Chapter 28: The Captain Arrives
As the Salamander's fiery slashes rained down, Lars gripped his naginata tightly, summoning all his focus. He cast a swift glance at the fire spirit, noting the power and precision of its strikes. The massive creature loomed over him, exuding waves of heat that pressed against his every nerve, testing his resolve. Lars could feel his energy waning, each Telekinetic Sweep taking its toll as he deflected and redirected attacks, his mind racing with strategies to keep up.
He inhaled sharply, steeling himself. He couldn't afford to let up, not against an opponent as relentless as Fana. Her intensity was like a firestorm in itself, pushing him to the edge with each attack. She moved fluidly, her form unwavering as she matched her spirit's ferocity, using her connection to the Salamander to unleash a perfect, coordinated onslaught.
A gust of wind and a crackling inferno forced Lars back a step, and he gritted his teeth. He could feel himself slipping, each motion slower, each dodge slightly less precise. Sweat streamed down his face, but he fought to keep his focus razor-sharp. His thoughts flickered to his squad members, his friends—they were counting on him. He could not fail here, no matter how strong the foe.
Fana's eyes glinted, her mouth curving into a slight, predatory smile. She sensed his fatigue; the scent of her opponent's weariness was as clear to her as the flames that flickered and danced around them. She had been forged in combat, sharpened by countless battles and missions with the Coral Peacocks. To her, Lars was simply another obstacle—one she intended to eliminate with ruthless precision.
"Not giving up yet?" she taunted, her voice ringing clear and cold above the roaring fire. "You're persistent, I'll give you that. But your endurance won't last long against the Salamander."
Ignoring her jeers, Lars dug deeper into his reserves. He thrust his naginata forward, conjuring a massive telekinetic force that swept across the ground in an arc, the powerful wave rippling toward the Salamander. But Fana countered with a sharp command, and the fire spirit raised a claw, effortlessly slicing through Lars's assault with a searing slash of its own.
"Come on, Lars," she continued, her tone almost mocking. "I expected more from you, a mage with so much promise. You're running out of tricks, aren't you?"
Lars clenched his jaw, refusing to rise to her taunts. His breathing was becoming ragged, but his mind still raced, evaluating options, considering the scant few possibilities he had left. He swept his gaze across the battlefield, eyes searching for any weakness in the fire spirit's movements, any opportunity to exploit.
Suddenly, he felt an intense heat from above. His eyes widened as he looked up to see the Salamander hovering, casting a deep, fiery glow over him. Its mouth opened, gathering flames, the light within it intensifying as it prepared a new attack.
Fana's voice rang out, deadly and triumphant. "Fire Spirit Magic: Pluvia Infernus!"
With a slight tilt of its head, the Salamander released a small, crackling fireball that shot upward. Lars braced himself, squinting up at the fireball as it rose. For a moment, it seemed harmless, but then it expanded, growing massive, a sphere of blazing heat that sent waves of scalding air rolling over him. His heart pounded as the searing heat forced him to break into a sweat, his grip on the naginata slippery with perspiration. The fiery orb glowed with a fierce intensity, casting a hellish light across the battlefield as it began to split and fragment into dozens of smaller, seething orbs.
Lars felt a moment of pure dread as he saw the fiery downpour descending. The Salamander's flames turned into a storm of meteors, each one hurtling toward him with terrifying speed. His mind raced, calculating possible manoeuvres, desperate to dodge the inferno barreling down on him.
"Lars!" a voice called from the sidelines. It was Yul, his fellow mage, arriving just in time to see the deadly barrage approaching. "We need to get out of here now!"
But Lars's legs refused to move. His body felt heavy, rooted in place by fatigue, his muscles worn and his energy drained. The world around him felt like it was shrinking, the flames roaring in his ears, drowning out everything else.
"Lars! Are you listening?" Yul shouted again, desperation thick in his voice.
Yul's voice pulled Lars out of his stupor. He forced himself to raise his naginata, willing his strength back. He couldn't leave—he had to stop Fana here. Lars steadied his breath, searching for the quiet centre within himself that he always turned to in battle. Slowly, a sense of calm returned. He gathered the last reserves of his strength, the spark of determination reigniting within him.
