She smiled back, briefly forgetting her fear. Robin's eyes shifted to Yukina.
"You okay?"
She rose, already knowing it wasn't really him, but asked anyway.
"What's going on?"
Robin stepped forward quickly, ushering both toward the far side of the room.
"We're under attack."
He threw open a closet, yanked a mat aside, and revealed a trapdoor.
Yukina froze. "Under attack?" Her voice was tight with disbelief.
"Yes," Robin said, pulling it open. "And I have a feeling… we're not going to win this one."
"By who?"
"The Satoria Federation."
"What? They can't just attack us out of nowhere!"
"They can," Robin said, his voice hard. "We started this war the moment we attacked without warning. Winning one battle doesn't end a war. Until there's a treaty or a surrender, the enemy gets to choose when to strike back."
Yukina stared, pale.
Robin gripped her shoulders.
"Don't worry. Take Kasumi, go down, and keep moving until you're far from the city. I'll hold them off as long as I can."
Kasumi's small hand tugged at Robin's sleeve, her yellow eyes shimmering.
"D… Daddy… what about you?"
Robin forced a smile he didn't feel.
"It's gonna be alright, sweetie."
The floor jolted violently — an explosion, close enough to rattle the windows. Dust drifted from the ceiling.
Robin's voice hardened.
"There's no time — go!"
He pulled them to the trapdoor. His clone's body flickered, edges blurring, the hand gripping the doorframe starting to dissolve.
Yukina crouched, helping Kasumi down the ladder into the dim passage. Then she turned back to Robin. For one heartbeat, they simply looked at each other — the air heavy with everything unspoken.
She stepped forward, pressing her lips to his. Even through the magic, he could feel her warmth. When she pulled away, her voice was low, breaking.
"Please… come back."
"I will," he lied, voice steady. "Go. Now."
She climbed down after their daughter.
Robin shut the trapdoor, slid the mat back into place, and closed the closet.
Under his breath:
"Please… escape safely."
The battlefield was already drenched in chaos. The long, shadowy figure stood motionless in the distance, while soldiers and Adventurers clashed desperately with the ravenous wolves.
One wolf leapt high, bypassing a shield line, and sank its teeth into an Adventurer's neck. Flesh tore like paper, and a spray of crimson painted the air. The man's scream was cut short as his body went limp.
Another Adventurer fell moments later. A wolf lunged for his exposed back, jaws wide—
—but a soldier rushed in at the last possible second, sword swinging down in a decisive arc. The blade connected—yet the moment it struck the beast's black, flaming hide, the fire leapt from fur to steel, then to the soldier himself. In the span of a heartbeat, his entire body ignited. He didn't even have time to cry out before he was reduced to burning ash.
The tide was turning. The wolves were overwhelming the defenders, their monstrous forms cutting through the lines. Victory for the beasts seemed certain—
Until Robin raised his bow.
Drawing the string back, he aimed not at the wolves but toward the night sky. His arrow flew high into the darkness, vanishing into the clouds—
—and then the heavens opened.
A thousand golden arrows rained down like divine wrath, striking the wolves with unerring precision. Those that were feasting fell where they stood, pierced clean through. Those charging toward the walls were cut down mid-stride, their bodies collapsing before they could take another breath.
Something unnatural began to unfold.
The wolves broke formation, splitting into pairs—twenty in all. Each pair drew close, their bodies shimmering, half of their forms dissolving into glittering stardust. Then the two halves merged, twisting together in a grotesque spiral until they became one. From each fusion erupted a golden beam that shot into the night sky. One after another, the beams flared, until all twenty blazed like celestial pillars.
Daiki's eyes widened.
This is bad.
He scanned the battlefield. Corpses littered the ground—soldiers and Adventurers alike, their lifeless bodies strewn like broken dolls. Only a handful of survivors remained, their weapons shaking in bloodied hands.
On the city wall, a mage stood beside Robin, gripping an obsidian staff crowned with a glowing orb. She wore a wide, ornate purple hat that shadowed her snow-white hair and back eyes. Her attire—revealing her chest and hips—spoke of elegance and danger in equal measure.
She narrowed her gaze at the sky.
"It seems," she murmured, "they are… merging."
Kei's voice cracked under his breath.
Merging!?
The golden beams faded.
