Chapter 2

Nostalgia

The morning unfolds before us, bathed in the sun's first golden rays. Warm colors paint the vast valley stretching out ahead. We decided to get up earlier than usual, not just to enjoy a light breakfast, but also to cross the most dangerous areas before the sun is high in the sky. Even if we're never in any real danger, efficiency is key.

Time isn't something we can afford to waste.

Still, there are moments that pull us out of that routine. Moments that, for some reason, force us to stop and take in what's right in front of us.

I stretch my arms up to the sky, almost out of habit, my eyes fixed on Reinhard. We're in a lonely valley. No trees to offer shade, no animals to break the silence. In a couple more hours, we'll cross a small mountain rising in the distance.

It's now or never.

A smile spreads across my face as I feel Reinhard's serious gaze on me, like he's trying to honor my wishes. Honor my wishes? It's funny, because what really drives me here isn't the desire to win.

It's not the thrill of just any fight.

"I know I'm going to lose, don't look at me so seriously," I say with a teasing grin, cracking my knuckles, knowing everyone in the group is watching me.

This fight has two clear goals: first, I want to test my limits, to see how far I've come with all the additions and changes I've gone through. Second, I want Garfield to understand that the only way to learn is by losing.

Sometimes, facing our weaknesses is the only way to grow.

Garfield, so full of pride, will have to face what's coming. He hasn't seen his own past, hasn't learned to accept it, and that must eat away at him. But we all go through that. Echidna's trial is just an easy way to confront the past. The real challenge is accepting that we can't change what already happened. We can't make things different, and we'll never get to see a past where our actions were better. That's where Crusch, Emilia, and even I have had to find our peace.

That's the real change.

So now, with everything I've got, I'm going to fight.

"Thanks for letting me go all out, it's an honor." I bow to him, then wink, adding a touch of humor, like I'm downplaying the challenge. "If I hurt you, I apologize in advance."

Reinhard, holding a small branch infused with mana, watches me silently. Emilia, on the other hand, gives me an encouraging smile, her voice breaking the quiet.

"Give it everything you've got!" she shouts at the top of her lungs.

"Don't let them beat you up!" Luan and Garfield call out in unison.

"Don't beat up the big brother, he's got to fight later!" Felt yells, and her tone playful.

With all that energy in the air, I focus. Mana flows through me, and I dive into the very essence of the fight. Reinhard, though, is like a void. I can feel his mana acting like a black hole, pulling everything in. Sneak attacks won't work.

He can dodge any blow aimed at him.

But not all is lost.

And I learned that from the story in the novel.

"Take this!" I shout, throwing a punch straight at his stomach. My wind mana gathers in my hand, building pressure. The air condenses and compresses. Every muscle in my body moves in sync with the mana, and my fist rockets forward with brutal force.

The impact sounds like thunder, so loud my own eardrums ring with the echo.

BOOM!

The punch sends him flying back. Reinhard flips in the air and lands on his feet, but I notice his clothes are scorched where I hit him, and his abdomen is red with the mark.

My smile is a mix of satisfaction and challenge as I watch him recover.

"What do you think? Did I surprise you?" I ask, feeling the heat of the fight rush through me. My hand burns from the pressure, but I don't care.

Reinhard, unshaken, looks at the hole in his suit, and his amazed smile says I've shattered all his expectations. I glance at Julius, who's clearly shocked, while Garfield just stands there, mouth wide open.

I'm sure no one thought of it, but the solution was simple.

"You hit the wind; you didn't push me. You focused all your power on striking the air," he says, stepping closer to me. "That thunder was just the result of hitting such high speed."

I shrug, keeping my cool.

"What I did was break the sound barrier, not attack you," I reply, walking up to him with a confident smile. "I'm not planning to touch you, after all, you can't be touched."

It's true. I'm not going to win. I'm not going to attack him the way he expects. But I don't need to. My mana flows like never before, wrapping around my body, heating my muscles, preparing every cell for what's next.

I clench my fists, feeling my heart pounding with excitement.

"We're going to have a real fight, Reinhard." I smile, gritting my teeth and channeling all my mana.

My eyes glow with mana, and my senses sharpen to the extreme. Everything becomes clearer, sharper. There's a slight pain in my eyes, but nothing else matters now.