With a renewed focus, Lars tightened his grip on his weapon and took a deep breath, centering his mind. He could feel the connection to his magic flickering weakly, but it was enough—enough for one final move. A move that he hoped would be his salvation.
His eyes narrowed on Fana, who watched him with a cool, almost bored expression. "I'm going to need everything I have," he muttered under his breath, his eyes glowing faintly as he tapped into his remaining mana. "Mind Magic…" he whispered, his naginata glowing with a vibrant pink energy. Wisps of mana flowed around the blade, gathering into a radiant aura. He lifted his weapon high above his head, feeling every ounce of his willpower channel into the magic coursing through him.
"This is my 100% for now," he said, his voice soft yet unwavering. He locked eyes with Fana, a fierce determination blazing in his gaze. "I hope you enjoy it, Fana."
With a roar, he brought his weapon down, unleashing his ultimate attack. "Neural Rapture!"
The air around him seemed to pulse as a massive, pink arc of energy erupted from his naginata, slicing forward with tremendous speed and force. It cut through the battlefield, blazing a path straight for Fana and the Salamander. The slash radiated a powerful aura, a manifestation of Lars's desperation and defiance.
The flaming meteors in its path exploded in bursts of fire and mana as the slash cut through each one, surging toward Fana. The battlefield lit up with fiery detonations, each explosion rocking the ground, the mana rippling outward in waves.
Fana's gaze narrowed as she watched Lars's attack approach. She raised a hand, her expression cold and resolute. "Flame Spirit Magic: Salamander's Purge!"
In an instant, the Salamander reared back, its mouth aglow with searing light. A beam of intense, concentrated fire shot out, colliding with Lars's slash in a fierce explosion of magic. The two attacks met in midair, clashing in a dazzling display of power, each trying to overpower the other.
Lars could feel the strain in his muscles, the drain on his mana intensifying. He poured every last ounce of strength into the attack, his body trembling as he fought to push his magic forward. He could feel the beam pushing against his slash, inch by inch, his energy waning as he struggled to hold his ground.
But slowly, almost imperceptibly, the balance began to shift—against him.
Fana's fire beam began to overpower his Neural Rapture, its sheer force pushing back against him, consuming his attack. Lars's heart pounded, dread creeping into his mind as he realised his magic was dissipating, his energy completely spent.
"Am I… cooked?" he muttered, a chill of fear washing over him despite the intense heat surrounding him. The realisation that he might be outmatched settled heavily in his mind, and for a moment, he felt his resolve falter.
The Salamander's fire beam broke through his attack, the fiery torrent blazing toward him with unstoppable force. Lars braced himself, knowing he had no energy left to counter it. He could already feel the searing heat pressing against him, the blazing fire threatening to consume him whole.
Just as the flames were about to engulf him, a dense mist suddenly swept across the battlefield, blanketing everything in a thick, swirling fog. The mist came without warning, its cool, damp presence a stark contrast to the heat and fire. It glowed softly, shifting hues of pink, violet, and blue dancing through the mist, creating an ethereal, almost surreal atmosphere.
The mist swallowed the flames, smothering them as if they had never existed. Lars watched in disbelief as the fire vanished, replaced by the cool, gentle embrace of the mist. The air around him cooled, the oppressive heat dissipating, and he could finally breathe again.
Lars blinked, confusion washing over him. One moment, he was staring down Fana's devastating magic, ready to gamble everything on one final attack. The next, the world had shifted.
Somewhere, faintly, he sensed Dorothy's presence—a lingering connection in his mind that was growing weaker by the second. In the haze of his thoughts, he realised that this mist wasn't a mere coincidence; it was her doing, her magic shielding him in his moment of vulnerability.
"Dream Magic," a soft voice rang out, "Glamour World."
His captain had arrived.
…
As Kian and Nozel stood amidst the rubble of the battlefield, they could sense several Eye of the Midnight Sun mages lurking just beyond the shadows. The air crackled with tension, and Kian shifted his stance, his eyes narrowing as he surveyed the scene.
