Crow (3)

Richard's laughter cracked through the air—harsh and echoing among the ruins still billowing smoke.

Franz's stern expression only amused him more. To Richard, suffering, determination, and courage weren't things to be honored—they were toys to be mocked.

"You're completely insane…" Franz muttered.

With a sharp stomp, Franz shot forward like an arrow released from a bow. The iron sword in his hand surged with Mana, glowing faintly in a silver-blue aura.

A violent clash erupted!

Richard calmly conjured two daggers of ice—clear, sharp, and as hard as cursed crystal. Sword and daggers collided, sending out bursts of light with every impact.

"Feels a bit unfair, doesn't it?" Richard sneered with a crooked grin. "A power like mine… against that cheap sword of yours?"

Franz smirked thinly. "Fairness? I don't need that. As long as my blade can cut through your rotten body, that's good enough for me."

Then everything exploded into motion.

Franz moved like a shadow—too fast for the naked eye. Slash after slash came from every angle. But Richard, with the agility of a demon, danced between each attack. As if time itself had slowed just for him, he dodged with movements that defied logic.

With a quick spin, Richard slid to Franz's flank. Once more, ice daggers and iron sword clashed in a whirlwind of ringing metal and slicing frost.

Then—

Richard spotted an opening.

His smile widened, and he shattered his ice daggers on purpose—detonating them in a brutal burst of cold energy.

The explosion blasted Franz backward.

But the veteran stabbed his sword into the ground, halting the momentum as his boots scraped against the dirt. Shaken, but still upright. Still facing forward.

"You're impressive, Franz. No wonder they used to call you the Prodigy of Roesberg Kingdom," Richard said, half in praise, half in mockery.

Franz wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth. "That title… I buried it long ago. The day I pledged my life to the House of Leonantus."

Richard scoffed and chuckled. "Is that so? You traded glory just to become a noble's guard dog? Seems like even House of Erlbaum has lost its dignity."

Franz's eyes darkened.

"Don't speak my family's name with that filthy mouth of yours."

"You're angry? Good." Richard grinned. "Let's end this while your emotions are peaking."

They launched at each other—two blurs of shadow and silver-blue, colliding in midair. But just meters before impact, Franz twisted—like water weaving through stone—and appeared behind Richard with a deadly slash.

But Richard was ready.

Using telekinesis, he halted Franz's sword mid-air, as if the air itself had turned into a shield.

"So you finally used your real power. Hypocrite," Franz growled, still holding in place.

Richard sneered and retreated seven meters. Raising a hand into the air—

Whoosh!

Dark projectiles—condensed orbs of dark-element magic—launched like cursed arrows.

Franz parried them one by one, his movements swift and precise. He closed the distance, slicing through the storm of magic, and attacked again.

Richard met him with two new blades of ice, and they clashed in a flurry. Metal and ice collided, shrieking through the air. Their movements—bounding from one pile of rubble to another—were too fast for the naked eye to follow.

Again, Richard hurled dark projectiles.

Franz cut them down one by one.

Two large chunks of debris—lifted by a blend of magic and force—rose into the air.

Intent on crushing Franz, Richard flung them mercilessly. But Franz activated Body Aura across his body. He stomped the ground and leapt high, evading the deadly collision. The blue aura cloaked him, making the jump look like flight.

"Damn crow…" Franz hissed mid-air.

Richard didn't respond. The amusement on his face had begun to fade. All that remained was a hiss of frustration, a deepening rage.

Then, like a child angry that his game wasn't going his way, Richard raised more rubble from the surroundings and hurled them, one after another.

Franz dodged. Again and again.

His aging body was forced to move like a youth's. Sweat dripped from his brow. His breath came heavy.

But he didn't stop.

On the other side of the shattered arena, Richard Theodore showed no signs of wanting to stop the battle.

It wasn't just about power anymore—this was about pride. He was the Crow of Wrath, the embodiment of unrelenting fury. But beneath all that rage lay a pride that could rival even the Crow of Pride himself.

'This old mutt… he really doesn't know when to stop. He's been waiting for a moment like this for years…' Richard thought, seething.

Magical energy pulsed violently around them like the heartbeat of a frenzied world. The air turned dry and scorching, vibrating with the clash of two overwhelming forces. The ground cracked beneath their feet, debris floated in the air, and the sky itself darkened, as though witnessing this deadly duel in silence.

Franz did not relent.His attacks kept coming—fast, lethal, and relentless. His magical energy surged like a storm cloud in an endless war.

Richard's ice daggers collided repeatedly with Franz's sword, shattering again and again—only to be recreated in an unending cycle.

The very sword Richard once called cheap shattered his weapons time after time. Even with his high-tier magic and boundless experience, Richard started to feel the pressure.

'If this keeps up… I'll lose! I could actually die here!'

Richard knew one thing for certain—he was stronger from the beginning. But no matter how great your strength, someone willing to die for one chance… is the most dangerous enemy of all.

