Their Story (23): The Strike

The 1,300-strong Diamond Army, led by its Shining Generals, marched in flawless ranks toward the border town of Kiten. Their King, Goldstein F. Diamondhart, observed them from the skies above, his presence a symbol of their unity and strength.

Each step the soldiers took sent tremors through the earth, the rhythmic thundering of their march amplifying their morale and mana. With every movement forward, a shared thought filled them with a mix of exhilaration and relief: this eleven-month-long war was finally about to end.

They weren't wrong. But the question of who would emerge victorious was still unanswered. Who am I kidding? The Clover Kingdom would never lose—least of all to Diamond. This battle had only one possible conclusion: Diamond's defeat.

Unfortunately, no one had told them that.

They marched forward with unshaken confidence, certain of their victory—until King Goldstein's voice boomed from above.

"Halt!"

The order rang through the air like a thunderclap, and the entire army froze in unison. No questions were asked; discipline prevailed. Tension rippled through their ranks as they scanned the area, their senses heightened for ambushes or traps. Yet, there was nothing.

Among the troops, those with heightened mana perception—primarily the generals and adjutant generals—began to react. Their heads turned skyward moments before Goldstein's commanding voice resounded again.

"Look up! Prepare for battle!"

Every soldier craned their neck, eyes locking on the heavens above. For the veterans among them, the sight that unfolded was all too familiar—and utterly horrifying.

A massive, illusionary card began to manifest in the sky. It expanded slowly, its sheer size covering the entire army and more. As it transitioned from an ethereal blur to physical reality, dread settled over them like a suffocating fog.

But none of them had seen this card before, and that scared them.

The card bore the title XXI at the top. Its edges were adorned with four small clouds in the corners, within each resided the head of a different figure: a cherub, an eagle, a lion, and a bull, their heads angled toward the center. There, a naked woman stood draped in a flowing purple cloth that wrapped around nude form her like a fluttering scarf. She held a baton in each hand, encased within a laurel wreath that framed her form.

Goldstein's pupils contracted. A shiver raced down his spine as a voice—ancient, gruff, and laced with uncharacteristic fear—echoed in his mind.

"Get out of here, Goldstein! It's a trap!"

He didn't need to be told twice. In a blur, the Diamond King shot away from the battlefield, heading back toward his kingdom at an impossible speed. He moved so fast that not even a whisper of sound trailed behind him.

Within seconds, he had crossed tens of miles, his palace now visible on the horizon. But it didn't matter.

As the card solidified, the four figures depicted on its edges moved. Their attention, once fixed on the woman at the center, shifted outward.

The cherub, situated at the top left, opened its innocent, childlike eyes. Its gaze pierced the distance, locking onto Goldstein's retreating form.

Far away, Goldstein felt it—the icy sensation of being targeted. He turned sharply, diving hundreds of feet into the earth in an attempt to shake it off. But the feeling followed him. He twisted, turned, and flew in erratic patterns, surpassing hypersonic speeds. Still, the cherub's presence lingered, relentless.

No matter where he went, the cherub seemed to hover beside him—a pure, chubby figure with an unwavering stare. Cold sweat dripped down his back as he sped past his kingdom, crossing the Grand Magic Region and entering Spade's territory. He didn't stop there. He pushed further, over Spade, past the continent's edge, and above the boundless ocean.

But the feeling never faded. When a child see's something that has caught their attention, it's hard to distract them or make them look away. He was marked, with an invisible giant X on his body.

Back on the battlefield, the Shining Generals felt an ominous pressure as the eagle in the card's top right corner opened its sharp and narrow golden eyes. One by one, their minds were invaded by its penetrating gaze, its presence analyzing them, committing their characteristics and weaknesses to memory.

The lion, positioned at the bottom right, let out a lazy yawn, its nigh indifferent gaze sweeping over the Diamond Army. A wave of terror rippled through the soldiers. Five hundred of them—those coincidentally or not with the highest mana reserves—felt an unrelenting weight settle on their shoulders, like a broad paw pressing them down to the ground. The lion had marked them as his prey.

