Chapter 36: Man of Science

Name: Oda Fullbright

Age: 20

Birthday: 14 March

Personality: Playful and laid-back, quick-witted with a sharp sense of humor, yet deeply reliable in serious situations. A commoner who is creative in his approach to magic and life, Oda enjoys pushing boundaries and surprising others. Despite his carefree demeanor, he's perceptive and loyal to his squad.

Strengths: Highly inventive with Spatial Magic, quick on his feet, adaptable in combat, and deeply loyal to his squadmates. He's got a knack for strategy when needed and excels at supporting and extracting his teammates in chaotic situations.

Weaknesses: Sometimes lacks urgency, can be a bit too relaxed even in serious moments, and has a tendency to avoid taking center stage, preferring to help from the background.

Favourite Things: Anything travel, bad jokes, strong coffee (always black)

"Open the portal, Oda," Lars whispered through his telepathic link. Him, Lucia and Madeleine had entered the storage room of the "merchandise" through a hatch in the roof, primarily used so that the residents of Sablesummit could defend the room at any order.

Oda, who was able to sense Lars's mana through the telepathic link, nodded and got ready to cast his spell, his dark blue grimoire flipping its pages. Currently, he was stationed at Team C's entry point, just outside the smuggler's base. He raised a hand.

"Spatial Magic: Distant Transmission!"

Lucia used The Empress to bind multiple crates together, and Lars used his telekinetic power to levitate each one into the portal. Meanwhile, Madeleine used her Sandstone Creation Magic: Scuttling Table to carry multiple crates into the table.

"Where's Myla?" Lars asked Lucia, brushing his hair out of his eyes.

Lucia started, and then replied shakily, "Um, s-she said something about finding a big fish to fry. I think she wanted to fight someone strong."

"Sounds a lot like her," Oda sighed through the telepathic link.

"Hey, Oda, I have a question," Lars said, an expression of curiosity which Oda couldn't see plastered on his face. "How did you and your aunt get so close?"

"It's a long story, which I'm not sure we have the time for-"

"Sandstone Creation Magic: Anubis!" Madeleine said, creating a half-dog, half-human sandstone figure. Its luminous yellow eyes glinted menacingly, and it stood guard at the door, holding a sandstone greatsword, pacing up and down.

"Anubis will buy us some time," Maddy said. "Now talk."

Oda sighed, and started his tale. "I grew up parentless. My father was nowhere to be seen at the time of my birth, and my mother died straight after having me. Her last wish was that Aunt Myla take me in. She's my mother's oldest sister, so she didn't hesitate to raise me as her own. She always insisted I call her aunt, though… out of respect for my mother. My real father never came forward to claim me so I grew up with her."

Lars had been listening to all this with a raised eyebrow, and now he cut in. "You had a rough start. How'd you turn out to be such a good person?"

"Lars!" Lucia chastised him. "Be more sensitive!"

"Oh come on! It's a completely rational question!" Lars protested. "People are made by their circumstances!"

"I know you need to make sure your boyfriend doesn't say something insensitive, but it's fine," Oda chuckled. "And Lars, I'm getting to that part.

Both magic knights addressed by Oda turned a deep shade of crimson, but Oda continued.

"My aunt may be brash, hasty, and have little to no decorum, but she's still a good person. We had little to no money, but my aunt would do odd jobs from here to there to keep us afloat. It wasn't much, but I was happy. We fought the people who tried to take advantage of us off, and because of that, a rumour spread. They started calling my aunt the Warrior of the Woods… because she used a wooden staff and wood magic. Then, Captain Jack came along, and the rest was history…"

As Oda finished his story, a faint rustling at the far end of the storage room pulled everyone's attention. Lars tensed, eyes narrowing as he watched the darkened corner. The flicker of torchlight illuminated a tall, thin figure stepping out from the shadows. The man was clad in a fitted white coat, his hair an ashen silver that matched his pallid complexion. His piercing grey eyes, cold and calculating, scanned the room with eerie calm.

Lucia took a step back, instinctively clutching her grimoire. "Who's that?"

Lars's expression darkened as recognition hit him. "Acroma… my father's former apprentice." His voice was tinged with a mix of surprise and apprehension.

