....
The roar of collapsing waves shook the fleet to its core. Ships capsized, masts snapped, men screamed as the sea swallowed them.
Yet above it all, Riureas floated, his cloak snapping in the storm's fury, his hand steady on the hilt of the Author's Sword.
The cut in the clouds remained. It stretched wider, light spilling through like an open wound in the heavens.
The battlefield froze, every soldier---Federation and enemy alike---staring upward in disbelief.
Draegor clenched his fists, lightning sparking violently across his body. His voice was half-snarl, half-laugh.
Draegor: "So that's the power you hold… not a man, not even a mage. You're a calamity wearing flesh."
Riureas's eyes glowed faintly. He shifted the sword, letting it hum with a rhythm like the scratch of a quill across parchment.
Riureas: "No. Not calamity. Correction."
Another swing, lighter than the first, and the ocean bent unnaturally, flattening into a calm stretch that cut between the two fleets.
The storm winds recoiled, leaving a hollow silence as though the world itself held its breath.
Federation sailors shouted in awe. Some dropped to their knees, believing they had just witnessed divine judgment.
But Draegor only grinned wider, stepping onto the calm waters Riureas had carved.
Draegor: "Good. Then I don't need to hold back either."
The storm answered him, lightning crawling up his arms until his entire body shone like a thunder god. With a single leap, he closed the gap, his fist colliding with Riureas's blade---storm and ink exploding in a shockwave that tore the sea apart once more.
The true duel had only just begun.
The clash shook the heavens, storm and ink tearing the sea apart.
Riureas held firm, his blade humming with restrained power, while Draegor's grin only widened.
Then Draegor stepped back. His lightning dimmed for a moment---only to flare again, this time tainted. The blue-white glow turned blood-red, crackling with a sickening hiss.
The air grew heavy, foul, as if reality itself rejected what he was doing.
Riureas (narrowing his eyes): "…That aura. What did you do?"
Draegor's laugh was low, savage.
Draegor: "Corrupted magic. A power this world buried long ago. A power that breaks the rules your sword loves so much."
He raised his hand. The lightning bent unnaturally, splitting into jagged, crimson arrows. They didn't fly straight; they writhed midair, like snakes hunting their prey.
Dozens shot forward, twisting around Riureas's defenses, each one screaming with distorted energy.
Riureas cut several down, the Author's Sword erasing them mid-flight, but one bolt exploded beside him, shattering the calm path he had carved into the sea. Water erupted upward, sharp as blades, laced with red sparks.
Federation soldiers on distant ships screamed as more corrupted lightning rained across the battlefield. It didn't just burn wood and flesh,it infected them. Sailors writhed, veins glowing red before collapsing lifelessly.
Elizabeth's voice rang across the waters, full of alarm.
Elizabeth: "That magic—it's not supposed to exist!"
Draegor's corrupted aura surged, wrapping around his fists like molten chains.
Draegor: "Not supposed to, but here it is.
Let's see if your so-called 'author's blade' can erase something that was never written into this world."
He lunged, crimson lightning twisting around him, faster, heavier, unnatural.
The clash of thunder and ink tore the skies apart, but Riureas didn't flinch. He flicked his wrist, the Author's Sword glowing brighter, symbols rippling across the blade like shifting sentences.
Riureas (calmly): "This storm… this sky… it distracts too much."
He swung once--not at Draegor, but at the ocean beneath them.
The sea obeyed. Its raging waves flattened in an instant, spreading outward in all directions until the ocean became a still, endless mirror.
The storm clouds groaned above, lightning scattering across the distant horizon but refusing to strike near them.
Now only two figures stood, their feet touching the water's glassy surface--Riureas with his ink-born blade, and Draegor wrapped in his corrupted lightning.
The Federation and enemy fleets drifted far on the edges of this sudden calm, watching in silence.
None dared cross into the circle of stillness.
Draegor smirked, his red lightning hissing around him.
Draegor: "A stage just for us, then? Fitting. The world can watch its 'author' be destroyed."
Riureas leveled his sword.
Riureas: "No. The world can watch its mistake be corrected."
Without another word, the two charged.
The water exploded beneath each step, yet somehow remained whole, holding them aloft.
Draegor's corrupted bolts ripped across the surface, staining the sea red, while Riureas's blade carved luminous arcs, each swing rewriting the water to protect him.
