The evening air was cool, a welcome contrast to the day's oppressive heat. Zack sat alone on the weathered wooden bench in the heart of the Academy's white and golden flower garden. The soft, sweet fragrance of the blossoms seemed to fill the space around him, their delicate petals glowing like stars in the fading sunlight. The flowers swayed gently in the breeze, their vibrant colors—rich golds and bright whites—fluttering in harmony with the shifting wind.
Zack couldn't help but count them again in his mind. He'd done it countless times before, trying to ignore the sense of dread that always followed.
One... two... three...
As the third number fell from his mind, a sudden chill swept through the garden. The ground beneath him seemed to tremble slightly, a subtle shift in the air that rippled like a wave of dark energy. Zack's gaze turned upward toward the sky, which was rapidly growing darker, the soft golden light of dusk consumed by the blackness of an unnatural shadow.
A portal tore open in the fabric of reality. It was a swirling mass of red and black, crackling with energy, and from it poured an army of armored demons. They were clad in jagged, black plate armor, their eyes burning with malevolent intent as they marched forward with precise, synchronized steps. A deep, guttural growl emanated from the portal as the demons poured out, filling the space in front of Zack. They were led by a towering figure, a woman with dark skin, long orange hair, and an armored bra that exposed her muscular form. She held a massive spike sword in one hand, her aura heavy and oppressive.
Beth the 4th Corps Commander of the demon army.
Zack had seen this before. In every previous life and on the screen in his monitor before he drove inside the game if Aether Heroes, this was the moment when Arthur, his allies, and the harem heroines would come to rescue the Academy. They would fight the demons, vanquish them, and it would all return to the usual routine. But Zack wasn't waiting for them. He wasn't waiting for the battle or for the rescue operation to unfold.
No, Zack was waiting for something else.
Something darker.
From the shadows that had begun to crawl over the garden came a figure. It emerged slowly, with a chilling grace that sent a ripple of unease through the air. The shape was massive, towering over Zack by at least twice his height. Its form was humanoid but distorted, with too many arms and too many faces. Each face wore a twisted expression—some were contorted with rage, others with fear, but one expression dominated them all: jealousy.
Zack knew what this was before it even spoke. He had seen it a thousand times in his previous lives, on the battlefield and in his memories. The creature before him was the Apostle of Envy, one of the five apostles of Chaosbringer.
Envy's many faces turned toward Zack, the eyes of each face burning with a malicious glow as it observed him.
"I'm jealous of this flower's beauty," Envy's voice rang out, a deep, distorted sound that reverberated through the garden.
As Envy spoke, the air around them seemed to grow colder, darker. The very earth beneath the flowers began to wither, the once vibrant golden and white petals curling and shriveling as if consumed by an unseen rot. The flowers that Zack had been holding in his hand, their beauty once so pristine, now turned brittle and brown, their life snuffed out by the mere presence of the Apostle.
Zack's heart sank as he watched the scene unfold, the flowers dying around him. He had seen this before too many times, and yet, it never failed to fill him with a cold sense of dread.
The Apostle of Envy was here.
Zack stood from the bench, his gaze unwavering, his grip tightening on his spear. He could feel the weight of his past lives pressing against him—the memories of battles fought, lives lost, and the pain of it all. He had faced Envy before, and he knew what would come next. The creature's jealousy would not stop at flowers—it would consume everything in its path, trying to break Zack's spirit as it had done so many times before.
But Zack wasn't the same man he once was.
He had faced death countless times, had been torn apart, stabbed, poisoned, and crushed. He had experienced it all, but the one thing he had learned—no matter how many times the cycle repeated itself—was that he could always rise again.
Zack raised his spear, the familiar weight of it in his hands. His body, honed by the countless cycles, was ready. His stance was steady, his eyes cold and determined as he locked onto Envy.
He knew the strategy. He knew how this battle would unfold.
"Let's end this," Zack muttered under his breath, his voice barely audible against the wind.
Envy's many faces twisted into an expression of amusement. The Apostle's eyes glimmered with cruel delight as it prepared to strike. The flowers in the garden, once vibrant and alive, were nothing more than dead husks now, symbols of the envy that had consumed them.
But Zack wouldn't let it consume him. Not again.
He gripped his spear tighter, ready to face this twisted version of fate once more.
The Apostle of Envy's many arms raised, ready to attack.
And Zack, as he had done so many times before, prepared to strike first.
The cycle was about to repeat, but this time, he would not falter.
End of Chapter