A king eats only the strongest game, its gaze seemed to say. The tastiest meal requires worthy effort. A hunt is only interesting if the hunted puts up a bit of a struggle. 

Meanwhile, the bull at the bottom left ignored the soldiers entirely. Its attention was on the terrain, studying the mix of earth and greenery, memorizing every detail. A good hunter knows its surroundings.

As the four figures finished locking onto their targets, the woman at the card's center began to move. Her batons twirled gracefully in her hands, and her mouth parted to speak.

Her voice was an unsettling blend of contradictions—ancient yet youthful, indifferent yet harmonious. She spoke and sang at once, her words resonating with a dreadful finality.

"The World is as we make it. Come, boys and girls, to your final destination. It's time for your story to reach its completion, for this chapter in history to close. Do not be afraid. Every journey has an end."

In an instant, Goldstein—who had flown halfway across the world—vanished. So did the Shining Generals and the 500 marked soldiers. They disintegrated into motes of golden light, rising skyward and disappearing into the colossal card.

The remaining 800 soldiers stood frozen, watching in stunned silence as the card above them shimmered. It turned ethereal once more, still visible in the sky, but illusionary, blurry, and transparent, as if no longer existing in the physical word.

They blinked, their minds blank and their bodies trembling. Not a single word was spoken.

—

Goldstein, his Shining Generals, and 500 elite soldiers rubbed their eyes, blinking rapidly as they took in their surroundings. The terrain was identical to the battlefield pass they had been marching through just moments ago, but something felt off.

Their confusion deepened when they looked up and froze. The nearly cloudless blue sky was gone, replaced by an astral expanse—a starry, cosmic void filled with glistening celestial bodies, intertwining galaxies, and radiant constellations. It was the same ethereal realm Acier had been cast into during her divination.

The sky alone was enough to convince Goldstein and his troops: they were no longer in their world. The ground beneath them might have been a replica of the battlefield, but everything else confirmed they had entered a separate dimension.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

The rhythmic sound drew their attention, snapping their heads toward a rocky cliff in the distance. There, an elderly figure stood, his aqua-blue hair shimmering faintly and his green eyes dull and cold, devoid of their usual brilliance. He tapped a royal red scepter against the ground, his expression indifferent as he observed them like an audience watching a play.

It was Alden Arcana.

His gaze swept over the Diamond soldiers, causing some to tremble under its intensity, or rather lack of. Each of those soldiers felt like they were being dismissed and glossed over like a bunch of ants but none dared to say anything. When his eyes landed on the seven Shining Generals, his lips curled into a faint smirk, and he whispered softly—a sound that carried effortlessly across the strange world.

"I see you left that rookie Yagos behind to oversee things back home… no matter. He won't change anything."

Goldstein snorted, unimpressed by Alden's words. Without responding, he ascended into the air, rising higher and higher until he could survey the entire scene below.

Alden's head tilted back, his green eyes following Goldstein's ascent. He made no move to intervene, his face an unreadable mask.

You'll pay for your arrogance, Goldstein sneered inwardly, halting his climb a kilometer above the ground. He extended his right arm, spreading his fingers wide before pressing his palm downward in a commanding motion.

In an instant, a massive hand of solid earth materialized in front of him, mimicking the gesture. The colossal construct began descending toward Alden, its presence radiating an invisible pressure that caused the ground beneath the old man's feet to crack and sink.

Alden didn't falter. His knees didn't buckle, his stance remained upright, and his expression stayed calm, though his eyes flickered with faint apprehension. So his Earth Magic has taken on the properties of gravity… and all without a grimoire. This might be more trouble than I thought.

With a slight sigh, Alden raised his scepter, pointing its sharp, gem-encrusted tip toward the falling earthen palm. At its apex, a small card materialized, quickly solidifying into physical form. The card bore the title XIX at the top—The Sun.

