Chapter 27: The World Without Y

The cave stretched like a stone serpent devouring the light.

Its walls bled with dampness, and every footstep echoed like an ancient lament.

Raven advanced steadily at the front, his eyes tracing every crack and ridge, reading the traps as though they were lines from a familiar book.

Behind him, Ash, Anna, and Diona moved with measured grace—each keeping her distance and rhythm, as if dancing silently with danger.

The silence grew so heavy that even their breathing seemed too loud—until Raven’s voice broke through:

“Didn’t expect you all to be this quiet.”

Anna replied without looking back, her gaze fixed on the path ahead:

“Y would be disappointed if we lost our composure now.”

Ash smirked faintly, her eyes narrowing toward the darkness ahead.

“Dansleif said Y walked into the trap willingly… which means he has a plan.”

Raven let out a humorless chuckle.

“If it were any other team, they’d waste time asking about my motives.”

Ash answered with calm confidence:

“Everyone has their reasons. As long as you’re helping us, we’ll hold our questions—for now.”

Raven stopped briefly. His eyes gleamed in the dark as he murmured:

“It’s no secret… I’m looking for someone.

Someone connected to the cult.”

Before he could finish, the sound of slow footsteps echoed through the stony corridor.

A deep voice emerged from the shadows:

“We won’t let you go any farther.”

From the darkness, three familiar figures stepped forward—Stella, Zack, and Reinhardt.

Even the air seemed to shift, as though the cave itself sensed that another battle was about to begin.

Stella’s sharp voice cut through the tension:

“Where’s that vampire?”

Ash replied coolly, a hint of mockery in her tone:

“Relax. L isn’t here. You can breathe easy.”

She took a step forward, her voice firm and steady:

“What are you doing here?”

Raven turned his head slightly.

“You know them?”

Ash didn’t hesitate.

“We’ve crossed paths before.”

Diona added, her hand resting on her weapon:

“There were six… maybe seven of them, right?”

Raven gestured toward the glowing marks on their hands.

“A binding contract… am I right?”

Reinhardt answered with a grim certainty:

“Yes. To reach our goal, we made a pact with him.”

Raven’s lips curled into a cold, knowing smile.

“Then I pity you. That sorcerer’s worse than the Demon King himself.”

Ash’s tone lowered, her eyes scanning the dark tunnel behind them.

“This war is more tangled than it seems.”

Anna raised her hand, her voice sharp and commanding:

“We’ll handle them.

Ash, Diona—keep moving.”

Both responded at once, their voices in unison:

“Understood.”

And in that instant, the group split apart—

those who chose to fight, and those who pressed deeper into the heart of the shadows.

That day, the Sorcerers’ Academy burned from within.

Explosions shook its towers, and the sky above twisted with blue light tangled in thick, black smoke.

The battle had splintered into four fronts — the academy itself turned into a true war zone.

At the front lines, Dansleif stood against the leader of the cultists;

their spells of defense and offense clashed like falling stars.

At the rear, Leonard fought the traitor Adrian alongside a renegade mage.

On the right flank, Rose moved alone — commanding the battlefield with flawless precision.

On the left, Alexander and Sylvia held the line, preventing the defenses from collapsing.

And at the center, Auren stood surrounded by a glowing magical map, directing orders and maintaining rhythm amid the chaos.

His voice rose above the hiss of spells and the thunder of impacts:

“Team Three! Don’t leave the eastern corridor unguarded!

The western wing needs reinforcement—now!”

Even as he gave commands with a cool, measured tone, something inside him burned with unease.

He lowered his voice, whispering to himself:

“Strange… Everything’s under control so far,

yet I can’t shake the feeling that something’s wrong.”

He lifted his gaze to the sky, heavy with sorcery and smoke, and spoke slowly—thinking aloud:

“The attack is weaker than expected… why?

And why now, of all times?

A traitor inside, coordinated assaults across every wing…

It’s not just about killing Dansleif.”

His expression hardened. His eyes widened as realization struck.

“The real target… is the academy itself.”

Clenching his fist, he drew a glowing blue stone from his pocket—its core alive with flickering sparks of light.

He spoke quickly, his tone sharp with urgency:

“Dansleif, can you hear me?”

At the front lines of the Sorcerers’ Academy, Dansleif stood at the heart of a storm of light and smoke.

His spells intertwined in the air like a web of stars, deflecting the incoming waves of power unleashed by the cult leader.

The ground around them erupted in bursts of colliding magic, painting the battlefield in violent colors.

With every clash, sparks scattered like rain made of blue fire.

Amid the chaos and destruction, Dansleif remained composed—his eyes never leaving his opponent, his hands weaving sigils faster than any ordinary eye could follow.

