- Outskirts of Galma -
"Hmm."
A man stared out into the distance, people gathered around him—not close enough to intrude upon his space, but near enough for the average person to pick up their muffled chatter clearly.
The ocean was unusually wild.
Not that he was paying attention to it. His gaze remained fixed beyond the horizon.
"I wanted to take my time and just walk for the first time in a while..."
His eyes drifted toward a small, well-dressed elderly woman.
"I was happy that you took time out of your busy schedule to share a drink with me," he said, adjusting his fine red-and-black robes. "It seems we'll have to postpone that, however."
Evangeline Basel, the third-generation owner and head of the great Galley-La Merchantry.
Like many notable figures who had risen from commoner origins, her immense wealth and influence had afforded her numerous opportunities to ascend into nobility. Yet she had refused to accept a title from King Fros at every turn, no matter how many times he asked.
She also refused to set foot anywhere outside Galma or Degradio—a matter that frustrated many prominent forces seeking to gain influence over her socioeconomic power.
"Brat..." she started, her voice raspy and rough with age. "What exactly has you in such a rush all of a sudden? I prepared some good booze, you know."
A light laugh escaped the man as he lowered himself and patted her on the head.
"I'm older than you."
"Well, you don't look it."
He rose again with a hum, seemingly musing over something without a care in the world.
"There's a storm brewing, so I have to go."
Eva scoffed, letting out a dry laugh.
"You're the one concerned about storms?" she asked. "Do you forget who you are?"
"That's particularly hard to do," he responded earnestly. "People won't let me."
He stepped onto the edge of the "cliff," the abrupt cutoff in the terrain appearing unnaturally smooth from the effects of Luvarne's extraction.
"Anyway," he continued, his tone becoming even more casual. "I'll see about stopping by whenever I start heading back home."
The old merchant boss shook her head, her eyes settling closed.
"Don't even bother," she said. "Do I look like that much of a freeloade—?"
By the time she'd opened her eyes, he was gone.
Not a single trace of him having been there left.
"...What a flashy man."
---
- Former Site of the Vargess Mountains -
Clasp
A smile formed underneath the mask as white mana seeped from his palm at the point of contact with Evelyn's face.
The mage let loose a bloodcurdling scream, scarlet gushing from her left eye.
The cloaked man's fingers curled slightly, his mana dissipating as his brows furrowed before—
Jolt
His arm spasmed, bending in several unnatural directions along its length.
'What...?' he thought almost too plainly.
And then—
Splash
Three presences converged around him.
A buster sword from his right.
A battle axe from his left.
And a hammer from below.
The stranger managed to wrest control of his body back just in time, twisting through the air and narrowly evading the three weapons.
He landed lightly on the surface of the water.
Closing and opening his fist, a frown formed before deepening into a scowl, a vein bulging on his forehead.
"This fool dares to fight back now...?"
Yuno rushed to Evelyn's side, catching her as she thrashed in agony, completely unable to maintain even the slightest degree of mana control.
"...How is she?" Kern asked, his jaw tightening.
Yuno's eyes remained fixed on their vice-captain, tears welling in them.
"Her eye's... gone," he stammered. "Her face is really hurt too. It looks like it's been chewed up..."
"I see..."
A brown aura flared around Kern, enveloping his sword.
He briefly turned toward the third person, acknowledging her presence with a faint nod.
"So you survived," he said before his eyes settled on the ornate hammer. "You didn't use that earlier."
Runda panted heavily, half her face painted red with blood. Whether it was hers or someone else's, they couldn't tell.
"I'm sorry about... your friend," she said curtly.
"Don't be," Kern replied, face flush with controlled fury. "I'll kill the bastard responsible right now...!"
Suddenly, a red orb of energy surfaced, spilling its inhabitants out without delay.
Lorraine quickly removed herself from the heap of Draymond and a mangled battle priest survivor.
"Runda!" she yelled, eyes bulging. "Was almost dying once not enough for you?!"
"You saved me."
"Exactly!" Lorraine barked. "So that we could run away! Why did you charge right back into this mess?!"
"He..." The brunette pointed at Kern with her hammer. "Is a respectable warrior."
The Blood Witch blinked.
