As Taylor sat on his bed, grappling with the aftermath of the nightmare, time seemed to stretch endlessly before him.
The clock on the wall ticked away the minutes, each passing second marking another agonizing moment of uncertainty.
Normally, by this time, Taylor would have been meticulously preparing himself for the day ahead, ensuring that every detail of his appearance was immaculate. But today was different.
Today, he found himself paralyzed by the lingering effects of the nightmare that had shaken him to his core.
Never before had he experienced such a profound sense of vulnerability.
As a butler, he prided himself on his unwavering composure and dedication to his duties.
But the terror he had witnessed in his dream had shattered that facade, leaving behind a sense of raw, unfiltered fear.
For Taylor, the members of the Kraus Household were more than just his employers—they were his family, his purpose, his reason for being.
The mere thought of anything happening to them filled him with a primal instinct to protect, to defend, to sacrifice everything in their name.
And yet, in the darkness of the night, faced with the horrifying specter of his own powerlessness, Taylor grappled with a profound sense of despair.
How could he protect those he cared for most when even in his dreams, he was powerless to save them?
'I should start preparing….'
As the clock struck 5:30, a heavy weight settled in Taylor's chest. The time for action had come, but he found himself unable to move, trapped in the grip of his own fear and uncertainty.
'Forest… a giant wolf…. Academy uniform...." he kept mumbling things he saw from the dream.
As Taylor tried to piece together the fragments of his nightmare, the memories slipped through his fingers like grains of sand, leaving behind only a haunting echo of pain, fear, and sadness.
Frustration gnawed at him as he struggled to make sense of it all, his mind racing to connect the dots before they faded into oblivion.
In a moment of clarity, Taylor snapped himself out of his reverie with a sharp slap to his cheeks.
"This won't do," he muttered to himself, steeling his resolve.
With a determined glance at the clock, he rose from his bed and made his way to the bathroom.
The cool water of the sink refreshed him as he splashed it over his face, washing away the remnants of his troubled dreams.
For now, he needed to focus on his duties, pushing aside the turmoil that churned within him.
Yet, even as he scrubbed away the physical remnants of his unrest, Taylor couldn't shake the lingering sense of unease that clung to him like a shadow.
The cryptic message from the angel echoed in his mind, a puzzle he was no closer to solving.
Slowly he was starting to get the connection within the first nightmare that he had.
"Make her a part of your world," the words reverberated in his thoughts, teasing him with their elusive meaning.
Though he had tried to bury the message as a passing dream they continued to linger, a constant reminder of the mysteries that surrounded him.
'Make her a part of my world…. Sophia?'
'How and why in the first place….!'
Gazing into the mirror, Taylor saw a reflection of a man worn down by the weight of uncertainty.
The once-confident facade he presented to the world was crumbling, revealing the cracks beneath the surface.
With a heavy sigh, he straightened his shoulders and forced a semblance of composure onto his features.
As Taylor gazed into the mirror, his reflection warped before his eyes, morphing into something grotesque and unsettling. Instead of seeing his own face staring back at him, he was confronted with the visage of a demon—a twisted, malevolent version of himself.
The demon in the mirror grinned back at him with a manic intensity, its eyes gleaming with an unsettling hunger.
Taylor's heart pounded in his chest as a chill swept through him, goosebumps prickling his skin with icy tendrils of fear.
His mind raced with disbelief.
How could this be happening?
'Am I cursed or something?' haunted by some malevolent force that sought to torment him?
Unable to tear his gaze away from the macabre spectacle unfolding before him, Taylor felt a surge of instinctual dread coursing through his veins.
With a trembling hand, he reached out to touch the mirror, half expecting the surface to yield to his touch like liquid mercury.
But as his fingertips grazed the cool glass, the demon's grin widened, its laughter echoing in Taylor's mind like a sinister echo.
Panic seized him, and with a primal instinct, he lashed out, striking the mirror with a powerful blow.
The glass shattered with a deafening crash, fragments raining down around him like shards of broken dreams.
As the fractured pieces littered the bathroom floor, Taylor's reflection returned to normal, his own face staring back at him with a mixture of shock and horror.
Breathless and shaken, Taylor staggered backward, his pulse pounding in his ears.
What had he just witnessed? Was it a trick of the light, a hallucination born from exhaustion and stress?
