The Kingdom of Babylon, Year 385.
The Rose Witch Kingdom launched a military expedition into the Nephthys Desert. Though they dared not provoke the young flame deity who resided there, they circled the outer regions, targeting his subordinates—the fearsome "Poisonous Magpies."
These were monstrous creatures, their toxins potent enough to kill a Level Four Wizard with ease.
Under orders from the Empress of Death herself, the witches began a dark experiment:
"Assimilate the Blood of the Poisonous Magpie."
That very day, under the supervision of Fourth and Fifth Level instructors, the nation's witch apprentices scrambled to construct alchemical laboratories. Their goal: create various Potions of Compatibility. The undertaking was as dangerous as it was revolutionary. One wrong dosage meant instant death.
But they succeeded.
The blood's nature was vicious—only women survived the infusion, and even then, the side effects were... grotesque.
The women who consumed it transformed into harpies.
Their backs hunched, arms mutated into dark crimson wings, and razor-sharp claws replaced their hands. Their bodies oozed lethal poison, and their minds turned feral and aggressive. These mutated witches gained strength on par with a Level Two Witch—but lost everything else.
One day, Empress Medusa visited the alchemy lab herself. The chamber was filled with clinking bottles, bubbling cauldrons, and colorful vapors that curled into the air like serpents.
She studied the harpy trapped in a cage.
"So that's how it works," she mused. "The blood of magical creatures mutates the body differently. The Evil Eye changes the psyche and leaves us human. But the Slime's blood and the Poisonous Magpie's affect the flesh, not the mind—warping the body beyond recognition. These failures are twisted fusions of man and beast. Let us name them... Beastmen."
The harpy cried out, voice shrill with rage and sorrow.
"Your Majesty! You can't do this to us! We risked our lives for the kingdom, for you! Why are we being treated like animals?"
Empress Medusa gave her a cold glance. "Because you're ugly. And women—true women—have never been so hideous."
She turned her back and walked away.
Thousands of years later, "The Spear of Witchcraft" recorded:
Year 385 of Babylon. In the mountain citadel of the Rose Kingdom, the witches conducted cruel alchemical trials—fusing man and beast with dark potions. Thus, the first Beastman was born, a living testament to their cruelty.
Year 391.
In the Rose Kingdom, where women ruled supreme, slavery returned.
Society was divided anew:
Witches became the nobility.
Ordinary women formed the upper class.
Men were commoners.
Beastmen were slaves—stripped of dignity, used for labor and dissected for magical ingredients.
If a woman killed a man, she paid 300 Rose Coins.
If she killed a Beastman, half an Arrah (Babylon's equivalent of a horse) sufficed.
That same year, a new kingdom was born in the desert: The Nephthys Beastman Kingdom.
Populated by two main types of Beastmen, it served as the Rose Kingdom's primary source of labor and alchemical resources.
A dark and tyrannical era had begun.
Year 397.
From her throne, the Empress of Death gave a chilling order:
"Adeline, Fifth Level Witch, go. Take Babylon's throne."
Three days later, in Babylon's throne room.
Adeline, a beautiful and arrogant envoy, stood before Queen Lilith.
"So this is the woman who once fought our Empress?" she sneered. "There are eight of us Level Five witches now. You're barely a shadow of who you were."
Lilith gripped her scepter tightly, but said nothing.
"You've failed to meet your quota," Adeline continued. "The Empress is generous, but not indulgent. From this day forward, I will govern Babylon. We need more men, and I will ensure this kingdom serves its true purpose."
Adeline was elated. Her disciples had once discovered the Slime species—earning her the Empress's favor. Now, she ruled an entire kingdom.
Her peer ruled the Beastman Kingdom.
Failure was not an option.
"You want me to hand over the throne?" Lilith muttered, voice trembling.
The ministers around her fell into despair.
Was this the final death knell for Babylon?
