Chapter 9 – Bonds, Blades, and Broken Promises

Last night’s incident…

No—let’s call it what it was:

A goddamn battlefield.

What used to be a pristine hot spring oasis—a sacred place where Elowen could soak her blacksmith-scarred muscles in peace—
…now lies in utter ruin.
Charred rocks. Cracked tiles. Mangled bamboo fences. Steam still rising from scorched earth.

The spring is no longer a spring.
It’s a crime scene.

Elowen stands there, arms crossed, eye bags dark as night, veins twitching in her forehead as she tries—and fails—to contain three magical wrecking balls disguised as girls.

Off to the side, Kline lies on a futon like a war casualty, a dreamy smile plastered across his face.

“Finally… my dream… of seeing girls in a bath together…” he whispers, barely breathing. “Oh… La-la… Hahaha…”

Elowen hurls a washbucket at his face.

BONK.

“Keep your junk in your pants, perv.”

Kline doesn't even flinch. He’s ascended beyond pain.

Elowen groans. “I swear, this place is cursed…”

She turns her fury to the trio of destruction—Luna, Seraphina, and Elysia—each one looking slightly guilty, but mostly annoyed that they didn’t get to finish killing each other.

Elowen crosses her arms tighter. She’s the closest thing to an older sister any of them have—if that sister bench-pressed anvils and had zero tolerance for romantic nonsense.

Behind her—

Randy sits hunched in a chair, towel barely hanging on, his expression drained. Like a boxer at the end of a 12-round beatdown. His eyes are hollow. His soul is on vacation.

He mumbles under his breath like a broken NPC.

“Friday… the 13th… it’s real… then Elm Street… then Halloween… uncle… it’s real… it’s all real…”

The girls glance at him. The guy looks like he’s seen three ghosts. With curves. And magical swords.

Then—

“SOOOO… WHO THE HELL IS GONNA FIX THIS?!”

Elowen’s voice explodes across the ruins like a shockwave.

Her face is red, fists clenched, twin pigtails bouncing as she points at the smoking wreckage that used to be her sanctuary.

The girls flinch.

“U-um… sorry…” they murmur in unison.

Seraphina shrugs. “I never knew Randy was so good at hiding…”

“OH YEAH?!” Elowen shouts, pointing toward the forest.

It looks like a wildfire met a hurricane. Smoke still rising. Birds permanently traumatized.

Luna bows her head. “I apologize for my behavior…”

“REALLY?!” Elowen screams again, spinning to point at what remains of her house.
Which is to say… half a wall and a lot of broken dreams.

Elysia tries to stay positive. “I mean… bright side? Nobody died! Hahaha…”

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN, BRIGHT SIDE?! LOOK AT MY HOUSE!!!” Elowen’s on the edge. She clutches her head with both hands, eyes watering, the chaos finally breaking her.

The entire place looks like it was caught between a boss fight and an earthquake.

“…Sorry…” the girls mumble again.

“SORRY AIN’T ENOUGH!!!” Elowen yells. “You ladies—and you towel-wearing disaster over there!!” she glares at Randy.
“You’re all cleaning this mess up!! Got it!?”

Luna, Seraphina, and Elysia: “Yes, ma’am…” 😔

Kline, still half-conscious, gives a shaky thumbs up. 👍🏻

Randy, still in his chair like a defeated samurai, just nods slowly.

He’s not sure if he’s still alive.

Somewhere within the palace of King Lozla…

The marble corridors are quiet, echoing only the soft footsteps of Princess Verica as she walks through the courtyard hallway, her royal presence trailing behind her like a perfume of command.

But her thoughts?

Far less composed.

Out on the training grounds, Raul swings his sword in radiant arcs of light, sweat gleaming on his sculpted body. Magic pulses around him as he releases a newly awakened skill:

“Holy Blade: Judgement!”

His blade transforms into shining blue crystal—then cuts through the air, freezing the training dolls mid-motion in glowing stasis.

