Chapter 157: A Whisper from the Dimensional Rift
The stranger's brows subtly furrowed, and his hand lifted—not aggressively, but in a motion that seemed to push her away. Yet to Canna, that simple gesture felt like death brushing across her skin.
She stumbled backward, heart pounding. But before the panic could claim her, an arm seized her from behind, anchoring her—a gentle tug that pulled her into a protective embrace.
He steadied her quietly, and then stepped forward, placing himself between her and that growing pressure.
In that moment, the suffocating dread drained from Canna's limbs. The sensation of needles crawling across her skin vanished. His silhouette shielded her—not just physically, but from something deeper. Something primal. She could only stare, stunned, her breath caught in her throat.
"Mm?" she murmured.
The girl with midnight hair leaned toward him, sniffing the air curiously. Her eyes narrowed, puzzled. "Smells like... a dimensional fissure?"
She muttered to herself and sniffed again, multiple times—then her expression dimmed, shifting into a strange melancholy. Disappointed, perhaps. Or simply detached.
"Are you lost, little one?" he asked, voice calm but compassionate. "Can't find your way home?"
She didn't resist as he gently patted her head. Her face remained unreadable, impassive.
"I know where my home is," she replied quietly. "It's just... hard to go back."
That answer hung in the air.
"Why? Are you... being hurt at home?" he asked hesitantly.
"Hurt? What do you mean?" she tilted her head, gaze innocent.
"It means... your parents hurt you," he clarified.
"I don't have parents," she said bluntly. "You don't know anything."
Her voice carried neither anger nor pain. Just cold clarity.
Then, without another word, she turned toward the school gates and walked away.
She hadn't gone far before her figure shimmered—and vanished.
No one around them seemed to react. It was as if she'd never been there at all. Forgotten in an instant.
But Canna remembered. She understood. Everyone around had been forced to forget—shrouded by the stranger's power.
Once she was gone, the involuntary fear that gripped Canna slowly melted away. She exhaled shakily.
Then noticed something.
Her hands were clutching the edge of his coat.
Like a frightened child seeking refuge.
Startled by the implication, she yanked her hands away, cheeks flushed with embarrassment.
Just in time for him to turn and catch her flustered movement.
She coughed. "Ahem. So... who was she?"
"First time seeing her," he replied nonchalantly.
"You don't know her?" Canna pressed, skeptical.
"Don't repeat questions. But I have a theory."
The animated adaptations had shown him glimpses—though the designs and atmosphere of the two-dimensional world never fully matched the three-dimensional reality. Still, one detail struck him like lightning.
Dimensional rift.
A phrase whispered by a child. A phrase tied to the source of all things.
"I think I know who she is," he said slowly. "She was born in a dimensional rift. You understand what that means?"
Canna's eyes widened in disbelief, body stiffening.
That existence...
Not a demon. Not a god.
Above both.
Infinite Dragon God.
No, more than that.
Ophis.
The embodiment of the Ouroboros—the serpent that devours itself, symbolizing infinite cycle and limitless power.
Two dragon gods existed in this realm.
Ophis, born from the void between dimensions, and the Great Red, the one who had cast Ophis out from her birthplace.
Their conflict had once torn the sky asunder.
Unable to defeat Great Red, Ophis had wandered the mortal plane—her true home unreachable.
And now, that enigmatic being had appeared at Kuoh Academy.
Lieselotte trembled. To think such a world-ending entity had walked their halls.
Not just a town. Not just a city. Ophis could obliterate a nation with a whim.
Lieselotte's back dripped cold sweat. Her fingers shook as she pointed.
"She treated her like a child," she hissed. "Touched her head. That was the dragon god's head!"
"Professor Byakuya," she snapped. "Don't ever be so irreverent to a being like that again."
He merely sipped his tea, relaxed.
"You overthink things," he replied. "Just because someone's strong doesn't mean they demand reverence. Power doesn't automatically equal superiority in spirit or mind. Treating them delicately doesn't make you wise—it makes you presumptuous."
Byakuya's gaze drifted to where Ophis had vanished.
"She didn't mind," he said. "She felt... like a child. Innocent. Passive."
And that made her dangerous.
Not because of malice—but because of unpredictability.
"You realize what you're saying?" Lieselotte's voice cracked. "If you provoke her, even by accident, this world could vanish."
"Then it's good I didn't," he replied easily. "Your panic says more about you than her."
The tension crackled.
For a moment, everyone in the room stared at him, uncertain whether to scream or pray.
Canna was silent. Her worry wasn't just about Ophis—but about the friend she'd lost.
Friendship had turned to loyalty. Loyalty imposed by divine will.
And now, a new thread of prophecy emerged.
"There's a boy," Byakuya said. "Named Vali."
Her heart lurched. "Vali Lucifer?"
The White Dragon Emperor. A prodigy among devils. The vessel for Albion—the vanquished heavenly dragon sealed inside the Divine Dividing gear.
Vali, once heir to Lucifer's bloodline, now severed from his kind.
"Yes," Byakuya confirmed. "He's allied with Ophis. Joined a group made of defectors, traitors, and exiles from the three major factions."
"And Ophis is the leader?"
"Not actively. They use her name. She uses their reach."
Canna inhaled sharply. "If that's true... if she's no longer alone, then everything changes."
Before anyone could respond, the ground beneath them shimmered.
A magic circle lit the floor.
The sigil of Gremory shifted—becoming one they all recognized with disgust.
Phoenix.
From the circle, fire erupted. Showy. Dramatic. Wasteful.
"Canna!" Lieselotte barked.
"On it. Tsubaki—fire!"
"Yes ma'am!"
Attacks launched before the teleportation settled. Lightning, water, shadow bursts.
The arrogant arrival barely had time to react. His flames exploded, shielding him reflexively—but threatening to engulf the room in incineration.
Just as the fire rose to lethal levels, a series of ornate mirrors manifested around him—trapping the inferno in gleaming reflections.
The room held its breath.