"Ah, Lars Mertens," Acroma said in a tone so devoid of emotion it was almost mechanical. "It's been a while." He spoke with the kind of dispassionate efficiency one might expect from a machine, his voice a monotone drawl.

Following closely behind Acroma was a woman whose presence sharply contrasted his stoicism. Her hair was an unnatural shade of magenta, with two large ponytails on the side of her head, and her outfit was flamboyant—an oversized purple scarf draped over her shoulders, clashing with her red tunic, with her cloak draped over it like an Admiral's coat. She grinned widely at the sight of the magic knights, her eyes practically sparkling with excitement.

"Ooh, look what we have here, Acroma! A bunch of intruders, and one of them is your little acquaintance!" she chimed, her voice sing-song. She held up a small bottle filled with a silvery liquid, waving it theatrically. "Looks like we'll have some fun after all!"

Acroma glanced at her, unamused. "Restrain yourself, Maelys," he said flatly, his gaze returning to the knights. "I have no interest in theatrics."

"Oh, lighten up, Acroma," she huffed, rolling her eyes before turning to Lars, Lucia, and Madeleine. "Name's Maelys, by the way. You can call me 'the dazzling destroyer'!" She struck a dramatic pose, winking at Lars. "It's a title I came up with myself."

Lucia blinked, looking between Maelys and Acroma, caught off guard by the contrast between the two. "Eye of the Midnight Sun…" she whispered, her face tensing as she recognized the insignia on Maelys' tunic.

"An R leader and a member of the Eye of the Midnight Sun?" Lars clenched his fists, steadying his voice. "So, are you both involved in this smuggling operation?"

Acroma nodded, his face as devoid of expression as ever. "Naturally. It's an efficient way to fund research and procure resources that would otherwise be difficult to obtain. You magic knights simply got in the way."

"Typical," Oda's voice buzzed through Lars's telepathic link. "They're organized enough to bring in allies from all over the kingdom. This is getting serious."

Suddenly, Acroma's fingers twitched, and Maelys tossed a small, shimmering pill through Oda's portal. The pill exploded in mid-air, releasing a smoke that filled the magical doorway, causing it to flicker and destabilize. In seconds, the portal closed, snapping shut as the smoke dissipated.

"Damn!" Lars swore under his breath. "They cut off our escape route!"

Lucia grimaced. "So much for a quick extraction."

"Now, now, where's the fun in a quick escape?" Maelys teased, cocking her head as she smirked at Lars. "I'd say you look ready for a proper fight, don't you?"

"Cut the theatrics," Acroma interjected, his eyes narrowing on the knights with a dispassionate intensity. "You're not here to play around, Maelys. We have a mission."

"Always so serious, Acroma," she sighed, rolling her eyes. Then she grinned at Lars, twirling her grimoire between her fingers. "But he's right. I am here for one reason: to test out a little experiment. Tell me, which one of you has the most firepower?"

"Experiment?" Lars repeated, his brows furrowing. "Don't tell me you're using the smugglers to fund your twisted research."

"Twisted is a bit of a strong word," Acroma said, his voice devoid of any trace of offense. "I prefer to think of it as... productive. Every resource here has its purpose, just as every test subject has its role."

Madeleine's eyes flashed with fury. "So, to you, these people are just resources? All in the name of your so-called science?"

Acroma tilted his head slightly, observing Madeleine as if she were an insect under a microscope. "Precisely. Efficiency demands we view things objectively. Emotions are… irrelevant."

Lucia clenched her fists, her knuckles turning white. "You're sick. How can you justify treating lives like they're disposable?"

Maelys let out a giggle, thoroughly amused. "You magic knights are always so sentimental. It's kinda cute!" She snapped open her grimoire, its pages fluttering until she found the spell she was looking for. "Violet Lightning Magic: Thunder Chain!" she chanted, sending a crackling chain of violet lightning hurtling toward the knights.

"Look out!" Lars shouted, raising a barrier with his telekinesis to deflect the lightning.

The electricity splintered across the barrier, casting an eerie glow over the room as it reflected off the crates and metal containers. But Maelys wasn't done. She flicked her wrist, sending the lightning chain skittering around Lars's barrier, its serpentine shape twisting and snapping as it tried to find an opening.

