The Plateau Golem's roar split the sky.
For a heartbeat, the world went silent—then the light came.
A golden wave burst outward from its core, bright enough to erase shadows, reality, and hope. Then came the falling lights—hundreds, thousands of spears of radiance raining from above, each one erasing whatever it touched.
The ground burned white.
Mountains dissolved.
Voices vanished mid-cry.
"Barrier—!" I screamed, slamming the Eternal Quill into the ground. A dome of pure light wrapped around me and the few still standing—Crystella, Makoto, Clara, and Elra.
Everything outside that barrier… disappeared.
When the radiance finally faded, the battlefield was gone. The armies—our friends, our allies—had been reduced to ash and silence. Only the five of us remained, standing amid a wasteland of glass and smoke.
My breath shook. "No… all of them…"
Clara fell to her knees, whispering prayers through tears. Elra clutched her burned arm, trembling but alive. Crystella was barely standing, her ice armor cracked, eyes dim with exhaustion.
Makoto looked at me, tears and fury blending in her eyes.
"Sensei… what do we do now…?"
I stared up at the Golem. Its body blazed like a false sun, energy still pouring from its core. Every instinct told me this was the end. But somewhere deep inside—beneath the fear, beneath the grief—something else stirred.
Resolve.
"We end this," I said quietly. "Here and now. Even if we fall with it."
Crystella tightened her grip on her staff, frost coiling around her fingers.
"Then let's make it count."
Clara and Elra rose beside her, faces hardened through tears. Makoto opened her spellbook, light swirling around her words.
Five souls against a god of stone.
And as the Golem lifted its arm again, preparing to erase what little remained of the world, we charged.
The Golem's chest blazed brighter than the sun, and in that instant, I understood—
it was charging again.
"It's aiming straight for us—scatter!" I shouted.
A beam of pure light struck the ground where we stood. The earth shattered, the force hurling us into the air like leaves in a storm. For a heartbeat, gravity forgot us—then instinct took over.
I twisted midair, using the blast's force to propel myself forward—toward the Golem.
The world blurred below as I sprinted along a massive fragment of falling stone. My boots hit the Golem's forearm with a shock that rattled my bones. The surface was uneven, jagged, rivers of molten gold running beneath its stone skin.
"Sensei—!" Makoto's voice echoed faintly below.
I didn't look back. I couldn't.
This was my only chance.
Every step shook the ground, but I kept running—up the Golem's arm, dodging bursts of molten energy that erupted like geysers. My coat burned at the edges; my lungs screamed. But my grip on the Eternal Quill never faltered.
Below, the others fought with everything they had.
Crystella unleashed waves of freezing storms to slow its movement.
Clara's fire magic clashed against the molten veins, forcing them to cool.
Makoto's voice carried spells of reinforcement and courage, her words fueling my steps.
And Elra—always smiling even in chaos—was blasting the Golem's joints to keep it unsteady.
"Just a little longer," I whispered. "Hold on for me."
The Golem turned its massive head toward me, its golden eyes burning with recognition—like it knew who I was.
Its chest opened, revealing a swirling core of radiant energy, the heart of a god.
The wind roared, the heat scorched. But I raised the Eternal Quill, its light resonating with the world itself.
"You've destroyed enough."
And I leapt straight toward the Golem's heart.
The wind howled as I reached the Golem's chest, heat searing my skin. The core pulsed before me like a sun trapped in stone—blinding, furious, alive.
"This is it…"
I drew my blade, its edge glowing with the same light as the Eternal Quill. My grip tightened until my knuckles turned white.
Below, I could still hear them—my allies, my friends.
Crystella stood at the forefront, her magic surging like a storm.
"Domain of Eternal Winter—Part Two!"
A second wave of frost exploded from her staff, even greater than before. The Golem's massive legs were engulfed in ice, freezing its movements mid-step. The ground turned to crystal beneath it, cracks of blue light racing upward.
"Hold it still!" I shouted from above.
Clara and Elra didn't hesitate—twin pillars of flame and wind spiraled around Crystella's domain, sealing the frost with burning pressure. The combined magic created a violent reaction, forcing the Golem's lower body to harden and fracture.
Makoto stood behind them, shouting incantations that made their spells flow faster, stronger, more synchronized. Her hair whipped in the storm as her voice carried through the battlefield:
"Sensei! Now—finish it!"
The Golem, desperate, began to charge another blast, but its body was slowing. The ice and heat locked its massive frame in place. This was our moment.
I sprinted along its chest, the glow of the core reflecting in my eyes. Every heartbeat felt like thunder in my veins.
