Spells and mana explosions flashed ceaselessly above the central districts of the Capital. Elental magic erupted in fire, lightning, and ice. Mages of the Imperial Branch repeatedly turned the blood of fallen enemies into weapons. And the defensive line was held by mages focused on body-enhancent magic.
And towering above it all stood the Imperial Palace.
A colossal fortress divided into three gigantic tiers and carved directly into a small white mountain lood over the Capital like an ancient sleeping monster. Crimson banners bearing dragon emblems whipped furiously in the wind, while dull red veins pulsed across the snow-white marble walls, as though molten blood flowed within the mountain itself.
Even now, amid chaos and war, the Imperial Palace looked unshakable.
But the attention of everyone present was fixed not on the fortress itself.
Right at the foot of the palace, by the broad staircase leading to the main entrance, fierce fighting raged without pause.
Wave after wave of beastfolk attempted to break through to the palace gates, yet each ti they shattered against the Empire’s defenses. Only occasionally did they manage to open a breach, but long-range mages imdiately killed them.
The square at the foot of the Imperial Palace had long since beco a full-fledged battlefield.
Bodies of beastfolk and humans lay everywhere, the paving stones were covered in blood and cracks from countless mana clashes, and so of the nearby buildings were already engulfed in flas.
Hundreds of Imperial mages in military uniforms held the approaches to the broad staircase leading to the palace entrance.
The front ranks fought with long spears, heavy swords, and war shields, holding back the beastfolk in close combat. But among the defenders were many far more unusual mages.
So wielded massive runic disks floating beside their shoulders that released streams of razor-sharp mana. Others created bows directly from mana, firing blazing arrows of light. And so soldiers even carried strange censers from which bloody smoke poured.
One of the beastfolk, whose body was covered in blazing crimson tattoos, suddenly roared so loudly that cracks spread across the nearest windows.
His muscles literally swelled, and his skin began splitting from the pressure of mana.
The next mont, the beastfolk lunged forward.
He crashed directly into the formation of Imperial mages, smashing through shields with his bare hands and hurling soldiers aside. One soldier did not even have ti to raise his spear before the beastfolk seized him by the head and slamd him into the pavent with monstrous force.
But almost imdiately, one of the Imperial Branch mages stepped forward.
He was dressed in a long crimson robe.
Not a single emotion crossed his face.
The soldier rely swung his censer.
And at that very mont, the blood of dead beastfolk spilled across the pavent suddenly rose into the air.
In a fraction of a second, the crimson liquid compressed into dozens of long scarlet spears.
Then they launched forward simultaneously.
A wet crunch rang out.
The beastfolk’s body was instantly pierced through in several places, and the trendous force of the impact literally pinned him to the wall of a nearby building.
Behind the censer-wielding mage, farther up the staircase, stood a woman in the long dark-red attire of the Imperial Branch.
Even among the surrounding mages, she stood out noticeably.
Thin red scales stretched across her cheekbones and neck, and small curved horns protruded from beneath her red hair.
The woman calmly observed the battle below as another wave of beastfolk charged the staircase with a roar.
“They seem completely mad…” she said coldly, narrowing her eyes slightly. “As if they’ve all been pumped full of so kind of elixir.”
With those words, she smoothly swept the long crimson flag she had been holding in her hand.
And at that very mont, the blood on the front lines suddenly stirred.
Puddles, streams, and entire flows of crimson liquid began rushing toward a single point directly before the staircase. Beastfolk blood and human blood mixed together, forming a massive magical circle covered in dozens of rapidly igniting runes.
Seeing this, so of the beastfolk tried to retreat at once.
But it was already too late.
The magical circle blazed with a blinding crimson light, and in the next instant, a gigantic bloody hand burst from it with a thunderous crash.
Its enormous fingers clenched, and then the hand ca crashing forward with all its might, sweeping away the attacking beastfolk like insects. Several bodies were instantly reduced to bloody pulp, while others were simply sared across the pavent and the walls of nearby buildings.
✦ ✦ ✦
At that very mont, a group of mages stood by the massive gates—the main entrance to the Imperial Palace—but they were not military personnel at all.
They wore neither heavy armor nor battle robes. Instead, each was dressed in the attire of their respective guild.
