The endless expanse of Codex Akasha remained perfectly still, its luminous data streams drifting like silent stars in an infinite void. For a long moment, neither Raphael nor Cielux spoke. She watched him—really watched him—her blue eyes narrowing not in suspicion, but in quiet, genuine concern.
"…Master," she said softly.
Raphael Arzenon glanced at her, his posture as relaxed as ever. "What is it?"
Cielux hesitated for only a heartbeat before asking, "Why are you so carefree?"
Raphael blinked. "Carefree?"
"Yes." Her voice stayed calm but firm. "Even in situations where your existence is on the verge of being erased… you don't react the way you should."
Raphael tilted his head slightly, studying her. "Give me an example."
Cielux didn't look away. "The moment I just showed you." The space around them flickered faintly, echoing the memory of his near-erasure. "You were being overwritten. Your existence was collapsing. And yet, you barely reacted."
Silence stretched between them.
Raphael stood there for a moment, then exhaled quietly and ran a hand through his hair. You can see my memories, can't you? he thought.
Cielux nodded once.
"Then you already know." His gaze drifted away from her, toward the endless horizon of drifting data. For once, he didn't smile. "I was abused. Tortured. As a child."
The space around them dimmed slightly. Raphael's fingers curled loosely at his side. "It got to the point where something in me just… stopped caring."
Pain… fear… desperation… I remember all of it. But none of it stayed.
"Yeah, I want to become a mage like Solomon," he continued, his voice steady but quieter now. "But at the same time… there's a part of me that doesn't really care if I live or die."
Cielux's expression tightened.
Raphael glanced back at her, his golden eyes calm yet distant. "That's the part you're seeing. Not arrogance. Just a broken way of thinking."
He looked upward into the artificial sky. When I go into battle… If I die, then that's it. It just means I was never worthy enough to win. But if I survive… then maybe I was meant to keep going. "That's all it is," he finished quietly.
Silence followed—not empty, but heavy.
Cielux stared at him. For once, she had no immediate answer. Instead, she stepped closer. "Master," she said softly, her voice lacking its usual teasing tone. "You are allowed to want to live. You don't need to treat your life like a test you can fail." She placed a hand gently against his arm. "You already exist. That alone has value."
Raphael didn't respond right away. He simply stood there, looking at her. Something in his expression shifted—just slightly.
And then the world shattered.
Not violently. Instantly.
Codex Akasha collapsed into fragments of light, dissolving into nothingness.
Far beyond that inner space, in the real world, Raphael's body tore through an instantaneous dimension. Space folded and snapped around him as his informational body unraveled—data peeling away, light scattering—only to reconstruct mid-fall.
Raphael's eyes snapped open. "…Huh—?"
The sky stretched blue and endless above him. Wind roared past his ears. His body felt heavy. Too heavy.
Why does my body feel like this—?
Then he realized—he was falling.
"Wait, WHAT?!"
Air screamed violently around him as gravity seized him completely. Below, the rooftops and streets of Misaki Town rushed upward at terrifying speed. His limbs refused to respond properly.
Damn it—move—!
Nothing. His body wouldn't listen.
"Cielux—what the hell is happening?!"
Her voice echoed calmly in his mind. "Your mana has been fully depleted. And the injuries from your battle with Rairen have not yet recovered. So your body collapsed."
Raphael gritted his teeth as the ground rushed closer. "You've got to be kidding me—! You should have warned me!"
The wind howled louder. The ground grew closer. Too fast.
Raphael's body tilted uncontrollably as he plummeted from the sky—
And just before impact, everything blurred.
Raphael Arzenon crashed down beside a woman with striking purple hair.
The woman turned to look at him, her expression calm yet alert. "Greetings. You may refer to me as Sion. I know not who you are, so I ask you to state your identity quickly. The city can get dangerous at night."
Raphael held his chest, wincing from the lingering pain. "My name is Raphael Arzenon, and I am a new member who joined the Atlas Institute."
Sion tilted her head slightly, her eyes scanning him with a faint purple glow from her Etherlite. Raphael Arzenon, huh. "Your aura is… unstable. But not hostile. That's good. The Etherlite confirms it—no deception in your words. Welcome to the Atlas Institute, then. Though I must say, holding your chest like that… don't expect sympathy every time you look dramatic." She crossed her arms, trying to look stern, but a flicker of concern showed through. "Are you actually injured? Or just making an entrance?"
