Sion kept his eyes on Will's back, a mixture of shock and awe churning in his chest. The once magicless swordsman, now dyed white from head to toe, radiated a power that screamed not just magic—but something more.
It was magic. But it was also something else. Something different.
Fwoosh!
The Devander rose from the rubble, seemingly unharmed but seething with rage. It twirled its mage slayer and let out a guttural growl.
"Grah—"
Fwoosh!
Its grunt was abruptly cut off as Will blurred to its right and swung his moria blade in a lateral arc.
Clang!
The fiend barely managed to raise its slayer in time, narrowly avoiding being cleaved in two. But the force still knocked it off its feet, sending it flying once again.
It skipped across the street like a pebble over a still ocean, smashing through road after road and leaving miniature craters in its wake. Each collision tore through buildings and market stalls alike.
Every impact bruised its flesh and battered its pride. The force of Will's strike was so immense, nothing could halt its momentum.
It couldn't even flap its wings in time to escape. It was hurled unrelentingly from the western edge of the city, deeper and deeper into Rigarden.
Its careening form soon neared the academy, catching the attention of one of the staff who stood at the castle-like front gates.
"The Devander has reached Central Flos!" the assistant shouted, spinning in panic. "H-Headmistress, we must evacuate!"
Caldron Anouve didn't respond. Instead, she narrowed her eyes and raised her wand, chanting inwardly.
Bubble, bubble, toil, and trouble—Keridos Aquulum!
An ornate, circular array shimmered to life on the academy gates. From it surged a swirl of bubbles, merging into a whirlpool-like wave.
Bang!
The Devander slammed into the spell's center, and for a brief moment, a burning, sizzling sound pierced the air—like flesh being boiled.
But just as quickly, the sound vanished. The spell dissolved into the Mage Slayer, completely absorbed.
Then, the Devander straightened. Its back bore no sign of injury. Not even a scratch.
As it turned and looked up at Caldron with a devilish grin, she met its gaze without flinching, a contemplative frown on her face.
Even if it was only for an instant... that should've been more than enough to finish it. How is it still—?
The high mage was genuinely confused.
Few knew the true extent of her power, and those who did would agree—she was more than capable of eliminating a devander, especially by ambush.
After all, she was among the strongest in the world beneath the Magia Vander, her true name mentioned secretly alongside the likes of Finn, Lefiya, and Logwell.
Yet the Devander stood completely unscathed.
No wounds.
No burns.
Not even swelling.
The only visible marks on its body were the few scattered bruises earned through the combined efforts of Will now and his master from earlier.
The faculty flanking Caldron grew increasingly frantic. The Devander now seemed poised to turn its fury on them, whatever "agreement" it had made with Patri fading fast from memory.
"Headmistress! We need to leave now! I-If we don't—"
"Wait." She cut him off firmly, then leaned forward slightly and whispered, "Just watch."
The two assistant professors blinked in confusion. Then they followed her gaze—finally remembering that the Devander hadn't reached the academy by its own choosing.
And then, emerging from the fog and rubble, a figure stepped into view.
The duo's jaws dropped in disbelief.
"I-Isn't that t-the—?"
"The No-Talent," his colleague murmured, finishing the sentence for him.
Will stared at the Devander with calm, indifferent eyes—yet there was something cruel behind them. Provocative. Daring.
"If it's a fight you want, then here I am."
The Devander didn't like that look.
In fact, it confused it deeply.
This... same... insect... from before?
It couldn't comprehend how the one it had used as a punching bag just ten minutes ago—who ran off like a coward—could now stand before it so changed.
It thought its non-existent eyes were deceiving it.
Will looked different.
But his scent hadn't changed.
Its instincts and senses both confirmed the truth: this was the same prey it had enjoyed toying with earlier.
"Grr…"
The Devander ground its teeth and lunged. Will blurred forward, meeting it halfway.
Mage Slayer came down.
Moria Blade rose to meet it.
Clang.
Fwoom!
A shockwave burst from the clash—smoke, magic, and a strange, otherworldly aura exploding outward. The impact rocked the city like a localized quake.
All across Rigarden, heads turned. People paused, struggling to locate the source of the sound.
As well as who was responsible.
Their unspoken questions remained unanswered—at least until Team Lihanna appeared, bursting past the bystanders with Sion, surprisingly, in the lead. Their voices cut through the fog of uncertainty like a blade.
"Dammit, Flunkee, don't you dare leave me behind!"
"Mreow!"
"Say that in a nicer way, Sion!"
"Don't bother, Colette. He's just like that…"
"Girls! Stop wasting time. We need to find Will! Hurry up, Julius!"
