In the afternoon of Sharpoon City, Grimar stands motionless in front of the ruined higher-ups' building. The air is heavy with anticipation. He glanced up at the crumbling facade and muttered to himself, "Everything has led to this. All the trails converge here. But it doesn't even look like anyone's lived in this place for years." He paused, his gaze sharpening. "Still, it should be enough to draw their attention."
As if on cue, a dozen assassins emerged from the surrounding shadows, their presence silent but menacing. One among them, wearing a distinctive mask, stepped forward and spoke in a cold tone. "We know you've taken the son of Dober. Where is he?"
Grimar's hand moved to his side, drawing his magic gun with deliberate precision. The sight of the weapon made the assassins hesitate, their hands instinctively reaching for their weapons. Grimar smirked. "I think it's time to end this," he said, his voice steady. "If you want the kid, tell your leaders to come out. All of them. Then, and only then, will I reveal his location."
The masked assassin studied Grimar for a moment before responding. "Very well." He raised his hands, casting a spell.
The broken building began to shift and shimmer as an illusion fell away. What had appeared abandoned was revealed to be intact and teeming with life. Grimar scowled, muttering under his breath, "This is why I hate magic... illusion magic."
As the spell dissolved, the grand structure stood restored, its ornate facade gleaming. The building's large doors opened, and Baso, flanked by the other leaders of the higher-ups, descended the steps with an air of superiority.
"You've got what you wanted, Magic Slayer," Baso said, his tone dripping with disdain. "Now, tell us—where is the boy?"
Grimar reached into his pocket and pulled out a folded paper, which he fashioned into a bird with a flick of his fingers. With a quick toss, the paper bird soared through the air and landed in Baso's outstretched hand.
Baso unfolded it, revealing a set of coordinates. His eyes narrowed as he read them. Without hesitation, he barked an order, "You, take a team and head to this location!"
A group of assassins immediately breaks off, vanishing into the shadows to follow Baso's command. Grimar watched them go, his expression unreadable, as the final confrontation loomed closer.
Grimar scanned the area, his sharp eyes counting only about fifteen assassins and the other leaders standing before him. A wry smile crept across his face. "Looks like your army has shrunk considerably," he said with a mocking tone.
Baso stepped forward, his expression dark. With a deliberate motion, he unbuttoned his coat, revealing a scarred gunshot wound on his chest. "This," Baso growled, "is the mark you left on me that night. You stripped us of our powers, tried to make us weak. But you underestimated one thing—the loyalty of the system!"
Grimar's gaze didn't waver as Baso continued, his voice brimming with fury. "We dug into your past, Magic Slayer. Every step you took in Nemura City, every whisper about your attempts to contact Overlord Dober—we uncovered it all. And we found something even more damning."
Baso's lips curled into a sinister grin as he clapped his hands. One of the leaders stepped forward, holding a jar. Inside it floated the severed head of Heimer, his face eerily preserved.
Grimar's expression remained stone-cold, his resolve unshaken.
Baso sneered, holding the jar higher. "The great scientist, Heimer—your first pearl source. His location was nearly impossible to discover, but time is on our side. Eventually, we found him. Killing him was step one." He paused, relishing the moment. "Step two? Eliminate the son of Dober. And then, finally, we'll end you—for the sake of the system."
Grimar's eyes narrowed as he calmly responded, his voice unwavering. "Information always leaks. And the system will always find a way to cling to it."
He puts away his magic gun on his side. " In this final stand, I'll like to fight with the honor of an assassin."
With that, Grimar unsheathed a gleaming short blade and loaded his arm crossbow. The deadly weapons glinted in the afternoon light, a testament to his resolve.
Baso raised his arm, his voice ringing out like a death knell. "Kill him!"
The fifteen assassins surged forward, blades drawn and spells igniting. Grimar doesn't flinch as he charges straight into the fray, meeting them head-on, his movements precise and deadly, a true master of his craft.
The group of assassins arrived at the designated location, their eyes locking on a solitary platform floating in the middle of a serene lake. Atop the platform stood Nhia, his face pale with fear.
"Please," Nhia called out, his voice trembling as they approached. "I don't want to die!"
The assassins exchanged knowing looks before stepping onto the water, their magic allowing them to walk across its surface effortlessly. As they closed in, their blades gleamed in the sunlight, ready to strike.
Without hesitation, they rushed forward, their swords slicing through Nhia's body. But instead of flesh and blood, his form shimmered and distorted, breaking apart into glowing digital pixels.
