10th of Carnsmoon:
Paradise—specifically Urbus Rigarden—was alive with noise and movement that morning. Carriages clattered down cobbled streets, messengers weaved through the crowds, and shopkeepers barked prices from open stalls.
But none of it mattered.
Everyone, from the Rhizanth nobles sipping imported tea in marble courtyards to soot-stained dwarves in Slumland alleys, had their heads buried in the same thing.
The newspaper.
More precisely, the front page.
The crowning of Yuno Solphis Grinberryall.
And the fall of Elfaria Serfort.
The now former Albis Vina.
The once-unshakable genius etched into the mage calendar.
Since her arrival at the tower six years prior, Elfaria's name had become legendary. Every year brought new headlines, new accolades.
The youngest Magia Vander in recorded history.
The first to breach the invisible wall of eleven and birth a twelfth spell.
The youngest human to ever invent a spell—period.
The world whispered her name like it belonged to a divine tale. There were even rumors—half-jokes, half-wishes—that she was Mercedes reborn, Heaven's saintess returned to prevent yet another apocalypse.
She was untouchable. Unblemished. Worshipped.
And now?
Now she'd lost.
To him.
To the Wind Chief—Yuno Solphis—an unassuming ascendant many outside the capital had barely heard of.
That couldn't be right... could it?
Yet the article implied it hadn't even been that close. No grand duel. No divine spectacle.
Just an almost casual dethronement.
A line. A headline.
And that was it.
Far from the buzz of Rigarden, in a sleepy village nestled between rivers, hills, and trees, a certain foster father running a cramped orphanage tightened his grip on the parchment. His eyes scanned the ink again. And again.
No mistake.
"Elfaria…" He whispered.
Still rattled, many readers flipped to the second article—only to freeze again.
A new faction?
The Water Faction has been officially founded, led by none other than... Noelle Silva.
The dwarves blinked.
Was that a typo?
Noelle?
The newlywed? The soft-spoken mother who ran errands in town while cradling a baby in one arm?
Now a faction chief?
Donnan spat out his morning booze.
"So that's what Mr. Elf had me building..." he muttered, wiping his beard with his arm. "Wasn't for him. Wasn't for the Big Guy. But for her."
Back in Rigarden, the buzz only grew louder.
For students at the academy who had given up on the tower, hope sparked anew.
An entire faction had just opened its doors.
Empty seats. Untested leaders. A fresh hierarchy waiting to be shaped.
If they stood out—this year—they might just catch someone's eye.
But it was only a slight buzz.
For many outside the walls of the tower, the excitement around the Water Faction was more muted.
It wasn't one of the Big Four.
It wasn't glamorous.
It smelled like the Earth Faction—old, underfunded, and desperate for recruits. A faction once respected, now a ghost of its former self, limping along with barely half a dozen old men.
No one wanted to join the fading.
They wanted prestige.
They wanted Solphis Neamhain, the faction of the new supreme.
But down in the first stratum of the tower, deep in the halls where the Colorless studied and lived, the story was different.
For many of them, it felt like the past repeating.
Years ago, they had skipped earth magic in favor of flashier elements—thinking it was a dead end. That even if the Earth Faction had doors wide open, they'd never get good enough to be worth joining.
But water?
Water, they knew.
Ice magic had been their focus once. In pursuit of Albis Vina, many had honed their spells to the point of mastery.
And ice was just a sub-element.
Water, in their hands, wasn't just feasible—it was familiar.
Now they had a chance.
A real one.
And unlike the nobles and the flashy prodigies who suddenly worshipped Solphis Neamhain, these mages didn't care about glory.
Not anymore.
They just wanted in.
— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —
First Stratum — Water Faction:
The miniature silver-and-blue castle that served as the Water Faction's new base was unusually busy this morning.
Loud chatter echoed from the common room, bouncing off the polished walls and high ceilings.
"Argenta, here, have some coffee!"
"Hivernelle, are your legs sore? Let me give you a massage!"
"Hey Argenta, I never bullied you before, remember? I always liked you. We're basically friends."
"Tch. Friends? Please. Everyone knows Argenta and I go way back."
"Oh really? Back where?"
"...You know. Uh... Terralis?"
"Hah! Argenta's from Samios, you idiot."
"W-What?! Really?!"
"Ha! Look at this clown!"
"What a poser!"
"So embarrassing!"
"S-Shut up! L-Like you guys can talk!"
"Ignore this guy, Argenta. Let's go get some coffee—just like old times."
"Stop bothering her! She's coming with me!"
"No, me!"
Kezōkaku Ginnojōmorifuyu stood motionless in the center of it all, blinking for the umpteenth time.
She was surrounded.
And thoroughly confused.
Friend? Since when was I friends with you?
Coffee? When have I ever had coffee with anyone here?