Yet even among them, four figures imdiately stood out.
They stood at the front, silently observing the slaughter below.
On the back of each was the image of a red dragon with four horns—the symbol of the Empire’s Archmagisters.
And each of those four was not only the Head of their own Guild but also a Spiritual Weapon Mage.
The air around them felt heavy even from a distance. Their mana seed to compress the very space surrounding them.
And at that mont, all four gazed grimly downward.
From their position at the palace gates, the entire Capital lay spread out before them.
A short distance behind the Archmagisters stood Elders and Magisters from the various Guilds.
So watched the battlefield below with tense expressions, so quietly discussed the situation among themselves, while others already held artifacts and scrolls in their hands, clearly prepared to enter the battle at any mont.
Among them stood Elder Cornelius.
The old man stood slightly apart, his hands clasped behind his back, yet even through his usual composure, vigilance could be read on his face. His gaze was directed not at the slaughter beneath the Palace.
He was looking at one of the Archmagisters.
A tall man with dark-brown skin stood at the very edge of the staircase, motionlessly observing the events below. His head was clean-shaven, and thin white runic tattoos stretched across his scalp and neck, faintly glowing in rhythm with the circulation of mana.
Particularly strange against his stern features were his long silver eyelashes framing his cold blue eyes.
It was precisely that gaze that now made Cornelius feel a sense of unease.
Frowning slightly, Cornelius thought, “It’s been a long ti since I’ve seen Al-Hakim this angry…”
At that mont, Archmagister Al-Hakim slowly clasped his hands inside the wide sleeves of his robe and said coldly, “General Salazar is already on his way. As soon as he arrives, we can join in exterminating these damned beastfolk.”
His voice sounded calm, yet even those words sent an involuntary chill down the spines of the Magisters standing behind him.
Beside Al-Hakim stood a tall woman with long, straight turquoise hair that faintly glowed with its own mana. Noticeable makeup stood out on her face—black lipstick, heavy dark eyeshadow, and mascara—making her cold gaze appear even sharper.
She looked irritably down at the burning Capital while a thin silver needle slowly rotated between her fingers.
“My Lunar Mage Branch has already cleared the areas surrounding our holdings,” the woman said coldly. “I have been inford that they are now advancing deeper into the city, helping suppress the chaos.”
After speaking, her gaze shifted smoothly toward one of the other Archmagisters.
“What is your situation, Archmagister Guro?”
A short, hunched old man stood slightly behind the others, leaning on a long black staff with both hands. His sparse gray hair was neatly combed back, while his eyes were completely clouded with a milky white haze, clearly revealing his blindness.
Yet he only appeared blind at first glance.
Around the old man floated eight strange artifacts shaped like human eyes. Each moved continuously through the air, frequently turning sharply in different directions, as though surveying the Capital in place of their master.
At tis, delicate runes flashed within the artifacts, and the eyes began moving even faster.
With a heavy sigh, the old man slowly said, “The situation is the sa, Archmagister Seraphina. My Primal Elent Branch has also finished clearing its territories.”
One of the floating artifacts abruptly turned toward a particularly powerful explosion sowhere in the eastern part of the city.
The old man fell silent for several seconds.
Then his expression darkened ever so slightly.
“If we had joined the battle from the start…” he said quietly. “There would have been far fewer casualties.”
But in response, the last of the Archmagisters present spoke.
A youthful-looking man with long snow-white hair stood slightly apart from the others, calmly observing the burning Capital. His features were so refined that from a distance he could easily be mistaken for a beautiful woman. Delicate features, fair skin, and subtly lined eyes only reinforced the impression.
Even the Archmagister’s clothing looked too elegant for a battlefield—a long white-and-silver robe with translucent layers of fabric that swayed gently in the wind despite his near-complete stillness.
With a sowhat affected gesture, he adjusted a lock of hair and calmly said, “The military and the other Archmagisters are more than capable of handling the situation.”
His voice was soft, sharply contrasting with the thunder of battle below.
“Unless sothing unforeseen occurs, our task is to guard the Imperial Palace.”
In response, Al-Hakim rely narrowed his eyes grimly and answered coldly, “Sothing tells ... sothing unexpected is bound to happen.”
Seraphina only gave a crooked smile, clearly trying to ease the tension hanging in the air.
