Night fell on Riverstar, a village nestled beside the world's most beautiful river. The Grand Sage had cleansed the river with his magic, ensuring its waters remained forever pure, allowing the stars to reflect upon it every night. This magical transformation led to the village being renamed in his honor.

Tonight, the villagers celebrated a bountiful harvest. The streets buzzed with laughter, folk songs, clinking glasses, and spilled drinks. They were grateful for a year of peace, free from monsters, war, and oppression, all thanks to the Grand Sage. Though it had been two hundred years since his last appearance, his legend endured, passed down through generations. They revered the mage whose power surpassed all others.

In a lively tavern, the revelry abruptly ceased as the lights went out, plunging the room into silence. Magic was at play; their songs were forcibly halted. All eyes turned toward a single light illuminating the empty stage, where a stool and a suitcase rested.

Confusion spread. Some rushed outside for help as a young man emerged on the stage. He wore a jacket adorned with diamond beads, loose pants ending just above his ankles, white socks, and shiny leather shoes. His face was youthful and bright, a smile playing on his lips as he bowed to the audience.

Without a word, he opened the suitcase and donned a brimmed hat. Panic flared in everyone's eyes. They tried to scream for him to stop, but the spell rendered them silent. They had seen this performance in magical projections and knew what was coming.

Music began, and the villagers trembled. They wanted to flee like the fortunate few who had already escaped, but it was too late. Their feet, like their voices, were no longer their own. Tears flowed silently as they endured the young man's performance, another day on the stage for him.

They feared not the song itself, which was catchy, but its origins. It was the song of the gods, not meant for mortals. The young man snapped his fingers, summoning a microphone in the middle of the stage. The audience could only pray for judgment to fall upon this blasphemy, hoping to be spared.

And so the show began. The lyrics flowed:

"She was more like a beauty queen from a movie scene

I said don't mind, but what do you mean, I am the one

Who will dance on the floor in the round?

She said I am the one, who will dance on the floor in the round

She told me her name was Billie Jean, as she caused a scene

Then every head turned with eyes that dreamed of being the one

Who will dance on the floor in the round"

The young man nodded sympathetically as people fainted to the tune of Michael Jackson's "Billie Jean." Their horrified expressions almost broke his composure as he struggled to contain his laughter.

The song had barely begun when high mages arrived, furiously attacking the magic barrier he had erected. Their efforts were in vain, their spells bouncing off harmlessly. The song reverberated throughout the village, driving the mages to despair. Desperately, they cried out, their voices muffled by the spell.

"Stop..."

They were stunned to find themselves affected by the magic. The young man, finger to his lips, mocked their impotence. Satisfied with the subdued chaos, he continued. His moves were polished, his voice less impressive than the original but earnest.

For the villagers, the performance dragged on interminably. They worshipped the Grand Sage, their savior. Watching this sacrilege made their blood boil. The young man's magic was far beyond the high mages'.

As the song neared its end, he tossed his hat into the air. When it touched the ceiling, everything vanished—the rafters, roof, and chimney—revealing the night sky and a serene moon.

"The last dance," he announced, "for the good-natured people of this village."

He performed the Moonwalk, gliding toward the moonlight and catching his hat. Suddenly, the villagers regained their voices, and pandemonium erupted.

"Get him!"

"Burn him!"

"Rip him apart!"

The mages resumed their spells, but the young man floated effortlessly above the river, his glittering jacket shimmering under the stars. His laughter echoed through the streets as he soared away.

The mages halted. No one could pursue him; flying was a skill none had mastered.

"He looks like someone," a mage observed.

"Yes, I see!" another agreed.

"Like him."

They turned to the speaker, ready to dismiss the idea but found themselves stunned. As high mages, they recognized the image: the young man resembled a youthful Jack Corvus, The Grand Sage.

Jack returned to Crystalwood by midday, blending into the woods to avoid unnecessary alarms. He walked alongside the townsfolk entering the city gate.

"Morning, Jack!" a guard greeted him.

"Morning, Berth!" Jack replied. "You look tired today."