Lilith's face twisted with emotion—shame, sorrow, rage—but in the end, she lowered her head.
"I, Lilith, surrender the throne..."
Her voice echoed throughout the land, amplified by Adeline's Sound Ripple spell.
"I, Lilith, surrender the throne…"
"I, Lilith, surrender the throne…"
"Your Majesty!!" Countless witches screamed in anguish.
"Our kingdom... has fallen…"
All across Babylon, witches collapsed in despair, their wands slipping from numb fingers. The little witches of Elizabeth's Coven clung to their pet Slime, tears soaking their cheeks.
"This is the end."
"Babylon has perished."
Just then, Future Skywhale hopped outside, waving his iconic ahoge.
"Don't cry. I made a promise, didn't I? Leave it to me."
Back in the throne room.
A pressure—immense, suffocating—suddenly descended.
"Such arrogance, for a mere Fifth Level Witch."
The voice was calm, yet overwhelming.
"Lilith, you don't have to stall anymore. I've already reached the Sixth Level."
"Who goes there?!" Adeline demanded, voice cracking.
From the shadows emerged a tall figure, nearly three meters in height, radiating divine power. Adeline's knees buckled.
"Y-you're a Sixth Level Wizard… Impossible! A man?! In Babylon?!"
She turned to flee, but a crushing force slammed into her. She collapsed, unconscious before she even hit the floor.
Her words echoed through the kingdom via her still-active spell:
"A Sixth Level Wizard... in Babylon?"
"Our kingdom had a hidden savior?"
"It was Her Majesty all along—she gave everything to others so they could rise!"
In an instant, sorrow turned to celebration. Despair to hope.
In Elizabeth's Coven, the seven little witches gawked at their Slime.
"Wait… It can't be…"
"He was just our pet…"
Future Skywhale turned to Lilith.
"You've carried this burden long enough. I'll handle it now. Tomorrow, I leave for the Rose Kingdom."
The witch ministers exchanged shocked looks.
"He's a man… but he saved us."
"A Sixth Level Wizard... and that beautiful…"
"What do we do now?" one finally asked.
Future Skywhale raised his staff.
"What do we do?" He grinned.
"There can only be war!!"
With a sweep of his staff, magic ripples surged outward. His declaration rang out across Babylon.
"There can only be war!!"
"There can only be war!!"
In the streets, the people of Babylon raised their heads.
History had repeated—but the hero had changed.
In the Hall of Alchemy…
Thousands of Slimes lined up in perfect formation.
"All units, board the war fortress."
One by one, they leapt into their designated positions—forming a massive Slime Motor Engine. Though they couldn't cast spells, their kinetic energy could be harnessed into sheer mechanical might.
"Today, we reclaim our dignity," Future Skywhale declared.
"Behold my modified J-31: An alchemical airship, powered by magic and vengeance."
As he entered the cockpit, the colossal airship roared to life.
A silver comet streaked across the skies of Babylon.
The Balchik Mountain Peaks – The Rose Kingdom
In the throne room, crimson-robed witches gathered as their Empress rose from her seat.
"...Interesting," Medusa murmured, and disappeared in an instant.
Above the palace, she reappeared in the sky.
With a wave of her staff, a crimson magic circle formed.
"The Flower of Death."
The sky darkened as swirling black clouds bloomed into a massive crimson rose.
On the airship:
"Gate of Holy Light!!"
Slimes pumped bellows, converting kinetic energy into raw spiritual force. Thousands of tiny magic staves extended from the hull.
Blinding holy light shot into the sky, piercing the heavens.
Light met darkness.
Magic met magic.
The earth quaked.
The mountains trembled.
Subjects of the Rose Kingdom ran outside, eyes wide at the spectacle overhead.
"Level Six?" Medusa turned toward the mechanical beast.
There was surprise in her eyes—but no fear.
"So you've finally come," she whispered.
"Tell me... are you Babylon's last hope?"