From the fading light emerged something that should not exist—a slithering abomination dragging itself forward on limbs far too many and far too alien. Each step left trails of black ichor glistening under the moonlight. Its surface was no skin but a roiling mass of shadow-flesh, twitching tendrils writhing, bulbous eyes rolling in every direction. Rows of serrated teeth gnashed within a mouth that split impossibly wide across its face. Its clawed hands flexed—hungry in a way that felt older than the world.
One soldier's mind broke at the sight. His sword slipped from his numb fingers, the clatter of steel hitting stone stretching into a slow, echoing moment.
The monster—Morghoul—moved.
In an instant, it crossed the distance, moving at relativistic speed, its elongated arm drawing back to smash the soldier's skull clean from his body—
But the blow never landed.
A blade of light intercepted the strike. Daiki stood between them, his own sword braced against Morghoul's claws, his movements faster than thought—faster than light itself.
Morghoul leapt back, his grotesque form twisting in midair. As he descended, he lunged forward—leaning toward Daiki.
Daiki drew his sword, its blade glowing with a fierce blue aura. He held it high, waiting for Morghoul to come close—ready to swing down with precision.
Morghoul's clawed hand shot out as Daiki brought his blade down.
"Don't think the same attack will work on me."
The sword was inches from Morghoul's flesh—then, in a blink, the monster vanished.
Daiki's golden eyes widened. Slowly, he turned his head—searching to his side.
Before he could react, Morghoul's kick struck like thunder, sending Daiki flying. He smashed through three mountains, barreling into a fourth before finally coming to a stop.
---
Meanwhile, another Morghoul charged the city walls. Archers released volley after volley, but arrows simply glanced off the beast's dark, unyielding skin.
A mage beside Robin raised her staff, chanting gravity magic. The Morghoul suddenly felt a crushing weight—thousands of times heavier—but the effect was useless. The monster's innate gravity nullification rendered it immune.
The Morghoul leaned against the wall, crushing archers like insects in seconds.
Kei charged at one of the beasts feasting on a fallen archer, conjuring a blazing mana sword. Moving at light speed, he struck fiercely—
But the Morghoul lifted the soldier it was eating, eyes blazing with raw magical power.
With a fierce gust of wind, Kei's upper body was torn apart, crashing lifeless to the ground.
---
The mage next to Robin unleashed fireballs and lightning bolts, while Robin fired multiple arrows into the charging Morghouls.
But all attacks were nullified, absorbed, or deflected.
Death seemed inevitable. Both closed their eyes, bracing for the end.
---
Suddenly—the monsters froze.
---
Back in the mountains, Daiki lay in a crater, breath shallow but steady. A faint flicker of a mana barrier shimmered around him—absorbing the full impact.
He pushed himself up, gripping the edge of the crater.
Daiki's eyes snapped open. Morghoul was hurtling toward him at impossible speed.
Launching himself forward, Daiki summoned a massive ice formation above the beast.
With a fierce swing, he sent the towering iceberg crashing down.
Morghoul looked up just in time—mere centimeters from the icefall.
In an instant, it activated the Exchange skill, swapping places with Daiki.
---
Daiki gasped—he wasn't where he thought. The colossal shadow looming over him made it clear: he was trapped beneath the ice.
He looked up just as the iceberg slammed into his face and shattered against the ground, sending shockwaves of frost that blanketed the mountains and rivers in ice.
At Robin and the mage the Morghoul says something in a language that they can't understand
Missing complete kill 42 ,000 mortals have been successful
The Morghoul paused, its bulbous eyes fixing on Robin and the mage.
In a guttural, otherworldly language—alien and harsh— it spoke words neither of them could comprehend.
"Mission complete. Kill: 42,000 mortals. Success confirmed."
Without warning, all the Morghouls dissolved into thick, swirling mist, leaving behind a chilling silence and a field of lifeless bodies.
Robin stumbled backward, the weight of exhaustion crashing down on him. He exhaled deeply, trying to steady his racing heart.
The mage's voice broke the silence, trembling with disbelief:
"What… just happened?"
At the heart of Neo's capital, inside a luxurious mansion's grand office, Neo the lord of this capital stood frozen—stabbed in the chest.
A long sword was pinned deep into his torso, its gleaming blade still lodged in the ornate wall behind him, casting a stark shadow across the room.
Neo wasn't the only one caught off guard. Haruto's forces were relentless, launching coordinated strikes on multiple other capitals.
The question on everyone's mind: How will Haruto's master plan unfold?