"I think I ate something bad yesterday. I don't feel well."

Jack squinted, examining Berth. "That's a lot of beer, Berth. You never listen to me."

"How about this afternoon?" Berth deflected, realizing Jack was using magic to diagnose him.

"How else?" Jack sighed. "Remember to visit the clinic before closing time."

"Gotcha!"

As Jack approached his clinic, he noticed changes. Smoke rose from the chimney, and the house exuded a welcoming aura. Elle had reopened her secret service, attracting those seeking The Wise Elf.

The old door creaked open as a boy ran out, tripping over Jack.

"Watch your step, kid!" Jack admonished.

The boy stood, glaring at Jack with tear-filled eyes. "What did you ask Elle?" Jack inquired before the boy could retort.

His anger dissipated. "I asked her how to be stronger. And you shouldn't call her that. It's blasphemy. Call her The Wise Elf."

Jack smirked at the boy's naivety. "Strength comes from studying," he advised, ignoring the boy's tone.

"Studying?" The boy scoffed. "To be as powerful as The Destroyer? You need talent and resources. The Wise Elf showed me how. Why should I tell you?"

"Do you know Xerath is The Grand Sage's inferior?" Jack pressed.

"Blasphemy again! Are you saying the Grand Sage is the strongest because he studied?"

"What else?" Jack answered.

The boy burst into laughter. "You can't fool me!"

He patted Jack's shoulder sympathetically and walked away, muttering, "What a fool."

Jack shook his head and entered the clinic. The interior was simple: a table, a few chairs, and a bench for patients. Shelves lined with potion jars stood by the window. The back housed the kitchen and two bedrooms, one for him and one for Elle.

In the kitchen, Jack found Elle removing a pie from the oven.

"Elle, you should be resting..."

He stopped, seeing the clean kitchen, open windows, and a table laden with his favorite foods from his past life. Emotion overwhelmed him as he looked at Elle's youthful face.

"It's been 500 years, huh?" Elle said, her voice warm and soft.

Jack pulled a chair and sat, rubbing his eyes. "I'm too old for this, Elle."

She sat beside him, her hand on his. The touch brought sorrowful coldness. "I'm sorry, Jack. I will soon leave you alone."

"I wish to see Emily and Xerath with you, Elle," Jack said, eyes still covered.

"Soon. No one deserves it more."

"It's a sorrowful way to talk about death, isn't it?"

"Yes, your wife would kick your ass for being so gloomy."

Jack smiled. "Then I'll postpone it a bit longer. Emi can wait."

Elle laughed, her pride evident in her elegant demeanor. She had been Jack's companion since his first days in this world. Now, at the peak of his power, he surpassed even the elves, an unwelcome improvement. He had said goodbye to his wife, friends, and their children. Now, he faced it again with Elle, his last companion.

But he knew he must let her go in peace.

"I messed up again," Jack confessed, grabbing a chicken leg.

"You performed without me again?" Elle chided, disappointed.

"I hoped Manuel's music would be publicly performed..."

Jack recounted his triumph at Riverstar, scolding Elle for only teaching the boy about Xerath's path of brawn.

Elle's eyes closed, a peaceful smile on her lips.

Jack embraced her, tears flowing freely. The magic keeping him young waned, revealing grey hair, deep wrinkles, and a diminished stature.

"Bring her back home," Jack said.

Blue mana gathered around Elle as she vanished, returning to the forest where she was born.

Jack stood, tears staining his cheeks. He gazed out the window at the bustling town.

During Emily's last days, Jack had traveled to the world's edge, seeking a way to save her. He found an unbreakable barrier shrouded in mist. Everyone seemed trapped. He wished for everything to stop, especially his pain.

Surprisingly, something responded. Time stopped, the grass no longer waved, the wind stood still, but the sun shone bright. Too bright. The light spread, consuming the town and the world.

A long-forgotten table appeared before Jack. It resembled an in-game notification he barely remembered.

Experiment World No. 146 has reached its end.

Trial Completed.

Proceed to the next stage.

Please standby.