Chapter 87: Frida's Right Eye
"Zoe, you're to engage Klaus," Lars said. "I'd like to assume that he'll be defending the crystal, and apart from me, you have the most firepower. To break through his steel magic isn't going to be easy, but I have faith that you can do it."
"No worries, Mertens," Zoe smirked, straightening up slightly.
"Cara," Lars said, snapping her back to attention, "your fight is with Luck. For Zoe to be able to safely destroy the crystal, Luck needs to be taken out of the equation. He's too much of a catalyst for chaos to be left unchecked. He's someone who matches your wildness, so this should be the perfect challenge for you to draw out Celestial Convergence."
"Yayy! Someone actually exciting!" Cara cheered, high fiving a less enthused Cade.
"And Cade," Lars said with finality, turning to the final member of their team. "I trust you more than anyone here, so if you feel that it would be more beneficial to you to take on Puli than defend the crystal, you do that."
"From what I can infer, it sounds like your plan is to take on Frida one-on-one. She's definitely going to be gunning for the crystal, so I'll let you defend ," the string magic user replied.
"No problem. Cara and Cade, make sure you support each other. Restricting Luck's movement will be very important, something that Cade excels at," Lars said. "That's the last thing I wanted to say."
"Then let's go!" Cara said, practically bouncing to get to the crystal. Zoe followed gracefully behind her, side by side with Cade, which she started to grow a bit flustered about, and Lars led up the rear, his eyes scanning for nothing in particular.
Though he hadn't said anything to his teammates, the message was clear. Give Lars time to fight against his sister.
"So," a voice said, snapping him out of his thoughts. It was Iskra, her almost luminescent eyes fixed on him curiously. "Are you still playing to kill?"
Lars didn't say anything, a shadow appearing on his face as his warm smile turned to a stony-cold glare. Instead, he walked into the portal.
…
"What do you want?" Frida snapped at Kirsch and Anastacia, both of whom looked very worried for her. They were near the portal in the spectator box leading to the battlefield, and Kirsch had used a flowery hand to pull her aside to talk with him and her childhood friend - not just as Vice Captains, but as friends worried for her.
"You are going down a most unbeautiful path, my dear Frida," Kirsch said, but there were no flowery gestures, or over exaggerated words. Just a cold finality in his voice laced with the warmth of worry. "Do not let your hate consume you, lest there be nothing left of you."
Kirsch crossed his arms, leaning against the wall with an unusual lack of his typical flamboyance. His eyes darted nervously between Anastacia and Frida, who were already at odds without even speaking. The older woman, tall and composed with her platinum hair tied neatly back, was the picture of restraint. Frida, by contrast, looked like a taut string ready to snap, her icy gaze locked on Anastacia with a defiance that could cut steel.
"Let's not turn this into a battlefield of unbeautiful words," Kirsch began, his voice uncharacteristically soft but tinged with nervous energy. He raised a delicate hand as though to fend off the inevitable. "We are here as friends, not adversaries."
Frida's eyes narrowed. "Friends don't ambush friends before a match. What do you two want?"
"Frida," Anastacia said, her voice calm but firm, "we're worried about you."
Frida scoffed, crossing her arms. "Worried? About what? That I might actually win?"
"That's not what this is about," Anastacia replied, stepping closer. Her calm began to crack, her concern sharpening into something more forceful. "You're so consumed by this grudge against Lars that it's all you can see. I don't recognize you anymore."
"Maybe you never knew me at all," Frida snapped, her voice low and dangerous.
"That's not true," Anastacia shot back, her composure breaking entirely. "I remember the girl who joined the Magic Knights because she wanted to protect people, not prove she was stronger than everyone else. What happened to her? Where did she go?"
Frida stiffened, her jaw tightening. "She grew up," she said coldly.
"Did she?" Anastacia countered, her voice rising now. "Or did she just bury herself under her own bitterness and call it growth? You're better than this, Frida. You used to be a light for everyone around you. Now all I see is someone who'll destroy herself if it means proving a point."