Verica halts.

She watches him with flushed cheeks, her lips parting slightly.

Tonight… maybe again…
My body still aches… from the last time…

She folds her arms, trying to keep her composure, but the hunger in her gaze betrays her regal mask.

Elsewhere in the courtyard, Alfian shows off his grotesquely growing muscles to a small group of girls, hoisting boulders and boasting like a peacock. His body swells unnaturally, pulsing with a power no one can quite place.

Everyone from the academy is changing.

Growing stronger.

Except one.

The teacher.

Kuzman, the old mage, stands alone inside the royal library.

Dust clings to ancient scrolls. Books are scattered like forgotten thoughts. Some of the staff are slumped over desks—faces pale, eyes glazed, touched by magical burnout or maybe despair.

They tried to understand too much.
And the truth poisoned them.

But Kuzman continues. His mind sharper than ever. His heart heavy with doubt.

King Lozla… you’ve already shown signs of unraveling. Summoning unknown souls from another world without foresight, without care…
And Princess Verica… distracted by desire, drunk on the warrior’s body…
This kingdom is tipping into madness.

But there’s something deeper.

Something only Luna whispered to him.

"There’s a force… something unnatural. Anti-Magic. Maybe even Anti-Mage."

He follows the whisper of memory and steps through the shelves—into a hidden passage between ancient drawers. A narrow stone stairwell spirals downward.

He descends.

Below, he finds the ancient chamber—untouched by war, dust, or time.
Books. Scrolls. Arcane blueprints. A stone table marked with runes.

And in the center—
A crystal sphere.

It hums.

Kuzman raises his hands and chants in the Old Tongue:

“Ó mhór chriostail, oscail agus díbirtigh an cheist seo istigh i mo cheann…”
“Great crystal, open and reveal the answer within my mind…”

The sphere blossoms open, light projecting into the air like a magic hologram.

Symbols. Visions. Shapes form—

Then:

Randy.

Wearing armor. Different from anything on this continent. Sleek. Engineered. Earth-made… but fused with something more. His aura blazes with power.

Kuzman’s breath catches.

“…So it’s him…”

He turns to the ancient mural behind the sphere. One he’s studied for decades.

A lone figure.
Slaying dragons.
Defeating demons.

Then—

Tanks. Helicopters. Fighter jets.

Earth’s machines.

But the figure stands triumphant.

A hunter—not from this world—but destined to conquer both.

Kuzman trembles.

“…I banished him…”

The guilt crashes over Kuzman like a tidal wave.

He stumbles back, gripping the edge of the stone table with trembling hands. The ancient crystal pulses beside him, still glowing with Randy’s image—his form shimmering with unrealized power.

“I thought he had no talent. No gift. Just a normal boy…”

His voice cracks. He lowers his head, eyes shut tight.

“…But he was the fulcrum of fate.”

A long silence follows.

Then—
A breath.

Kuzman opens his eyes again. Sharper now. Resolved.

“Princess Luna… please stay with him. Guide him. He’s not just summoned…”
“…He’s chosen.”

He turns to the prophecy-mural one last time.

Then, with a voice barely above a whisper—but ringing with conviction:

“Boy… don’t just survive…
Become what the prophecy saw in you.”

Back at Elowen’s forge-house, the chaos of the bathhouse warzone is now a memory… mostly.

With a mix of magic and raw elbow grease, the place is finally back to normal—give or take a few charred walls and traumatized birds.

Elowen stretches, wiping her brow. “Whew… alright. Finally clean. Now—Randy.”

She turns to him, arms crossed, her tank-top a little soot-stained, her twin pigtails swinging.

“You said you wanted to talk?”

Randy hesitates, then nods. “Yeah… I—”

But before he can finish, Elysia walks up behind him and casually grabs his shoulder.

“We’ve gotta go back. Your uncle’s probably losing his mind by now.”

Randy lifts both hands and laughs nervously. “Heh—come on. He doesn’t worry that much—”

“HE HAS TO!!!” Elysia yells.

