Kime and Fadex's fight continued.
The massive rune tore through the skies like a living calamity.
Every being felt its power.
The earth could not ignore it. Even the natural flow of reality strained beneath Kime's leash on Time.
Moments drew longer than expected. Hours were confused as seconds. A breath stretched into an eternity, while entire conversations collapsed into blinks.
Motion was deceiving.
Perception reigned supreme.
It was planetary-level control.
Time did not merely slow.
It fractured.
---
At the island territory at the edge of the continent, within Marcellonia country, commands were issued before the thoughts that inspired them. Soldiers moved — then received orders — then moved again to correct movements they had not yet made. A general watched his own hand slam against a war table twice before deciding to slam it once. Messengers arrived with reports that had not yet occurred, only for those events to scramble into existence moments later.
No one understood why.
Only that causality no longer obeyed sequence.
---
At Four Stars Academy, the moment of casualties repeated in no particular order.
A student fell — then stood — then fell again.
Flames erupted from the west wing before the spark that caused them was struck. A corridor collapsed twice, once inward and once outward. A scream echoed before the blade that caused it descended.
Sometimes the scene moved too quickly to follow.
Sometimes it crawled so slowly that ash seemed suspended midair, unmoving for entire heartbeats.
Sometimes nothing happened at all.
And sometimes the route of destruction altered completely, as though reality were testing variations before settling on a final draft.
---
In The Dead Men's Territory it was a loop.
Nothing he could do could change its set pattern, because there existed there a being of equal authority. Two edits colliding.
The loop played, reset, played again.
Unchanging.
Unyielding.
Even Kime's planetary grasp bent around that territory like water around stone.
---
At Mt. Dekka, though it was Carpathia's territory, it was still subject to his manipulation — but only faintly.
A miner swung his pickaxe twice, unaware he had only lifted it once. A stone rolled down a slope, returned to its peak, then rolled again. Conversations overlapped with themselves by half a sentence.
Minor reoccurrences.
Dismissed as déjà vu.
The mountain endured.
---
No body besides Kime — and the Legends — could possibly hope to move freely within this state.
To do so required existing outside the Laws of Time.
Even now, several branches of time strained against him.
Some snapped.
Some tried to diverge.
Kime was no longer a participant.
He was an editor of reality.
He saw each moment — over and over — under different circumstances.
If this student lived, that city burned.
If that Legend fell, another rose.
If this rune expanded further, the ocean would reverse tide across three borders.
He evaluated.
Selected.
Discarded.
And with each selection, the remaining timeline grew heavier — thicker — as all rejected possibilities were devoured by it.
The final remaining thread.
The one to which all others would return.
From an overarching view, Kime forgot something crucial.
The person he was fighting was no longer human in the conventional sense.
He was a Legend by all right.
—Snap!
A tear in the wrapped fabric of space split open, leaving a gaping wound in reality.
Fadex emerged hunched over, golden blood trailing from his nose.
In his hand was a blazing white lance.
His stance was deadly.
"You underestimated me too much, Kime!" Fadex roared as he shot forward.
At that moment, Kime knew he had truly miscalculated.
He had only two logical options.
Release his grasp on Time and Causality entirely — allow one random surviving branch to devour the others — and pray it was stable.
If not, multiple timelines would stretch across the same reality sheet.
That—
Would be chaos.
Or—
Tank the attack.
Prioritize resetting the planetary-level damage across all borders.
That was the only way to ensure everyone was safe at the end.
Even those who had died could be restored.
But Fadex was not going to give him that luxury.
He had held back deliberately.
He had acted as though he were using his full power — knowing it would lower Kime's guard.
He only needed one opening.
One critical strike.
He would not miss it.
"Vital Surge Break!"
One of his strongest attacks.
He channeled life energy into a single condensed point, forming a blazing white lance.
It was not merely piercing.
Upon impact, it released a violent shock that disrupted SE circulation entirely.
Against non-Legends?
It was catastrophic.
It harvested life so thoroughly that even the heavens denied the victim's existence.
Against Legends?
Perhaps not fatal.
But it severed connections to the higher planes — the very sources from which most Legends drew their power.
For mortals, the consequences were negligible in the grand scheme.
For Legends—
It was existential.
This was not a strike against one life.
It was a strike against countless who relied upon it.
Just one hit.
Kime closed his eyes.
Not in fear.
In calculation.
He had been caught.
But not the way Fadex believed.
"Fine," Kime said calmly. "Come in as well. It's difficult handling two at the same time."
"I thought you'd never ask."
A deep voice echoed from nowhere.
Just as Fadex closed in, a massive figure appeared in the space beyond Time.
Nearly ten feet tall.
Broad.
Heavy-set with a large stomach — yet muscles dense and defined beneath it.
His hand wrapped around Fadex's neck with slow inevitability.
To Fadex, it felt like the grip of a primordial hunter.
He was prey.
He tore free instantly, reappearing at a distance.
"Really," Kime said dryly, "it's only been a week since I woke you. How much are you eating that you're already getting fat again?"
