The duel between Bermude and Phantasus was like watching the end of the world.
Blue and red masses violently collided and tangled, while lightning struck and hail poured from the sky. It was difficult enough just to keep up with the battle’s progression. As time passed, the fight grew more intense, and the scope of the battlefield expanded. Before long, water had flooded not only the ruins of the Tower of Time but the city as well. Nearby first-floor buildings were submerged, and building debris, park benches, and shattered streetlights floated about. Bermude’s lava cooled in the water, settling on the bottom, forming hills, or even turning into islands.
What was incredible about Phantasus, though, was that even in the midst of this insane battle...
’He’s saving everyone?’
The rising waters should have drowned the guards, scholars, and guests of the Tower of Time. Yet, even as he faced the Tower Master, Phantastus was using his water-flow magic to ferry more than a thousand people to safety, their unconscious forms riding the crests of the waves.
"While I, the Tower Master, fight with my life on the line, you have the luxury of saving people!" Bermude spat. At his gesture, a magic circle erupted, unleashing a torrent of lava like a blast furnace.
"That is my will," Phantastus countered, raising a tidal wave with a sweep of his arm to block the molten rock. "I came not to fight, but to save people."
"If that is your ego as a necromancer, then I have no choice but to respect it. It must be the very foundation of your strength. Of course..." Bermude gestured as if lifting something with his palm. "I hope you’ll forgive me for using that to my advantage."
A deafening roar echoed as lightning rained down across the flooded ruins, followed by a shower of volcanic debris. The indiscriminate assault forced Phantastus to focus all his efforts on controlling the waves that carried the survivors.
It was a bitter irony: the head of the Ivory Tower was trying to slaughter his own people, while a necromancer from Kizen fought desperately to save them. The clash between the two titans escalated, growing more intense with every passing moment.
Phantastus closed the distance. Riding a wave at five hundred kilometers per hour, he instantly materialized behind Bermude, his form a blur as he brushed past the Tower Master’s back.
’Phantastus Original – ’Sleep’
Though it looked like a simple pass, in that fleeting moment, Phantastus had touched Bermude three times, landing a full three stacks of his curse.
’He won!’ Simon clenched his fist, watching from a short distance. ’Three stacks from Senior Phantastus at full power. No human could possibly withstand that.’
However...
A calm, unconcerned smile touched Bermude’s lips. "Brilliant. I received detailed reports on your specialty. You were, after all, the number one recruitment candidate among last year’s Kizen graduates."
Lava gurgled from Bermude’s body, once again encasing him in a molten shell. "The affinities in a necromancer’s battle are absolute. Your ’Sleep’ is ill-suited against me."
Phantastus’s expression clouded over as he stood upon the water.
"Don’t tell me."
"Having mastered ten thousand spells, why do you think I insist on using lava magic as my primary weapon?" Bermude’s voice was slick with condescension as thousands of degrees of lava streamed from his shoulders, drenching his entire body. "My body is protected from the lava I emit, but my sense of pain remains. Right now, I am feeling every single one of my cells burn. That is my ego—pain. The more I suffer, the stronger I become."
As he gestured, volcanoes larger than any before erupted behind him. The sky was instantly blotted out by thick clouds, and massive chunks of volcanic debris began to rain down, their destructive power reminiscent of the ancient magic, ’Meteor’. Phantastus hurriedly raised a tidal wave to block the assault.
"Your ’Sleep’ is, strictly speaking, closer to a non-curse," Bermude explained, raising both arms. In the distant sky, countless faint magic circles began to unfold. "Its mechanism doesn’t forcibly induce sleep but merely makes the target drowsy. Therefore, I, who am feeling infinite pain, have no room to feel something as trivial as drowsiness."
A crackle of Jet-Black lightning followed his words. Phantastus deployed a series of defensive magic circles and tried to move, but while dodging the falling debris, he was struck repeatedly by the pursuing bolts and plunged into the water.
"Senior Phantastus!" Simon cried out. But lightning struck where he stood as well, forcing him to leap away onto a platform of solid Jet-Black.
"Hmph. How pathetic," Serne remarked bluntly from her perch in a nearby tree. "He can’t even handle my dying father."
"He’s the Tower Master!" Simon retorted. "And the affinity is terrible; it can’t be helped."
A curse-user specializing in ’Sleep’ was being forced to fight with his main weapon all but sealed. On top of that...
’The wound my future self inflicted.’
Bermude still had a gaping hole in his abdomen. He wasn’t healing it, instead using magic to maintain the injury, all to sublimate the agony into raw power. Phantastus’s ’Sleep’ could bypass curse resistance and couldn’t be broken with ’Cancellation’, but against a man armed with infinite pain, it was useless.
"Hahahaha! Do not worry, my junior! And you as well, Junior Serne!" Phantastus emerged from the water with a great splash, looking perfectly fine. "I admit I was flustered, as this is the first time I’ve encountered a necromancer with such a mechanism! But I still have a trump card! Mmm!"
"A trump card?"
"That’s right!" Phantastus turned and grinned. "It’s you two!"
With that, he bent his knees and shot forward, kicking up a mountain of spray.
"Ugh’, I’m exhausted," Serne whined, rising from her spot. "We’re both going to suffer because of this incompetent senior."