"D-Dammit, don't you tell me what to do, Elf!" The Reinburg heir growled, panting hard as he struggled to keep pace with the rest of his "pack."
We're mages, for god's sake… what's with all the running? The ice mage shed invisible tears of resignation but kept his complaints to himself.
Their banter didn't go unnoticed. Everyone turned to watch, stunned.
"Will's the cause of this?!" Donnan forced his bloodied and bruised body upright.
All around, high mages clutched their arms and stomachs, their wands gripped tight in aching fingers.
Now we're being shown up by a magicless student too...?
Edward Serfence stood among them, not faring much better.
Serfort?! You're telling me he's the one standing against that monster?!
The Dark Viper mage clenched his jaw, his pain and fatigue forgotten as he sprinted after Lihanna's group.
Ahead, Will and the Devander clashed again and again, locked in a brutal test of strength—neither giving ground, both pushing their limits.
Watching the battle from a distance, Caldron slowly turned her head.
She looked up to the top of Mercedes Caulis and whispered to herself.
So this was your choice... no matter what they say about you, I know the truth. You've truly matured.
You do grasp the bigger picture.
But there's no need to worry, Ice Maiden. The Will of today is far different from the one you parted with.
He is ready.
And so am I.
As long as I'm here... never again will this power take from him.
Not his memories.
Not his identity.
Not himself.
So… smile.
— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —
Mercedes Caulis: Floor 50
At the top of the tower, all the Vanders and Adjutants stared at the magical projection showing the battle below, their expressions mixed and varied.
Elfaria Albis Serfort's stood out—one of surprise, flustered awe, and quiet adoration. Her face flushed as she watched the image of the boy she had pined for over the past six years.
A childhood friend she could only meet as someone else.
Always near him, yet never able to reach out with her own hands… never able to tell him she was there.
For him.
With him.
By his side.
Even as he bruised and broke himself chasing her shadow.
The sight moved her deeply—flooding her with love, guilt, and self-loathing all at once.
She saw him again in that same radiant, ethereal form. The one she'd only witnessed twice before.
A form that filled her heart with both reverent longing and dread.
One that haunted her dreams and turned them into nightmares.
Because twice, it had nearly taken him from her. It had left behind only heartbreak and one very close call.
But now, something stirred in her soul.
A whisper. A calling.
Telling her this time would be different.
This time… things would go right—for him, and for everyone.
He would no longer lose everything for the sake of others.
This time, her friend would finally claim his owed share of the reward… and the glory.
"Will…!"
Her heartbeat quickened.
— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —
As Edward sprinted toward the city center after his students, a familiar figure floated down beside him—gliding effortlessly on her broom.
The dark mage snapped without missing a step.
"Serah?! What are you doing down here?!"
Shouldn't you be up in the skies? Monitoring the battle and searching for the mastermind? he thought bitterly.
Clairie Serah, the Tower Arbiter, read him like an open book. She pouted, shaking her head as if scolding a child.
"Never mind that. Who's that boy? Tell me, Ed!"
For the briefest moment, Edward nearly stumbled. His breath caught.
"...!"
Then his expression darkened. He shook his head.
"It's classified."
"Classified?!" Clairie nearly leapt off her broom to smack him.
"I'm the Arbiter! What could possibly be classified from me?! You're no Vander! What gives you the right to know something I don't?!"
Edward's brow twitched.
She had hit where it hurt—throwing his past failures in his face like it was nothing. Failures he still hadn't forgiven himself for.
With friends like these, who needs enemies?
He chose not to dignify her with a reply.
With a snort, he picked up his pace, leaving one last string of words behind.
"Ask your master."
Or Workner. He kept that part to himself.
Clairie froze for half a second before turning crimson with outrage. She whipped up a small gust of wind magic and gave chase.
"Come back here, Ed!!!"
— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —
Clang!
Clang!
"W… Wow…"
Team Emma, now regrouped with several other academy students—none important enough to name—watched from the castle walls of Rigarden as Will and the Devander clashed in the city square.
Their blows moved faster than the eye could track. Will left behind a streak of silver light; the Devander, a blur of black.
Sweat trickled down Emma's chin as she leaned forward, her clenched fists pressed against two opposite merlons.
"W-We have to go help him—!"
She was cut off by a sudden hand on her arm.
It belonged to a boy her height with light brown hair.
"No, stop, Emma!"
She turned to Palm Snoke in confusion, just as he parted his lips again.
"Magic doesn't work on that thing! What could you possibly do?"