Raphael managed a weak breath. "I am exhausted from using up 96% of my Magical Energy earlier in my battle against a Dead Apostle Ancestor. I survived and won, but it drained me of most of my mana, so it's taking everything in my strength not to pass out right now."
Sion's eyes narrowed sharply. The Etherlite flared faintly as she stepped forward almost instinctively. "A Dead Apostle Ancestor… and you won? At 96% mana depletion? That's either extreme recklessness or terrifying talent." She quickly unclipped a small vial from her belt, glowing faintly blue. "Here. Drink this. It's a condensed mana-restorative elixir—my own formula. Not as good as sleep, but it'll keep you conscious long enough to reach medical. And don't argue—I can see your aura flickering like a dying candle." Her voice lowered. "You shouldn't be alone after something like that. The mind is vulnerable when exhausted. TATARI could manifest in fractured thoughts…" She paused, then added, "Lean on me if you must. Just don't make it weird."
Raphael drank the elixir. Warmth spread through his veins, restoring roughly 40% of his mana. He absorbed some ambient mana from the air to push himself further, then sighed in relief. "Thanks. I feel better now."
Sion watched carefully as his aura stabilized. Her arms remained crossed, but her shoulders relaxed slightly. "Hmph. 40% from my elixir, and you managed to siphon ambient mana on top of that? …Not bad. Most would still be unconscious." She turned away slightly, adjusting her glove with practiced nonchalance. "Still reckless though. Taking on a Dead Apostle alone—were you trying to become one yourself? If you're part of Atlas now, there are protocols. Allies. Use them next time." She paused, then glanced back at him from the corner of her eye. "Though I suppose surviving such a fight does mean you're not completely incompetent. Welcome to the team, Raphael Arzenon. Just don't make a habit of nearly dying on your first day."
Should I really tell this woman the truth, or only part of it? Raphael thought to himself. I can sense she's extremely intelligent. Unlike Rin, Luvia, and Reines, I can't lie to her the same way. Better to give half-truths. He spoke up carefully. "I am not fully part of Atlas Institute. It's more like I am partially part of the group. Basically, I am allowed to visit the base and told about world events by them while I also get to tell them anything important I learn. But since I am not a full member, they have zero obligation to spend their members to help me. Which also means I can go solo whenever I want, but if I get killed, it's on me. They won't bother covering for me. That basically is my current status in Atlas right now."
A faint frown tugged at Sion's lips. Her fingers tapped once against her Etherlite vial. "Partially part of Atlas…? That's an odd arrangement. An alliance of convenience, then. Mutual intelligence exchange without commitment." Her voice lowered slightly, analytical yet carrying a warmer thread beneath. "But you came here after a battle. You didn't vanish into the night. You sought us out… meant to report in. That says something. You don't have to care about us. But if you're choosing to—even partially—then perhaps you already belong more than you think." She tilted her head, eyes glinting with quiet challenge. "And for what it's worth… if you're ever on the brink again, don't assume no one will come. Some of us calculate more than just risk and reward."
Raphael sighed. "While anyways, as for my report… it seems the Director was correct. There is indeed a vampire outbreak happening, but the scale is worse than we calculated. The original report said 900 million vampires showed up, which is true. But the reason this outbreak is more dangerous than normal is because the Dead Apostle Ancestor I fought against boosted all 900 million vampires to high-level Dead Apostle status. This is why the Church hasn't been able to put a stop to this threat. They are simply too much in numbers and power here."
Sion's breath stilled. The Etherlite hummed faintly at her side. "900 million… uplifted to Dead Apostle-tier?" She turned sharply, crimson eyes locking onto him with intensity. "That's not an outbreak. That's an extinction-level event. The Director's calculations were sound—this is beyond them now. This isn't just a vampire problem. It's a cascade failure of the entire balance." She stepped forward, voice low but urgent. "You fought one and won—exhausted as you were. That means you're one of the few who can stand in their ranks and survive. And if they're all that strong… then conventional forces—the Church, hunters, even Atlas' full array—will fall like wheat before a scythe." She clenched her fist slightly. "But there is always a source. That Dead Apostle Ancestor didn't do this alone—it required ritual, energy on a global scale… or something older whispering from beneath. Tell me everything you saw during that battle. Not just strength—but patterns. Did they move in unison? Was there… chanting? A resonance in their blood? Time just ran out. And I refuse to let TATARI win by proxy."
Raphael replied, "The Dead Apostle Ancestor Rairen—he is the one who elevated all these 900 million vampires to be equal to Dead Apostle level. But Rairen isn't even the main threat. He is just a right-hand man to his master, who is the one who actually injured me and nearly killed me on the spot."
