Allen stepped inside his apartment and carefully shut the door behind him. He moved straight to the living room.

  He knew he wasn’t alone.

  Someone had been following him since he left the academy—perhaps even before that. Before making any rash decisions, he needed to evaluate who was tracking him and why.

  Then he felt it.

  A murderous presence, lurking in the shadows of his own home.

  How had they gotten in?

  Allen remained unfazed as a wave of magic rippled through the air.

  Techno-magic limiters had just been activated.

  This cutting-edge technology, developed by the academy, was designed to suppress the magical energy of designated targets by disrupting their internal flow.

  A cold sensation ran through his body. His magic flux was immediately reduced, his circuits forced into dormancy.

  Then, a voice pierced the darkness.

  "Allen Clerc."

  A man stepped forward from the shadows. He was clad in a long black coat, his face concealed by a pristine white mask.

  "You are under arrest for conspiracy against the Empire."

  Allen raised an eyebrow.

  "So that’s why you were following me." A smirk tugged at his lips. "You and I both know you’re not here to arrest me."

  The masked man remained silent.

  Then, in one fluid motion, he drew his weapon.

  The Chronos Blade.

  Its pristine white surface gleamed under the dim lighting, golden runes intricately engraved along its length. Sleek, almost spear-like in design, it was far from a traditional sword—a weapon crafted for a master of close combat.

  And most importantly...

  A weapon forged by the Grand Master Calomnias Virdus, the apprentice of the greatest techno-magic inventor in history.

  A weapon capable of distorting time itself around its wielder.

  Allen felt his instincts scream in warning.

  He had prepared to face a formidable enemy.

  But he had not accounted for this.

  His opponent lunged.

  The enchanted steel sliced through the air at an impossible speed.

  Allen barely managed to dive to the side, dodging by mere centimeters as the blade nearly grazed his throat. Aimed directly at his vital points.

  Something was wrong.

  His movements—slower than usual.

  His opponent—moving with godlike speed.

  It wasn’t just the limiters suppressing his magic. The Chronos Blade was distorting his perception of time itself—his brain’s signals to his muscles lagging, his reactions dulled.

  A duel against such a weapon was suicide.

  He had to end it quickly—or die.

  But it wasn’t time to die yet.

  Allen had a plan.

  With a sharp stomp, he sent a pulse of magic disruption through the floor.

  For a fraction of a second, the techno-magic limiters faltered, and the influence of the Chronos Blade flickered.

  A fraction of a second was all he needed.

  He channeled every drop of his remaining magic into his legs.

  Then, he launched forward.

  At the last moment, he redirected all his energy into his right arm.

  His fist struck the assassin’s mask—a fracture split across the right side of his face.

  Hope flickered in Allen’s eyes.

  A mistake.

  His opponent reacted instantly.

  The Chronos Blade didn’t just slow enemies—it enhanced the reflexes of its wielder.

  Alex dodged at the last second, switching his sword to his left hand, and with a swift, precise, untainted strike—

  Steel tore through flesh.

  Allen felt burning pain explode in his throat.

  A second later, a deep crimson dripped down his neck.

  His breath caught violently.

  He stumbled back, clutching his wound, blood seeping through his fingers.

  His opponent straightened, unshaken.

  With one gloved hand, he wiped the blood trickling from the crack in his mask.

  Then, for the first time, he spoke.

  "You could have been a great mage, Allen."

  Allen, struggling to breathe, smiled through the pain.

  "And you… you could have been a great man."

  His opponent said nothing.

  He simply stepped back—letting him bleed out.

  But Allen had not lost yet.

  He had accounted for this possibility. He knew his opponent had come alone.

  He knew he had little chance of winning.

  But he had one final ability left.

  Summoning the last embers of his strength, he channeled every bit of remaining magic.

  A silent pulse rippled through the air.

  Alex immediately shifted into a defensive stance, amplifying the Chronos Blade’s power to conjure a barrier.

  A surge of raw magic flooded the room, scattering fragments of illusion and energy in all directions.

  A flash of blinding light erupted from Allen’s core.

  The attack stopped just short of his enemy.

  He had no strength left.

  So, he changed his objective.

  He manipulated the residual magic floating in the room—

  And he etched a cryptic message into the air.

  A message meant for Bastien.

  A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

  A message only he would be able to unlock.

  Then, with his final breath, he prepared one last attack.

  A devastating technique passed down from his late father—

  Lumina Stratos.

  A technique that erased the very soul of its victims, leaving nothing but an empty shell.

  But in return—

  The user had to sacrifice their own soul.

  Allen raised his arms like a bird taking flight, pointing a trembling finger at his enemy.

  Alex braced himself, eyes clenched shut, shielding himself from the impending light.

