Chapter 29: The Day of Choices

On that day—a day forever etched in everyone’s memory—

the day when each person chose their side and raised their weapon in the name of what they believed in.

Chaos engulfed the halls of the Sorcerers’ University, and the echoes of conflict resounded through every corner,

until even the walls themselves stood as silent witnesses to the madness that had consumed the place.

At that very moment, deep within the Great Cavern, other battles were being fought—

battles not meant to change the course of a single day, but to reshape all the days that would follow.

Among all those fronts, between those who chose to attack and those who stood to defend,

there was one person who chose neither.

He chose silence.

He chose to wait.

He was not absent from the fight—

he was merely watching for the moment that would change everything.

⸻

Inside the Great Cavern

Silence cloaked the place.

Only a distant echo could be heard, along with faint tremors crawling through the stone walls,

as if the world outside the cavern was burning.

At the center of a magical barrier sat Y, motionless.

His eyes were closed, his breathing calm, as though he were completely detached from the chaos devouring the Sorcerers’ University above.

At the edge of the circle stood Baradok, staring at him with narrowed eyes filled with confusion and unease.

Baradok (grumbling to himself):

I’m certain he can feel all these tremors…

the battles out there never stop—

and yet, his aura is annoyingly calm.

He stepped closer, the silence itself growing heavier than the air.

Baradok:

You… what exactly are you doing?

Why aren’t you moving?

Why don’t you go out there and fight?

Silence.

Y did not open his eyes.

Baradok (muttering irritably):

Damn it… I made a mistake staying here with him.

He said he could get out anytime—that’s why I stayed to watch.

But he hasn’t moved an inch!

Does that mean he doesn’t want to fight?

Or… is he inviting me into the circle?

Slowly, Y opened one eye, his posture unchanged.

Y:

“Why so tense? Staying here was your decision…

so you should bear the consequences of it.”

Baradok frowned.

Baradok:

What’s your goal? Why did you even come in here?

Y (in a tone that carried certainty rather than patience):

“My goal is very simple…

I want to be saved.”

Baradok froze for a moment.

Baradok:

What do you mean?

Y:

“I mean exactly what I said…

I want my team to save me.”

Baradok:

But why? Didn’t you say you can leave whenever you want?

Y:

“Yes, I can leave at any time.”

Baradok:

Then why?

Y lifted his head slightly, as if speaking of something that required no explanation.

Y:

“I expected you to understand.”

Baradok:

Understand what?

Y:

“The feeling of being a shadow of yourself.

The one standing in the way of everyone else’s growth.

That’s why… I chose to step back.”

A heavy silence followed—

not empty, but filled with meaning deeper than words.

Y (continuing):

“My companions are remarkable… but they’re still seeking balance.

Ash — a spirit torn between her hatred for humans and her desire to grow by helping one.

Lunaria — a human who’s never tasted victory, who lost faith in herself.

Diona — a girl who found safety after pain… yet now relies too much on others.”

Baradok lowered his gaze, comprehension slowly shaping his expression, mixed with a hint of concern.

Baradok:

This decision of yours… might cost you dearly.

Y raised his head again and opened his eyes fully, calm yet resolute.

Y:

“I know.

But it’s a risk they must overcome.

Otherwise… a cruel future awaits them.”

He paused, then added quietly:

“I chose to be a friend, not a leader.”

Baradok:

A leader does whatever it takes to complete the mission…

But a friend—he’s the one who never leaves anyone behind.

———————

In another chamber deep within the cavern, a violent explosion erupted, followed by a thick cloud of smoke.

From amidst the haze and sparks staggered Ash, blood streaming down her forehead and into her eyes, her body covered in cuts and bruises.

Ash (breathing heavily):

What… am I seeing? Why is he…?

Footsteps echoed slowly through the smoke.

A man’s shadow emerged—wielding two crossed blades, his hair of medium length, and a distinctive mark upon his hand.

Ash’s heart skipped a beat.

That wasn’t just a familiar face—

it was the face that had once given her life meaning.

The man before her was Y—

but a stone replica, conjured through magic.

Ash:

Why… is there another version of Y?

From afar, a deep, rumbling voice shook the ground, emanating from a throne made of bones.

Upon it sat a massive stone creature, speaking in a mocking tone:

“I am a magical entity… the embodiment of the one you least wish to fight.”

A fierce light ignited in Ash’s eyes, energy surging into her palms.

Ash:

“When this battle ends… you’ll regret ever creating that illusion.”

——————

On the other side of the cavern—

at that very moment, Lunaria was locked in battle with Zack deep within the cave’s heart.

The sound of clashing steel filled the air—

a rapid rhythm of strikes and parries, sparks bursting with every blow.

A step forward… a swift retreat… then another sudden charge.

Each watched the other with razor-sharp eyes, as though a single blink could decide the fight’s outcome.

Zack (with a calm smile, the kind worn by a warrior who’s finally found what he seeks):

I haven’t had a fight this thrilling in a long time…

a battle where blades speak louder than words.

My name is Zack.

Lunaria (steady and resolute):

I’m Lunaria.

Zack (twirling his sword lightly between his fingers):

I’m impressed by your swordplay… tell me, who taught you this art?

Lunaria:

My master’s name is Kyojiro. He taught me how to fight.

But Y… he’s the one who refined my technique.

Zack’s brows lifted with genuine interest.

The White Phantom… Kyojiro.

Then I suppose there’s no need to hold back anymore.

He drew a second blade, and in an instant, the distance between them vanished.

A flash—an assault as swift as lightning.

Lunaria crossed her twin swords to block,

but Zack’s power was heavier, sharper.

The force drove her back violently; she crashed against the rocky wall and dropped to her knees, gasping for breath.

Zack (not mocking, but with analytical precision):

Strange… your skill is impressive, but your blade lacks confidence.

You said that Y was the one who refined your style, right?

I would’ve preferred to face him myself…

but you’ll do for now.

Lunaria lowered her head.

For a brief, silent moment… her mind drifted back in time.

Training Memories

Lunaria sat on the ground, her chest rising and falling with exhaustion.

Sweat glistened on her forehead, and her sword lay beside her, its edge dull from countless strikes.

