’Phantastus Original – ’Dream Trance’
’It’s begun.’
Bermude, who knew what was coming, shot into the sky faster than anyone. The air was already thick and heavy with moisture. His clothes and hair were soaked through, and he felt the sensation of cutting through water rather than wind.
’I must prevent ’Dream Trance’ from fully manifesting.’
Bermude gestured in the air. As if the world itself was responding, a hundred magic circles unfolded. He loaded them with black magic, designated their targets, and calculated for any variables. Just as tens of thousands of brilliant streams of light were about to pour forth...
’Swoooooooooosh!’
The world turned a deep, suffocating blue. ’Blue Screen’. That’s what all the necromancers who fell victim to this technique called it.
Bermude quickly covered his mouth as a few drops of water trickled between his fingers. The hundred magic circles he had so painstakingly created vanished like salt dissolving in water.
’This is the first time I’m seeing it in person, but it’s unbelievable,’ he thought, a low sigh escaping his throat. ’A curse that materializes one’s own dream into reality.’
The world was submerged. Bermude cast a breathing spell on himself and stared into the depths. An ocean had been born, and that ocean now teemed with life. Horrifying creatures began to emerge from all corners of the sea: a swirling school of pitch-black fish, a stingray the size of a stadium, a jellyfish that discharged electric currents, a deep-sea fish with jagged, protruding teeth. They were bizarre monsters that lacked any discernible biological features, as if a child had scribbled them onto a blank canvas with a crayon.
They made no sound. They merely stared at Bermude from the darkness with ten thousand glowing eyes.
’Monsters that cannot exist.’
A myriad of demons surged toward him, churning up a storm of bubbles.
’This is his world. The only way for me to win in his world is...’ Bermude’s body glowed red-hot, like metal in a furnace. ’to construct my own world within it.’
A volcano of power erupted from his entire being, spewing lava. A sun rose in the heart of the black sea, and the swarming fish vanished the instant they touched the intense heat.
’More painfully.’ Bermude’s eyes gleamed. ’Pain is my source!’
The red energy of his lava spread, consuming the blue sea. The monstrous fish were incinerated as soon as they were created. It was a clash of wills: Phantastus trying to drown his opponent in a dream versus Bermude trying to build his own domain within it—a battle between monsters that had long transcended the realm of mortals.
’According to the reports, the greatest weakness of ’Dream Trance’ is...’
Bermude raised his one remaining arm. His gaze fell upon Phantastus, who was sitting cross-legged on the ground below.
’...that he cannot move while dreaming.’
The largest magic circle Bermude had yet summoned unfolded before him.
’Bermude Original – Diabolos’
What emerged was a thin, red arm. The three-fingered limb of a demon reached for the meditating Phantastus. Whales and other grotesque creatures tried to block its path, but ’Diabolos’ was not a spell that could be deflected. The demon’s arm destroyed the creatures simply by touching them. Simon and Serne swung their weapons and launched feathers, but it was useless.
’Thud—!’
With a heavy impact, Phantastus was crushed beneath the demonic limb.
’Hmph.’ A smirk spread across Bermude’s face. "Hahahahahahaha!"
The surrounding sea began to dry up, the monstrous creatures turning to bone and dust. Just as Bermude was lost in his maniacal laughter...
He felt a sharp pain in his own body—the sensation of a blade piercing his skin, cutting through muscle, and parting blood. Even covered in lava, he recognized the new agony. The moment all his senses focused on that pain, the world twisted and changed. A white greatsword, radiating an aura of death, was sliding along his shoulder, heading for his neck.
Bermude barely managed to twist away. The one who had ambushed him was Simon, borne aloft by wings crafted from Serne’s feathers.
’Too shallow!’ Simon bit his lip.
Bermude instantly forged a sword of lava and swung it. Not to be outdone, Simon met the blow with the Greatsword of Ruin.
’Clang! Clang! Claaaaang!’
White and red trajectories clashed wildly, their impacts creating a deafening roar.
’Unbelievable.’ Bermude’s face contorted. When he came to his senses, he realized ’Dream Trance’ was still active, and the demon’s arm was striking the empty ground. Phantastus and Serne were a good distance away. The memory of killing him had been nothing but a dream.
’I... dozed off?’
He was drenched in lava exceeding two thousand degrees. Was it even possible for a human to feel sleepy under such conditions?
’Claaaaang!’
After a fierce clash in the center, the two simultaneously retreated.
"Serne!" Simon shouted.
A gleam flashed from the feather wings. Simon’s body left a white trail as it circled around, then instantly cut in from the right. Bermude focused, his eyes tracking the movement. He might be a fledgling, but a Legion Commander was still a Legion Commander. A moment of carelessness could be fatal. He dismissed the cumbersome lava sword and unfolded a large magic circle, aiming it at the approaching Simon.
