Date: January 4, 2018 | Time: 08:30 AM |
Location: Requiem Guild Headquarters - Sylvaris
Perspective: Sylvia
The early morning sunlight filtered through my office window, catching the silver strands of my hair as I reviewed the ledger one last time. Beside my mahogany desk, Alina stood as still as a statue, her obsidian hair pulled into a practical ponytail and her piercing purple eyes fixed on the map of the South Seas.
A light, frantic knock—the signature of a nervous Marcus—interrupted the silence.
"Enter," I called out, leaning back into the creaking leather of my chair.
Marcus peeked in, his hands visibly shaking. "Guildmaster Sylvia? The... the Guild Leader of Crimson Eclipse has arrived. She says she is expecting."
"Send her in, Marcus,"
Seconds later, the door swung open with a regal flourish.
Navina Caelwyn stepped into the room, her radiant gold hair catching the light and her electric blue eyes flickering as they scanned the office. She carried a "Saintly" aura that was both intimidating and disarming.
"Sylvia, darling, you're looking as stunning as ever," Navina crooned, her voice a melodic, playful lilt. Her gaze immediately drifted to Alina, and her smile widened into a mirthful predator's grin.
"And Alina! Look at those big purple eyes... Oh my! You're playing with sharp objects?"
Alina didn't sweat. Her expression remained eerily neutral as she stared back at the Sword Saint of Reflex.
"I'm sharpening my sword," Alina replied, her tone flat and grounded.
"You talk too much."
Navina chuckled, reaching out as if to pat Alina's head, but stopped just short of the younger girl's "Speed Killer" range. "Ouch, so blunt! You truly are a study in stillness, aren't you?"
"Sit, Navina," I interjected, gesturing to the guest chair. I enjoyed the drama between them; it was the kind of high-level energy that made for a good business partnership.
"We have Priority Zero business to discuss."
Navina sat, though her nose wrinkled slightly. "The mana in this room is a bit... intense, Sylvia. It's like needles against my skin. Let's get to the point so I can find a quiet garden."
I placed the vellum envelope from the Celestial Kingdom on the desk, the gold wax seal glinting. "Princess Shelara Caiwarin has formally requested a total mobilization. The target is Sorrow's Peak—or as the old texts call it, Avalon Island. You must already be aware."
She leaned forward, her electric blue eyes locked on the report.
"Avalon. I've seen the long-range scans. The environment is extreme. This isn't a natural outbreak; it's engineering."
"1,000 distinct monster signatures," Alina added, her analytical mind already processing the "Puzzle".
"The Cult of Nemesis is suspected of using Modified S-Rank Beasts as a baseline. They will target healers and mages first. Brute force will fail."
"3,000 gold for threat neutralization," I noted, watching Navina's reaction. "But we need a coordinated strike. Requiem, Crimson Eclipse and others are leading a joint force."
Navina tapped a manicured finger against the mahogany desk.
"The 'Quickswitcher' versus a Modified S-Rank... it sounds almost entertaining. But we need to move before the month is out. If the Cult finalizes their research, the coastlines of Sylvaris will be the first to drown."
"The island's ecosystem has been terraformed," Alina observed, pointing to the genetic variance chart. "Dense forestation where there was once only bare rock. They are hiding in plain sight."
I smirked, the silver strands of my hair catching the light. "Then we'll just have to burn the forest down to find them. Everyone wins."
"I'll begin the tactical opportunism protocols for my squads. Just make sure your little 'prodigy' here doesn't get in the way of my sensory awareness." Navina said.
Alina didn't look up from the map. "I don't care where you are. I move to where the target must be. Don't worry about me."
"Such a charming team we're building," I laughed as the two Sword Saints exchanged sharp glances.
"You know, Navina," I said, letting a casual grin break my 'busy Guildmaster' pose.
"Before we fully commit to the adventure of a month-long island siege, there's a more... immediate infection we need to exterminate. It's localized, it's angry, and it's currently making a sovereign territory out of the dead under the Scarred Crater."
"The Mother of Despair"
Navina tilted her head, her electric blue eyes flickering as she tracked the shift in my mana. "An S-rank threat?" she asked, her voice a melodic tease.
"Exactly," I murmured, tapping a manicured fingernail against a fresh map of the crater.
"We have three months until the Avalon gates open, but this S-rank threat is too close to ignore. I'm proposing a joint operation for January 10th. A quick strike to secure the hub before we all move south."
Alina stepped forward, her purple eyes cold and analytical as she pointed to the strategic layout. Showing Navia full description of the beast.
Navina took a minute or two to digest all the information.
"Two groups," she stated bluntly, her voice like crystal.
"Group A handles the vanguard to trigger its teleporting abilities, while Group B provides the long-range elemental suppression. We use a value-based reward system: the guild with the highest contribution and mana-output takes the majority of the extractions. It's the only way to ensure efficiency over politics."