Every strike shook the ocean like an earthquake. Every clash of blade and lightning lit up the horizon.
It was no longer a war of armies. It was a duel that would decide whether the ocean itself belonged to corruption or correction.
The sea was still----silent, holding its breath.
Then in an instant, the silence shattered.
Draegor shot forward first, red lightning blasting from his heels, the water exploding beneath him. His fist crackled with corrupted aura, jagged arcs snapping outward like claws.
Riureas met him head-on. The Author's Sword swung in a blur, ink-light spilling in wide arcs, each slash erasing the red bolts before they could touch him. Sparks of lightning and shards of written light scattered across the ocean's surface, hissing as they vanished into steam.
The two moved too fast for the eye to follow. One moment, Draegor was above, slamming down with thunderous strikes that could shatter mountains--the next, Riureas had already parried, his counterstroke carving glowing rifts into the water that stitched themselves shut behind him.
Draegor (grinning, shouting over the clash): "Faster! Show me if that blade of yours can keep up!"
Riureas (calm, unwavering): "You'll break before I do."
The sea rippled violently under their duel. Each step sent shockwaves racing outward, tossing the fleets at the edges like toys in a child's bath.
Soldiers clung to rails, staring wide-eyed at the two figures who moved like gods.
Draegor unleashed a storm of crimson spears, corrupt lightning splitting into hundreds of searing bolts.
Riureas answered with a single wide swing, Downfall Quill—splitting the ocean upward into a massive wall of water that swallowed the attack, then collapsed back into place.
The battlefield was no longer storm, sea, or sky.
It was just them---raw speed, power, and will, colliding again and again until the world itself seemed ready to tear apart.
The ocean rang with every clash, a battlefield turned into an endless mirror shattered by each strike.
Draegor's corrupted lightning split the sea in jagged red cracks, his fists hammering like thunder, but Riureas's blade always answered---sometimes by cutting, sometimes by rewriting.
Every time their powers collided, Draegor's aura flickered, his red lightning scattering in uneven bursts.
Riureas pressed forward without breaking stride. His movements were calm, efficient---every swing of the Author's Sword landed close, too close, forcing Draegor to block with raw power.
Each deflection left burns across his arms, lines of light etching into his corrupted aura.
Draegor (gritting teeth): "Tch… you---"
Riureas's next strike sent him skidding back across the water, his boots carving long trenches into the surface. Blood sprayed from a shallow cut on his shoulder, hissing as it touched the ocean.
The corrupted magic around him flared angrily, unstable.
Riureas's expression didn't change. His voice was steady, almost cold.
Riureas: "You've been forcing yourself. That magic isn't yours----it's eating you."
Draegor roared, charging again, red lightning wrapping his whole body, but Riureas met him with a burst of speed, blade flashing faster than the storm could follow.
The Author's Sword carved through Draegor's aura, peeling it away with every stroke.
The duel remained fierce,water exploding, light and lightning ripping across the horizon, but the truth was clear: Draegor's blows left scratches, Riureas's cuts left wounds.
For every ten strikes Draegor unleashed, one of Riureas's was enough to push him closer to breaking.
The ocean shuddered as Draegor bled, his aura flickering. Then he laughed, lightning warping into crimson-black.
Draegor: "Fine. If you want my pain—take it!"
His body flared, every wound glowing red.
A wave of corrupted lightning spread outward, chains of energy latching onto Riureas.
The strike hit.
Riureas staggered as cuts tore across his body, burns searing his skin--injuries he hadn't received, but Draegor had.
Draegor (roaring): "Ultimate Skill---Corrupted Pain! Every wound of mine becomes yours!"
The sea split beneath the force. Draegor's laughter echoed, twisted with agony and triumph.
Riureas tightened his grip, the Author's Sword trembling, glowing brighter with shifting words.
His voice cut through the storm, low but unshaken.
Riureas: "Then I'll erase pain itself."
The blade pulsed,ink rising into the sky.
The ocean shook as Riureas and Draegor prepared their final clash, corrupted lightning and ink-born light tearing the horizon apart. Both lunged, their powers colliding...
Then Draegor froze. His eyes widened in shock.
A hand burst through his chest, blood spraying across the still waters.
His corrupted aura flickered violently, then shattered like glass.
Riureas stopped mid-swing, narrowing his eyes.
A voice echoed, calm and mocking.
???: "Author… I see you were about to unleash something troublesome.
Good thing I arrived in time."