Before her stood Kyojiro, silent as ever—his calm features concealing a stern resolve that allowed no argument.

Kyojiro:

You’ve improved greatly… but this is where your training ends.

Lunaria lifted her head, her voice trembling slightly.

But… I couldn’t land a single hit on you…

Kyojiro answered steadily, as though stating an unshakable truth.

The problem isn’t with you.

If it were someone else in my place, they might’ve let you win once.

But this style… doesn’t suit me.

Lunaria (softly):

I don’t understand…?

Kyojiro:

Your problem isn’t technical—it’s psychological.

It’s not about your skill… it’s about your belief in yourself.

I kept telling you that you were improving,

but it seems my words never truly reached you.

His words struck her heart with quiet weight.

Lunaria:

But… wasn’t I right?

I haven’t won a single fight…

With every defeat, it feels like everything I’ve done was meaningless—

like I’m back at the very beginning.

Kyojiro took a step closer, his voice gaining depth.

There’s no such thing as a “beginning point” in training.

You don’t return to zero—you start from experience.

We’ve fought many times, and each time you understood more about my style.

You’re not regressing, Lunaria… you’re advancing.

You just can’t see it yet.

Then, he turned his back to her, his tone softening like a man closing a chapter of his life.

I’ve taught you everything I can.

From here… you’ll have to continue on your own.

I’m leaving tomorrow.

Lunaria jumped to her feet.

Then I’ll come with you! I’ll keep training! I—

Kyojiro interrupted, quiet but absolute:

It won’t work.

She fell silent.

It wasn’t shock—it was the emptiness that follows it.

Lunaria:

Have you… given up on me?

He didn’t turn around.

His voice came out steady, sharp as a blade.

When we fight…

you know I’ll never strike you.

And that—

is your greatest weakness.

Her eyes widened,

but no words came out.

He walked away, his footsteps fading into the stillness.

Kyojiro (from afar):

One last piece of advice… as your teacher.

Forget what others say—

and keep training.

Training… never betrays those who stay true to it.

And there she stood,

alone between her sword… and the sound of her own heartbeat.

⸻

Years Later

Lunaria had finally understood.

Lunaria (inner voice):

In the Forest of the Elves…

on a day when my pride clouded my mind…

I challenged Y.

It was our hundredth duel—

and my hundredth defeat.

The moment the fight began, an aura surged from him—

one so sharp, so pure, it froze my limbs in place.

My mind went blank for a heartbeat.

That aura…

it wasn’t like anything I’d ever felt before—

it was the presence of someone whose entire existence hinged on every strike.

And in just three seconds…

I fell.

It was the fastest defeat of my life.

And on that day…

I was born anew.

Lunaria rose to her feet once more.

But this time—her stance was different.

The air around her seemed steadier,

and her eyes no longer carried hesitation,

but a calm clarity—like serenity after a storm.

Zack watched her intently,

with the gaze of a warrior who knows precisely when a new opponent is born.

Zack:

Well done…

Now, let’s begin again.

Lunaria (with a faint, genuine smile):

I’ve made you wait far too long…

my apologies for that.

Zack raised both his swords, a confident grin still etched across his face.

Zack:

Don’t worry…

as long as you show me a fight worthy of my time,

I’m more than satisfied.

⸻

Lunaria extended her hand into the air—

and in an instant, transparent blades began to form, one after another,

as if the very air itself bowed to her will.

She leapt upon one of them, using it as a platform suspended in midair.

Her hair flowed with an unseen current,

and her sword shimmered faintly—

like moonlight dancing on still water.

Lunaria:

Now I’ll show you…

the style that Y refined with his own hands.

She darted forward—swift as lightning.

Across from her, Zack didn’t move.

He didn’t defend.

He didn’t even brace himself.

Instead, he spread his arms slightly,

as though welcoming the storm that was about to strike.

Zack (smiling):

Come.

Lunaria unleashed the airborne blades all at once.

But the moment they entered Zack’s range—everything changed.

With a single motion—

his body moved in a flawless, fluid rhythm.

His twin swords carved intersecting arcs,

and the clash of steel tore through the air.

In that instant—

every flying sword was deflected,

metallic sparks scattering like fleeting blossoms,

blooming for a heartbeat… then fading away.

But Lunaria did not stop.

Still standing atop her platform of air,

she darted straight into Zack’s engagement range.

Zack raised his right arm—

a swift, vertical slash, sharp enough to end most duels in one strike.

Yet just as the blade descended—

Lunaria vanished.

His sword sliced through nothing but air.

Zack (with a brief shock):

She vanished…!

Lunaria reappeared above the same suspended blade—

the same angle, the same place…

but at a different moment.

A quick strike—

cutting across Zack’s shoulder.

He retaliated instantly with a left-hand slash—

but she vanished again.

Zack (now in a warrior’s tone, realization dawning):

That movement… again!

The next instant—

a shadow appeared behind him.

Lunaria descended from above,

and Zack spun around, raising both blades in time to block.

Steel met steel; he stepped back twice, regaining his stance.

They locked eyes—

a silent exchange of respect between two who no longer needed words.

They paused.

The air between them still shimmered with the remnants of their last spark.

Zack (genuinely, without pretense):

I’ve never seen a technique like that before.

Lunaria didn’t smile, nor boast.

Instead, she quietly opened her palm,

forging a small blade of light,

and tossed it toward him with graceful precision.

He caught it—not because he had to,

but because he wanted to understand.

On the hilt, he noticed a thin magic talisman,

its inscriptions glowing with faint streams of energy.

Lunaria:

Familiar… isn’t it?

Zack:

A transport sigil—

used to move objects from one place to another,

as long as this magical seal is present.

He lifted his gaze to her.

Zack:

But… no one’s ever used it in combat before.

Lunaria:

I know.

Everyone was shocked by the idea at first.

Zack:

You must’ve thought about this for a long time.

She looked at him calmly, her voice void of pride.

Lunaria:

Unfortunately…

I’m still the weaker version of this style.

Zack’s eyes narrowed slightly.

Zack:

You mean… there’s someone who’s mastered it beyond you?