"...Huuuh?" she drawled, her face twisting in annoyance. "That's it? That's why you're trying to waste my investment in you?!"
"If I ran and he died, I would shame my ancestors."
Lorraine looked ready to rip her own hair out.
"Please treat the woman," Runda requested.
"Hm?"
Only then did Lorraine notice Evelyn's shuddering, unconscious form.
"That... is gruesome."
"You can help her, right?"
Lorraine stared into her comrade's eyes, recognising the look from some of the other incidents they'd been in up to that point.
"I can... provide first aid," she said, briefly glancing toward the motionless masked man. "But why should I?"
Yuno's head snapped in her direction.
"Please!" he shouted, snapping even the stranger out of his self-distraction. "We'll do anything...! We'll owe you anything! Just please—!"
"Yuno!" Kern yelled.
He and Runda steadied themselves for an incoming attack.
"Be careful not to tie the lord's name to an unpayable debt," he continued. "Lady, I alone will personally owe you."
His eyes narrowed as white mana slowly rolled off of the man a few metres away.
"So please treat our friend."
Lorraine regarded them dryly.
'How foolish,' she thought. 'But if we survive here...'
She sighed. "Fine."
She pointed at the purple formulas manifesting around the stranger as he clapped his hands together and pointed them forward.
"You'll have to keep me safe from that, though."
Crimson mana erupted around Runda.
"Of course," Kern said, nodding at the Vaudyrian brunette.
The two immediately skated forward across the water.
Lorraine crouched next to Yuno, shoving him aside.
Countless tiny symbols formed on the surfaces of her fingertips.
"Boy, stand guard," she muttered, not even looking at him. "I don't like it when people watch me work."
She then froze mid-motion, her fingers hovering just above the treatment area.
"Look after those two useless bags of flesh while you're at it."
---
Immediately, Kern understood that whatever spell was being woven would be more trouble than he was comfortable dwelling on.
He swung for the man's hands—the apparent focal point of the magic—forcing him to break his formation and leap sideways.
Something was different.
Mana was still required to follow his movements, but...
He was more sluggish.
And his shoulders slumped a little further every time he came to a stop.
"You see it too, right?" Kern muttered.
Runda nodded.
Both dispersed the mana beneath their feet, allowing themselves to fall beneath the waves.
The stranger frowned, panting as he carefully searched for them with his heightened senses.
Then, without warning, he locked in place.
His body spasmed, muscles twitching uncontrollably.
'Damn it!' His teeth ground together. 'Again...?!'
Two large eruptions of water burst from his back and left, forcing him to duck rigidly beneath a slash.
His senses tracked the hammer-wielder without requiring him to look, but the swordsman was so relentless that he could barely find an opening to retaliate, let alone create enough distance to deal with either of them.
He backflipped away from another thrust, the world seeming to slow as he descended.
A flash of brown and bronze rocketed toward him.
Crack
The hammer slammed into his chest, slightly fracturing several ribs and sending him flying backwards.
The duo didn't let up.
Kern was on him almost instantly, delivering a strike he was only barely able to block with a mana-enhanced hand.
Then came a kick from Runda, snapping his head sideways, the force tearing the breathing mask from his face.
Using the momentum, she pivoted through the air and brought her hammer down over his head.
She was about to follow up when Kern grabbed her around the waist and hauled her backwards.
"What are you doing?" she demanded, breathing heavily as she glared at the opportunity they'd just lost. "We could've killed him right there."
Kern's expression turned grim.
"No... there's something wrong with him," he said quietly. "It didn't feel right just now."
The man stood at an incredibly odd angle, he remained still for what seemed to be minutes before he raised a hand.
Smack!
Smack!
Smack!
Seemingly satisfied with his assault on himself, he stopped, the hand hovering just slightly off his cheek.
And then, his body started rumbling.
It was as though explosions were detonating beneath his skin, muscles and bones shifting in violent, unnatural waves.
Just as abruptly, everything snapped back into place.
He sighed, blood gushing from his eyes, nose and ears.
"...That should do it."
He casually blew his nose, then wiped beneath it, clearing away some of the blood.
The atmosphere felt thin again.
"What are you...?" Runda asked, tightening her hold on her hammer.