Luna steps forward, arms folded, her gaze calm but thoughtful.
“I’ve seen your uncle. Something about him feels… familiar.”

“Yeah, I’ve been thinking the same,” Randy says. “This world and mine… they’ve got too many weird similarities. Even the language—it’s just all jumbled around.”

Seraphina, lounging nearby, casually flips her hair.

“Well, wherever you go… I go. I’ve sensed it. You’re heading toward something big.”

Kline adjusts his glasses, holding his still-bruised head. “I’m in too. I need to keep researching—plus travelling with might be interesting.”

Elowen nods. “Then it’s settled. An adventure it is. And maybe… a way to send you home.”

Luna steps forward again, quieter this time. Her eyes meet Randy’s.

“…Your world… it sounds peaceful. Strange. Like it has no war.”

A silence lingers between them—until Elysia suddenly grins and elbows her.

“Hey! Don’t go all emotional on us. You looked cute in the school outfit, remember? So did Seraphina!”

Seraphina smirks. “Oh? Do I?”

Randy laughs softly, the tension breaking. “Yeah… but still. We’ve got to figure out the truth behind all this.”

The six of them gather.

A pact forms.

The party:

Before setting out, Elowen steps into her forge room and returns with custom-forged gear.

“Made these myself,” she says, setting down enchanted equipment and armor for the whole party.

She then looks at Seraphina, tail curled up beside her. “You’re not exactly… subtle in public.”

Luna raises her hand. “I’ve got a solution.”

She whispers an incantation and gently touches Seraphina’s tail. A flash of light—

Poof!

Seraphina blinks—she now has legs. Perfectly human. Sleek. Smooth.
And no pants.

Randy freezes.

Nosebleed.

Kline goes full geyser and collapses backward with a dramatic fountain spray of blood.

CRACK!!

Elowen clotheslines him before he hits the floor. “HEY!!! LUNA!!! GET A CLUE!!”

“SERAPHINA!! PUT ON SOME PANTS!!!”

Seraphina shrugs. “It feels breezy~”

Randy’s already turned away, eyes covered, mumbling to himself.
“Dead. I’m already dead. This is heaven. Or hell.”

And just like that—

The journey begins.

The sun filters through the trees as the party gathers at the edge of the forest trail—gear packed, weapons ready, tension thick with that "first adventure" buzz.

Randy looks around at everyone, then locks eyes with Luna.

They nod in sync.

“Alright,” Randy says, smirking. “We’ve made our decision.”

Luna crosses her arms. “Elowen… you’re going to be our leader.”

Elowen freezes.

“…Huh? Why the hell is that?!”

Randy shrugs. “Because you're the only one who can actually control this mess. You tamed a bathhouse war between three magical girls. I’m pretty sure you can lead a team.”

“I’m not a leader type,” he adds, rubbing the back of his neck. “I just wing it and pray I don’t get stabbed.”

Kline, adjusting his satchel, avoids eye contact.

“Yeah… I’m not really the ‘strategic foresight’ guy either,” he mutters. “I mean, I already forgot why we left the forge.”

Randy points at the rest of them. “Luna and Elysia are always vanishing—one’s got palace duty, the other’s always reporting to the guild. And Seraphina… yeah, she’ll probably just charge headfirst into a dragon’s mouth for fun.”

Seraphina winks. “No regrets~”

Randy nods firmly. “So, by process of elimination, we nominate our smartest, toughest, no-nonsense, legally-licensed blacksmith with attitude…”

All of them point at Elowen.

“You.”

Elowen’s eye twitches.

“Bloody… kids…”

She crosses her arms, sighs so hard her soul probably leaves her body, and finally says—

“Fine. But if you lot end up as charcoal because you ignored my orders, I will turn your ashes into sword polish.”

“Yay~!” Seraphina cheers.

“I agree with Randy,” Luna adds, her tone dead serious. “Elowen is the only one among us with a movement permit that lets her pass through toll checkpoints without paying.”