Lunaria:

Yes.

The one you truly wish to face.

If Y had used that move against you just now—

the fight would’ve ended instantly.

A short silence fell between them,

a mutual understanding spoken through their eyes alone.

Then Zack smiled—

a sincere one, free of denial or pride.

Zack:

I won’t argue with that.

He raised both swords once more, his voice regaining its iron resolve.

Zack:

Let’s continue.

Lunaria said nothing.

But this time, her gaze was no longer that of a fighter seeking victory—

it was the look of someone reborn…

within the battle itself.

‏On the other side of the cavern,

‏Anna watched from afar, a faint smile curving her lips.

‏Anna (softly):

‏It seems… she’s actually enjoying herself this time.

‏But before she could finish her thought,

‏the silence was pierced by a sharp, confident voice—

‏Stella:

‏Hey… are you still fighting me, or did you start spectating?

‏Anna turned, her gentle smile shifting into one of cautious excitement.

‏Anna:

‏My apologies…

‏Let’s continue.

—————

At the same time — The Sorcerers’ University

Inside the Grand Library,

the floor was strewn with the bodies of exhausted sorcerers.

Most had collapsed after their mana had run dry…

Only Elishel remained standing, facing Alexander,

who held his personal staff with calm precision.

His eyes were sharp, yet his composure never faltered.

Elishel (sharply):

Even you… you stand against me, Alex?

Alexander:

Whatever your issue with Y may be,

I’m only protecting the place I work in—nothing more.

A faint smile crossed his face, though there was no humor in it.

The silence that followed didn’t last long.

The heavy doors of the library burst open with a sudden, echoing sound.

A man entered—a figure unlike any other.

His natural hair covered the right side of his head,

while the left side was completely bare.

His attire blended leather and steel with flawless precision,

and on his back rested a slender, metallic sword that gleamed with a cold, silver light.

Elishel:

Who are you?

Alexander (with mild surprise):

Wait… you’re Soran?!

What are you doing here?

Soran:

My wife came to take the sorcery examination,

and I came along as her escort.

But it seems… things have gotten out of hand.

He glanced at Alexander with a half-smile.

Soran:

I don’t think we’ve met in person, have we?

Alexander:

Not in person, no.

But I know you by name.

You’re one of the top ten players…

and Y mentioned you before.

Soran’s eyes glimmered faintly, touched by distant memories.

Soran:

Y… what a name to hear again.

We didn’t play together often,

but I respected him—

not just as a player,

but as a person.

He was one of the few who used to watch my wife’s streams.

His presence alone would make her smile.

He’d drop by every now and then… just to say, “Well done.”

Elishel (suddenly, her tone sharp and trembling with emotion):

Enough talk about him!

Dark magic began to surge from her body,

rising like a living smoke—

one that fed on her anger.

Elishel:

You’re all with him!

Can’t you see?

I’m the one who’s been wronged!

I’m the one who’s suffered because of him!

Soran stepped back slightly,

his eyes narrowing as shadows began to coil around her form.

Soran (quietly, to Angela, who stood behind him):

Looks like we’ve got a real problem here…

The dark circles widened,

the magic thickened—

until even the air itself grew heavy,

so much so that those outside the library could feel it.

——————

At the heart of the University

Auren stood atop a high tower, watching the situation in silence.

Suddenly, he felt a wave of dark energy coming from the direction of the library.

Auren:

Huh… so that’s why contact with Alex was cut off.

He slowly took the commstone from his pocket and said in a low voice:

I’m sure you felt that accursed magic in the library, didn’t you, Dansleif?

⸻

Out front

Dansleif:

Not only did I feel it… I understood their plan as well.

Their goal is to create a massive magical explosion.

Auren:

And their method to make it is… to absorb all the magic in the air inside the University.

Dansleif:

Exactly.

As long as the fights continue, the absorption continues.

Auren:

Which means… inevitable death.

But why? Who would want an explosion like that?

Dansleif:

You still don’t grasp the nature of Soldan’s magic, Auren.

Auren:

The nature of Soldan?

Dansleif:

Soldan’s magic is not combative… it’s psychological.

It manipulates negative emotions.

The more those emotions grow, the stronger its effect on the victim.

I’m certain the person who will cause the explosion… doesn’t even know what will happen to them.

Auren:

So that madman Soldan…

Our only solution is to kill that person before they explode.

Dansleif:

Even if we kill them, the explosion won’t stop.

That’s how Soldan’s spells always work.

Auren:

And I don’t think trying to relocate the person will succeed…

Dansleif:

Exactly.

He absorbs magic and scatters it.

Even if we tried to move him, we might fail the transfer…

or worse — he could explode somewhere else with innocents.

Auren:

Then there’s only one option left… Y.

He lifted another commstone, his voice growing more serious.

Auren:

Lauma, can you hear me?

Lauma:

I told you I’m busy evacuating the wounded…

Auren:

We don’t have time.

Go to the Great Cavern at once, and bring Y with you.

Every second now could cost us dearly.

Lauma:

Understood…

I’m heading there immediately.

—————

In the Great Cavern — Inside the Stone Chamber

Ash lay collapsed on the ground.

Her body was covered in wounds and scratches, and the dried blood clinging to her skin looked like soot.

She lifted her eyes toward the cavern ceiling, her voice breaking, faint and weary—

as if it were the last thing left of her life.

Ash (whispering):

Even against a replica… I still can’t win…

The stone monster sat upon its rocky throne, watching her in cold silence—

a silence devoid of mercy.

Meanwhile, Y’s replica stood before her, perfectly still—

not moving, as if waiting for something beyond the fight itself.

A faint, bitter smile crossed Ash’s lips, the blood gleaming upon them.

Ash:

What a liar I am…

Fighting a copy of Y only showed me the truth I’d been running from…

I still hate humans… even now.

The stone beast stirred, rising with heavy, earth-shaking steps.

It reached its massive hand toward her—

But before its fingers could touch her,

its arm was severed cleanly from its body.

The replica had moved.

No scream. No emotion.

It simply refused to let anyone interfere in its battle.

The monster stepped back,

and in its voice came something almost like fear—

fear of a meaning it could not comprehend.