How do you even know I'm from Samios? Did you... go through my file?
Her vision swam.
It felt like a thousand voices clawed at her from all sides, each trying to sound familiar. Friendly. Harmless.
They weren't.
She clutched the disguised hilt of her katana tighter. It looked like a wand, but her fingers knew better.
This was too much.
Too loud. Too close. Too fake.
A shady-looking girl with coral-colored hair reached out and placed a hand on her shoulder.
"Hey Argenta. For old times' sake, can you put in a word for me with... Mrs. Silva?"
Kezōkaku froze.
A shiver ran down her spine.
She didn't like this.
She didn't want to talk. Didn't want to be touched. She was very close to drawing her blade and letting the other side of her deal with it.
Her fingers twitched toward the hilt—but then someone stepped between her and the world.
"Alright," said a calm, familiar voice. "Let's give Argenta some space, shall we?"
Kezōkaku's eyes widened.
Fumito!
Tears stung the corners of her eyes.
The Colorless paused, glancing at one another. Then, as if on cue, they shifted into fake smiles and apologetic tones.
"Hah hah, sorry about that, Théo!"
"It won't happen again, Coqus. Promise."
"Yeah, what he said."
Fumito Mikuriya smiled back, perfectly pleasant, and gestured to the doorway.
"It's a bit crowded in here," he said, tone light. "I can understand your excitement, but why don't we head outside to the courtyard?"
He nodded toward the hallway.
"I'll do some light interviews there, alright?"
"Interviews?" someone repeated, confused.
The same coral-haired girl tilted her head.
"Um... Théo, where is Mrs. Silva?"
"She's currently out," Fumito replied, still smiling. "And likely won't be back until tonight."
A ripple of frowns passed through the group, but he continued smoothly.
"However, she anticipated your arrival and gave me full permission to evaluate all applicants. I'll be reporting directly to her... and I may even admit you myself, if I so choose. Is that acceptable?"
Instantly, the Colorless snapped back into their polished façades.
"Of course!"
"Why didn't you say so earlier?"
"You don't have to explain anything to us!"
Just like they had with Kezōkaku moments ago, they now mobbed Fumito—flattering him, sucking up, offering subtle bribes, all while pretending not to.
Fumito remained all smiles.
Unfazed.
Effortlessly dodging their ploys, meeting every offer with vague pleasantries and infuriating innocence.
The door closed behind them.
Kezōkaku Ginnojōmorifuyu slumped onto the couch and groaned.
"I'm not even safe here. Maybe I should just stay in my room and become a hermit..."
"I can't believe I have a master like you," came a familiar voice with a small snort.
She looked up.
Asta stood in the doorway, holding Nigel in one arm. The baby gnawed contentedly on a shiny magic stone that just yesterday still belonged to Yuno.
Kezōkaku let out a pitiful, theatrical sob.
"D-Don't say that! Killing is easy! No one judges you when they're dead... but talking to people? What if they tell others about you? What if it spreads? Then it's just... a mess!"
Asta stared at her, unimpressed.
Nigel blinked up at the ronin with round, curious eyes.
Then he turned to his father.
"Ma!"
Asta shook his head. "Mama isn't here right now. You're stuck with Dada for the day."
"Ma!" Nigel cried, slapping Asta's cheek with a pudgy hand. "Ma!"
Unfazed, Asta turned around and began walking deeper into the castle.
"Nope. Just Nigel and Dada today. Time for your bath."
"Bah-un!"
Kezōkaku stared after them blankly, eyes following the squirming infant as he vanished from view.
She sighed.
Well... having a cute baby around isn't so bad.
Maybe I can stay busy by playing with him instead.
— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —
Second Stratum — Earth Faction:
"Yesss! At long last, our prayers have been answered!"
The roar of jubilant voices echoed through the earth-shaped palace halls.
Colette shivered.
Her face flushed crimson as the weight of the ornate royal dress clung to her curves, hugging in all the wrong places. A heavy crown pressed into her scalp like a cursed relic, dragging her neck forward with invisible pressure.
What is happening right now? she screamed internally, eyes darting across the throne room.
The throne beneath her felt less like a seat of honor and more like a trap. Too high. Too regal. Too real.
Below her, six elderly robed men and one bald, round monk bounced on their heels like children in a candy store.
"Earth magic is scarce in the tower," announced Fuluun Audeited, an elder with cracked knuckles and twinkling eyes. "And as you can see, with all these old geezers around, we lack a certain feminine touch."
Next to him, Hammond Fossilis nodded vigorously. "We've been rolling downhill for twenty years. But no longer! Now we've got a young lady among us!"
"Better yet," added Worganz Prehnite with a grin, "she's got the blood of a Magia Vander in her veins!"
"Our time is now! Raah!" the six elders shouted in perfect unison, throwing their hands in the air like cultists mid-ritual.
