With the torment of the Crystal Froststorm bearing down upon them, Arlysa knew that their only chance for survival was to retract her Extreme Magic, Eternal Nightfall which surrounded the area in darkness.

  Arlysa extended her staff and commanded the darkness to retreat. The shadows that had suffocated the battlefield coiled and slithered back into the length of her staff like ink drawn into a vial.

  A hush fell over the battlefield.

  Above them, the true night sky of the Mystical Forest stretched wide. The eerie glow of bioluminescent flora flickered back to life, revealing the wreckage left behind—the torn ground, jagged ice formations and scorched remains of Sylra and Roselle’s clash.

  Roselle exhaled with steam rising from her lips. Now that she was free, she could finally see Sylra clearly.

  And Sylra was wide open. Roselle’s lips curled into a sharp grin. "Finally. I see you now. Time to light you up."

  She stepped forward with fire surging—but before she could close the distance, Sylra suddenly lurched backward.

  "Oh no, you don’t!" Roselle snarled, lunging after her—

  But Sylra moved fast.

  “Tch—coward!” Roselle spat while skidding to a stop as Sylra disappeared beyond her reach.

  Sylra skidded to a stop beside Arlysa, breathing heavily.

  Arlysa’s eyes flicked toward her. Her face twisted in displeasure upon looking her favored student up and down.

  Sylra’s muscular body was glistening with sweat and blood. Her half-cut tank top was barely hanging onto her frame. Bruises painted her toned stomach and arms. Rips in her short pants exposed glimpses of orange underwear underneath. Scorch marks and ice burns decorated her skin.

  “You’re in no condition to keep fighting.”

  Sylra scowled. "I'm not done yet—"

  "You are," Arlysa interrupted. “If you push it any further, you’ll die.”

  Sylra Eyed Arlysa back and said, “Ya ain’t got room to talk, you know..”

  Arlysa’s dark mage outfit in tatters. Her hair, once curled inward was a wild mess, matted with blood and dirt. The staff in her hand was cracked.

  Arlysa and Sylra locked eyes. A tense silence stretched between them.

  Then, in perfect sync—

  “You look like shit.”

  They both scowled.

  "Excuse me?" Sylra snapped.

  Arlysa scoffed while lifting a hand to push back her tangled hair. "Have you seen yourself? You look like you got dragged through a meat grinder.”

  Sylra scoffed right back. "And you look like a gothic scarecrow who got caught in a hurricane.”

  Arlysa’s eye twitched. "Gothic what?"

  Roselle, Risebelle and Runebelle met up and stood side by side, watching the bizarre exchange unfold with faces of pure bafflement.

  Arlysa’s lips pressed into a thin line. “I could end you right now,” she muttered.

  Sylra smirked. “Yeah? You’re welcome to try, scarecrow.”

  Arlysa slowly lifted her staff. “You do remember who taught you, don’t you?”

  Sylra cracked her knuckles. “Yeah, but do you member how many times I knocked you on your ass when you were training me?”

  Arlysa's brow twitched. “...That never happened.”

  Sylra tilted her head. “Ohhh, riiight. You were unconscious most of those times, so I guess you wouldn’t remember.”

  A vein in Arlysa’s temple visibly throbbed.

  “You arrogant little—”

  Arlysa moved first. Sylra moved second.

  Both lunged—

  —and immediately staggered as their wounds betrayed them.

  “Gah—!”

  “Shit—!”

  Arlysa clutched her ribs while Sylra almost lost her footing.

  For a few moments, neither spoke.

  Then Sylra snorted.

  Then Arlysa smirked.

  Then, to the complete and utter confusion of everyone watching—

  They both started laughing.

  “…What the hell are we doing?” Sylra muttered between breaths.

  Arlysa sighed and shook her head. “I have no idea.”

  A few feet away, Roselle, Risebelle, and Runebelle stood in complete disbelief.

  Risebelle groaned. “You know, we could’ve blasted them like five minutes ago.”

  Roselle crossed her arms. "Yeah… we could have."

  She squinted at the two laughing messes in front of them.

  “…So, uh. Maybe the fight’s over?” Roselle offered hesitantly.

  Risebelle scoffed while training her medium-sized cannon on them. "Not until they’re dead, it’s not."

  Something felt off. They were strong—she wouldn’t deny that—but the way they were standing there with no guard? This felt way too easy.

  That’s when Runebelle, who had been silently observing the entire time tilted her head and murmured, “I think they’re bonding.”

  Roselle and Risebelle turned to her, equally horrified.

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  “Don’t say that!”

  Suddenly, a massive wall of fire erupted infront of the sisters. Coming out from the wall with effortless swagger was Alan. He spread his arms wide.

  "Ladies, looks like I’ve crashed your party, huh?"

  Then came a high-pitched squeal from someone.

  “ALAN!”

  Roselle practically vibrated in place with her whole face lighting up.

