Far from the sparkling beach and cheerful crowds, on the remote side of the Island of the Demonic Ruins, a different world unfolded.
Beyond the edge of the reclaimed forest, the land dipped into a rocky basin surrounded by steep cliffs and jagged outcrops.
Viewed from above, the weathered stone formations scattered across the basin almost seemed to form the silhouette of a massive, reclining ancient giant its limbs twisted, its head tilted skyward.
Tourists flocked to this very spot.
Some stood atop the strange rock structures, posing for photos with their enchanted magic cameras. Others strolled about, marveling at the unique geology. A few even set up easels and quietly painted the mysterious landscape.
It was lively.
Carefree.
But beneath that peaceful scene, a chilling crisis was already brewing.
Far below, deep beneath the fossilized bones of the so-called "giant," a hidden labyrinth stretched through the heart of the island.
Dim oil lamps flickered weakly along the cold stone corridor. Each quiet drip… drip… of water echoed through the passage like the whisper of something ancient and malicious.
There was no visible entrance to this underground space. And at the corridor's end, buried in silence, sat a concealed chamber its size modest, its energy suffocating.
Inside, a group of robed figures stood in solemn formation.
They were gathered before a stone altar etched with complex magical runes that pulsed faintly in the dark.
At the head of the group stood a small, wiry man.
His cloak hung heavily on his shoulders. A long, jagged scar ran across half his face, twisting his expression into something monstrous under the lamplight.
This was no ordinary cultist.
He was the true architect of the pirate conspiracy.
The man who had manipulated everything from the shadows. The real Marshall.
"Lord Marshall, do you really intend to awaken Lord Hollow Drum early?" one of the robed followers asked hesitantly.
Marshall stood motionless before the ancient stone platform, its glowing inscriptions humming with eerie power.
"The plan has been exposed," he said, voice low and cold. "If we don't act now, it will be too late."
His gaze never left the altar. This was the heart of the Eighteen Battle God Hollow Drum, the slumbering evil spirit sealed beneath the island.
"But… with only the magic power we've gathered so far, won't it fall short of the ideal level of perfection?" the cultist asked, raising his hand and pointing toward the far corner of the chamber.
There, behind swirling space-distortion runes, stood a sealed dungeon.
Inside, dozens of magicians were trapped.
Some were lone travelers. Others had come in teams guildmates, friends, comrades.
All had been captured while responding to commissions or exploring the island.
Now, realizing what fate awaited them, fear was etched across every face. Despair hung thick in the air.
"There's no time to worry about perfection," Marshall replied firmly. "We'll awaken it now. The ones who aren't strong enough will be drawn to us later."
His voice echoed ominously in the chamber.
There were three conditions required to summon Hollow Drum, the God of War among the Eighteen Battle Gods of Evil:
The blood of a descendant of the Evil Demon An enormous amount of magical power And most important of all: human sacrifice
Blood awakens the demon's soul and will. Magic power restores its shattered body.
And sacrifices?
Sacrifices complete the descent bringing its true body into the world.
That final step was the key.
And it was the very reason Marshall had gone out of his way to publicize the Hell Ruins, transforming the forgotten island into a tourist attraction backed by Fiore's government.
He needed people.
Lots of them.
He needed sacrifices to usher in the "World of God" that he dreamed of.
"We understand, Lord Marshall," the robed cultists replied in unison, bowing their heads.
The cultists gave firm nods, unwavering in their loyalty.
Without hesitation, they moved to carry out Marshall's order.
"Bring those wizards forward. Prepare the extraction ritual," Marshall commanded flatly.
Then, without flinching, he pulled out a jagged ceremonial dagger.
With a swift motion, he dragged the blade across his palm.
Blood flowed freely.
It dripped onto the ancient stone platform at the center of the chamber the Heart Altar of Hollow Drum.
Buzz!
The moment the blood touched stone, the effect was instantaneous.