🥳

“…What the hell does that have to do with leadership!?” Elowen barks, her voice echoing through the forest.

Everyone else:
😈

“Cheapskate…” Elowen mutters under her breath as she crosses her arms, glaring at Kline who’s pretending not to hoard snacks into his bag again.

Everyone laughs—except Elowen.

But the mood shifts when Luna clears her throat.

Her expression turns composed, her voice smooth yet cautious.

“Listen, Randy. All of you, really. Stay in this region for now. I’m planning to ‘move out’ soon—strategically.”

Randy tilts his head. “Strategically?”

“Yeah,” Luna nods. “If I disappear from palace duties suddenly, it’ll cause suspicion. But if I claim it’s part of a mission or diplomatic task…” she trails off, smirking slightly, “...it becomes a political excuse.”

Seraphina crosses her arms, tail twitching. “Ugh. Politics. Why so detailed? Just vanish and say ‘I quit.’ Easy.”

Luna sighs. “I wish it were that simple. But it’s because of my sister.”

She pauses.

“...Well, half-sister.”

Her expression hardens, like a mask falling away.

“She’s hungry for power. Everything I do, she mirrors. If I help the kingdom, she’ll try to help harder. Not out of loyalty—just to outshine me. So I have to move without letting her know why.”

Elysia whistles. “Sibling drama with political warfare. Gotta love royalty.”

Randy pulls something from his bag and unfolds it with a grin.

“Right. While you’re busy baiting your sister into political checkmate, this is how we move forward.”

Everyone leans in.

An airship blueprint.
Detailed. Hand-sketched. With mechanical symbols, propulsion arrays, and arcane integration.

“Woah…” Elowen’s eyes widen. “Did you… design this?”

“It’s based on Earth tech,” Randy says. “With a few magical adaptations.”

Seraphina taps the drawing. “Looks solid… but can it actually fly?”

Randy grins. “It will—once I finish the core and the stabilizers.”

Luna’s smile vanishes. “Randy. This cannot go public.”

Her tone is sharp now. Protective.

“You saw what happened with your gun. If anyone sees this and connects it to Earth tech… the panic, the accusations—it could cause war.”

Kline nods grimly. “It’s true. That weapon shouldn’t exist here…”

“And neither should this,” Luna adds, pointing at the blueprint.

“It’s demon technology to them,” she continues. “If they think you’re building weapons like this… they’ll label you a threat.”

Randy clenches his fists. “I know. That’s why I’m modifying my crossbow—to turn it into a repeating model. More subtle. Less explosive.”

“But I’ll need the parts… “

Elowen nods. “My hometown maybe got something like that but its three days east. Toward the border.”

“then….its our first task…” Randy confirms.

Luna exhales. “Then that’s our next move. I’ll start creating my political excuse.”

She turns to Elysia.

“Until then, take care. We’ll meet again soon.”

She offers a hand.

But Elysia blinks once—then leaps forward and hugs Luna tightly.

“In my world, this is how we make friends!” she declares.

Luna freezes, stiff as stone. “W-Wait, wha—?!”

Before she can recover, Seraphina swoops in, wrapping both of them with her toned arms.

“Group hug~!”

Elowen tries to escape, but Seraphina grabs her waist and pulls her in.

“NOPE! You're part of this too, smithy!”

“HEY! Let go! I’m all sweat and soot! I don’t do hugs!!”

The trio becomes a pile of tangled arms, squished faces, and awkward giggles.

Then—

Kline leaps in.

“WE’RE ALL FRIENDS, RIGHT!?” 🤤🤩

The world freezes.

Bad move.

CRACK!
Luna roundhouse-kicks him across the face. “PERVERT!!”

WHAM!
Elysia dropkicks him in the ribs. “GIRLS ONLY, ASSHOLE!!!”

BOOM!
Seraphina uppercuts his soul straight out of his body. “NO CAN DO!!”