Ash closed her eyes,

and whispered to herself, like a final confession.

Ash:

Tell me, Ash… which is stronger?

The hatred you’ve carried since your mother’s death…

or your will to stand beside Y and L?

The answer needed no words.

She already knew it within her heart.

She remembered the words she once said to L, long ago:

“Ash… if he ever loses his magic, then I’ll be Y’s magic.”

It wasn’t her body that was collapsing now—

but everything she had buried since childhood:

the hatred.

the fear.

the rejection.

They all howled within her like a wounded beast refusing to die.

Then—

Light erupted.

But it wasn’t a searing light…

It was calm, gentle—

as though the world itself had finally taken a breath.

Ash’s body rose from the ground,

her breathing slowing, each exhale shedding something that no longer belonged to her.

In that moment—

she was free.

Her features softened,

her skin gleamed faintly like dawnlight,

and behind her, tails began to appear—one after another—

until seven moved in perfect rhythm with her breath.

Her eyes were no longer filled with rage—

but with clarity.

Ash (softly):

…The Domain.

The ground beneath her cracked—

not breaking apart, but blooming.

Roots surged from the depths of stone,

and the cavern vanished as though it had never existed.

In its place stretched an endless plain—

green grass waving in a seasonless breeze,

and towering trees whose leaves glowed with living light.

At the center—

rose the World Tree.

Its trunk wider than castles,

its branches brushing the heavens,

its shadow eternal.

Ash (in quiet wonder):

The Domain… the World Tree.

The air trembled around her—

not in threat, but in declaration.

She floated upward,

her voice now a blend of resolve and serenity.

Ash:

I understand now, L…

What you did wasn’t rebellion…

It was choice.

And now… I choose as well.

I’ll leave behind my anger—

to protect those I love.

Behind her, the World Tree shone in five interwoven colors:

Fire.

Water.

Earth.

Air.

Lightning.

In her hand gathered a shifting sphere of energy—

as if it held the essence of life itself.

Ash (to the replica):

Thank you…

Because of you, I can stand beside him now…

not behind him.

She raised her hand—

and released the attack.

Light engulfed everything.

The Domain trembled… then began to fade,

like a candle bidding farewell to its final flame.

The scene reformed—

memories folding back into a single moment.

Ash descended slowly,

her breathing heavy but steady.

Her features calm, her eyes clearer than ever before.

From within the smoke—

the replica of Y appeared again.

Half of its left side was gone,

yet its posture remained unchanged—

upright, unshaken,

carrying a presence that inspired not fear…

but remembrance.

It reminded her of one truth:

this was someone who does not break.

Ash smiled, despite the exhaustion weighing down her breaths.

Ash:

I wouldn’t expect anything less… from a replica of Y.

In a single instant—

the replica moved.

It dashed past her,

not attacking,

but charging straight toward the stone monster

that had tried to strike while she was weakened.

One strike.

No sound. No struggle.

Only a soft collapse into dust,

scattered by the wind.

Ash stood still, watching in deep silence…

then let out a quiet, genuine laugh—

a sound filled with gratitude and awe.

Ash:

Even your shadow… refuses to bow to anyone.

She walked forward slowly,

raised her hand,

and touched what remained of its arm.

Ash (gently):

Thank you… for saving me.

It said nothing.

It simply faded away—

as though its existence had been nothing more than

a fleeting reflection of a greater will.

Ash remained alone,

in the vast silence she herself had created from the heart of the cavern.

She looked around,

smiled with quiet melancholy,

and whispered to herself:

Ash:

You truly are something else…

Even your reflection carries an unshakable will.

——————

In the Great Cavern — Within the Stone Chamber

Lauma had finally arrived.

Her breathing was ragged, and the magic saturating the air was almost unbearable.

She rushed into the cavern, her voice echoing off the stone walls.

Lauma (frantic):

Y! Where are you?!

But on the other side of the chamber,

Y was sitting at the center of a shimmering barrier.

His eyes were closed, and his silence felt like part of an ancient ritual.

Then—

he heard familiar footsteps.

His ears twitched slightly, and he spoke in a low murmur, almost to himself.

Y:

It’s time.

He rose quietly, drawing his weapon without hesitation.

Before him stood Baradok, his greatsword resting on his shoulder, gaze unwavering.

Baradok:

So… you’ve finally decided to move.

He unsheathed his blade slowly,

waiting just outside the glowing circle, where the blue light danced around Y.

But before either could utter a word—

In a fraction of a second,

the barrier shattered.

The magic circle vanished—

and Y appeared right in front of Baradok.

Instinct overrode reason.

All of Baradok’s senses ignited at once.

His body moved on its own—

His blade pierced Y’s chest.

Baradok froze in disbelief,

his face pale, voice trembling.

Baradok:

I… I didn’t mean to! My body moved on its own—

That aura… it’s just like that black dragon!

Y looked at him, calm as ever,

the sword still lodged in his chest.

Y (quietly):

I brought you the opponent you needed…

to regain your resolve.

Baradok:

What are you talking about—?

Before he could finish,

the chamber doors burst open.

Diona appeared, running toward them—her eyes widening in horror.

Diona:

Y! I’m here to—

She stopped.

Her eyes grew wider still as she saw the blood.

Y whispered—barely audible—addressing Baradok.

Y (whispering):

Take care of her…

Then, with one strong push,

he shoved Baradok backward.

Blood gushed freely as Y fell to the ground.

Baradok (confused, panicked):

I don’t understand—what’s happening?!

He turned toward Diona, desperate to explain,

but she wasn’t listening.

Shock had turned her face into a mirror of pain.

Tears streamed down her cheeks uncontrollably,

and her scream tore through the cavern—

Diona (screaming):

Y—!!!

Magic burst from her body like a storm.

The air trembled with a pure yet unbearable power.

Baradok stared, disbelief written across his face.

Baradok:

That amount of magic… it’s impossible!

At that moment, Y watched silently,

his eyes lost within the rising mist.

Y (to himself):

This hurts me… just as much as it hurts her.

But I found no better way… to teach her.

Diona lifted her head,

and something in her gaze had shattered—

something that would never mend again.

