Ash. Smoke. Fire. The battlefield was unrecognizable—a charred wasteland littered with the broken bodies of heroes and monsters alike. The twelve strongest warriors of the realm had fallen, one by one, under the overwhelming might of the Revenant King, Zephyr, and his six generals. Only one remained: a young mage, clutching the last vestiges of his strength, his chest heaving with exhaustion.
Arslan's eyes darted across the ruin, scanning the battlefield. His friends, his comrades, the twelve who had fought beside him for the fate of the world—they were all gone. The generals had been defeated only moments ago, leaving only Zephyr standing, his form towering and terrifying, yet undeniably human in shape. Arslan's heart pounded as he faced the being who had once been a man, now a force of vengeance and power beyond imagining.
The Revenant King's aura pressed down like a physical weight. Each breath Arslan took was a struggle; each step forward, a gamble with death. He remembered every moment of the battles—the strategies, the sacrifices, the spells unleashed in desperation—and he knew this was the end.
Desperation drove him to the edge of reason. The only hope left was the forbidden knowledge he had uncovered: the Soulbreaker Rite. The text had spoken of its power—a one-time spell, capable of turning the tide of battle no matter the difference in strength. The cave, the ancient artifacts… the cost had been written plainly: the caster's soul would be irreparably damaged.
Arslan's hands shook as he called forth the Eclipse of Eternity, the artifact necessary to activate the Rite. He was an eighth-circle mage in soul, a requirement he barely met. Time was slipping away, and the lives of countless innocents weighed on his shoulders.
He cast the spell.
A searing pain tore through his soul as the battlefield seemed to shatter and rebuild itself around him. Zephyr's scream of fury and shock echoed faintly as Arslan felt his very essence being stretched, reshaped, and carried through time. Then—a whisper.
"Good luck..."
It was faint, almost imperceptible, yet it carried warmth, reassurance, and a strange sense of guidance. Arslan didn't understand its origin, but it rooted him, steadied him, and calm his mind and suddenly he thought:
"I missed my academy life."
The world blurred. The pain in his soul screamed, a constant reminder of the price he had paid. And then… darkness.