Chapter 27: Attack on the Royal Capital pt 3
A/N: Holy... I didn't realise how long this chapter would be...
enjoy!
I was feeling nice today due to the release of Chromakopia, so I decided to drop twice. I wrote a lot.
IF YOU'RE READING THIS AND HAVEN'T READ CH26, GO BACK AND READ IT NOW
As Lars and Fana were facing off, the pink haired mage suddenly looked to the sky. "So he's done his job," she muttered. She turned to Lars, her hair billowing slightly in the wind as she moved. "Had you ever thought to look at your naginata?"
"What kind of a dumb question is that?" Lars asked incredulously. He looked down at the blade of the naginata. "Hold on," he said. "How did I not notice this stone thing in the blade?"
A/N: Lars was very short-sighted. He really should have worn glasses but claimed they would slow him down in battle.
"That stone is the reason I brought you out here," she said, extending her hand. "Hand over the stone, and I'll give you your friend."
"What's so important about this gem anyways?" Lars asked, staring straight into Fana's deep green eyes. She stared back, not giving any information.
"Oh well," Lars said, getting into a battle stance. "You never were the talkative type."
…
Rades had been laughing as he received the message from his colleague, who informed him that their mission was now back on track. "Well, well, looks like we're going back to the original plan," Rades said, his grin widening. Fuegoleon had been staring him down when suddenly, a Spatial Magic spell activated, teleporting the Crimson Lion captain to an unknown location. Three glowing magic circles had appeared in front of him, their light casting an eerie glow across the dark space. Fuegoleon had instantly recognized the figure standing there but had no time to react as the magic circles closed in around him.
While this was happening, Leopold had been growing more frantic by the second, demanding to know where his brother was. "Where did you send him?!" he shouted, his voice filled with desperation. But Rades had only continued to laugh. "You'll find out soon enough, kid," he sneered. Meanwhile, Asta found the Spatial Magic user who took Fuegoleon away, and just as Asta was about to strike, Valtos opened another portal.
As Fuegoleon had been teleported to the unfamiliar, light location, the crimson glow of his mana flickered against the radiant light. Three magic circles had floated before him, their radiant light casting long shadows. He had squinted, scanning the area for any sign of the caster. That was when he saw them—someone standing just beyond the reach of the light. Fuegoleon's eyes widened slightly in recognition, though the identity of the figure had taken him by surprise.
"You..." Fuegoleon muttered, clenching his fist. And then he no longer had that fist, and fell through the ground. Things didn't make sense to him. It was like the ground was melting through his feet…
Then, he was back in the Royal Capital, on the floor, blood pouring out from the socket where his arm used to be. Noelle, Asta and Leo rushed towards him
As Fuegoleon blacked out, he heard the shouts of his subordinates.
Fuegoleon!
But… But he's so strong. That's... impossible...
H-His arm...
Fuegoleon...
Fuegoleon... Fuegoleon!
That's impossible... There's no way Fuegoleon would lose. My brother wouldn't...
…
Meanwhile, Lars was in a predicament of his own. Facing off one of the most powerful members of the Eye of the Midnight Sun, he didn't know how he was going to cope with the already unbeatable levels of power that she was showing.
But he had to gamble. For Yul, for Kian, for the rest of the Coral Peacocks.
He didn't know where Fana had taken him, and what she wanted with the stone. And he really wanted Yul back. But something in his mind told him to not give up.
So he sure as hell wasn't gonna let that bastard fire mage have it.
"Mind Magic: Tiefe Analyse!" Lars muttered, pulling up the familiar pink visor in front of his eyes. He saw a wealth of information about the mage appearing in front of his eyes. She launched her first attack.
"Crystal Creation Magic: Harpe," she said, launching multiple spinning blades made out of crystal at Fana. The mind mage, in response, cast his Infinite Thought Shield.
I need more time for analysis, he thought, manoeuvring out of the way of more Harpe that were launched at him. He raised his blade.
"Mind Magic: Telekinetic Sweep!" he yelled, sending the rend of mental energy at the fire mage, who met it with an attack of her own.