With a flick of her hand, Lucia summoned The Tower, her grimoire glowing as a shadowy figure appeared beside her, raising a shield to block Maelys's lightning attack.

"Tch, you're good," Maelys admitted with a pout. "But let's see how long you can keep it up!"

"Enough, Maelys," Acroma interrupted, holding up his own grimoire. "We have work to do, and I don't have time for your diversions." He turned his steely gaze to Lars, his expression unreadable. "I never expected to see you here, Lars. I thought you'd be hiding behind your family's influence."

Lars glared at him, fists clenched. "I'm not my father, Acroma. And if he knew what you were doing here, he'd be just as disgusted as I am."

"Your father was an excellent mentor," Acroma replied, his voice utterly devoid of sentiment. "But he lacked the conviction to push science to its true potential. Emotions and ethics held him back. I, however, am unencumbered by such limitations."

"Is that what you tell yourself to sleep at night?" Lars shot back, his voice laced with contempt. "Your 'science' is nothing more than an excuse to harm innocent people."

Maelys smirked, throwing her arm around Acroma's shoulder in a mock embrace. "Isn't he adorable, Acroma? He thinks you have a conscience!"

"Indeed, I find his perspective… amusing," Acroma replied, though he made no attempt to shrug off her arm. "But we are wasting time. Maelys, neutralises the girls. I'll handle Lars."

"Ooo, finally, some real action!" Maelys beamed, cracking her knuckles as she advanced on Lucia, her violet lightning sparking around her hands.

"Lucia, stay on your guard!" Lars warned, positioning himself between Lucia and Acroma. "I'll take on Acroma. Just keep Maelys off our backs."

Lucia nodded, determination hardening her gaze. She called upon The Magician wrapping herself in a cloak of power-boosting mana as she prepared to face Maelys.

"Sandstone Creation Magic: Anubis!" Madeleine commanded, bringing her sandstone guardian to life again. The hulking figure of Anubis stood protectively in front of them, its greatsword raised in readiness.

Acroma tilted his head, studying the magical constructs. "Primitive," he muttered. "But intriguing."

Lars felt his blood boil at Acroma's detached disdain. "This 'primitive' magic is about to teach you guys a lesson." He readied his grimoire, power surging through him. With a flick of his wrist, he sent a barrage of telekinetically charged debris flying toward Acroma.

The scientist dodged, his expression unchanging. "Do you intend to throw debris at me till kingdom come? No matter."

He raised his arms, his voice still as cold as ever. "I don't believe in heaven anyways."

Meanwhile, Maelys cackled as she unleashed another bolt of violet lightning at Lucia, her eyes alight with exhilaration. "Come on, show me what you've got, card girl!"

Lucia gritted her teeth, manoeuvring The Empress to intercept the bolts. Each strike sent a tremor through her, but she held her ground, refusing to give Maelys the satisfaction of a reaction.

"Get ready," Lars muttered through the link, his eyes locked onto Acroma.

"Maddy!" Lucia yelled through the link. "I need some time to reshuffle my deck! I'm taking a different approach!"

…

Artemis' final push was met with all the resolve he could muster. His mind and body screamed with the strain of using the mana booster, and he knew he was reaching his limit. Every fiber of his being urged him to stand down, but he wouldn't surrender—not to a noble who looked down on him, who sneered at his strength as if it were something grotesque. For so long, he'd fought with the tools life had thrown him, with the magic he'd been given, and he refused to bow now.

His vines surged, writhing and twisting in intricate paths toward Kirsch, who still stood within his vibrant prison of cherry blossoms, his lips twisted into a smug smile.

But in that moment, a different look flitted across Kirsch's face—just a hint of something beyond irritation, something that came close to admiration, or perhaps even respect for Artemis' sheer resilience.

"Still trying?" Kirsch drawled, though the icy disdain was still there. "I would've expected a lowborn like you to know when to give up."

Artemis felt a surge of anger, fueling his last reserves of power. "You nobles talk about beauty, strength, and power as if they're all your birthright, like only you can decide what's worthy or not. Well, I'll show you what 'lowborn' strength can do!"

He thrust his hands forward, guiding the vines with precise focus. The vines twisted and coiled around Kirsch's cherry blossoms, tearing through them, thorns meeting petals in a battle of endurance. But it was more than just a physical clash of magic. It was the collision of ideals—Artemis' scrappy, stubborn survival against Kirsch's elegance and polished prowess.

