Corvis Eralith
I probably passed out, because when I opened my eyes again, I was being carried.
Grampa's arms supported me, his grip firm but not urgent. His exasperated expression was proof enough that I wasn't in danger. No worry, no panic—just sheer frustration.
That was a good sign.
"Grampa?" My voice was rough as I flexed my right arm, searching for that familiar itch. Against the Tragedy.
Was it still there? Had I dreamed the entire thing?
No—I could feel it. The faint, pulsing resistance of the Ineptrune on my skin. My body was too drained to properly command it, but the foundation remained.
Grampa scoffed. "Ah, the mad scientist is awake."
I groaned as he pinched my cheek.
"I'm getting tired of worrying about you, Corvi."
"Ouch, Grampa—I'm still recovering!" I grumbled, shifting slightly.
That was when I noticed Tessia.
She stood close, arms crossed, glowering at me with an intensity sharp enough to cut.
"You're an idiot," she said, pouting.
That… wasn't exactly the reaction I was expecting.
I had assumed she would drown me in worry first—then anger. That was the usual pattern. Yet, as I looked between them, something felt different.
Their concern was there—but muted. Relieved, even.
As if I had crossed some threshold, had pulled myself from something deeper. Something worse.
My head screamed at me, my ears rang, and my throat burned like it had been dragged through fire and ice all at once. But none of that truly mattered.
I blinked, the realization cutting through me like a blade.
At first, in this life, I was afraid. Terrified to act, to move, to alter the plot beyond recognition. Then, I had become paralyzed—by my own lack of mana.
Even when Fate revealed itself, showing me the threads I was bound to, something had still been missing.
It wasn't power. Against the Tragedy didn't grant me strength—it gave me access. A siphon. A key.
What I had been chasing was success. A tangible, undeniable proof of my existence.
Training meant nothing when mages could burn, freeze, drown, electrocute, crush, or cut me alive before I ever got the chance to fight back.
I wanted mana. At all costs.
In truth, I had never accepted my manalessness. Not once.
I had told myself it was part of the grand scheme—that meta-awareness made me the perfect strategist, someone who could change everything from the shadows.
But that wasn't enough.
I wanted more. I wanted action. I wanted impact.
And until now, I had been too afraid.
How laughable. How pitiful.
Yet, despite the self-deprecation lashing through my thoughts, a smile curled onto my lips.
For the first time, I wasn't just watching.
I was doing.
And even as exhaustion overtook me once more, dragging me into the depths of sleep—I was content.
Cynthia Goodsky
I loomed over the latest Alacryan spy I had hunted down, my presence casting a suffocating weight over him. Ever since Corvis Eralith revealed the existence of a retainer in Dicathen, I had become far more meticulous in my usual elimination of spies, and in doing so, I uncovered a disturbing truth—Alacrya's grip on Dicathen was far larger than I had ever imagined.
Still, no sign of the retainer. Yet.
The spies Avier and I continued to track and eliminate weren't particularly strong—crests and emblems at most, their power capping at a dark yellow core for the strongest among them. Nothing remotely comparable to the monsters that were retainers.
But they were everywhere. Like vermin, crawling beneath the surface. Not just in the Beast Glades, not just in the outskirts of Sapin, but in Xyrus itself—right under my nose.
I had spent years watching over the students of Xyrus Academy, nurturing Dicathen's future warriors, preparing them to face the coming storm. Yet, without Corvis's warning, I would have missed the truth entirely.
Kai Crestless.
A name laced with irony.
If not for my newfound paranoia, I would have never uncovered the fact that an Alacryan was walking among my students, pretending to be one of them.
The academy I had built for Dicathen's defense had already been infiltrated.
I would speak with Virion's grandson again when he arrived in Xyrus in two days.
A part of me wanted to interrogate him right then and there—tear through his knowledge, demand answers. But Corvis wasn't just Virion's grandson. He was Tessia's twin brother.
And my heart—the heart that Dicathen had taught me to listen to—told me that would be wrong.
He was still a child.
No matter how much he knew, no matter what kind of insights he held, he was a boy.
A boy whose presence felt utterly normal—despite the dangerous weight of his mind, the unshakable knowledge buried beneath his skin.
Grey, however—Grey was different.
Standing beside Grey felt like being next to someone who had lived a lifetime no one could ever comprehend.
Not just someone raised among the Vritras. Something beyond even that.
Pushing the thoughts aside, I turned my attention back to the Alacryan I had left alive.
He flinched as I loomed closer, his body tense, the realization of his impending fate beginning to settle in.
My voice was cold, sharp.
"Where is Vechor's retainer?"
His eyes widened in shock.
Good. That meant he knew.
That meant Corvis hadn't imagined it. It was real.
Everything lined up with what I already suspected—but now, confirmation.
The spy snarled, his indoctrination flooding through him like an infection. "The Sovereigns are going to civilize the Dicathian monkeys, traitorous scum!" His teeth ground together in pure hatred.
Fool.
Trying to extract useful information from Alacryan spies was a waste of time.
They were not of named blood—they had no reason to question their blind faith, no reason to think beyond their programmed obedience.
Interrogation was pointless. A risk.
I raised my wand.
With a single wind bullet, I pierced his skull clean through, turning away before his body even hit the ground. Without hesitation, I looked to Avier.
"Next target."
We departed.
Blaine Glayder
I sat at the head of a long table in the war room of Etitsin's castle, the very place where I had assassinated my own father years ago. It was here that the peace talks between humans and elves had finally ended the Second War between Elenoir and Sapin.
