Deep inside reyon's consciousness the sound of Reyon's ragged breathing echoed within the crumbled chamber walls. The dim torchlight barely illuminated the tattered pages before him—the ruins of Leywin's book. Its ancient symbols, etched in strange ink that shimmered faintly, danced across his tired vision. His fingers, calloused and scarred, traced the worn edges of a passage inscribed in a language only few could comprehend.
"£, §" Reyon mumbled, repeating the sequence like a prayer, his lips cracked from nights without rest. " Grandfather leywin… what did you see that I haven't?"
He stood up, ignoring the stabbing ache in his side. The moonlight filtering through the broken ceiling turned his silhouette silver as he raised his palm and manipulated the vectors around him. Mana pulsed, sluggish and uncooperative, but each day, it obeyed him more. Day and night, he trained relentlessly.
Between missions.
During meals.
In his sleep.
Berth's assassination contracts had become routine. Nobles. Officials. Even royal spies. Each mission honed his reflexes, each target taught him to kill cleaner, faster. But beneath every act of bloodshed, Berth tightened his grip around the palace like a spider weaving a web. His ties with the Duke and multiple noble families had elevated him.
He now stood politically equal to Princess Julie.
And he was so close… so close to igniting a rebellion.
But that night, everything fell apart.
The headquarters of the Classers was quiet—too quiet.
Reyon stepped out of the chamber just as a gust of wind howled unnaturally. His instincts screamed. He flicked his fingers, vectors responding instantly, and leapt back.
An arrow shattered the ground where he'd stood.
"Ambush," he whispered.
Screams followed—his comrades, caught off guard.
"Squad five! On me!" he shouted, racing into the shadows.
Julie had struck. Midnight cloaked the palace, but her blade had come with Knight Commander Phillip himself. Royal Guards, clad in obsidian armor, tore through the outer perimeter.
A streak of fire lashed through the hallway. Reyon spun, slicing it apart with a single pulse of force vectors. His footwork was sharp—his movements honed.
"I'm not afraid," he muttered, breath steady. "Berth… he'll come."
Reyon led his squad to the central atrium. spikes exploded from his hand, piercing three guards instantly. Despite being only a 5th-circle mage, Reyon's command of vectors let him compete with 7th-circle veterans. His squad followed him loyally.
But—
"Retreat! Berth's not answering!" someone screamed.
Reyon turned sharply. "What—what are you saying?!"
Then he saw it.
The transmission orb shattered on the ground. A final message flickered: "Forgive me. I chose survival."
Berth had run.
"No…" Reyon's voice cracked.
He grabbed the orb. "Berth… you promised…"
The first blade pierced his side.
Blood sprayed, warm and sudden. He staggered, stumbling back. Two more of his men fell beside him, lifeless.
"Coward…" he hissed, falling to one knee.
He turned to flee, clutching his wound.
But standing at the exit—
Knight Commander Phillip.
"Going somewhere?" Phillip raised his greatsword, calm as a viper in wait.
Reyon clenched his teeth. Even wounded, he refused to die here.
"Come on then," he growled, taking stance.
The sword came. Reyon dodged, barely.
Clang!
He parried the second blow, then ducked under a sweeping strike. He twisted, vectors shifting his momentum unnaturally.
"I've fought knights since I could walk," he spat.
Phillip narrowed his eyes. "You're just a rat delaying the inevitable."
Strike after strike. Reyon ducked, flipped, spun.
Each breath was fire.
But he was still standing.
Julie stepped forward from the shadows, stopping Phillip's sword mid-swing with a flick of her finger. Her eyes gleamed with curiosity.
"You're still standing? A 5th-circle mage… against an 8th circle?" She stepped closer. "Interesting."
Reyon raised his head, bloodied and gasping.
"I'm not dead yet," he whispered.
Julie knelt beside him.
"You're strong. Smart. And suicidal. All qualities I admire." She smiled faintly. "Come under me. Become my personal guard."
Reyon spat blood.
"I don't want to."
"But you want to live."
He froze.
"I can make you stronger. Stronger than him. Stronger than anyone."
He closed his eyes.
"…Fine. I accept."
Six months passed.
Julie hunted Berth relentlessly, and finally—
They found him.
Reyon stood in her chamber, gripping the dagger she'd given him. Its blade shimmered faint green.
"Poison?" he asked.
She nodded. "The best."
"He won't resist?"
"No."
Reyon's eyes dimmed. "Good."
"You're sure?"
"He betrayed me. He let classers die. He left me bleeding."
Julie said nothing.
"I'm good at assassinations," he muttered. "He won't feel a thing."
That night, Reyon found Berth alone.
Berth's eyes widened.
"Reyon—wait, I can expl—"
Stab.
The blade slid into his throat, clean and quiet.
No resistance.
No magic.
Berth collapsed, eyes still open, dead before he could summon mana.
Reyon didn't speak. He walked away.
He trained harder than ever now.
Sparring against Commander Phillip, each session bloodier than the last.
He pushed beyond limits. Vectors wrapped around him like armor. He became as strong as a peak 7th-circle mage.
Stronger than he'd ever imagined.
And with Julie… he softened. She was kind. Not gentle, but real. She saw him. Cared.
The first since Ray.
Three months later, the skies screamed.
Another misfortunate news came
The Silver Dragon had descended.
Edward Phoenix, the peak of all magicians, had fallen.
All Marshals perished alongside him.
The Phoenix Household was no more.
Reyon didn't even have time to mourn. Elise Kingdom burned.
Half the land wiped away in a single breath.
They raced to the border, but—
It was waiting.
Wounded.
One wing torn.
But still deadly.
Julie's artifact saved them once.
Barely.
Phillip stepped forward, bruised and battered.
"Take her and go."
"No," Julie said. "You can't fight it alone."
"That's why I must. It's weak i noticed earlier it must be aftermath of fight with edward it can't use even 5% of its power."
"If I don't fight, you'll both die."
Julie hesitated.
Reyon grabbed her.
She fought him. "Let me go!Commander Phillip—!"
He didn't speak.
Tears fell as reyon carried her.
From afar, they saw it.
Commander Phillip, charging, blade glowing.
He pierced the dragon's heart.
And then—
BOOM.
Half his body gone.
The dragon slumped. Alongside commander phillip
Dead.
Reyon ran for hours.
Then collapsed, placing Julie gently on the ground.
"Julie?" he asked.
She didn't respond.
His eyes scanned her face—blood trickled down her temple.
"Julie?" he repeated, shaking her.
Her skin was cold.
"No…"
He touched her heart.
Nothing.
"No, no, no—" he pressed his ear to her chest. "Come on—wake up!"
He hadn't noticed.
Carrying her on his back.
The breath attack—some of it got through.
She had protected him.
He hadn't even seen.
"Julie…"
He cried for three days.
Didn't eat.
Didn't move.
Just knelt beside her grave, carved with trembling hands.
Julie, the only light I had left.
He stood again.
Eyes dead, but posture straight.
There was no time.
Two dragons still remained.
The world needed him.
Brook Kingdom's ruins awaited.
The remaining mages gathered there.
Preparing.
For war.
For survival.
Reyon walked toward it, the winds howling behind him.