35. World will P-1

The mansion had settled into uneasy silence.

The fever had broken in many of the others. Bodies still lay wrapped in blankets, exhausted, their awakening slow but sure. Xavier was still asleep, arm draped around a pillow where Alvin had once been.

But Alvin stood in the center of the training room on the third floor — a room reinforced with layers of protective formations and built-in spell seals.

His eyes narrowed.

He stood barefoot, sweat-slicked, loose robe tied carelessly around his waist. His fingers traced a familiar arcane gesture in the air, summoning a pure mana filament into existence.

It shimmered into life. Pale blue. Translucent. Light crackled softly in the air like a whisper of a thunderstorm.

He willed it to spin into a summoning seal. But halfway through the formation, the glow flickered.

And then—

Rot spread.

Black veins cracked through the glowing circle. The blue mana distorted, the edges rippling like boiling oil. A faint hiss, like a dying insect, echoed around the chamber. Alvin's eyes widened.

Mana corruption.

He immediately dispersed the formation, slashing the air with two fingers and banishing the energy.

"...Unbelievable," he muttered.

Mana corruption was rare. It was not a natural occurrence. It only happened when miasma, pure chaotic energy, seeped into a world's mana stream. In lesser realms, it was considered the mark of a world approaching death.

He clenched his fists. "This world… is already infected."

His expression turned cold. Then furious.

Without hesitation, he reached into his consciousness — past the veil of space, beyond mortal understanding — and snapped his will into the World Will's domain.

"Get out here."

A glowing light flickered into view, a trembling golden orb no larger than an apple. It hovered awkwardly above Alvin's head, its energy flickering like a nervous heartbeat.

{You called...?}

Alvin crossed his arms, glaring at it. "What in all nine hells is wrong with your planet? My mana just tried to eat itself."

{That's… that's a bit dramatic…}

"Dramatic?! I nearly summoned a shade instead of a barrier!" Alvin snapped. "I don't even use necromancy!"

The World Will pulsed nervously. {Yes, well, um, it may be… a temporary situation.}

Alvin's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Start talking, oh glorious pile of glowing disappointment."

The orb dimmed in embarrassment.

{It's… it's the meteorites.}

"…Go on."

{The three that hit the Earth last night… they weren't just meteorites. They were—well—they weren't native to this realm. They came with miasma woven into them. Something beyond dimensional barriers. It corrupted the ley lines.}

Alvin's fingers twitched. "And you just let them land?"

{I didn't let them! I tried to block them! But they bypassed my external shell and came through folds I can't seal yet!}

Alvin let out a sharp, disbelieving laugh. "Wonderful. A guardian that can't guard. A World Will that's basically a glorified alarm clock."

{Hey! I'm trying my best!} the orb protested, vibrating in a pout.

"Your best is barely functional!" Alvin shot back. "What use are you if you can't stop a few dimensional rocks from poisoning your own bloodstreams?"

{It's not that simple! They're not just rocks! They came from something. Something that can corrupt core laws—}

"Oh, and you didn't think of mentioning this sooner?" Alvin cut in, stepping forward. "When I asked why the fog turned my magic sluggish, you played dumb!"

{I wasn't sure! And I didn't want to alarm you—}

"I'm not one of your mortal protagonists," Alvin hissed. "I don't die dramatically for the plot. If you're hiding things, you better prepare to be rewritten."

The World Will flickered anxiously.

{I didn't mean to lie. I'm just… overrun. Too much is changing at once. My systems weren't made for this level of interference.}

Alvin stared at it for a long moment.

Then, he sneered.

"I've had it. One more world-ending surprise, and I'm forcing open a gate to another realm and dragging every last person I care about through it. You can keep your chaos, your corruption, and your chosen heroes. Dance in the ruins for all I care."

The orb hovered still.

{…You don't mean that.}

Alvin's smile was cold. "You think I won't abandon a dying ship? Watch me."

{But… what will happen to the rest of humanity?}

"Apparently, you already chose your little protagonists. Let them fix it." He folded his arms. "Or die trying."

The World Will dimmed.

If light could cry, this one would have.

{I'm trying… I didn't ask for this either, you know…}

"Neither did we."

{I just… I wanted to protect. But they came from above. They pierced through everything. They weren't like demons or invaders. They were older than names.}

Alvin paused. His sneer faded slightly.

He sighed, then turned around.

"Get stronger. Fix your planet. Because I'm not letting Xavier, or the kids, or even those brats die because you're overwhelmed."