She raised her hand,

forming a blade of pure magic—its hue resembling Lunaria’s light.

In a single instant,

she vanished.

She reappeared before Baradok, striking straight for his neck.

Baradok (startled):

Wind magic?!

He dodged back just in time to avoid decapitation,

but Diona hurled the knife toward him—

it barely missed his head as he twisted aside.

Then—she vanished again.

She appeared behind him,

gripping the same blade she’d thrown seconds before,

and attacked from the rear.

Baradok (thinking):

Spatial transfer magic?!

He swung his massive sword to block—

their clash sparked violently,

but Diona’s wind burst sent him flying.

She steadied herself midair,

thrusting both hands forward,

creating a cascade of interlocking magic circles—

Fire and Light.

She unleashed them all at once.

Baradok raised his sword as a shield,

and the explosion slammed into the cavern walls,

filling the air with choking smoke.

Baradok (gritting his teeth, retreating):

How can she use multiple elements… at her age?

Before he could catch his breath,

a silhouette emerged behind him in the haze.

Baradok (low, dangerous tone):

You’re underestimating me, little one…

Black flames ignited around him,

and he spun with blinding speed,

forming a vortex of shadowed fire.

It tore through the smoke—

and sliced Diona’s body clean in half.

But her form dissolved instantly.

Baradok (shocked):

A decoy?!

And from behind him—

the real Diona appeared,

gripping her bow with trembling hands,

gathering pure light until it engulfed her.

That same attack—

the one she’d unleashed back in the Elven Forest.

She released the arrow.

A radiance like the sun filled the chamber.

It struck Baradok’s sword dead-on,

sending him flying with tremendous force.

When the light finally faded,

Diona collapsed to her knees,

panting heavily, her body spent—

but her spirit unbroken.

Baradok stood amidst the drifting smoke, blood dripping from his arm, his eyes scanning the area warily.

He raised his sword and spoke in a strained voice.

Baradok:

If not for my blade… I wouldn’t even be standing now.

(breathing deeply)

You’re dangerous, girl.

But before he could finish, a calm, familiar voice cut through the air—

quiet, yet carrying an undeniable weight.

Voice:

And what do you think you’re doing… to my little sister?

Baradok froze.

Diona turned slowly, her tear-streaked eyes widening in disbelief.

Diona (trembling):

…Y?

He approached her with steady steps,

blood still on his clothes, but his eyes shining with a calm light.

He placed a gentle hand on her head.

Y (with a faint smile):

You saved me… thank you.

Diona (crying):

I thought you were… dead…

Y:

Almost.

But I used a bit of your magic to heal myself.

(In truth, he had used Dansleif’s magic—but he chose not to say it.)

Y (continuing):

I saw your fight.

It was incredible—just as I expected from my little sister.

A fragile, tearful smile formed on her lips.

Y:

Can you stand?

Diona:

No… carry me.

Y (calmly):

Alright.

He lifted her gently onto his back,

then turned toward Baradok, who still stood frozen in uncertain silence.

Y:

Follow me.

He walked forward, his steps steady, shadows shifting in his wake.

Baradok (cautiously):

What’s going on here?

Y (low voice):

Just restoring balance.

As they walked, Y leaned his head slightly toward Diona, his tone soft.

Y:

How do you feel now?

Diona:

Scared…

When I saw you lying there, bleeding—

my mind just… stopped.

Y:

That must’ve been hard for you… I’m sorry.

Diona (breathing deeply):

I’m the one who should apologize.

I relied on you too much…

and never thought about what would happen if I couldn’t find you.

I just kept wondering… if you had died,

what would I even tell Anna? Leona? Ash? L? Everyone?

Y smiled faintly.

Y:

Even the smallest battle… can lead to the greatest disasters.

He then looked at the faint light still surrounding her.

Y:

It seems your magic activates based on your sense of danger.

For ordinary people, danger means a threat to themselves.

But for you—

it begins only when someone else is about to die.

Diona (quietly):

For me… as long as I’m alive, I’m fine.

When I was little, I used to get hurt all the time—

tripped, fell, got beaten up…

But I got used to the pain.

Only now… I’ve learned what real danger means.

Y (gently):

Good.

Now you’ll be able to use your magic more freely.

He turned to Baradok.

Y:

What do you think of my little sister?

Baradok (grinning through the pain):

She’s at least on the level of a Rank-B Hunter.

Y (with quiet pride):

You hear that? You’re amazing.

Diona blushed, smiling shyly.

Suddenly, Y stopped.

His eyes fixed on one of the cavern walls.

Y:

Baradok… can you destroy that wall for me?

Baradok:

Sure.

He lifted his massive sword and struck.

The wall shattered—

and behind it, Ash lay on the ground.

Y hurried to her side, a warm smile softening his face.

Y:

I’m glad you’re safe.

Ash (weakly):

Good job, Diona…

And you, Y—think you could carry me too?

Y (light laugh):

Sure.

He lifted Ash in his arms, Diona still resting on his back,

and said calmly:

Y:

Who were you fighting?

Ash (smiling faintly):

A little secret… I’ll tell you later.

Then, suddenly—

A familiar voice echoed through the cavern.

Voice:

Finally… I found you.

They turned—

Lauma stood at the entrance,

her expression a mix of worry and disbelief.

Diona:

Lauma…

Lauma (exhaling):

What happened to all of you?!

Anyway—Y, they need you at the University right now.

Y:

Alright…

But first, take them to Anna and Lunaria.

Lauma (nodding):

Understood.

She raised her hand,

and before them opened a glowing portal—

its light rippling like a mirror between worlds.

They stepped through one by one—

some smiling through their pain,

others lost in quiet thought about what was yet to come.

At the University

The black magic surged from Elishel as if the very air itself were suffocating under her breath.

The ground quaked; the walls groaned beneath the mounting pressure of her power, a force that only grew with each passing second.

Soran, surrounded by layers of protective magic, shouted through gritted teeth, his voice dry and edged with worry.

Soran:

Our spells aren’t working… Got a plan, Alex?

Alexander, struggling to maintain a cracking defensive barrier, answered sharply.