"Then, it's my turn," Reinhard says, his tone leaving no room for doubt. In a blink, he close the distance between us.

I try to step back, but it's too late. Reinhard is already on me. His fist comes at me with shocking speed, but I can feel his mana gathering in his leg.

'A feint,' I think, lifting my leg to catch his kick. The impact is brutal, but I manage to try a counter. My hand is caught easily, and just as I try to break free, a knee slams into my stomach.

The pain is instant. My breath is knocked out, and my body seems to fall in slow motion.

"Damn... that was fast," I smile through the pain, spitting on the ground and bracing myself to get back up.

Reinhard could have ended the fight right there. He could have knocked me out with a single blow. But here I am, on my feet, ready to keep going. I don't have the blessing of the wind, or the same powers as Felt or Crusch. All I have is my body, and I've trained it to the limit.

"AHHH!" I scream with all the strength I have left, focusing my mana into an explosion of energy.

Boom!

A shockwave launches me toward Reinhard. The wind slams into me, and my eyes squeeze shut from the pressure. But I feel it. I can sense Reinhard's mana pulling him toward me.

Boom!

I throw a punch at the air and start to heat up the surroundings. Another one. Speed overtakes me, but I'm not stopping. My joints crack, but I keep pushing forward.

I open my eyes, and, to my surprise, blood starts to trickle from Reinhard's ears. His face is lit up by the crimson glow of pressure, but his gaze is fixed on my hand.

Then, I look at my hand.

"Haha, this hurts like hell," I grin, even as I feel my tendons snap, collapsing to the ground while Emilia rushes over, gently taking my hand in hers.

The pain is unbearable... but I know every second of this fight was worth it.

"Ahg!" I groan through clenched teeth, lifting my gaze. Emilia gives me a disapproving look.

"I told you not to overdo it!" Her tone is firm, but there's a clear note of worry.

Emilia's healing magic starts to soothe the burning in my body. I feel the cold wind stop brushing against my exposed muscles, and slowly, layers of skin begin to cover my ruined hand again. On her own, Emilia can only heal minor wounds, but her focus, her persistence, her tenderness… somehow even the worst injuries yield to her.

"I got a little carried away... but it worked," I say with a pained smile.

She sighs, pouting sweetly. At that moment, Reinhard approaches, struggling to keep his natural mana absorption in check.

He looks at me with concern, but a faint smile softens his expression.

"This battle taught me a lot," he murmurs, and I nod. I'm not the only one who's changed.

"Big bro is amazing!" Felt shoots me a look full of excitement, crouching down with a mischievous, adorable grin. "Will you teach me how to beat him up? No, you have to teach me!"

With her divine blessing, the fighting style I used today could fit her perfectly. It doesn't have the same effects on me, and her speed even surpasses sound itself. If she manages to make her moves more explosive… she'd be unstoppable.

"I'll teach you on the way, but today, I need to rest."

Garfield steps in front of me. His hands are clenched into tight fists. This fight was for him, too. I hope he saw beyond just power.

"It's not about how hard you hit, Garfield..." I say, looking at him calmly. "Real strength is making the most of everything you already are."

My smile draws a sigh from him. I can see something in his chest finally let go.

The following days, there's no rest. We train without fail. I focus on sharpening my magical sensitivity, analyzing what spells I can create to make myself stronger. It's not just about power… it's about precision.

I think about the greatest dangers.

Bullets can take care of a lot of threats… but the real problem is the numbers. Anastasia's mercenaries will have to hold back the hordes of mabeasts while we face the archbishops.

A single bullet can finish off Roy and Ley.

But Capella… she's immortal.

Shooting Wrath means dooming the innocents around her.

Regulus won't die until his wives are frozen.

Roswaal could be a problem if he shows up. And above all, Subaru Natsuki… he's got his own secrets ready.

As the carriage rattles along, a blinding light forces my eyes open. Emilia points excitedly out the window.

"Look, Marco!"

A breathtaking landscape spreads out before me.

A massive lake, so vast it seems to touch the horizon. Blue as the sky before a storm. And on its waters, a city floats in all its majesty: Priestella. The city built by the Witch of Greed.