He didn't wait for a reply.

He left the chamber in silence, letting the echo of his steps trail behind him — and behind that, a pitiful golden orb that glowed just a little dimmer.

{...I'm really trying.}

The corridor outside the training room was dim and still.

Alvin stood silently, his palm pressed against the cool wooden door to the master bedroom. Through it, he could feel the fevered pulse of his partner—Xavier's heartbeat was uneven, too fast. The heat of his body seeped through the door like a signal flare.

Alvin didn't open it right away.

He clenched his jaw, his eyes narrowing with quiet fury.

"So it's begun," he muttered.

He turned his gaze upward, not toward the ceiling, but toward the sky he could not see—the World Will's domain.

"I hope you're watching, you ridiculous floating lantern."

There was no reply.

Alvin sneered.

"First, you let dimensional miasma pour into your ley lines. Then you lie to me. Now, it's infecting people. The very energy corrupting my mana is crawling into my partner's bones, and you're just floating around having existential breakdowns?"

A pulse of golden light shimmered weakly in the distance—the World Will's attempt to appear again.

But Alvin waved a hand dismissively.

"Don't bother. If you show up now, I'll chew you out until your soul glitches."

He took a sharp breath and pressed his fingers together, channeling mana.

Then he paused.

No... not mana.

He needed something purer.

He closed his eyes, reaching deeper—past the corrupted ley lines, past the fractured mana wells, beyond the stuttering current of a weakened magical body.

And there it was.

A glimmer.

A thread of light that wasn't of this world.

Divine power.

It trembled at his touch, like the whisper of a storm waiting to be reborn. Back in his old world, Alvin had transcended into a half-divine state, walking the boundary between mage and celestial. But in this body, in this realm, the divinity slumbered—heavy and unresponsive.

Until now.

He opened his eyes. A golden rune circle shimmered beneath his feet.

The moment it appeared, the air itself recoiled. The walls shuddered faintly, the dust lifted from the corners of the mansion, and the invisible miasma that had crept through every crack and crevice began to retreat.

"Hmm," Alvin murmured, lips curling faintly. "So it still answers."

He raised a hand, and from his palm bloomed a radiant sigil, not blue with arcane light but white-gold, humming with raw divinity. It pulsed once—and a wave of cleansing energy surged through the floorboards, the ceilings, the stone foundation itself.

Miasma hissed in response, screaming in silence as it was driven back like darkness before dawn.

The entire mansion lit with invisible flame—not fire that burned, but fire that purified.

Downstairs, the fevered began to breathe easier.

Luis stirred, murmuring in his sleep. Alice's brows eased. The children turned in their blankets, the worst of the suffocating pressure finally abating.

Alvin stood firm at the center of it all, the divine circle under his feet glowing brighter, reaching outward in careful pulses.

He whispered an ancient incantation—words of light, from a language forgotten even by gods in his old world.

Then he anchored the power around the mansion's perimeter, weaving a veil of divine energy across the walls, the grounds, the very earth.

It was not permanent.

But it would hold.

"There," he breathed, staggering slightly from the drain. "That should keep the rot out… for now."

He leaned against the wall, wiping the sweat from his brow. His fingers were trembling.

His current body… was still too weak.

"I'm barely at the Second Circle," he muttered. "Taming divine power like this could crack my core if I'm not careful."

Back in his realm, he had reached Ninth Circle, with a toe poised on the edge of Sagehood. One more breakthrough, and he would've become the Tenth Circle Archmage, the seventh Sage to walk his world.

Here?

He was bound to a young man's body—strong in potential, but still fragile, his inner sea of mana small and unstable.

Still, that didn't stop him.

He looked down at his hand, golden light still faintly flickering between his fingers.

"I'll rebuild it," he whispered. "Even if this world's mana is corrupted, even if the ley lines are broken—I'll open the pathways myself."

His eyes gleamed.

"When the ambient magic stabilizes, I'll reform my circles. Slowly, carefully."

He raised his fingers to trace an imaginary sigil in the air—testing, shaping.

"Third Circle… Fourth… Fifth. I'll get there again. And when I do—"

He glanced at the night sky, knowing the World Will was still listening somewhere.

"—if one more meteorite lands, if one more alien shows its face, or if one more child falls sick…"

He smirked.

"…Then I'm burning this world's sky down and rewriting the laws myself."

The World Will's presence trembled faintly in the distance, as if flinching at the threat.