Kirsch raised both hands in a placating gesture, his usual flowery demeanor entirely absent. "Ladies, please, let us not turn this into an unbeautiful display of animosity. We're here to help each other, not tear each other apart."
But the two women ignored him entirely, their emotions boiling over.
"You don't understand what it's like!" Frida shouted, her voice shaking now. "You don't understand the pressure, the expectations, the failure. I have to be strong—I have to be better! And if that means crushing Lars to prove it, so be it!"
Anastacia stepped forward again, her tone softer now but no less firm. "Frida, no one is asking you to be perfect. But what are you fighting for? What's driving you? Because if it's hate, you're going to lose yourself - and that terrifies me."
Frida's eyes widened slightly, the question cutting deeper than she wanted to admit. For a moment, her lips parted as if she might respond, but instead, she clenched her fists and turned on her heel.
"I don't have time for this," she muttered, her voice barely audible. Without another word, she strode toward the portal where her team was waiting, their grim expressions mirroring the storm raging within her.
Even Luck, who usually wore a manic grin in the face of any fight, seemed subdued. His eyes followed Frida carefully as she approached, his usual wild energy tempered by a rare moment of solemnity.
Behind her, Anastacia let out a heavy sigh, her shoulders slumping. Kirsch placed a gentle hand on her arm, his expression unusually serious.
"She'll hear us eventually," he said quietly, though his voice carried little confidence.
"I hope so," Anastacia murmured, her eyes fixed on the portal as Frida disappeared through it. "Because if she doesn't, I don't know if there'll be anything left of her to save."
…
"It's not like you to be late, dear sister," Lars said, with a raised voice full of venom.
"Just know that when all of this is over, you're going to be late to everything," Frida replied haughtily, "because they'll need to wheel your legless body everywhere."
Lars smiled, a grim smirk. "Just head to your crystal. Or I might… lose control."
He turned on his heel, and Frida did the same, her walk a poor attempt to mask her fury.
Half of my life has been leading up to this, Lars thought. I should be angry. So why am I so fucking excited?
"Team M vs Team O - begin!" the capital mage said, bringing his hand down to start the match.
"Go!" Lars yelled, and his three comrades scattered in two different directions, Zoe to where she could sense the most magic concentrated, and Cade and Cara to where they predicted Luck and Puli would be.
Lars took up a fighting stance. "Give it a few seconds," he whispered to himself, his eyes scanning the battlefield.
His sister, as he thought, wasted no time. With a snap of her fingers, shards of crystal shot from her palms, streaking toward her brother like a storm of jagged glass. The sheer force behind them hummed with intent, promising no mercy.
Lars stood motionless in front of his team's crystal, his naginata gripped tightly in his hand, its blade shimmering faintly with a coat of mana. He waited, calm and calculating, until the last possible second. Then he moved.
A sweep of his weapon carved through the incoming shards, sending fragments scattering like snowflakes in the air. His movements were fluid, deliberate, as if every strike was choreographed. "Predictable," he muttered, his voice low but cutting.
Frida landed in front of him, the impact of her boots kicking up a small cloud of dust. Her hand curled into a fist, and more crystalline shards formed around her, spinning like a deadly halo. "Still so smug," she hissed, and with a flick of her wrist, the shards launched toward him in a blinding arc.
This time, Lars charged forward, his glaive gleaming as he parried each shard with precision, closing the distance between them. Frida gritted her teeth and met him head-on, her crystal-coated fist slamming into the haft of his weapon with a deafening crack. The force sent a shockwave rippling outward, and Lars dug in his heels to hold his ground.
"You've gotten better," he admitted, his voice calm but edged with challenge.
"You think this is better?" she snapped, her eyes blazing. "You've seen nothing yet."
…
Across the battlefield, Zoe darted toward Klaus, who stood resolute near his team's crystal. His Steel Magic surrounded him like a fortress, gleaming plates forming an almost impenetrable barrier.