One of the enemy mages stepped forward, their cloak billowing as they raised a hand. "We didn't expect a royal to venture this far into the fray," the mage sneered, his eyes flicking to Nozel. "Or a fighter of your calibre, judging by your mana signature." His gaze shifted to Kian.
Kian smirked. "You're right about one thing: I'm not in the mood to go easy on any of you." He glanced at Nozel, who gave him a slight nod, indicating that he was prepared to fight by his side.
The enemy mage chanted, summoning an array of magical symbols that glowed an ominous shade of purple. "Chain Binding Magic: Chains of Nightfall!" Chains forged from pure mana surged forward, aimed at the two of them. But Kian's eyes flickered with determination, and with a flick of his wrist, he channelled his mana.
"Force Magic: Gran Peso!" A shockwave burst from his palms, disrupting the chains' trajectory and scattering them into particles of light before they could reach him or Nozel.
Without missing a beat, Nozel raised his hand. "Mercury Magic: Silver Rain." Liquid mercury emerged from his grimoire, forming countless droplets suspended in the air, each shimmering like molten metal. With a flick of his fingers, Nozel directed the droplets to rain down on the Eye mages, each drop seeking out a target with deadly precision.
The enemy mages scrambled to avoid the shimmering rain, but several were struck, gasping in pain as the mercury seared through their magical defences. One mage screamed as the mercury hardened into sharp spikes, pinning him to the ground.
Kian grinned, watching Nozel's precision. "Nicely done. Let's keep this going."
Before they could regroup, another Eye mage raised his hand, his aura darkening as he muttered, "Shroud Magic: Fog of Despair." A dense, oppressive fog descended, obscuring vision and dulling Kian's senses. The heavy mist clung to him, draining his energy and making each breath feel laboured.
Kian staggered but tightened his jaw, not willing to show weakness. "Not going to get me that easily," he muttered, his eyes glowing with intense focus.
He raised his hand again. "Force Magic: Gran Peso!" A wave of pure mana burst from his hand, clearing a circle around him and dispersing the fog. Nozel used the opening to strike.
"Mercury Creation Magic: Silver Lance!" Nozel's mana surged, forming a spear of mercury that shot forward, piercing through the mist and skewering the mage who had conjured the fog. The fog lifted as the mage's spell was broken, revealing a battlefield strewn with the bodies of defeated Eye members.
Yet more opponents emerged, and Kian tightened his grip, ready to face them head-on. "Looks like they just keep coming," he said, glancing at Nozel. "Any ideas for thinning the herd?"
Nozel gave a slight smile, his expression unyielding. "I don't usually entertain so many guests. But perhaps a demonstration of royal power will suffice."
With that, he raised both hands. "Mercury Magic: Flowing Fortress!" Liquid mercury poured from his grimoire, forming a massive wall that swept around them in a protective circle. The Eye mages who tried to breach it found themselves ensnared as the mercury twisted into tendrils, binding and restraining them in place.
Kian gave an appreciative nod. "Not bad. My turn."
He leapt onto one of the mercury tendrils, using it as a platform as he soared into the air. As he reached the peak of his jump, Kian summoned all his mana. "Force Magic: Grand Impact!" Slamming his fist downward, he created a shockwave that cracked through the ground, disrupting the enemy mages' formation and sending several of them flying.
One of the mages, more resilient than the others, charged at Kian, his eyes blazing with hatred. "You think we fear royals and their lackeys?" he snarled, raising a staff that began to glow with dark magic. "Corrosion Magic: Erosion Wave!"
A wave of decaying energy surged forward, turning everything in its path to ash. Kian's eyes widened as he felt the heat of the magic approaching, and he prepared to counter. But before he could act, Nozel intervened.
"Mercury Magic: Flowing Fortress." A dome of solid mercury materialised in front of Kian, absorbing the corrosion wave. The mercury barrier shimmered, then redirected the magic, reflecting it back at the Eye mage. The corrosive energy turned back on its caster, who screamed as he was consumed by his own spell.
Kian exhaled, impressed by Nozel's precision. "Efficient as always, Captain."
Nozel merely raised an eyebrow. "I expect no less from myself. You'd do well to follow suit."