Her words died. Around them, their classmates shifted, encircling the two in uneasy silence.
Palm let go of her arm but didn't step back.
"We'd only get in his way."
The atmosphere didn't even have time to grow tense before someone else spoke up.
One of Julius's underlings—Lunais Alerht, a guy with a bowl cut and hair so dark it was nearly black—nodded in resigned frustration.
"Besides… that's the No-Talent, right? After all the times we laughed at him, trashed him, and put him down… how could we be shameless enough to show our faces in front of him now?"
"..."
"..."
"..."
The dozen or so students—each already guaranteed a place in the tower—said nothing. The atmosphere dropped like a curtain of rain, heavy and suffocating, as they hung their heads in shame.
Not that they'd even know what a rainy day felt like.
No one spoke to contradict Palm or Lunais.
They all knew any protest would just be empty posturing, a cheap attempt to climb onto some imagined moral high ground.
None of them really wanted to fight the Devander.
And absolutely none had the pride—or the humility—to show themselves before Will and offer what would likely be a useless hand.
All except one.
Lyril Marze, one of Sion's usual lackeys.
He clenched his fists, teeth grinding, and slowly lifted his head to meet the others' eyes.
"B… But…"
They all turned to him. He didn't back down.
"...He's the one… who saved our lives…"
He remembered the moment clearly. And now, Sion's words about the dungeon incident no longer sounded like exaggeration.
Gordon Baret, standing just behind him, felt the same.
The two ground their teeth.
Even now… he's out there, fighting for us…
And he's the only one who doesn't even have a reason to fight.
The only one among us not bound for the tower… is risking everything to protect the very sky we mages are supposed to guard.
Around them, fists clenched.
Nails dug deep into palms.
Maybe we're just saying this to soothe our guilt.
But even so… even so… we wish there was something we could do—
Fwoosh!
The group stiffened, snapping their heads around just in time to see five familiar students—and one Carbuncle—speed past, leaning over merlons and crenellations, screaming at the top of their lungs.
"Goooooooo!!! You can win this, you stupid Flunkee!"
"Will!!!"
"Mreow!"
"Don't let it beat you, Will!"
"Hold your ground, Serfort! Push it back!"
"End this, Learner! We've been through enough already!"
"?!"
The other students watched, stunned, murmuring their names in disbelief.
"Sion…"
"Colette?"
"Wignall!"
"Lihanna?!"
"Julius…"
"YOU CAN DO IT, WILL! (Mreow!)"
That last shout cracked something open.
The self-loathing the others had tried to bury came bubbling up all at once—and finally, they let it go.
They cast aside their pride and joined in.
"Go, Will!"
"Please!"
"C'mon!"
And it wasn't just them.
From all around the city, more voices rose—people crying out in unison.
All to support that boy.
To give him the strength to keep fighting.
To lend him their… courage.
Be it Donnan—
"Hah hah hah, crush the bastard!"
Gina—
"Free drinks, on me! Just end this!"
Or the little girl whose life he'd saved alongside her mother—
"You can do it, Mister!"
Everywhere, across Rigarden, mages, dwarves, and civilians crowded along the walls, shouting as the battle raged on.
It only grew fiercer—faster—louder.
"Keep it up!"
"Knock it down!"
"Show 'em the Rigarden way!"
"Yeah, that's it!"
Iris stood frozen, watching the scene unfold in disbelief.
Rigarden… the heart of the magical world… is cheering for a No-Magic? I don't believe it…!
She felt the sting behind her eyes, the pressure in her chest.
Like an old woman watching her child grow up—finally maturing, growing a pair, some common sense, and getting it right—she nearly burst into tears of joy and pride.
— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —
Will Serfort:
I always felt so pathetic.
"Rawr!"
As the Devander swung its Mage Slayer at me, I met it with my Moria Blade.
Clang!
All the while, my thoughts spiraled.
It hurt so much, knowing what I was.
Wham!
Our next clash cracked the ground beneath us. Silver light sparked wildly around us like an electric current, untamed and feral.
I was shunned…
Clang!
I was mocked…
Clang!
There were times when even I hated the world...
And yet—!
My eyes locked onto the fiend. No... the prey before me.
I pushed back with a lateral swing, carving out a streak of energy—the same energy Finn had poured into my blade with his blood.
The cries behind me filled me with new willpower. Greater courage. A reason to win.
In a quiet corner of my mind, I still hoped they'd accept me.
"Grr!"
I let out a low grunt, driving the fiend back several meters.
Then I crouched low, gripping my blade tight.