"Ink Magic: Piercing Shadows!" Zoe's voice rang out as her grimoire flipped open. Thick, dark tendrils of ink erupted from the ground, surging forward in a chaotic tide. The ink morphed into jagged spears, aiming to pierce through Klaus's defenses.
Klaus raised his hand, and a steel wall shot up in response, the clash of ink and metal creating a cacophony of groaning, splashing sounds. Zoe twisted her wrist, and the ink split into dozens of serpentine streams, writhing and coiling around the barrier in search of weak points.
"You'll have to do better than that," Klaus said coolly, his voice calm as his steel defenses expanded outward in a sudden burst, forcing Zoe to leap back.
"Oh, I intend to," she replied with a sly grin, already reforming her ink.
Meanwhile, Cara's laughter echoed across the battlefield as she clashed with Luck. The Beast Magic user's mana claws slashed through the air with wild abandon, meeting Luck's own claws in a symphony of chaos. Sparks and dust flew with each strike, their energy so volatile it seemed the ground itself trembled beneath them.
"You're amazing!" Cara shouted, her voice brimming with exhilaration.
Luck's grin widened, his wild eyes flashing with excitement. "You're not so bad yourself! Let's see how much fun we can have!"
Cara lunged, her beastly limbs elongating mid-strike, but Luck dodged effortlessly, his movements erratic and lightning-fast. In return, he unleashed a burst of lightning, which Cara narrowly avoided by shifting into a beastly sprint.
Every blow they exchanged was raw, untamed, and unrelenting - both enjoying this far too much.
Not far from them, Cade's approach was far quieter. The string mage moved with measured precision, his magic weaving unseen threads into the battlefield. The subtle strands shimmered faintly in the light, vibrating ever so slightly as they absorbed the emotions flooding the arena.
High above, Puli hovered with her Feather Magic, sharp feathers orbiting her like blades. She sent a flurry of them raining down on Cade, who dodged nimbly, his strings forming a protective threadwork around him.
"You're not bad, thread boy," Puli called down, her voice teasing.
Cade didn't reply, his focus entirely on his weaving. Each thread tightened and pulsed with the emotions of the combatants, their energy feeding into his growing arsenal.
As Puli launched another wave of feathers, Cade made his move. With a sharp tug on his threads, the air itself seemed to shift, an invisible pull disrupting the feathers' trajectory and forcing her to retreat to a safer height.
"You won't shake me that easily," Cade murmured to himself, his eyes narrowing as he tightened his grip on the battlefield's emotions.
…
Frida and Lars leapt away from their clash. Lars raised his hands. "Celestial Mind Magic: Mana Zone - Königlich Gedankenreich!"
The pink terrain extended all over the battlefield, wisps of mind energy crackling at the Mertens siblings' feet.
"No matter how many support spells you cast, it won't work on m-" Frida yelled, rushing at Lars, but then she stopped.
Lars wasn't there. The crystal that she had seen a few seconds ago wasn't there.
Subtly, her whole world began to shift, unravelling at the seams. Everything fell apart. Up became down, left became right, inside became outside. She could see smells, hear colours, taste sounds.
"Logic and fate itself are inverted," a voice rang out from a direction that she couldn't pinpoint. She barely recognised it as her brothers, and he spoke again. "This is the true principle of a spell I really should use more - Virtual Insanity."
"W-what… have you… done to me?" Frida said, staggering all over the place.
"Well, you walked into one of my trap spells. I had time to analyse that Xerx's arrays while he was working on them, and almost perfectly copied them, turning what our dear uncle taught me - Virtual Insanity - into a trap magic spell," Lars said casually, spinning his glaive like a baton. "Mental Chains!"
Pink chains sprouted from Gedankenreich, made out of mind energy from the surrounding environment, wrapping themselves against Frida painfully, making her fall to the ground. "I'm going to need you to keep still for a moment," Lars said, "so my plan can work."