Then something strange happened.

Franz stopped dodging.

Instead… he let himself be struck.

An ice dagger pierced Franz's body—tearing through flesh and bone. Blood splattered across the ground. The sickening hiss of ice tearing into human flesh was far too real.

They froze.

Franz stood there, his body riddled with wounds, his face lowered, blood flowing from his mouth and chest. But he didn't fall. He didn't yield. His eyes stayed locked forward—not on the pain, but on his enemy's face.

"Damn it! Why won't you stay down, you stubborn old bastard?!" Richard roared—part rage, part panic.

Franz laughed.

A wet, bloody cough mixed with a faint chuckle. Not the laughter of mockery, but of something far more terrifying—resolve.

"Why the hell are you laughing?!"

Franz raised his eyes. They glowed with the eerie calm of a man ready to die. "Because… you let me finish my incantation."

Richard's heart dropped.

"What…?"

Franz remained standing despite the wounds. His lips moved, and his final spell came forth—soft and slow, like a funeral hymn.

"Die alone with regret… or die with your enemy in honor…"

Richard understood now.

Franz never intended to win. He intended to end it all—with one final spell.

"You… you're insane!"

"Inferno."One word. Spoken in Igathi. The world held its breath.

Red magical energy surged into the sky. A wave of searing heat began to spread outward. Amid the devastation, Franz stood at the heart of the spell—like a torch that would burn everything to ashes.

Richard stood frozen. It was too late to run.

"You've won, Franz Erlbaum."Richard's voice was low, heavy. There was fear, yes… but also respect.

"Congratulations. Your death… will be remembered. For you've slain one of the Seven Crow Council."

"Sunburst..." Franz completed the incantation.

And then—

BOOM!

An earth-shaking explosion tore through the night.

Red light engulfed the sky. A shockwave of heat scorched the ground. The blast roared through the village, obliterating what remained of the ruins.

Flames soared high, burning across the Rockville night like a divine pyre.In the end, the two monsters vanished—swallowed by the very light of destruction they had summoned.

***

A ringing sound.His ears felt like they were about to burst, while his vision was blinded by searing white light—pure white, consuming the sky and earth like a world vanishing in a single second. But that light slowly began to fade… and from that void, Richard opened his eyes.

The sky was still dark. His vision still blurry.

'Did I… survive?'

He couldn't explain it.The Solar Magic spell unleashed by Franz Erlbaum was a manifestation of destruction, forged from the energy of the sun—more than enough to annihilate everything, including his own mortal body.

And yet, he was still alive.

Richard found himself lying among scorched debris, in the ruins of a village now unrecognizable. Small flames from the aftermath of Inferno Sunburst still licked at charred pillars and crumbling stone walls.

His body was stiff. His mana nearly depleted. But he was still breathing.

As his vision cleared, he saw—across the rubble that was finally cooling—a figure lying motionless. Franz Erlbaum.

His body torn, clothes tattered, wounds covering his face and chest. But… he was also still alive.'That damned old man… still breathing too.'

Before Richard could move further, a voice broke the silence. Sharp. Young. Worried.

"Uncle Franz!!!"

Hurried footsteps approached. A teenage boy, his dark-blue hair like a starless night sky, emerged from behind the rubble. His face was pale, but his eyes were sharp—filled with determination.

'That kid… not Franz's blood. But something about him… feels familiar.'

Adrian Nightwork knelt beside Franz's body, immediately checking his pulse.It was there. Weak, but still there.

Jerome and Shelly followed closely behind. Their breathing ragged—they had chased after Adrian when the explosion tore through the village.

"Is he still alive?" Shelly asked, worried.

"Yes… but his body is in critical condition," Adrian replied gravely."I never imagined Uncle Franz… was this strong."

From a distance, Richard could only watch. His hands were trembling, his body still too weak for another battle. But then… his eyes caught something.

At the boy's waist. A dagger. Small. Black.

"No way… Pendragon?! One of the Lesser Keys?!"

His eyes widened.It was one of the Eight Lesser Keys, the artifacts he and the Nox Crow had hunted for years.

"Jerome, you can use healing magic, right?" Adrian asked without turning.

"A little… I'm not very good at it." His voice was quiet, his eyes vacant from the trauma of losing his orphanage friends.

Jerome knelt beside Franz. His hands trembled as he channeled green magical energy into the old man's body. Light enveloped the deep wounds, slowly closing them. A coughing sound escaped… Franz stirred.

"Uncle…!?"

Those aged eyes opened slowly, staring into Adrian's face—his hand tightly grasped in his own.

"Adrian…? Why… are you still here… cough cough…"

"I would never leave you, Uncle."

But Franz's attention started to shift. His eyes widened. His gaze went through Adrian—toward someone behind him.

"He… he's here…"

"Who do you mean, Uncle?" Adrian turned—and right then…

"BIG BROTHER ADRIAN!! BIG BROTHER JEROME!!"