From the foreground image of a naked child riding a white horse, one of the sunflowers blooming under the smiling sun in the background began to twist and spin. It blurred into a golden ball, which shot out of the card and ascended toward the descending palm.

As the ball climbed, it expanded, radiating searing heat that grew unbearable for anyone not protected by Goldstein's or Alden's mana. It transformed into a mini-sun, its gravitational pull and intense energy countering the crushing force of the giant earthen palm.

Goldstein's eyebrows rose in surprise. He disappeared in a flicker, reappearing before his soldiers. Without a word, he raised both arms at an angle, summoning a smooth dome of solid earth to encase himself and his army.

Above, the mini-sun collided with the descending palm. The rocky hand curled slightly, as if attempting to catch the burning sphere, but it was too late.

The sun began to expand, glowing brighter and brighter until it exploded inward, ripping the palm apart. The rocky fingers disintegrated, turning to ash in an instant, and the sun collapsed into itself, morphing into a swirling mass of radiant colors—a planetary nebula that illuminated the cosmic sky.

The nebula's brilliance faded, flaking away to reveal a tiny, glistening ball of white light. It shone like a star, but there was nothing beautiful about it.

As the white dwarf came into being, everything beneath it began to disintegrate. The ground, the battlefield replica, even Goldstein's dome of earth—all of it turned to dust in an instant.

Goldstein stared at his soldiers, a flicker of regret crossing his sapphire eyes before it was replaced by icy indifference. He clenched his fist, mana swirling in a vivid orange-brown hue around his hand.

The white light expanded, its heat and energy burning away everything in its path. Alden remained motionless, his expression unreadable as the white dwarf collapsed into a tiny black ball.

The sphere gave off no energy, no light, no sound. And then it disappeared—leaving behind nothing.

Alden's expression remained stone cold, betraying no joy in victory, as his gaze lingered on the empty plain where the Diamond army had stood moments earlier. His eyes fixated on a nearly invisible speck in the distance.

If one had the ability to zoom in on that speck, they would see it was a tiny, smooth sphere—not unlike the dome Goldstein had conjured earlier.

The sphere began to glow, steadily expanding until it was roughly three meters in radius. It floated forward slightly before its outer shell began to crumble and flake away.

From within, eight figures descended into the starry expanse, earthen platforms materializing beneath them as they landed.

It was Goldstein and the seven Shining Generals, unharmed and unmarked. At the critical moment, Goldstein had chosen to save only himself and his most valuable elites, encasing them in a compressed, multi-layered defensive shield.

Alden showed no surprise. If anything, his eyes flickered with weary regret as he observed the unharmed group. He didn't even break a sweat, Alden mused, his gaze scanning their pristine appearances.

There are four great elemental spirits, each with unique abilities: Sylph, the Wind Spirit, is the fastest; Undine, the Water Spirit, has unmatched healing powers; Salamander, the Fire Spirit, wields the greatest offensive strength; and Gnome, the Earth Spirit, boasts near-absolute defense.

It was Gnome's power that earned Terran Gaidore the title of Clover's Greatest Shield. When paired with the Earth Spirit, Terran's defenses were nearly unbreakable.

Alden hadn't expected Goldstein to fall so easily. It was within his calculations, after all. Still, the sight gave him a headache.

Should I have brought Elsdocia? Alden wondered, before shaking his head. No, it wouldn't have made a difference. The Imperial Sword still has a role to play in the distant future.

His gaze hardened as it locked onto Goldstein and the Shining Generals. They returned his glare with equal intensity, until Alden broke the silence.

"Show yourself, Gnome."

Goldstein and his generals froze, their brows shooting up in surprise. A beat later, Goldstein relaxed, letting out a wry chuckle.

"So, you really do know everything…"

Now it was Alden's turn to pause, his brow lifting slightly. "Did that witch open her mouth?"

Goldstein shrugged, his shoulders rising in a nonchalant gesture. "She did. I visited her two years ago, seeking her secret to immortality to cure my son…" His voice trailed off, a flicker of nostalgia softening his features before he continued.