Ōoka Daizaemon—unofficial chief, monk, and walking disaster—clasped his palms together in prayer as his cheeks flushed pink and a thin trickle of blood ran from his nose.
"You mean two girls!" he cried. "I-I usually prefer a little more skin, but when everything's left to the imagination—that's a whole different kind of thrill!"
Steam billowed from his nostrils as he vibrated with joy.
Colette and Rose both flinched as the monk wiped his bleeding nose, still grinning like a drunken fool.
"O-Oh Buddha forgive me… I try to resist these mortal temptations… but it's so hard!"
Worganz wiped his forehead with a visible sigh.
"As usual, I have no idea what you're talking about, Hagens…" he muttered. Then his eyes turned upward—toward the throne.
More accurately, toward the girl seated beside the throne.
"But you're right," he added, blowing a kiss into the air. "Mwah! Rose, my dear granddaughter! Thank you for guiding this beautiful gem to us!"
Pcht!
Rose slapped the air dismissively, face pale with disgust.
"I didn't guide her to anything, Grandpa. She made the decision to enter the tower herself. And please spare us the creepy kisses."
Colette turned toward her friend, eyes wide and trembling.
"W-What in Paradise is going on here, Rose?!"
Rose forced a shaky smile, jaw tight.
"They... expect great things from you! You're their Colette! Their earth princess! Their hope!"
She exhaled quietly, a whisper only she could hear.
This is what I was trying to protect you from. I bet you're thankful to me now.
Colette slowly turned back toward the cheering, sweaty assembly of old men.
Her expression sagged into a pale grimace.
Forget being a spy... I feel more like I accidentally founded a weird religion.
— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —
Second Stratum — Dark Faction:
As usual, it began like a pattern.
The moment the faction's daily meeting ended, Mike Maius darted after Edward Serfence down the hallway like a loyal hound.
Angie followed silently, saying nothing.
One by one, the rest of the dark mages filed out, trailing behind them with murmured chatter and quiet footsteps.
Within moments, only three remained in the grand obsidian room.
At the head of the table, Walther slowly turned to his right.
To his immediate left, Morta mirrored the motion, her eyes narrowing toward the same spot.
Their gaze met its mark.
The target smiled—softly, vaguely, like the flame on a candle dancing in a draft.
"What?"
Morta ran her tongue across her rose-colored lips.
"That was quite something you pulled off yesterday," she said smoothly. "Putting the little Ice Maiden in her place."
The man gave a small shake of his head.
"It was nothing," he replied. "She was already injured. Running on fumes. Anyone could've done it."
"Ah, but it wasn't just anyone," Walther hissed, his tongue darting over cracked lips as if tasting the air. "Even near death, she's more than most High Mages can handle. That wasn't a small feat, Morgen. Or should I say... Nacht?"
Morgen's eyes thinned.
"I've told you both," he said calmly, "use Morgen when we're in the tower."
Walther gave a shrug, shoulders rising like a snake uncoiling.
"It's just us here."
"You never know who's listening."
Morta clicked her tongue, annoyed.
"Does it really matter?" she asked. "What's the point of having two names if you don't even bother to disguise your face? Hood or not, anyone who's seen you once would know you again."
Morgen smiled gently.
"True. But not everyone knows both names. Some only know me as Nacht. Others, only as Morgen. And if someone hears the wrong one in the wrong place... with the Tower's undeniable competence, they'll put the pieces together."
He paused, expression still serene.
"And that means I get outed. Fast."
Morta let out a low chuckle.
"But you are a traitor."
Morgen laughed with her.
"As are you. But we're not exactly advertising that yet, are we?"
He leaned back in his seat.
"Nacht works in the shadows, for Gohtia. Morgen walks in the light, for the Tower. That's how I want it. So please—respect the boundary."
Walther smirked.
"There isn't much light in this faction. But fine."
His grin widened.
"You're quite the romanticist, aren't you... Morgen?"
Morgen beamed in response.
Morta licked her lips again, eyes sharp.
"What's with that name anyway? Just a random alias?"
Morgen's expression shifted.
Softened.
His smile turned pensive, a touch distant.
"You could say it belongs to someone special to me," he said quietly. "So I'd prefer not to mix it up. Please and thank you."
A flicker of something crossed Morta's gaze.
Intrigue.
And jealousy.
"Special to you?" she asked, keeping her voice casual. "How special?"
Morgen's eyes curved like a crescent moon.
"Doesn't concern you."
Morta scoffed and leaned back in her chair.
"Sure."
It's not like it's some woman, she muttered inwardly, flicking her hair aside with mock indifference.
She tilted her head.
"Still... what was that spell? I've never seen anything like it."
Morgen shook his head.
"We all have our secrets," he said. "Let's keep it that way."
Walther chuckled.
