Ultear stopped in front of the central square of the village. At its center stood a crude stone altar, its surface covered with a thin layer of creeping vines.
She stepped forward and carefully brushed the vines aside. The moment her fingers touched the cold stone surface, she felt a faint yet unmistakably familiar magical fluctuation.
"Arlen-sama, come here quickly—I've found something," Ultear said, her voice tinged with seriousness.
Arlen walked over at once and followed her gaze to the altar wall. Carved across it were dense, ancient runes—crooked and irregular, clearly not the common script of the Kingdom of Fiore. Instead, they resembled long-lost symbols of forbidden magic.
Time had worn many of them down, but Arlen could still vaguely make out a few words: "Seal," "Sacrifice," "Awaken."At the center of the carvings was a distorted hexagram, its six points precisely aligned with six directions of the village.
"Arlen-sama, do you recognize these runes?" Ultear asked.
"These are runes of ancient forbidden magic," Arlen said, frowning deeply. He had seen similar patterns before—in an ancient text within the Royal Library of Fiore, a dangerous volume documenting taboo techniques from the era of Zeref, strictly restricted by the crown.
Ultear closed her eyes and infused her magic into the stone wall, attempting to trace the residual magical imprint. A moment later, she suddenly opened her eyes, her face slightly pale, her expression more serious than ever.
"What is it? What did you sense?" Arlen asked, steadying her.
"There's a trace of space-time magic here," Ultear said. "Very faint… but extremely chaotic. It's not orthodox time or spatial magic—it's a forcibly twisted, forbidden space-time technique."
As a user of Lost Magic—Arc of Time—Ultear's sensitivity to such magic far surpassed that of ordinary mages. She could clearly feel that the residual fragments carried a cold, sinister aura. Though similar in origin to her own magic, they were fundamentally different—filled with destruction and plunder.
"There's more," she continued. "I also sensed a trace of ice magic. It's faint, similar to my mother's Ice-Make… but it carries intense malice. Like some kind of controlled puppet magic."
A shock rippled through Arlen's mind.
Space-time magic. Forbidden runes. Malicious ice magic.
All these clues intertwined into something far from coincidence.
This seemingly ordinary Maple Leaf Village hadn't simply met with disaster—
It had been deliberately turned into a sacrifice.
"What should we do, Arlen-sama?" Ultear asked. "This is no simple matter. Could it be the work of a dark guild? Should we notify the Council?"
Arlen lowered his head in thought. Just then, his attention was drawn to a faint glimmer near the wall. He walked over and picked it up.
It was a small wooden badge, engraved with the symbol of Maple Leaf Village. Its surface flickered with faint blue-purple light—the lingering trace of space-time magic.
"This should belong to one of the villagers," Arlen said, handing it to Ultear. "The magic hasn't fully dissipated. Whoever did this… hasn't been gone long."
Ultear took the badge, gently rubbing it between her fingers, her red eyes sharp with insight.
"And they're very skilled at covering their tracks. Most of the magic has been erased—only these tiny fragments remain. If I weren't especially sensitive to space-time magic, I wouldn't have noticed at all."
She paused, then looked toward the back of the village.
There stood a towering old locust tree, its dense canopy spreading wide, almost blotting out the sky. It sat precisely at the center of the hexagram—clearly the core of the ritual.
"All the clues point there," Ultear said, raising her hand to indicate the tree. "Arlen-sama, should we check it out? My intuition tells me that's where the real secret lies… we might even catch whoever hasn't gone far yet."
Arlen followed her gaze. The massive tree swayed gently in the wind, its rustling leaves sounding like whispers hiding darkness and conspiracy.
"Let's go," he said coldly. "No matter who's behind this, we'll uncover the truth—and find those missing villagers."
Without hesitation, the two headed toward the old tree.
Sunlight filtered through the leaves, casting shifting shadows on the ground. As they drew closer, a cold, sinister magical aura began to seep from beneath the tree, gradually enveloping the silent village.
The nearer they got, the more the temperature seemed to drop. The once-gentle spring breeze turned biting cold, carrying a faint, nauseating scent of decay.
The tree was even larger than it had appeared from afar—its trunk required three or four people to encircle it. Its twisted branches stretched outward like countless clawing hands.
Its roots jutted out above the ground, tangled and deeply embedded into the soil. At the center of those roots lay a patch of disturbed earth—loose and freshly dug.
Ultear raised her hand, signaling them to stop. The space-time distortion at her fingertips had grown far stronger, and her expression turned even more grave.
"Arlen-sama… the distortion is strongest here. There's also a powerful forbidden magic fluctuation. This should be the core of the ritual."
Arlen nodded, scanning the surroundings as gravity magic subtly circulated around him, guarding against any sudden threat. Then his gaze fell upon the soil beneath the roots.
He crouched down and pressed his fingers into the loose earth.
A sticky sensation touched his fingertips.
He lifted his hand—
There, clinging to his fingers, was dried, darkened blood. Mixed within it were faint traces of blue-purple magical fragments.
"There's blood… and residual space-time magic," Arlen said, brushing the dirt from his hand. "The ritual was completed here. The missing villagers were likely taken from this very spot—dragged away by some forbidden spell."
"Not just taken," Ultear said as she approached the trunk, placing her hand gently against the rough bark.
A faint mental fluctuation reached her.
She closed her eyes and focused fully. Moments later, she opened them again, her voice trembling with both anger and shock.
"I can hear them… the villagers' cries. They're not dead. Their souls and bodies were forcibly separated… and sealed in some kind of space. They've been turned into sacrifices for the ritual."
"Sacrifices…" Arlen stood up slowly, a cold fury flashing through his golden eyes.
"Who would do something like this to an ordinary village? These people had no power to resist."
"Could it be a dark guild?" Ultear asked.
"I don't know," Arlen replied, his voice sharp as a blade. "But no matter who it is… we'll find them."
"And when we do—"
"They'll pay for it in hell."
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