To his surprise, Frida smirked, and began to cackle dementedly, like she had just discovered something groundbreaking. Lars turned back, with the crystal in tow, looking at his sister with utter disdain. "What's the meaning of this?" he said coldly.
"It's always the same thing with you!" Frida yelled. "Tricks! Tomfoolery! Deception! I've had enough!"
"Amethyst Crystal Magic: Eye of Wisdom!"
Frida's shaking hand reached her face, her manic grin widening as Lars stared at her, suspicion and unease in his eyes. She dug her fingers into the skin around her right eye. With a scream of pain and fury, her eye burst in a blinding flash of violet light, spraying shards of crystal in every direction. A glowing amethyst orb crafted into the shape took its place, pulsing with raw, spiritual energy.
Lars shielded his eyes as the battlefield was bathed in a spectral purple glow. When he looked again, Frida stood tall, her head cocked to the side, an unsettling smirk playing on her lips. The amethyst in her socket glimmered like a star, refracting the light into mesmerizing patterns that danced across the shattered terrain.
"Do you feel that, Lars?" Frida said, her voice calm but dripping with venom. "The resonance of amethyst is clarity, transformation, and boundless wisdom. With this eye, I see not just the battlefield, but the flow of mana, the threads of your intentions, the cracks in your psyche."
Before Lars could respond, she vanished. Or rather, she didn't move, but the Eye of Wisdom had already seen his next step, and her body adjusted before he could even think to act. She reappeared in a blur of violet energy, her crystalline sword slamming into his glaive with earth-shattering force.
Lars staggered back, gritting his teeth as the sheer weight of her assault drove him to his knees. He spun his glaive in a desperate arc, sending a ripple of mind energy toward her.
Frida didn't flinch. Her Eye of Wisdom glowed brighter, and she sliced through the attack like it was nothing but air. "Do you understand now, little brother? Amethyst does not just protect the soul—it magnifies its potential. It tears away delusion and reveals the truth."
She darted forward, her movements impossibly precise, like she was reading his every thought. Lars activated a counterspell, weaving layers of Virtual Insanity into the air, but she cut through them as if they were paper.
"I see through your tricks, Lars!" Frida roared, her crystalline sword swinging in an elegant arc. "Amethyst teaches us that deception is fleeting, but wisdom endures!"
Lars grunted as the blade grazed his shoulder, sending a pulse of spiritual energy that shook him to his core. He retaliated with a flurry of mind chains, but Frida's amethyst eye glowed with an otherworldly brilliance, and the chains shattered before they could bind her.
He stumbled, the battlefield warping around him. He tried to ground himself, but her overwhelming presence pressed down like a tidal wave. Every time he tried to anticipate her next move, she was already a step ahead, her movements guided by the Eye of Wisdom's foresight.
Sweat dripped down his face as Frida loomed over him, her sword poised to strike. Her laughter echoed, resonating with the eerie hum of her amethyst aura.
"Overwhelmed, brother?" she asked, her voice soft yet cutting. "This is my transformation. A transformation catered to protect me against all mental attacks. The perfect counter for you."
It's time, Iskra's voice rang in his mind.
Where the hell have you been this whole time? Lars replied mentally.
I had some…business to take care of, the intellect celestial replied.
"Funny you should talk about transformations," Lars said. He acrobatically leapt up, kicking his sister back in the process. "Celestial Convergence!"
With a flash of pink and gold light, Lars activated his transformation, Iskra's power assimilating into his body. His glaive's blade turned white, and from the black handle erupted wisps of mind energy. The intricate owl carving glowed pink.
"Celestial Mind Magic: Stratagem of a True Genius!" Lars yelled, sending the blast straight at Frida. The amethyst magic user didn't flinch, however. With a beautiful upwards swing of her Hannibal's Blade, she cut straight through the beam and rushed at Lars again, her Eye of Wisdom gleaming.
The resounding impact of their blows echoed through the air, somehow as mechanical and calculated as clockwork but still brimming with emotion - the pain that they had caused each other over the years finally boiling over as they kicked their duel up a notch.