"I don't know about us. But you certainly do."
His gaze dipped—deliberately—toward the shadow at Morgen's feet.
A shadow that sometimes moved when it shouldn't.
Hints. Echoes. Unnatural ripples that raised questions Gohtia hadn't yet answered.
Rumors floated.
That sometimes, he didn't even use Dark Magic at all.
Just like Shade and Headless, Morgen—Nacht—was unreadable. A phantom in plain sight.
But unlike those two monsters, he carried himself with charm. Class. A well-cut coat and courteous smile.
And somehow, that made him even more dangerous.
— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —
Second Stratum – Ice Faction:
"Lady Elfaria?" Sarissa tried again.
"Mmmm."
Elfaria didn't move.
As she had since her defeat, she lay slumped on the couch like a gutted fish—brooding, limp, and barely alive in spirit.
Her eyes stared blankly into the distance. Her heart might as well have left with her pride.
Jhorua, Lunais, and Mimily exchanged uneasy glances.
They'd been standing here for half an hour, waiting—hoping—for their chief to acknowledge them. To give them their first orders. It was an Ice Faction tradition.
But the girl just continued to sulk.
Disappointment bloomed in their chests, bitter and heavy.
Was this really Albis Vina?
This… pitiful, lazy thing?
They had idolized her for six long years at the academy. Read about her exploits. Dreamed of fighting under her banner.
Even in defeat, the Ice Faction stood by her, vowing to help her reclaim her seat.
But since then?
She had become a shadow of her legend. A sullen, silent burden.
One that needed to be carried out of the third stratum like common luggage.
It was embarrassing.
It insulted the loyalty they were told to uphold.
It mocked their resolve.
The disconnect was jarring.
Especially for these three.
They hadn't fought beside her. Hadn't seen her in action.
Their admiration came second-hand—scraps of stories, rumors, headlines.
Nothing concrete. Nothing earned.
And now? That shaky admiration was crumbling.
Faith was slipping into doubt.
Doubt into certainty.
A certainty that maybe she wasn't worth following.
Jhorua and Lunais clenched their fists, bitterness simmering.
They both inwardly debated going to Julius—seeing if he could help them transfer to the Water Faction too.
And honestly? They respected him more for doing just that. For seeing the writing on the wall and jumping ship before it sank.
Mimily didn't feel much better.
She had no grand ambitions.
No desire for glory or legacy.
She had become a mage for one reason: money.
Money to feed and care for her younger siblings—the only people in the world she truly adored.
Now, with the Ice Faction's budget and wages slashed after Elfaria's defeat, she wasn't sure how much longer she could afford to be "loyal."
And Elfaria—this hollowed-out mess—wasn't helping.
Mimily, too, was eyeing the Water Faction.
Let them call her a traitor if they wanted.
As long as her siblings had food, shelter, and the toys and opportunities any child should, the rest was just noise.
Sarissa could read the doubts on their faces. Every line of it. Every ounce of disillusionment.
She forced a brittle smile, her hands trembling slightly as she gestured toward the door.
"F-for now… get yourselves more familiar with the faction and your squadmates. I'm sure Lady Elfaria will have something for you soon."
The recruits didn't believe her. Not really.
But they bowed out of courtesy, and followed Sarissa toward the exit.
The door shut behind them with a soft thunk.
Sarissa stood still for a moment. Then slowly turned back toward the couch.
Her eyes burned, her lips pulled tight.
And she glared at her beloved leader with the kind of scowl that could pierce ice itself.
She stomped forward with a hiss.
"Get up, Lady Elfaria!"
"Mmm…" Elfaria rolled over, her vacant eyes unfocused as she stared at the ceiling.
She parted her dried lips. Her face was streaked with the remnants of last night's tears.
"What's the point… without Will?"
Sarissa twitched. Then something snapped.
She raised her hand high and brought it down with a venomous frown.
TWACK!
For a moment, silence.
Elfaria held the side of her face in shock. Sarissa trembled, disbelieving what she'd just done.
The adjutant's arms fell to her side, sweating slightly, while Elfaria sat up—stunned, indignant, disbelieving.
"DID YOU JUST SLAP ME?!"
Sarissa gulped. Her legs trembled before she nodded, then steeled her expression.
"Oh? So you're not dead. Funny. I couldn't tell."
If that was a joke, Elfaria didn't laugh.
"SARISSA?!"
The former Albis Vina candidate snapped back just as loud.
"WHAT?!" She pointed at the door, grateful for soundproof walls.
"Can't you see you're losing them?! All of them! I let you mope and brood all night! Now snap out of it! You have a faction to lead!"
Elfaria iced her cheek with a soft burst of magic. Her eyes narrowed.
"Like I care?! Will is—"
"ENOUGH ABOUT WILL!"
Sarissa growled. Her glasses shook.