"What is this?" one of the assassins growled, his voice filled with confusion. Another stepped forward, slashing the platform in frustration. The structure groaned under the impact, revealing the truth—a cleverly disguised machine.
"It's a trick!" one of them shouted, realization dawning too late.
Before they could react further, the platform began to hum ominously. Lights flared, and an instant later, a deafening explosion tore through the air, engulfing the assassins in a fiery blast. The lake's surface rippled violently as the shockwave spread, leaving nothing but smoke and scorched debris.
Back at Grimar's base, Nhia let out a victorious cheer as he watched the platform explosion unfold on the screen. "Got them!" he exclaimed, pumping his fist in the air. His eyes then darted to another screen displaying the ongoing battle in Sharpoon City. His expression grew tense as he saw Grimar, bloodied and battered, standing amidst the aftermath of his hard-fought battle.
Grimar wiped the blood from his lip, steadying himself as he faced Baso and the remaining leaders. His voice, hoarse but resolute, echoed through the battlefield. "This is it... This is for Charlie. He should've lived a simple life, a perfect life, as a farmer. But you—" he spat the words, his eyes blazing with fury, "—you all had to ruin it."
Baso, unfazed by the accusation, stepped forward with a smug grin. "Before we fight," he began, his tone dripping with confidence, "I must say, we've learned a lot from you, Grimar. Your tactics, your strategies. That location you gave us... it must had been a distraction, wasn't it? But what you didn't know," he said, leaning slightly forward, "is that when Loris first met the son of Dober, he placed a magic tracker on him. By now, our people should already be at your base."
Grimar's eyes widened momentarily, a flicker of surprise betraying his calm exterior. Then, a sly smirk crept onto his face. "So what?" he said coldly. "Even if he does die, you won't regain your powers."
Baso's confused, his confidence shaken. "What do you mean?" he demanded.
Grimar's voice was low but deliberate. "Heimer would never be that careless. He's the greatest scientist this world has ever seen. He always has a back up plan. The head in that jar?" He chuckled darkly. "Just an empty vessel. A decoy. Tell me, Baso—when your people killed him, did they recover the pearl?"
Baso's face paled as the realization hit him. His silence was enough to confirm Grimar's suspicions. The truth was a bitter blow, and his anger boiled over. "Enough of this!" he roared, drawing his weapon.
The other leaders followed suit, their faces contorted with rage and frustration. Weapons gleamed as they prepared to finish what they had started.
Grimar, steadying himself despite his injuries, gripped his short blade and arm crossbow. "Come on, then," he growled, his eyes sharp and unwavering. "Let's end this."
The final clash began, steel meeting steel, and blood spilled as the battle raged on. Meanwhile, Nhia watched from the base, his celebration turning to concern as the brutal fight played out before his eyes.
Nhia, still watching the chaotic battle on the screen, muttered to himself, "I wish I could hear what they're saying..." His words were abruptly cut off as a sharp, searing pain struck him from behind. A glowing magic spike tore through the room, slamming him against the wall. He cried out in agony, clutching his shoulder, blood staining his fingers.
Struggling to focus through the pain, Nhia sees three figures entering the room, their presence like shadows swallowing the light. At the forefront is Loris, his expression cold and merciless. "For my father... for the system," Loris said, his voice echoing with fury.
He throws another magic spike towards him, the air hissing as it closed the distance. Acting on instinct, Nhia summons his magic book, its golden pages flickering as he teleported outside the base.
He reappeared in the forest, stumbling through the underbrush, his wounded shoulder screaming in protest with every step. "How did they find out where I was?" he gasped, his breath ragged as his mind raced.
Behind him, Loris and his assassins gave chase, their movements quick and relentless. Loris spotted him and hurled a volley of magic spikes. The air crackled as Nhia darted between the trees, barely avoiding the projectiles. One grazed his side, tearing through his shirt and drawing blood.
Nhia dove behind a tree for cover, his heart pounding. The sound of footsteps made the hairs on his neck stand on end. An assassin landed in front of him with a deadly grace, blade raised to strike. Nhia froze, panic gripping him. Kiren... he thought desperately, imagining his friend appearing to save him.
As the assassin's blade came down, a shimmering magic shield materialized in Nhia's hand. His eyes widened in shock as he instinctively raised it to block the strike. The shield absorbed the blow, glowing with a radiant energy before releasing a magic pulse that sent the assassin flying into a tree. The impact was deafening, and the assassin slumped to the ground, motionless.
The shield flickered out of existence, leaving Nhia standing in stunned silence. "What just...?" he murmured before shaking himself out of it. He turned and ran, his mind racing with fragments of memories.
