Three minutes before Charles Arzenon arrived.
Raphael sat alone in the infirmary. The air pressed against him, heavy and suffocating. Every breath felt like dragging iron through a storm.
Deep inside his inner world, Cielux floated among the endless library of Codex Akasha, her presence calm and luminous.
"Cielux," he murmured mentally, voice low but tense, "before my father arrives, answer me this. What would happen if I told Akane about yo—"
Pain shot through him like a blade of ice. His chest tightened, lungs convulsing.
> "Try it again, Master… and I will shut down your systems."
The words echoed in his mind, cold and absolute.
Raphael froze. His heartbeat surged. His body trembled.
Shut down?
Not dead. Not even dying. But powerless.
His blood ran cold. His mind recoiled.
No. No, not that.
"…I'd rather die than be powerless again," he whispered through gritted teeth, shaking violently.
Cielux's sapphire gaze softened, yet her parasol tapped lightly against the mental floor, a sharp note cutting through the tension.
> "Not happening. There is no possibility in this world where I will let you die. You mean too much to me, Master."
Her words came half-serious, half-blushing, carrying an earnest weight that left him breathless.
He exhaled and spoke the command:
"I want you to analyze the entire Clock Tower. Activate Absolute Appraisal and scan everything — all research, all crests, all spells, all families. Then I want to copy every magecraft in this damn building."
Hatred twisted his voice. He remembered every humiliation, every slur, every sneer.
He wanted revenge.
> "Yes. Codex Akasha can handle all blueprints."
Raphael's lips curled into a vicious smile. His hands shook with excitement.
But then—
> "However, due to your lack of mastery and your extremely low magical energy, you cannot handle the full load. I will secure ninety percent of the acquired magecraft in the Second and Third Layers of the Codex for your protection. You will only have access to ten percent in the First Layer."
His smile faltered — but he nodded. He would take whatever he could.
The door clicked open.
Every muscle in Raphael's body froze.
Charles Arzenon walked in—a tall man with soft, corpulent robes, his expression a mask of pure, unshakable contempt. Behind him, a masked boy followed.
"So you're the disappointment I threw away like trash," Charles said casually, "even weaker than I expected."
Something snapped inside Raphael. The restraint, the fear, the buried pain—they all erupted.
"Worthless?" he hissed, rage dripping from every syllable. "The only worthless one here is your fat ugly—"
A flash of wind cut through the infirmary. Charles's wind-infused blade split the air, cleaving the space around Raphael. Only instinctive reflexes—sharpened by Cielux's guidance—kept him alive.
His knees threatened to buckle.
"So… this is the power of a Grand Mage?" Raphael breathed, his voice trembling with both awe and fury.
"I am not a Grand Mage," Charles sneered. "I am one of the Twelve Lords of the Clock Tower. Comparing me to them is foolish."
Raphael's mind spun. The full scale of what he was facing became terrifyingly clear. He needed to fight. He needed to survive. He needed— reacting to the latent power coursing through Raphael. Every inch of the room, every glyph and protective rune, had been analyzed by Cielux moments ago.
> "Master, teleportation sequence is ready. Spatial transference via Leyline Severance will begin," Cielux informed him.
Raphael's chest heaved. Blood coated his lips, but he forced himself to rise. His hands clenched into fists as the red lightning of the Lightning Beast Armor still flickered around him—an unstable, violent halo of energy.
"…Then let's see how much of a 'Grand Mage' you really are," he muttered, glaring at Charles.
Charles's gaze flicked toward him, incredulous. "You… you have the audacity to—"
Masked boy stepped forward, a conceptual blade appearing in his hand. The air around it warped unnaturally, space bending to his will. He was precise, cold, and unflinching—a perfect assassin molded by privilege and ruthlessness.
Raphael's eyes narrowed, instincts sharpening. He could feel Cielux's presence in the back of his mind, invisible tendrils of logic weaving through his perception, mapping out the battlefield.
If this is what humanity gives me… he thought, jaw tightening. I'll abandon it.
> "I won't let you cross that line," Cielux whispered in the inner world, her voice almost tender, invisible to him. "I promise, my beloved Master."
He did not hear her. Could not. His focus was singular: survive, retaliate, and end the threat his father and brother posed.
Masked boy truck first. A slash of raw conceptual energy tore through space, bypassing Raphael's fire spell entirely. The strike shredded the air, passing through him like he was already a ghost, grazing his chest. Blood welled in his mouth, taste sharp and metallic. Pain surged—but Raphael did not flinch.
