The first pulse—
The world's magic rose ever so slightly. Most species remained unchanged, not sensing any difference.
…
The tenth pulse—
Again, the world's magic crept upward, but to most creatures, nothing seemed amiss.
…
The hundredth pulse—
The increase became more noticeable. Many lifeforms felt a faint strangeness, some underwent minor changes, but the effect on the world remained slight.
…
The thousandth pulse—
The rise in magic grew evident. Most species felt discomfort, some even agony—an intense tearing sensation in their very bodies.
Anxiety. Pain. Restlessness.
Many creatures began undergoing visible mutations, and in some regions, small-scale beast tides erupted.
…
The ten-thousandth pulse—
Magic reached a level of thick concentration. Magical beasts and plants expanded wildly, their bodies swelling to massive proportions. The land suffered further desertification, while some species vanished entirely.
Strange natural phenomena appeared. Inanimate matter began exhibiting signs of consciousness, birthing new forms of life that competed with existing species for dominance in the ecosystem.
…
The hundred-thousandth pulse—
Traces of magic crystals began appearing on the Earth's surface. Below the floating islands, eruptions of magic surged visibly into the sky.
The underground magical ley lines shone bright, their light piercing through the soil.
Countless sky islands were pushed even higher, while numerous species perished.
…
The millionth pulse—
From the surface down to two thousand meters below, all matter transformed into pure magic crystal. Native species of the surface were nearly annihilated, while countless new forms of life exploded into existence.
Snap.
Somewhere in a nameless library, a figure cloaked in black lowered the book he held. His face was hidden by shadows. He tore out the page containing the prophecy, stared at it for a long while, then set it back on the table before silently leaving.
Moments after his departure, the scene shifted—
The words on the page became clear: a record of events from the first pulse to the millionth, detailing what might unfold.
Before the prophecy could be fully read, black light spread from the page's edges. In an instant, the parchment and its prophecy alike dissolved into ash.
"…Still the same as always. Magic is nothing but a curse."
The cryptic words lingered in the air.
The view shifted once more—
The magic pulse currently sweeping across the world was still only in its single digits. Most species felt nothing at all from these subtle changes.
Edolas, Royal Capital.
Boom!
From the direction of the palace erupted a blinding light. A wave of magical pulse rippled outward, engulfing the city.
"Hurry! Engineers, fix the Anima Core immediately!"
Byro's eyes were bloodshot as he glared at the violently trembling core, its brilliance nearly unbearable.
"Chief Strategist—the Anima Core… It's over. It's completely unsalvageable."
A trembling magitech engineer arrived, his voice unsteady. Repair was impossible.
"What did you say?!!"
Byro's fury exploded. He hurled a vial, and from the ground burst a massive tentacle, seizing all the engineers at once. His voice dripped venom:
"I'll say it again—repair the Anima Core! Or every one of you… will die!!"
With his last word, the tentacle tightened. Bones cracked audibly, veins bulged.
"Ugh!"
The engineers cried out, but forced a single word through clenched teeth: "Y–yes…"
"Seal all news. The capital is under martial law—no one enters, no one leaves. Keep every newspaper, every press under strict watch. I don't want a single rumor leaking out!"
Byro barked, glaring at the soldiers.
But then—
"No. That won't be necessary."
The voice was old, accompanied by steady footsteps. A figure approached, staff tapping against the floor with every step.
"Your Majesty!!"
Byro turned in rage, but when he recognized the man, his expression instantly shifted. Shame overwhelmed him. He collapsed to his knees, sobbing uncontrollably.
"The Anima Core… it's already…"
"That's enough, Byro. You've done well."
King Faust lifted him gently, no anger in his tone, no reproach in his eyes. Only calm resignation.
"This is merely… an accident."
"Release them."
Faust glanced toward the engineers still trapped by the tentacle.
"Yes, Your Majesty."
The tentacle loosened. The engineers fell to the ground, gasping in relief, and immediately bowed deeply.
"Thank you, Your Majesty."
But Faust's next command froze every mind present.
"Excavate the Anima Core."
Silence fell instantly.
"…What?"
For a heartbeat, everyone thought they'd misheard. Excavate the Anima Core?
Excavate the Anima Core!!!
Was this their king speaking? Could it be an Exceed impersonator?!
"Your Majesty—the Anima Core is our only hope! To save this world, we can't abandon it!!"
Byro dropped to his knees once more, tears streaming down his face, pleading desperately.
Even the engineers who had just pronounced it unsalvageable now knelt together, begging:
"Your Majesty, please—give us another chance to repair it!"
"No. There's no need."
Faust's tone was calm, his expression tinged with faint regret—before shifting into wild fervor. His voice thundered:
"I understand your thoughts. But it is enough. Your focus has always been on the collapse of the Anima Core. But ask yourselves—why did it collapse?"
His words struck like lightning. The grief clouding everyone's minds shattered, leaving only stunned clarity.
"…Yes. Why? Why did it collapse? There must be a reason."
Byro racked his brain until a word spoken earlier resurfaced in his memory—overload.
The engineers realized it at the same moment. They met each other's eyes, nodding as one.
"Overload."
"The Anima Core absorbed an unimaginable volume of magic from Aslant. We did not fail—on the contrary, we succeeded."
Faust's face lit with joy.
"But… we found no magic crystals."
"That is another matter. Perhaps a program error prevented crystallization. Or perhaps the magic was transferred elsewhere."
Faust's voice remained steady.
Even so, the outcome was far preferable to outright failure.
And in truth—
The collapse of the Anima Core might not be a curse, but a blessing.
As long as retreat existed, men would falter. Only with no way back—only when the ships were burned and the bridges destroyed—could the greatest power be gathered.
"Excavate the Anima Core. Extract its heart."
Faust commanded again. This time, none dared oppose him.
"Yes, Your Majesty."
The heart of Anima was an ancient relic: a magic crystal of spacetime, colossal in power but violently unstable. Even when removed, it was useless in daily life, production, or technology.
But it possessed a single, overwhelming ability—
Precognition.
One who fused with the spacetime crystal gained limited foresight. But the price was steep: rejection by the world, a death within ten years, and the near-total loss of fertility.
This was one of the kingdom's deepest secrets.
And it was exactly what Faust needed.
He required foresight—to seek out the lost magic, and to command the war against the Exceed.
Soon, a crystal sphere was brought forth—no larger than a man's fist.
"Prepare the operation."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
The others, unaware of the secret, obeyed without hesitation.
…
As the kingdom's leaders busied themselves in secret, others schemed for personal profit. Without the promise of eternal magic, too many found themselves unwilling to fade quietly away.
Dozens gathered—fat-bellied nobles, imposing generals, and a refined, scholarly youth among them.
Their faces might not have been their true ones, but their influence was undeniable. They held power across the kingdom, controlling its wealth and lifeblood.
They sat together, plotting how to sell the kingdom itself for the highest price.
"This must be reported to the gods," suggested the scholar.
"And we must exaggerate the kingdom's ambitions," added another.
"But what of the price?" a third asked.
"I propose a new system—a kingdom governed jointly by all of us."
"No king?"
"Of course not. A council will suffice. We vote on every matter."
"…Interesting."
"I agree."
Schemes bloomed behind every gaze. Each man studied the others, and when their eyes met, all wore the expression of men bound by common purpose.
Edolas would gain a few new characters—but not without reason. The author would ensure their addition fits the logic of the original story.