But the stabbing pain came from his left arm, not his right.
’A feint!’
Bermude once again used the pain to escape the dream. Simon was swinging his sword from the left. Predicting the blade’s trajectory, Bermude twisted his body, letting the blow glance off.
’Is this human reaction speed?’ Simon was stunned. A Tower Master was a Tower Master, even in ruin. He wasn’t the leader of a faction for nothing.
Simon urgently brought the Greatsword of Ruin forward to block the lava Bermude spewed in a counterattack. "Ugh!"
The greatsword, having nullified the lava, turned a vivid green.
"I’m counting on you, Kal!" Simon roared, swinging the blade with all his might.
’Kal Original – Goblins and Ghouls’
Dozens of extremely venomous hounds made of green energy shot out from his blade. Bermude, who had deployed a barrier that only covered his front, quickly poured more Jet-Black into it, expanding it to envelop his entire body.
’Booooom!’
This time, the attack was direct. As the poison melted away the defensive magic circle, Simon soared into the air again.
"Haaaaaah!"
He then descended at high speed, bringing down the greatsword he had raised above his head.
’From above? Or...!’ Bermude, having loaded a counter-spell, had to make a choice.
Just then, he felt a pain in his waist.
’Behind!’
Lava shot from his left hand, incinerating the area behind him.
"Silly," Serne’s voice cooed.
The massive torrent of two-thousand-degree lava had only managed to burn a single feather stuck to his waist.
"How many times are you going to fall for it, Father?"
’Damn it!’ Serne had read him completely. He had been relying solely on his sense of pain. Bermude hastily threw his body to the side, but...
’Slaaaaaash!’
This time, it was a direct hit. The Greatsword of Ruin came down on Bermude’s one remaining arm, severing it completely.
"Aaaaaaaargh!"
Writhed in pain, Bermude ascended into the air, blood pouring from his two severed arms as he fled in the opposite direction of the descending Simon.
’I need to stall for more time.’ His arms were irrelevant, but he had no chance of winning here. The duration of the dungeon and ’Dream Trance’ had to be running out. He had to fight after getting outside.
"Ugh!"
Simon quickly gave chase, but Bermude was faster.
’If I can just break this technique, I can win.’ As Bermude gained altitude, the very fabric of the dungeon began to crack around him.
But in an instant...
’Clap!’
With the sound of a handclap, the world turned upside down.
"Did you have a good dream?" Phantastus’s voice echoed.
’Huh!’ Bermude realized he wasn’t flying toward the sky but falling toward the ground. The direction had been reversed. And right in front of him stood Phantastus. He was hurtling straight toward his opponent with no way to stop.
"There’s no escape now!" Phantastus lowered his stance, hands outstretched.
"All the better!" Bermude screamed. A magic circle formed on his body, and the demon’s arm shot out once again.
’Bermude Original – ’Diabolos’
He might as well use this power to kill his opponent here and now. Seeing Jet-Black coiling around Phantastus’s hand, Bermude declared, "Now that ’Dream Trance’ has been dispelled, ’Sleep’ won’t work on me!"
"There are many ways to put an opponent to sleep without a curse. And among them, the best is this!" Phantastus clenched his large palm into a fist, then launched himself into the air. "Sleeeeeeeep—!"
The demon’s arm descended toward him. Phantastus twisted his waist and threw a powerful punch.
"Punch!"
The demon’s arm snapped like a dry twig against Phantastus’s fist, which continued on to slam directly into Bermude’s face. The Tower Master’s features contorted before he was sent rocketing upward at the speed of light with a deafening roar. The shockwave was so powerful that all the nearby sand shot into the air, as if swapping the sky and the ground—a sight that would make any observer’s knees go weak.
"Hahahaha!" Phantastus laughed, clenching his boulder-sized fist. "Perfect—!!"
A single punch that induced a sleep with a one hundred percent success rate. Of course, it was a sleep from which one would never wake.
Watching from the sky, Simon let out a dumbfounded laugh. ’Seriously... why is that senior’s main weapon ’Sleep’?’
As the World of Sand dissipated, Simon’s group and Bermude returned to the ruins. Bermude was spread-eagled on the ground, his face a crushed ruin, his limbs bent at unnatural angles. The black magic that had sustained him had vanished.
"Tower Master Bermude Aindark," Phantastus said, walking up to the fallen man. Simon and Serne flanked him. "Do you have any last words?"
"H... Heh... Hehehe." Bermude turned his head to look at Serne. "I... shouldn’t... have taken... you... in..."
"When you use others, you should be prepared to be used yourself," Serne replied with a faint smile, waving her hand. "Goodbye, Father."
