For two beings capable of freely manipulating time, using time itself to measure the outcome of their battle is meaningless.
Though ages have passed since that confrontation, and the sea of stars above has long since returned to normal, that peace is only an illusion. Across endless time and in every corner of the world, their battle still rages on—never ceasing, never ending.
However, since there were still things to attend to—and the old professor had a mountain of paperwork waiting—Lloyd didn't elaborate further. He only said that once things settled down, if there was time, they could talk about it properly. Then, taking the apprentice along, he made his way toward the Blood Therapy faction.
During the journey, though the apprentice didn't quite believe his teacher's claim that Lloyd had been one of the combatants in the Battle of the Stars, he still showed the respect due to a Duel Classroom master. He not only guided the way but also did his best to answer Lloyd's questions and carry out his requests.
"I heard from your teacher that you've taken Blood Therapy as an elective. How much do you know about the project they've been working on recently?"
"Well… not much, honestly."
The student shook his head before continuing.
"I wasn't there long, and I don't know many people. They invited me when the project first started, but I turned it down—I major in Glintstone Sorcery, and at the time I was helping my teacher with research on the next-generation magic engine."
"Still, when they tried to recruit me, they said their goal was to combine blood therapy with healing Incantations—to create a kind of all-purpose restorative technique. Not just for wounds or disease, but even to reverse aging…"
"Mutated immortality?" Lloyd asked.
The student shook his head again.
"Not immortality. Just slowing the rate of aging."
"Recent studies show that the more often the same healing technique or Incantation is used on someone, the less effective it becomes."
"So even if their project succeeds, it'll only extend human lifespan to a degree—not true immortality."
He paused, as if remembering something, then sighed.
"But even if they manage to pull it off, it probably won't see use anytime soon."
"After the recent wave of technological breakthroughs, the Ethics and Politics Departments are both on the verge of collapse. Forget research that obviously stirs controversy— even our teacher's new generation of mana engines got put on hold. They're worried that the massive boost in efficiency could put a whole tier of lower-ranking sorcerers out of work."
"If that's how it is for mana engines, then for longevity research, it's not even a question. You don't need to think hard to know something like this would shake the system to its core. The people in charge would be in for a nightmare…"
Knowing that Lloyd, despite being a master, rarely visited the academy and seemed unfamiliar with its internal workings, the student continued to chat as they walked.
He talked about all sorts of things—the new mana engines, the Blood Therapy and Prayer Institutes' projects, the Ethics Department's headaches, the political infighting, and other odd happenings throughout the academy…
By the time they finished talking, they had reached the Blood Therapy classroom.
But strangely, the room—normally buzzing with activity—was completely empty.
The student walked in, puzzled. He checked the room, found a cup of Dilu drink still warm, then examined a few more traces before turning back to Lloyd.
"Looks like they left not long ago. Probably went down to the underground lab."
Because Blood Therapy research often involved grisly and disturbing experiments—and due to traditions inherited from its predecessor, the Blood Dynasty—their laboratories were located underground.
Since he had attended classes there before, the student knew where the entrance was. Without needing to ask, he led Lloyd to it, pushed open the door, and stepped inside.
The first thing they saw was a towering statue of a goddess—holy and maternal, yet exuding a heavy, iron scent of blood.
The student froze the moment he saw it.
"What's wrong? Something about the statue?"
"No… It's just—this place shouldn't be this empty."
Before them stood the statue, streaked with two trails of blood tears running from its hollow eyes. A creeping sense of dread stirred in the student's chest.
Normally, because the Blood Therapy faction specialized in medical sorcery of the flesh and held infamously harsh examinations, students would often come here to the statue of the Mother Goddess to pray—asking for mercy, for success, or simply to survive another test.
Now, with final assessments approaching, this place should have been packed. Yet aside from the two of them, not a single soul remained.
"Master Lloyd, please wait. I should report this anomaly to the academy first."
He pulled out his maginet tablet, sent a quick message to his instructor, and scanned the surroundings once more. Only then did he proceed, his expression dark as he led Lloyd onward.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Their footsteps echoed through the corridor—alone, hollow, swallowed by silence.
Then, amid that eerie stillness and the growing stench of blood, the two arrived at the Blood Therapy laboratory doors.
They were locked.
"…Something's wrong."
The student looked up. Above the door, an indicator light glowed faint green. A skull icon pulsed on its surface.
The signal for "Severe Mutagenic Contamination Inside."
He knew immediately this was bad—but what puzzled him was why. Incidents like this weren't unheard of. Even when containment failed, someone would always step out to report the situation or request help from the academy.
But now, if he and Lloyd hadn't come by chance, no one would even know something had happened here.
No report. No warning signal. Nothing.
That was impossible.
