Charles' body was suddenly enveloped in a gray aura, causing him to disappear from the inner room of the Hybrid Tavern.
Olivia's countenance betrayed her disappointment as she observed his sudden disappearance.
Her perception of the situation had been mistaken, as she believed she had nearly brought Charles to the peak of pleasure, envisioning it as a potential catalyst for elevating her status and altering her destiny from a mere Novice Talent to the coveted position of the woman chosen by The Supreme Leader of the Nightmare Brigade.
Regrettably, it became evident that her assumptions were far from the truth. Her actions had only elicited a mild response from Charles—an erection—leaving her yearning for more, but unfortunately for her that was all she could achieve.
Even if she had achieved what she intended, she knew that she couldn't replace Jasmine in Charles' heart. It was evident that Jasmine was irreplaceable to him.
Now, let us shift our attention from the extra and direct our gaze towards the core of our narrative, where the principal characters come to the forefront.
Our focus now turns to Charles, as he materializes within a magnificent and vast chamber, setting the stage for the unfolding events.
A profound sense of astonishment washed over his face, the lines of his features contorting with surprise. This was no ordinary location; it was his secret base, a place he knew intimately.
What truly startled him, however, was the realization that someone had managed to uncover its existence. The magnitude of this discovery both shocked and intrigued him.
Yet, as quickly as the surprise had overtaken him, it dissipated, replaced by a newfound understanding. Charles comprehended the remarkable capability possessed by the individual who had brought him to his secret haven.
Deep within the confines of this secret base, concealed even from the piercing gaze of the Monarch of the Nightmare Brigade, Charles shared a connection with the man he was about to encounter.
This mysterious individual had a profound familiarity with Charles, much like the hidden recesses of his sanctuary.
In a swift, almost magical motion, the air seemed to come alive with a resounding "whoosh."
And there, before Charles, stood the very person he had anticipated. The man's appearance, however, differed slightly from the mental image that had formed in Charles' mind.
Instead of his customary haori, he now adorned a cloak, its fabric billowing gently in an ethereal dance. The addition of thin facial hair framed his countenance, lending an air of enigmatic sophistication.
Remarkably, he grasped a gourd in his hand, a departure from his usual indulgence in a playful magazine filled with images of nude women.
Despite retaining his usual playful demeanor, Charles' close observation revealed a subtle air of burden surrounding the man, as if the weight of the world rested upon his shoulders.
This resonated with Charles, for he too had experienced the loss of his world a decade ago.
However, amidst the man's despondency, Charles discerned a glimmer of hope in his eyes—a flicker suggesting that he might have something worth returning to.
In a sudden moment of clarity, Charles felt a profound connection as the image of his daughter materialized in his mind's eye.
He vividly recalled her vibrant red hair, a striking departure from her previous brown hair, the cause of which remained unknown to him.
Although it had been some time since Charles had last encountered the man, he couldn't shake the lasting impact he had made, defying expectations with his lighthearted nature.
In the brief span of their meeting, he managed to jolt Charles's entire being, reminding him that he hadn't entirely lost his world.
Despite its diminutive scale—quite literally, considering his daughter's youth—he realized the importance of cherishing the things he still possessed.
This deduction became unmistakable when his daughter's memory resurfaced, triggering a poignant recollection of his lost world.
As if to dispel the weighty atmosphere brought about by Charles' introspective musings and the accompanying tinge of regret, Magnus let out a light-hearted chuckle.
As his jet-black hair billowed dramatically in the wind, it only accentuated the contagious sense of exhilaration permeating the surroundings.
Charles couldn't help but shake his head, noting the remarkable transformation in the once somber surroundings solely attributed to Magnus' arrival.
Before Magnus could express his intentions, Charles swiftly interjected, uttering, "Let's go outside."
With a graceful levitation, Charles floated effortlessly through the air, leading the way as they emerged from the depths of the underground.
Ascending to the uppermost floor, they reached a balcony, where they settled comfortably on the ledge.
Charles cut straight to the chase, his voice void of any emotion, as he asked, "What is it that you desire?"
Magnus let out a weary sigh, feeling a mixture of nostalgia and disappointment at the unchanged demeanor of his former partner in assassination missions.
He shook his head in disbelief and lifted his hands in a dramatic gesture, remarking, "Ah, to think that even after all these years, you still possess such an icy reception. I had hoped for a warmer welcome."
Charles remained cold and indifferent as Magnus continued to speak, his voice laced with a jovial and lighthearted tone, brimming with nostalgia.