Alexander:

We need to contact Dansleif or Auren, but the communication stone isn’t responding—

the energy field around us is completely distorted.

We have to retreat for now!

Soran:

Then there’s no other choice.

They exchanged a brief, grim look—

then leapt through the fractured window of the great library.

The air outside was thick with magic—

a mixture of smoke and rage that weighed down every breath.

Behind them, Elishel’s voice rang through the halls,

sharp and furious, cutting through the chaos.

Elishel (shouting):

You won’t run… none of you will escape!

A surge of black radiance erupted from her—

devouring books, shelves, and even the light itself.

Runes of dark magic rose from the floor,

consuming everything in their path.

⸻

At the front courtyard of the university —

Dansleif stood amidst the devastation,

his hand clamped tightly around the neck of a young warlock—

one of Soldan’s disciples.

The boy’s face was pale,

but a sick, feverish smile curved his lips.

Dansleif (coldly):

You’ve delayed me… far too long.

The disciple laughed weakly,

his voice cracked but defiant.

Disciple:

It doesn’t matter…

I’ve served my master well.

Dansleif didn’t reply.

He simply raised his hand—

and dark crimson flames flared to life,

their color twisted and unnatural.

In an instant, the boy’s body ignited.

His scream died before it could form,

and in moments, nothing remained but drifting ash.

Dansleif brushed the remnants from his hand,

his eyes turning toward the distant library—

where the ground had begun to pulse with a black light.

Dansleif (in a low murmur):

The explosion… has begun.

——————

Inside the Cavern

The echoes of battle still lingered through the depths of the cave.

Sparks of magic flashed against the broken stone,

and the air trembled with ragged breaths heavy with exhaustion.

Reinhardt and Raven stood facing one another amid the rubble,

their breathing shallow, their eyes sharp.

Reinhardt (quietly, with faint mockery):

I told you… there’s no one here with a single eye.

Raven noticed the mark that had been on Reinhardt’s hand had vanished.

He exhaled, sliding his dagger back into its sheath.

Raven:

Then there’s no reason to keep fighting.

Before the tension could fade,

a portal of light tore open in the center of the cavern—

its glow spilling over the jagged floor.

From it emerged Y,

Diona resting weakly on his back, Ash in his arms,

and behind them followed Lauma and Baradok.

A familiar voice echoed from the corridor:

Voice:

Are you all alright?

Y (calmly):

Yes… what about you, Anna?

Anna (smiling):

I’m fine.

From the other side, Stella stepped forward cautiously,

her eyes fixed sharply on Baradok.

Stella:

What are you doing with him, Baradok?

He said nothing—

so Y broke the silence with a short question.

Y:

What about Lunaria?

Anna (pointing ahead):

See for yourself…

Y turned toward the opposite passage—

and there she was.

Lunaria stood at the heart of a storm of floating blades,

locked in a fierce duel with Zack.

She moved like lightning,

forging swords of light that circled Zack in a gleaming cage,

each strike sharper than the last.

But Zack met her assault with calm precision,

his movements disciplined—

as if his body could read her intent before she acted.

Lunaria leapt onto one of her conjured blades,

then hurled herself downward in a flash.

At that instant, Zack twisted his body,

spinning with the momentum of his strike.

Their blades met—

a burst of sparks—

and both fell hard to the ground.

Lauma (nervously):

Looks like a draw.

Y (quietly, knowing):

Not yet.

Both fighters rose again,

battered, bleeding—

but unbroken.

They exchanged one last, unyielding look—

then charged forward for the final clash.

Lunaria struck for Zack’s wounded shoulder.

He anticipated it, twisted, dodged,

and countered with a sweeping strike—

But a sword materialized from nowhere,

blocking his attack.

Her real blade was already at his throat,

the cold edge grazing his skin.

Zack (with a weary smile):

I yield.

Lunaria stepped back,

her breaths shallow, voice trembling.

Lunaria:

Finally… my first—

Her knees gave way.

Before she could fall, Y caught her gently.

Y (softly):

That was a great fight.

She opened her tired eyes and smiled faintly.

Lunaria:

My first victory…

Y:

Seems everyone has pushed themselves to the limit.

Rest here for now.

Anna, look after them.

He turned toward Reinhardt and Zack.

Y:

As for you… there’s no reason to stay here any longer.

Zack (surprised):

But… the mark is still—

Baradok (understanding):

No, it’s gone now.

Silence fell for a moment.

Zack (grimly):

Then… that means he’s dead.

Baradok (murmuring):

So that’s why he wanted me to accompany him…

to take command of my team.

Just how far ahead did that man plan…

Y’s gaze swept across the group, steady and calm.

Y:

Then let’s move.

We’ll regroup with the rest of your team.

Lauma lifted her hand,

and space split open before them—

a portal shimmering with cool, ethereal light,

casting soft reflections on their weary faces.

They exchanged brief glances,

then stepped through one by one—

toward the University of Sorcerers,

where the cursed magic continued to devour the light.

——————

In the shattered courtyard — caught between chaos and ruin —

Soran and Alexander continued their desperate struggle against Elishel,

their magic clashing violently through the air.

The ground beneath them was scorched, the walls cracked,

and the flow of mana around the university trembled with every strike.

They reached the central nexus —

the crossing point of the magical conduits that powered every barrier in the academy.

Then, a clear voice rang out from behind them:

Voice:

So… you’re the one behind all this chaos.

In an instant, a prison of violet light materialized,

forming a perfect square of shimmering energy that sealed Elishel inside.

The caster’s hand was unmistakable — Auren.

Only seconds later, Dansleif appeared from behind the debris,

his eyes cold, steady as ice.

Dansleif:

Well done, both of you.

Auren:

Did you deal with the warlock?

Dansleif:

He was one of Soldan’s tools…

more complex than I expected. It took time.

He raised his hand,

unleashing a web of spells that spiraled in multiple directions,

annihilating the remaining undead scattered across the university grounds.

When the dust settled, he lowered his staff,

his gaze turning toward the trembling figure in the glowing cage.

Dansleif:

So… what do we have here?

This girl… Elishel, is it?

Auren studied her closely —

and his expression changed, suddenly grave.