“Don’t grumble, Sylvain,” she said sowhat wearily, then glanced toward the white-haired Archmagister. “You always assu the worst.”
At that, Sylvain rely gave a quiet snort.
“As if things weren't already bad enough...” he replied calmly, once again turning his gaze toward the city consud by chaos. “Even though the slaughter has not engulfed the entire Capital, the casualties will number in the hundreds. Possibly several thousand.”
His voice remained remarkably even, yet a cold gleam flashed briefly in his pale eyes.
“But sothing else irritates far more…” Sylvain continued slowly. “Sothing like this simply could not have happened without help from within.”
And the mont those words were spoken, the faces of the other Archmagisters noticeably darkened.
But before any of them could respond, a small fla suddenly flared into existence directly in front of Guro.
The fla quickly spun through the air, forming a magical communication channel, and in the very next instant, an anxious voice sounded from within, “Archmagister! We have a problem! An exceptionally powerful enemy has appeared near our territory! We’re barely holding him back!”
Guro frowned sharply.
But before he could answer, a second fla flared up beside Seraphina in exactly the sa manner.
And almost imdiately, a frightened female voice ca from it, “My Lady! Trouble! Your manor is under attack!”
The atmosphere near the gates of the Imperial Palace changed instantly.
All four Archmagisters tensed simultaneously.
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Al-Hakim narrowed his eyes sharply and imdiately snapped, “A provocation.”
Sylvain slowly bared his teeth.
Even with that smile, he sohow managed to look frighteningly beautiful.
“So this is what I was waiting for…” he said quietly.
anwhile, Seraphina clenched her teeth so hard that the muscles in her jaw twitched.
For the first ti, genuine emotion flashed in the Archmagister’s eyes. It was obvious that inside, she was being torn apart between her duty to the Empire and the need to protect her own Lunar Mage Branch.
And not far away, even the blind old man had noticeably changed.
Although Archmagister Guro outwardly maintained his usual composure, all of the eye-artifacts floating around him suddenly trembled and began moving chaotically, revealing his inner fury far better than any expression on his face.
Seeing their condition, Al-Hakim remained silent for several seconds.
Then he slowly closed his eyes and said coldly, “Go. The mages of your Branches are too valuable to ignore such a threat.”
Sylvain nodded calmly.
“Al-Hakim and I may not be the equals of the Generals…” he drawled with a faint hint of mockery. “But if necessary, we can hold the enemy back until reinforcents arrive.”
Seraphina turned sharply toward them.
For the first ti since this began, her cold expression softened slightly.
“Thank you,” she said sincerely. “I will return as quickly as possible.”
Nearby, the old man with the eye-artifacts hesitated for several seconds, as though still trying to make a decision.
But then he finally gave a short nod.
“Whatever the beastfolk are planning…” Archmagister Guro said slowly. “They will fail regardless.”
And at that mont, all eight floating eye-artifacts turned simultaneously toward the enormous closed gates of the Imperial Palace.
But at the very instant the Archmagisters were about to depart, a loud mana-amplified voice suddenly rang out from the battlefield, “Elder Cornelius! Stop the Archmagisters!”
It seed that amid the endless explosions, screams, and roars of beastfolk, those words should have simply vanished into the chaos.
But because of the sheer absurdity of what had been shouted, the voice instantly drew the attention of everyone present.
The Archmagisters abruptly shifted their gazes downward.
Even the Magisters and Elders standing behind them tensed involuntarily.
And a second later, they saw the source of the shout.
A young man in the white uniform of the Imperial Academy was sprinting at full speed across the roof of one of the surviving buildings directly above the battlefield.
It looked almost insane.
Below him, dozens of mages and beastfolk were killing one another, spells flew through the streets, buildings collapsed, and yet he seed utterly fearless.
The young man leaped across another gap between buildings, barely keeping his balance on the edge of a roof, and shouted again at the top of his lungs, “Elder Cornelius! It’s a diversion! It’s a trap!”
His voice was already breaking from breathlessness, yet he continued racing forward as though his entire life depended on it.
And at that mont, the soldiers below finally noticed him.
Several mages abruptly raised their heads, clearly unable to understand what the hell an Academy student was doing above a battlefield.