"She offered to share it—on one condition. If I pushed Clover's borders away from her little joke of a kingdom, she promised to personally tend to my son."

Alden sighed, his tone sharp. "So all this carnage is to coddle a useless crip?"

Goldstein's mana flared, the air thickening as his clenched fist trembled. His generals struggled to breathe under the oppressive force. "Don't you dare disrespect my son," he growled. "Edelstein is destined for great things!"

Alden's lips twisted into a faintly mocking smile. "It seems I've misjudged you, Goldstein. You're not a complete coward. You've got some nerve after all."

Goldstein snorted, the tension easing as he folded his arms. "Caution and cowardice are two different things."

A moment later, a small figure appeared on his shoulder.

It was mainly orange-brown, with a white face resembling a garden gnome. A long, shaggy beard obscured most of its body, while a pointed cone hat sat atop its head. Nearly circular shoes—or perhaps feet—completed its odd appearance.

The figure hopped down from Goldstein's shoulder, growing slightly larger as it landed. Though "larger" was relative—it barely reached two or three feet tall. Folding its arms behind its back, it glared up at Alden, speaking in a gruff, no-nonsense tone.

"What do you want, boy?"

Alden's gaze softened momentarily, memories flashing through his mind. He saw himself as a child, cheering among the crowds in the royal capital as Terran Gaidore returned from another flawless victory. The hulking, broad-shouldered Wizard King, clad in gleaming armor, had always been accompanied by his loyal partner—this same Earth Spirit.

Now, seeing that familiar figure standing on the shoulder of Clover's enemy twisted something unpleasant in Alden's chest.

He exhaled slowly before speaking. "Are we really doing this? Do you truly want to fight… against Clover?"

Gnome's golden-orange eyes darkened, his tone turning bitter.

"You filthy traitors killed Terran. After everything he gave to your kingdom—his life, his loyalty, his strength—you couldn't even let him live out his final moments in peace. I won't rest until Clover is buried with him in eternal rest."

"This will be my requiem to him!"

Gnome's fist clenched, his mana spiking outward. The ruined landscape began to restore itself, growing more lush and vibrant than before.

Alden bit his lip. He had accounted for this scenario, but hearing the truth confirmed stung more than he expected. Still, for old times' sake, he tried one last plea.

"The ones responsible for that atrocity have long since returned to the earth. The Clover Kingdom of today bears no part in their sins."

Gnome snorted derisively, shrinking back to his smaller form and reappearing on Goldstein's shoulder. Pointing at Alden, he sneered darkly.

"They died peacefully, surrounded by wealth and comfort. They faced no justice, no reckoning for their crimes. Their descendants walk freely today, basking in the kingdom Terran protected with his blood and sweat. Clover's people, those he served wholeheartedly, looked away in his time of need, letting him fall. And for that, you all share the blame."

"Everything Terran gave to you—I'll take it back. Starting with your land and peace… and ending with your lives!"

Alden closed his eyes, pushing down a pang of sorrow. When he reopened them, his face was icy.

"I'm stronger than Lord Terran, you know."

Gnome scoffed, his expression filled with disdain. "Yeah, right."

Before Alden could respond, the seven Shining Generals shot toward him, their movements a blur. Alden leapt forward to meet them, his red scepter igniting with prismatic light as their battle began.

—

Moments Before

In the physical world, the instant the World card turned illusionary, the remaining Diamond army—800 strong—barely had a moment to process their rising panic. A blinding light burst forth, forcing them to twist around, spin in confusion, and jerk their heads upward.

The Eight of Wands card materialized from nowhere, unleashing 80 beams of light. Each vanished to reveal Clover's "army": 54 Magic Knights from the Purple Orcas and Blue Rose squads, Acier, and 25 members of the medical ward, descending upon the Diamond forces.

Alden had quite literally dropped his army on their heads, catching them off guard and leaving them perplexed. Their confusion deepened as they noticed the brimming red aura of mana pulsing from every member of Clover's forces.

