Chapter 43 – One after another….

The deck of the Scourge creaks beneath weary boots. Smoke from burning ships still hangs on the sea breeze, curling into the scarlet dusk. We sit around the captain’s table, bruised, bloodied, but alive.

Nu Wa swirls her grog, the firelight catching in her emerald eyes. Her voice cuts through the heavy silence.

“Aye, Valkor the Aviari be the master o’ the skies, matey. Circle he does, like a gull smellin’ blood, waitin’ to swoop in and claim his prize. Years he’s been plotin’, like a sea monster lurkin’ in the deep. Crossin’ him be like stickin’ yer hand in a shark’s maw.”

The name hangs in the air like a curse.

Luna folds her arms, her brows knit. “…I see. If that’s true…” Her gaze flicks to me, almost pleading. “Randy, we can’t ignore this. People will die.”

I lean back, “…Yeah, but this isn’t our fight. And I’m not Drake or Lilith. We’ll get swallowed whole if we keep meddling.”

Elowen slams her mug down. “For once, I agree with him. Politics, pirate clans, demon kingdoms—this is way over our pay grade.”

“But—!” Harmonia’s voice cracks with raw emotion. Her eyes shimmer with that dangerous kind of hope. “Can’t you see it? They need us! If we turn away now, what are we even fighting for?”

Seraphina brushes her hair back with a sigh, elegance even in exhaustion. “Foolish girl. Charging into another storm won’t make us heroes. It’ll make us corpses. I’m with Randy.”

“Lady Nu Wa…” Luna turns, stubborn fire in her tone.

Before Nu Wa can speak, boots echo on the deck. Riven and Ravenna stride forward, their twin presences sharp as their blades.

“Arrgh, that winged devil,” Riven spits, his voice a growl. “Always whisperin’ in the elders’ ears like a barnacle on a hull. Advisor, confidant, spy—pullin’ strings and makin’ us dance like puppets.”

Ravenna slams her fist into the table. “Aye! The Eight Elders bend knee to his schemes! He’s got us all by the throat, and we didn’t even see the noose tighten!”

Korvus bows stiffly, his voice low. “Me Lady, the time be now. Summon the Breatherin’ Court. Hoist the colors, call the clans. We need a council o’ war.”

Nu Wa’s smile fades. “…Korvus, ye know better. The Breatherin’ Court care more for profit than honor. Gold be their god. Even the Pirate King’s call don’t always sway their rotten hearts.”

Arin, sprawled drunk over a barrel, waves his bottle. “Aye, granny’s right. Those dogs be stubborn as barnacles. They’ll watch the sea burn ‘fore they lift a finger. Savvy?”

Eira slams her palm down, rattling the mugs. “Then we don’t beg. We rally! There be more clans than Silver Fang alone. Blackwood be ours. But the south? The Sea Wolves. The east? The Sea Serpent Clan. The deep? The Drowned Maidens. The thieves, the rogues, the Vorpal Beards…” Her grin sharpens. “We call ‘em all. And if they don’t answer—blast their hulls ‘til they do!”

Elowen whistles. “That’s a long bloody list.”

Arin chuckles. “Half-pirate ye may be, lass, but ye got the fire.”

I rub my temples, groaning. “Clans, politics, councils… ugh. This is why I hate leadership.”

But Luna turns to me again, her eyes unwavering. “…Randy. Don’t you see? This isn’t just politics. It’s destiny. If we ignore this storm, it’ll swallow everything.”

Her words strike something deep, but it isn’t her voice I hear—it’s Drake’s.

“Yer wind be better spent sailin’, lad. Don’t waste it here…”

Those words echo, cryptic and heavy. What did he mean?

I finally speak. “…Nu Wa. Tell me straight. How did Drake Stroud even build pirates into this mess?”

Nu Wa’s gaze sharpens. For once, her drunken swagger falls away, replaced by the weight of history.

“Ye be a fisherman’s boy, eh? Then ye know the truth. Before we were pirates, we were nomads. Sea gypsies. The Bajau Laut. We lived by the tides, and our law was the sea. Drake… he gave us unity. And power. But the roots, lad… they go deeper. Older than gold or glory.”

I sit forward, heart pounding. “So there are still… original people here? Not pirates?”

“Sea nomads,” Nu Wa confirms softly. “Keepers of stories older than sails. And one among ‘em knows more than most… Old man Motu.”