“Hey! What the hell are you doing up there, idiot?!” one officer roared while deflecting a beastfolk attack with his spear.
“Get down imdiately!” bellowed another.
But Kael had already nearly reached the edge of the roof, still desperately waving toward the palace gates.
Realizing that he was obviously not so ordinary madman, the female mage with the censer narrowed her eyes sharply.
Without another word, she swung her weapon, and the blood on the pavent instantly ca to life.
A crimson wave surged upward along the wall of the building with a roar, forming a small magical circle directly beneath Kael’s feet. In the next instant, a gigantic bloody hand burst from it.
“What the—?!” Kael managed to shout.
The enormous hand seized him around the torso and then hurled him forward with monstrous force.
Kael felt the world instantly flip upside down before his eyes.
The wind whistled in his ears as he flew over the battlefield like a stone launched from a catapult.
But before he could crash to the ground, one of the Imperial soldiers suddenly leaped upward.
The mage in light armor caught Kael in midair, absorbing the impact with his own body, then landed back among the ranks of defenders with a heavy crash.
“Have you completely lost your mind?!” the soldier roared, gripping Kael by the shoulder. “What the hell is an Academy student doing in the middle of a battlefield?!”
Watching this, the Archmagisters froze for several seconds.
Al-Hakim slowly turned his head toward Cornelius and almost imdiately noticed the expression on the old man's face. He looked genuinely shocked, as though he had never expected to see this particular young man here.
Noticing the look on Cornelius's face, Al-Hakim imdiately asked, “Cornelius… Do you know this boy?”
The Elder seed to co back to himself only then.
He nodded sharply and said tensely, “That's Kael… the very sa young man I told you about…”
But before any further questions could be asked, Kael’s voice rang out from below once more.
Sohow, he abruptly twisted free from the grip of the soldier holding him, causing the armored mage to curse irritably, “Hold still, you lunatic!”
But Kael had already burst forward.
Ignoring the shouting, explosions, and battle around him, he sprinted at full speed up the enormous staircase leading to the Palace entrance.
“I saw a beastfolk at the level of a Spiritual Weapon Mage!” Kael shouted with all his strength. “They want to lure the Archmagisters away from the Imperial Palace!”
At those words, the Archmagisters’ faces darkened even further.
They silently watched as Kael finally reached the top of the staircase. The young man looked absolutely terrible—his Academy uniform was burned through in several places, black burns stretched across his neck and arms, and his silver gauntlets were still covered in blood.
Upon reaching the Archmagisters, Kael finally ran out of steam and dropped heavily to his knees on the white stone steps.
Several Magisters behind them imdiately tensed, but Kael himself did not even raise his head.
Breathing heavily, he forced out in a single breath, “He created four clones… and sent them to different points throughout the city… He… khah… said the Archmagisters had to be distracted…”
Kael coughed violently, then practically forced himself to continue, “So that… khah… so that they could steal the Imperial Bloodline Source…”
And the mont those words were spoken, a chill ran down everyone's spine.
But then Al-Hakim’s cold voice rang out, “What are you talking about, child?”
The Archmagister said slowly, staring intently at Kael, “How could you possibly understand such a thing if you…”
But Kael almost imdiately realized where their doubts lay.
Breathing heavily after the run, he quickly replied, “I like studying languages… and I spent a lot of ti studying the dictionaries in the Academy library… I didn’t understand absolutely everything, but I know for certain that the beastfolk have targeted the Imperial Bloodline Source!”
At those words, the Archmagisters frowned even more deeply.
Sylvain narrowed his eyes slightly, clearly trying to determine whether the young man was lying, while Guro’s floating eye-artifacts slowly turned directly toward Kael.
But at that mont, Cornelius’s cautious voice unexpectedly sounded from behind them, “This may sound absurd… but I would advise believing him.”
Almost imdiately, all eyes shifted toward the Elder.
Cornelius slowly stepped closer and added in a more serious tone, “Kael is one of the children I brought from beyond the mountains. Even back then, he could already speak our language fluently.”
For the first ti, surprise appeared on the faces of those around them.
anwhile, Cornelius continued, “This boy has a monstrous talent for learning languages. In all my years, I have never encountered anything like it.”