Or was there something darker at play—a force beyond his understanding, lurking in the shadows of his own mind?
Although it was an extremely demonic looking creature…
'That was clearly me'
As he struggled to make sense of the ordeal, one thing became clear: he was no longer certain of anything, not even his own sanity.
….
In the expansive training grounds of the Kraus household, a scene of chaos unfolded as a formidable figure, towering like an Olympic bodybuilder, dashed and weaved amidst the onslaught of explosions cascading from the sky.
Rumble...! Rumble…!
BOOM!!!
"Aghhh!!!" he bellowed, his voice drowned out by the deafening crackle of lightning narrowly missing his head.
His breath came in ragged gasps as he evaded the deadly bolts, each one a hair's breadth from turning him into charred remains.
Amidst the chaos, a chorus of voices rose from the stands, a mix of cheers and taunts echoing across the grounds.
Knights of the Kraus household, loyal to their master and duke, rallied behind him with cries of encouragement.
"Woo hoo!!"
"Fighting! Fighting!"
"Go your grace!"
"You're a real man, aren't you, face it hoi!"
"Get him, my lady!"
Of course, not all of them supported him though…
Among the people on the large training ground, a young lady stood out with her stunning blonde locks and eyes as mesmerizing as the azure heavens.
Her hands crackled with raw power as she unleashed a fearsome spell known as 'Smite'—a five-star lightning spell of devastating magnitude.
With each incantation, bolts of lightning arced from her fingertips, streaking across the sky with deadly precision.
The duke, valiant yet vulnerable, faced off against this formidable opponent, his every move a dance of survival in the face of overwhelming power.
"Stop!!!"" he screamed in frustration.
As the battle raged on, the air crackled with the intensity of magic, thick with the scent of ozone and punctuated by the thunderous explosions of spells colliding.
Amidst the chaos, the duke found himself in a bewildering situation that seemed to defy all logic.
Even his wife, positioned at the sidelines, couldn't contain her amusement at the unexpected turn of events.
With laughter dancing in her eyes, she clapped along with the other spectators, reveling in the spectacle unfolding before them.
Despite his desperate cries for understanding, she only laughed harder, teasing him with questions about why he wasn't accepting his punishment.
'Punishment?'
The very word sent a shiver of confusion down the duke's spine.
Why would their daughter seek to punish him in such a dramatic fashion? It was a question that echoed through his mind, even as he dodged and weaved amidst the onslaught of lightning attacks.
All he had desired on this crisp morning was to witness the progress of the trainee knights.
Yet, he never could have anticipated being bombarded by spells of such magnitude.
The raw power of Stella's incantations was evident as she chanted, her focus unwavering as she aimed her finger at her father once more, intent on bringing him to his knees.
[Lightning Magic 5 stars]
[Smite] Her words hung in the air like a foreboding storm cloud, casting a shadow over the duke's attempts to reason with her.
Desperation tinged his voice as he pleaded for answers, his heart heavy with paternal concern.
"W-wait, my dear, no baby, why are you suddenly attacking your daddy like this? What did I do wrong?" he implored, his voice laced with confusion and a hint of sorrow.
But his daughter remained unmoved, her resolve unyielding as she continued her relentless assault.
As the battle reached its crescendo, the duke couldn't help but feel a sense of helplessness wash over him.
Despite his efforts to understand and reconcile with his daughter, he was met only with silence and the crackling of lightning overhead.
With a weary sigh, the Duke's thoughts were interrupted by the ominous rumbling of thunder in the darkened skies.
Blue lightning crackled, illuminating the scene in stark flashes as it descended toward him. It was the last sound he remembered before consciousness slipped away, a hazy veil enveloping his senses.
In the haze of fading awareness, murmurs reached him—soft, but unmistakable.
"I told you not to mess with Taylor, father," his daughter's voice whispered, a haunting refrain that echoed in his mind.
As he teetered on the brink of unconsciousness, the Duke wrestled with conflicting instincts.
He possessed the power to counter the lightning attacks, to shield himself with his aura, but he refrained from doing so.
To unleash his world here in a small fight like this, would only harm his daughter, a prospect he could not bear to entertain.
'Taylor….'
'Just wait you fucking bastard…!!! You dare snitch on me on my daughter of all people…'
The duke swore to kill Taylor once he meets him.