  With a lazy grin, he snapped his fingers into twin finger guns, first aiming at Roselle. “Whoa. Look at you. All fired up and ferocious. I like it.”

  Then he turned to Risebelle. “And you—Chilly as always.”

  Risebelle lowered her eyes. "Real original."

  Alan smirked before his gaze shifted—finally landing on Runebelle, now standing in her teenaged form.

  “Alright, hold up. Who’s this?”

  Roselle, still beaming, jumped up and threw an arm around Runebelle’s shoulder. “This is Runebelle!”

  Alan’s green eyes flicked up and down. His lips quirked into a playful smirk and he leaned slightly forward."Gotta admit…that new look is pretty hot.”

  Arlysa’s foot slammed into the ground. “Alan, what the hell are you doing flirting with the enemy?!”

  Sylra jabbed a finger in his direction. “Yeah! You tryin’ to piss us off or somethin’?!”

  Alan blinked at them, then smirked while lifting his hands. “Whoa, whoa—relax, ladies. No need to get all jealous.”

  Both Arlysa and Sylra visibly bristled.

  Alan realized he was about to get decked. He quickly said, “Listen, I can compliment you two just fine!” He gestured vaguely at them. “Like, uh… Arlysa! You… uh… you look…” His eyes flicked over her torn outfit, tangled hair, the dirt, the blood.

  A pause.

  “…really seasoned.”

  Arlysa’s eye twitched.

  He turned to Sylra next, pointing at her with both fingers. “And you! You’ve got that, uh… battle-worn, rugged aesthetic going on. Very… survivor-chic.”

  Sylra’s face contorted. “…Did you just call me rugged?”

  Alan nodded proudly. “Yeah! And it totally works for you.”

  Sylra looked about two seconds away from punching him.

  "Enough with the pleasantries,"Arlysa declared. “Alan, do you realize that you are under suspicion of betraying the Magical Academy?"

  Alan blinked. “Wait—what?”

  Arlysa crossed her arms, eyes narrowing. “You’re under suspicion of betraying the Magical Academy.”

  Alan pointed at himself. “Me? Since when?”

  “Since you vanished.”

  Alan scoffed. “Nobody told me jack. Then again…” He scratched the back of his head and looked up momentarily. “I haven’t exactly been to the academy since, y’know—” He lazily gestured at Roselle, Risebelle, and Runebelle. “—I got my ass handed to me by these three.”

  Arlysa’s brow twitched. “You’re actually admitting that?”

  “Why not? It happened.” Alan shrugged. “Denying it won’t change the fact that they were stronger than the me of a few hours ago. I lost.”

  Arlysa stared at him like he had just spoken in an alien language. Sylra looked equally bewildered. “Who the hell admits something like that?”

  Alan gave her an easy grin. “A guy who’s honest with himself.”

  Arlysa stepped closer towards him. “You are one of the Academy’s top Elite Mages and here you are openly confessing to losing a battle against experimental constructs—”

  “Hey,” Risebelle interrupted while giving her a sharp glare. “Watch the tone.”

  Arlysa ignored her. “—and you expect me to believe you’re not up to something?”

  Alan sighed and tilted his head. “Look, if I was really a traitor, would I be this casual about everything?” He spread his arms.

  Arlysa was still skeptical. “Then why have you not reported in like Aliana has?”

  Alan let out an awkward chuckle. “Uh… recovering? Y’know, healing? My ribs were busted, my magic reserves were tanked, and let’s not forget my ego took the worst hit of all.”

  Arlysa narrowed her eyes, but there was no deception in his face.

  “…Hmph,” she huffed. “If you are telling the truth, then you’ve been horribly irresponsible.”

  Arlysa’s spoke with frustration taking to her tone. "I know you, Alan. You've always been a hothead, gathering mages and showing mercy when you should've finished your enemies. We've had to clean up after your reckless behavior countless times at the academy."

  She didn't stop there. "And let's not forget the past. You had a chance to eliminate Dr. Kintovar didn’t you? What happened? You let her live and now we have Risebelle, Roselle and Runebelle. You've proven time and time again that you're a liability as an Elite Mage!"

  Alan recalled that fateful day.Dr. Kintovar had been cornered—breathing heavy with blood trailing down her temple. Despite her ragged state, she still clutched a broken device in her hands with her sunglasses barely hiding the desperate gleam in her eyes.

  Alan stood before her with flames crackling at his fingertips. His lips had curled into a smirk. “You’re a tricky one, Doc. Setting traps, leading me in circles through this forest…” Alan tilted his head and studied her. “Not bad. But this is the end of the road.”

  Kintovar gritted her teeth. Behind those pink-lensed glasses, Alan swore he saw tears.

  “Go on.” He lowered his flames and gave a lazy wave of his hand.

  Kintovar blinked. “…What?”

  “You heard me.” Alan grinned. “I wanna see what you do next.”