Kael was still breathing heavily, trying to recover from the mad dash and his injuries.
Raising his gaze to the Archmagisters, he said hoarsely, “Please… believe . I would never risk my life… and lie to mages of your standing.”
For several seconds, tense silence hung in the air once more.
Then Sylvain spoke thoughtfully, “You said you saw clones… Describe them in more detail.”
Kael imdiately nodded.
“The old beastfolk literally expelled concentrated mana from his body…” he said quickly. “And then ford four copies of himself from it.”
Upon hearing this, Archmagister Guro frowned slightly.
Several of his floating eye-artifacts jerked sharply in the air, as though he were calculating sothing.
“If those truly were clones…” the old man said slowly. “The amount of mana within them is severely limited.”
He turned his head slightly toward the city.
“Copies like that are incapable of causing truly serious destruction.”
With those words, Guro slowly withdrew a small paper talisman from his sleeve.
The mont the old man infused it with a little mana, the paper imdiately ignited with a soft orange fla. Communication runes raced across the talisman, and in the next instant, Guro calmly said, “Do not engage the enemy directly. Simply stall for ti and retreat. It is a clone. As soon as it exhausts its mana reserve, it will disappear.”
Having finished the transmission, the old man slowly lowered his hand.
anwhile, Seraphina narrowed her eyes slightly, clearly deep in thought.
“If the boy is right…” she said quietly.
But before finishing her sentence, the Archmagister abruptly raised a hand.
At that very mont, an enormous magical circle flared above her head, and only a second later, the phantom of a gigantic silver moon began to form in the air.
A soft, pale light imdiately spread across the square before the Imperial Palace, covering the staircase, the troops, and the battlefield.
And that was when sothing strange happened.
Directly between the Archmagisters and the ranks of Imperial mages, where at first glance there appeared to be no one at all, distorted glimrs appeared, as though the moonlight were reflecting off sothing invisible.
One… Three… Five…
More than a dozen humanoid silhouettes gradually erged from the void roughly a hundred paces from the Archmagisters.
Their outlines constantly wavered, as though the space around them were trying to conceal their presence.
But beneath the light of the artificial moon, their camouflage no longer functioned perfectly.
Seraphina’s eyes narrowed sharply.
“Spies!” she roared.
And the mont Seraphina shouted, the concealed figures instantly sprang into motion.
They dashed in different directions with astonishing speed, clearly understanding that they had been exposed. But beneath the pale light of the artificial moon, their camouflage could no longer completely hide their silhouettes.
Now the humanoid figures darting across the palace steps could be seen clearly.
Sylvain rely narrowed his eyes coldly.
A long snow-white fan adorned with silver patterns suddenly appeared in his hand. The Archmagister swept it forward in a smooth motion, and a wave of dense white mana imdiately rolled across the staircase.
The air instantly grew colder.
And in the very next mont, the entire staircase before the gates of the Imperial Palace beca covered in a thick layer of ice, pinning the spies to the ground.
But Sylvain imdiately made a second graceful sweep with the fan.
White mana washed over the frozen figures, and their shifting cloaks were instantly torn away, as though invisible blades had simply sliced the fabric apart.
And then everyone finally saw their true appearance.
Ten beastfolk with white fur.
For the first ti, Sylvain's expression truly changed.
“The Shen Tribe?!” he suddenly roared. “How did those damned spies get this far?!”
Archmagister Guro slowly shook his head.
“That explains why they are attacking so ferociously and recklessly…” the old man said grimly. “Every ti the beastfolk managed to create a breach in the defense, those creatures used the chaos to slip closer and closer to us.”
As he spoke, mana slowly began to rise around his body.
It looked strange.
Not monochromatic like that of most mages, but shimring with every color at once, as though a living rainbow were dissolving into the air. The space around the old man began to distort ever so slightly from that mana.
The floating eye-artifacts accelerated sharply, carefully observing the enemies.
“The concealnt magic of the Shen Tribe is considered one of the most dangerous among the beastfolk for a reason…” Guro continued.
Then several eye-artifacts turned toward Seraphina simultaneously.
“If you hadn't dispelled their illusions with your magic…” the old man said darkly. “I would have noticed those creatures only when they had already reached the gates of the Imperial Palace.”