  Seconds passed.

  Nothing happened.

  He opened his eyes—

  Allen was still standing.

  But his soul had already departed.

  He had died—standing.

  Like a sage, pointing at the contradictions of the world…

  A world that never had an answer for him.

  The Next Morning

  Bastien felt strange. He hadn’t been able to sleep after the events of the previous night. His mind was racing—planning his next steps.

  With Allen’s ability, infiltrating Concordia’s system would have been child’s play. They could have worked their way up, influencing the highest sages, slowly tearing the system apart from within.

  He needed a strategy.

  But strangely…

  Allen didn’t show up to class that morning.

  At first, Bastien remained calm. Maybe Allen was caught up in another project. Maybe he just needed time to process their recent infiltration.

  But that was unlikely.

  At the Academy of Pure Faith, missing even a single day without a valid excuse could be grounds for expulsion.

  And as the hours dragged on, unease gnawed at his chest.

  Unable to ignore the growing anxiety, Bastien left the institute—heading straight to Allen’s apartment.

  The avenue was blocked off.

  Mages in black uniforms surrounded the residential complex. A floating sigil of the Order’s police force pulsed above them, projecting a containment barrier.

  Bastien’s chest tightened.

  He pushed his way through the bystanders, forcing himself closer. He approached a guard, his voice trembling despite himself:

  "What happened?"

  He subtly wove illusion magic into his words, nudging the officer’s mind.

  The officer barely glanced at him before replying.

  "A suicide."

  Bastien felt his blood turn to ice.

  "Who?"

  The officer didn’t even look at him.

  "A student from the academy. We found him this morning."

  Bastien’s world shattered.

  He used his magic to vanish from sight, slipping past the guards unseen.

  Then he saw it.

  Allen’s apartment.

  Perfectly clean.

  No signs of struggle.

  Only Allen, lying peacefully on his bed.

  A faint smile frozen on his lips.

  And a single letter on his desk.

  A fake suicide note.

  Bastien clenched his fists.

  This wasn’t a suicide.

  Allen would never write something like this.

  Allen would never surrender.

  His breath grew ragged.

  His vision blurred with rage.

  And in that moment—

  Something inside him snapped.

  A wave of magic, unlike anything he had ever felt before, engulfed Bastien—its warmth eerily similar to Allen’s.

  The room distorted.

  And suddenly, he was no longer in the present.

  Allen’s message appeared before his eyes.

  He saw the events of the previous night unfold. The battle. The struggle. Allen’s death.

  Then—everything stopped.

  Bastien was violently pulled back into reality, gasping for air.

  Even in death, Allen had managed to send him a message.

  The Order was after them.

  He couldn’t believe it.

  He had to get out of here.

  He turned on his heel. But at that instant—

  "What are you doing here, Chronos?"

  Bastien froze.

  Slowly, he turned.

  Standing before him was his master—Alex Aster.

  The Chief of Police was here, leading the investigation into what was officially being labeled a suicide.

  Bastien stood motionless.

  But he forced himself to speak.

  "Master... I..."

  The vision had shaken him. His thoughts were in disarray. He couldn’t even form a coherent sentence.

  Alex Aster’s gaze remained steady, calm.

  There was no sadness, no sympathy in his expression. Only analysis.

  "Calm yourself, Chronos. I know you were close. It is unfortunate to see such a promising student meet such an end."

  His voice was measured.

  Controlled.

  Devoid of any emotion.

  Bastien, still in shock, opened his mouth—

  But no words came out.

  His mind refused to process Allen’s death. But now, he needed answers.

  "Master… do you truly believe he took his own life?"

  Alex was a master investigator, a brilliant tactician, and an unmatched psychologist. If anyone could unravel the truth, it was him.

  Alex examined the scene again, his eyes calculating.

  "This is indeed a strange case. The victim allegedly slit his own throat and then sat against the wall. But something is off… the angle of the cut is inconsistent with a self-inflicted wound."

  He turned his gaze toward the right side of the room, then activated his Alteration Magic to reconstruct the scene from every angle.

  He frowned slightly.

  "There are blood splatters in multiple areas."

  His voice was quieter now, but edged with certainty.

  "This crime scene was staged."

  Then, his eyes met Bastien’s.

  "But you already knew that… didn’t you, my student?"

  Bastien hesitated.

  For a brief moment, he considered telling his master everything.

  About the vision. About Allen’s message.

  But then—

  A faint, indistinct alarm rang in the back of his mind.

  An instinct. A whisper. A warning.

  He looked at Alex Aster once more.

  Something about him felt… different.

  Then, Bastien saw it.

  A thin cut across Alex’s right cheek.