THUD!
Elowen slams her warhammer down like a divine hammer of justice. “DIE, PERVERT!!!”

Kline lands in a bush upside-down, legs twitching in the air.

Kline is still twitching in a bush, face-up, a crooked leaf hanging off his lip.

“…Is he dead?” Elysia asks, half-concerned, half-bored.

Randy glances over, unfazed. “If not, we can make sure.”

Luna straightens her cloak, tone cool as ever. “Anyway… team’s locked in. Plan’s clear. Destiny’s calling.”

Seraphina throws a fist in the air.
“YEAH!! ADVENTURE!!!”

The group begins to split, each preparing for the road ahead.

But—

Luna catches Randy by the wrist.

Her touch is light… but her expression is not.

She pulls him just slightly away from the others, leans close, and whispers so only he can hear.

“Please… stay safe.”

He blinks.

“I need you to head for the border city. Albius. The Fortress Kingdom.”

She hesitates—eyes flickering with something between caution and trust.

“There, find King Fu Xi. He was my teacher... and he might be the only one who can tell you the truth behind all this.”

Randy nods quietly. He doesn’t fully understand—but he hears the urgency in her voice.

Then—

Elysia suddenly hugs him, wrapping him up before he can react.

“I’m just glad you’re still with us,” she says, eyes welling up. “Don’t die, okay?”

He awkwardly pats her back, unsure of what to say.

Before he can even speak, Luna offers him something small in her hand.

A silver pendant.
Simple, glowing faintly with soft, magical light.

“This’ll keep us connected. You and me. And her,” she nods toward Elysia.
“Use it if anything happens.”

Randy takes it. He’s not the sentimental type—but something about the way Luna says “if anything happens” lodges itself deep in his chest.

His fingers close over the pendant—

And suddenly—

FLASH.

Flashback – Earth, Two Years Ago

Location: Remote Training Camp, Conflict Zone – Somewhere in Africa

The skies are gray. Dust in the wind. The sound of far-off shouting. Not gunfire—but drills. Military drills.

Randy, only 13, smaller, leaner, with a crossbow strapped to his back, wipes sweat off his forehead. His uniform’s oversized, sleeves rolled up.

He kneels beside a rugged man in camo, face shadowed by a cap.

His uncle.

Eyes sharp. Voice always calm, never soft.

“Randy.”

The boy straightens a little.

“One thing you have to understand about people—especially those in charge…”

His uncle’s voice lowers.

“…They’ll always want something.”

Randy frowns. “Even if they act nice?”

His uncle glances sideways.

“Especially when they act nice.”

He stands and slings his rifle over his back. His voice turns firm—but never cold.

“Trust isn't something you hand out. You build it—slow. Carefully. Like you're building a bridge over a pit full of knives.”

“And when someone breaks that trust…”

He pauses. Looks at Randy directly.

“…They don’t get the same version of you ever again.”

Randy nods slowly, those words sticking to him like armor.

“So. Be strong. Be smart. Be kind—but never blind.”

Back to the Present

Randy blinks.

Elysia has let go. Luna’s already walking away, her cloak fluttering like a flag in the wind.

He looks down at the pendant in his hand.

It glows softly.

“Trust, huh?”

He tightens his grip.

No more aimless drifting.

This is real now.

Albius awaits.

So does the truth.

But somehow always felt coming.

Somewhere deep within the palace of King Lozla…

A soft blue glow swirls in the air as Luna reappears in her chamber, her teleportation spell wrapping around her like a breeze of starlight. The moment her boots touch the marble floor, the magic fades—and the familiar quiet of her personal room embraces her once more.

She lets out a tired but gentle breath, unfastening her cloak and laying it over the chair.

“Back again… like always.”

Her eyes lift—drawn to the tall portrait hanging on the wall.

A woman.
Elegant. Human. Regal.
Pink hair that flows like silk. Blue eyes like a calm ocean.
Dressed in a pristine Victorian gown, her smile is soft… and distant.