Like tossing a torch into dry kindling, the dormant magic etched into the altar roared to life. Crimson runes blazed across the surface, tracing the twisted form of the sealed evil god.
A violent scarlet light burst forth, piercing the darkness and flooding the chamber in a blood-red glow.
The light surged outward like a tidal wave, racing down the corridor at impossible speed, crawling along the floor, walls, and ceiling.
It didn't just illuminate the tunnel.
It was the tunnel.
The underground passageways themselves were the blood vessels of the slumbering demon.
Above, the mages trapped in the dungeon began to scream voices full of fear and pain.
Their magic was being pulled from their bodies, siphoned mercilessly toward the altar.
Their energy fused into the crimson stream, strengthening the pulsing ritual.
Boom...
Dong-dong...
Boom boom boom!
The stone platform throbbed like a beating heart slowly at first, then faster, louder, and heavier.
Each pulse shook the chamber.
Each beat felt like thunder.
The ancient presence hidden within the island was stirring.
And with it came a creeping sense of dread dark, oppressive, and monstrous.
Above ground.
In the center of the island's basin.
The earth began to tremble.
In the middle of the tourist attraction specifically the hollowed-out Demon's Skull site something terrifying erupted.
A blinding red light burst from the depths of the giant, empty eye sockets carved into the rock.
It was dazzling. Violent. Unnatural.
Before the stunned tourists could even process what they were seeing, the "ruin head" once thought to be just an elaborate stone structure suddenly rose from the earth, dragging sand and boulders with it like waves crashing up from underground.
Boom boom boom!!
The island shook.
Not a tremor an upheaval.
The entire landmass rumbled violently, jolting trees, cracking pathways, and sending seabirds shrieking into the skies.
Wild animals bolted from the forest in full stampede.
"What's going on?!"
On the beach, Mira who had been calmly discussing future promotional work with the Magic Weekly editor snapped her head around.
Her sharp senses had already locked onto the source of the shaking.
She turned toward the ruins, her face suddenly serious.
A mass of tourists was stampeding toward the beach.
Panic gripped their faces.
Screams filled the air.
Behind them, a monstrous cloud of dust rose high into the sky, and from within that swirling chaos...
A giant figure began to emerge.
It stood slowly.
Massive.
Its glowing red eyes glared fiercely over the island. Its sheer size blotted out the setting sun, casting a long, terrifying shadow over the golden beach.
A god-like presence had awakened.
"Sister Mira!" the Dark Magician Girl cried out beside her. "That's magic it's massive! I can feel an unbelievably powerful magic!"
The Dark Magician Girl's pupils shrank as she stared at the towering figure now looming over the island.
Her usual playful demeanor was gone replaced by deep, uneasy focus.
"This magic… it's nothing like I've ever seen before," she whispered. "It feels ancient… powerful… deeper than anything modern. What is that thing...?"
They didn't have to wait long for an answer.
A terrified tourist, one of the first to make it back to the beach, collapsed into the sand in front of them, eyes wide, face pale with panic.
"The Evil Demon… the Eighteen Battle Gods of Evil… one of them's been resurrected!!"
He scrambled to his feet, shouting frantically.
"Run! Run for your lives! I need to get on the ship I need to get off this cursed island!!"
Screaming, he tripped over himself and took off toward the magic-powered vessel docked at the shore, crawling and stumbling as if the devil himself were chasing him.
Mira's face turned grave.
She didn't need any more details.
She spun around, her voice sharp and commanding as she shouted to the stunned Magic Weekly editor.
"This is an emergency. Contact the Council immediately. Request backup!"
"Y-Yes! I'll do it right away!"
The editor fumbled to activate the communication lacrima, hands trembling. Then he hesitated and looked back at Mira.
"Miss Mira what about you?!"
Mira didn't hesitate.
"I'm going to stop that thing."
Her voice was calm. Firm.
"I can't let it get anywhere near the magic boat."