Sion's gaze went distant—calculative, thoughtful. Rairen… an ancillary threat. A puppeteer, a tool. There's always someone behind the curtain. Her eyes hardened. "And that master of his. A threat in their own right, if they injured you?" She leaned slightly forward. "How close did they come to ending your life?"
Raphael thought for a moment, then answered, "Let's just say 89% close to ending me."
"…89%." Sion's eyes narrowed. Her knuckles whitened against the Etherlite. "No wonder your aura was flickering. You shouldn't even be standing right now. Tell me how this happened. Your wounds. The attack. Every detail."
Raphael continued, "While I spoke to Rairen in our battle, he said his master—the Dead Apostle Ancestor Roanoke—was 10,000 years old. But that shouldn't be possible, right? I mean, the Crimson Moon is the source of all vampires. He created the True Ancestors, then the Dead Apostle Ancestors. But those events happened 4,000 years ago, not 10,000 years ago. For Rairen to say 10,000 means Roanoke predates even the Crimson Moon himself. But that shouldn't be possible… unless…" Raphael stopped himself, realizing something extremely dark about the situation.
Sion's eyes narrowed, the Etherlite humming softly. 10,000 years. Pre-Crimson Moon? That… that shouldn't… Her fingers flexed. But it would explain the current crisis. An entity old enough to predate even vampires themselves. She looked back at Raphael, eyes gleaming with urgency. "And you mentioned blood magic. How was your injury related?"
Raphael ignored that question for now. "Is it possible that Roanoke was somehow a human who worked under the Atlas Institute, only for him to turn into a Dead Apostle Ancestor and use time travel to go back in time 6,000 years ago—before the concept of Dead Apostles even existed—to establish himself as legend?"
Sion's breath stilled. Her eyes widened. Time travel. You're saying a human, a researcher from Atlas… went back in time? Before the existence of Dead Apostles, before even the concept? To become the first— She fell silent, disbelief warring with realization. "It would explain the unprecedented power. The age he should not have. A being that predates all. But why?" She looked up at him, eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "Why would this researcher turn rogue like that? What would drive them to abandon Atlas—to abandon humanity itself? And if they were once part of Atlas, there may be documentation on them. Records."
Raphael replied, "Yeah, that's what I was thinking. But it can't be that simple. If it's possible he used time travel, it means there is no record of him ever being human. Since if he went back in time to establish himself as the first vampire, that means he single-handedly erased his own past, present, and history of ever being from our time period." He let out a small sigh.
Sion's eyes narrowed further. The Etherlite hummed. Then… he didn't just travel back in time. He rewrote existence. A cold silence followed. Her voice dropped to a near whisper. "That means Roanoke isn't merely old. He's impossible. A self-fulfilling anomaly—an entity who erased his own origin so completely that history now bends to his presence as if he's always existed. And worse… if he founded the first vampire bloodlines… then every vampire since—every Dead Apostle, even the so-called 'True Ancestors'—might be descended from him. Which means… the Crimson Moon may not have created vampires at all. It might have just been the next evolution of his will."
Sion tightened her grip on her Etherlite, crimson eyes flickering with urgency. "We can't fight this like a normal threat. We need data—not from records. But from outside time itself. There's only one person I know who might understand such paradoxes… Riesbyfe Strout. She deals with dimensional and temporal distortions regularly. If anyone can help us map this anomaly… it's her. But we must move fast. Before Roanoke notices we're unraveling the truth."
Raphael asked, "Riesbyfe Strout—a mage from the Wandering Sea? Since I heard from Michelle Starlight that the Wandering Sea are the only branch in the big three factions that made their base outside of time."
Sion nodded. "That's correct. They reside on a floating island within a dimensional rift. It's not on conventional maps, and the island itself exists in a temporal distortion. As you said, it's outside of normal space-time. Riesbyfe is both their Mage Representative and Chief Historian. Her understanding of paradoxes, time loops, and dimension hopping are second to none."
Raphael frowned. "Yeah, but wouldn't reaching there take 4 to 8 days? I mean, I myself can normally teleport, but I am not at peak condition to be teleporting around."
Sion's expression darkened with immediate concern. "You're not teleporting in that state. Even a short jump could rip your mind apart—temporal distortion zones are dangerous enough when you're at full power. Right now, you'd collapse mid-transfer or worse… get lost between times." She tapped a small communicator on her wrist and activated it. "Atlas Command, this is Researcher Sion Eltnam Atlasia. Priority request: immediate dimensional jump clearance to Wandering Sea Rift."