Then, through the roar of the storm, a familiar whisper reached him from the glowing stone that hung against his chest—

Auren’s voice.

“Dansleif, can you hear me?”

Dansleif replied without turning, drawing a new defensive circle in the air.

“What is it, Auren?”

Auren’s voice came through the crystal, laced with the distant thunder of battle.

“Everything seems under control, but… I can’t shake this feeling.

Something’s moving in the shadows.”

Dansleif blocked a massive fireball with a surge of counter-magic, the explosion lighting his face in blue and gold.

“I feel it too.

They’re not trying to kill me—that much is clear now.”

There was a brief silence before Auren spoke again, sharper this time.

“So we’ve reached the same conclusion.

Did you notice anything unusual before the attack? Anything at all?”

Dansleif answered without hesitation, shards of stone flying past him.

“I’ve been cautious.

The only event of note recently was the arrival of the new applicants for the entrance exam.”

“And they were inspected, I assume?”

Auren’s tone grew probing.

“The one in charge of that was Adrian.”

The weight in Dansleif’s voice made the realization hit instantly.

Auren’s tone hardened, cold as a blade.

“Then it’s clear.

Someone among the examiners is working with the cult.”

For a fleeting moment, Dansleif’s magic faltered—

as if a forgotten memory had been forcibly pulled to the surface.

He recalled a past conversation with Alexander… about a mysterious girl.

He murmured quietly:

“There was a girl who arrived at the academy a week ago…

She seemed to know Y.

Alexander said her name was Elishel.”

Auren fell silent for a moment before asking cautiously:

“Does Y know about her?”

“He doesn’t. Not yet.”

Dansleif tightened his grip on the crystal, unease flickering across his face.

Auren’s final words came firm and decisive:

“Then we end this—before it grows any worse.”

And at that very moment, the enchanted sky above the academy flared once more—

as if the entire battle itself could sense that something far greater was about to begin.

At the rear wing of the Sorcerers’ Academy — inside the barrier chamber — chaos raged.

The air thundered with the clash of spells; the walls cracked beneath the pressure of colliding energies.

Light danced wildly — gold from radiant magic, blue from counterspells locked in combat.

Leonard stood firm amid the haze, his eyes fixed on his two foes:

Adrian, the traitor, and beside him a strange warlock wielding a twisted staff.

Leonard’s voice cut through the roar:

“No one can deny your defensive prowess, Adrian.”

But in the blink of an eye, light flared behind the traitor—

and from within the sparks, Leonard himself appeared, a luminous blur of motion.

A sharp kick to Adrian’s right side sent him crashing into the far wall.

Adrian dropped to one knee, clutching his ribs, his words breaking with pain:

“If not for your speed… I wouldn’t have lasted this long.”

Leonard smiled faintly.

“And if not for your defense, neither would you.”

Before he could say more, a mocking voice echoed from the doorway.

“What a delightful party… and I show up late, as usual.

Seems I’ve become the breaker of battles.”

Leonard turned sharply.

“Finally, you’re here, Marcus.

Listen—Adrian’s working with the cultists. He’s the one who dismantled the barrier.”

Marcus stood framed by shadow, his expression unreadable.

He stepped forward slowly, his tone flat and measured.

“Is that true?”

Adrian answered with eerie calm.

“Yes.”

Marcus’ voice shifted—almost as if understanding passed between them.

“I see…”

Then, standing beside Adrian, he traced a glowing circle in the air.

The ground split open, and two knights clad in white armor rose from the depths—

their bodies radiating a chilling aura of obedience.

Marcus pointed at one of them.

“Do it.”

The knight moved with heavy steps toward Adrian—

then suddenly turned, its gaze locking onto Leonard instead.

Before Leonard could react, the second knight’s blade pierced through his back.

The air itself seemed to freeze.

Leonard’s eyes widened; he spun around and unleashed a blinding surge of light,

obliterating the knight in an instant.

But his strength faltered—he fell to his knees, blood dripping onto the stone floor.

“You too… Marcus?”

he rasped, his voice raw.

Marcus chuckled softly.

“You really are stubborn.

Some pests just don’t die on the first strike.”

Leonard’s face twisted in pain as he pressed his wound.

“Another traitor… among the teachers.

One lapse in my guard—this is the result.”

He began channeling light into his palm, pressing it over the wound,

trying to heal while one of the white knights advanced to finish what its master had started.

As the chamber dimmed, the sound of light footsteps echoed from the corridor.

A flash of gold split the shadows—

and in a single motion, the knight’s head flew from its body.

Leonard raised his eyes slowly, disbelief widening them.

Angela stood before him, her golden hair glimmering under the fractured light.

Her neat braid framed a face so calm and radiant it seemed almost otherworldly.

She smiled gently and reached out her hand.