Korvus nods. “Aye, Lady. He still sells fish at the port. Old bones, older tales.”

Arin lets out a long whistle. “So that’s yer game, boy. Chasin’ ghosts.”

We go.

At the docks, among the bustle of merchants and the stench of fish, an old man squats, mending nets. Tribal tattoos crawl across his weathered skin. He looks up, eyes cloudy, but when he sees me—he speaks words that freeze me.

“Ombak mana moal, Nu Wa?”

The language. Bajau. My people.

Nu Wa frowns. “Ye know the old tongue, boy?”

I step forward. My chest tightens. “Motu… aku Randy. O cei kemu bera?”

His eyes widen. He studies me, then mutters in a voice like rolling waves. “Mata moal… iko sega ni bau vanua.”

I push further. “Cava na sala…?”

His hand trembles as he traces a map in the sand. An island’s edge. A cave. A serpent.

“Tikka, the sea serpent. Keeper of the deep. Forgotten by men, remembered by waves.”

Nu Wa scoffs, masking unease. “Bah! Myths and grog dreams.”

But Motu’s words carry weight.
“Dari sega li Tikka… lepas na lomalagi tani lako mai.”

The sea is restless, as if it knows the weight of the choice before us.
Nu Wa leans over the chart table, dagger carving a line across the map. Her expression darkens.

“…If this be true, then our course sails straight into the maw o’ the Vorpal Beard Pirates. Gods help us all.”

Silence falls over the Scourge’s cabin. Even the lanterns flicker low, as though the ship itself shudders.

I grip the railing tight. Drake’s words echo in my head.
“Yer wind be better spent sailin’, lad. Don’t waste it here…”

Now I see it. This voyage won’t just shift the seas. It’ll shift everything.

Nu Wa straightens, cloak whipping in the salty breeze. “Then it’s settled. I’ll sail with ye. The Scourge shall take point. The Stroud, Eira’s proud vessel, shall hold her flank. And together, we’ll cut through this storm.”

But before her words settle, a pair of familiar voices intrude.

“Arrgh! Count us in!” Riven leaps onto the table with his boots.
“Aye! By hook or by blade, the Strider will sail with ye, or we’ll sink tryin’!” Ravenna slams her cutlass down for emphasis.

Elowen massages her temples. “…Do you twins ever listen to reason?”

Ravenna grins like a shark. “We get the shivers just thinkin’ about it!”

Nu Wa narrows her eyes, then finally smirks. “Fine. Bring yer Strider. But hear me well—ye guard this island in our absence. Fail me, and ye’ll be fish food.”

The twins bark orders to their men, grinning ear to ear.

Soon, three ships are readied:

On deck, Eira nudges me with her elbow. “You don’t get it—this is history. Granny never leaves her mansion. When she sets sail, even the sea listens.”

“…That big, huh?” I mutter.

“Aye! It’s like watchin’ a storm rise.”

Arin, already half-drunk, slams down his mug, grabs a mast rope and pulls with surprising strength. “Oi! What’re we waitin’ for? Raise the sails, ye barnacle-brained sea dogs!”

The fleet answers the call. Sails unfurl. Cannons are rolled into place. The night wind roars, carrying the three-ship formation into the dark horizon.

Meanwhile, in the Kingdom of Mana

The capital gleams beneath a dome of shimmering light.

Kline leans lazily against the railing, smirking. “Looks like defenses are in place.”

Oswald crosses his arms. “…Feels like Randy’s fingerprints all over it.”

Kline chuckles. “Guess the boy’s paranoia rubbed off.”

Elysia studies the barrier. “But how long will it hold?”

“For now? Long enough.”

A crystal communicator hums. Nyx’s voice spills out, sharp and direct.

Kline explains Aethone’s schemes, Alfian’s betrayal.

Nyx clicks her tongue. “Tch. Figures. But there’s worse. Elysium’s awakened their gift from Archantus—the Colossus. A fortress. Not magic, not beast, but machine. Unbreakable… unless its master falters.”

Kline whistles low. “…So the ultimate shield, built on borrowed bones.”

“Exactly. And Randy? Far out at sea. Eligos. Out of my reach.”

Kline groans. “And I’m supposed to hold the kingdom together? I’m an alchemist, not a general.”

“That’s why you’re there. Adapt.” click

“Oi! Damn hag—!” Kline slams the communicator shut, teeth grinding.