Kian grinned. "Don't worry, I've got my own standards." His tone was light, but his focus was razor-sharp as he prepared for the next wave.
One of the Eye mages, seeing their comrades fall so quickly, growled and raised his hand, calling forth a large, dark creature made of smoke and shadow. Its eyes gleamed with malevolence, and it let out a bone-chilling roar as it lunged towards them.
Kian squared his shoulders, cracking his knuckles. "This one's mine." He focused his mana, feeling the raw energy pulse through his veins as he summoned it to his fists.
"Force Magic: Normal Contact Force!" His hands glowed with a brilliant blue light, charged with concentrated mana. As the shadow creature lunged, he met it head-on, delivering a crushing punch that sent it reeling. The creature dissipated in an explosion of shadow and mana, vanishing as quickly as it had appeared.
"Impressive," Nozel commented, watching the display with a hint of approval.
But their battle wasn't over yet. One final mage, a hooded figure with a twisted grin, stepped forward, his grimoire floating beside him. "You're both strong, I'll give you that," he said, his voice dripping with malice. "But let's see how you handle this."
The mage's aura darkened, and a dark mist began to seep from his grimoire, taking the shape of writhing, shadowy tendrils. They snaked through the air, reaching towards Kian and Nozel, attempting to ensnare them both.
Nozel's eyes narrowed as he assessed the threat. He raised his hand, summoning a surge of mercury that formed into a swirling vortex around him. "Mercury Magic: Silver Vortex!"
The mercury spiralled out, slicing through the shadowy tendrils and dispersing them. But the dark mage merely laughed, his grin widening. "Futile! As long as I breathe, the shadows will never cease!"
Kian, sensing the seriousness of the threat, clenched his fists, his mind racing. "Captain, let's finish this together. Let's show him what teamwork can really do."
Nozel gave a slight nod. "Don't talk to your captain so casually."
Kian stepped forward, focusing all his energy. "Force Magic: Normal Contact Force!" His hands glowed with a powerful, pulsing blue light, the mana swirling like a storm around his fists.
Nozel followed suit, raising his hands as mercury began to pool around him, shimmering like liquid silver. "Mercury Magic: Silver Spear!"
As the shadow mage prepared to unleash another wave of shadows, Kian and Nozel struck in unison. Kian launched himself forward, his Normal Contact Force crashing into the mage's defences with a force that shattered the air around them, while Nozel's Silver Spear surged forward, the mercury transforming into sharp, deadly lances that pierced through the mage's barrier.
The combined force of their attacks overwhelmed the shadow mage, and with a final, agonised scream, he was engulfed by the surge of magic, his form disintegrating under the sheer power of their combined assault.
When the dust finally settled, Kian and Nozel stood side by side, victorious amidst the ruins of the battlefield. They exchanged a glance, a silent acknowledgment of their combined strength.
"Not bad, my Captain," Kian said, smirking.
Nozel's lips twitched into the faintest hint of a smile. "Likewise."
…
Dorothy's entry had shifted the entire momentum of the battle. Lars could barely comprehend what was happening as the pastel mist enveloped the battlefield, replacing the burning heat with an almost tranquil coldness. He slumped slightly, feeling a strange calm. His fatigue began to lessen as if he were slipping into a dream. But Fana, despite her own exhaustion, was brimming with fierce determination, her eyes ablaze with defiance.
As Fana struggled against the mist, she sensed an odd resistance to her magic. It was subtle at first, but soon became an overwhelming suppression, stifling the ferocity of her flames and dulling the raw power of the Salamander. It was as if her magic was being wrapped in a silken cocoon, softening its intensity.
Dorothy's voice echoed softly, her tone gentle but resolute. "You're in Glamour World now, Fana. Your power can't control anything here." Her voice was calm, almost soothing, yet held a steely undercurrent. "You may have gained strength and new allies, but this world bends only to my will."
Fana glared at Dorothy through the dreamlike haze. "My allies aren't new," she muttered. She reached out, calling on the Salamander to unleash another attack, but the fire spirit's form flickered, its flames weakening in the otherworldly realm. The Salamander let out a frustrated roar, shaking its head as if struggling against some unseen force pulling it to sleep.