Alina paused, her gaze narrowing on the creature's attributes. "The problem is the All-Seeing eye. She reacts to a 'thought' of mana before the spell is even cast. We haven't figured out how to counter a reaction that happens before the action."
Navina giggled, a sound that carried a hidden observation. "It's not thought-reading, Alina. It's instinctive ripples in the mana field. She feels the atmosphere shift because she is the ecosystem ." She leaned over the map, her 'Reflex' aura sharpening.
"The feature you're struggling with is her Eternal Heartbeat. It drains stamina from everyone nearby with every thump. But I can sense the attack's frequency before it pulses. If I'm in the vanguard, she can't surprise me. My body moves before her 'zero-distance' travel even completes."
"Precisely why I called you, Navina," I grinned, leaning forward.
"Xander is too lazy to coordinate, Levi's would just boast his self-claimed #1 title, and Scar... well, Scar wouldn't even come due to how narcissistic he is."
"They don't fit the deal."
Navina laughed, her hairstyles perfectly in place despite the tension. "A lazy genius, a self-claimed number one, and a narcissist? I think I'm clearly the best choice here. I like the strategy, Sylvia."
"The materials from an S+ kill will fund our guilds' Avalon supplies for the next year."
We shook hands—a business merger signed in the shadow of a catastrophe. But as Navina turned to leave, she stopped, her electric blue eyes flickering with a sudden, genuine curiosity.
"Sylvia?" she asked, her voice losing its mirthful lilt for a split second. "Are you nervous about Avalon?".
I paused, my hand hovering over the Princess's letter. The question caught me off-guard.
"Princess Shelara doesn't send Priority Zero letters for nothing, Navina," I admitted softly, looking out at my city. "It's going to be a bloodbath.".
"Avalon feels like the prelude to another Grotesque War," Navina murmured, her blue eyes losing their usual mirthful flicker.
"I still remember the Swarm Tyrant. It didn't just attack; it destroyed us. I was supposed to be the fastest—the one who could 'Quickswitch' through anything—but that thing's claws were faster than my own reflexes. One scratch was all it took. The poison reached me; it turned my sensory awareness into aching toxicity."
"I couldn't even stand, let alone fight. And the rain... it was like the sky itself was mourning our defeat before it even happened."
Alina looked up from the map, her purple eyes eerily neutral. "It was a miracle we survived the first wave at all. I've spent weeks trying to solve that battle in my head, but the variables don't add up."
"Why did the Grotesques simply run off? They had us cornered ." She turned her piercing gaze toward Sylvia.
"And you, Sylvia. Where did you get the data for this raid? Counter weapon structures, blood acidity, the psychological profiles of evolved forms... it's too specific."
I let out a small, guarded giggle, hiding my own past vulnerabilities behind a wall of wit.
"A woman in my position needs to keep her personal secrets, Alie."
Navina's eyes flickered toward me. "Wait... you were the one who placed those 'miracles,' weren't you? The supplies that appeared when we were at our breaking point?"
I didn't answer. Instead, I shifted the weight of the silence. "Where were you in the second battle, Navina? Your guild was on the front lines, but the Sword Saint of Reflex was nowhere to be found."
Navina's hand went to her rapier, her body tightening. "I was... very sick," she said, cutting herself off before the truth could leak.
A long, heavy silence settled over the mahogany desk. I stared at the Celestial Kingdom's report, my heart rate finally stabilizing.
"At first, I was nervous," I admitted, my voice dropping to a low whisper.
"I thought Avalon would be the Grotesque War all over again. A bloodbath where we were just pawns. But for the past few days, I've been... calmer."
Navina narrowed her eyes. "Why? What changed?"
I smiled, a genuine, terrifyingly hopeful expression. "Maybe because I know that this time, once more, the devil will be by our side."
Alina tilted her head, her analytical mind struggling with the metaphor. "What do you mean, 'devil'?"
"A shadow in the night," I said.
"Someone who steals the stars just to manufacture the light. The strings and the burdens he bears... to win the war; he ensures complete dominance before the first battle is even drawn."
"Is he an S-rank ?" Navina asked, her opportunist mind already scanning for answers.
I shook my head, my silver eyes reflecting the morning light. "I was just thinking out loud. Forget it."
Navina and Alina shared a frustrated glance and sighed.
"I suppose if this 'devil' of yours is why you're calm, I hope he shows up at Avalon and just wipes the floor with the Cult ," Navina said, standing up and checking her braided hair one last time.
"I have my own hunt to prepare for."
As she departed, leaving the scent of high-frequency sensory awareness behind, I leaned back in my chair.
If he truly decides to come to the island, I don't see a future where the Cult of Nemesis survives.
I can already guess he is preparing weaponry and plans that shouldn't exist in this era, building something far more devastating than anything this world has ever seen.