But at that mont, the air on the staircase suddenly trembled.
Space rippled, as though soone had thrown a stone into an invisible sheet of water. And in the very next second, a familiar figure to Kael appeared directly before the pinned Shen Tribe spies.
That sa old beastfolk.
Sparse patchy greenish fur, scar-covered skin, and clouded eyes devoid of even a trace of emotion.
And at that very mont, a monstrous aura descended upon the entire staircase.
The air seed to beco several tis heavier. A number of the Magisters and Elders imdiately found it difficult to breathe, while several people behind Kael instantly dropped to one knee, unable to withstand the pressure.
A wave of frightened exclamations imdiately swept through the ranks.
But before the pressure could completely force everyone to the ground, the four Archmagisters stepped forward.
Their auras flared almost simultaneously.
The old beastfolk's crushing pressure imdiately t resistance, as though four invisible walls had risen before him at once. The space around the staircase trembled as their monstrous mana collided.
Yet in the next mont, the Archmagisters' expressions changed sharply.
Sylvain instantly produced a second fan, while dense white mana flared around his body. Behind him, nine enormous snow-white tails slowly began to form, and beast ears erged from among his hair.
And for the first ti since all this began, genuine fear flashed in his eyes.
“You…” he breathed. “You were supposed to be dead…”
Al-Hakim, standing nearby, also tensed sharply.
His skin rapidly began to turn to gold, as though the Archmagister's body were transforming into a living tal statue. The white runes on his head flared brighter, and he said in disbelief, “That's… Mor'zak…”
The old beastfolk whom Al-Hakim had called Mor'zak slowly shifted his gaze.
And that gaze imdiately settled on Kael.
He was still kneeling before the Archmagisters, breathing heavily after his run and the pressure of the aura. But the mont Mor'zak's clouded eyes locked onto him, an icy chill instantly ran down Kael's spine.
For several seconds, the beastfolk simply stared at him.
Then, unexpectedly, he spoke in broken Imperial, “Learned our language… did you?”
His voice was hoarse and deep, like stones grinding against one another.
Then Mor'zak abruptly slamd a palm against his chest.
A dull sound rolled across the staircase, and in the next mont a murky green light flared directly over his heart. At the sight, the surrounding Magisters imdiately tensed, while several people behind them involuntarily took a step back.
But Mor'zak seed completely oblivious to the humans' reaction.
Slowly drawing his hand away, he began pulling sothing directly out of his own chest. A nauseating scraping sound filled the air, and a rough hilt resembling cloudy green jade gradually erged.
It looked as though the weapon was not hanging from his belt, but was literally growing inside his body.
Gripping the handle, Mor'zak continued slowly pulling it free without taking his clouded gaze off Kael.
“How do you know a dialect… spoken only in our Dinsion?” he said with a noticeable accent. “We not use this dialect here… for a very long ti.”
Squinting, Mor'zak suddenly jerked his arm upward, ripping the weapon from his own chest.
A disgusting wet scraping sound rolled across the staircase, and a massive jade brush appeared in the old beastfolk's hands. The thick handle was covered in dozens of grotesque fanged mouths, and instead of ordinary ink, a thick dark-green sludge slowly dripped from the tip of the brush.
The droplets fell onto the white stone of the staircase with a faint hiss, and wherever they touched, the marble began to dissolve.
Mor'zak bared his teeth as he stared at Kael and growled, “First the mission… Then I take you.”
And with those words, he sharply swung the brush.
All the mouths on the handle flew open simultaneously, and a monstrous scream tore through the air. It felt as though soone had suddenly scread directly inside Kael's head. In the next instant, his body froze, and his consciousness trembled so violently it seed ready to go out altogether.
Kael's knees pressed harder against the staircase of their own accord.
And not only his.
Behind the Archmagisters, Elders and Magisters began dropping to their knees one after another, clutching their heads. Blood imdiately began flowing from the noses and ears of several soldiers. Even so of the mages below, holding the line against the beastfolk, staggered violently.
Only the Archmagisters remained standing.
Their auras flared even brighter, resisting the pressure of Mor'zak's Spiritual Weapon, though tension appeared even on their faces.
And the old beastfolk, watching the humans' reaction, rely smirked to himself: “What a sha I have so little ti…”
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