With each second, the dreamlike atmosphere became thicker, heavier. Fana felt her strength drain, her body swaying slightly as her eyelids grew heavier. She knew Dorothy's power all too well from her days as a Coral Peacock. This world was a trap, meant to lull any who entered into an eternal sleep.
"Damn it!" Fana spat, forcing her mind to stay sharp. "I don't care if it's your world or not—I'll burn it to ashes!" She drew a deep breath, summoning the last remnants of her strength. "Fire Spirit Magic: Salamander's Fury!"
The Salamander roared as its form grew, doubling in size, its flames burning hotter and brighter than ever before. The flames grew so intense that they began cutting through the mist, scattering Dorothy's illusions in their wake. The mist trembled, thinning slightly, and Fana smirked, seeing a glimpse of her own strength returning.
Dorothy watched her with an amused yet slightly concerned expression, her lips curling into a slight smile. "You're certainly as resilient as ever, Fana. But even the mightiest flames are merely embers here." She raised her hand, and the mist thickened once more, swirling around the Salamander in a continuous flow. The fire spirit's form began to fade as the mist closed in, swallowing the flames like a dream that slips from memory upon waking.
Fana's smirk faded, replaced by a deep scowl as she realized her efforts were futile in this domain. No matter how much power she poured into her spells, the dreamlike haze stifled them, leaving her weakened and vulnerable. She gritted her teeth, fighting the drowsiness pulling at her senses, her breaths coming in shallow gasps as her vision blurred.
Dorothy's voice softened, almost compassionate. "There's no need to fight any longer, Fana. You're exhausted. Just let go and rest."
But Fana refused to give in. She took a step forward, her eyes filled with fierce determination. "I'll never surrender… not to you… not to anyone!" She summoned the Salamander once more, but it struggled to maintain its form, flickering like a dying ember within the thickening mist.
As she took another step, her vision wavered, and for a brief moment, she thought she saw something—a memory from her past. She saw herself standing alongside Dorothy and the other Coral Peacocks. The others were laughing, sharing stories and dreams.
Dorothy noticed the flicker of hesitation in Fana's gaze, her own expression softening. "You remember, don't you?" she said gently. "We were once comrades… friends. You don't have to keep fighting like this."
Then Fana saw another memory. It was a burning wedding, the bodies of elves scattered everywhere.
She straightened, her expression hardening once more as she locked eyes with Dorothy, her determination rekindled. "No more tricks, Dorothy. I have a purpose, and nothing will stop me."
Dorothy sighed, her gaze filled with sadness and understanding. She knew Fana's resolve was unbreakable, yet she couldn't allow her former subordinate to continue on this path of destruction.
"Then I'll make sure you rest, at least for a while," Dorothy said softly. She raised her hand, and the dreamscape shifted once more. The floating orbs around Fana began to glow, casting a soothing, hypnotic light that filled her with a strange calmness. Her body grew heavy, her eyelids drooping as the weight of sleep pressed down on her.
But just as Fana felt herself slipping into unconsciousness, a spark of defiance flared within her. She gritted her teeth, fighting against the lull of Dorothy's magic. "No… I won't fall here!"
With a desperate burst of energy, she summoned the Salamander one final time. Its form blazed with renewed strength, its flames raging against the mist as it let out a defiant roar. Fana's body trembled, her limbs shaking from the strain, but she held her ground, pouring everything she had into this final stand.
Dorothy watched in awe and sorrow, recognizing the strength and determination in Fana's eyes. It was a strength she once admired, but now it was directed against her.
"Fana…" Dorothy whispered, a hint of regret in her voice.
But just as Fana's flames seemed to cut through the dreamscape, Lars's discarded naginata caught her attention. Embedded in its hilt was a small, shimmering stone—a relic Dorothy had given Lars, imbued with a fragment of her magic. It pulsed faintly, reacting to Fana's presence.
A spark of realisation dawned on Fana's face. She staggered toward the naginata, her gaze fixed on the stone. With trembling hands, she tore it free from the weapon's hilt, holding it up triumphantly.
Dorothy's serene expression shattered into shock. "No!"