The white-haired stranger didn't even honour them with a glance. The glow in his eyes flickered once before intensifying.
Mana erupted around him, blanketing the area in blinding white.
Drip
Amid the deafening roar of the surrounding energy, the distinct sound of something heavy—almost viscous—falling into the water rang out.
Then another.
And another.
It wasn't long before screams tore through the battlefield from every direction, forcing Kern and Runda to swivel blindly, their eyes squeezed shut as they struggled to make sense of what was happening.
"Ahh!! What is this...? Ah... it hurts! It—"
Kern snapped around.
"Yuno?!" he shouted, panic filling his chest. "What's happening to you?!"
There was no response.
Only a continuous, overwhelming flood of agony.
Drip
'That one was closer...!' Kern noted, stepping uncertainly to the side and bumping into something.
"Is that you, warrior?" Runda asked, her voice carrying a rare edge of panic.
"Oh... yeah, it's me," Kern sighed in relief. "Has your vision recovered?"
"No. The mana hasn't dissipated yet either."
Their conversation was cut short, both of their instincts screaming of incoming danger.
Clang
A black blade collided against a large, droplet-shaped mass of shadow.
"What did I say..." Arno grunted, forcing the attack aside. "About staying out of the way?!"
The white energy shuddered, then started receding toward its source.
"My lord, is that you?" Kern asked, opening his eyes and trying to force them to adjust quicker.
Arno exhaled, a stream of steaming air escaping his lips.
'I don't have much time left.'
He released a burst of power, sending the large elder and the brunette mercenary hurtling backwards toward Lorraine and the other survivors.
With the blinding mana finally gone, the corpses scattered across the sea became visible.
Some were missing entire chunks of flesh. Others looked as though they had been suffocated before whatever had begun consuming them could finish.
"You'll only hold me back," Arno declared, lowering himself into a stance. "Sit back and don't add to the casualty count."
His voice was as lax and careless as ever.
But Kern could tell.
He was sad.
And even more than that—
Angry.
Arno shot forward, the darkening effect filling his sclera almost entirely.
He drove a kick toward the man's midsection, only for the white-haired stranger to brush it aside with one hand. Arno immediately pivoted, twisting with the motion as Pestilence carved through the air in a vicious horizontal arc.
The man simply skated backwards across the water, the blade passing harmlessly before him.
"It's unfortunate, boy."
He adjusted his cloak with an irritated tug before rolling his shoulders and cracking his neck. For the first time, the faint amusement that had coloured his expression throughout their exchange was completely absent.
A prominent frown remained.
"I no longer have time to play with you."
Arno's lips curled into a vicious smile.
Then, seemingly fending off that excitement, he forced himself to take steady breaths, dragging a wet hand through his hair and slicking it backwards.
"You don't need to tell me that..." His fingers tightened around Pestilence. "We're also about ready to kill you for real, after all."
The man's eyes widened as he quickly turned.
'Behind...!'
A brilliant yellow mana began tracing itself across the night sky, thin streams of energy stretching outward in deliberate arcs.
At first, they seemed almost random.
Then the pattern became clear.
A spider lily.
Its enormous form was drawn across the darkness in luminous strokes, each strand of mana humming with a deep pressure that made the surrounding air tremble.
The white-haired man's muscles tensed as the flower began to bloom slowly.
Its radiant petals unfurled in every direction in a steady expansion of yellow that illuminated the ocean beneath.
And at its very centre—
Wesley.
The Dormese captain stood suspended within the heart of the formation, both hands cupped above and below around a violently compressed scarlet sphere.
While the stranger's attention was turned away, a flicker of indigo appeared in his blind spot.
"Where are you..."
Arno emerged behind him, Pestilence already poised at his hip, a wild grin spreading across his face as he prepared his quick-draw strike.
"...looking?!"
"Tsk."
The man allowed the blade to bite into his arm, then answered with a sharp kick to the Baron's chin.
Arno's head snapped upward, but the stranger was already reaching for his hair.
He never got the chance.
Arno surged forward and drove his forehead into the man's face, staggering him backwards.
The stranger sneered and swung with his injured arm as though the wound meant nothing.
The punch connected.