"Fire Magic: Hellfire Wave," she uttered coldly, sending a burst of fire straight at Lars's attack. The two collided, and the burst of energy pushed them back. Lars managed to stop himself using his naginata, and he decided to use that to launch his next attack, rushing towards Fana, propelled on by his desire to fight and win, to get Yul home, to see his friends again. A new spell, as it often did, formed in Lars' grimoire.
"Mind Magic: Stress Output!" Lars yelled. Cracks in the ground began to appear, and began to spew out concentrated, short bursts of mana and mental energy. It was kind of symbolic of how a brain's critical processes broke down when the body was in immeasurable stress. Fana was standing right beneath a crack. She dodged, but then landed on another, which she also had to dodge. She dodged another, then another, and she was beginning to reach her limit. Any moment, she would get hit by one of those concentrated bursts.
At that moment, Lars got a piece of data from his analysis that he couldn't have believed to be true. It's not feasible! he thought, reading the data. But all his worst fears would be confirmed when Fana used her next spell.
"Fire Spirit Magic: Salamander's Wings!" she yelled, and a pair of orange wings, bearing a resemblance to that of a dragon's, sprouted on her back. She flew out of harm's way, her wings flapping powerfully as she used a burst of speed to get away. Lars, gritting his teeth, his hands shaking as he realised the gravity of the situation, looked towards Yul's limp form on the ground. He had only begun to regain consciousness, but was still quite weak.
Seeing Yul like this made Lars angry.
He steeled his resolve. "Guess I'll just have to increase my output!" he yelled, pouring a significant amount of mana and mental energy into each crack. The bursts intensified, gaining a longer range, attacking with ferocity.
But Fana remained unyielding. "Fire + Crystal Combination Magic: Emberstone Conflagration!"
She cast the spell, and hundreds of flaming daggers, made of crystal, rained down towards Lars, who cast another Infinite Thought Shield, stopping each dagger in midair. He released the shield, exhaling, and the daggers clattered at his feet, their flames extinguished, shattering into a million pieces each, their pieces scattering in the wind.
Unbeknownst to him, however, Fana was already behind him. She put a hand to his lower back.
"Fire Spirit Magic: Blazing Elysium," she whispered.
…
Sharya wiped the sweat from her brow. Was this battle too hot to handle for her? After all, she was up against her brilliant older sister.
Deep down, Sharya could understand where her sister was coming from.
She hated the Hansens as well, after all.
After the incident a few years ago, where they were ready to excommunicate her from the Hansen family due to a failed mission, she had cut all ties with them and ran off to take part in the Magic Knights Entrance Exam. For a long while, she had thought killing for others would have been her way of life only.
And she hated that thought.
The fragmented thought looped through Sharya's head as she stared down Rela. Their clones had beaten each other, and they were both running low on mana. Both endeavoured to conserve it.
They both understood that from here on out, it would be a battle of wits and grit.
And the girl was ready to rise to the challenge.
The Magic Knights had been fighting all throughout the night, yet Sharya wasn't feeling sluggish in the slightest. Spurred on by adrenaline, she rushed at Rela, who took her second weapon out, one gifted to her by the Hansen family- a beautiful black katana, forged inside and using minerals from Yultin Volcano. As she swung it around in the light of dawn,
Sharya inhaled and exhaled, centering herself. Gotta lock in, she thought.
The two rushed at each other, blades swinging. Sharya met Rela's blade with the two of their own, and they were locked in a deadly clash. Each one knew that their technique was so refined, if the other made a misstep, they would most likely be able to finish the job. As much as Rela hated her sister, she had to admit she had gotten better. Something like proudness welled up in her chest, as they continued to fight.
Rela's katana whistled through the air, slicing toward Sharya's shoulder with deadly precision. But Sharya, light on her feet and eyes sharp with focus, sidestepped just in time, deflecting the strike with one of her blades. Sparks flew as metal met metal, the clash ringing in her ears.
"Not bad," Rela grunted, spinning on her heel and immediately following up with another swift slash aimed at Sharya's midsection.
Sharya blocked the attack, but the force of it sent a shudder down her arms. She grit her teeth. This was her sister's strength—a relentless offensive, breaking through defenses with sheer power. But Sharya wasn't going to falter now. Not after everything she'd endured.