"This world doesn't need gods—" I raised the sword, its blade resonating with the quill's light. "—it needs people who still believe in hope!"
With a roar, I plunged the sword straight into the Golem's core.
Light erupted. A shockwave of energy tore the sky open, splitting clouds apart as if day and night collided at once.
The Golem screamed—a sound that shattered the mountains themselves. Cracks ran through its body, molten rivers bursting outward as the light from the core began to collapse inward.
Below, Crystella's ice shattered into shards, glimmering like stars. Clara and Elra were thrown back by the explosion, shielding Makoto behind them.
I held the sword in place, pushing deeper against the force trying to throw me off.
"Fall—damn you—fall!!"
The core shattered.
The Plateau Golem froze mid-motion, then began to crumble. The sky rained fragments of glowing stone as the colossal titan collapsed, shaking the earth one final time.
And then—silence.
Just when I thought it was over… the Golem moved.
Its shattered body trembled, the light in its core flickering like dying embers—then flaring once more.
"No… it's not done yet!"
The earth screamed as the Plateau Golem released one last surge of power. A golden shockwave erupted from its chest, rippling across the battlefield.
We didn't have time to react.
The air itself tore apart. I was thrown back, crashing into the ground hard enough to make the world spin. My vision blurred—everything was light and dust.
For a moment, I thought I'd gone deaf. There was only the ringing.
I coughed, forcing myself up, my body trembling.
"Everyone… is everyone okay?!"
Shapes moved in the haze—Crystella kneeling, Elra dragging Makoto away from the debris. Yulleus's barrier flickered before fading completely.
We were alive. Barely.
But then… I saw her.
Clara lay motionless near the crater's edge, her robes burned, her staff snapped in two beside her. The faint shimmer of her protective magic was gone.
I stumbled forward, my legs weak.
"Clara…"
No response.
I knelt beside her, lifting her hand—it was still warm. She had shielded us from the brunt of the blast.
"You idiot… you always jump in first," I whispered, my voice cracking.
Her lips curved just faintly, as if hearing me, as if smiling one last time.
" I'm sorry, Riureas…"
And then, nothing.
The wind grew still. The glow of the fallen Golem faded completely, leaving only silence and dust over a broken battlefield.
For a long time, I didn't move. I just held her hand.
"Clara… you were the first to believe in me… the one who gave me a place when I had nothing."
My throat tightened.
"I swear… your kindness won't be forgotten. Not ever."
The others gathered slowly, none speaking a word. Crystella looked down, her eyes glistening. Even Anastasia lowered her head, her expression unreadable.
And there, ruins of victory, the price of peace lay still.
A week passed.
The battlefield had grown quiet — too quiet. The scent of burned earth was gone, replaced by the faint fragrance of lilies drifting through the air.
The Federation was still recovering, yet today… the entire kingdom stood still.
Clara's funeral was held in the Garden of Dawn — the place she once called her sanctuary. White petals fell like snow from the sakura trees, dancing on the wind. Soldiers, citizens, mages, and nobles alike gathered in silence. No one spoke above a whisper.
Elra, Crystella, Vellia, and Makoto stood beside me, their faces pale and eyes swollen from tears. Even the sky seemed to mourn — dim clouds veiled the sunlight, turning the world grey.
Her coffin, adorned with silver flowers and her witch's insignia, rested at the center of the garden. The wind carried the soft sound of chimes she once hung here — her favorite melody.
I stepped forward, the Eternal Quill in my hand trembling slightly.
"Clara…" I whispered, my voice breaking. "You were the first to trust me in this world. The first to call me friend. I thought we'd build this place together — that we'd live to see peace."
The soldiers lowered their heads. Some wept quietly.
I knelt, placing her quill — the one she used to write spells and recipes — atop her coffin. "You always said magic is more than power. That it's a promise… to protect, to care, to bring light. I'll keep that promise for you."
Behind me, Crystella wiped her tears. "She'd scold you for crying," she said softly, forcing a smile.
Makoto nodded faintly. "She really would."
I gave a small, broken laugh through the ache in my chest. "Yeah… she would."
The bells tolled — slow, solemn, echoing across the city. As they did, I raised my hand, releasing a small orb of golden light into the sky. One by one, the others followed. Soon, the air was filled with glowing spheres — Clara's light, reborn in a thousand stars.
"Rest now, Clara," I whispered. "You've done enough."
The wind blew gently through the garden, and for just a moment…
I swore I could hear her laughter in the breeze.
Months passed. The world moved on, as it always does… but I couldn't.