Shelly's scream echoed through the night.

They all turned.

And there stood Richard.His body was still weak, but black magic energy now swirled around him. His eyes glowed blood red. Shadowy projectiles floated in the air around him—poised to strike.

"Give that to me..." his voice rasped, dark and terrible, "...or you'll all die."

Adrian stared him down. No fear. Only resolve."And what if I say no?"

"YOU LITTLE BASTARD!!"

Richard's eyes flared. And at that moment… a flash of memory slammed into his consciousness. That figure—standing before him. Blue-black hair. Glowing green eyes. Resolute. Unshaken.

Berhart Leonantus.

"NO… IMPOSSIBLE!!!"

Richard's scream tore through the air, soaked in rage.

"YOU—YOU'RE ONE OF THEM! A DESCENDANT OF THOSE DAMN LEONANTUS WHO RUINED EVERYTHING!"

Adrian froze.'Leonantus…? What is he talking about…? Am I one of them?'

Richard hissed, fury boiling over.

"Franz Erlbaum… so all this time, you've been hiding the last surviving Leonantus from our purge!? You bastard!!!"

The dark projectiles began to pulse, drawing in more energy.

"PREPARE TO BE ERASED FROM EXISTENCE ONCE AGAIN, LEONANTUS BRAT!!"

But just before he could release them—someone appeared.

A figure cloaked in black. Masked.They stepped out from the shadows of the ruins, walking toward Richard without hesitation.

"Sir Wrath… you are ordered to return to headquarters."

"ARE YOU BLIND!? I'M ABOUT TO FINISH OFF THE LAST LEONANTUS!!!"

"Apologies… but this is a direct order from Sir Pride."

"To hell with Sir Pride!" Richard roared. "He's nothing but an arrogant fool who thinks he's a god!"

The cloaked figure faltered slightly. But he swallowed his fear and replied:

"It's not just from Sir Pride…This is a direct order… from The Director."

Suddenly, the world seemed to freeze.

Richard's face darkened. His voice vanished. His eyes dulled.

"…The Director, you say?"

"Y-yes… Sir."

Silence.

Then, without another word, Richard raised his hand.

The space beside him quivered. Distorted. A portal opened—dark blue laced with silver. Beyond it, a lavish room appeared, like the interior of an aristocrat's mansion, with dark wood walls and hushed magical lighting.

Before stepping through, Richard turned to Adrian.

"Don't think you're safe yet, Leonantus brat."His voice was venomous. "One day… I will return. And I will make sure your bloodline is wiped from this world completely."

And with that, he stepped into the portal with the cloaked figure.

The portal sealed. Silence fell once more.

The night felt even colder.

Adrian remained frozen. His eyes fixed on the spot where the portal had just been.

'Leonantus…? Then who… am I, really?'

Adrian stood still for a moment, surrounded by ruins still warm from the blast. The crackling remnants of Franz's Solar Magic whispered faintly, like the dying breath of a bloody chapter.But that wasn't what tightened his chest.

His mind was full. Overwhelmingly so.

'Am I... just a pawn in someone else's grand scenario?'

Thoughts spiraled. Richard's face. The word Leonantus. The dormant power he didn't understand. The Pendragon dagger at his hip. All of it pointed to one truth—He wasn't just an orphan boy who grew up in a busy village.

'Am I really Adrian Nightwork? Or is this just a role that's been forced onto me?'

And that realization frustrated him.

Just a few days ago, he was nothing more than a regular human from another world—Earth. A college student with a hard life and too many assignments.Now, he was inside a novel he had bought by accident.Alive. Breathing. Trapped.

Not as a safe, background character far from danger.Not as a nameless extra dying off-screen to strengthen someone else's story.

But as the protagonist himself.

'Of course. It's the protagonist's fate to be caught in great turmoil. To clash with world-ending forces. To carry forgotten secrets. To wield hidden powers. To be hunted by enemies who've hated his blood long before he was born.'

He let out a long breath, staring at his left hand—dirt-stained and streaked with drying blood.'If I really am the protagonist of this novel… then there's no escape. No option to 'skip the dangerous arc.' No button to 'exit the story.''

He looked up at the sky.Still dark, but no longer as threatening. Richard was gone—for now.If Adrian ever met Agoris, the entity that brought him to this world called Aterra, he had a lot of questions to ask.

"Jerome. Shelly. We have to get out of here. Uncle Franz needs somewhere safer to recover."

Jerome nodded, his face still somber but more composed. Shelly followed with a quiet nod. Together, the three of them lifted Franz's weakened body and began walking through the ruins, which no longer burned.

Their village—Rockville—was now nothing more than ashes and rubble.But at least for tonight, they were still alive.

And amidst the destruction, one thing became certain in Adrian's heart:

"If this really is a novel… If I truly am its main character… Then from now on—I'll write my own story. Not as a pawn. But as the one who moves the board."