Elysia exhales through her nose, arms crossed. “…So?”

Oswald stretches, lips curling into a feral grin. “Simple. We prepare.”

Marian opens her mouth to speak, but—

Whoosh!

Kline appears right in front of her, roses seemingly conjured out of thin air. His eyes glimmer with mock-princely confidence as he bows, bouquet extended.

“My, my… what beauty stands before me. Care for a drink at the tavern, m’lady?”

“E-Eh?!” Marian jerks back, her assassin’s cool composure breaking instantly. Her cheeks blaze crimson.

Elysia buries her face in her palm. “…He’s back to being useless.”

“PFFFFT—!” Oswald explodes into laughter, doubling over and slapping his knee. His laughter echoes through the hall like cannon fire.

Marlisa tugs at Marian’s arm with a long-suffering sigh. “Just leave him. That dumbass thrives on rejection.” She sticks out her tongue at Kline for emphasis.

Unfazed, Kline flourishes his coat like a magician and produces another bouquet, this time aimed at both Marian and Marlisa. His grin widens. “Two blossoms, one garden… My luck with lovely girls truly knows no bounds tonight!”

“…He just has no shame, does he?” Elysia mutters, shaking her head.

“I kinda wish I had that kind of charisma…” Oswald says between chuckles. “At least then I could talk to girls without choking.”

Before Marian can throttle Kline, footsteps echo. Mina enters, cloak billowing, her sharp eyes scanning the room.

“What’s the situation?” she demands.

Kline snaps upright, instantly switching from clown to scholar. He taps the magical diagrams etched on the barrier map, smirk curling his lips. “For now? They’re not going anywhere.”

Mina narrows her eyes. “And how exactly is that possible?”

Kline spins his staff like a showman, eyes gleaming. “A series of mirrored arrays, carefully layered. Once they pass through the barrier—” He snaps his fingers, grinning. “—they pop right back where they started.”

Mina blinks, brows furrowing. “…So it just loops them back in a circle?”

“Right on!” Kline winks, finger-gun and all. “An endless merry-go-round of doom. Brilliant, no?”

Marian groans. Marlisa facepalms. Elysia mutters something about strangling him.

Oswald? He just laughs harder.

The outskirts of the capital were eerily quiet. The barrier shimmered faintly above the horizon, its mirage-like glow bending the light.

Kline leaned on his staff with a lazy grin, flowers still tucked into his pocket from his earlier antics. The others were gathered—Oswald sharpening his blade, Marian still pink from embarrassment, Marlisa tapping her foot impatiently.

The air suddenly thickened.

A ripple spread across the ground, like invisible waves breaking against the barrier. Birds scattered. Horses panicked in their stables.

Kline’s expression hardened. “…That mana.”

Fu Xi appeared at his side, his face grim. “Kline… I came to ask for your help. You must head to Albius. Anduril has urgent words for you.”

Kline tilted his head, staff resting on his shoulder. “The mighty king of Mana begging me? My, my… what’s the world come to?”

But then his eyes narrowed. A chill swept across the fields.

A voice purred from the shadows between the trees.
“Fufufu… so this is the handiwork of the alchemist who spun that barrier.”

A woman stepped forward, her scythe dragging against the stones. Her beauty was uncanny, but her crimson eyes glowed with malice. Purple miasma seeped from her every movement.

“Morwenna,” Fu Xi muttered.

“Not her true body,” Kline corrected, smirking. “But one of her little dolls. Still, what a pain.”

Morwenna’s laugh echoed. “Doll or not, kill you and the barrier shatters. The Kingdom falls. Simple, no?”

Kline snapped his fingers. Alchemical circles bloomed around him, etched in glowing runes that orbited like planets. The grass swayed under the pressure, dust scattering.

“Oh, please. If you thought Nyx was dangerous, you forgot about me. I’m not Randy with his fists, or Oswald with his swing… but in a magic duel—” His grin widened. “I’m untouchable.”

Light gathered, surrounding him like a second skin.

“Ardrochia Luaimi Scáth Sif Gnomfa Undiol… Tegamarn cacare moi…!”

The ground cracked under the surge of energy.

Morwenna’s eyes sharpened. “What is this…?”

Kline pointed his staff skyward. “Lesson one: a barrier mage doesn’t fight fair.”

“Áruíríoch Úr!!!”