Elfaria flinched, stunned.
Sarissa jabbed a finger at her.
"When it comes to you, it's always that boy! Doesn't anything else matter to you?! This faction?! Your subordinates?! Me?!"
Elfaria shivered. She hung her head and chewed her lip.
"T-that's not fair…"
"God!" Sarissa fumed. "What's not fair is you leaving us dry like this! After your defeat! While you're the one who's supposed to take responsibility and lead—"
"SHUT UP!"
Elfaria cut her off, face flushed with anger, humiliation, heartbreak.
Sarissa stiffened.
Tears welled in her former Vander's eyes.
Elfaria jabbed a finger at her.
"Don't put this on me! When it's all your fault!"
Sarissa blinked. "My fault…?"
Elfaria crossed her arms and snorted.
"Yes, you! If not you, then who?!"
Sarissa blinked again. "W-what do you mean—?"
"Hah!" Elfaria laughed like it was the funniest thing she'd heard.
"This whole mess happened because you wouldn't let me scout Will!"
Sarissa stiffened.
"Zeo didn't want him at the First Bloom! Yuno wasn't even there! If you'd just let me put Kreutz in his place and take him, I would've had Will! I'd still be a Vander!"
Sarissa shook her head, voice trembling. "N-no, Kreutz wouldn't let you—"
"What Kreutz wanted didn't matter!" Elfaria screamed.
"I was a Vander! My authority outweighed his any day! I could've shut him down, but I humored him and Cariott out of respect for your wishes! To not distress you! To avoid 'trouble'! And now look! I've lost everything!Because of you!"
Sarissa froze.
She couldn't believe it.
Her leader… her beloved leader… was actually blaming her?
The Ice Faction adjutant clenched her jaw.
"How dare you?"
Elfaria's brow furrowed. Sarissa sneered.
"Everything I do is for you! For this faction! We would've become a target if you made a power move like that! I already explained this!"
Her voice cracked with rising fury.
"I never let you conscript Will before for the same reason! And yet you blame me?! In the end, this happened because you lost! Because you were weaker!"
Elfaria gritted her teeth.
"Everyone seems to be weaker than that freak! No one could be sure he'd challenge me—not if it happened outside that bet or under different conditions!"
"Are you daft?!" Sarissa spat. "Light magic is an absolute must for the barrier! No ascendants may challenge Masterias Noah!"
She took a breath.
"Things aren't any different with Elleaf Cannan—not if we want the elves on our side! And Incindia Barham isn't much different! Lord Cariott acts as Lord Aaron's proxy!"
She adjusted her glasses.
"If you could be bothered to see reason, you'd realize only you or Lord Zeo were viable targets. You're the leader of the lowest-ranked major faction!"
Her voice darkened.
"And Lord Yuno—before his scuffle with Thorzeus Fasce—already said you sullied the throne. Something, I find myself agreeing with! He was always going to challenge you! Zeo just got dragged in!"
Elfaria blanked, struggling to find a response.
Sarissa didn't give her a chance, hurling insults one after the other.
"You were always the least of the Vander!"
"Sure, you were the greatest talent, but you were useless! Lazy and uncooperative, contributing nothing but powering the barrier!"
"Aaron explores the dungeon. Cariott manages the tower. Ellenor keeps the elves in line. Zeo trains his subordinates. But what do you do?!"
Elfaria's eyes widened. She clenched her fist.
"My spells—"
"Even all your spells were made for the sake of that boy, and your pathetic love! Not for the magical world—!"
"Shut up!"
Krrk!
That was the final straw.
Ice and frost exploded from Elfaria, coating the already frozen room.
Sarissa flinched and shivered. Sweat trickled down her face, but she held her ground with a shaky, manic, and sarcastic grin.
"O-oh, so you're going to kill me the moment I say something you don't like? Color me surprised."
Elfaria's hair fluttered.
"Silence! I won't have you mocking my relationship with Will! It's beautiful! Something you annoying pests always want to deny me!"
"Beautiful? Deny you?!" Sarissa laughed. "You think you're the only one who's lost their love? I was engaged, remember? We all make sacrifices to protect this world! Why can't you understand that, you pubescent child!"
"Gah!" Elfaria clawed at her scalp. "Unbelievable! You're acting like I haven't cooperated with you—for six whole years! You caged me to this tower and used me like a goddamn battery! I've made sacrifices too!"
"Like what?!"
"Like staying away from Will—"
"Again with him?!" Sarissa barked. Ice clung to her face, making her shiver.
Elfaria snorted and pulled her magic back.
Her adjutant sighed, then glared darkly.
"Rosti Nauman!"
Elfaria froze. "Huh?"
Sarissa growled in frustration.
"You think you could sneak out a clone, forge an entire identity, and place it next to the boy you've been pining over for six years—and expect me not to notice? Not to investigate?!"