"Remember when we were mere novices, honing our skills in those opposing magic academies?" Magnus asked a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. "You were all fire and precision, while I reveled in the chaos."
Charles's expression remained stoic, but a faint flicker of recognition crossed his face. He reluctantly nodded, acknowledging the shared past that had once brought them together.
"And then, fate intervened," Magnus continued, his voice tinged with excitement.
"The Void Desolation era, the war between humans and the Abyssal race. Our skills were sought after by both sides, but we chose a different path. We became assassins, slipping through the shadows, striking with lethal efficiency."
Charles's gaze hardened, his memories of that time buried deep within him.
The weight of the choices they had made and the darkness they had embraced still haunted him, even in the present moment.
Magnus, undeterred by Charles's detached demeanor, chuckled.
"Ah, the adventures we had, the enemies we faced together. Remember that time we infiltrated the Abyssal stronghold? Your fire spells rampaged their defenses while my spatial interference masked our presence. It was a dance of danger, but we emerged victorious!"
A faint glimmer of a smile danced across Charles's lips, swiftly vanishing as if it had never been there. He couldn't deny the efficacy of their partnership, even if he refused to indulge in sentimentality.
"Those were different times, Magnus," Charles replied curtly, his voice devoid of emotion. "We had a common purpose, but that purpose is long gone. What brings you here now?"
Magnus's cheerful demeanor faltered momentarily, but he quickly recovered, his smile unwavering.
"Ah, my friend, always straight to the point! I've heard whispers of a new threat emerging and a few people betraying the human race. I thought it fitting to pay a visit and extend an invitation to reignite our formidable partnership to quickly exterminate them."
Charles's gaze narrowed, his detachment resurfacing with a renewed fervor. "I am now a solitary entity. The past is a relic of a time long gone, and our paths have diverged, Magnus. Let it remain buried."
Magnus' jovial expression faded, replaced by a hint of disappointment.
The air between them grew heavy with unspoken words and unresolved emotions as they acknowledged the lingering echoes of their shared history.
"Indeed, our paths have taken separate courses, and I understand the necessity of burying what has died," Magnus replied, his voice tinged with a pause, before continuing, "Yet, don't you believe the same principle applies to Jasmine?"
At that moment, Charles's usual detached demeanor melted away, giving way to a profound frown etched deeply onto his face.
The aura surrounding him seemed to radiate with an intense heat, as small golden flames flickered around his body, magnifying the anger he felt in that very instant.
"Keep her name far from your lips," Charles retorted in a frigid tone, his words laced with a loss of all reasonability, ignited by the mere mention of Jasmine's name.
"It's truly disheartening that things had to end this way, even though I saw it coming. Despite that, I held onto the hope that my presence would have swayed you from pursuing your intentions.
But a man who has lost love will go to great lengths to regain it... Even if that man happens to be the notorious "Blazing Fiend" Charles.
Considering all that has transpired in our entire lives, I am in no position to dictate what is right or wrong, for I am uncertain of the distinction.
But I am not fighting for what is right or wrong, but I know that I am on the right side. I had hoped that you would have stood by me until the very end, even if the strength that had once fueled my past battles had diminished," Magnus spoke with a heavy sigh, shaking his head in resignation.
"I understand," Charles nodded as if reaching a definitive resolution. Retrieving his Holophone from his pocket, he deftly navigated its interface, his fingers tapping on an emergency alert button with purpose.
This particular button held a unique power—it would summon a formidable force of 1000 armed death guards, solely under Charles's command, operating independently from the influence of the Monarch of the Nightmare Brigade.
To his astonishment, the usual ten-second interval required for their arrival had elapsed, and Charles comprehended the significance of this occurrence.
An unexpected chuckle escaped his lips, momentarily overriding the anger he had been feeling, as a flood of memories surged forth—recollections of moments shared with his partner, someone who might have been his closest and only true friend.
Shaking his head in a mixture of disbelief and exasperation, Charles waved his hand, causing a shimmering spear to materialize in his grasp.
With a wry smile tugging at the corner of his lips, he addressed Magnus, his voice tinged with a mixture of amusement and admiration.
"After all these years, it appears I had forgotten about your beloved spatial skill—the one you often employed to surreptitiously observe girls in the academy.
To think you have honed it to such an extraordinary degree. Sometimes, I can't help but feel a twinge of envy at the remarkable extension of your Altered Psyche ability."
A nostalgic smile played upon Magnus's lips as he acknowledged Charles's recollection.
"Ah, so you do remember. Old habits die hard, and what can a man facing his mortality do but savor life to the fullest?"