"Is that all you've got?" Sharya taunted, forcing a smile despite the burning in her muscles.
Rela's eyes narrowed, and her next swing came even faster. "You always were mouthy."
They had both been fighting for what felt like an eternity. Every blow exchanged had been fueled by their unresolved past, by the bitterness that had festered between them. Sharya could feel it in the weight of each strike Rela delivered—resentment, anger. But under that... was there still love?
No, she couldn't think about that. Not now.
The dawn's light bathed them in a warm glow, but there was nothing warm about the tension between them. Each sister was circling the other, their movements careful, predatory. They were warriors now, not siblings. Not today.
Sharya took a breath, steadying herself. This next move had to count. She lunged forward, her blades flashing as she launched a flurry of strikes at Rela, pushing her back, forcing her to retreat. For a moment, it seemed like she had the upper hand.
But Rela had been holding back. Her lips curled into a fierce grin as she suddenly shifted her stance, the katana in her hands glinting ominously.
"Azure Flame Magic: Yultin's Edge," Rela muttered, invoking the name of her weapon.
Sharya's eyes widened as she felt the mana in the air shift, and saw the subtle flare of magic that coated her sister's blade. The temperature rose, an unnatural heat creeping up from the ground beneath them. That blade—it wasn't just a weapon. It was alive with magic.
"Let's see how much longer you can keep up," Rela growled, swinging the katana in a wide arc.
A wave of flame erupted from the blade, surging toward Sharya like a tidal wave. She barely managed to leap out of the way, rolling across the dirt as the fire smashed into the ground where she'd been standing. Heat seared her skin, and she hissed in frustration.
She'd seen this technique before. The Hansen family had long been known for infusing their weapons with elemental magic, but it still surprised her that Rela had mastered it so completely.
But Sharya wasn't without tricks of her own.
"Clone Magic: Mana Reflection!" she shouted, raising her arm just as Rela charged at her again. Her magic surged, creating a shimmering barrier that mimicked the energy of her sister's heat spell. The next strike that came her way rebounded off the barrier, sending a shockwave of energy back toward Rela.
Her sister was fast, though, already anticipating the counterattack. She dodged to the side, her breath coming out in visible puffs as she stared Sharya down.
"You've gotten stronger," Rela admitted, though there was no warmth in her voice. "But it won't be enough."
Sharya's chest heaved as she caught her breath, but her eyes stayed locked on Rela. "Stronger than you think."
In a split second, they were rushing at each other again, both refusing to back down. Their blades clashed, each strike more desperate than the last. Sharya's heart pounded in her chest, but she forced herself to stay calm. She had to outsmart her sister, not just overpower her.
As their swords clanged together, Sharya saw an opening—just for a moment, a split second where Rela's guard was down. Without thinking, she moved, slipping past her sister's blade and driving the back of her hand into Rela's ribs.
Rela gasped, stumbling backward, her hand going to her side. She glared at Sharya, pain and surprise flickering in her eyes. "You little—"
Sharya didn't let her finish. She pressed the attack, her movements fluid and relentless. For once, she wasn't fighting like the assassin they had trained her to be. She wasn't fighting for survival.
She was fighting to prove to her sister—and to herself—that she was more than the girl they had tried to mould her into.
As their blades clashed one last time, Sharya locked eyes with Rela. "This ends now."
Rela's grip on her katana tightened, her jaw clenched. But in her eyes, Sharya saw something change. Resignation? No, something deeper.
Sharya wasn't just fighting for the Hansen family. She was fighting for herself. For whatever future she thought she deserved.
And so was Rela.
Rela's breath came in sharp, ragged bursts, but her eyes blazed with fury. Her grip tightened around the hilt of her katana, and for a moment, Sharya thought she might press on, forcing the battle to its brutal conclusion.
But there was something in the way her sister shifted—an almost imperceptible hesitation. The proud warrior was faltering, unsure.
Sharya could feel her own pulse pounding in her ears. Every muscle in her body ached from the relentless fight, but she couldn't let herself weaken. Not now. She had her sister on the ropes, and that opening, the one she'd been searching for since the start of the battle, was right there in front of her. This was it.