"What are you talking about?" Simon smiled faintly, raising the Greatsword of Ruin. He had recovered just enough energy to swing it a few times. "A chance will come soon. Don’t miss it."
The battle between Bermude and Phantastus unfolded without a moment’s pause. Phantastus shot across the waves, firing off curses, but Bermude blocked them with a chained ’Cancellation’ spell, driving his opponent into a corner with wide-area, four-element magic.
"No matter how much you stall, I will not self-destruct," Bermude said calmly. "The duration of that pointless ’Sleep’ you cast will simply run out..."
Suddenly, the waves accelerated. Two massive swells shot up with Phantastus at their center, surging forward at five times their previous speed.
’I lost him!’ Bermude realized. Phantastus had been capable of this acceleration from the start, dragging it out only to lull Bermude into a false sense of his speed and create an opening.
Two waves now rushed him from the left and right. Bermude coolly assessed that Phantastus had to be in one of them to close the distance for an attack.
’Left side first.’
He extended his right arm, activating a pre-prepared magic circle. Just as the wave of lava was about to shatter the tidal wave, the water split in half.
The world itself seemed to split apart. Bermude’s eyes shot wide open as he saw his own right arm flying high into the sky.
’A slash?!’
In the distance, he could see Simon, panting, having just swung the Greatsword of Ruin. The waves had been a diversion. The one remaining wave now circled around to Bermude’s undefended right side. Phantastus was inside.
’A futile effort.’
Bermude flicked his left index finger. A magic circle formed on his abdomen, and a spear of glacial ice shot out, piercing Phantastus’s body.
But the moment it struck, Phantastus’s form disintegrated into a shower of pure white feathers.
[I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve fooled you!] Serne’s voice echoed from the scattering plumage. [It wasn’t a coincidence that you thought I died on the hundredth floor, Father. I analyzed your cognitive patterns and detection habits every day just to deceive you.]
The real attack came from below. Phantastus surged up from beneath the water’s surface.
[By the way, all those times I smiled at you? That was an illusion. I was scowling.]
Bermude’s eyes widened in realization. "Serne—!"
His cry was cut short by a colossal explosion of water that launched his body into the air.
And waiting for him above was a staff with eyes, a nose, and a mouth, conjuring a storm of sand. Bermude’s vision was instantly lost in the swirling grit.
"Everyone, let’s begin," Simon declared, now clad in golden robes as he moved his hands.
’Herseva Original – ’World of Sand’
’Whoooosh...’
Bermude opened his eyes to a vast, empty desert stretching out under a blue sky.
"What a strange power," he muttered, looking around. "Have I been trapped in a dungeon?"
Soon, three sandstorms rose, and from them emerged Simon, Serne, and finally, Phantastus.
"Mmm! Excellent coordination, Junior Simon and Junior Serne!" Phantastus boomed, surveying their new surroundings. "I quite like the venue you’ve prepared. Now I can focus solely on the battle without worrying about anyone else."
"I’m glad to hear that..."
[Wait! What’s going on, kid!] Herseva’s voice screamed in his mind. [What am I supposed to do with this piddling amount of Jet-Black! I can’t even summon mummies properly!]
’Sorry, this is my limit right now. How long can you maintain it?’
[Five minutes is the max!]
Simon turned to Phantastus with a troubled expression.
"How long can you maintain it?" Phantastus asked, having already grasped the situation.
"Five minutes," Simon said quietly.
"Hahahaha! That’s plenty of time!" Phantastus laughed loudly and plopped down on the sand. "Well then, I’m off to sleep!"
"Senior?"
And with a soft snore, his head instantly slumped to the side.
"Wait! That’s too reckless—!"
In a flash, Bermude was right in front of the sleeping Phantastus.
"I won’t let you sleep!" His one remaining arm was covered in magic circles as it sliced through the air toward Phantastus’s face.
’Clang!’
A white blade intercepted it. Simon forcefully deflected Bermude’s arm with the Greatsword of Ruin. As his arm was knocked away, Bermude saw the magic circles on his skin shatter upon contact with the blade.
’How is he... a boy who was on the verge of death from a time rampage...!’
Bermude retreated, shouting, "Do not interfere, Legion Commander!"
Countless massive magic circles formed behind him, blazing with magma, ice, and lightning. Simon’s face hardened as he raised his greatsword.
"Die."
But this time, magic circles unfolded behind Simon.
"Oh my," Serne purred, approaching Simon’s side while fanning a feather. "That won’t do."
Bermude and Serne extended their arms simultaneously. Immense elemental magic erupted from dozens of circles, a true festival of elements that was the hallmark of Ivory Tower necromancers.
’Wow...’ Simon couldn’t help but smile, impressed. ’Did she just cancel out the Tower Master’s attack head-on?’
"How dare you!" Bermude roared in frustration. His body became engulfed in even more lava as three times the number of magic circles formed around him. "Di—!"
The moment he tried to move his arm, he sensed a change. It felt heavy. And...
’The air?’
He had only waved his arm, but it was now damp. Phantastus’s black magic was already complete.
[I shall begin.]
’Phantastus Original – Dream Trance’

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