The dreamscape trembled as Fana clutched the stone, feeling its power surge through her. She smirked, her voice filled with dark satisfaction. "You may control this realm, but you still can't stop what I've taken. This is goodbye, Dorothy Unsworth."
Before Dorothy could react, Fana activated an old exit from Glamour World—a backdoor Dorothy had shown her long ago, when they were still comrades. In an instant, Fana vanished, leaving Dorothy standing alone in the dissolving dreamscape.
The pastel mist dissipated, revealing the familiar battlefield once more. Lars lay on the ground, unconscious, while Yul supported him, looking around in confusion as the dream world faded.
Dorothy remained still, her expression unreadable, staring at the empty space where Fana had stood moments before. Her fingers clenched tightly, frustration and sorrow flickering in her eyes.
In the distance, a faint trail of smoke marked the spot where Fana had disappeared with her prize.
"I'm sorry, Lars…" Dorothy murmured, her gaze filled with regret. She knelt beside him, her hands glowing softly as she checked his pulse. He was breathing, his face serene, as if caught in a peaceful dream.
But then she noticed a faint smile tugging at his lips, and her heart skipped a beat.
"Oh no!" she exclaimed, a hint of panic in her voice. "Did I accidentally put him to sleep with Glamour World?"
Yul chuckled, giving Dorothy a reassuring smile. "Knowing Lars, he's probably just taking a well-earned nap. He'll be fine."
…
Frida Mertens let out an exasperated groan, her patience long gone. "I'm so tired of fighting fodder!" Her voice rang out across the battlefield, frustration bubbling to the surface as she stood atop a pile of fallen enemies, her posture graceful despite her annoyance. The elegant Silver Eagles mage flicked a lock of her long brown hair with purple highlights over her shoulder, her blue eyes shimmering with both weariness and impatience.
From the distance, another group of low-level mages charged toward her, their spells crackling with energy as they hurled elemental attacks in her direction. Frida sighed, unimpressed. "Honestly, you'd think they'd at least send someone interesting by now."
With a flick of her wrist, the amethyst crystals shot forward like arrows, piercing through the air with pinpoint precision. The charging mages barely had time to react before their attacks were intercepted, the crystals shattering their spells mid-flight and slamming into them with enough force to send them sprawling.
Frida didn't even blink as she turned her gaze to the horizon, scanning for something—anything—that might actually pose a challenge. The battlefield stretched out before her, littered with defeated enemies, but none of them had given her the satisfaction of a real fight. She had been moving through the waves of adversaries with mechanical efficiency, but her mind was elsewhere.
Her thoughts flicked briefly to her brother Lars. He always found a way to make things more interesting. An annoyed smile tugged at her lips as she imagined him in some grand confrontation, undoubtedly causing chaos in his own way. He'd never settle for fighting the weaklings, as annoying as it is to say. He's a Mertens, and we have standards.
"Where's the real threat?" Frida said aloud, her tone sharp with impatience. She raised her arm, and the amethyst crystals swirling around her formed into a long, elegant spear. The weapon shimmered with a regal glow, reflecting her own refined nature. "I didn't come here to babysit these second-rate mages."
Suddenly, she heard a male yell. It was that steel Coral Peacocks mage.
She'd heard about him in one of the gloating letters Lars wrote to her. It had started as an exchange between them about Lars taunting Frida, a day after he joined the Coral Peacocks, just before he'd set out on his first mission. This furious letter-writing marathon between the siblings had continued for the next two weeks.
Hold on, Frida thought. Hadn't he gotten kidnapped?
AND WAS HE HOLDING LARS OVER HIS SHOULDERS?
"Hey! Mertens girl!" Yul yelled. "From what I hear, the attack is nearly over, so I need you to take Lars over here to the infirmary, before he kills himself from exhaustion!"
Frida said nothing, instead grabbing Lars from the scruff of his neck, and jumping, using Glissando to leave. "If anyone's gonna kill that idiot, it's gonna be me!"
A/N: Sorry if there are some inconsistencies with Fana's backstory. I slightly changed it because she's an infiltrator of the Coral Peacocks now.
Should I make an AO3 account and cross post the story there?