Kirsch felt a pang of frustration; it was almost insulting that his beautiful magic was being marred by these grotesque weeds. He gritted his teeth, but he wouldn't let this commoner get the better of him. "Cherry Blossom Magic: Dance of 100 Million Cherry Blossoms!" he called out, lifting his grimoire high as he summoned a torrent of petals from every direction.

The petals flooded the air, sparkling with a sinister grace as they spiralled around Kirsch. He waved his hand, directing them like a conductor leading an orchestra, forming a deadly storm of flowers that swirled around him in a whirlwind. Each petal was as sharp as a blade, glinting with deadly precision. It was an attack meant not only to defeat but to utterly overwhelm—to shatter any remaining defiance Artemis might have.

The storm of blossoms closed in, slicing through Artemis' vines faster than he could send new ones to replace them. He could feel his strength waning, the effects of the potion nearly gone, and his own magic reserves dwindling. Every second felt like a battle against gravity itself, his arms growing heavy, his breaths short and shallow.

But just as he thought he'd reached his limit, something shifted within him. A memory flashed in his mind—a moment from his past, a time when he was just a young boy trying to survive on the streets, gathering weeds to eat, and being laughed at for using such "ugly" magic. He remembered the sting of those words, the jeers, the pitying looks. But he also remembered the resolve he'd built over the years, the sheer determination that had gotten him this far.

He steadied himself, ignoring the pounding in his head. This wasn't the time to back down.

Kirsch's voice interrupted his thoughts, smooth and mocking. "What's wrong, commoner? Are you finally realising the true beauty of noble magic?"

Artemis forced a grin, though his face was slick with sweat. "Beauty's just a fancy word for the world you live in, noble. But where I come from, it's strength that matters." He took a deep breath, forcing his exhausted body to summon the last remnants of his mana. His vines erupted again, stretching and twisting, forming a dense thicket that surrounded him like a fortress. They weren't as potent as before, but they would have to do.

With a flick of his wrist, he sent the barrier of vines surging forward, meeting Kirsch's petals in a clash of magic that sent sparks and petals scattering into the night.

Kirsch's gaze hardened. He could feel his own mana starting to wane, and the annoyance at this persistent commoner was mounting. This battle had stretched longer than he'd anticipated. It was supposed to be quick, a beautiful display of his superiority. Instead, this commoner had turned it into a brawl—a vulgar, unbeautiful struggle that stained the artistry of his magic.

"Enough of this!" Kirsch snarled, the usual elegance gone from his voice as he poured every ounce of remaining mana into his next spell. He raised his hands, his grimoire shining with a fierce glow. "Cherry Blossom Magic: Perfect Bloom Inferno!"

The cherry blossoms transformed, each petal now imbued with a brilliant, fiery aura. They cascaded forward in a relentless wave, crashing against Artemis' vines with blinding intensity. The heat was overwhelming, the petals scorching through the vines, reducing them to ashes in seconds. The ground shook beneath the impact, and a shockwave of mana rippled through the air, powerful enough to rattle even the distant trees.

Artemis felt the heat against his skin, the crushing pressure of Kirsch's power bearing down on him. His vines shrivelled and withered under the onslaught, and he staggered back, barely managing to stay upright. His own magic reserves were empty; he had nothing left to give.

And yet, he remained standing.

Kirsch paused, watching Artemis with a mixture of disbelief and grudging admiration. He had expected this to end by now, for the commoner to be lying defeated and broken. But here he was, battered, exhausted, yet still standing tall, his defiance unwavering.

Kirsch's scowl softened, and for the first time, a glimmer of respect entered his gaze. "You're resilient, I'll give you that," he admitted, his voice quieter, though the disdain was still there. "But resilience alone won't save you."

Artemis managed a breathless laugh, his voice hoarse but steady. "Maybe not," he said, standing a bit taller. "But I'd rather go down fighting than live in your world of empty beauty."

In that moment, he felt a strange calm settle over him. He knew he was at his limit, that he couldn't hold out much longer. But he felt no regret, no fear. If this was the end, then so be it. He'd fought with everything he had, and he would stand until the very last.