Beams of white light shot into the sky before spiraling back down, homing in on Morwenna like hunting hawks.

She spun her scythe, deflecting two—
—but the third slammed into the ground near her feet, detonating in a blinding explosion.

“Gh—!! What is this magic?! It burns like poison!”

Kline’s grin widened. “Already whining? Don’t tell me you’re giving up.”

Morwenna hissed. “You’re nothing but a cheap alchemist trickster—”

Chains of light erupted from the circle at Kline’s feet, lashing around her legs mid-sentence.

Her eyes widened. “What—?!”

Kline raised his staff, runes spinning wildly.
“Áruíríoch Úr!!!”

The chains tightened, glowing brighter, until her body was engulfed in light. She shrieked before her form dissolved into smoke, scattering on the wind.

Silence.

Oswald exhaled slowly, lowering his blade. “…That was terrifyingly quick.”

Marlisa crossed her arms. “So that’s the dumbass in ‘serious mode.’”

Marian still trembled. “Th-that power… is he really just an alchemist?”

Elysia sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose.
“…And tomorrow he’ll be back to hitting on girls.”

Kline flicked his coat dramatically, smirk flashing. “Not even her real self. Just a pawn.” He hopped onto his alchemical airbike, the crystals along its frame flaring to life with a soft hum.

“Try not to break the city while I’m gone.” He winked—then with a roar of mana and gears, the bike blasted off into the skies, leaving only a streak of golden light across the horizon.

The barrier pulsed faintly behind them, like a heartbeat. For now… it held.

Oswald scratched his head and turned to Mina. “So… now what?”

Mina crossed her arms. “We get the defenses back in order. One pawn destroyed doesn’t mean the game’s won.”

The Palace of Elysium – Council Chamber

Fu Xi stood tall in the marble hall, the light of the barrier reflecting through the crystalline windows. Before him, the Elders of the Kingdom assembled, their presence as heavy as the silence between them.

The air was thick, every elder carrying the weight of their city—and their doubts.

Lord Gindol broke first, voice booming. “With this attack again… I doubt we can hold! It’s a miracle we lasted this long. And only because of Randy’s intervention.”

Madame Luca’s fan snapped shut. “And where is Luna? Surely she must be part of this defense.”

Fu Xi’s gaze sharpened. “As of now… Luna is in Eligos.”

The chamber erupted in shocked voices.

“What?!” General Opal slammed his gauntleted fist on the table. “Eligos is lawless! Pirates bow to no flag!”

“That is not just reckless—it’s a death sentence!” Lord Edric’s voice was sharp. “You let her sail into the wolf’s den while the northern armies circle like vultures?”

Lysander Renn raised a jeweled hand. “And all the while, my merchants bleed coin. Armies mass at our borders, ports choke under blockades… Do you understand the economic ruin we’re inviting?”

“Enough.” Fu Xi’s voice cut through the clamor like steel. “We are not here to panic. We are here to decide how to hold the line.”

The doors opened.

Mina entered, flanked by Elysia and Oswald, still bearing the dust of the battlefield.

Mina’s voice was calm but resolute. “Our ally has already prepared the first line of defense. Cannons have been positioned, and the barrier is holding.”

The room fell still.

Archon Zaren leaned forward, crystalline eyes glowing. “…That barrier. It is not mortal craft. I could not summon such a thing, even with the Temple’s full circle. What kind of boy conjured this?”

Fu Xi crossed his arms. “The kind that buys us time. And time is the only currency we cannot waste.”

Lord Devonshire grinned beneath his beard, voice booming. “My adventurers in Carnac are ready! The guild’s itching for a fight. Just give the word, and we’ll spill demon blood till the fields are rivers!”

General Opal grunted, his armored arms crossed like a wall of steel.
“Hmph. Let’s hope your adventurers don’t drown in it first.”

The chamber grew heavy. All eyes turned toward Fu Xi, the weight of the kingdom pressing down on his shoulders like a mountain.

Fu Xi finally spoke, his voice steady. “For now… if we can endure through this storm, there may still be hope.”

The silence cracked as Anduril leaned forward, scarred hands gripping the table.
“Hope, eh? I’ve always been wary of that so-called Saint of Elysium. Aethone. Her words don’t match her smile.”

Madame Luca snapped her fan open, hiding half her face as her eyes narrowed.
“Anduril isn’t wrong. What do you think, Archon Zaren? You priests praise her as if she were divine.”

