War of Flags IV

Jack's Nirvana Flames wasn't merely a Gift of fire—it was far more insidious than that. Born with a power that transcended typical magic, his Gift did more than amplify his control over fire. It allowed him to purify anything, to reduce all things to their purest state, if only he poured enough mana into it. It was a terrifying ability, one that went beyond mere destruction.

No object, no barrier, no protection was beyond his reach. Even the artifacts provided to every student for safety—those supposedly infallible safeguards against harm—could be reduced to nothing but useless trinkets with a mere touch of his flames. A tiny ember, flickering with the malevolent purity of his Nirvana Flames, was all it took.

And it was with that ember that Jack sealed Seol-ah Moyong's fate.

In the novel, near the end of the Inter-Academy Festival, Jack didn't kill her in open combat, nor did he rely solely on the overwhelming power of his fire. That would have been too obvious, too direct, too easy. No, Jack preferred subtlety, preferred to let his plans unravel in the shadows, with a cruelty that was almost surgical in its precision.

When Slatemark Academy made their move, launching an attack on Starcrest after Mythos Academy had been eliminated, Jack set the final stage of his plan in motion. It wasn't with a blade, nor with flame, but with a carefully orchestrated sequence of events—one where Seol-ah would seem to meet her end by sheer misfortune.

He'd ensured that her artifact would fail her at the perfect moment. The tiny ember he had planted earlier, barely noticeable among the chaos of their clash, had done its work. Slowly, insidiously, it 'purified' the artifact, rendering it useless.

And then came the landslide.

It wasn't his fire magic that caused the rocks to fall, but the landscape itself—primed and waiting, triggered by the delicate manipulation of forces Jack had set into place. As the earth rumbled and the rocks began their deadly descent, it looked for all the world like a natural disaster. Nothing that could be traced back to him. Nothing that could implicate Slatemark Academy.

Seol-ah Moyong, brilliant as she was, didn't stand a chance. With her artifact deactivated, she couldn't be saved. The professors monitoring the event would see only an unfortunate accident, the failure of an artifact they had trusted to work flawlessly.

Jack's victory was as quiet as it was final.

In the novel, no one questioned how it had happened. No one suspected Jack—at least, not at first. But for those who understood the darker truths of the world, the truth was clear: it wasn't the landslide that had claimed Seol-ah Moyong's life. It was Jack's Gift, that insidious power that could unravel even the most careful protections.

What made it truly terrifying was the way he used his Gift, weaving it into the fabric of fate itself. The artifacts provided to every student were designed to be foolproof, unbreakable defenses. And yet, if Jack used his Nirvana Flames to destroy one, it left no trace, no telltale signs of tampering. That was why, in the novel, he had never been caught, despite extinguishing one of the brightest talents the world had ever known.

I knew Jack had already set his trap. He must have planted one of his embers on Seol-ah, an ember that could lie dormant until he decided to ignite it, turning her protection into nothing more than a hollow promise. And that was the genius of it—such a thing could only be detected by an Ascendant-ranker, if Jack used the spell on that individual. But when it was done to someone else, only Immortal-rankers or higher could discern the foul play.

On this island, however, the professors overseeing us were only Ascendant-rank. Strong, certainly—far beyond us in power—but they were too comfortable, too confident in their ability to protect the students. The gulf between us and them blinded them to the subtlety of Jack's deception, just as it had in the novel.

And that, too, had been Jack's plan. By the time they realized Seol-ah was in danger, the landslide would already be upon her. Their focus, distracted by the chaos Jack had orchestrated elsewhere, would be too late. They would only see a natural disaster, an unfortunate accident.

But this time, I wouldn't let history repeat itself.

Jack's next move was predictable. He would think Jin was vulnerable, isolated, perhaps off scouting on his own. That's what the report would suggest. He would likely send one or two units, thinking it an easy target—another cog in his larger plan to weaken Mythos Academy.

But that was where he was wrong.

Jin had lied in his scouting report.

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Jin Ashbluff led his unit of fifteen through the barren valley to the north. The terrain stretched out before them, bleak and exposed, with no trees, no cover—nothing like the forest his scouting report had described. Ren hadn't been here, and Arthur had given him specific, discreet instructions to lie, which allowed Jin to falsify the report easily. Jin didn't know what Arthur was planning, but he had learned long ago not to question his judgment. 

The air felt heavy, the wind a hollow whistle as it swept through the valley's rocky crags. Jin's footsteps slowed, and he raised his hand, signaling the others to halt. The atmosphere shifted, subtle but unmistakable, a prickle along his skin that spoke of more than just an empty landscape. His instincts, honed by years of battle and sharpened further by the nature of his Gift, screamed at him to be on guard.

Though he saw no immediate threat, he knew better than to relax. His mana core hummed beneath his skin, ready to release at the slightest provocation. White-rank mana coursed through him, a steady pulse of power just waiting to be unleashed.

He could trust Arthur. But that didn't mean he could afford to be complacent.

With a quiet exhale, Jin let his mana flow outward, calling on the necromantic power he had refined. In a flicker of dark energy, he summoned one of the creatures whose soul he had bound—a three-star mana beast, small but swift, ideal for scouting. Now that he had reached White-rank, his necromancy had evolved. No longer were his summons mere skeletal remnants. Now, they retained their original form, almost alive again, though with an unmistakable aura of death lingering around them.

The creature took shape before him, a wolf-like beast with pale, translucent fur and glowing eyes that reflected the eerie light of its undead nature. Jin sent it forward, its form flickering as it darted through the valley ahead, silent as a shadow.

His unit waited in tense silence. They were used to his necromancy by now, but there was still an unease that clung to the air whenever his summons appeared. The presence of death was always unsettling, even when it was controlled. 

Jin's black eyes narrowed as he focused on the information flowing back to him from the beast. He could feel the faint ripples of movement, the subtle shifts in the environment—something was out there, something hidden just beyond sight. His hand tightened around the hilt of his weapon.

"Prepare yourselves," Jin muttered, his voice low but carrying across to his team. They readied themselves, weapons drawn, though their eyes were filled with uncertainty. They hadn't seen any enemies yet, hadn't felt the immediate danger. But Jin had.

Arthur had told him to be ready, and now Jin understood why.