Without waiting for another word, she slipped on her windbreaker, tightened the straps at her wrists, and stepped forward to face the monstrous silhouette slowly advancing from the ruins.
She had no idea how strong it was.
She didn't care.
She may not have been at her peak anymore. She may have been filming, smiling, living a peaceful life lately.
But that didn't matter now.
Because her heart had never changed.
Because justice… kindness… and the will to protect
Those things never fade.
She was a wizard.
And when crisis strikes… a wizard must stand.
"Sister Mira, I'm going with you!"
The Dark Magician Girl stepped forward, her expression firm.
In a flash, she summoned her magic robe and staff, the air around her humming with energy as she took her battle stance.
She knew Mira's condition.
She knew that Sister Mira no longer had the full strength she once commanded.
But none of that mattered.
Because just like her master Chase, she had already come to see Mira as her own family.
A sister she would protect no matter the cost.
Mira turned slightly, eyes meeting hers.
Their gazes locked for just a second.
Then Mira gave a firm nod.
"Let's go."
The two of them pushed forward, moving against the panicking crowd that surged toward the beach. Side by side, they raced toward the approaching monster.
By the time they reached the foot of the creature the so-called Drum of the Void the scene was utter chaos.
The streets were cracked and broken.
Stalls and props had been shattered. The bright decorations meant for tourism and fun were now buried in dust and debris.
Countless tourists who had failed to escape in time were trapped under fallen rubble or running aimlessly, completely overcome by fear.
Some had collapsed to the ground, paralyzed by terror. Others trembled uncontrollably, their pants soaked through, watching helplessly as the massive foot of the demon god lifted into the sky and
BOOM!
With a single, casual stomp, the Drum of the Void shook the entire island.
The ground cracked.
A wave of dust erupted outward, engulfing everything in its path.
Within the haze, something flickered soft and glowing.
A gentle pink light pulsed from the heart of the smoke.
The Dark Magician Girl flew swiftly through the air, seated atop her levitating staff.
In her arms, she cradled a terrified young tourist who had narrowly escaped being crushed beneath the demon's feet.
With practiced control, she soared out of the Drum of the Void's stomping range and gently landed at a safer point near the island's outer perimeter. Without wasting a second, she passed the frightened child to a group of fleeing survivors.
Then she turned back immediately eyes sharp with determination.
Meanwhile, on the ground, Mira was directing the crowds still trapped in the rubble.
She guided the lost and panicked tourists toward the coastline, her voice cutting through the noise like a lighthouse through fog.
"Head to the beach! Stay together move quickly!"
With Mira coordinating on the ground and the Dark Magician Girl providing aerial support, the trapped civilians were swiftly cleared out of the most dangerous zone.
Their teamwork was seamless.
But high above, deep inside the creature's consciousness, Marshall whose spirit had merged with the remnants of the Drum of the Void watched all of this unfold.
A mocking sneer twisted across his face.
"Haha… no matter where you go, there are always fools who rush forward thinking they can stop me…"
His eyes locked onto the Dark Magician Girl, who was weaving through the sky again.
He would not allow her to interfere.
No one would stop him from completing the harvest of sacrifices.
With a surge of malice, he directed one of the demon's massive black arms to sweep toward her.
The giant limb tore through the air like a wrecking ball, bending space itself with its sheer force. Winds screamed in its wake.
The Dark Magician Girl's instincts flared instantly.
Still mid-flight, she twisted around, shielding the small girl she had just saved with her body.
Her staff pulsed as she summoned energy to her fingertips.
"Super Magic Wave Cannon!"
Boom!
A brilliant dark-pink beam shot from her staff, slicing through the sky like lightning.
It struck the incoming black palm directly exploding into a spray of blinding sparks.
The sky lit up with flashes of purple and gold as the demon's hand recoiled slightly, slowing its pursuit.
Want to read ahead, share your fandom thoughts, or just fuel my translation caffeine habit? or if you want to support me please Join me on Patreon here! :
patreon.com/Keep_ItUp