Snapping out of their stupor, one of the Diamond lieutenants who hadn't been warped away raised a hand, barking orders.

"What are you waiting for?! Fire! Kill them!"

The Diamond mages needed no further prompting. Long-range fighters pointed skyward, channeling mana through wands, staves, or bare hands. The air buzzed as hundreds of blasts—raging torrents of flames, bolts of lightning, spiraling water, pillars of earth, and more—roared upward toward the falling Clover troops.

Perhaps "falling" was the wrong word. Clover's forces seemed to float, each soldier supported by swirling vortices of wind beneath their feet. The slow, controlled descent made them appear almost untouchable.

Vortigarn, leading Clover's forces, observed the wave of incoming attacks with a calm gaze. He waved his hand forward indifferently, conjuring a slight gust of wind, and with it a young boy slightly behind him flew out in front.

"Do it, Kaiser," Vortigarn ordered.

Kaiser nodded curtly as his grimoire hovered beside him. Extending his hands, he called out, "Vortex Magic: Area Helix!"

The still air before Clover's forces erupted into a roaring spiral of wind, forming a vast revolving sphere. Kaiser's magic, amplified by Alden's blessing of strength, materialized faster and larger than ever before, halting the onslaught of magic mid-air.

One boy had stopped an attack from 200 mages on his own. Even with his strength multiplied and the inherent properties of vortex magic to dissipate and interfere with spells, it was a remarkable feat.

Such was to be expected as the future Shield of the Clover Kingdom.

But it wasn't enough. The attack was too powerful for him to redirect, as he had done days before. All Kaiser could manage was to slow it down to the point where it seemed stationary, though in reality, his vortex was being imperceptibly pushed back.

As Diamond's forces poured more mana into their spells, Kaiser did the same, straining to hold his magic steady. The incredible power he'd felt just moments ago was draining rapidly. Gritting his teeth, Kaiser ignored the tremors of pain coursing through his body and refused to let go.

Watching from behind, Vortigarn narrowed his eyes.

Lord Alden's blessings are powerful, but with him in a different dimension and unable to constantly cast them, it won't last long—especially the blessing of strength. Most of us will only be able to cast two or three major spells before we're drained, some may lose their blessings before being able to use it. In a prolonged battle of attrition, we stand no chance. We must end this immediately!

Without hesitation, Vortigarn descended, placing a steady hand on Kaiser's back. Closing his eyes, he poured his own mana into the younger mage, strengthening the vortex spell.

The shield of wind protecting Clover's forces morphed into a downward-spinning tornado as their combined spell took shape.

"Vortex X Wind Magic: Fury of Aeolus!"

Within the tornado, an illusionary face emerged—the bearded visage of a god, his cheeks puffed as though blowing with all his might. The magical storm began to force Diamond's attack backward.

But it wasn't enough. It was too slow. It needed time to push the attacks back.

Time was not a luxury Clover had at the moment.

Dax twisted his head, scanning the floating crowd for a blonde-haired young woman. When his eyes landed on her trembling, meek figure, he opened his mouth.

"Lily. Go wild."

The trembling stopped instantly, replaced by a broad, perverse grin. Her red grimoire flew to her side, pages fluttering as she extended a slender arm. A vivid red flame materialized in her hand, crackling with ominous energy. She turned her head to two nearby figures and smirked.

"Chlo, Glacius, feed mama now."

Unfazed by her antics, Lily's twin and their squad mate exchanged a glance before acting. Chloe raised her hand, summoning an orb of ice, which shot toward Lily's flame. Glacius followed with a frosty gust of wind, carrying the ice forward.

As the spells collided, they began to fuse. Lily's flame shifted from red to an otherworldly blue, pulsing with contradictory forces. At times, it radiated searing heat, like standing before the sun; at others, it exuded a biting chill, like a sudden snowstorm.

Union and compound magic required two critical elements: a deep understanding of one's allies and their magic, and compatibility between their attributes.