While sprinting through the forest, Nhia opened his book, his eyes scanning the glowing text. "Getting to level 4 on a spell will allow the user to gain it's passive skill which allows the user to use 1/8 of its power whenever the user is in desperate need, but this will only last as long as the user's magic sustains it."
Realization struck him like lightning. All this time... that's how my power works. He pieced it together: Shawn's power, has been in the book for a long time, that it must had been upgraded to level 4 after so many years of use. Memories surged through him—the spell he must have unconsciously cast during the war in Nemura City that created the magic phone to talk to Jasee, the magic phone's long lifespan sustained by their combined magic, and the countless times his powers had saved him without his understanding.
He recalled the time his magic phone was absorbed to rebuild Robo Mall, the moment in Old Berry Town when his voice alone reached Kayla and Jean in their monstrous forms, pulling them back to their humanity. "It was all the book... all of it," Nhia whispered, awe and fear intertwining.
Suddenly, pain erupted across his back as another assassin's blade sliced into him. Nhia cried out, falling to his knees. Blood poured from the wound, soaking into the ground. He turned his head, seeing the assassin standing over him, blade dripping with his blood.
Nhia struggles to focus as he tries to imagine Kiren again. The magic shield briefly forms on his arm but quickly dissipates, his lack of control preventing him from sustaining it. Frustrated but determined, he casts Jasee's spell from the book once more, teleporting away. Breathing heavily, he mutters, "Jasee's spell drains so much magic... It's making me tired."
Staggering to his feet, Nhia reaches the chaotic streets of Sharpoon City. Suddenly, Loris finds him and hurls more magic spikes in his direction. Nhia sprints, barely evading the attacks, using nearby buildings and cars for cover. His heart pounds as the relentless barrage keeps him moving.
One of the pursuing assassins catches up, but before they can strike, the magic dober bursts from Nhia's chest, snarling and lunging at the attacker. The dober delivers a devastating bite, killing the assassin in an instant. Nhia, still running, glances back and mutters in awe, "There's still so much about my magic I don't understand..."
Loris, standing in the distance, yells with fury, "Stop running and fight me!" Nhia ignores the demand, darting between obstacles, but another magic spike hurtles toward him. The dober leaps in the way, absorbing the impact with a pained cry. Nhia watches in horror as the dober dissolves into shimmering magic dust, retreating back into his chest.
His shock is short-lived as another magic spike races straight for his face, closing the distance in an instant. Nhia freezes, the glowing projectile inches from him.
As the deadly magic spike inches toward his eye, Nhia recalls Simbad's words about the basics of magic control: "Every magic user can focus their magic on a part of their body to create an aura, boosting power in that area." Nhia takes a deep breath, concentrating all his energy into his hand. A glowing magic aura forms, radiating with raw energy. Just as the spike is about to strike, Nhia reaches out and catches it, the spike dissipating into harmless sparks.
Loris lands nearby, "Impressive. You're finally starting to grasp the basics of magic control. But it's too late for that—you're going to die right here." Loris charges, wielding a glowing magic spike with deadly precision.
Nhia braces himself, channeling the magic aura into his hand. He blocks strike after strike as Loris unleashes a relentless barrage of attacks. Sparks and magic energy fly as their battle intensifies. However, Loris feints an attack, catching Nhia off guard as he attacks again. The blade of energy slices across Nhia's chest, and he stumbles back, blood soaking his shirt as he collapses to the ground.
Lying there, Nhia's mind drifts to the final moments he shared with Jasee. Her face appears vividly in his memory, filled with desperation and sorrow. The way she looked at him told him everything—she knew he would die, and she couldn't bear to witness it. In her final act of love, she cast the spell to send him away, sparing herself the heartbreak of watching his end.
As Nhia lies on the ground, clutching his bleeding chest, the weight of his memories transforms into a revelation. The thought strikes him like a lightning bolt—Jasee doesn't know I'm still alive. The realization fills him with an overwhelming mix of sorrow and determination.
With every ounce of strength left in him, Nhia musters a powerful yell, his voice echoing through the chaos of Sharpoon City.
"I'm still alive!!!"
His shout reverberates like a call to the heavens, raw with emotion and desperation. Suddenly, the sky above twists and shimmers, forming a swirling portal of brilliant light and magic. The air hums with energy as the portal expands, a radiant figure falls through it.
Jasee descends gracefully, her form glowing with magic and emotion. Tears stream down her face as her eyes lock onto Nhia, disbelief and relief mingling in her expression.