Zaren’s crystal staff pulsed faintly, his tone calm but firm. “The Church believes in Aethone. She is… untouchable. Her words are her own, and we cannot intervene. To deny her would be to deny the very light the people cling to.”

Zephyrine’s sharp voice cut through like a blade. “Then what of the Grand Pope, Thalorien? Surely he has noticed her straying? Or will you tell me even his eyes are blind?”

Zaren’s brows furrowed, though he didn’t flinch. “…The Grand Pope’s concern is stability. The Caelestis Empire shares its border with the Western Demon Kingdom. His focus must remain there. If that border breaks, none of our barriers will matter.”

General Opal slammed his gauntlet on the table again. “Then perhaps he could at least offer us counsel while Lady Luna is in Eligos. The girl may return with pirate allies, but without broader support—”

“No.” Zaren’s voice deepened, echoing in the chamber. “We must not drag our own turmoil into his burden. He holds the west together with his very hands. If he falters, we all fall.”

Fu Xi raised a hand, silencing the rising storm. “Enough. We must not lean on outsiders—not even the otherworlders. They have already bled enough for us.”

Gindol growled in agreement, beard bristling. “Aye. This mess is ours to clean. If we can’t hold our ground, we don’t deserve to stand at all.”

Fu Xi’s gaze swept the council. “Then let us weigh our strength. Lord Opal?”

Opal stood like a fortress. “Five thousand men are mustered. Trained, armed, and ready.”

Madame Luca’s voice followed, smooth but edged. “Lavina will commit five hundred mages. Their spells are at your command.”

Archon Zaren placed his hand over his chest. “One thousand healers shall march to the front. They will not falter.”

Anduril’s fist hit the table with a clang. “My forges burn day and night. Weapons and armor—we’ll have enough for all. Just give me the time.”

Lord Gindol adjusted his mantle, voice carrying grim weight. “Ut Lo has confirmed their defense lines. But there is troubling news. The Mercenaries of Kilos… have allied with the Northern Kingdom.”

The chamber went still.

Zephyrine’s hawk-like eyes narrowed. “…So even sellswords have chosen their side.”

Fu Xi’s voice dropped low, dangerous. “Then so be it. We prepare. If the world sharpens its blades against us… we sharpen ours sharper still.”

The council nodded, some with grim resolve, others with fire in their eyes. For a moment, the flickering light of the chamber made their shadows loom taller, as if the room itself held its breath for the battles yet to come.

Vista Valley – The Dragon Lord’s Chamber

The stone chamber of Vista Valley was quiet, save for the low rumble of the mountain winds. The Dragon Lord Althaeon sat with his two councilmen: Ilmar, sharp-eyed and composed, and Mickey, whose sharp tongue never rested.

Mickey slammed a fist on the table, voice carrying his usual streetwise drawl.
“Listen here, boss—we’re in a bind. These two-bit mercs and their demon pals are makin’ noise all over the valley. How’re we supposed to keep things under wraps with these gorillas runnin’ wild? What’s the play, boss?”

Ilmar folded his arms. “At most, we’ve only got a few volunteers and some soldiers from Gildarts. Not nearly enough to resist if they break through. The odds aren’t kind to us.”

Althaeon leaned back, scales glimmering faintly in the torchlight. His golden eyes narrowed. “And yet… did you see the barrier conjured at the Kingdom of Mana?”

Mickey whistled low. “Well, ain’t that just the cat’s pajamas? Those high-hats are sittin’ pretty while we’re swimmin’ in the soup, catchin’ the rough end of this racket.”

“Do you have a suggestion, Lord Mickey?” Ilmar asked dryly.

Mickey scratched his chin, then turned to the map spread across the table. His gaze sharpened like a predator catching scent. Slowly, a grin spread across his face.
“Yeah… yeah, I got somethin’. This valley—it’s narrow, steep, and ugly as sin. Even if an army and airships came knockin’, they’d be choked here. They can’t pass through without payin’ blood.”

He snapped his fingers. “Call your pal, Prince William. I think I got us a score worth makin’.”

Althaeon’s eyes glowed faintly as he rumbled, “Then I’ll rouse the dragons. Vista Valley will not fall so easily.”

Ilmar stood, already preparing letters. “I’ll send word to William. If he sees what we see, he’ll move. He has to.”