For a moment, Leonard froze—

and in her face, he saw his late mother’s reflection.

He smiled through the pain and took her hand.

“You saved me… Thank you, Angela.”

Marcus laughed coldly.

“How touching.

I would’ve felt sorry if I’d left your dear sister alive.

Tell me—what’s a failure like you doing here?

You can’t change anything.”

But another voice interrupted from behind him—calm, fiery, and playful:

“Who said she was alone?”

A massive explosion tore through the doorway, flames devouring the edge of the chamber.

Klee stood there, her face smudged with dust, hand crackling with volatile energy.

Adrian cursed, scrambling to cast a barrier.

“You’re all such a nuisance!”

Before he could finish, Leonard appeared before him again,

his palm bursting with light as he struck point-blank.

The impact sent another wave of destruction through the room.

Leonard staggered back, falling to one knee once more, gasping for breath.

Angela rushed to his side.

“Are you alright?”

“I can still fight,”

he said, smiling through the pain.

“Focus on the battle.”

Klee joined them, pulling something from her bag and handing it to Angela.

“Here, give this to him—quickly!

It’s the cloak Y gave me. A precious gift.”

Angela helped her brother into the cloak.

As she did, Leonard noticed a small silver ring on her finger.

“That ring…” he asked quietly.

Angela touched it softly.

“It’s a gift from Y.”

Leonard’s expression softened.

“It suits you.”

Angela blinked, startled—

(That’s the first time he’s ever said something like that…)

She smiled shyly.

“Thank you.”

Leonard stood, steadying himself, warmth returning to his tone.

“When this is over, let’s talk—

not as teacher and student…

but as brother and sister.”

As he spoke, the cloak began to shine, light surging across its fabric.

His wounds sealed rapidly before their eyes.

“What… what is this?” he murmured.

Klee grinned.

“That cloak heals its wearer as long as they still have magic.

It was Y’s gift to me.”

Leonard lifted his sword, radiant energy gathering around the blade once more.

He faced Marcus and Adrian, who had already braced themselves for the next clash.

“I’ll thank him later,” he said, voice steady and sharp.

“For now—

Round Two begins.”

On the right flank of the Sorcerers’ Academy, Rose moved with astonishing confidence.

Every motion of her hand released flashes of pure blue light that devoured her enemies one after another.

She needed no backup—she was an entire front on her own.

With each fallen cultist, the room grew quieter…

until the silence was broken by a body hurtling toward her at terrifying speed, like a fired cannonball.

Rose lifted her hand calmly.

A burst of azure magic erupted around her, vaporizing the attacker before he could take another step.

Lowering her arm, she gazed past the scattered corpses into the shadows and said evenly:

“Who are you? You don’t seem like one of them.”

From the smoke emerged a man, walking with measured steps.

His clothes were torn, his eyes sharp—like someone who had faced death too many times.

A faint gray aura lifted him off the ground as he spoke in a weary tone:

“Why is everyone I meet here so damn strong?”

Rose smiled faintly.

“That’s just your luck. Best face it with courage.”

The man chuckled softly.

“I was hoping to fight that fox spirit…

but she’s not here, is she?”

Rose raised a brow, her tone cautious.

“You mean Ash.”

“She’s not here?” he asked.

“No,” Rose replied, studying his movements carefully.

“Good. Fighting her’s a pain—

especially with that human beside her.

How can someone resist gravity magic so easily?”

He crossed his arms, frowning slightly.

Rose clasped her fingers, a ripple of blue light forming around her.

“So you know Y as well?”

He sighed, a trace of embarrassment in his voice.

“We faced him once before—in the Spirit Kingdom.

I’d rather not do it again.”

Rose took a deep breath.

“Then you’re lucky. He and the others went to a cave.”

But as soon as she said the word, the man’s expression shifted.

“Wait… a cave? You mean the Great Cave?”

“Yes,” Rose answered, noticing the unease in his voice.

He raised a hand to his head, as if struck by disbelief.

“This is bad… How did it come to this?”

Rose’s gaze sharpened.

“You don’t look like someone who came here to attack in the first place.”

He laughed bitterly.

“Only a madman would willingly challenge Dansleif.”

“Then why are you here?” she pressed, her tone firm.

The man lifted his hand, revealing a glowing sigil etched across his skin.

“My name is Piros.

I was part of an old hunting squad.

We made a magical pact with one of Soldan’s disciples—

and because of that… we’re bound to obey.

Our group was split into two teams: one sent to the cave,

the other… to assist in this assault on the academy.”

Rose stepped back slightly, her eyes scanning him intently.

“I see.

No one dares break a magical contract…

the price is fatal.”

Piros nodded silently, the acceptance of doom written in his eyes.