Auren:

This is bad. Very bad.

He immediately pulled out his communication stone, shouting into it:

Auren:

Lauma! Don’t bring Y! Don’t—!

But it was already too late.

The air before Elishel warped,

and beneath the shimmering gate that opened before her,

Y stepped out — calm, almost serene —

a faint smile on his face,

his eyes meeting hers.

The world fell silent.

Auren’s voice broke through the stillness, hoarse and heavy with dread:

Auren:

…We’re too late.

And in that instant—

Elishel’s laughter erupted, wild and broken,

a sound woven from pain, fury, and vengeance.

Elishel:

There it is again… that smile!

The barrier around her cracked like cursed glass,

shattering into a thousand fragments as black energy poured out,

devouring every trace of light in the courtyard.

Dansleif lifted his staff to strike—

but Y raised a hand gently, stopping him.

Y:

Let me try.

Everyone fell back,

leaving him standing alone in the middle of the ruined courtyard,

amid the rubble, the ash,

and the swirling darkness that rose from the earth itself.

The courtyard of the Sorcerers’ University boiled with darkness—

as if the very heart of the world pulsed with curses.

Eyes from every direction turned toward the same scene:

students, professors, guards…

even Dansleif, the King of Sorcerers himself.

All of them watched as Y stood in silence before a girl being consumed from within.

Dansleif raised a transparent barrier around them.

Dansleif:

No one interferes.

Elishel stepped forward, her voice trembling between agony and fury.

Elishel:

All of this… because of you.

Y (his tone calm, yet heavy with sorrow):

Elishel… stop.

You don’t understand what really happened.

She laughed bitterly, raising her hand —

a hand wreathed in fractured magic,

a swirling blend of light and shadow.

Elishel:

Oh, I understand.

You gave me this power—

and this power… will end you today!

The energy around her began to twist and surge,

a sight both beautiful and wrong —

like a lie told so well it begins to believe itself.

Y took a step closer,

his gaze fixed on the glowing black stone in her grasp.

Y:

You have no idea what you’re holding…

Elishel (screaming, desperate):

I’ll do what no one else could!

I’ll make my own happiness!

Elishel:

This time— I’ll be the one who wins!

At that decisive instant, Y moved.

His blade flashed,

and the stone shattered in her hand.

Light scattered through the air like faint embers.

Y (whispering):

It was… the only way.

Elishel froze, eyes wide,

then fell to her knees, pounding the ground,

her tears striking the dirt like rain.

Elishel (broken, screaming):

It’s all my fault?

Why do you want to see me suffer?

What did I ever do… to deserve this?

I hate you… I hate you… I hate you!

A single tear slid down her face,

falling onto the broken fragment of the stone.

And in that instant—

the black light pulsed again,

beating like a furious heart ready to explode.

⸻

The Explosion

The light erupted.

The entire university shook to its core.

A roar split the sky,

fire and ash swallowed the air.

The barrier shattered.

Everyone was thrown to the ground by the shockwave.

The heavens turned crimson.

Towers collapsed.

And then— silence.

A silence so heavy… it felt like the world itself had died.

When the smoke finally thinned,

Y sat amid the ruins,

his body bleeding, expression still,

his gaze fixed on the exact spot

where Elishel had stood before the blast.

The wind drifted softly through the ashes,

carrying the faint echo of a voice—

gentle, fading like a dream.

Elishel’s voice (whispering through the wind):

“All I ever wanted…

was a quiet life… with my friends.”

A sinister laugh spread through the ruins—

the twisted echo of Soldan, mingling with the sound of the wind and the crumbling earth,

as if the world itself was mocking everything left standing.

His voice slithered through the air, dripping with cruel delight:

Soldan (mocking):

“Luck favors me once again…

Tell me, what does your face look like now?

Is it sorrow I see? Or rage?

No matter— it’s time I witness despair in your eyes!”

But Y didn’t move.

He stood motionless — not broken, not defiant —

just still, rooted in a calm so absolute

that even the storm of the world could not disturb it.

His gaze drifted upward,

following the smoke-stained sky,

and within him echoed words not meant to be spoken —

only remembered,

only endured:

Keep going… even if you’re alone.

Keep going… even when you’re tired.

Keep going… even when you’re shattered.

Keep going… even when you’re different.

For to stop moving forward— is the only true defeat.

And in that moment—

figures began to emerge from the smoke and debris.

Molana, Klee, and Angela stumbled out of the haze,

their eyes wide, scanning the devastation that once was the university courtyard.

Molana (in disbelief):

“What was that explosion!?”

But no words came in answer—

only the earth’s response.

The ground behind them ruptured,

and the remains of a building exploded outward with a deafening crash.

From the dust rose a massive dragon,

its wings blotting out the clouds,

its chest glowing with a growing storm of destructive energy.

Marcus’ voice roared above the chaos:

Marcus:

“You fools!

If you can’t defeat me, you’ll never defeat my dragon!

Kill them all, my pet!”

The dragon’s jaw began to open,

a vortex of light and darkness spiraling within its maw,

power swelling until the air itself screamed.

It was preparing an attack strong enough

to erase half the university in one breath.

Molana (irritated, muttering):

“What an insufferable man—”

And then—

Y passed by her.

No words.

No aura of rage or exertion.

Just a flicker of blue—

a silent flash across the courtyard,

followed by a single, blinding spark.

In the blink of an eye—

the dragon’s head was severed cleanly from its body.

It fell slowly,

as though even gravity hesitated to disturb the moment.

The massive form crashed into the ground like a mountain losing its soul.

Silence.

Molana (hoarse whisper):

“Is… that Y?”

Klee (eyes wide, voice trembling):

“Yes… that’s him.”

Marcus (furious, denying what he saw):

“It doesn’t matter how many times you destroy it!

It will revive— it always revives!”

But what happened next defied all reason.

The dragon’s body began to dissolve —

its scales, wings, and bones fading into glowing dust,

as if Y’s strike hadn’t merely slain the creature,

but had cut through the magic itself that bound it to existence.

Lauma (awed):

“That’s… incredible.

He didn’t just kill the creature…

he severed the spell that sustained it.”