But Arno caught the arm before it could retract, fingers clamping around the wrist with unworldly strength. His sword came down again and again, each strike carrying the frantic, almost deranged ferocity of a man who had lost all civilised manner.
The stranger tried to pull away but he couldn't.
Arno held him fast.
One final swing came down and—
Slash
The arm separated roughly.
Almost on cue, shadows erupted from beneath the man's feet, tendrils surging upward to engulf Arno before spreading outward toward Wesley.
The captain frowned at the sight.
Then his expression forcibly twisted into that familiar, feral grin.
"Oi, Julius! Keep a tight hold of that sword for me!" he called, cockiness returning to his voice. "I'll pluck it off your corpse and gift it to Lord Rosenhart!"
The sphere of compressed heat in his hands trembled violently, his fingers shaking as though barely capable of containing the power packed within it.
Slash
Arno burst from the mass of dark tendrils, panting heavily as the hazy cloak surrounding his body began receding against his will.
"...It's an investment, asshole..." he muttered, tightening his grip around Pestilence. "The guy who actually owns it might go to war over it..."
"I must say..." The stranger's voice had grown noticeably more gravelly, strained by something unseen. "This engagement has soured far beyond what I expected."
The shadows pulsed.
Blackness began spreading across the region, swallowing the water, the sky, and everything caught within its reach.
"Rather than satisfaction..."
His lip thinned.
"...I find myself feeling thoroughly annoyed."
He brought his hands together.
Clap
In an instant, the four remaining cloaked figures appeared behind him.
Arno's eyes narrowed.
"What happened to them staying out of it?" he asked, wincing as he clutched his wounded sword arm.
The stranger's gaze settled upon him.
"As I said... it is no longer a game."
The five figures prepared themselves.
Arno steadied his breathing and threw a semi-desperate glance toward Wesley.
'Is it not ready yet?!'
"This is what you call games?"
The voice wasn't loud, and it didn't need to be.
Everyone froze.
The darkness that had nearly consumed the entire battlefield vanished.
It didn't visibly disperse.
Neither were there signs of it being dispelled.
It simply ceased to exist, as though it had never been there.
'What...?'
The white-haired stranger blinked, a hand instinctively moving to his chest as some inexplicable sensation rattled him to his core.
Arno barely had time to register the unfamiliar presence standing between them.
"...Who—?"
His voice caught, then his body collapsed, falling into the water as his mana refused to answer him.
Across the battlefield, Wesley suffered the same fate. His elaborate technique immediately unravelled, the enormous flower of yellow mana collapsing as the condensed sphere in his hands dispersed and he dropped helplessly toward the sea.
One by one, every living person experienced the same.
The air refused to enter or exit their lungs.
Their muscles locked.
Mana wouldn't respond.
Instinct itself seemed to have abandoned them.
They were like prey in the presence of an other-dimensional beast.
Arno forced his head upward.
A man clad in red and black hovered calmly a few centimetres off the water.
Just laying eyes on him made everything he felt a hundred times worse.
'This is...'
Primal fear.
It was an emotion unlike any Arno had ever felt—even from the lord he served somewhat grudgingly.
Golden hair framed a face that carried an almost casual indifference, brilliant golden eyes ignoring the battlefield as though everything before him existed beneath his range of interest.
There was no obvious hostility. No killing intent. No grand display of power.
Yet Arno's entire body understood.
Run.
Except he couldn't.
This person's presence alone was enough to make the world feel like something he could crush beneath his heel.
"Storm Tyrant!"
The previously masked man screamed, clutching his head as though suffering through a violent panic attack.
Instantly, the sobriquet struck everyone present, eyes widening to severe proportions.
'This is him?!'
"Why are you here?! You can't...! Ugh!"
The golden-haired man regarded the cloaked group—specifically the spiralling leader—with what looked to be mild irritation.
"My warnings must mean nothing to you, huh?" he mused aloud.
And then—
The world became light.
Arno felt himself coming apart.
Not burning.
Not being cut.
Disintegrating at the most basic level.
Layer by layer, his body ceased to exist, the sensation impossibly clear despite happening far too quickly for his mind to comprehend.
As the brightness started to become indistinguishable from the sightlessness of the dark, he could only mentally stare into the nothingness.
There was no pain.
'Ah... I'm dead.'