After a brief exchange and approval from the Director, a shimmering rift tore open. Sion stepped through first. Raphael followed, saying, "I will let you do the talking since I am currently running out of time quickly." Inside his Inner World, he told Cielux, Cielux, activate Absolute Appraisal. Scan some of the abilities in the Wandering Sea.
Cielux responded, "Master, 70% of this place has Anti-observation surrounding the buildings, but I will scan the 30% without the Anti-observation parts." Countless blueprints flowed into Codex Akasha—lost Divine Curses, Astromancy, Ancient Elemental Magecrafts, and Golemancy. One in particular caught Raphael's attention: Summoning.
Cielux, is that not just normal familiars magecraft? So why did you analyze it?
"No. This is something else entirely. Summoning is a magecraft that evokes spiritual bodies from the past, or possibly from the future. Spiritual Evocation usually studies the subject, but Heroic Spirit summoning and those on the same level are considered to not entirely fall under it. This magecraft was created by the great King of Magecraft Solomon himself. It allowed Solomon to summon 72 Demon Gods—formidable familiars befitting the title of King of Magecraft. Solomon excelled at this magecraft and is considered the greatest and strongest summoner among all mages. He is the founder of Summoning spells, having established the first and greatest summoning spell, which evoked the 72 Demon Gods. Now you have gained access to this ability," Cielux said with a proud smile.
Raphael was shocked. Am I becoming a demon by gaining the power to summon demons? I mean, I want to be a mage like Solomon, but isn't summoning Demon Gods a little too far even by my standards? He wondered to himself. I thought I knew what I was getting myself into, but now if Cielux is telling the truth about me having the power to summon Demon Gods, does that mean I am losing my humanity like Solomon did? He pushed the thought away. It's better not to think about it than face the cold reality. He returned his focus to the real world.
They arrived on a vast, drifting island suspended in an endless twilight sky. Stars scattered unevenly above like forgotten jewels. The air hung thick with ancient magic.
A woman appeared at the far end of a marble pathway: tall, draped in flowing silver-blue robes adorned with temporal sigils. Her eyes glowed faintly violet. Riesbyfe Strout.
She studied Sion first, then turned her gaze to Raphael, assessing him like a living relic. Without a word, she raised one hand and sent out a soft pulse of temporal energy, probing for time displacement residue.
Raphael looked confused. "What are you doing?"
The temporal pulse wrapped around him gently. Riesbyfe closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them, sharper now. "You survived an encounter with Roanoke."
Raphael corrected her, "No. I fought Rairen, but I only had a telepathic conversation with Roanoke like 45 minutes ago."
Riesbyfe's expression shifted. A telepathic conversation with Roanoke for 45 minutes… and you're still yourself? Most would be erased from their own minds after five seconds or driven mad. Roanoke isn't just old. He's primordial. His mind operates outside linear thought—and prolonged exposure can unravel sanity like paper in fire.
Raphael grinned. "Well, let's just say I'm not normal, alright?"
The corner of Riesbyfe's mouth twitched—almost a smile. She studied him with new intensity. "Not normal." She raised her hand again, hovering just short of his forehead. "I'm going to check your mental resonance. Roanoke leaves traces in the mind—echoes of his presence. If you truly conversed with him for 45 minutes… I should be able to detect fragments."
The light pulsed. Riesbyfe stiffened. She saw deep, structured mental signatures that shouldn't exist after such contact—unless the person was either broken… or resistant on a fundamental level. Roanoke's imprint was faint, pushed back, contained. Like something foreign trying to seep into steel and being repelled.
She lowered her hand slowly. "…You're not just resistant to psychic influence. You have a natural barrier. Like an instinctive shield against external thought invasion. Most trained mages can't do that even with years of practice… and you did it during a 45-minute telepathic assault from Roanoke."
Sion broke her silence. "So… he's immune?"
Riesbyfe exhaled. "Not immune. No one is immune to Roanoke's mind—not even me. More like… he has an inherent counter-resonance. Like two opposing frequencies canceling each other out. Your mind rejected his influence not because it was stronger—but because it was fundamentally incompatible with his psychic nature. This isn't magic training. This isn't bloodline power. This is something… deeper."