No hesitation.
Sharya lunged forward, a burst of speed and precision that even Rela, in all her strength, couldn't match. She slid beneath her sister's next slash, moving faster than Rela could react, and brought her blade up in a sharp arc. The flat of her weapon slammed into Rela's gut, hard enough to knock the wind out of her.
Rela gasped, doubling over, eyes wide with shock.
"Got you," Sharya growled, not wasting a second. She twisted her body, spinning with the momentum, and swept Rela's legs out from under her. The older woman hit the ground with a thud, her katana flying from her hand and skidding across the dirt.
Sharya stood over her, panting, her own blades still raised and gleaming in the dawn's light. She could finish this. She should finish this. That's what a real assassin would do. It's what the Hansens had trained them to do. No mercy. No loose ends.
But she wasn't like them. Not anymore.
Rela lay on her back, clutching her ribs, her face twisted in a mixture of pain and disbelief. For a moment, neither of them moved. The dawn stretched over the horizon, casting long shadows between them. Then, slowly, Rela's expression hardened again, a mask of pure, unyielding hatred.
"You think this is over?" she spat, pushing herself up onto her elbows. "You think you've won just because you've gotten a little stronger? You're still a coward, Sharya. Still running away from the family that made you."
Sharya narrowed her eyes but didn't respond. There was no point in arguing. Rela was the one still clinging to the Hansen legacy like a lifeline, not her, no matter how hard she wanted to ignore it. And she wasn't about to let her sister's venom get under her skin now.
Rela glared up at her, as if daring her to strike the final blow. But when Sharya didn't move, the older woman's lips curled into a sneer.
"I see," Rela muttered, slowly standing, though her posture was weaker now, the pain in her side evident. She wiped the blood from her lip with the back of her hand. "Still too soft."
She took a step back, glancing at her discarded katana but making no move to retrieve it. Her eyes flicked back to Sharya, dark with malice.
"Don't think this is the end," Rela said, her voice low, dangerous. "The Hansens will always find you. No matter how far you run. But I'll end you first."
With that, she turned and bolted, vanishing into the tree line with surprising speed for someone who had just been beaten.
Sharya let out a long breath, her entire body sagging with exhaustion. She didn't chase her. She wouldn't. There was no victory in that. Besides, she'd already made her choice—to break away from the Hansens, to forge her own path. Rela could keep running back to them, but Sharya wouldn't follow.
The fight was over, but the war with her past? That was still raging.
As the dawn's light fully bloomed over the horizon, Sharya sheathed her blades. She wasn't looking for approval anymore. She wasn't looking for redemption, either.
All she wanted was to be free.
…
The blazing column of fire erupted around Lars, seemingly burning him into ashes. A small smile tugged at the fire mage's lips, which was then replaced by a shocked expression as she realised that Lars had indeed survived the blast, using another Infinite Thought Shield.
I've hit my limit, Lars thought, gritting his teeth as he leaped away from Fana. My brain can't produce enough subconscious thoughts to keep the spell strong.
He raised his naginata. "From now, I'm gonna hit you with everything!"
Fana smirked, an expression that looked slightly out of place on her. "Come forth, Salamander!" she commanded, the dragon appearing in the space left as she jumped high. They took to the skies, Fana standing on the great spirit's back.
That girl can jump, Lars thought. So that's one of the four great spirits? I'm in awe. The mana emanating from that thing is making me stumble, it's ridiculously dense.
"Mind Magic: Kraftvoller Gedankenstoß!" he said, firing the powerful mind blast at her, but the dense mana around her swirled to form a fireball.
"Fire Spirit Magic: Salamander's Breath!"
She uttered the incantation, sending a stream of fire at Lars, who dropped and rolled out of the way. Salamander didn't let up its assault, and the fire engulfed Lars, who surrounded his naginata with mana, spinning it to blow some of the fire away. But the fire was too strong and his naginata arm was moderately burned. "Enough!" Lars yelled in pain. The subconscious thoughts were flowing again, due to his extreme overthinking. Infinite Thought Shield activated again, up and running, better than ever. "Mind Magic: Grand Catharsis!" Lars yelled.