Lars swung his glaive towards her side, but Frida quickly summoned amethyst shards to reinforce herself, a clanging sound vibrating in their ears as the blade bounced off of her midriff, leaving him exposed as Frida grabbed him in the face with a large Hand of Caesar, flipping him and using the crystal hand to drag him through the mud.
Lars retaliated with Grand Catharsis, eviscerating the crystal hand into dust, but Frida was already on top of him, and with a mighty punch, she sent tremors throughout the battlefield as she clocked Lars into the ground.
He rolled away for a bit, then flipped himself back up again. It was his turn to go on the offensive.
Which spells won't work against her? Lars thought to himself, launching a pulsating Telekinetic Sweep at Frida, who slapped it away with her bare hand. Sternenblick, Splitting Headache, Brain Surgeon, Subjugation, Virtual Insanity…
"Amethyst Crystal Magic: Athena's Arrow!" Frida yelled, charging the power of the crystal projectile, which gleamed a brighter purple than normal.
"Mind Magic: Kraftvoller Gedankenstoß!" Lars yelled, charging up his own blast. Both of their eyes (or eye, in dear old sister's case) were filled with hatred for the other as they poured extreme amounts of mana and mind energy into each attack.
"T-those attacks… sir!" Marx, who was standing next to Julius on the spectator box, exclaimed. "Are they…"
"No doubt about it," Julius replied grimly. "Those two are planning to take this to the death. Get Dr Owen on standby."
The tension in the air crystallized as Lars and Frida charged their spells, their mana flaring wildly. The vibrant pink of Lars' Kraftvoller Gedankenstoß clashed with the intense violet of Frida's Athena's Arrow, their power illuminating the battlefield with a blinding light.
The spells collided with a deafening roar, the shockwave flattening the surrounding terrain and sending debris hurtling through the air. Lars gritted his teeth, pouring more energy into his attack as the pink beam strained against the growing might of Frida's amethyst magic.
Frida smirked, her Eye of Wisdom gleaming brilliantly. The amethyst orb pulsed in rhythm with her mana, feeding her insights. Her voice carried over the roar of magic, calm and taunting. "You can't overpower me, Lars. The Eye of Wisdom shows me everything—every crack in your power, every hesitation in your heart!"
And yet, as her words rang out, her amethyst eye began to shimmer strangely. Mental flashes of possibilities - no, truths - flooded her vision. She saw a world where the siblings fought side by side, their combined strength unshakable. A future of peace, where bitterness had no place. A fleeting image of Lars, smiling warmly, his grudge forgotten, reached her like a whisper in the storm.
"What...?" Frida whispered, her focus wavering for the first time.
The Eye of Wisdom, impartial and resolute, had one goal: to show its bearer the wisest path.
And now, that path was not one of war, but reconciliation.
Her grip faltered. Lars' pink beam surged forward, shattering the violet glow of Athena's Arrow. The explosion sent Frida skidding backward, her amethyst aura flickering as she stumbled.
But she wasn't finished.
With a feral growl, Frida roared, "This isn't over!" Summoning her crystal magic, she created a wall of jagged amethyst, blocking Lars' next attack. Lars leapt forward, spinning his glaive with deadly precision, cutting through her defenses with sheer determination.
Frida retaliated with a vicious slash from Hannibal's Blade, its crystalline surface catching the light as it arced toward him. Lars parried with his glaive, sparks flying as their weapons met. The force of the clash sent ripples of energy through the ground.
In the chaos, Lars countered with Mental Chains, pink tendrils lashing out to entangle Frida's weapon. The crystal blade creaked under the pressure, fractures spidering across its surface. With a final burst of energy, Lars shattered Hannibal's Blade into shimmering fragments.
Enraged, Frida shook her hand furiously and lunged at Lars barehanded. He met her head-on, the two siblings exchanging a flurry of blows. Their fists, charged with raw mana, collided with thunderous impact.