Ordinarily, such harmony was impossible for the trio. Lily's fire clashed violently with Chloe's ice and Glacius' frost. Yet in this moment, against all odds, under the blessing of good fortune, their attributes aligned and synchronised.

Magic was, after all, a miracle. 

Admiring the unholy flame they'd created, Lily's grin turned devilish. She bent her knees and shot downward, a blazing streak cutting through the air. She came to an abrupt halt just in front of Kaiser and Vortigarn's union spell.

Lily licked her lips and waved mockingly at the Diamond forces below before lightly tossing the strange flame into the base of the downward-spiraling tornado.

Her whisper carried on the wind, sending shivers through even her comrades.

"Frostfire."

The tornado transformed instantly. The illusionary face of a god blowing wind morphed into a chaotic swirl of fire and ice. The frosty yet fiery storm obliterated the Diamond army's spells, freezing them solid before melting them into nothing.

With the path clear, Kaiser thrust his arms forward, pouring the last remnants of his mana into the spell. The downwards storm surged toward the Diamond forces.

The moment it struck, devastation followed. A resounding explosion erupted on impact, but with a wave of Vortigarn's hand, the destructive force remained contained, sparing the Clover troops from its effects.

Below, it was carnage. Many Diamond soldiers were incinerated to ash. Others were frozen solid, only to shatter moments later. The explosion ripped through the heart of their formation, leaving chaos in its wake.

Before the debris and dust had a chance to settle, Vortigarn pointed downward and commanded, "Fire!"

Clover's long-distance mages responded immediately, unleashing a barrage of spells in all directions where they suspected survivors might be. Their attacks rained down mercilessly, accompanied by the anguished screams of Diamond's remaining troops.

The onslaught continued until the blessings of strength faded from Clover's forces. Only the medical ward and a few close-range mages, who hadn't acted, were still empowered by the buff.

As the dust cleared, the extent of the devastation became evident. Nearly half of Diamond's 800 troops had been wiped out. The survivors on the outskirts and flanks were relatively unscathed, but even among them, a quarter were gravely injured, their ranks in utter disarray.

Clover showed no mercy as Marcel and Dax raised their hands, pointing forward.

The ground beneath the Diamond army turned to mud, trapping many as they began to sink. Spiked vines erupted from the earth, binding survivors where they stood. For some, the vines brought swift, gruesome deaths—impaling them outright. Others met more agonizing fates, shredded by the thorns or left writhing under the curse of their wounds.

Moments later, Clover's forces landed. Strangely, the sinking mud and writhing vines seemed to part around them, clearing a safe path while continuing to wreak havoc on the enemy.

Vortigarn raised a hand and roared, "Kill them all! Show no mercy!"

He hadn't even finished speaking before Lily, wearing a sadistic grin, charged ahead. The rest of Clover's army followed, their battle cries echoing across the battlefield.

The decisive clash had begun. The Magic Knights and Acier would lead the charge, cutting down Diamond's forces with ruthless efficiency, while the medical ward were to dart among the chaos. They would work tirelessly, healing their comrades mid-battle, saving as many as they could, or at the very least prolonging their lives just long enough to ensure they could take down as many Diamond soldiers as possible.

At the rear of the advance, Acier and Sebastian, both glowing red from Alden's blessing, trailed behind the others. Acier glanced up at him, her expression heavy with sorrowful emotion.

Sebastian noticed and forced a smile, his voice steady despite the bloodshed and carnage. "Don't worry about me—I'll be fine. You go on ahead."

Acier didn't move. Her gaze lingered, heat and concern evident in her eyes. Sebastian paused, his smile softening into something genuine.

"I won't die," he reassured her, his tone firmer. "I have to keep you alive after all. So don't worry—just focus on killing as many as possible. I won't let you die either."

Acier's eyes glistened as she sniffled, then silently leaned forward, planting a kiss on Sebastian's cheek. Without another word, she darted forward, her steel spear materializing in her hand.

Her eyes were red-rimmed and puffy, but her expression was cold and unyielding. She impaled a Diamond soldier through the heart without hesitation, ripped her spear free, and performed a seamless side flip to behead another.