And yet, today, I was here for an entirely different reason.
Not in my throne room. Not anywhere else in the grand halls of a castle that had belonged to the Glayder line for centuries.
I was here for a meeting.
A secret meeting with Dawsid Greysunders, king of Darv.
And the reason for this secrecy?
Because I was about to betray my people. My country.
I leaned forward, fixing Dawsid with a firm stare. "Have you spoken with Him?"
The dwarven king smirked, swirling wine in a golden goblet, clearly pleased with himself. "Yes, of course! I will serve directly under an almighty deity, Glayder." His voice was rich with pompous pride—as if selling out his own kingdom was something to boast about.
I clenched my jaw. "I remind you that you are betraying not just your kingdom, but all of Dicathen. The Tri-Union will be proclaimed soon."
I tried—tried to hold onto the last shred of integrity I had left.
But it slipped through my fingers like sand.
Dawsid scoffed. "Bah, Glayder! You are no different, am I wrong? The reason we are meeting is so you can accept the deal I am presenting. You know that."
I said nothing.
He was not wrong.
Agrona Vritra. A god. A force so powerful that he had been watching Dicathen for an unknowable length of time. An existence so vast, so untouchable, that even I—who had spent thousands of gold and elixirs just to reach the red stage—was nothing more than an ant beneath his gaze.
Still, I pushed back, my voice colder now. "The fact remains that we are abandoning our people to save ourselves."
Dawsid chuckled. "The deal isn't bad, Glayder. It isn't bad at all! Both our families will live, and we will serve under Him. Think of the gold. The technology. The glory we will have! Think of the power, the magic…"
He emphasized magic—knowing exactly where to strike me.
He knew my inferiority.
He knew how I envied my wife. My children.
He knew I had always wanted to be a powerful mage—to make my ancestors proud.
He knew exactly what to say.
I forced myself to ask, though the answer was obvious. "And what about Dicathen's citizens? What about the elves? About Elenoir?"
My first act as king had been a treaty with the elven kingdom.
And now?
Dawsid snorted. "The elves have always been too virtuous for their own good! And that old fool, Virion? He will never let Alduin accept His deal."
I stiffened. "And what will happen to them?"
Dawsid's expression darkened. "They will either suffer genocide or be enslaved.
A pause.
Then—"Nevertheless, the safety of my children, of the Glayder line, surpasses even the good of all humankind."
The words spilled from my mouth, carrying with them the final weight of a decision I could never undo.
I exhaled shakily. "We will accept your deal. We will prepare the Tri-Union to submit to Him."
And with that, the last drop of pride and dignity left my body.
Dawsid grinned. "Good. Perfect."
He set down his goblet, eyes gleaming with dangerous satisfaction.
"Now, I have to tell you His first order."
A cold feeling twisted in my gut. "And what would that be?"
What could a god possibly want from mortals like us?
Dawsid's smirk widened.
"Corvis Eralith. The Prince of Elenoir."
Tessia Eralith
The carriage door clicked open, and the crisp, high-altitude air of Xyrus City rushed in, carrying the familiar scent of the flying town.
I stepped out, my boots meeting the smooth stone of the drive, and immediately turned to offer Corvis a hand—a gesture he ignored, as usual, climbing out beside me with his customary quiet focus already surveying our new… home?
"It's… large," Corvis stated flatly, his gaze sweeping over the imposing structure before us. Large was an understatement. While other students, even nobles, shared dormitories, royalty warranted this.
A standalone manor house perched near the very edge of the flying island. Below, through the shimmering atmospheric barrier, the sprawling patchwork of Sapin stretched out like a living map, bathed in the late afternoon sun.
The view was breathtaking, dizzying even, a constant reminder of how far above the mundane world we now resided. Yet, it was undeniably practical too—a mere ten-minute walk from the bustling heart of the Academy grounds.
A playful grin tugged at my lips as I watched him take it in. The sheer scale seemed to momentarily stun even his usually unflappable demeanor.
"Oh?" I teased, bumping his shoulder lightly. "Is the grand Prince Corvis of Elenoir finally intimidated? Going to tell me it's all a bit too much for your humble tastes?" The jab was gentle, familiar territory between us.
He just rolled his eyes, that faint, almost imperceptible curve touching his lips for a split second—a victory in itself. "Let's just get a look inside," he deflected, already striding towards the grand entrance. "I have an appointment with Director Goodsky in less than an hour."
An appointment with Master Cynthia? My playful mood shifted into sharp curiosity. What could be so urgent right after our arrival? My thoughts instantly flew to the weeks before we left Zestier. The secretive experiments. The locked dungeon chamber. The muffled thumps that sometimes vibrated through the palace floors.
Grampa and I had pestered him relentlessly, but Corvis had remained a vault, revealing only that it involved mana crystals. Dangerous stuff. Very strange, indeed.
But then I looked at him again, walking purposefully ahead. There was a difference. Subtle, but undeniable. His shoulders seemed less perpetually tensed, the lines around his eyes softer. A quiet energy hummed beneath his usual reserve, replacing the faint shadow of frustration that had often lingered before.
Whatever he'd been wrestling with down in that dungeon, whatever explosive revelation had shaken the palace foundations… he'd succeeded. The proof was in this new lightness, this quiet confidence that hadn't been there before.
A warm swell of pure, simple happiness bloomed in my chest. He's happy. He succeeded at something important to him. That was enough. For now. As long as he was happy, truly happy, then so was I.