Her feathers descended upon the cooling body. "It was hell being your child."
One feather became a cloth, covering his face. Others bloomed into flowers, blanketing his body.
"Let’s never see each other again."
It was a fitting end for her. She turned her back and walked away. As they left the dungeon, the sun was fully rising.
Bermude Aindark’s life ended then and there. In truth, he had been a dead man walking ever since Future Simon pierced his abdomen. He had only been clinging to life through the power born from pain, likely hoping to capture Simon for the Union. But with Phantastus’s arrival, his plans had turned to dust.
Afterward, the barrier around the Ivory Tower’s headquarters lifted, and its people flooded in. They were enraged by the sight of the collapsed Tower of Time and the dead Bermude, but fortunately, a recovered Daniela Villenne gave his testimony.
"It was all the Tower Master’s plan." He activated a memory crystal he had obtained from the transfer center on the hundredth floor. "He intended to eliminate everyone involved—the guests, the students from Kizen, the Ivory Tower’s own, and even the guards and scholars of the Tower of Time."
The people of the Ivory Tower were furious to learn that their leader had been a puppet taking orders from the Union. Testimonies from other necromancers and guests followed, and the full extent of Bermude’s evil deeds came to light.
Soon after, as if on cue, agents from Kizen appeared, followed by investigators from the Dark Alliance. Simon and Serne were swept up in the investigation, their day a blur of questioning. Fortunately, Nephthys and the Ivory Tower sent a student representative, allowing the two to finally slip away.
They sat side by side on a park bench, gazing at the wreckage of the tower. After a moment of silence, Simon looked at her intently.
"I see you in a new light."
"...What about?" she asked, a sweet smile playing on her lips. "The fact that I helped Kizen fight Bermude?"
"That too, but..." Simon continued quietly, "especially the matter with Meirin."
Serne just smiled serenely.
"I’m sorry for misunderstanding you all this time. Sincerely."
Serne’s promise to make Meirin the Tower Master had nearly come true in the most tragic way possible. If Serne had sacrificed herself while undoing the ’Absolute Seal’, Meirin would have naturally become her successor. It was unexpected. He had always seen her as a tyrant who controlled people’s minds—lofty, prideful, selfish, and emotionally hollow.
But she was a person, too. Someone who could readily sacrifice herself for another. She had been given a golden opportunity to destroy Kizen, yet she had set aside her greatest ambition to protect someone.
"When we get back to school, I’ll take responsibility and clear up Meirin’s misunderstanding," Simon said. "If she finds out what you did, you two will be on good terms again."
"No." Serne shook her head. "Please don’t."
"W-Why?"
She slowly looked up at the sky. "I didn’t do it for a reward. I did it because I wanted to."
Simon’s expression hardened. "Are you saying it’s okay for Meirin to keep hating you like this?" It might be difficult for their relationship to return to what it was, but he couldn’t accept it remaining one of pure hatred.
"Then, a question," Serne said, crossing her legs, her voice calm. "What do you think will happen if Meirin learns the truth?"
"Well..."
"She’ll be mentally torn to shreds, won’t she? She’ll remember every single cruel thing she said to me and shudder every night. Would she even be able to look me in the eye? Could she still treat me casually and curse at me like before? I think it would become suffocatingly awkward instead."
"..."
"Most importantly, if Meirin learns the truth, her clear life goal of defeating me—the very reason she entered Kizen—will disappear." She shrugged. "I like how things are now. I like the Meirin who burns with the desire to defeat me, the Meirin on the verge of tears when she loses to me, the Meirin who curses me with her eyes, who nags me, whose face turns red. And..."
Serne slowly rested her head on Simon’s arm. He flinched and stiffened.
"I like the Meirin who flies into a rage when I act just a little too intimate with you."
Simon let out a long sigh. Serne’s sacrifice had been her own unilateral decision. It was a noble act, but at the same time, it was a twisted form of affection. Knowing Meirin, she would have preferred Serne to tell her the truth so they could find a solution together. She would have been furious, demanding to know why Serne hadn’t told her, asking if she thought such a sacrifice would make her happy. And it was true that Serne’s words and actions had inflicted irreparable wounds on Meirin.
’I like how things are now.’ Serne’s words held many meanings.
"Alright. I’ll do as you say."
"Thank you."
"So..." Simon’s lips trembled with hesitation before he spoke in a pleading tone. "We can... still go to school together, right?"
Silence fell. Simon watched her, tense with anticipation. Serne, still leaning on his shoulder, looked up at him for a moment before lowering her eyelids.
"...That might be a little difficult."
The Tower Master, Bermude, was dead. The next in line was her. She was the Tower Master now.

Comments

Loading...