Draegor's body convulsed once before collapsing, and from within him, a man stepped out---untouched, his presence suffocating.
His aura wasn't wild like Draegor's, but controlled, heavy, deliberate.
Riureas's gaze sharpened. He recognized that face.
The man smiled faintly, spreading his hands as if greeting an old friend.
Elven Nu: "Greetings. I am Elven Nu… the creator of corrupted magic."
The sea went silent, every soldier on every ship struck dumb by the revelation.
Riureas tightened his grip on the Author's Sword.
The real battle had only just begun.
Riureas lowered his blade slightly, his eyes never leaving the man before him. The ocean was silent, save for the faint hiss of Draegor's corpse sinking beneath the waves.
Riureas (calm, steady): "Are you… the one I think you are? It's you, isn't it? The abnormality I sensed before."
Elven Nu's smile widened, his eyes gleaming with quiet amusement.
Elven Nu: "Sharp, as expected of the so-called Author. Yes… I am the fracture in your perfect tale. The flaw you couldn't erase."
The corrupted aura around him shimmered faintly, but unlike Draegor's wild storm, Nu's presence was suffocatingly controlled---like a page already written, a sentence carved in stone.
Riureas tightened his grip on the Author's Sword, the air bending faintly around him.
Riureas: "…Then this was never Draegor's war. It was yours."
Elven Nu chuckled softly, spreading his hands as though welcoming the accusation.
Elven Nu: "Correct.
Draegor was a pawn… a loud, destructive one, but still a pawn. His corruption was only a draft. I am the final version."
Riureas's eyes narrowed. Pieces began to fall into place.
Riureas: "…So it was you. The broken trade routes, the sabotaged seas, the invisible paths cut apart… all of it was your doing."
Elven Nu tilted his head, as though Riureas had just solved a riddle meant for children.
Elven Nu:
"Of course. Empires rise and fall not by swords, but by trade. Why waste armies when I can choke the lifeblood of nations with a single stroke of corruption? The Eastern Treaty, the Federation, even the seas themselves---bound by rules. But I? I write new ones."
He spread his arms. The red aura around him surged, distorting the waves, making the ocean itself tremble.
Elven Nu: "And soon, the entire world will drown in a market I control. No routes, no roads, no oceans exist unless I will them to."
Riureas's grip tightened on the Author's Sword.
Riureas (cold): "You think yourself above the script… but you're nothing more than a parasite feeding on it."
Elven Nu smirked.
Elven Nu: "Then prove it, Author. Rewrite me."
The ocean roared as their auras clashed again, the sea itself twisting between ink and corruption.
Riureas slowly lowered his blade, letting it fade into motes of light.
The sea quieted, as though holding its breath. Then he raised his hand and snapped his fingers.
At once, his body blazed with power--an aura of black, purple, and crimson fire swirled around him, bending the very air.
The flames did not burn the sea; they rewrote it, turning waves into ink and light before reshaping them again.
Elven Nu only grinned.
His own aura erupted in answer, red and black flames bursting outward, jagged and alive like living corruption.
The ocean hissed under its touch, rotting wherever the aura spread.
The two forces pushed against one another, the water trembling between them.
Clouds tore apart above as their power collided, light and shadow spiraling into a storm of creation and ruin.
Elven Nu (smirking): "So, you finally shed the sword and reveal the true core of your power… good. Let's see if your authorship can withstand my corruption."
Riureas (calm but sharp): "You're not a rival. You're an error. And errors… are erased."
The sea split apart, forming a vast circle of calm water where only the two of them stood---flame against flame, aura against aura. The duel of conquerors had begun.
The ocean trembled. Riureas's flame of black-purple-red surged against Elven Nu's crimson-black corruption.
Their auras clashed like living storms, neither yielding, each pressing to swallow the other.
The sky tore open above them. Waves rose and collapsed as if the sea itself was being crushed under their wills.
From a distance, Clara, Elra, Crystella,yullues, Elizabeth and the sailors could only watch. None dared step closer.
The air was so heavy it bent their knees; the clash of two forces threatened to erase anything that lingered too near.
Clara (clutching her chest): "That pressure… it's nothing like before."
Elra (grim): "No. This isn't just magic. It's something far greater----his aura is fighting for the world itself."
The battlefield had gone silent.
All eyes fixed on the two figures at the center of the ocean, where creation and corruption wrestled to decide whose will would shape what came next.