Even if I never hear their cheers again... even if I never again see those gazes—of hope, of trust, of expectations pointed my way…
This city, these people, this world—they give me courage.
And I want to protect them.
My power surged as if answering that resolve.
With a hop, I launched into the air, channeling everything into one downward swing.
"AHHHHHHH!!!"
The ground cracked again under the Devander as I bore down, my blade inches from its shoulder—its flesh.
Creak.
But I made one miscalculation.
My own strength.
It wasn't lacking.
No... it was too much.
The blade—meant to counter magic, yet also capable of channelling my strange power—shattered.
It couldn't contain it anymore.
Krack!
I stared, stunned, landing hard on both feet.
The Devander just smiled—that same wicked smile it wore before cleaving Rosti in front of me.
"...Oops?"
That was all I could say.
— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —
Krack!
The audience, leaning over the walls, watched Will's sword snap with a mix of horror and despair.
Iris ground her teeth.
Will's weapon wasn't strong enough to endure his power?! …Of course it wasn't! And there's no way you didn't know that... Invess, what on Paradise are you thinking?!
She cursed the dwarf, though she could see no sign of him.
"Will!"
Colette called out to her friend—and not-so-secret crush—in a panic, while Lihanna and the others tensed.
What is he going to do without his weapon? What good's a Sword, without a sword?! The odds are against him again!
Sure enough, the Devander seized the advantage, swinging down laterally with it Mage Slayer.
Wham!
The ground cracked beneath it as Will backflipped away just in time.
Then the chase began—cat and mouse.
The Devander, a black blur, pursued Will, a silver streak darting just ahead.
Just like with Patri, Will always managed to stay barely out of reach.
He even landed the occasional punch or kick, but it did little more than stun or slow the fiend.
It seemed whatever power Finn had awakened could only be fully exerted through a weapon—specifically, a sword.
Colette considered summoning one for him using her magic, like she had during the crown attack and the battle against the Grand Duke.
But she held back for several reasons.
First of all, the Devander was a mage bane.
She didn't even know if a weapon forged through Mage Craft could hurt the thing.
Her magic reserves were nearly gone—she couldn't guarantee making a decent blade.
She might just get him killed, handing him false hope.
Second, the Devander still had the Mage Slayer.
Even if she used real stone instead of elemental manifestation, the weapon would still be a spell.
Meaning it could be negated, absorbed, or turned into nothing more than a rock the moment he got close.
Colette bit her lip.
What can I do—
She paused, eyes lifting.
A shining light began to fall from the top of the tower.
Will froze.
So did everyone else.
Even the Devander was still, captivated by the beacon.
"Heh heh…"
Hands in his pocket, standing unnoticed on Rigarden's roof, Finn chuckled softly.
"Time to see something interesting. Something very interesting."
— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —
A Moment Earlier — Mercedes Caulis, 50th Stratum:
Krak!
The moment Will's sword snapped, Albis Vina turned her hips and practically stomped past Patri toward the balcony.
"Stop, Elfaria," Cariott called calmly from his seat. "How many times must this be repeated? The Magia Vander are not to leave this room."
Ka-chk.
Her heels clicked into place against the marble floor as she glanced back over her shoulder.
She never slowed her stride, meeting her colleague's gaze with the same calm, indifferent expression.
"I'm not trying to leave."
"I just want to watch from here."
"Oh?" Cariott raised a brow in mock surprise, chuckling softly. "My mistake."
Whoosh.
Elfaria's icy blue hair fluttered in the wind as she smiled smugly, lifting her hand toward the sky.
"...Oops. Silly me…"
A sword made of ice floated above her as she walked on.
"My hand slipped."
Then the sword began to fall—shooting down, straight toward Will.
Cariott kept smiling.
"Well, we're only human. Slip-ups tend to happen."
Elfaria beamed.
"That they do."
She turned back toward the balcony to watch.
Fwish!
The sword hurtled down toward her childhood friend like a meteorite, drawing not just his gaze, but everyone else's.
Will looked up in shock.
His vision seemed to stretch hundreds of meters into the air.
And then, finally, he saw her.
For six long years, he'd looked up at the top of the tower, wondering if she could see him.
Wondering if she was looking down too.
But tonight—thanks to his expanded senses—he saw her clearly.
Not as a magical projection.
Not as a blurry image in the newspapers.
With his own two eyes.
Face-to-face. Eye-to-eye.
Hundreds of meters apart.
He saw her smile.
Her beautiful smile.
He saw her blush.
Her adorable blush.
And he saw her nod.
That empowering nod.
And that was enough.
For him. For now.
He smiled back.