  For a split second, disbelief crossed her face. Then, something else—calculating.

  Kintovar slammed the broken device onto the ground. A blinding flash erupted that engulfed everything in light.

  “Ah, shit—!” Alan staggered.

  By the time his vision cleared, Kintovar was gone.

  And then—

  “Alan!”

  A younger Arlysa burst onto the scene. She skidded to a stop beside him and scanned the empty space where Kintovar had been. Her eyes squinted.

  The memory faded. Alan’s eyes refocused on the battlefield.

  Arlysa’s gaze was sharp. “If you truly aren’t a traitor, Alan, then prove it. Help us take out these three brats.”

  Roselle, Risebelle, and Runebelle tensed.

  Alan sighed and rolled his shoulders. “Well, damn. Guess I don’t have a choice.”

  He turned toward the trio. His usual cocky grin was replaced with something almost… regretful. “Sorry, girls.”

  Roselle’s flames flickered uncertainly. Risebelle narrowed her eyes and Runebelle shifted uneasily.

  Then, Alan turned back to Arlysa.

  “—But I do wonder,” he said while tilting his head, “if helping this Academy is still a good idea after all.”

  Arlysa stiffened. “What?”

  Alan gestured vaguely at the destruction surrounding them. “Y’know, back when we first got to this island, we had over ten thousand mages stationed here. Sure, some died when those scientifically created creatures started attacking. But even after we captured the scientists and had them executed, our numbers kept dropping.”

  He paused and watched Arlysa’s expression carefully. “Now we’re down to maybe one to two thousand. Give or take.”

  A tense silence.

  Arlysa scoffed. “That’s war, Alan. We’ve been fighting constant battles—”

  Alan shook his head. “Nah. That’s too big of a decrease. Even accounting for battles, that doesn’t add up. Unless…” He folded his arms. “Some of our own mages are being eliminated for reasons we’re not told.”

  Arlysa’s face darkened. “…That’s ridiculous.”

  Alan ruffled his fiery hair with a smirk. "Oh, wait. Why am I even telling you this? You’re part of this whole thing with the Headmaster, aren’t you?"

  Several beads of sweat formed on Arlysa’s face. "W-What are you talking about?"

  Alan chuckled. "Ah, there it is. That little flicker of nerves. Looks like I was right."

  Sylra, who had been watching the exchange with furrowed brows crossed her arms. "Huh. That’s funny. Arlysa, what are you getting all nervous for?"

  Arlysa shot her a glare. "I'm not—"

  Alan pointed at her with a lazy grin. "Oh, but you are." His tone turned teasing. "Say, Sylra, you wanna know why Arlysa trained you?"

  Arlysa’s face immediately shifted into panic. "No. Shut up, Alan."

  But Alan just kept going. "It's not 'cause she believed in you. Not 'cause she thought you were special. It’s ‘cause she needed you. For something bigger. Something you weren’t supposed to question."

  Sylra’s sharp gaze snapped to Arlysa. "What?"

  Arlysa clenched her jaw. "Alan. I swear—"

  But Alan leaned in, eyes gleaming. "C’mon, Arlysa. Tell her the truth. Or should I?"

  Arlysa’s breath hitched. "Enough!" She pointed a finger at Alan. "You—you’re a traitor now! You’ve turned against the Academy! We’ll take you out right here and now!"

  Sylra flinched. "Wait—you’re seriously—?"

  But Alan only stretched his arms over his head. "Traitor? Nah. I’ll formally resign after I have a little chat with the Headmaster. Y’know, clear some things up." He gave a salute. "Toodles!"

  And just like that, he bolted toward the Academy which stood unphased by the combat around it.

  “…Did he just say toodles?” Risebelle muttered in disbelief.

  "He did," Roselle confirmed with wide eyes.

  A vein twitched in Arlysa’s forehead. "Now you’ve forced my hand, Alan!"

  Her violet eyes darkened into an abyssal black.

  "Extreme Magic—"MIDNIGHT MOON!"

  A monstrous, inky moon rose above the battlefield that blotted out the natural light. Its surface cracked open, revealing jagged veins of pulsating void energy.

  Then—

  The battlefield erupted with piercing beams of black light, cutting through the terrain like deadly lances.

  Sylra's propelled herself forward with explosive force and slammed into Roselle with her shoulder like a human battering ram.

  Roselle barely had time to react before she felt herself launched off the ground—straight into the path of one of the searing black lightning bolts.

  CRACK—!

  The moment it struck, an unbearable shockwave of darkness ripped through her body.

  "AAAAAAGH!"

  She was sent hurtling upward—toward the massive moon looming above.

  The closer she got, the more the darkness seemed to devour her.

  Roselle’s body convulsed violently with pain writhing through every inch of her.

  On the battlefield below, Risebelle's eyes widened in sheer horror.

  "ROSELLE!!!" she screamed while raising a hand upwards.

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