March tilted his head, his cheeky, casual tone cutting through the tension like a blade. "May I join you?"
...
Lucian was on guard, but instead of immediate fighting, March asked to sit.
He replied, "Suit yourself." As he glared at March with hostility.
March giggled as he put down his hat at the table, "Don't glare at me like that. Let's have a talk, shall we? I know you have a lot of questions." He pauses and looks outside using the hole at the wall. "Lets have this, We throw each other questions one by one." then look at Lucian.
Noticing that Lucian shows no other than hostility but with a hint of agreement. He said, "Let's start with an easy one. What's your name?"
"Lucian. Lucian Eureka." He returned a question, "Where are we?"
March put his elbow on the table, and used his palm to rest his head. His eyes smiled, 'Quite straightforward huh?"
"Well, I know you and Everett already know that you were inside an artifact, and already left the first stage of it."
"Then of course, you were inside the second stage of it. If you're curious about how we are also inside, it is because the second stage requires two opposition parties to activate. The moment you entered that small and tight hallway, the first requirements had been met."
"The moment you leave the first stage, the second requirement is met. The second stage has been set. And now, the second stage or you can say the artifacts require that one of the parties be eliminated so that it can become its fertilizer. So that means, your first suspicion was correct. You are in fact inside a living artifact, but not a labyrinth."
"My turn," March's face turned more serious as he looked at Lucian. "How is it that we're not able to sense your presence? Even he can't sense you."
Lucian was revolted by the sudden change of mood, "Why should I tell you?"
"Because if you won't, I'll kill every single part of your family." March as he provoked him.
Lucain gave a mocking smile, "they can't even compare to you! You're just an insect in their pressence."
March frowned, a low growl of irritation vibrating in his throat. "So you're telling me—that they're stronger than me?"
The air around the fire mage began to shimmer, the temperature rising as his emotions flared. True to his mother's warnings, the fire within him was a volatile thing—easily provoked and nearly impossible to tame once ignited. Lucian, sensing the fraying edges of March's control, only widened his smirk. He leaned in, his voice a calculated needle. "Of course. You can't even reach their level. Not even in this lifetime."
March's expression went cold, though his eyes burned with a dangerous, orange light. "If you don't want to tell me, I'll just take it from you forcefully. That's not what you want—right?"
"Try me," Lucian giggled, the sound airy and mocking. "Maybe, and maybe not. I'm strong, you know?"
"Stronger than me?" March snapped, the floorboards beneath his boots beginning to char.
Lucian's smile stretched even wider, sharp and haunting. "Stronger than your god."
With those words, March's restraint finally snapped.
The air didn't just break; it shattered. First came a deafening, high-pitched crack. The sound of reality splintering under the pressure of concentrated mana. Followed instantly by a gut-wrenching, bass-heavy roar that vibrated through the very marrow of Lucian's bones. A violent eruption tore through the floor, a thundering boom that turned the abandoned shelter into a whirlwind of splintering wood and screaming metal.
Lucian reacted instantly. He cast Blink, his form flickering into a streak of light as he vanished. He reappeared ten meters away, only to immediately cast it a second time to clear the blast radius. The double-cast was taxing, he felt a sharp, hollow ache in his chest as a massive portion of his mana drained away but he didn't stop there.
As the shockwave reached him, he whispered his mother's signature Ice spell: Butterfly Moment.
Suddenly, the air temperature plummeted. Translucent, frost-rimed wings—vast enough to shroud his entire body—erupted from his back in a flurry of crystalline snow. The frozen barrier of Phersephonny Eureka's magic wrapped around him like an indestructible cocoon, the ice glowing with a pale, wintry light. For five seconds, the roaring flames of the explosion could only hiss and steam against the frost, unable to touch him.
When Lucian finally reached the perimeter of the blast,the untouchable boundary where the shockwave began to dissipate. He turned around.
The explosion was still in full effect. A roaring vortex of flame and pressure continued to swallow the ruins of the abandoned house, sending jagged debris spiraling into the air like lethal shrapnel. Beyond the house, the surrounding sandstorm had been transformed; the intense heat from March's released energy was so fierce that it began to scorch the very sand in the air, turning the storm into a swirling, incandescent haze of fire and dust.
Without thinking much, his only instinct to survive, Lucian immediately sought cover.
He didn't have the mana left for another grand spell, but he didn't need it. With the help of the howling sandstorm and the chaotic, jagged mana still vibrating in the air from the explosion, he effectively vanished. The swirling grit and the lingering magical static acted as a perfect veil, completely hiding his presence as he slipped into the shadows of the storm.
…
In the land of endless ravines—where the wind is thicker and faster than a physical blow—Everett had a choice. His compass flickered between North and South; he chose North, pushing directly against the gale where the wind moved away from his destination.
The wind howled, a relentless pull that would have swept a lesser man off the cliffs, but Everett remained immovable. His large, weighted frame acted as an anchor against the storm.
Suddenly, a blast of invisible force struck the earth directly in front of him. With lightning-fast reflexes, Everett stepped back—just as a small crater, as wide as his own footprint, gouged itself into the stone.
The wind grew sharper. Everett's instincts screamed; he sensed something massive descending. He looked up, and there, the sky itself seemed to fracture—a countless array of distorted spaces rippling against the clouds.
With the survival instincts of a veteran adventurer, he didn't hesitate. He lunged forward.
"SWOOSH!"
Those distorted pockets of space fell in a heartbeat, piercing the ground like obsidian asteroids. They tore into the earth, leaving a trail of jagged craters that hungrily chased Everett's heels.
"CRUMP!"
Relying on decades of battle experience, Everett gripped the hilt of his greatsword. He swung the massive blade in a sweeping arc from front to back—the air screaming as the metal was forced through the wind—to reflect a projectile that was inches from his chest.
"CLANG!"
The impact vibrated up his arms, but he held his ground. As he pivoted to face the source of the attack, the remaining projectiles suddenly froze mid-air, suspended by an unseen will. Everett, his chest heaving as he panted for breath, shielded his eyes and looked up.
There, silhouetted against the center of the massive sun, was a small figure. Realization dawned on Everett as he watched the distortions shimmer.
"So that distorted space... it was just a thick wind," he muttered, his voice ragged but steady. "Wind with enough mass to shatter stone because the currents are packed so tight." He pu down his greatsword vertically, penetrating through the floor and narrowed his eyes at the figure above. "General Roland."