Then raised his hand and caught the sword as it landed perfectly in his grasp.
Upright.
Tip pointed straight to the sky.
— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —
Boom!
The moment he made contact with it, a blast of magical aura exploded around him, flooding Central Flos in an icy mist.
From Rigarden's castle walls, mages and dwarves alike shielded their eyes with their arms.
The Devander was no different—caught dead-center in the blast.
Then the mist began to fade, revealing Will.
Silver light crackled around him, stronger than ever.
The sword in his hand looked transformed—something different.
Something greater.
Something that suited him.
The center of the blade shed excess ice, revealing a hollow gap—a flaw any swordsmith would call stupid and vulnerable.
Unless they saw Will.
"Fully Charged: Albis Wis," he murmured.
His voice echoed with an ethereal resonance that sent chills up every spine.
The Devander froze.
It felt something it hadn't in a long time.
Danger.
Grave danger.
Sion blinked from the castle wall, instinctively muttering under his breath.
"It's just like... when we fought the Evil Grand Duke."
Julius's eyes widened.
"B-but magic doesn't work on this thing! No matter how strong the spell may be—"
"Will!" Colette cried out in panic, praying he wouldn't do anything reckless.
The Devander smiled at him, darting forward.
Will stood his ground—still, confident—and closed his eyes.
I can feel it… I can feel this sword thrumming with power.
But not just that.
He felt her.
Elfaria.
Her familiar scent, her presence, her aura—wrapping around him.
Holding the sword with him.
For a moment, he felt déjà vu.
But he didn't dwell on it.
His eyes snapped open.
The Devander closed in, but Will smiled.
Because I know… nothing can stop me now!
He swung vertically downward—so fast, the Devander couldn't react in time.
Its entire right arm, Mage Slayer and all, was suddenly encased in ice.
And somehow, the Mage Slayer didn't nullify it.
"Grrrrg?"
The fiend grunted in confusion, staring at its frozen limb.
And then—
Krack!
The ice shattered mercilessly.
Mage Slayer and arm broke into bits, blood gushing like a fountain from the stump at its shoulder.
"Gaahhh?!!"
The Devander clutched the wound in agony, trying to stop the bleeding—trying to understand the bleeding.
Until now, the worst injury it had ever suffered was a glorified paper cut.
By the insect now standing before it.
It couldn't process the pain.
Couldn't stomach it.
Iris blinked.
It… worked?! That shouldn't even be possible against a Mage Slayer… Is this what a Sword is?!
Edward Serfence couldn't take his eyes off the scene.
Wis! The Mageblade! With a power like that, he really could become—
He didn't even want to finish the thought.
It nearly made him hurl.
— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —
Elsewhere:
From their hiding spot above, watching the scene unfold below, Marze—now regrouped with Headless—clutched his left shoulder, feeling the pain return in full.
His hand drifted from his shoulder to his face.
He grabbed it, trembling, crying in disbelief beneath his mask.
"What the hell?! T-This makes no sense! He cut right through the Sleime?!"
"That fuckin' kid… who is he?!"
Marze cursed himself for not finishing Will off when he had the chance.
He feared for his own safety now more than ever.
Yet deep down, he also praised himself.
Thank the gods I didn't go back for that monster…
For once, Headless had no witty comeback.
...Seriously?
— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —
From the top of the tower, Ellenor rose from her seat.
For the first time since the chaos began, emotion surfaced on her face.
Shock.
He's not using magic… That power is—
Zeo clutched his forehead and threw his head back, howling with laughter.
"Ha ha ha ha ha! That's friggin' awesome! I love that kid!"
Cariott cocked his head, tapping the armrest rhythmically.
The fifth element... The primeval key that set the world in motion, as written in The Lore!
Aaron's face remained unreadable beneath his hood.
No joy. No shock.
Have you finally attained it then… Finn?
The Wand and Sword pledged by the Mage Queen…?
— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —
Once again, Will charged forward.
With a lateral swipe of his sword, he sent a wave of ice crashing toward the Devander.
It countered immediately, punching through the wave with its remaining arm—its sheer physical power undeniable.
Then it opened its maw wide, blackish energy swirling around its jaw.
"Rawrr!"
It unleashed a bellowing cry—firing a beam of dark magic straight at Will.
He ducked expertly, sliding beneath it with perfect timing.
Then, blade drawn, he slashed upward.
"Grrrh!"
Just like before, the Devander let out a grunt—its last arm frozen solid.
Krack!
"Gagggh?!"
And just like before, the arm shattered—reduced to bloody shards of ice and flesh.