Elfaria clenched her fist.
"S-so? What of it!"
Sarissa jabbed a finger toward her.
"That wasn't a normal Ars Weiss! That was a thinking, feeling clone of blood and flesh! Almost a person of its own! Managing that every second of every day, every year—it's no simple feat! That takes magic and concentration! Magic that puts the Great Barrier at risk!"
Elfaria's eyes widened.
Sarissa straightened slowly, her voice low and bitter.
"That's why I took on almost all your duties. To lighten your load. When I should've just reported it to Masterias Noah and forced you to cancel the spell."
Elfaria gulped.
"S-so why didn't you?"
"BECAUSE YOU'RE PRECIOUS TO ME!"
The shout hit like a slap.
Elfaria flinched.
Sarissa didn't stop.
"I served Mistress Yulvar before you. I know being a Vander is no fun. So I let you have that little joy in your life. So don't you dare act like I do nothing for you!"
Elfaria's fist trembled.
"H-how am I supposed to know if you don't tell me?!"
"You're not!" Sarissa snapped. "But don't make accusations without evidence, you worthless leader!"
"STOP CALLING ME WORTHLESS!" Elfaria screamed. "The reason I'm Albis Vina is because you are worthless! Because you couldn't cut it!"
Sarissa froze.
A flicker of hurt passed through her eyes.
Elfaria hesitated. Regret crept in—then she buried it.
"Hah! You can dish it out, but you can't take it? Who's the child now?"
Sarissa forced out a bitter laugh, her gaze trailing the floor.
"Forget it. It's better things turned out like this anyway."
Elfaria nearly vomited blood.
"How can this possibly be better?!"
Sarissa donned an indifferent expression and adjusted her glasses.
"You're not a Vander anymore. You'll have more freedom now. Freedom to leave or roam the tower every now and then and even see the boy. Be grateful."
"GRATEFUL?!" Elfaria shouted.
"I almost died, Sarissa! And my promise to Will, to be Vanders together, is broken as well—"
"Good." Sarissa cut her off with a dark, mildly disgusted frown.
"If you wish to be a Vander for some childhood love and not to protect this world, you are anything but worthy."
Elfaria clenched her fists.
"Take that back! Maybe seeing the sunset with him is my first priority, but I will still protect this world, just like I've been doing for the past six years! We all have something we treasure personally. There's nothing wrong with that! So take it back!"
Sarissa remained unmoved.
"No. You are unworthy."
She repeated herself with a dark frown.
"You have sullied the title Magia Vander, as well as Albis Vina. Honestly, the boy's talents and potential would be wasted under you. You'd probably keep him locked in your room with your filthy memorabilia and merchandise."
Elfaria ground her teeth.
"You're really pushing my patience today."
Sarissa sneered.
"And you've tested mine for the past six years."
Twack.
She dropped her paperwork onto Elfaria's lap.
"Do your own papers from now on. Rosti is dead, so no more excuses."
Elfaria set it aside with a dark smile.
"No. You'll be doing it."
Sarissa raised a brow, frowning.
"Is that an order? An abuse of power?"
Elfaria sneered.
"No. It's matter-of-fact. Because you owe me, Sarissa."
Sarissa's brow furrowed.
"What do you mean?"
"You heard me."
Elfaria's smile sharpened.
"You owe me everything."
The former Albis Vina reclined on her couch.
"First off, I filled Yulvar's void after her death. I maintained the barrier while you couldn't."
Sarissa stiffened. Elfaria's smile turned venomous.
"More than that—maybe I'm important to you. But do you really think you're important to me?"
Sarissa's pupils dilated.
"Huh?"
Elfaria's grin deepened.
"You think we're friends, Sarissa?"
Wait, what am I saying?! Shut up!
Elfaria's heart trembled.
She saw the shock deepen on her adjutant's face, but couldn't stop herself.
Nor the dark thoughts she'd harbored for six long years.
It was like something pulling her open.
A mystical, malevolent force that yanked the poison from her soul and spoke it aloud.
"At the end of the day, you're nothing more than my abductor, Sarissa. A shameless woman who didn't even protest when that bastard Evan forced me into this tower. You let it happen because you needed someone to take the fall for you. Someone to inherit the burden you couldn't handle yourself."
Sarissa's mouth quivered. Her eyes turned red.
Elfaria grimaced, inwardly.
Shut up, Elfaria! Shut up! You don't mean this!
But she carried on.
"You put everything on me! I was a ten-year-old girl from the countryside who had just started school and you whisked me away! And now you want me to be grateful?! For caging me in this prison during my youth?! For obstructing me from being with the person I loved at every turn?! Are you insane?!"
W-wait. I don't mean this… Stop! Stop! What's happening?!
But unwilling, Elfaria continued.