"You think you can just walk back into my life like this?" Frida snarled, dodging a sweeping kick and countering with a sharp jab to Lars' ribs.
"You were the one who pushed me out!" Lars retorted, spinning on his heel and landing a backhanded strike. Frida staggered but caught herself, her amethyst eye glowing ominously.
"Don't pretend you're some victim!" she screamed, summoning a Wall of Jericho. The crystalline barrier erupted between them, forcing Lars to retreat. She shattered the wall into razor-sharp shards and hurled them at him like a storm of needles.
Lars weaved through the projectiles, deflecting the few he couldn't avoid with the flat of his glaive. "I fucking AM! And don't pretend you're some martyr!" he snapped, slamming his glaive into the ground and sending a shockwave of pink energy that scattered the remaining needles.
Their battle reached a fever pitch, neither sibling willing to back down. Each strike was faster, each counter sharper, as they pushed each other to the limits of their strength and resolve.
From the sidelines, Sharya watched, her usual confidence replaced by unease. "He's fighting like a completely different person…" she murmured.
Theresa, her youthful face pale, whispered, "I've only seen him like this before once, when we fought Yrul. He's... scary."
"Come on, Lars," Oda muttered, his usual humor absent. "Don't let her get in your head."
Meanwhile, Ximena cupped her hands around her mouth, shouting, "LARS! You better not lose, you idiot!"
Her words pierced through the cacophony of the battlefield, reaching Lars in a moment of desperation. Her voice, filled with a mixture of anger and encouragement, rekindled something within him—a fire that had nearly been extinguished by the weight of the fight.
Lars raised a hand, and his glaive came rushing back to him like it was a disconnected extension of his body.
He steadied his breathing, his grip on his glaive tightening. "Thanks, Ximena," he muttered under his breath.
With renewed intensity, Lars launched himself at Frida, his glaive glowing with golden-pink energy. "Celestial Mind Magic: Stratagem of a True Genius!"
Frida summoned another Wall of Jericho, but this time Lars anticipated it, dissipating his beam attack. As the wall materialized, he vaulted over it, using his glaive as a pole to propel himself. Midair, he unleashed a devastating arc of energy that cleaved the barrier in two.
Frida barely had time to react as Lars landed behind her, spinning his glaive in a wide arc. She ducked, rolling away and summoning a flurry of amethyst shards to cover her escape.
They clashed again, fists meeting palms, kicks colliding midair. Frida's movements were calculated and precise, guided by the Eye of Wisdom, but Lars fought with an unpredictability that even her foresight struggled to counter.
Their blows grew heavier, their mana surging wildly as they poured every ounce of strength into the fight.
"You've always looked down on me!" Lars yelled, his voice raw with emotion.
"And you've always been a coward!" Frida shot back, her voice trembling with anger and something else - regret.
"I've had enough of you!" Lars said, landing a punch that sent Frida staggering back, clutching her side in pain. The Eye of Wisdom worked its magic again, and Frida saw another flash, this time of her and her brother standing together - but they were in a dungeon, and they had pointy ears…
"What the FUCK are these shitty images?!" Frida yelled, holding her head, and for not the first time, something that looked like concern flashed across Lars's face. It hardened again, however, and he took the opportunity to land another punch, bringing her to her knees. Lars then used a Mana Skin infused kick to knock her away, sending her sprawling across the ground.
Then Frida saw her final vision.
…
The study was dimly lit, the flicker of candlelight casting elongated shadows across the room. The air was thick with the scent of aged parchment and ink. At the far end of the room, Ellion Mertens sat behind an ornate mahogany desk, his sharp features illuminated by the faint glow of a crystalline lamp. His fingers drummed against the desk, a rare flicker of impatience breaking his usually calm demeanor.
Standing before him was a man cloaked in a dark, scholarly robe. His graying hair was slicked back, his pale blue eyes gleaming with unrestrained ambition. "Master Mertens," the subordinate began, his voice smooth and calculating, "I understand your frustration with the development of Project Phoenix."