Kirsch watched him in silence for a moment, something unreadable flickering in his eyes. Then, with a slight nod, he allowed the cherry blossoms to recede, the fierce glow fading from his grimoire.

"Consider this mercy, commoner," Kirsch said, his tone softer, almost begrudging. "You've proven your point. But remember that my beauty will always prevail in the end."

Artemis smirked, exhaustion evident on his face, but a spark of defiance still in his eyes. "Beauty's in the eye of the beholder, Vermillion."

Without another word, Kirsch turned, his back straight, the noble air returning to his posture as he walked away. Artemis watched him go, the adrenaline slowly fading, leaving him feeling the full weight of his exhaustion.

As the moon hung high above, casting its pale light over the battlefield, Artemis swallowed a lump in his throat, thinking about the day he and his sister parted.

…

"I split up from the group, but… THERE'S NO ONE TO FI-I-I-GHT!"

Myla had been running through the twisted halls of Sablesummit for a long time now, the clacking of her boots against the stone floor becoming rhythmic as she sped through the building. Finally, she came to a stop, huffing and puffing as she leaned against a wall.

"How long have I been running for?" the middle aged woman groaned. "I swear, if I don't find someone soon… I'm getting too old for this!"

A/N: That was a lie. She would continue doing this until she died in battle or of old age.

Myla continued to run for a bit, until she came across a building labelled as Executive Hall. She was a simple woman, so executive=strong to her, a notion that was actually quite smart in an organisation like this where the powerful were generally the strongest. Myla kicked the door open.

"Which one of you bastards is gonna hurry up and fight me?!" she yelled, her eyes gleaming with a battle-hungry madness.

The echoes of Myla's voice bounced off the walls, ricocheting through the vast chamber of Executive Hall. The air was thick with tension, as if the very atmosphere was anticipating the clash that might ensue. She stepped inside, her boots striking the polished floor with the kind of confidence that came from years of training and a thirst for combat.

The room was adorned with opulent decorations, yet all she could see were the figures seated around a long table—nobles and high-ranking officials, each draped in silks and fine fabrics, their expressions a mix of surprise and disdain. The moment she stormed in, conversations halted, replaced by a heavy silence.

"Who the hell do you think you are?" One of the men at the table, a stocky figure with a well-groomed beard and an equally groomed ego, glared at her. "This is a meeting of the elite. You have no business here, commoner."

Myla let out a low chuckle, her eyes gleaming as they flicked from face to face, sizing up each one with barely-contained amusement. She cracked her knuckles, stretching her shoulders as if warming up for a light spar rather than a life-or-death clash. She was itching for a fight, and these pompous nobles had no idea what kind of storm had just blown in.

"Who do I think I am?" she echoed, voice dripping with mockery. "Oh, just your friendly neighbourhood commoner looking for a good scrap. Thought one of you noble types might finally give me a workout, but by the looks of it..." She tilted her head, sizing them up with a smirk. "You're all bark and no bite."

The stocky man's face flushed with anger, his grip tightening around the goblet he was holding. "You dare insult us?" he spat, getting to his feet. "We are not here for your barbaric entertainment. This is—"

"Blah, blah, blah," Myla interrupted, waving her hand in a dismissive gesture, her smirk widening. "I'm hearing a lot of talking and not a lot of punching. You sure you nobles know what a fight looks like? Or are you too busy polishing your fancy titles to get your hands dirty?"

Another figure at the far end of the table, a wiry man with sharp, calculating eyes and an air of cold malice, rose slowly, his gaze locking onto her. "You're an insolent one, aren't you?" His voice was as smooth as ice, but Myla didn't miss the slight flicker of magic at his fingertips, a shimmer of mana betraying his intent.

"Oh, finally! Someone with a bit of spirit." Myla grinned, her hands curling into fists as she leaned forward, practically vibrating with anticipation. "Now we're getting somewhere."

The wiry man narrowed his eyes and took a step forward, his magic growing brighter as he let his full mana pressure seep into the room, turning the air sharp and suffocating. The other nobles looked from him to Myla, some sneering, some watching with cold amusement, others backing away as if they didn't want to get caught in the crossfire.

"You're not leaving here in one piece," he sneered, the threat hanging thick in the air.