He isn't just a master of strategy or a false student anymore.
He is something else entirely.
The Mastermind.
Location: Market District - Sylvaris
Perspective: Kaiser Everhart
Hachoo!
I rubbed my nose, the sharp sting of a sneeze cutting through the cold night air.
Someone was definitely talking about me. Probably Lucas or Celia—cursing my name as they huddled around a campfire in some damp ravine.
I took a final, contemplative lick of my vanilla cone, watching the last of the market lanterns flicker out.
I turned my attention to the stall ahead. Garen was still there, wiping down his counter with a rag that looked like it had seen the birth and death of three separate empires.
"You're late, kid," Garen grunted, his gravelly baritone vibrating in the quiet street. "I was about to pack her away for the night."
"I was busy establishing my finances," I said, walking up to the counter. I didn't reach for my pocket. I just stood there, letting my 'aura' do the heavy lifting.
"Besides, businessmen doesn't follow a clock."
I tossed 5 heavy gold coins onto the velvet mat. They landed with a rich, muffled thud—the sound of pure, success.
Garen stared at the coins, then at me. His eyebrows shot toward his hairline. "Already? It's been barely 48 hours since you were counting silver. Who'd you rob? The city treasury?".
"I don't rob, Garen. I con—I mean, do business," I replied, my voice flat and confident. "The coin is real. Now, give me the blade."
He chuckled, reaching under the counter to pull out the long, leather-bound sheath. He laid it out with a reverence that usually belonged to holy relics. The fang-shaped guard glinted under the moon, looking more predatory than it had in the sunlight.
"You remember her name?" Garen asked, his eyes locking onto mine with that intense, old-adventurer stare.
"The Reverend Insanity," I repeated, my fingers tracing the skull etchings on the steel. I gripped the handle, feeling the weight. The balance was off, the grip was too wide, and the recoil would probably shatter a normal human's wrist.
Perfect.
"I'm changing it," I said, looking at the black segments of the blade.
"From now on, she's The Reverend End."
Garen's eyes narrowed as he heard the faint clink-clatter of the heavy bag slung over my shoulder. He's an old pro; he hears materials like a musician hears notes.
"That bag... I hear Refined Chronos-Iron rods, Vacuum-Sealed Capacitors, Singularity-Core Gears, and... is that Conductive Mythril Filament?" Garen leaned over the counter, his voice dropping an octave.
"Those are high-grade engineering components, kid. You aren't just sharpening a sword. You're building a monster."
I didn't even blink. "You missed the Oscillating Pistons, the Negative-Entropy Springs, the Geometric-Cams, and the Harmonic Pulse-Emitters," I added, my inner monologue already running the diagnostic on how to integrate the 'Death of History' core into the hilt.
Garen went silent. His jaw didn't drop—he was too tough for that—but I saw the skin around his eyes tighten.
"Those... those are some odd materials. Forbidden architecture. You're either a god-tier engineer or a kid who really wants to explode."
"In this world, they're the same thing," I said, sliding the sword into my belt. "I'll bring her to life, Garen. Just watch the headlines."
"I hope you do, kid," he muttered, giving me a final, respectful nod.
"I really hope you do."
I walked away, the weight of the steel and the bag grounding me. 3 weeks. That's my projection. Three weeks to re-engineer the catalyst and turn this "unpredictable" toy into a weapon of absolute end.
I looked up at the gathering clouds. 3 months until the Avalon Island Raid...
he "S-ranks" are preening their feathers.
Let them.
I looked at my palms.
Lucas and Celia are outgrowing their fear. They're standing on their own feet now, fueled by the ego I ignited with a few well-placed 'miracles'. By the time Avalon opens, they'll be more than enough to handle the Cult of Nemesis.
I don't care about the Cult. I hate them for what they did to Elfie, but my hate is a tool, not a shackle.
Vengeance won't wake her up. What will? Eve? No… she is still a 'miracle' oddness I haven't deciphered yet… but something else makes it certain.
The heart of a Primordial Beast. The materials for the miracle cure.
I don't have the luxury of a revenge tour.
I have an objective.
That's the only reason I didn't join their little hero-party in the beginning. Why lead them when I can just watch them evolve from the shadows?
"Anyway," I sighed, the air hitting my face.
"I've worked enough for the morning. I think I've earned some chocolate ice cream."
"That'll be yummy."
[Narrator Voice]
Kaiser Everhart had made a cold, calculated declaration. He had stepped back from the board, leaving the pieces to move on their own. He believed he had outsourced the labor of heroism to those he called his "masterpieces."
But in the game of shadows, can any raid truly be successful when the marionettist lets go of the strings? Or perhaps, as the "Death of History" begins its silent reconstruction, the world will realize that someone else is holding the strings now—someone who doesn't care about the script at all.