  Exactly at the same spot where Allen had struck his killer.

  And in that instant—

  Bastien understood.

  Alex Aster was the murderer.

  His heart stopped.

  His pupils dilated slightly.

  Then—he forced himself not to react.

  Do not tremble.

  Do not flinch.

  Do not let him know that you know.

  Silence stretched between them.

  Bastien opened his mouth, searching for something—anything—to say.

  Nothing came out.

  Alex’s gaze lingered on him.

  "Are you alright?" he asked, slowly.

  Bastien nodded a little too quickly. Too nervously.

  "Y-Yes… Just… It is the shock. I still can’t believe it."

  Alex did not respond immediately.

  Then, he smiled.

  A cold, glacial smile.

  "Don’t dwell on it, Bastien."**

  "Allen was weak."**

  His voice dropped just slightly.

  "And you… are not. Next time, choose your friends more carefully. They might become… a liability."

  A chill ran down Bastien’s spine.

  Alex was not moving.

  But his eyes were watching. Calculating. Testing.

  I have to leave.

  Now.

  Bastien forced himself to take a deep breath and stepped back slightly.

  "I… I should go home."

  He took a single step backward.

  Alex didn’t stop him.

  Bastien turned slowly and walked away.

  He could feel Alex’s gaze still on him.

  Don’t turn around.

  If I look at him again, he’ll see the fear in my eyes.

  He continued walking.

  He turned the corner.

  And the moment he was out of sight—

  He ran.

  His breath came in ragged gasps.

  His heartbeat pounded too fast, too loud.

  Bastien didn’t know how he made it across the city.

  His legs moved on their own, while his mind struggled to process the day’s revelations.

  One thing was certain.

  The Order would come for him. Soon.

  There was only one person who could protect him now.

  Bastien burst into the estate.

  Before he could even catch his breath, a booming voice echoed from the stairs.

  "Bastien!"

  He looked up.

  Jacques Chronos stood at the top of the staircase.

  "Father? You were supposed to return tonight!"

  Jacques’s furrowed brows betrayed his concern.

  "I came back the moment I heard about Allen."

  He slowly descended the stairs, never breaking eye contact with his son.

  "Tell me everything."

  The Truth

  In his father’s study, Bastien revealed everything.

  The infiltration.

  The secrets hidden within the archives.

  The truth about the rune stones and the falsified history.

  Allen’s murder.

  And finally—

  Alex Aster.

  When he finished, an oppressive silence fell over the room.

  Jacques didn’t react immediately.

  He sat there, fingers interlocked, staring into the crackling fireplace.

  Then, he exhaled slowly.

  "You could have lived a peaceful life, Bastien."

  Bastien frowned.

  Jacques turned toward him, and for the first time, Bastien saw uncertainty in his father’s gaze.

  "You could have simply followed your path, become a respected Techno-Mage, served the Order, built a family… Maybe not an extraordinary life, but you would have been alive."

  His tone was hard. Almost accusatory.

  Bastien clenched his fists.

  "I couldn’t turn a blind eye."

  Jacques let out a heavy breath.

  This conversation was painful for him—but it wasn’t anger.

  It was fear.

  He rubbed a hand over his face, fatigue seeping into his features.

  Then, his voice dropped.

  "They will come for you."

  His words were calm.

  But unwavering.

  "Alex Aster is no ordinary man. I taught him everything he knows. He won’t leave any trace. He won’t confront you immediately. He will watch. Wait. And the moment you slip, he will eliminate both of us."

  Bastien gritted his teeth.

  "But why would he come after you? You’re his master."

  Jacques gave him a long, steady look.

  "Because to him, defying the Order is unforgivable. He either believes I corrupted you… or that I failed to guide you."

  His father’s voice hardened.

  "Either way, we are both threats. Think about it. Why are you still alive? He could have killed you already."

  Bastien had felt it.

  In that last exchange of glances, he had sensed Alex’s killing intent.

  "Then what do I do?"

  Jacques sighed.

  Then, he met Bastien’s gaze.

  "You must flee."

  A cold wave washed over Bastien.

  "Flee? But—"

  "You have no choice."

  Bastien swallowed.

  "If I flee… where would I go?"

  Jacques turned away slightly.

  Then, he answered.

  "Tempestas."

  Bastien’s eyes widened.

  "TEMPES—?! You want me to go to our enemies?!"

  Jacques gave him a bitter smile.

  "I've prepared for this."

  Then, he placed a firm hand on Bastien’s shoulder.

  And for the first time in years—

  There was genuine emotion in his gaze.

  "Before you leave… you must learn the truth."

  He turned, walking toward a hidden door behind the bookshelf.

  Then, he looked back.

  "Come. It’s time you learned who you really are."