The repelling shockwave full of mana pushed Salamander back, and the fire leaped out into different directions. The field once full of grass was now completely seared, and Fana and Lars stood (well, hovered and stood respectively) face to face in this burning wasteland. Fana, for the first time, pushed back her fringe, proceeding to rip off the fringe that always covered her forehead, dropping the wisps of pink hair to the ground. Lars grimaced, getting a closer look at the forehead of Fana. His blood ran cold. "That explains it," he muttered.
On her forehead was a purple crystal, reminiscent to that of a certain Diamond Kingdom noble to Lars.
"So you're from the Diamond Kingdom?" Lars asked.
Fana didn't reply, instead casting her own spell. "Fire Spirit Magic: Salamander's Claw!" she muttered intensely. The Salamander slashed at the air, creating a flaming scratch mark that flew towards Lars with surprising intensity. "Mind Magic: Kraftvoller Gedankenstoß!" he yelled, countering it with a blast of his own.
My attacks are getting weaker, he thought. I must be on a timer, but why?
Lars couldn't see any logical explanation for this, other than…
He internally gasped. "I'm running out of mental energy?" he whispered.
This was essentially Lars's version of burnout. Repeated use of mental energy takes a huge toll on the brain. Lars hadn't stopped using spells since one week before he joined the Coral Peacocks, and even before that. If you try to work through burnout, you won't be nearly half as effective. It's the exact same principle for Lars.
In summary, he would start deteriorating until eventually, he would have to rely on his low reserves of mana to even try and lay a scratch on Fana. And that was a surefire way for him to lose.
Get here soon, Kian, he thought. I need to get Yul and get out of here.
Yul had been trying to break free for what felt like hours, his Steel Magic buzzing through his body in sharp pulses. Every time he felt a surge of strength, the restraints would clamp down even harder, biting into his skin and cutting off his circulation. He gritted his teeth, frustration gnawing at him. Damn it, I need to help him... I need to do something!
But the more he struggled, the more futile it seemed. The magic binding him was relentless, and his mana reserves were already running low from trying to free himself. He cursed under his breath, his mind flashing back to something Theresa had said to him during a training session not too long ago.
…
They had been in the Coral Peacocks' courtyard, the morning sun casting a soft glow over the training grounds. Yul was sparring with Theresa, her Plant Magic proving a tricky opponent for his Steel Magic. Every time he tried to overwhelm her with brute force, she'd counter with a defensive spell that wrapped around his attacks like vines, entangling him and rendering his magic useless. It was infuriating.
After one particularly frustrating attempt, Yul collapsed onto the ground, panting and glaring at the dirt. Theresa, standing above him with a rare, calm expression, extended a hand to help him up.
"Yul," she had said, her voice softer than usual, "you're strong, but you keep thinking strength alone is enough. That's why you lose."
He scowled at her, but took her hand. "What are you talking about? I train harder than anyone in this squad."
Theresa shook her head, her brown hair swaying slightly. "It's not about how much you train or how much power you have. It's about willpower. Especially in your case."
He scoffed. "Willpower? That's just some motivational crap. What I need is more strength, more control over my magic."
Theresa smiled knowingly. "Willpower isn't just a nice phrase, Yul. It's the mental fortitude to keep pushing forward, even when your body and magic are at their limits. You could have all the power in the world, but if your mind gives up before your body does, you'll lose every time."
Yul frowned, the words stinging his pride. "So what, you're saying I don't have the will to win?"
"No," she said, kneeling next to him. "I'm saying you need to trust in something beyond your magic. When you're at your limit, and your Steel Magic can't break through—your will has to be the thing that pushes you beyond. It's not about brute strength, Yul. It's about your heart.
He had stared at her, a mixture of scepticism and irritation brewing inside him. But there was something in her eyes—something resolute, something fierce—that made him pause. Theresa, the youngest member of their squad, was telling him he needed more willpower? Yet…she spoke with such confidence, as if she knew something he didn't.
"What do you know about willpower, anyway?" he had muttered, half-heartedly.
Theresa's gaze had softened, and she looked out toward the trees beyond the courtyard. "I know that sometimes... willpower is the only thing that keeps me going."