But Myla just let out a laugh, unphased by the pressure filling the room. In fact, it seemed to amuse her even more. "Oh, you really don't know who I am, do you?" Her own mana flared, the pressure of it raw and wild, an untamed force that filled the room with the smell of damp earth and fresh wood. The elegance was gone; this was raw power, the type you didn't just command—you had to fight to control.

"Let's skip the small talk," she growled, eyes sparking with a fierce gleam as she tossed her staff from one hand to the other, then gripped it firmly. "So, what's it gonna be, twig legs? You up for this, or should I start breaking this place down myself?"

The wiry noble hesitated just a moment—a moment too long for Myla's taste. Her grin vanished, replaced with an impatient scowl. "Guess I'll start." Without waiting another beat, she lunged forward, closing the distance between them in a flash. Her staff swung in a wide arc, and the man barely had time to throw up a barrier before she crashed into him with enough force to shake the walls.

His barrier held, but only barely, splintering under the raw impact of her blow. The nobles around the room gasped, some scrambling back as debris rained down from the ceiling. Myla cackled, pleased with the reaction.

"Come on, you cowards!" she shouted, her voice echoing off the walls. "You call yourselves 'elite' but can't handle a little action? Show me what you've got!"

The wiry man snarled, his barrier flickering back into place as he poured more mana into it, but Myla didn't give him a moment's reprieve. She slammed her staff down again, cracking through his defences, and he staggered back, panting.

"You should've stayed at the table," she taunted, breathing heavily, though it was clear she had plenty of fight left. "But no—now you're stuck with me."

The other nobles, now fully rattled, murmured among themselves, casting nervous glances between Myla and the wiry noble, unsure if they should join the fray or flee. But as her gaze flicked over them, she raised her staff, pointing it at each of them with a menacing glint in her eye.

"Don't worry—I've got plenty to go around. You traitors can have a piece of me!"

…

Lars crouched, bracing himself as Acroma's icy gaze stayed locked on him. The two moved in a careful circle, each one studying the other, waiting for the perfect opening. But in contrast to Lars's own crackling energy, Acroma's face remained impassive, as if he were analyzing an experiment rather than facing an opponent.

Suddenly, Acroma's grimoire flipped open, its pages glowing with a sickly green light. He whispered, "Alchemy Magic: Atomic Deconstruction." Lars barely had time to register the words before the air seemed to vibrate around him, particles of dust and debris lifting from the floor, swirling toward Acroma's open palms. With a snap of his fingers, Acroma condensed the particles into a spear, glowing with an eerie, silver hue.

Lars threw out his hand, his telekinesis pushing back against the force emanating from Acroma's spell. "Let's see if your 'science' holds up against real magic!" he challenged, flinging shards of metal and wood from the scattered crates around him.

Acroma's spear sliced effortlessly through the debris, dissolving each shard as it made contact. But Oda's voice crackled through the telepathic link. "Lars, I'm here. I'll open a portal for you—use it to flank him!"

Just as Oda's Spatial Magic spell, Distant Transmission, opened a shimmering portal beside Lars, he seized the opportunity, stepping through and appearing behind Acroma. With a surge of telekinetic force, Lars sent his Kraftvoller Gedankenstoß toward the scientist's back.

But Acroma merely smirked. "Predictable." With a flick of his wrist, he shifted his grimoire to the next page. "Alchemy Magic: Crystal Convergence." In an instant, a transparent wall of crystal grew from the ground, catching Lars's attack and absorbing the impact. The barrier shattered, releasing the energy in a concentrated wave that blew Lars backward.

Meanwhile, Lucia and Madeleine were fending off Maelys, who was practically buzzing with excitement. Her grimoire flashed as she summoned another spell, her violet lightning taking the shape of jagged chains that she cracked toward them like a whip. "You think you can hide behind that giant rock?" she sneered, her gaze fixed on Madeleine's sandstone guardian. "Let's see if it can handle this!"

"Sandstone Creation Magic: Anubis Shield!" Madeleine commanded. The sandstone guardian threw up its arms, forming a solid shield as Maelys' lightning struck it, filling the room with a deafening crackle. Sparks flew off in all directions, but cracks were forming in the sandstone.