I imagined it would be imposing… but this surpasses anything I expected.

The walls are at least twenty meters high. Keeping that structure afloat is an achievement in itself. There must be metias to reduce the weight, or a hidden structural base balancing the load.

It's magnificent.

I take a deep breath and squeeze Emilia's hand.

My worry for the future is clear. If we want to protect this city… these people… we'll have to make sacrifices.

I don't have Return by Death anymore, but my fight with Reinhard showed me I can still fight.

Even if I get hurt, I'll keep going.

Priestella's buildings are similar to Irlam's, but the city has a different air… like it's suspended in time. It reminds me of Venice, but more intact, purer. Magic has shielded its streets from decay.

When we finally step down from the carriage, Anastasia is waiting with open arms.

"Welcome to Priestella," she says with a wide smile. And with that, it all begins.

We know we'll have to split up to organize things properly, but first I need to inspect the walls. I need to understand how the opening mechanisms work and how to stop them if necessary. There's no time to waste.

After eating, I head out with Anastasia, Crusch, and Ricardo. Emilia and the others stayed behind to get things in order at the inn. I need Emilia at her best for what's coming… she's the heart of all this.

There's no room for feelings right now.

"Can you stop for a second? Not even in my wildest dreams did I think I'd see something like this," Ricardo mutters, scratching his head as we reach the base of the wall.

Several people are gathered. Among them, one figure catches my eye.

Golden hair, elegantly styled, white jacket, upright posture. Looks like a European noble, reserved and calm. It's obvious he understands the gravity of the situation.

Anastasia steps forward and speaks, turning to us.

"Allow me to introduce Kiritaka Muse, a member of Priestella's council."

Kiritaka bows formally, his posture impeccable, almost ceremonial.

"Kiritaka," says Anastasia, "this is Marco Luz. And with him is Crusch Karsten, general of the famous Irlam army."

I step forward, extending my hand.

"It's an honor to meet you in person, Mr. Muse," I say politely. "I've reviewed the details of the headquarters, and I'm extremely interested… but I've had to put it off due to current circumstances."

He gives a faint smile.

"That's to be expected. In fact, I'm grateful you made time in your busy schedule… and that you're risking your people to save this city. Just what you'd expect from the hero of Lugunica."

He releases my hand with another bow.

"As a council member, I sincerely thank you for being here."

Kiritaka and Crusch greet each other with respect. Then he pulls out a necklace. It's black... just like the one I wear on my chest, just like the one I've seen before.

"We're going to enter the internal mechanisms of the wall," he warns us. "Keep in mind that any contact with mana or sensitive components could trigger the system by mistake."

He watches us intently.

"The evidence provided by Miss Anastasia was enough for you to be granted access. But this is top-level information. It can't be disclosed."

The crystal he carries touches a section of the wall that looks just like any other. But the moment it makes contact, it lights up. A heavy flow of mana fills the air.

I heighten my magical sensitivity, and my suspicions are confirmed: it's gravity magic.

A portion of the wall begins to shift, revealing a hidden door. A cloud of dust rises, forcing us to cover our faces.

"Let's go," Anastasia commands, stepping forward with confidence.

We step inside.

The first thing I notice is a narrow staircase spiraling downward. And then... the sound of water.

The walls are hollow on the inside, but they're fitted with counterweight mechanisms balanced by flowing water.

It's a clever design... and beautiful, too.

The way water can flow and create a sense of buoyancy, I get it now.

Different mana sources are at work here, each serving a purpose, though I still don't know enough to say what each one does exactly. I glance at the mechanisms: lots of gears held together by lagmite plates and, of course, a central metia.

We climb up about ten meters, reaching halfway into the structure, which lets me study it more closely. It's roughly three meters in diameter; basically, a signal collector that redirects energy toward the mechanisms. There's a section without much fluctuation, which I guess is the receiver for the metia in the tower.

'I need to study it more.'

Interfere as little as possible, so it works as expected.

Watching Marco Luz so focused is interesting, but I've got my own reason for being here—my own duty. Anastasia Hoshin watches him with a smile; it seems like there's real mutual respect between them, which is rare for her.

I clench my fists as I climb the last steps with everyone, finally reaching the top.