The air between them shimmered with gathering energy,

tiny sparks flickering as magic began to build.

Rose raised her hand gently—blue mist swirling behind her like a storm.

Piros gathered his gray aura and rose higher into the air.

They locked eyes—two warriors with no malice,

only duty neither could escape.

“Looks like we’ll have to fight, won’t we?”

he said with a sad smile.

“I don’t fight for pleasure,” Rose replied,

her magic spreading like a soft fog.

“But if you stand in the way—

I won’t hesitate.”

They both rose higher into the air.

Light exploded between them—

the beginning of a battle unlike any that had come before.

On the final front of the Sorcerers’ Academy—

within the ancient library, where the oldest tomes and secrets of the world were kept—

Alexander personally oversaw the defense.

He stood gripping his long spear, eyes fixed on the stillness that comes before disaster.

Then suddenly, the air shifted.

Its clarity turned heavy and suffocating—

as though the library itself had begun to choke.

Pages trembled, and the light dimmed to a sickly hue.

Alexander’s stance hardened. His voice was calm but alert.

“You heard the warning, didn’t you?

Return to your assigned shelter, for your own safety, Elishel.”

Her voice drifted from between the shelves—soft, but cold as frost:

“You’re kind, Alkis…

unlike a certain someone.”

He narrowed his eyes.

“You mean… Y?”

She screamed suddenly, the sound shattering through the library walls:

“Don’t say his name!”

The air quaked violently.

Just uttering that name seemed to summon the black depths of forbidden magic.

Elishel emerged from the shadows—

her silver hair whipping like tendrils of smoke,

her eyes burning with molten hatred.

“That man…” she said, voice trembling with fury,

“He didn’t just destroy my life in the previous world—

he followed me here to ruin this one too!”

Alexander lowered his spear slightly, his tone heavy and deliberate.

“And… the others?

Why are you alone?”

Tears shimmered in her eyes for a moment before rage consumed them.

“They all died—five months ago.

Killed by your friend, Y.”

A silence followed, deep and uneasy.

Alexander’s face tensed as her words echoed in his mind.

“Five months…?” he murmured to himself.

“That’s when Y said he returned from the dungeon…

It doesn’t add up.”

He spoke louder:

“Are you sure?”

She didn’t answer.

Instead, she closed her eyes—memories flooding in.

⸻

Flashback – The Village Tragedy

“Yes… As you know, we were weak.

So we settled in a small region, a village near a minor dungeon.”

Her voice quivered—somewhere between anger and grief.

“That was about a year ago.

After four months of training, my team was finally ready for the Silver Rank exam…

all except me.”

A sorrowful smile flickered on her lips.

“They went to the Hunters’ Guild without me.

There was a vampire there—also taking a promotion test.

Since she was higher-ranked, the guild assigned her as their examiner.”

She looked at Alexander with hollow eyes.

“They agreed… and entered the dungeon together.”

“A day passed.

Then a week.

Then a month.

And no one returned.”

Her breathing grew sharp, unsteady.

“I waited for them every evening at the village gate…

counting sunsets one after another.”

“After two months, the vampire finally emerged—

with one person beside her.”

“His name… was Y.”

Her lips trembled before the next words escaped.

“Moments after they returned, I got the news.

All my friends were dead.

Their bodies burned to ash.

Nothing left but dust and smoke.”

⸻

End of Flashback

Alexander lowered his head slightly, his voice quiet but steady.

“That doesn’t mean he caused their deaths, Elishel.”

She raised her arms in fury, shadows surging like a storm around her.

“They said he burned the corpses!

And how else do you explain that the vampire came out with him alone?”

“You’re mistaken!” Alexander shouted firmly.

“Y would never do something like that.”

Her lips quivered—then her voice exploded with hate.

“That demon in human form!

He stole everything from me—my weapon, my friends, my happiness!

Even on my birthday, they celebrated his instead of mine—

and we were born on the same day!”

She raised her hand.

In her palm pulsed a black stone—

its glow beating like a living heart.

“He’s the one thing I hate most in this world…”

Dark energy began to coil around her,

slithering across the shelves like a serpent of shadow.

“But today… I’ll create my own happiness.”

The air screamed.

The floor shook violently beneath their feet.

Shelves shattered, and pages swirled in a storm of darkness.

Her black magic filled every corner of the room.

Alexander stepped back slightly, whispering to himself:

“She’s completely consumed by the dark…”

Then he gripped his spear tightly, voice laden with pain.

“As an old friend… it’s my duty to bring you back.”

But Elishel smiled faintly—her expression ghostly and broken.

“The right path…

is the one where Y doesn’t exist.”

The black stone rose into the air—

and the library exploded in a surge of shadowed light.

The spark that would ignite the coming catastrophe.