The beast collapsed to its knees and roared once more.
"Rawrr!"
From its maw, its black wings, and even the empty air around it, several beams of dark magic blasted toward Will—tracking him like homing missiles.
He didn't move.
He just stood there, waiting.
Then calmly—casually—he swiped his sword.
Brr!
All five blasts froze mid-air, forming twisting, snake-like sculptures of ice.
Krack!
They shattered, vanishing into mist.
His friends stared in awe—amazed, but also shaken.
He's too strong!
That merciless, overwhelming power…
It's just like Albis Vina!
It's almost as if that girl… is fighting by his side!
Throughout the battle, they thought their eyes were playing tricks on them—glimpses of her beside him.
But whenever they squinted, focused, looked closer—she was gone.
Only Will remained.
And yet, it felt like she was still there.
Overlapping with him.
One and the same.
— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —
"Grrrg!"
"Grrrg!"
"Grrrg!"
The Devander let out grunt after grunt of pain as blood seeped from its shoulders and jaw.
It was finished.
Not afraid of death—not really.
But it hated the thought of dying before settling its score with its so-called archnemesis.
Especially like this.
By someone it had toyed with.
Dismissed as an insect just fifteen minutes ago.
Skrr!
Marze dug his nails into his cheeks, dragging them down, tearing out flesh as he roared in fury.
He couldn't take any more.
Not the mission's endless setbacks.
Not the Devander's pathetic defeat.
And especially not that brat—the same brat he'd had so many chances to kill.
Ever since the All-Student Praxis...
He's the root of all this!
Forget the Magia Vander—Marze would be damned if he couldn't kill one kid.
"HEADLESS!"
He roared aloud, not caring if it gave them away.
Headless was already moving, wand raised and pointed forward.
Boom!
Dun dun dun!
Several magic circles flared to life above Will and the Devander.
Sion and Julius stared, wide-eyed.
"Gates?!"
"There's more of them?!"
Sure enough, a horde of Dinobori—nearly as massive as the last herd that ravaged the city—began dropping through.
They encircled Will like predators closing in.
And then they lunged, claws swiping.
Will looked on calmly, speaking either to himself—or perhaps, to her.
"It doesn't matter. You and I can handle it."
Fwump!
He embedded his sword into the ground, instantly freezing the area around him.
Several magical caricles danced and spiraled around the blade.
Then he shouted a command—one that rose instinctively in his mind, as if hardcoded into him.
Like a system trigger in a machine.
"Overload! Full Burst! El Glace Frosse! Spell Seven!"
He unleashed one of Albis Vina's most prized creations.
Multiple arrays hovered overhead, stacked in an intricate series.
Rumble!
Bolts cracked down like divine thunder.
"Fruzel Cardenia!"
Each strike became a jagged shard of ice—piercing, decapitating, impaling the Dinobori.
The entire courtyard froze solid—castle and all.
"...."
No one could speak.
Not Sion.
Not Edward.
Not Marze.
They stood frozen in place.
Shocked.
Speechless.
Headless dropped his wand.
Clack!
Even the playful supervillain had no words.
The Devander shivered as Will turned his eyes on him.
Cruel.
Indifferent.
As if he didn't even see him as a threat anymore.
As if the fight meant nothing to him.
As if revenge was beneath him.
But that was only an act.
Will Serfort was deeply sentimental—and when it came to those he loved, deeply vengeful.
"Let's end this!"
He closed his eyes for a breath, remembering Rosti's final expression.
Then they snapped open.
"Ahhhhh!"
Whoosh!
He blasted forward, a streak of silver light.
And just as the Devander had done to his friend, Will cleaved through it—bisecting it cleanly down the middle.
Just like Rosti's end—
Krak!
He shattered the fiend into nothing but chunks of flesh and icy mist.
Rosti… that was for you!
Colette choked up.
Tears of pride and relief pricked at her eyes as she covered her mouth to stifle a sob.
"Will!"
The others weren't much better.
Even Sion, fist clenched, let his tears fall freely.
"Hngh! Gngh."
But unlike Colette, he didn't try to hide them.
"Yeah!!!"
"WOOOHHH!!!!"
A beat later, the entire crowd erupted—cheers echoing through Central Flos—as Will turned toward them with a smile.
Team Lihanna, even Julius, vaulted the wall and rushed toward him.
Will chuckled sheepishly, face flushed, awkward and embarrassed.
Workner Norgram, slumped against a wall—hole still in his stomach, though noticeably smaller—stirred awake.
"Will…" he mumbled softly, smiling with quiet pride.