I cover my face; the sun and wind hit me hard. And through the rays, the vastness becomes clear: thousands of people live in this place.

As a Karsten, I know the duty that's mine. Even if my name was stolen. Even if my relationships are forgotten.

Who I am isn't going to change.

I am Crusch Karsten. As long as I know that I'll stand firm.

"Marco told me you'd be handling the troop battle strategy completely," Anastasia says, stepping up beside me, while Ricardo stands behind. "The way you performed during the war tells me you're good at what you do, but there's always an air of mystery."

She tilts her head a bit, with that confident smile of someone who thinks she's got it all under control.

"I hope you can lead us down the right path."

I should probably bow, like someone whose authority has faded.

But...

"This is for Lugunica. I'll put all my skill into it." I smile, standing tall.

My pride isn't something I'll let go of.

She smiles back, looking out over the city.

I analyze the situation: possible mabeast entry points and the places that need immediate attention. The first appearances will be through the sewers, and through any flowing water.

"Station a tenth of the troops in the sewers." I rest my chin on my hand. "They're not fighting; their job is to trigger the alarm metias. That'll set everything in motion."

By water. By underground.

"The archbishops will get in easily. They have no paper trail." I close my eyes, thinking carefully. "Evacuations need to be handled by attack squads moving with the crowds."

Groups that take routes to get people off the streets while also making sure homes are secure.

"For the public announcements, according to Marco Luz, we need to use Liliana Masquerade. With her, we can lessen an Archbishop's effects."

From the stairs, Kiritaka appears fiercely.

"Putting her in danger is out of the question!" He strides toward me, glaring. "I don't know what you're planning, but I won't let anyone lay a finger on her."

His eyes are burning, but calm has to win here.

"If she's stationed there, surrounded by guards, she'll be safer than anywhere else." I sigh, pointing to the city. "You're a ruler. I can explain this properly, but you can't put one person's life above everyone else's safety."

When Marco suggested it, I was skeptical, too. But to contain that threat, we need to play every card with absolute caution.

"I... understand. But I'll be with her at all times, with my personal guard. I won't take no for an answer." His eyes hold no fear, only determination. That makes me smile.

"Thank you for your support." I nod, then move to the next point. "Mabeasts should be dealt with in wide-open areas. Having too many evacuation points is fine, but it'll weaken the overall plan."

The archbishops don't want the people. They're after the object Marco mentioned.

Still, it feels like someone else is pulling the strings. So, things might not go exactly how he explained.

Taking down the Archbishop of Greed is only possible with the help of Reinhard, Marco, and Emilia.

Only those three are needed.

But with the two Archbishops of Gluttony, and the deadliest—Lust—the only way is to split them up.

"Sending troops to face the archbishops is just sending them to die." I press my hands to the wall. "Once the areas are evacuated, we'll draw the mabeasts to our team."

Mabeasts are born from miasma, but they feed on it, too.

That was proven after the war: they desperately went after corrupt corpses before the living.

"Once the perimeter's cleared, we'll use liquid miasma to draw all the mabeasts in."

That'll concentrate the enemy's forces, but it'll cut down casualties by a lot.

"They'll have to fight in open ground as they approach, so Mr. Ricardo will have to lead from the front."

That way, the mabeasts can be contained.

"If the situation becomes unsustainable... we'll blow everything up," Anastasia's voice cuts through the air like a cold blade. She looks at me, masking sadness with reason, and adds, "If half a district must fall for the sake of everyone else, we won't hesitate. As long as no people have to die, material things can be replaced."

I swallow hard, nodding. Not because I agree, but because I can't afford to hesitate.

"Redistributing survivors among the neighboring districts is the only sensible move. Frey Karsten's squad will manage the exits and provide medical support."

"Garfield, Luan, Felt, and Wilhelm will face the corpses they'll bring with them." My voice shakes a little, remembering what Marco confessed to us. "Wilhelm... he won't be able to fight on equal terms. They'll use the body of the Sword Saint, his wife."

I lower my gaze.

"Marco insisted. Out of respect, we have to let him face her. He needs to speak with her, even if she's just a manipulated corpse."

An uncomfortable silence settles over the group. There are no words for what that means.