Ellion's fingers stopped drumming. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk, his steepled fingers framing his calculating gaze. "They're too soft," he said, his voice cold and clinical. "Frida is obedient but stagnant. Lars is talented but unyielding, and a green fool. Their potential should have reached its zenith by now."
The subordinate tilted his head, the flicker of a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. "Softness, Master Mertens, is a hurdle easily overcome. The solution lies in the nature of human bonds." He took a deliberate step closer. "Turn them against each other."
Ellion's brow furrowed, a rare display of hesitation crossing his face. "Turn them against each other? They're my children."
The subordinate chuckled softly, folding his hands behind his back. "And that is precisely why it will work. Sibling rivalry is a potent motivator. If they see each other as adversaries rather than allies, their growth will skyrocket. Pain sharpens the mind, and anger fuels ambition."
Ellion's lips pressed into a thin line. "What you're suggesting is… extreme. They're not just tools; they're my legacy."
"Your legacy," the subordinate echoed, his voice dipping into a more persuasive tone. "A legacy that will crumble if Project Phoenix fails. Do you not see the brilliance in this approach? By pitting them against each other, you create a crucible. The weak traits will burn away, leaving only what is strong and refined."
Ellion's gaze hardened, his doubts visibly wavering. "You're proposing I manipulate my own children's bond."
"Manipulation?" The subordinate feigned offense. "I call it guidance. You've always wanted them to surpass you, have you not? This is how you ensure it. They will hate, they will fight, but in the end, they will evolve. Isn't that the essence of Project Phoenix?"
A heavy silence hung in the air, broken only by the soft crackle of the candles. Ellion leaned back in his chair, his expression unreadable. Finally, he let out a slow breath. "And what of their humanity? Their futures? What if they destroy each other?"
The subordinate's smile widened, his pale blue eyes glinting like ice. "For the love of science, Master Mertens. Their futures belong to you. They exist because of you. Isn't that reason enough to mold them as you see fit?"
Ellion's hand tightened into a fist, then relaxed. "You're relentless, Velcor." His voice was laced with reluctant admiration. "Perhaps you are right."
Velcor inclined his head in a mock bow. "I live to serve, Master Mertens. And who knows? If this succeeds, you may even consider that… magic-changing surgery you've teased me with."
Ellion chuckled darkly. "You've always been ambitious, Velcor. I'll keep that in mind. For now, ensure that the measures you propose are executed carefully. I don't want irreparable damage—only enough to spark the transformation."
"As you wish," Velcor said, his tone smooth and victorious.
Of course, Velcor did not plan to create reparable damage. He planned to drive the dagger as deep as possible, subtly manipulating Ellion, Victoria, Lazarus and Frida until the Mertens family imploded and collapsed into a million tiny pieces.
He hated Ellion Mertens. And he would make sure that he paid for his transgressions, by taking the thing he put the most work into from him - after building it up, of course.
…
The vision ended abruptly, leaving Frida gasping for air on the battlefield. The Eye of Wisdom dimmed, its revelations burned into her mind. Her hands trembled as she pushed herself up, her gaze locking onto Lars. For a fleeting moment, her usual arrogance was stripped away, replaced by something raw—something vulnerable.
"Lars…" she whispered, barely audible over the sound of their magic crackling in the air. Her voice faltered, caught between the truth she had seen and the rage she still felt. "You… knew nothing of this, didn't you?"
Lars, glaive in hand, froze mid-step. His brow furrowed in confusion, but his stance remained guarded. "What the hell are you talking about?"
Frida's amethyst eye flared, and she gritted her teeth, wiping away the emotion. "Forget it," she spat, summoning her mana again. "We're not done yet."
But her heart wasn't in it anymore - and Lars could see it.
A/N: warra revalation. but who is velcor? all will be revealed in the next few chapters.
by the way, i really wonder where that blood mage guy went? :troll_ger:
on a more serious note, please stop asking me to implement your ideas into my story. many thanks