"You used me to cover your own incompetence for six years. You think this faction still runs because of you? The weakest adjutant? Not even an ascendant?! Don't kid yourself. The Ice Faction didn't just avoid decline—it prospered because of me! And now you have the gall to take credit for my work?! Audacious!"
The light faded from Sarissa's eyes.
Elfaria finished with a menacing sneer.
"You're a thief. Nothing but a poser. So keep posing. And do the damn paperwork, because that's all you're good for. Okay?!"
Sarissa's face was blank.
A single tear slid down her cheek. She wiped it away—stiff, robotic, like a machine.
"Y-yes, my lady."
She picked up the papers with trembling fingers and hesitated.
"M-may I be excused for breakfast first?"
Elfaria snorted.
"Don't dally for long."
Sarissa nodded and hurried out, murmuring low and bitter.
"S-so that's how you see me…"
Bam.
The door swung shut behind her.
Elfaria was alone.
She broke into a cold sweat and trembled.
"W-what just happened?!"
Tears pricked her eyes.
"I-I didn't mean to say that… n-not any of that! W-what's going on?!"
She felt spooked.
She felt creeped out.
She felt scared.
She felt disturbed.
She felt sick.
So very sick.
— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —
Third Stratum — Wind Faction:
"Hahh…" Yuno exhaled a long, weary breath as he scrawled his name onto yet another sheet of parchment.
Barely a day into his new role as Vander, and the paperwork had already begun to pile like a mountain determined to crush his spirit. Triple the usual load, and that was apparently light for a major faction.
So this was the cost of the throne.
The boy genius of the wind, hailed as a prodigy in battle and brains alike, already found himself questioning his choices. Still, he didn't stop. Couldn't stop. He had responsibilities now—more than ever.
Across from him, his adjutant stood with arms politely tucked behind his back, watching with a quiet, wry amusement. But then his eyes twitched. He blinked once. Then again.
"…Sir?"
Yuno paused mid-stroke, brow lifting as he looked up. "Hm? What is it, Arvin?"
The aide-de-camp of Solphis Neamahin hesitated, then motioned toward Yuno's collarbone.
"…Your pendant. It's missing."
Yuno blinked in surprise, then glanced down at his own chest.
Indeed, the familiar weight was gone. The chain was no longer tucked under his shirt, the glint of the small crystal absent. His collarbone felt oddly bare.
Arvin couldn't hide his curiosity. That pendant had been with Yuno for as long as he'd known him—always there, always constant. More than an accessory, it had felt part of him. Much like how Zeo's thunder necklace had become synonymous with his persona.
Something that precious, vanishing overnight? It unsettled him.
Yuno clicked his tongue quietly and leaned back in his chair. For a moment, he seemed to weigh how much to say. Then he sighed, as if brushing off the thought, and returned to his paperwork.
"Nowhere," he murmured. "I gave it to someone. To hold onto."
Arvin froze. His eyes subtly widened.
He gave it away?
To someone? Who?
A friend? A lover?
A hundred questions stirred in the back of Arvin's mind, and none of them had answers. Still, it made a strange kind of sense. Yuno had become a Vander. He was the newest crown jewel of the Magical World.
Offers would be flooding in by the dozens, from every noble house aligned with air and sky. Marriage proposals, adoption requests, familial alliances—each one a thinly veiled power grab.
And yet, Yuno had already given his pendant away?
Arvin began to gather the completed forms, eyes scanning the headers. Sure enough, several bore the crests of wind-noble clans. More than one mentioned daughters of eligible age.
He smirked slightly, sorting the papers with practiced ease.
Then Yuno stopped writing.
His hand hovered, pen trembling slightly before he placed it down. His golden eyes lifted again—this time narrowed in confusion.
"…Arvin," he said. "Where's Monica?"
The question hit like a pin dropped into silence.
"Monica?" Arvin blinked. "She's—"
He stopped.
A strange tension gripped his head. His breath hitched. A mild throb bloomed behind his eyes.
"...Huh?"
Why couldn't he remember?
He clenched his temple, trying to push through the sudden haze.
"Where's… Monica?" he muttered to himself, face paling. "Why can't I remember where she went?"
Sweat prickled down his temple. His chest tightened.
Yuno stood without a word. He didn't bother asking again.
Instead, his eyes darkened, and a soft ethereal current spiraled to life around his fingers—green and glowing, thrumming with the magic of wind. But a more fanatical wind.
An illusionary wind.
He raised his arm, slowly, deliberately.
Then—Fwoom.
A gentle gust swept through the chamber as he extended his hand toward Arvin's forehead, the soft glow spilling out like a tide.
Something was wrong.
And whatever it was—it had already touched more than just memory.
Yuno sighed.
It seems I've been too complacent these days.
— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —
First Stratum – Colorless Garden:
Sarissa trudged through the streets, eyes blank, tuning out the whispers and stares.