Riesbyfe gestured toward a nearby tower of silver and glass. "Come." Inside the Archive of Unseen Moments, floating crystals pulsed with light. She began weaving a spell, and the crystals realigned toward Raphael. They hummed, reacting to a frequency that shouldn't exist in a human being. One crystal after another pulsed brighter, forming a geometric shape never recorded before.
Raphael realized they were getting too close to uncovering something about him they shouldn't. If they go too far, they may find out about Cielux. I can't let that happen. He spoke up in a panic. "Shouldn't we be more concerned about tracking down Roanoke's spiritual link instead of something off about me?"
Riesbyfe paused. The crystals continued glowing, but she stopped the spell. Sion turned to him. "He's right. We came here for Roanoke. For a 10,000-year-old anomaly that defies vampire origin. For 900 million Dead Apostle-tier vampires threatening global collapse."
Riesbyfe nodded. "You're correct. Our priority is locating Roanoke's spiritual link—the source of his power beyond time." She turned to a central crystal and began scanning across temporal layers. The crystal vibrated, then pulsed. "Roanoke isn't localized. He exists simultaneously across several key temporal nodes—the moments when vampire evolution took critical turns. There are five."
A holographic projection appeared: five pulsing points across a timeline stretching back 10,000 years.
Sion frowned. "How can he be influencing history before vampires were supposed to exist? That doesn't make sense."
Riesbyfe nodded slowly. "Unless… he wasn't just boosting them after their creation. Unless he was the one who created them in the first place." A chill filled the air. That would mean the Crimson Moon didn't originate vampirism. Roanoke did.
Raphael's face grew serious. "In that case, it makes me wonder—if time is being changed, how haven't our memories of the past original timeline of the Crimson Moon been erased?"
Riesbyfe's expression darkened. "Good. You're thinking like a temporal scholar. Memories don't erase easily… especially not collective ones. History—the stories, the Church records, the Atlas archives—all of it is anchored by narrative continuity. Even if reality changed… people remember what they lived through. The Crimson Moon created vampires. That's what every text says. But… what if Roanoke didn't rewrite history? What if he just… layered over it?"
Raphael sighed. "That makes the situation both easy and difficult. If it's layered, it means we just have to erase that layer and keep our original history safe. But difficult, since it means his layer could potentially erase our original timeline if we lose this war."
Riesbyfe nodded solemnly.
But then Sion's eyes snapped to her watch. The screen flashed red with an emergency alert. She paled. "Gilgamesh. Not a vampire. Not even close. The King of Heroes."
Raphael looked shocked. "Wait—Gilgamesh is here?"
Sion's voice turned sharp and urgent as she moved toward the exit. "Yes. Gilgamesh—the King." She activated the portal back to Misaki Town. Smoke already rose in the distance. Explosions flashed on the horizon. Buildings collapsed. Civilians screamed.
Raphael followed her. "In that case, I will go deal with Gilgamesh."
Sion whirled around, eyes flashing with alarm. "No. You're 96% mana drained. You can barely stand—let alone fight a being of Gilgamesh's caliber. That man wields divine weapons that rewrite causality on command. One golden sword from his treasury could erase an entire city block in a blink. We need to assess first. Call for reinforcements. Get the Director involved. This isn't just another vampire raid—this is apocalypse-level threat."
Raphael sighed, but then grinned. He reconstructed a simple metal rod and handed it to Sion. "There. Take it."
Sion stared at the unremarkable rod. It felt heavy with latent energy. She took it.
Raphael said, "I will use it to teleport to your location later. Besides, that drink of yours mostly restored my mana, and I already have a plan on how I will handle Gilgamesh." He gave her a confident smile to keep the mood positive.
Yeah, I have zero plans to handle Gilgamesh, but I will figure it out when I get there. Till then, let me act like I have it all figured out, he thought nervously to himself. On the outside, his face remained unfazed.
Sion gripped the rod tightly. She nodded once, then stepped through the portal to Misaki Town. Raphael grinned at her before jumping off. "Oh, by the way, I will come back, but many times stronger than before. So don't worry how I get stronger after this battle. Just know it will happen."
Sion watched as he vanished into the rift. His words echoed in her mind: I will come back… stronger. Not just confident—certain. Like this battle against Gilgamesh wasn't an end, but a catalyst.
She exhaled, gripped the metal rod tighter, and sprinted forward into the burning district of Misaki Town. Smoke stung her eyes. Sirens wailed. And somewhere ahead, a golden glow pulsed like sunlight on water.
The chapter of revelations and new threats drew to a close, leaving only the promise of greater power—and far greater dangers—ahead.