And as Y’s boots touched the ground again,

he moved once more —

no hesitation, no pause.

He became the wind—

and struck.

In a single motion, his blade flashed,

and Marcus collapsed,

felled before he could even comprehend what had happened.

Y stood where Elishel had once stood,

his gaze fixed on the hollow space amid the rubble,

a long, unbroken silence hanging in the air.

Then he turned toward Soldan, his voice calm—firm as steel.

Y:

“Soldan… just one question.

Do you feel any pity for her death?”

Soldan smiled — a cold, sick kind of smile —

and answered with a tone soaked in mockery.

Soldan:

“Pity? Hardly.

I’m pleased, actually…

though I’m a little disappointed I didn’t make better use of her.”

A brief stillness crossed Y’s face —

then his voice grew sharper, colder than silence itself.

Y:

“I’m glad you said that.

If you hadn’t been the one to end her life,

I might’ve carried an unforgivable guilt… when I end yours.”

He took a slow step forward, eyes locked on his enemy.

Y:

“I promise you this —

I’ll become your worst nightmare.

I’ll make you regret every life you’ve ever chained.”

Then, without hesitation, he reached toward the crystal core

that fueled Soldan’s magic—

and in one decisive motion,

he severed it.

The crystal shattered into shimmering fragments,

and the air around them trembled

as if the world itself had just exhaled a new decree.

Lauma approached him, worry shadowing her expression.

Lauma:

“Are you alright?”

Y turned his gaze away from the ruins, his tone quiet and distant.

Y:

“I’ll be fine… don’t worry.”

Moments later, Rose arrived, her steps quick and eyes scanning the wreckage.

Rose:

“Is everyone safe?”

Lauma:

“Yes… but Y—”

Before she could finish, Dansleif stepped forward,

his voice low and composed.

Dansleif:

“I’ll deal with the rest.”

Y:

“I’m coming with you.”

Rose and Lauma:

“So are we.”

Dansleif struck the ground with his staff.

Light rippled beneath their feet,

and in an instant, they were transported

to the peak of a towering mountain

overlooking a small kingdom

shrouded in dense, enchanted mist.

Dansleif:

“When I was fighting that warlock,

I traced the link to his master…

and now that I’ve found him—

it’s their turn.”

Y lifted his hand slightly.

Y:

“Wait.

Give me ten minutes.

There’s something I need to confirm.”

Without another word,

he leapt from the mountain,

descending swiftly toward the veiled kingdom below.

Lauma:

“Confirm what?”

Dansleif, eyes fixed on the horizon, murmured quietly:

Dansleif:

“This is the moment history changes…

The burden no one understands—

when kindness carries the weight of the world.”

Below, Y moved through the shadows with silent precision,

observing the cultists celebrating the destruction of the Sorcerers’ University.

Some knelt to the ground, whispering Soldan’s name as if invoking a forbidden power.

Lauma:

“What does he mean?”

Rose:

“He’s looking…

for someone good among them.”

But Y found none.

His eyes moved from house to house

until they fell upon a small child

sitting by a wall—

methodically cutting apart small animals

and eating them without a hint of emotion.

Y whispered softly,

his voice like a final verdict:

Y:

“…How unfortunate.”

Then he turned back toward Dansleif,

his face void of expression.

Dansleif:

“I’ll begin.”

Y stepped back, saying nothing.

Dansleif raised his hands to the sky,

and the clouds began to spiral,

forming a vast circle of light.

From its center descended a brilliant blue beam,

striking the earth below,

followed by a slow-falling shaft of white radiance

that blanketed the entire kingdom.

The cultists looked up,

bewildered, uncomprehending of their fate.

And when the light touched the ground—

the explosion came.

A soundless flash.

Then a deafening roar.

A white burst consumed the land,

erasing the kingdom in a single sweep.

When it ended—

nothing remained.

Only drifting ash carried by the wind,

and a gray sky…

that had long forgotten mercy.

—————-

One Hour Later

Y sat at the edge of the mountain, the wind threading softly through his hair as he gazed at the moon — a silent eye watching the world below.

Anna approached and took a seat beside him, her eyes carrying a mixture of worry and nostalgia.

Anna: “How are you feeling?”

Y smiled faintly.

Y: “I’m fine… though my body feels heavier than I thought.

Alex told me about Elishel’s story… Do you remember when I first met L?”

Anna: “L was imprisoned back then, right?”

Y nodded, his tone lowering as if he were recalling a distant memory.

Y: “It seems Elishel’s own companions were the ones who imprisoned her… tried to sell her.

When we escaped the dungeon, she was watching us.

Later, I was the one who reported the fire and the bodies — and in her story, that made me the killer.

Somewhere along the way, she met Soldan… the true reason her friends disappeared.

But to her, he was the hero… and I was the villain.

And so her story ended — with her death.”

A short silence fell before Anna spoke again, her voice gentle yet filled with certainty.

Anna: “You did nothing wrong.”

Suddenly, Y felt a small hand touch his back.

He turned slightly, smiling.

Y: “Diona… right?”

Diona and Ash stood behind him, holding a bouquet of small white flowers.

They stepped closer and placed it gently atop his head, their smiles innocent and warm.

Ash: “Just as I thought… it suits him perfectly.”

Diona: “Yes, it’s really beautiful!”

Ash chuckled softly and looked toward Anna.

Ash: “What do you think, Anna?”

Anna: “It’s lovely… and it truly suits him.”

Ash laughed lightly, then turned toward Lunaria.

Ash: “Lunaria, your turn!”

Lunaria (bashfully): “I… feel a little embarrassed doing this in front of everyone…”

Ash: “It’s just a flower!”

Lunaria stepped forward hesitantly and placed a small white blossom near Y’s shoulder, her gaze turned away.

Y smiled — a clear, gentle smile.

Y: “Strange… my body suddenly feels lighter. Thank you, all of you.”

They exchanged glances, their expressions soft and genuine, and spoke as one — their voices quiet but sincere.

All: “Thank you too… Y.”

The moon climbed higher, its light mingling with the whisper of the wind —

as if the night itself smiled at last, in peace long delayed.