She needed somewhere quiet. Somewhere she could sit. Maybe even clear her mind.
She felt empty.
She felt betrayed.
She felt humiliated.
She wanted to run.
Run from her duties.
From her faction. From the Tower.
To a place where she could forget everything about this graveyard of wands and start fresh.
Maybe back to him. The man who had stolen her heart.
But she knew she couldn't.
He had given her his, and she returned it in broken pieces—for that same duty.
She had no right to crawl back.
He might've moved on by now.
She had no love.
And the passion she'd once felt for her faction had vanished in the span of minutes.
Tears welled behind her eyes.
"Sarissa?"
A soft voice made her pause.
She turned, blinking through the haze.
"Monica?"
The petite woman, her hair tucked under a beret, clutched a paper bag to her chest and nodded.
"Yes, it's me."
Then she gently touched Sarissa's arm, her eyes full of concern.
"Are you alright? Did something happen?"
Sarissa hesitated.
They weren't close. Not enemies, just... distant colleagues.
Monica seemed to realize this and quickly withdrew her hand, looking sheepish.
"S-sorry, that was insensitive of me. Especially after yesterday."
Sarissa waved her off just as awkwardly.
"N-no, no. It's fine. A-and Great Mage Yuno won fair and square."
Monica frowned. "Are you sure? After all Arvin tried to—"
"H-he was just making sure we followed the rules," Sarissa interrupted, her chuckle thin and forced. "No harm done. Really."
Monica let out a quiet breath of relief.
Sarissa offered a weak smile. "A-and thank you for asking."
"No problem." Monica nodded politely.
Silence lingered between them.
Sarissa scratched her cheek, then cleared her throat. "U-um, what are you doing down here?"
Monica brightened. "O-oh, just an errand run for my boss and the others."
She opened the paper bag to reveal an assortment of donuts and bagels.
Sarissa blinked. "You're doing this?"
It surprised her.
Why would a number three handle this kind of grunt work?
That was what newbies were for.
Monica's smile tightened. "I-I just know all their favorites. And I like doing it. Makes me feel useful."
Sarissa's guilt twisted deeper. "I-I see. Sorry."
"No harm done." Monica waved it off. Then glanced up curiously. "So? What're you doing down here?"
"S-same as you," Sarissa lied, smiling thinly. "My Vand-leader runs me dry, so I'm grabbing coffee. For her. And me."
Monica lit up. "Oh, perfect! I was going to get Great Mage Yuno his morning brew! Mind if I come with you?!"
Sarissa flinched.
Monica's excitement faded.
"O-only if you're okay with it, I mean."
Dammit. Why am I being such a jerk today? This isn't who I am.
She smiled again. This time, it reached her eyes. "No! Not at all. Let's go together."
"Great!" Monica grinned, victorious. "Let's get going—"
"Mind if I join you?!"
A familiar, cheerful voice made both women whirl around.
"Creirwy?" they said in unison.
The witch grinned as she twirled her broom and patted her stomach.
It growled softly as she winked. Grgrghh.
"Skipped dinner thanks to yesterday's mess. I could go for a hearty breakfast. Is that okay with you?"
Sarissa shook her head. "N-no, not at all."
She was fond of Creirwy. They were close. Her presence was a comfort, and right now, Sarissa needed that.
Maybe this was exactly what she needed—friendly company to quiet the storm in her chest.
Creirwy beamed, turning to Monica.
Monica forced a tight smile. "The more the merrier."
"Yippie!" Creirwy cheered, hooking both her arms between theirs like they were the best of friends.
She led them off toward the coffee stand.
Sarissa chuckled under her breath.
Monica laughed too, but it was hollow.
Tch. So close.
All that work and risk for nothing. I guess I'll have to stick with the kiddies.
Monica never noticed the faint gleam in Creirwy's eyes, half-hidden beneath a sweep of blonde hair.
— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —
Author's Notes:
[1] Okay, so... I just realized I made a disgusting mistake. The sixth stratum actually belongs to the Elves, and the fifth to Incida Barham. Which, honestly, makes way more sense. The Elves have always been framed as the strongest race in Paradise, and with their insanely long lifespans—five centuries is practically adolescence to them—it tracks that they'd hold the top spot as a major faction.
Going forward, I'll correct this in new chapters. I won't be going back to fix past ones, though. A few reasons: one is laziness (I admit it), but mostly because it'd mean rewriting entire sections across multiple chapters—and I'm just not doing that for a fanfic. Maybe one day. Probably not.
So yeah. I apologize... but regret nothing.
[2] Another shorter chapter today. I realized this scene would run long, so I decided to split it into two parts. Thanks for understanding.
[3] If you'd like to chat, discuss the story, or hang out, feel free to join the Discord: https://discord.gg/s3MME8X8ar