"Julius and I will take on Gluttony," I continue, voice more seriously. "According to Marco, our names might be erased... but he insisted on fighting Gluttony. We'll try to keep it one-on-one."

Once Greed is defeated, Marco will come with Reinhard and Emilia to support us.

"And Frey?" Anastasia asks coolly. "Will she stay as we agreed?"

I nod.

"She'll protect the tower's metia. But if she betrays us, Marco already has a contingency in place."

What that means is left unsaid. But we all know. She'll be declared a traitor. Her political life, her rights—buried for good.

The plan's solid. Calculated. Cold. But there's just one piece out of place...

'Marco Luz. Will he figure out the mechanism and stop the flooding in time?'

The hours bleed away. The sun is about to set. Everyone's moving now. Even Frey showed up, late, sure... but she showed up.

And Marco... he's still inside the walls.

My heart beats hard. Off rhythm. It's annoying. And I'm tired.

Tired of feeling.

Of wavering.

Of doubting.

Of having to look at him with fear in my eyes. Of remembering the exact moment, I thought about killing him. Seeing how he understood... and did nothing.

He just looked at me with sadness.

"Crusch?" Emilia's gentle voice finds me from behind. She hugs me softly, warmly, so sincerely. "Are you okay?"

I close my eyes. I stroke her hand gently.

"Yeah... more than ever." I lie, because I have no other choice.

The archbishops could attack tomorrow. Or maybe even tonight. No one knows. The only thing certain is that, once it begins, there's no going back.

I rest one hand on my sword's hilt. The other is on the hidden holster of my gun.

'I'll get my revenge... no matter what.'

From atop the walls, I watch the gates, the city, the streets fading into the dusk fog. I've marked every weak point, every hidden entrance, every trap.

A magical array covers the doorways. If anyone tries to tamper with them without permission, they'll explode.

But Echidna didn't design them. She admitted it herself: she was planning to improve them... and died before she could.

Still, I made one small but crucial modification to each of the four gates. Each one is powered by gears spinning in time with the metia, but the difference between altering them and destroying them is that the gears aren't properly protected.

'They didn't get it... and that was their mistake.'

The gears glittered under the faint lamicta light, while the internal water stabilized the pressure, their teeth perfectly shaped, synchronized in absolute precision. Any intruder would have tried to stop them, break them, force their mechanism... and would have triggered the protection magic.

But I'm not just any intruder.

My fingers traced the outline of the smallest gear, the one that looked so insignificant, just a tiny link in the chain of force driving the great machine. It seemed trivial, just a reinforcement, a support for the central gear.

A smile spread across my lips. 'But it's the heartbeat of the system.'

With calculated precision, I pulled out a steel saw—reinforced countless times but so thin it left no trace. Two teeth. Exactly two. Not one more, not one less. The protection magic scanned the gears, searching for faults, breaks, anything to justify its wrath... but it found nothing.

'The machine keeps working, after all.'

And then, the miracle of imperfection kicked in.

The mechanism stayed active, pistons rising, wheels spinning... but no longer with the same effortless flow. Now there's a gap, a tiny stutter in its rhythm. The water still runs at low levels, filling the chamber as it should—but not when it needs to climb. Every time the gate reaches a certain height, the damaged gear triggers a recoil, a hiccup in the system. 'It'll rise... fall... rise... fall...'

'I'll have to tease Echidna when I see her.'

Like a wounded heart, the machine fights to keep working, but it's not flawless anymore.

'The water will come in, sure.' My eyes follow the flow, calculating every centimeter. 'But it'll never drown us. It'll never reach a critical level.' Because now, stopping it is as easy as putting your hand in the stream.

The gate will be open, but tame.

'Perfection is an illusion... and sometimes, controlled chaos is the only key you need.'

The mechanism keeps turning, caught in its new, defective rhythm, while I move toward the gate. The anti-modification magic never triggered. After all... who said a broken clock isn't still a clock?

And now, as I watch the city on the verge of burning, I can't help but wonder:

"Will I ever see a world at peace?"

I press my lips together. I rise from the wall. There's no time for regrets.

I walk toward the inn. Every step echo on the cobblestones like the earth itself knows everything could end tonight. The city is beautiful. Warm. But frozen in time. As if it refuses to grow.