Mickey clapped his hands, already racing for the door. “Good! I’ll rustle up some new muscle, some sharp shots, maybe a doc or two. We’re buildin’ a fortress here, pals—Vista Valley’s gonna be the wall they choke on!”

The dragon lord watched him bolt out, then murmured with quiet conviction:
“Let them come. The valley will burn before it bows.”

Kingdom of Ut Lo – The Fox-Folk Palace

The palace of Ut Lo gleamed beneath lantern light, filled with the scent of sakura incense. At its heart stood Vulpina, the young fox-folk lady, her red hair flowing like fire, eyes as blue as ocean glass.

“My lady… it seems the time has come,” murmured a cat-folk guard at her side.

Vulpina’s ears flicked nervously. “…Kline.”

As if on cue, a loud whoosh echoed across the courtyard.

“HEY EVERYONE!!”

Guards instantly drew their weapons, forming a wall around the princess.

“VULPINA!! Hey!!” Kline grinned like a madman, waving both arms as his alchemical airbike drifted to a halt.

“Kline!!” Vulpina’s face lit up, tail flicking in joy.

“Oi, alchemist! You can’t just barge into the royal palace!!” one guard snapped, spear raised.

“It’s fine,” Vulpina said, stepping forward. “Let me speak with him.”

The guards exchanged wary glances but lowered their weapons.

“So… what’s the matter?” she asked softly.

Before Kline could answer, another voice echoed down the hall. Smooth, calm, regal.

“The troublemaker returns.”

King Kyokuren emerged, silver hair shimmering, golden eyes carrying both wisdom and quiet power. His tail swayed behind him as he regarded Kline with faint amusement.
“So then, alchemist… what brings you here now?”

Kline saluted with exaggerated flair. “We need Ut Lo’s help, your majesty! The kingdoms are at war, and if Mana falls, you’re next!”

Kyokuren’s golden eyes narrowed. “Is that… a threat?”

Kline’s grin faltered for a moment. “…More like a prediction. But hey—at least you’d have allies if it comes to that.”

The king’s lips curved into the faintest of smirks. He leaned close, whispering something so soft only Kline caught a fragment.
“Why not marry my daughter, then…?”

“…Eh?!” Kline blinked. “What was that?!”

“Nothing.” Kyokuren straightened, tone returning to calm command. “Summon the council. And what of that contraption you rode in on? A flying machine?”

Kline puffed his chest proudly. “This? This is my baby! My girl! The one and only airbike! My best bud helped me build it—it’s beautiful, ain’t it?”

“Mm. I’ll withhold judgment,” Kyokuren said. “But are you staying here for the night?”

“Nope! Gotta bounce back—stuff to do, people to save, things to blow up!” Kline revved the airbike.

“Kline!!” Vulpina suddenly called out, cheeks pink.

He turned mid-flight. “What?”

“When… when you have time…” She twisted her tail nervously. “Come back. Have tea with me.”

For a moment, Kline’s usual bravado cracked. He scratched his cheek awkwardly. “…Uh. Sure. Yeah. Totally.”

“Oi, you really manage to conjure it.” Another voice cut in. A tall woman with emerald eyes appeared, her presence commanding yet warm.

“Huh?! Lady Arcana—teacher!!” Kline yelped. “Sorry! Busy!! Gotta go!!”

And with that, he blasted off into the sky, leaving the palace rattling from the gust.

Arcana folded her arms, a small smile tugging at her lips. “…Still a whirlwind, I see.”

Kyokuren’s tail flicked in amusement. “Indeed. Gather the council. Lord Fu Xi truly surrounds himself with… interesting people.”

Sky Island – The Great Archive

Deep within the towering shelves of the Great Archive, Nyx sat surrounded by glowing tomes and the soft hum of strange machinery. Her wrinkled hands traced old runes, but her sharp eyes were locked on the radar device Randy had built.

The light pulsed. The readings shifted. And her expression darkened.

“…The storm draws closer. And yet, that boy’s machine might just tell us where the next shadow falls.”

The archive fell silent again, save for the rhythmic tick…tick…tick of Randy’s contraption. Dust floated like stars in the lantern light, and Nyx’s old eyes narrowed at the mural towering above her.

Her lips trembled as the lines connected in her head.
“This pattern… the release of that defensive titan… Is that…?”