Elven Nu's laughter rumbled low, his aura crackling.
Elven Nu: "Before all this, this world wasn't as you believe. Wait… you? No---you didn't write this world. Let me explain. You know of the Eternal Quills, yes? All five of them are your Creators. They brought you here, into their world, for one purpose--"
But before the revelation could land, Riureas's voice cut through like a blade.
Riureas (coldly): "I don't care."
In that instant, Elven Nu faltered. The corruption aura around him flickered---gone in a blink. His eyes widened as he found himself no longer above the sea, but swallowed by Riureas's domain.
The Author's presence blanketed everything, absolute and undeniable.
Narration: Riureas didn't argue. He didn't demand answers.
With a snap of will, he rewrote Elven Nu's very place in reality. From that moment on, Elven Nu was no longer a threat, no longer a understand--only a myth, a forgotten echo erased from the world's truth.
The sea calmed. The storm died. All that remained was Riureas's steady gaze, and the silence of a battle no one would ever fully understand.
The enemy ships slowed. White flags rose one by one, fluttering weakly in the dying storm. Soon, the fleets turned back, retreating from Federation waters. The sea that moments ago had roared with chaos now lay eerily calm.
On the deck, Clara, Elra, Crystella, yullues and Elizabeth stood silent. No one spoke. The weight of what they had just witnessed pressed on them heavier than the battle itself.
Riureas broke the silence, his voice steady, cold, yet laced with resolve.
Riureas: "I don't care. If there's truth to be found, I'll uncover it myself."
He turned his gaze to the horizon, the ember relic faintly glowing in his hand. The war had ended---but the real answers were only beginning.
The morning sun poured through the wide windows of Clara's mansion. For once, the halls were quiet---not with the silence of war, but the steady rhythm of preparation. Bags were being packed, maps rolled, weapons sharpened.
Elra moved back and forth, folding supplies with her usual precision. Crystella stood by the window, her breath fogging the glass as she tested her ice magic in small, careful bursts. Elizabeth was in the corner, checking the durability of her armor while sipping tea as if this were any ordinary outing.
Clara hummed softly as she tied bundles of food together, the smell of fresh bread and herbs filling the air. Even Yullues, still adjusting to her recovered memories, carefully tucked old journals and scrolls into her satchel.
At the study table, Riureas sat with a map spread before him. His eyes weren't on the food, or the bags, or even the others---he was focused on the center of that map. The massive circular lake, drawn in bold ink. The Lake of Origins.
Finally, Clara broke the calm.
Clara: "So… it really starts today. A new adventure."
Riureas stood, rolling the map with slow determination.
Riureas: "Yes. And unlike before, this isn't just war. This time, we're searching for the truth."
The room grew still at his words. Everyone knew this journey would not just test their strength, but shake the foundations of the world itself.
Outside, the carriages were waiting. The path to the Eternal Quills had begun.
The carriages rumbled along the dirt road, wheels kicking up dust under the bright afternoon sun. After days of travel, the group finally reached the borders of a land that once carried only fear---Frozenfire.
But what they found was no longer the battlefield they remembered. The banners of war were gone, and in their place rose new standards of silver and blue.
Towns that had once been buried in frost and blood now bustled with rebuilding. Farmers tilled soil that had never seen a plow, children ran through streets once scarred by battle, and stone walls gleamed as if declaring a new dawn.
The kingdom was reborn.
Its people called it Frostveil, a name meant to bury the horrors of Frozenfire and signal peace.
And at its heart stood a young monarch, chosen by the survivors, who wished to join hands with the Novelista Federation rather than clash against it.
As Riureas and his companions entered the capital gates, Clara let out a low whistle.
Clara: "Hard to believe this was the same land that tried to burn us to the ground."
Crystella's gaze softened as she watched a child carry water for their family.
Crystella: "It seems… even in ruins, life can bloom again."
Riureas said nothing. His eyes studied the great banners of Frostveil fluttering in the wind.
Though this kingdom had risen from Frozenfire's ashes, something about its sudden rebirth, its speed of growth, unsettled him.
Inside the newly built hall, the young monarch awaited. They bowed deeply, their voice steady despite their youth.
Frostveil Monarch: "Welcome, Riureas Crossheart, and honored guests. We owe our peace to your battle. And now, if you will hear me,I would like Frostveil to stand beside you in the Federation's future."