Cielux's voice spoke simultaneously, calm and measured:
> "Master, Absolute Appraisal active. All threats, structural weaknesses, and energy signatures are being processed. Codex Akasha has cataloged everything in real time. Recommended evasion and countermeasures ready."
Raphael exhaled sharply. Even with Cielux's guidance, he had to act.
He surged forward, instincts honed. Red lightning arced along his body as the Lightning Beast Armor flared, amplifying his physical output. Every strike, every dodge, every calculation was enhanced by the Inner World's projection—the Codex Akasha filtering sensory input, analyzing probabilities, overlaying counter-strategies faster than his conscious mind could process.
Charles struck again. This time, not with brute force, but control. A wind-laced blade tore a clean path toward Raphael's neck. Instinctively, he parried—but Cielux had already rerouted his magical energy mid-motion. The residual lightning surged into the blade as he guided it into Charles's own arm, short-circuiting nerve signals. Charles staggered, eyes wide with shock.
"You walked into my trap," Raphael hissed, every word a controlled eruption of rage. "I let you strike… and now, you pay."
Blood ran from his mouth, dripping down his chin. Pain fused with fury, and for the first time, his system was operating as more than a reflexive machine. It was an extension of his inner world—Codex Akasha providing insight, prediction, and guidance, letting him act beyond normal human limits.
Masked boy lunged, but Raphael anticipated the conceptual slash before it fully formed. He redirected his mana flow, wrapping it into a compact sphere of lightning, and sent it spiraling toward Masked boy trajectory. The attack collided with masked boy blade, nullifying the strike mid-air. The masked boy stumbled back, momentarily disoriented.
> "Master, you now have access to elemental control: fire, water, earth, lightning, ether, teleportation magecraft, and curse magecraft. Codex Akasha is prepared to catalog new magecraft immediately," Cielux reminded him.
Raphael's lips curved into a grim smile. Even if I cannot fully wield it, I can manipulate the battlefield.
Charles roared, fury contorting his features. "You… disgusting failure! You dare—"
"You abandoned me once," Raphael spat, lightning crackling along his form, "and you thought I'd stay worthless? I've survived your cruelty. I've survived the world. And now…" He raised his arm, channeling the refined energy flows Cielux had optimized. "…I survive on my own terms."
Charles snarled.
"You're just as foolish as your mother."
Raphael froze.
"…My mother?"
Charles shrugged with amusement.
"That woman dared to threaten my position after I abandoned you. So I killed her. Turned her body to dust. She died like weak trash."
Raphael's eyes filled with tears — grief and rage colliding violently.
For a moment, he saw her face — someone who never stopped loving him.
The last warmth he never got to know.
Something inside him shattered.
The masked boy spoke calmly.
"I am Raguel Arzenon. Your little brother. The second son. The true heir."
Raphael glared at him through blood-soaked teeth.
"I don't care who you are. Move — or die."
Raguel laughed.
"Or what? Little weakling?"
He prepared to finish Raphael — but Charles raised a hand.
"No. Let the failure live. He'll bleed to death soon anyway."
Cielux's voice pierced the haze of agony.
Raphael Arzenon looked at his father and brother — not with fear, but with a monstrous will.
And he roared:
"CHARLES ARZENON — I SWEAR I WILL KILL YOU. I DON'T CARE IF I HAVE TO BECOME A MONSTER OR A DEMON. I WILL KILL YOU EVEN IF I HAVE TO FIGHT THE ENTIRE MAGE SYSTEM. YOU CAN RUN TO THE END OF THE WORLD — I WILL FIND YOU. IF YOU HIDE IN HELL, I WILL FOLLOW YOU THERE. THERE IS NO PLACE IN EXISTENCE YOU CAN ESCAPE FROM ME!"
The Leyline Severance sequence activated, space itself tearing around him in a controlled shatter. Raphael's body blurred as Cielux guided him through the fracturing space, teleporting him out of immediate danger.
He reappeared in a distant desert, blood still slicking his lips, heart racing, and lungs burning. The night sky stretched above him, vast and indifferent.
> "Master, teleportation consumed sixty percent of your magical energy," Cielux noted.
"…Just my fucking luck," he muttered through blood and grit.
His vision blurred. The world darkened.
Right before consciousness slipped away—
A girl sprinted toward him, panic in her voice:
"Hey! Hey, somebody's hurt! Stay with me — please stay awake!"
Her voice was the last thing he heard before everything went black.