"I'm not fat," the man retorted. "I'm well-fed. I wouldn't expect you sticks and bones to understand."
"Whatever. We have a situation."
The large man studied Fadex.
"I see. That's a new one. Where is he from?"
"I'm guessing Iron's side," Kime replied. "He uses Light techniques."
Fadex stood silently, reassessing.
He had almost done it.
He had almost killed a Legend.
But that window had closed.
As he was now, he could not take on both of them.
His goal was Carpathia.
The Legends were obstacles.
He would not die here.
"Kime Auburn," Fadex said coldly. "I will never forget you. I will return for your head — and Carpathia's."
"If it's a challenge to my title, come whenever," Kime replied evenly. "I'll take you. But do not entangle yourself with men like Corinth. Theirs is the deepest level of the Infinity T#$;-/#—"
His words fractured.
Censored.
Distorted by the massive causality seals imposed upon Earth.
The Seals of Nen.
"Even we who stand above cannot oppose the Laws guarding that place."
"Whatever," Fadex muttered.
He vanished.
The tear in space sealed itself.
And slowly—
Time resumed its single, chosen course.
---
Four Stars Academy — Headmaster Kime's Office
Alison Jean maintained her fragile persona for as long as possible.
As a spy, she had been taught never to break character — no matter the odds. It was imperative that she regained control of the situation.
A spy who abandoned character was already dead.
Her mission had two parts. The first — the destruction of the southern towers — was complete.
The second felt… personal.
She still could not think of a logical reason why she had been ordered to do it.
But she needed to get it done — and done well.
And for that, she needed the help of these foolish people who believed she was a victim.
She trembled on cue. Her breath hitched at careful intervals. Her fingers clutched the edge of the desk as though reality itself were the only thing keeping her upright.
"They… they came from the west wing…" she whispered, voice fragile. "I saw him near the sentry tower before it fell."
Silence followed.
The one hundred and fifty-three trainees who had survived stood packed into the office — many bandaged, some burned, others barely able to stand. Shock hollowed their eyes. Grief clung to them like a second skin.
The twenty remaining instructors stood rigid, exhaustion carved into their faces.
"Who?" Assistant Professor Custian Deluoris asked.
Alison hesitated — perfectly measured.
"…Gerald Stecham."
The room shifted.
Dozens of eyes snapped toward him.
Gerald blinked, stunned. "What?"
"You were there," Alison insisted, shrinking back as if afraid of him. "I saw you tampering with the SE crystals at their base. You said the towers were an obstruction. I heard you."
"That's a lie!" Gerald's voice cracked between outrage and disbelief. "I never— I wasn't anywhere near—"
Avery's gaze sharpened.
Rose took a step forward.
"Stop. This is neither the time nor the place for this," Instructor Keel Kun said, stepping in before the argument could ignite.
"Instructor Keel Kun—" Alison began.
The look he gave her silenced her instantly.
Hissing inwardly, Alison wondered if she had been discovered.
Keel Kun had seen inconsistencies. Too many. Too neat. Too convenient.
When Headmaster Kime told him there was a rat in the academy, he had not believed it.
Perhaps he had been too complacent. Too trusting.
He had felt it was wrong to accuse her without evidence. She had technically done nothing wrong.
You don't arrest someone for a crime they have yet to commit.
But now…
The deaths of his comrades, his students, his friends — they weighed on him like chains.
After he got the survivors out, he would allow himself to cry.
To mourn.
"Avery. Rose. Come with me," Keel Kun said, turning toward a more private office.
Rose opened her mouth to protest—
Then—
BOOOOOOM.
The sound did not merely echo.
It punched through the building.
The office trembled. Walls shuddered violently in their frames. Dust sifted from the ceiling in thin gray streams, coating hair and shoulders alike.
The trainees froze.
The instructors reached instinctively for their weapons.
Before anyone could speak—
BOOOOOM.
A second detonation.
Closer.
Heavier.
The floor vibrated beneath their feet — a deep, rolling tremor like a giant heartbeat beneath the academy.
Heat followed.
Subtle at first.
Then unmistakable.
The air thickened. Breathing felt heavier. Warmer. Wrong.
A bitter scent crept in — burning oil, scorched wood, and the sharp tang of melting crystal.
"What… is that?" someone whispered.
A trainee near the doorway touched the wall — then recoiled with a hiss.
"It's hot!"
Panic did not arrive as screams.
It arrived as realization.
Smoke curled beneath the office door.
A thin gray line.
Growing.
Keel Kun's expression hardened as he turned toward the corridor, his Spiritual Signature flaring instinctively.
He didn't need to open the door.
He already knew.
His voice, when it came, was low — and far more afraid than any of them had ever heard.
"…This is worse than before."
He looked back at them — at the injured, the terrified, the children trying to stand like soldiers.
"Four Stars Academy is on fire."
.
.
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Spiritual Energy (SE)
Spiritual Sea (SS)
Spiritual Signature (SST)