"Hold it, Anubis!" Madeleine shouted, sweat beading on her forehead as she poured more mana into her guardian.

Beside her, Lucia raised her grimoire, her hands trembling as she focused on reshuffling her deck. A shimmering ring of tarot cards circled her once again, each card vibrating with latent power. She selected The Tower, channelling its defensive energy to form a shield around herself and Madeleine. But Maelys' relentless lightning wore down the shield, each strike rattling Lucia's bones.

"Nice trick with the cards," Maelys sneered, her face twisted in a wicked grin. "But you'll have to do better than that!" She unleashed a massive surge of violet lightning, which burst through the shield, forcing Lucia and Madeleine to dive for cover. Lucia stumbled, clutching her side, where a streak of lightning had seared her skin.

"Lars… a little help here!" Lucia gasped through the link.

But Lars was fully engaged with Acroma, whose crystalline alchemy constructs continued to press him. Lars hurled another piece of debris toward Acroma's head, but Acroma dissolved it mid-air with a mere flick of his fingers. His alchemy allowed him to manipulate matter with startling ease, his spells crafting crystalline structures that seemed to materialise instantly from the elements around them.

Oda's portal shimmered open again, and he called out, "Lars, get ready! I'll pull you out the moment he—"

But Acroma anticipated the move, his grimoire glowing as he chanted, "Alchemy Magic: Entropic Lockdown." A wave of greenish energy pulsed from his hands, destabilising the portal and severing Oda's connection.

"Did you think I wouldn't notice?" Acroma's voice was cold, a mere whisper of disappointment. "You underestimate my understanding of spatial interference."

Lars gritted his teeth, feeling a cold sweat trickling down his back. He tightened his grip on his naginata, charging it with telekinetic force as he prepared to meet Acroma's attack head-on. With a powerful swing, he hurled the blade forward, watching as it spiralled through the air toward his opponent. But with a flick of his fingers, Acroma crystallised the air in front of him, deflecting the blade effortlessly.

As Lars staggered back, catching his breath, he saw the flash of violet lightning out of the corner of his eye. Maelys had managed to close the distance with Lucia and Madeleine, and now her hands crackled with lethal energy, each bolt aimed directly at Lucia, who was barely standing.

"No!" Lars shouted, heart racing as he felt something inside him shift.

Maelys grinned, her eyes flashing with malice. "Oh, is that fear I see? Sorry, darling, but I don't think you'll get there in time." She raised her hand, summoning a surge of lightning, its blinding light casting eerie shadows across the storage room. "Say goodnight, card girl!"

Lucia's eyes widened in terror as the lightning hurtled toward her. But just before the strike connected, Lars appeared in a blur of motion, his telekinetic power propelling him forward faster than he'd ever moved. He threw himself between Lucia and the lightning, his grimoire flashing as he called up a telekinetic barrier to absorb the impact.

The blast sent him skidding backward, his boots scraping against the floor as he fought to keep the barrier intact. Through the searing pain, he heard Lucia's voice, weak but alive. "Lars… you didn't have to…"

But Lars's focus was entirely on Maelys, his gaze darkening with a fierce, uncharacteristic and almost primal anger. "Get your filthy hands off that girl," he spat, his voice low and dangerous, laced with a protective fury he hadn't known he was capable of.

The room fell silent as his words hung in the air. Maelys blinked, taken aback, her smirk faltering as she looked at Lars's transformed expression.

Acroma paused as well, watching Lars with the analytical curiosity of a scientist observing a new phenomenon. "Interesting," he murmured, though his tone remained detached.

Lars squared his shoulders, his eyes blazing as he held Maelys' gaze, unflinching. Every muscle in his body was taut, his magic power flaring around him as he prepared to fight with a newfound resolve.

In that moment, he felt a swell of energy unlike anything he'd experienced before—an unbreakable determination that pulsed in sync with the beat of his heart. And he knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that he would protect Lucia at any cost.

"Madeleine," Lars called. "Can you stand?"

Maddy simply gave a thumbs up, struggling to her feet. Lars still kept his gaze on Maelys.

"First of all," Lars declared, a fire in his eyes, "I'm going to defeat this trash. Then I'm going to take out the alchemist."

A/N: One certainly loves writing Lars crashouts :)