Her gaze locked on a carved figure in the mural, its features twisted in triumph. She slammed her cane against the floor.
“I see… so that’s why. Azrael, you stupid fool…” Her laugh echoed against the stone walls, sharp and cruel. “Haah! You think such a stunt will impress Lord Xorvath?! Hah… HAHAHAHAHA!”

The sound of boots skidding against the floor broke her laughter.
“Yo! Nyx! Got anything?”

Kline strolled in, his airbike helmet under his arm, grin plastered across his face.

Nyx didn’t even glance at him. “You jump around too much. You should stay in the kingdom instead of zipping about like a lunatic.”

Kline leaned lazily on his staff, shrugging. “Hey, I conjured the barrier, didn’t I? Frontline brawling’s not my style. Too messy. I’m better as the brain behind the madness.”

Nyx finally looked at him, eyes gleaming under the shadow of her hood. “Is that so… well…”

Her words died as the room shifted. A heavy stillness pressed down, as though the air itself held its breath.

Kline’s smirk faded. “…You feel it?”

“Yes.” Nyx’s voice was grave now. “From the north… and the west.”

A chill ran through them both. The ground itself seemed to hum.

“Feels so… powerful…” Kline muttered.

Outside, the night sky tore open with brilliance. Two distant explosions of light—one to the north, one to the west—streaked across the horizon like falling stars.

Eligos – Aboard the Stroud

The deck of the sailing ship rocked gently beneath Randy’s boots as he leaned on the rail. His eyes widened as the sky lit up with twin bursts of radiance.

“What the hell is that?” I mutter, unable to tear my eyes away.

Luna steps beside me, her expression tight. “…Something’s happening.”

The sea wind whips against us, but neither of us moves, both staring at the unnatural glow.

Western Demon Kingdom

On a blood-red altar, the ground split open. A man—half-demon, cloaked in shadows—extended his clawed hand over a summoning circle.

“Arise…”

The circle blazed. And from it, a warrior stepped forth—taller than any man, his frame bound in ornate armor that gleamed with echoes of another world. His helmet carried long feathered plumes, and at his side rested a spear taller than a man.

The stranger’s eyes narrowed as he scanned the alien landscape. His voice thundered in old Chinese.
“…What is this place?”

With a flick of his wrist, the demon man cast a spell, the air shimmering. The warrior blinked as the words shifted on his tongue.

“What sorcery is this…?”

The demon smirked. “What is your name, warrior?”

The man slammed the butt of his spear into the earth, pointing its blade directly at the demon’s throat.
“I am Lu Bu. Who are you—beast?”

The demon only chuckled. “Such vulgarity. But no matter. You seek battle? Glory?”

Lu Bu’s lips twisted into a grin. “Yes. Always.” His aura flared like wildfire. “And you?”

“My name… is Inul. King of this kingdom.” His eyes gleamed crimson. “All I want… is for you to unleash yourself. Let loose.”

“Strange king…” Lu Bu sneered. “But fine. I’ll carve my name into this world!”

He turned, gaze locking onto the distant ranks of Caelestis temple knights. With a wild laugh, he leapt high into the sky, crashing down among them.

The earth shook. Soldiers were hurled like ragdolls.

“No one shall best me!!! HAHAHAHAH!!” His roar split the battlefield.

Northern Kingdom

Far away, in the frozen halls of the north, King Azrael stood before another circle of light. His eyes burned with fanatic devotion.

“Arise…”

From the circle, another warrior stepped forward. His body sculpted like marble, clad in bronze armor of a forgotten age. His presence was both radiant and terrifying, and his hand gripped a spear with lethal grace.

The man’s eyes narrowed at Azrael, and without hesitation, he thrust his spear to the king’s throat.

“…Your name,” Azrael said calmly.

The man’s voice was harsh, ancient Greek rolling from his tongue. “…Achilles. And you?”

Azrael raised his hand, murmuring a spell. The language shifted, clarity replacing confusion.

“You stand in another world. A world ripe for conquest.” Azrael’s voice dripped with hunger. “Aid me, and I shall reward you… and return you to your home.”

Achilles’s eyes turned to the horizon, where strange armies gathered. His grip tightened on the spear.

“…Your soldiers look strange. But no matter.” His gaze burned with hunger for challenge. “If there are warriors worth my time here… I will find them.”

The world of Mana trembled. Two heroes of legend—summoned as weapons.
And in the shadows, forces that no kingdom could yet comprehend began to move.

To be continued