I'm sorry for bringing you to this hell, Sebby.

Tears streamed down her face as she plunged deeper into the chaos, her weapon carving through the enemy ranks with deadly precision.

Sebastian's gaze lingered on her retreating figure before his grimoire flipped open. A rapier of water materialized in his hand, its blade gleaming in the dim battlefield light.

Nearby, a Diamond soldier writhed in pain, pinned by Dax's spiked vines. Sebastian stepped forward, his expression cold and indifferent. He thrust his rapier forward, piercing a neat hole through the soldier's brow and into his brain. The struggling man went still as Sebastian withdrew his blade.

On June 19th, 1601, Sebastian Theodorus Silva took a life for the first time.

—

Within the astral dimension, Alden ran a hand over his cheek, indifferently tracing a thin line of blood. The wound vanished as his finger passed over it, leaving his skin unblemished.

His gaze swept across the battlefield, taking in the chaos—the cracked earth, raging flames, and the broken remains of the seven Shining Generals.

One corpse lay impaled against a boulder, skewered by Alden's scepter. Another was sprawled nearby, his skull crushed into a gruesome mess of blood and brain matter. A third figure appeared untouched—his body unmarked, his clothes pristine—but his lifeless eyes and faded grimoire told a different story.

Elsewhere, one of the generals was engulfed in flames, his body serving as fuel for the inferno. Two others lay together, their fists driven through each other's hearts, their bloodshot eyes frozen in expressions of betrayal, as if they had struck down someone they once cherished.

Seven corpses was not entirely accurate; one had left no remains at all.

That left only one adversary still alive: Goldstein. The man knelt a short distance away, panting heavily, with Gnome slumped and sweating on his shoulder.

Goldstein's appearance was a contradiction. His clothes were in tatters—his cape scorched, his crown dented, and his hair disheveled. Yet his body remained entirely unscathed. Not a single wound, bruise, or scar marred his skin. The only signs of the brutal battle were the sweat dripping from his brow, the dust smeared on his cheeks, and the torn remnants of his attire.

Alden let out a quiet sigh. "Absolute defense is indeed an absolute defense."

Goldstein chuckled, though his voice wavered with exhaustion. Slowly, he stood, his legs creaking under the effort. Brushing himself off, he gave Alden a faint grin.

"A Wizard King is indeed a Wizard King," he said, his tone dry. "You're quite the monster."

Alden's expression remained neutral, his voice soft. "Yet you don't seem afraid."

Goldstein ran a hand through his disheveled hair, his grin widening. "A prophet like you should know why that is."

Alden did not respond, his silence eliciting a brighter smile from Goldstein.

"Now, Alden Arcana," Goldstein continued, his voice rising with challenge, "let's see which is stronger: a Wizard King or a Saint."

Alden clenched his fist, watching intently as Goldstein and Gnome began to glow. Their figures blurred and shimmered, seemingly merging into one as their combined power radiated through the air.

Alden's grimoire floated before him, its pages flipping back to the very first. A small card materialized out of thin air, solidifying as it dropped into his hand.

The card depicted a young man standing at the edge of a cliff, a knapsack slung over his shoulder, a rose in his hand, and a small white dog at his side.

Number 0 of the Major Arcana: The Fool.

Alden exhaled deeply, his shoulders heavy with resignation. Time to die.

Author's Notes: 

[1] I apologize for the lack of updates over the past week, it's just been tiresome. Thankfully that Astelle short stories have allowed me to distance myself and get a breather from this story for a while, so I could come back more invested.

But regardless let's repeat something, updates on Tuesday are absolutely impossible. I'm up at 6 in the morning and back at home around 7, that is if traffic is alright. I got no juice on Tuesdays. 

Wednesday are a maybe. I'll try to stick with you on Thursday, and some Fridays and Mondays. Weekends I don't know.

[2] Feel free to join the Discord! https://discord.gg/s3MME8X8ar