Eliza Noseferat glanced at him with concern, then clicked her tongue wryly and said nothing.
Idiot… think about yourself.
But perhaps the widest smile, and loudest laugh, belonged to one specific man-child.
"Heh… HA HA HA HA HA HA HA!!!"
"SUPERB! Absolutely superb!"
Fiin spread his arms wide, standing atop the roof with a grand and very pleased grin.
His chuckle only deepened as he saw Colette and Kiki tackle Will to the ground in a sobbing heap.
"He was our last hope—and he surpassed my wildest dreams!"
"Heh."
The dwarf ran a hand through his messy blond hair, then turned to face the towering stone pillar.
The tower.
And then he spoke to it.
"Sorry to keep you waiting, Mercedes! It's time to honor our bargain!"
He paused, as if waiting for some unseen reply—talking either to someone specific or simply for the thrill of it.
His smile widened.
"What? It only took five hundred years! That's a tiny delay!"
He turned again, slipping his hands back into his pockets as he glanced toward Will, now swarmed by friends.
"Anyway… that does it for the long prologue!"
"Just you wait, you false sky! The curtain is about to rise."
"Now let's begin, shall we? Time to tell the tale of Wand and Sword!"
— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —
"Marze… let's get out of here…"
Headless scribbled the words with his finger, his voice echoing from a mouth that didn't exist.
He waited for a response.
But none came.
"Marze?"
Still nothing.
So he turned around.
Marze wasn't looking at him.
He wasn't even looking at Will—the one who had driven him into that earlier rage.
Instead, he was turned upward.
Staring at the sky.
Headless followed his gaze with his non-existent eyes.
And then he saw it.
Or rather—her.
An ethereal woman floated above them, silver hair spilling endlessly behind her.
A sleeping baby rested soundly in her right arm, utterly unbothered.
Her wand was pointed straight at them—left hand, steady and deliberate.
Headless recognized her instantly.
"She… sees us?"
He spoke aloud, knowing how stupid the question sounded—but still feeling justified in his confusion.
They had Hide casted.
So how—?
Even if they'd made noise before, it wasn't enough to give them away.
Headless looked around.
No one in the crowd so much as glanced at Noelle.
It was as if… she wasn't even there.
Huh?
Is she using Hide as well? Then how can we…?
Right then and there, Headless had a strange thought.
Did she somehow take control of our Hide… and expand it to include herself?
Is that even possible?
Marze didn't respond.
Instead, he slowly smiled beneath his mask—a malevolent grin stretching across his face.
"Hah hah hah… looks like the Gods don't hate me too much. They've at least given me this!"
He snapped his fingers.
A magic circle flared beside him, and slowly, a blade began to rise from it—just like his knives before.
A Mage Slayer.
For some reason, it didn't disrupt or nullify the spell that summoned it.
Marze gripped the sword, ready to swing.
Grab.
Headless seized his arm.
"Marze… it's time to go!"
This time, his voice carried command, not suggestion.
Marze looked over his shoulder, face dark, eyes burning with vengeance.
"Headless… I let you do your thing in the dungeon. Now let go and let me have this!"
"..."
Headless did release him—but not without scribbling another message.
"Your shoulder… you're in no condition to fight her."
Marze sneered.
"I have the Mage Slayer. What could she possibly do?!"
Headless didn't have eyes—but if he did, he'd be staring at his "friend" like he'd lost his mind.
After everything we've experienced today… how can you possibly think that?
He wondered if Marze had hit his head somewhere along the way.
He hadn't been this stupid before.
But he didn't resist anymore.
He knew what Marze was about to do was suicidal.
Dangerous for both of them.
Still…
Headless wasn't in the mood to argue.
He wanted revenge too.
And if taking Noelle's head home was all they could manage…
Well… it'd make for one hell of a consolation prize.
Just as Marze was about to take the initiative, Noelle moved first.
Water pooled at the tip of her wand.
Her wedding ring began to glow.
A wisp of black energy seeped from it, intertwining with the swirling water and then she fired.
A pressurized jet of black water surged toward Marze.
The assassin didn't think much of it.
Sure, black water was new—but there were plenty of obscure spells he'd never heard of.
He felt the magic in it, pegged it as just another spell, and calmly swiped his Mage Slayer to nullify it.
Big mistake.
Yes, the attack was drawn toward the sword—but the Mage Slayer didn't absorb it.
Didn't nullify it.
The water jet simply cut through the Sleime—just like Will's had—and sliced the sword in two.
"Huh?"
Clank.
Marze blinked as the top half hit the ground.
Clank.
He dropped the hilt.