He had wanted to ask her what she meant by that, but the look on her face made him stop. Whatever it was, it was personal. He didn't push further.
…
Back in the present, those words rang louder than ever in Yul's mind. He wasn't just physically bound—his doubt and frustration were trapping him just as tightly. He'd been relying on brute force, thinking that his Steel Magic alone would break these restraints. But Theresa's words echoed in his mind, cutting through the haze of exhaustion.
It's not about brute strength… it's about your heart.
Yul closed his eyes, focusing inward. His magic wasn't enough right now. His body was tired. But his spirit—his will—was still burning. He refused to let Fana or anyone else keep him chained like this. He refused to let Lars down.
He took a deep breath and began to channel his mana differently, slower, more deliberately. Instead of trying to break the restraints with raw power, he focused on fortifying his mind, clearing his thoughts, sharpening his resolve. He let his Steel Magic flow more naturally, not as a force of destruction, but as a reflection of his unyielding will.
I won't give up. I will break through this. For Lars, for myself—because I refuse to be held back.
Slowly, he felt a shift in the restraints. The magic binding him weakened, as if his newfound clarity was wearing it down. His body was still screaming in pain, but his mind was sharper now, focused. With a final, forceful surge of mana, Yul let out a roar and shattered the restraints.
He stumbled forward, panting, but free. Free, because he hadn't let his doubt defeat him.
"Lars," Yul muttered under his breath, wiping the blood from his wrists. "Hold on. I'm coming."
…
Dorothy blinked groggily, her eyes barely adjusting to the dim light of the banquet hall as the remnants of her dream world clung to her mind. The mouse that had woken her scurried away, disappearing into a crack in the stone wall. She yawned, stretching out the stiffness in her limbs.
"Dream Magic: Revelation," she mumbled, her voice low and drowsy. As the words left her lips, the magic activated, swirling around her like a gentle breeze. She hadn't intended to sleep for so long, but her magic often had a mind of its own, pulling her into visions that extended beyond her control.
The shimmering mist of her Dream Magic coalesced into vivid images, as though the world itself were a canvas painted by her mind. Colours swirled together, shapes forming from nothing. At first, it was just fragments of the past—a glimpse of conversations she'd overheard, scenes of various knights going about their duties.
But then something caught her attention, a sharp pulse of urgency. Lars.
In her vision, Lars was struggling. She could see him standing before a figure—a woman with fiery hair, a great dragon hovering beside her. The oppressive heat radiating from the creature was palpable, even in Dorothy's dream state. Fana. The Fire Spirit user from the Diamond Kingdom.
The fire mage who she had taken under her wing.
Lars was casting spells, Mind Magic rippling through the air, but Dorothy could sense his fatigue. His movements were sluggish, his attacks weaker. She could almost feel the strain on his mind, the toll his magic had taken on him over the last few weeks. He was pushing himself beyond his limits, trying to stand his ground, but the fire surrounding Fana was relentless.
He's burning out, Dorothy realised, her heart sinking.
The vision shifted slightly, and Dorothy saw Yul, the Steel Magic user, her Steel Magic user, breaking free of his restraints nearby. But Lars didn't seem to know how close help was, or if he even had time to wait. He looked desperate—desperate to protect his comrades, desperate to survive.
"Dammit," Dorothy whispered. Her normally calm, dream-like demeanour vanished as she clenched her fists. Lars was in real danger, and so was Yul. She had to act quickly.
The dream flickered again, showing her another image—Kian, racing through the forest, likely toward Lars and Yul. But would he arrive in time?
Dorothy closed her eyes, focusing harder on her magic. She needed to reach out, to warn them, to give Lars even a moment's reprieve. Think, she told herself, willing her mind to sharpen despite the lingering grogginess.
She let the dream expand, her consciousness spreading outward like ripples in water. Through her Dream Magic, she could enter the minds of those in trouble, whispering to them, giving them insight. A connection—fragile, but enough to guide them.
And enough to get her over there.
"Dream Magic: Lucid Dreams," she muttered, and disappeared in a flash of cyan and pink.
A/N: Dream Magic is too good to not have multiple spells. The idea of a prophetic dream being able to show her important things while she's been asleep is too cool not to include.
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