The snow had already melted, leaving the cobblestone path slick with dew as I walked alone toward the cemetery. A quiet breeze brushed past, carrying the faint scent of roses from the garden nearby — the same kind Clara used to plant in her courtyard.
Her grave was simple, elegant. A silver plaque bore her name, now faintly weathered by time. I knelt before it, brushing off the leaves that had gathered around the base.
"Hey, Clara…" I murmured. "It's been a while."
Silence answered me, but I could almost imagine her voice — soft, teasing, always telling me to stop worrying so much.
"I kept my promise," I continued. "The festival grounds… they've been rebuilt. People are smiling again. The Federation stands strong, just like you wanted."
I stayed there for a moment longer, letting the wind carry my words away. Then I stood, turning toward the distant hills — where her mansion stood like a silent monument of its own.
By the time I arrived, the sun was setting behind it. The mansion was covered in ivy now, its once-bright windows dark and quiet. I opened the creaking doors, stepping inside. Dust swirled in the fading light.
Every corner still carried her presence — the books on the shelves, the faint scent of herbs from her old study, the cup she left on the table that morning before the battle.
"I'll close this place for good," I whispered. "But I'll keep everything here… just as it was."
I locked the doors gently and pressed my hand against the frame one last time.
"Thank you, Clara… for everything."
As I walked away, the final rays of sunlight hit the windows, and for a fleeting moment, I could've sworn I saw her silhouette by the curtains — smiling, like she always did.
A few quiet days passed since I last visited Clara's grave.
The air felt lighter now — not because the grief was gone, but because I'd learned to carry it.
And now, it was time to move forward again.
The Festival of Freedom — the dream Clara believed in more than anyone — was back in motion.
I stood at the balcony of the Federation's central hall, watching the streets below. The once-silent city now buzzed with life again. Merchants hauled decorations, children ran carrying flags, and the smell of baked bread and roasted nuts filled the air.
Workers hung colorful banners across the rooftops, their voices echoing with laughter. The wounds from the battle had begun to heal.
"Elra, how are the supplies?" I asked.
She checked her clipboard, smiling. "All good! The shipments from the Northern Alliance just arrived this morning."
"Excellent," I nodded, then turned to Crystella and Vellia, who were discussing layout designs with the architects. "Make sure the stage is reinforced. We can't risk anything collapsing during the ceremony."
Vellia saluted playfully. "You worry too much, Riureas. We've got this."
I chuckled softly, but in truth, my heart felt heavier than it looked. Every moment of joy in this festival would carry Clara's memory — the dream she never got to see fulfilled.
As I walked through the busy square, the people greeted me with bright smiles and hopeful words. "Long live the Federation!" "Thank you, Riureas!" "This year will be the best one yet!"
I smiled back, though a quiet thought lingered in my chest.
Clara, we're doing it. Your dream… our dream… will finally come true.
The sound of construction, music rehearsals, and chatter filled the air — the perfect symphony of a city reborn.
And for the first time in a long while, I felt that same spark again —
the light of purpose.
Tomorrow — the Festival of Freedom will finally begin.
After months of rebuilding, planning, and endless sleepless nights… it was almost here.
Today, though, was the test run.
A single day to make sure everything worked — the lights, the stage, the performances, the food stalls, the magical displays. One last rehearsal before history began.
The city was alive with movement. Workers rushed across the plaza, stringing banners and floating lanterns enchanted with soft gold light. Musicians tuned their instruments under the main archway, their melodies echoing faintly through the streets.
I stood in the center of it all, clipboard in hand, surrounded by my companions.
"Elra, how's the catering preparation?"
"All dishes are set for testing! Just… maybe don't try the spicy stew first," she said nervously, wiping a bit of sauce from her cheek.
"Noted," I chuckled. "Crystella, decorations?"
"Perfectly aligned," she replied with a confident smile. "The snow crystal banners should shimmer properly once the sun sets."
"Vellia, defenses?"
"Guards stationed, barriers tested, and patrols doubled," she said proudly. "Even Anastasia's demon knights are cooperating for security."
I turned toward the stage — and there she was. Anastasia Enamorado herself, speaking with the technicians, her crimson and black dress catching the afternoon light. Despite her title as a Demon Lord, she looked at peace, her expression calm.
When she noticed me watching, she smiled faintly. "Everything's ready, Riureas. Tomorrow, your people will see what true unity looks like."
Her words carried weight — not just hope, but a promise.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, the city lights flickered on one by one. Floating lanterns drifted into the evening sky, painting it in hues of gold and blue. Laughter filled the streets as children tested the games and mages practiced their light displays.
