A Few Days Later — Mage Tower
Within a pocket of space carved open by Merlin, Aphelia stood on a desolate plain. Piles of bones rose like bleached dunes under her boots. Faceless soldiers charged from every angle, and behind them, mages raised their staves high as Arcane Power rippled through the air like storm-tossed waves.
Eyes closed, she stood atop the ossuary like a lone pine in winter. Blood speckled her silver-white armor; even her hair was matted with dark clots. Yet her breath stayed steady, as if the chaos around her belonged to a distant dream.
In her hand, the Crystal Blossoms stayed shut, a jewel-laden bud refusing the world. Pure-white threads spilled from its roots, coiling around her like silk, shedding a faint light, two quiet wings that wrapped Aphelia in a hush.
Countless massive spell arrays descended from the sky, locking onto her stack of bones with the weight of judgment. Elements gathered in midair like thunderheads, and before the arrays even released their power, an elemental flood roared forward to drown the world.
Blades flashed. Arrows hissed. Grand arrays ignited.
They crashed down in one breath. Blinding light filled the space, and for one long heartbeat, everything lost itself, like a ship swallowed by fog.
“It’s astonishing every time… Master Merlin, what is this power?” On the Mage Tower’s observation deck, Violet watched the silent space with Merlin at her side, praise slipping out with her wonder.
Merlin didn’t answer at once. He only gave a small shake of his head and gazed into that still, pure white, as if waiting for a sign to break the calm.
Soon, the flood of white faded. Soldiers and mages who had rushed at Aphelia were gone, as if erased by a tide. Even the bones beneath her vanished. Aphelia herself collapsed, gasping, breath scraping like wind through reeds.
“Failure. Still failure. Aphelia, I’ll have the Tower Spirit bring you out shortly. Use the time to recall which step went wrong.” Merlin sighed at the sight of her, then severed the link to the array. He turned to the reagent bench, ready to mix a new draft.
“Wait, Master Merlin—why is it failure again? Didn’t she wipe everything away? Why—”
“Miss Violet… you still can’t view this from Aether’s perspective. As for wiping away… Aphelia didn’t erase anything. She merely redirected time.”
“Temporal redirection… isn’t that also part of time’s domain?”
Violet frowned, confusion creasing her brow. To her, temporal redirection was still time’s power. Why would Merlin call it failure?
Merlin’s expression sharpened; he turned, grave and precise. “They’re worlds apart.”
“Temporal redirection falls under time, yes, but it’s only basic interference. Picture time as a long river—Aphelia used Aether to raise a dam. She blocked the future result about to arrive, then steered the current of past history onto another course. But once she leaves, the river will break through and return to its old bed.”
“At that point, only Aphelia—who stepped out from the center of influence—won’t be caught. Everything else will have its timeline scrambled, a dead zone of disorder. Tell me, does that look like success to you?”
He said no more. Silver-white radiance seeped from his palms, sealing a prepared vial as he focused on delicate adjustments, the way a craftsman polishes jade under moonlight.
Seeing his absorbed state, Violet held back. She drifted to the side, replaying Aphelia’s trials and tracing the thread of every misstep that led to failure.
To say what Aphelia had done, you had to start on the second day after the Demon King’s judgment.
With her newly awakened power, Aphelia struck without restraint, and all the great factions took notice like hawks spotting a spark in dry grass. To avoid mishap, once she returned to the Mage Tower, Merlin laid out a method to develop her power—patching the brutal flaw in Ouroboros’s Aether bombardment with craft and care.
But this development itself stumbled.
Because this power advanced from Aphelia’s Titleholder strength, if she fully cultivated it, she would forge her own domain and become an unassailable True God.
Merlin’s method was clear, and her grasp of Aether was flawless. In truth, her talent made even Merlin click his tongue in wonder.
Since the power touched time, they advanced toward time’s domain.
Yet during development, it was as if a thin veil lay over truth. She knew lifting it would reveal the real horizon, but she couldn’t cross that last step. In just a few days, she failed again and again, drops of frost on the same cold window.
Each experiment, Aphelia put herself into a crafted dead end, begging Merlin to prepare a lethal scenario. He cut off her Aether sense, forcing her to press the Aether within to the limit, to derive the Crystal Blossoms and raise her power like a flame fed with breath.
That’s why, the moment her power fully activated, she collapsed, drained, with no strength left for a second chance.
While Violet thought this over, the Tower Spirit guided Aphelia onto the observation deck. Freed from that sealed space, Aphelia’s pallor lifted at once. She thanked the Tower Spirit softly, then moved to Violet’s side.
“Sorry, Aphelia. I’m only a Titleholder. There’s not much I can do…”
“What’s there to be sorry for? This isn’t something anyone else can fix. More important—how’s your recovery?” Aphelia’s laugh carried a teasing warmth. She ruffled Violet’s hair, turning her cheeks the color of evening clouds. Violet batted her hand away, a quick, flustered scold.
“Honestly… can you mind your image a little?”
“I do mind it. Very carefully.”
…
Their soft banter had barely begun when Merlin’s patience snapped. He tossed the vial to Aphelia and spoke, irritable as a thunderhead ready to break.
“Aphelia, I’ve opened partial access to the Mage Tower’s spaces for you. Take Miss Violet and look around. I need to brew another draught to stabilize your condition.”
“Since a new power has emerged, we must be ready before we seek the World Will.”
A portal wrought from silver light bloomed and swept Aphelia and Violet away. Before Aphelia could blink, they stood in a vast library; her stunned expression lingered like a dropped bookmark.
“Was that… one of his rare outbursts?” Aphelia gave a wry smile. Even after awakening new power, she’d clearly lost the sense of urgency.
Violet turned her face aside, awkward, and plucked a timeworn tome from a shelf. She flipped it without seeing, pages whispering like leaves.
Back on the observation deck, Merlin adjusted the vial in silence. The silver glow in his hands faltered; sweat beaded on his brow like dew before dawn. The Tower Spirit drifted close, ready to stop him.
“Merlin, keep this up and you’ll be the first to fall.”
“I know. Of course I know!” Like a spark catching dry tinder, he flung the vial aside and slammed the table, voice breaking into a raw shout.
“But… time’s too tight. If we could delay just a little, find the World Will, learn the truth—everything should work…”
He caught himself, sagging against the bench, sliding to the floor, dodging the Tower Spirit’s gaze with a weary exhale.
The Tower Spirit hovered at his side, listening, a quiet moon over a troubled lake.
“How many epochs has this stretched across? One, two, ten? Who still remembers? We’re always just a step away, always ambushed by some accident. And this time—she awakened early…”
“This time, I can feel the whole world speeding up.”
The more he spoke, the tighter his fists clenched. Nails cut skin; blood welled unnoticed. The Merlin known for cool composure now looked like a man at the edge, eyes shot with red like a burnt horizon.
“Merlin, I understand. I want this to succeed as much as you do.” The Tower Spirit breathed out softly and stilled him with a raised hand. Pale light streamed from her palms, knitting his wounds like rain restoring spring moss.
“Don’t let accidents cloud your mind. Before she wakes, you’re the last line. I know this came too suddenly—both joy and fear in one stroke.”
“But you cannot fall. If you do, everything ends early.”
When the light faded, she drew him into a gentle embrace. Merlin leaned into her, lowering his face, as if unwilling to let his weakness see the sun.
Tenderness filled the Tower Spirit’s gaze. She looked at the bowed Merlin and hummed a song no one knew, soft and melodious, like night wind over water.