"When conducting Level II or higher research, at least three layers of alert systems must be active. At the first sign of an incident—even if uncertain—one must report it immediately."
That line came straight from On Research Safety and Insurance, the treatise written by the 'Magickal Block Master' Sellen, founder of the modern Safety Spell and Research Insurance systems. Every student at the academy had to memorize it word for word upon enrollment.
The student refused to believe the Blood Therapy faction could make such a basic mistake. Especially given the danger of their field—he knew for a fact their labs had more than triple the standard safeguards. No matter what went wrong, something should have triggered an alert.
Yet now… nothing.
"Master, I think we should fall back for—"
Clang—!
Before he could finish, Lloyd had already torn the metal door open with his bare hands.
The student froze.
Beyond the threshold lay a scene straight out of hell.
Countless figures in the Blood Therapy robes sprawled across the floor, their bodies mangled beyond recognition. Flesh torn, bones shattered—some lay in pieces, their entrails spilling across the tiles.
The student knew Blood Therapy practitioners could be reckless, that some indulged in forbidden experimentation… but this? This was madness.
And it wasn't over.
Those who still moved weren't healing their wounds—they were feeding. Like rabid beasts, they tore into the corpses of their comrades, gnawing and swallowing hunks of flesh as blood dripped down their chins.
"This is—"
He never finished the sentence.
The creatures—once students—snapped their heads up at the sound, eyes glinting red with hunger. The instant they saw fresh prey, they lurched to their feet and charged.
Without hesitation, the student activated his portable magic barrier, summoning a blue blade of condensed arcane light. He swung it hard, cutting clean through the nearest monster.
For a heartbeat, he thought it worked—until he realized something was wrong.
The bisected creature didn't die. Both halves writhed and moved, each twisting, splitting, and reshaping—as if becoming two separate beings.
Worse still, his blade was no longer pure blue. A foul, pus-colored film clung to it, bubbling faintly under the light.
"This thing infects magic!"
The student cried out, instantly tossing aside his lightsaber. He shut down his magic shield, ripped out the shield core, and threw that away too.
Then he grabbed a small portable bomb—one designed without any magical components—and hurled it toward the monsters before turning to flee.
He had to warn the academy.
That was all he could think.
But even that thought quickly became meaningless.
Though the laboratory was underground, certain experiments required magic for power, and the corridors were lined with conduits that carried it.
And where there were conduits, there was a path for infection.
Before he could even reach the exit, he saw it happen—the yellow rot spread along the glowing channels of the conduits, racing faster than he could run. It surged upward, bursting from the depths straight toward the academy's magical core.
Then—
BOOM!
The ground shook violently. By the time the student staggered outside, the entire academy was already smothered beneath a sickly yellow haze. All around, the infected roamed—grotesque, twisted things that had once been scholars.
It was over.
Staring at the crumbling remains of the academy, the student fell to his knees, numb.
Behind him, a calm voice spoke, its tone dry, almost amused.
"Classic. Immortality research ends with zombies, huh?"
So that's why Elizabeth had called him here. Judging by the scale of it, if no one intervened, this wouldn't just consume the academy—soon the entire Lands Between would drown in pus and corruption.
As Lloyd muttered this to himself, an aged figure emerged from the chaos ahead.
The old professor—encased in non-magical alloy armor—punched his way through the infected, each blow reducing another creature to pulp, until he reached them.
"As expected," he said, shaking blood from his knuckles and managing a wry smile at Lloyd. "If something's bad enough to draw you here, it's never simple."
"So," he asked, "same as last time?"
"Yeah. Same as last time."
Lloyd nodded and looked up, watching the yellow corruption continue to spread. His voice was calm, detached.
"Let it brew for a bit. See what happens."
"Then, once we've logged the data, we'll—"
The rest faded from the student's hearing.
Whether from the strain of the run or the shock of what he'd seen, his breathing slowed, his vision darkened, and he slipped into unconsciousness.
...
When he awoke, both his teacher and Lloyd were gone. He was lying weakly on an old, creaking bed, his body drained of all strength.
"You're awake?"
A voice came from nearby.
He turned to see a mage he didn't recognize, though the face felt oddly familiar. Behind him stood several others, all in tattered robes, their faces pale and afraid.
"Where… are we?"
"This is one of the academy's underground safe rooms," the mage replied. "We found you collapsed on the road while heading here and brought you back."
He paused, then met the student's eyes.
"You… know what's happening outside, don't you?"
"…Yeah."
The student nodded faintly. After a moment of silence, he asked, his voice trembling,
"Then… what's it like out there now?"
Silence followed.
A long, heavy silence.
Then a sigh.
"There isn't an 'outside' anymore."
The mage lifted his gaze, looking around the dim shelter before returning his eyes to the student. His voice was quiet but firm.
"It's just us now."
"We're all that's left—the academy's last survivors."