Just like this world.

Then, out of the shadows, a figure crosses to the other side of the street. Tall. Rigid. A metal helmet, a red ponytail, missing an arm. There's no way I'm mistaken.

'Aldebaran...?'

Priscilla shouldn't be here. Neither should Aldebaran. Yet there he is, a crumpled piece of paper in his hands like he's holding someone's fate.

His steps are quick, tense. He doesn't move with the caution of someone hiding, but with the urgency of someone searching for something... or someone.

I suppress my mana, blending into the shadows of the alleys. With soundless movements, I climb up to a rooftop, using the hidden vantage point to gain height. From there, I watch him.

He heads toward a casino. He flashes a card. The guards let him through without a word.

Too perfect.

I switch tactics. In seconds, I slip into a nearby shop and wrap myself in a black kimono, dark as midnight. I take out the communication crystal, and before I can second-guess myself, Anastasia's face appears on its polished surface.

"What the hell is this call about?" she asks, raising an eyebrow.

"Aldebaran is here," I reply, keeping my voice low but unable to hide the tension. "Move your people. Find Priscilla. This isn't a coincidence."

Anastasia frowns, the wheels in her mind spinning at full speed.

"Are you suggesting Aldebaran...?"

"He has ties to the Witch Cult." I watch her surprise. "I can't prove it, but his past is a black hole. You know it. Nobody knows his origins. Nobody knows why he's here. But something's moving beneath the surface—and it's not good."

"And what will you do?"

"Infiltrate. I need answers. Warn Crusch to be ready. They might make their move tonight." I cut the connection before she can object.

A deep breath.

I approach the casino.

The place pulses with energy, a temple of blinding lights and corrupted wishes. Two hulking guards block the entrance, sizing me up like hungry hounds.

"Card?" one growls, crossing his arms.

I shake my head gracefully, then flash a perfect smile.

"Gentlemen, I'm here to sign up for the first time," I say, bowing slightly. "I'm Haruto Minamoto. My family won't forget your courtesy."

Gold coins glint between my fingers. Their pupils dilate. They recognize the last name—one belonging to a city governor's family.

Greed takes over.

'Perfect.'

And now the real game begins.

"Would you lend me your help?" I ask with perfect politeness, handing the coins to the casino receptionists.

One of them takes the money and, seeing the coins, frowns in discomfort before handing me a temporary card. He scratches his head, bowing a little.

"My sincerest apologies, someone as distinguished as you shouldn't have to take a temporary card. We'll call the manager so—"

"I came here tonight ready to spend a lot," I interrupt, flashing three saint's coins between my fingers. "But I prefer to do so quietly. Among the people. I'll approach the manager myself... He's a good friend of my father's."

They don't protest further and let me through.

The casino is nothing like I remembered. The floor, polished until it gleams like a mirror. No machines—just cards, dice, gilded roulette wheels, and games I don't recognize. I expected it to be different... but not this much.

Casinos are banned in Irlam. But this... this feels like a perfumed trap. The air is thick with wine, incense, and longing. The waitresses are dazzling. The stewards, sharply dressed and dangerously charming.

It's a theater of masks.

"Handsome, a glass of the house wine," says a woman as she draws near, smiling while guiding me between the tables. "You look like someone new. Newcomers are always lucky!"

Her voice is sweet, but her smile is sharp as a blade. There's hunger in her eyes.

I scan the scene, searching for any hint of Aldebaran. Nothing. I sit at a table. Blackjack—a game that exists in my world too.

Only here, the suits are different: Dragon instead of Hearts, Sword for Diamonds, Lagmite for Clubs, and Knight for Spades. The face cards: Saint, Queen, King, and Sage. A game I learned with Emilia. The memory's vivid.

As I receive my cards, I heighten my magical sensitivity. I can hear the dealer's heartbeat. Calm. Too calm.

I need to get somewhere less crowded. If Aldebaran is hiding, he'll be where no one can see.

"Are there more private areas in this place?" I ask with a touch of disdain. "I brought three saint's coins, but being surrounded by this many peasants makes me uncomfortable."

The dealer tenses.

"There's only one private area, sir, but it costs extra..."