Frozen.
Speechless.
Like a dead man who'd just experienced his final shock of the day.
Shit!
Headless cursed, reaching for his wand.
But before he could grab it, it glowed silver and floated up, drifting toward Noelle.
Marze's wand did the same on his side.
Headless tensed.
The Gate… I can't form it fast enough without a wand to anchor the spellform.
Noelle seemed ready to fire again—her wand glowing, magic building.
But before she could, darkness rippled beneath Headless and Marze, snapping them both into focus.
Shadowy hands rose from their own shadows.
They reached up, grabbed them, and began to drag them downward—pulling them into the dark.
Headless inhaled sharply.
Rescue, huh?
Marze clicked his tongue.
Nacht? Tch. I hate owing that creep a favor… but beggars can't be choosers.
He glanced up at Noelle as his body sank further into shadow.
She stood tall, wand lowered, brows furrowed.
A flicker of satisfaction crossed his face.
He growled.
"Just you wait, missy! Next time we meet, you and that brat'll be begging for your lives!"
He braced himself for fear, or anger, or even disgust to flash across her face.
But instead—she smiled.
A slow, calm curve of her lips.
Not cruel. Not mocking. Just… meaningful.
It left both him and Headless utterly confused.
But they wouldn't get the chance to ask why.
With a final pull, they vanished—completely swallowed by shadow, warped away to parts unknown.
And neither of them would ever know…what that smile truly meant.
— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —
Mercedes Caulis – Floor 50:
The room slowly emptied.
After Will's victory, the Fire and Thunder factions were the first to leave.
Zeo—because he'd lost interest.
Cariott—because he had paperwork and duties to attend to.
Elfaria cast one final, fond glance at the magical display.
Then she turned, exiting with Sarissa in tow.
Bang!
The great doors swung shut behind them.
That left only the Fairy and Thunder factions.
Ellenor Ljos Alf.
And Aaron Masterias Oldking—standing across from one another.
Silent. Calm. Indifferent.
Their adjutants stood behind them, unmoving.
"..."
After a few seconds, Aaron seemed to have had enough.
He spoke—perhaps to Ellenor, perhaps to Patri behind him, or maybe to both.
"Don't take too long."
And then, invoking his authority as a Magia Vander, he vanished in a golden glow—warping through the tower to his private chambers.
As soon as he was gone, Ellenor didn't waste a second.
She slumped into her chair, shedding every trace of royal and noble bearing.
Feet went up on the table—just as she always mocked Zeo for doing.
"Finally the geezer's gone!"
In terms of raw age, she might've even been older than him.
Insulting a Vander was scandalous.
Insulting their king was outright blasphemy.
Yet Ellenor didn't care.
And no one else seemed to either.
Her adjutants followed suit in the sacrilege without hesitation—taking the seats reserved for Thorzeus Fudge and Incindia Barham as if they'd always belonged there.
Filvis gave a quiet nod, mumbling,
"Yeah. It's so suffocating. I want to go home."
Lefiya, sitting in Cariott's chair, smiled and corrected her calmly.
"You are technically home, Filvis."
"T-then I want to go to my room!"
"A-and I want to lock myself inside and never come out!"
"..."
Ellenor's and Lefiya's brows twitched in unison.
They turned in silence to the blonde, eye-patched elf across from them.
He smiled back innocently—then casually dropped into Aaron's now-empty chair.
"As graceless as ever, I see."
Ellenor clicked her tongue.
"Shut it. You should be thanking me. Covering for you all these years—it's exhausting."
Patri kept his smile.
"Maybe I would thank you… if you did a better job."
Ellenor pouted.
"It's not my fault the Old Man's so damn astute. Little goes on in this tower without him catching wind… Honestly, sometimes I think he's planted a maser in all our rooms."
Filvis stiffened with a yelp.
"D-Did he?!"
The trio ignored him.
Patri shook his head, his smile softening into something more focused as he leaned forward.
"Alright. You heard the man. Not much time for small talk."
"So spill it. How're Fana and my niece doing?"
Ellenor gave him a long look—then sighed, slowly straightening in her seat.
— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —
Author's Notes:
[1] Since there isn't really an official English translation, Wistoria ends up with a lot of alternate spellings and translations.
Some are minor—others, pretty major.
One example is Rigarden vs. Regarden.
The anime uses Rigarden, but the wiki pages and manga translations go with Regarden.
Should I start using Regarden from now on, or do you guys not really care?
[2] If you'd like to chat, discuss the story, or hang out, feel free to join the Discord: https://discord.gg/s3MME8X8ar