For the first time in months, I let myself breathe.
"This is it," I said quietly, watching the glowing city below. "Tomorrow… the Federation's dream begins."
The wind carried my words away — toward the stars above, and maybe… toward Clara too.
Morning came with the sound of bells.
The entire Federation City was already awake before dawn — streets glowing with ribbons of magic light, banners fluttering, and laughter echoing through every alley. From the tallest towers to the smallest stalls, the Festival of Freedom had finally begun.
The day we had all worked for.
The dream Clara once spoke of.
I stood on the balcony of the central stage, overlooking thousands of people gathered across the plaza. Merchants, nobles, mages, adventurers — even emissaries from other nations stood shoulder to shoulder. For one day, the world was at peace.
Crystella approached beside me, smiling proudly. "You did it, Riureas. The festival is perfect."
I shook my head slightly. "We did it."
Down below, Elra and Vellia managed the food stalls and decorations. The aroma of fresh bread, roasted meat, and sweet pastries filled the air. Music from the bards echoed through the city as floating ribbons of light twirled above them.
Then, I saw her — Anastasia.
She stood on the lower platform with her knights, her crimson eyes reflecting the golden morning light. Even as a Demon Lord, she blended seamlessly with the people, smiling warmly as children handed her flowers.
I stepped forward to the microphone crystal, my voice carrying across the plaza.
"Citizens of the Federation, friends from across the world — welcome to the first ever Festival of Freedom!"
The crowd erupted into cheers. I waited until the sound settled, then continued.
"This festival isn't just a celebration. It's proof that even in a world divided by war, peace can bloom again. Together, we've overcome monsters, loss, and sorrow. And today, we celebrate not just survival… but unity."
Applause thundered through the air. I felt my throat tighten for a moment as my thoughts drifted to Clara — you'd love this view, wouldn't you?
"Let the Festival of Freedom… begin!"
With a single gesture, I released a spark of golden light into the sky — and the celebration erupted.
Fireworks burst like stars.
Music swelled through the air.
Magic lights danced across the streets as children ran under falling petals of enchanted color.
Makoto appeared beside me, smiling as she watched the joy below. "It's beautiful, Sensei. I think Clara would be proud."
"Yeah," I whispered. "She would."
For now, there was no war. No monsters. No sorrow.
Only laughter, color, and peace — the world we had fought for.
But deep down, a quiet feeling tugged at me — that this peace was only the calm before something far greater.
The festival was at its peak — laughter, colors, and cheers filled the entire capital. I was walking down the main street, greeting the citizens and visitors when I felt something… strange.
A surge of mana — old, familiar, impossible to mistake.
I turned toward the crowd, scanning the sea of faces. Then I saw her.
A woman standing calmly amidst the festival's glow, her long violet hair swaying gently in the breeze. Around her floated nine sleek muskets, orbiting in perfect formation like silent guardians, and on her back — one massive ether-cannon, humming faintly with restrained power.
My heart skipped a beat.
"Selvaria…" I whispered.
The Purple Arsenal. One of the strongest allies we once had before the world's rewrite — before everything changed.
She smiled softly when our eyes met. "It's been a long time, Riureas."
I walked closer, my steps unsteady. "You… remember?"
Her expression softened, a faint sorrow flickering behind her confident gaze. "Everything. The battles. The old world. Even the moment it all… restarted."
The sounds of the festival faded around us. For a second, it was just the two of us, standing in the middle of the crowd that had no idea what this reunion meant.
"How?" I asked quietly. "You shouldn't have been able to…"
Selvaria glanced at the floating weapons around her — each one gleaming faintly with purple light. "Let's just say I left a little insurance before the rewrite happened. A piece of myself, anchored outside time."
She stepped forward, her boots clicking softly against the stone. "And when the seal of the Plateau Golem shattered, that anchor resonated. I woke up — with everything still intact."
I couldn't help but smile faintly. "You never change, do you?"
She chuckled. "Neither do you, Riureas. Still trying to hold the whole world together."
The muskets floated down slightly, glimmering in the sunlight. Around us, the people continued celebrating, unaware of the quiet storm that had just reappeared.
Selvaria's gaze turned serious. "You should know — the rewrite didn't erase everything. Something… or someone… is still trying to restore the old timeline."
I froze. "What do you mean?"
She shook her head. "We'll talk soon. But for now—" she looked up at the glowing banners and fireworks bursting overhead, "—you deserve this moment of peace."
And as the music swelled again, I realized something deeply unsettling:
If Selvaria remembered everything from before the rewrite…
then maybe this world's peace was only temporary.