His voice carried a tinge of nostalgia as he meticulously wiped the blade of his cleaver knife—a Spatial Celestial Edge.
"Sometimes it slips my mind that you were supposed to depart this world a while ago, yet you always manage to cling on to life. Well, I guess this will be the end of the line for you..." Charles began speaking, his words laced with a mix of confidence and hints of reluctance, but his sentence was abruptly cut short as his decapitated head fell in his hands, his voice trailing off.
"Spatial Veil," Magnus said as a gray aura that surrounded the base earlier receded as the corpses of all the thousand death guards were revealed.
A spurt of blood escaped Magnus's mouth, not due to the grisly sight before him—he had witnessed countless horrors—but rather as a consequence of the familiar occurrence that stemmed from his unusual illness called Mana Flux Syndrome.
However, what further exacerbated his condition was the employment of a forbidden Magia skill, made possible by absorbing death energy from the fallen guards through his Altered Psyche.
Without resorting to such measures, the fight would not have ended so swiftly, and as a man with limited time, he had to employ his resources wisely, thus making the difficult choice.
As he wiped the blood from his lips, Magnus's gaze fell upon something that shattered his heart in an instant.
It was the tear-filled eyes of the red-haired girl, locked in a sorrowful gaze with her decapitated, golden-haired father, an image that pierced Magnus's soul with immeasurable pain.
Summoning his inner strength, Magnus plastered a lighthearted expression on his face, though his heart wept within.
Uncertain of the morality behind his actions, he couldn't deny the lasting scars he had inflicted upon the young girl, an experience he could somewhat relate to, having been absent for his own son's life for the most part.
At that moment, all he could hope for was that his smile, for reasons unbeknownst to him, would somehow provide solace to the girl.
Shaking his head, unsure of how to navigate this emotional turmoil, Magnus stepped into a portal, vanishing from sight as he ventured forth to aid another friend's son, who was currently being relentlessly pursued in a forest, his arm grievously injured.
From taking the life of a friend and robbing a child of complete parental love, to swiftly transitioning into the mission of helping another, Magnus couldn't help but wish for different circumstances that would spare him from making such agonizing decisions.
Meanwhile, Amber's tears flowed unabated as she mourned the untimely demise of her father. Knox, her attendant, attempted to console her, but his voice fell on deaf ears as wisps of faint fiery energy flickered around her.
As she delved deeper into the depths of her sorrow, a previously unknown emotion emerged within her.
This newfound emotion stood in stark contrast to the familiar joy she experienced while playing with Knox or reminiscing about the rare moments of laughter and playtime with her father.
It diverged from the sadness she felt during her father's unexplained absence for the past year, and the frustration that arose when Knox prevented her from interacting with the other children in the base.
No, this newfound emotion was something far more intense, permeating her heart with a potent blend of hatred and malice.
It unleashed within her an overwhelming desire to bring destruction and unleash violence—a dark and sinister urge that no ten-year-old should ever have to experience.
########
THREE YEARS LATER
In a quaint wooden house nestled beside a tranquil beach, a teenage girl emerged from its comforting embrace, seeking solace in the embrace of the open air.
This young woman was unmistakably Amber, whose life had been forever altered by the murderer of her father.
Together with Knox, she had found herself in an unfamiliar place, suspected to be situated at the far reaches of the Earth.
For three long years, Amber had endured a mundane existence, trapped in the clutches of a repetitive routine.
The sheer monotony of it all had nearly driven her to the brink of despair.
However, the presence of Knox's spirited children, Zane and Zoey, who had joined their company later on, injected a modicum of excitement into their otherwise dreary surroundings.
Furthermore, her training sessions with the hammer and metal ore provided a welcome respite from the tedium.
However, certain elements always managed to spoil the fun, such as Knox's paternalistic voice, persistently issuing commands even as he addressed her as "Miss Amber."
The most significant hindrance, though, came from the haunting voice that had plagued her thoughts for the past year—a voice determined to unleash chaos upon her emotions and decisions, relentlessly forcing her to confront a painful memory she had desperately tried to bury long ago.
As she twirled the metal cube, adorned with mysterious symbols, in her hand - a precious artifact crafting equipment left by her mother and the sole birthday gift from her father - Amber felt a wave of turmoil wash over her.
Despite the three long years that had passed since her father's demise, she remained undecided on how to feel, a stark contrast to the overwhelming grief that had consumed her upon discovering his lifeless body three years ago.
And the mere presence of the metal cube, an object that held a deep sentimental value, only served to exacerbate her inner chaos, leaving her unsure of how to reconcile the conflicting emotions within her regarding her past.