Luna approaches the painting slowly. Her fingertips graze the ornate golden frame.

“Mother… I still don’t know who you really were.”

Her voice trembles slightly—just enough to reveal the crack beneath her calm.

“But this time… I’ll find the truth. No matter what it is.”

She sits at the edge of her bed, staring at the portrait a moment longer. Her eyes slowly close, her hand clutching the pendant Randy gave her.

“A better day… it has to come.”

Elsewhere in the palace…

In the heart of a luxuriously decorated chamber—Princess Verica’s quarters—the air is thick with candlelight and shadows.

Raul and Verica lie tangled together beneath silk sheets. His breath is shallow, lips brushing her neck as her arms tighten around him.

“Verica…” he whispers, intoxicated by her scent, by her touch, by everything she is.

But something… changes.

Her soft moans turn to low growls. Her body shivers—then sharpens.
Flesh shifts. Nails elongate.

Her once sky-blue eyes gleam yellow. Her teeth glint—fangs. Horns now curl from beneath her golden hair.

“Mmm… you’re delicious,” she murmurs, licking her lips with a wicked grin. Her hand trails down her own chest as she sits atop him, eyes gleaming with hunger—not for love, but for power.

Raul, enchanted, completely lost, doesn't even notice the transformation.
He’s already under her spell.

Outside the chamber…

Hidden within the shadows of the hallway, Kuzman watches through a faint ripple of light—a scrying spell carefully threaded through the air.

His face is grave.

“No… She’s fallen.”

His fist clenches.

“That magic… it’s demonic. Corrupting. That’s not Verica anymore. Or… was it ever?”

His eyes narrow, the implication hitting him like a curse.

“Don’t tell me… The current Queen—she’s the root. This kingdom… it's already infected.”

Without hesitation, he cancels the spell and turns, his cloak whipping behind him.

“I have to reach Princess Luna. Before it’s too late.”

Meanwhile, inside the King’s private chambers…

The aged figure of King Lozla lies across plush bedding, his face sunken with age yet glazed in bliss.

Beside him, nestled against his side, is the Queen.

Beautiful. Ageless.

Her hand gently strokes his chest… claws hidden beneath her silk gloves.

Her smile?

Monstrous.

Her horns curl beneath her jeweled veil, eyes glowing faintly beneath the moonlight pouring in.

“Everything is proceeding as planned,” she whispers.

“The kingdom is mine to control.”

The King, enchanted and drained, simply chuckles weakly.

He no longer rules.
He no longer sees.

And no one realizes yet—

The throne has already fallen.

Somewhere on Earth…

A quiet suburban home rests beneath a cloudy sky, its windows dim, its walls lined with forgotten echoes of the past.

Inside, the hallway is still.

Dust motes drift lazily through the filtered light as a man stands at the doorway of a small bedroom—Randy’s room.

It hasn’t changed. Not since that day.

Randy’s uncle stands silently at the threshold, arms crossed, eyes narrowed with the weight of memory.

He scans the familiar mess—books stacked, spare training gear still leaning in the corner. But it’s the photo on the deskthat holds him in place.

A framed picture. A baby Randy, beaming awkwardly between two figures:

A tall, rugged man with a grin like he’s seen every ocean in the world.

And beside him, a woman—graceful, mysterious, her features almost too perfect.
Her eyes shine with a faint, unnatural light.

Drake Stroud – the rogue who once sailed with pirates.
Lilith Cross – the otherworldly beauty once whispered of in legends.

“Drake…” the uncle mutters under his breath. “The pirate who vanished in the storm…”

He tightens his jaw.

“…And Lilith… the so-called hero of another world… and not even human.”

A long pause fills the room, thick with memory and unspoken fear.

His hand rests against the doorframe, fingers curling slightly.

“Randy…”

He doesn’t say more. He doesn’t need to.

Because the past is stirring.

And the blood running through that boy’s veins…

…might decide the fate of both worlds.

To be continued.