I smile. My cards are trash. I rest my arm on the table and look at him sharply.

"I'll pay... and something extra so your family eats well this week."

There's an uneasy murmur at the table—until I flash the coins. Desire lights up their eyes. The scent of greed is thicker than the wine. The dealer leans in, and the woman returns, taking my arm with a predatory smile.

"You're very rich. Miki likes that," she says, handing me more wine.

As I'm led to a private area, I pretend to be tipsy, but my gaze fixes on the dealer. I see him slip away, nervous. His words, though whispered, are mine.

"This man brought three saint's coins. More than anyone before..."

He goes to a tall, muscular man. But it's not his physique that surprises me... it's the ocean of mana I sense within him.

The man meets my gaze... and closes his eyes.

I crank my sensitivity to the maximum, but everything bounces around inside my ears. An isolation spell. No sound in or out. Only one way to find out what's inside.

In the corridor, the guard looks more like a steel statue. The dealer, shorter than me, walks ahead. I have no idea if Aldebaran is here.

But I have to find out.

I throw three Unseen Hands. Clamp their mouths. Use fire to burn the oxygen from the air around them.

Before they can react, I rush forward and punch the big guy. His jaw cracks and he goes down fast.

The woman collapses. The dealer barely manages to stay upright. I give him a light tap, and he drops like a leaf.

I have no concealment magic. No way to hide my face. If Aldebaran's here... he'll recognize me.

But that won't stop me.

I take a breath. Fire off two Unseen Hands at the door.

BOOM!

The doors explode. The room is laid bare.

I see him.

And time... stops.

My eyes tremble. My heart hammers wildly. His face has changed, but I recognize him. I'd know him even among thousands. Souls don't age. And his... screams out from his eyes.

'I never thought I'd run into him like this.'

"To see you here... after so many years," he says in a steady voice, standing up as the ceiling begins to collapse with a deafening crash.

BADUM! BADUM!

There's no sign of Aldebaran.

But that doesn't matter anymore.

"What are you doing here?" I ask, though the voice doesn't sound like my own. It's broken by more than just fear. By memories.

He stands tall. His skin weathered by time. Forty or older. An immaculate suit. White gloves radiating mana.

I remember them... all too well.

"I thought it was just luck... but no. It was fate. Bad luck for you. Good for me." His lamicta-lined gloves glow with a slightly different energy. "This will be the first and last time we meet in this world."

My hands shake, but I refocus quickly.

The silence in the room is like a tomb. Only my ragged breaths echo; if he decided to act, I'd have no chance.

'But there's so much I don't want to lose.'

I draw my weapon, level it at him.

"Die!"

BANG!

I squeeze the trigger. The shot cracks through the room... but he doesn't even blink.

An invisible whip cracks me in the chest, driving the air from my lungs. My boots lose contact with the floor. For a split second, I'm weightless, then I slam down hard.

The impact rings through my bones. The ground splits under my back in a jagged web, shards scattering like broken teeth. Pain crashes through me in waves, but the terror isn't the blow...

I never even saw him move.

"Someone tried to convince me I should make you suffer," he says, and his smile is a ghost of what it once was. "But I couldn't. We were friends. I know your survival instinct... and what you're capable of. Leaving you alive is a mistake others can't see... but I'm not like them."

He stretches out his hand. My gun rips from my fingers, floating to him as if pulled by a silent force.

"I always admired you. But now... I can finally rest."

I try to move. But there's no mana. Nothing. No Unseen Hands, no tricks, no escape. Even the air feels heavy, corrupted, like his presence alone bends the rules of the world.

"I am an Archbishop of the Witch Cult... the Chosen of Melancholy."

And it's that calm in his voice... that's what terrifies me most.

The barrel of the gun lines up with my forehead. With one last bit of strength, I raise my arm, as if I could stop what's coming.

The past I buried...

...has come back for me.

"John..." I manage to whisper.

BANG!

...

Silence.

Then, a voice. Distant. Cold. Far too familiar.

"I was too late..."

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Footsteps echo through the rubble. A figure crosses the shattered door.

My blurred eyes barely catch the glint of light on his helmet.

'Aldebaran...'

And then—

Darkness.