Interlude: The Magician of Melgalius I

A dream unfolds…

It is a tale from a distant past, a story from long, long ago.

The story of a certain magician—

In a grand old city, where a phantom castle floats in the sky above.

Before a restless, murmuring crowd.

A blonde girl, her hands bound behind her back, a rope around her neck, is paraded through the streets by soldiers on horseback.

Clad in tattered rags, half-naked, her body marred with wounds and filth, she is dragged along in a pitiful state.

Seeing the girl, stripped of human dignity, the crowd whispers among themselves.

“That girl… is she the princess of the neighboring Rozalia Kingdom…?”

“Oh, how cruel… Poor thing…”

“The last war… Rozalia’s fate was said to be utterly horrific…”

“The people were massacred, and the royal family, save for the princess sisters, was torn apart in execution.”

“The younger princess was favored by King Titus and taken to that sky castle, they say.”

“And… the elder princess is being made an example for us like this…”

The crowd shudders as they watch the blonde girl being led to the execution grounds.

“Oh, to think anyone could stand against the might of Titus-sama and his eight Demon Generals…”

“They lead an army of demons powerful enough to kill gods…”

“Before them, all people can do is grovel and beg for mercy…”

“Oh, how terrifying. King Titus, how terrifying…”

Every face in the crowd is twisted with fear and despair as they gaze at the girl.

“…”

The girl, silently led along, has long blonde hair dulled by grime, disheveled like a wraith’s. Her bowed head is veiled deeply by her locks.

Her face beneath that hair must be contorted with terror, despair, and regret…

or so the crowd believes.

As the blonde girl is made to stand on the ghastly torture-execution device—a wheel-hanging platform—set up in the grand square…

A gust of wind stirs her tangled hair, revealing her beautiful features and expression.

“—!”

The crowd gasps at the girl’s unexpected expression.

She shows neither fear, despair, nor regret. Nor does she bear the serene countenance of a martyr accepting death with a clear conscience.

Only seething hatred.

Only burning rage.

In an era where everyone cowers before the overwhelming power of the tyrant, their spirits broken, groveling, forsaking dignity, and accepting misery… this girl alone is different.

True, her will is far from noble. It is neither justice nor righteous indignation.

What surges within her is a pitch-black inferno of emotion, fierce enough to burn the world to ashes.

Yet, even so—in this dark age, in this world, she alone refuses to yield, clinging to human dignity and the will to resist the tyrant.

Even if it is a futile, comical resistance in the face of her impending death.

“Demon King! How dare you destroy my homeland…! My sister…!”

The girl spews venomous resentment, as if from the depths of hell, her gaze fixed on the sky beyond.

While everyone else looks down, groveling, she alone defiantly raises her eyes to the heavens.

With those sky-blue eyes, she glares at the majestic sky castle floating high above, as if cursing it.

“I’ll never forgive you…! I will never—”

Thwack!

At that moment, the furious executioner’s rod strikes the insolent girl’s head.

Strength drains from her legs, and she collapses to her knees.

The executioners surround her, beating her relentlessly with their rods.

Mercilessly. Hysterically. Cruelly. Without compassion.

“How dare you! Such insolence!”

“To call our great king a ‘Demon King’!?”

“Blasphemous!” “Blasphemous!” “Blasphemous!” “Blasphemous!”

At this rate, she’ll die before the execution even begins… such is the ferocity of the blows.

Unable to bear the sight, the crowd averts their eyes, looking down.

Yet—she continues to gaze upward, gritting her teeth.

Even as she’s beaten, her bones broken, her skull cracked, blood splattering, eyes crushed.

Still, she looks up at the sky. At that phantom sky castle.

The reason is simple.

She simply cannot forgive—not even in death—the Demon King who took her beloved family and destroyed her homeland.

But in the end, it is no resistance at all, merely a hollow defiance.

As the girl’s consciousness begins to fade under the relentless blows… that’s when it happens.

Click!

With the sound of a strange clock, the world instantly loses its color, turning monochrome.

At the same time, the executioners beating the girl, the soldiers guarding the area, and the gathered crowd all freeze like statues.

No—in that moment, the entire world seems to stop, drained of color.

The only things retaining color are the dying blonde girl and…

“…”

Someone who, unnoticed, now stands before her.

That someone is a girl with unnaturally white hair and skin, eyes the color of dull red coral, and grotesque wings sprouting from her back.

Snap.

The white girl snaps her fingers.

The executioners and soldiers who had been beating the blonde girl crumble, still frozen, into sand, vanishing cleanly as if weathered away by the wind.

Having eradicated the enemies with some otherworldly power, the white girl looks down at the blonde girl and speaks.

“…Do you have the resolve to abandon your human life to fight the ‘Demon King’?”

The white girl’s eyes are like glass marbles.

If the blonde girl’s eyes are an abyss, this white girl’s are a void.

“You cannot be saved. The moment time resumes, you will die. But I can offer you a path forward.

It will surely be a path far more painful, bitter, and devoid of salvation than dying here and now. Yet, if you tread that thorny path of hardship and suffering to its end… your blade might reach the ‘Demon King’’s throat. So… what will you do?”

There is no right or wrong.

The blonde girl does not know who this white girl, who appeared so suddenly, is.

She cannot even imagine what will become of her.

But she cannot end here.

Not in a place like this.

And so—it must have been fate.

“…The contract is now forged.”

The white girl murmurs in a voice devoid of readable emotion, responding to the blonde girl’s answer.

“From this moment, I, La’tirika《The Celestial Taum》, transfer the master authority from Titus Cruo to you.”

As the white girl flaps her grotesque wings, particles of light like shimmering scales spill from them, showering the blonde girl and seeping into her body.

The girl’s wounds, beyond any hope of healing, vanish completely.

Her crushed eyes regenerate, revealing irises as red as altered blood.

And—something within the girl begins to change.

Her existence as a girl, as a human, begins to shift, transforming into something else.

Though she retains a human form, she transcends the boundaries of humanity—becoming something else entirely.

The white girl asks solemnly:

“Once more, tell me your name, from your own lips, my Master. With that, this contract will be complete.”

The blonde girl speaks.

Staring at the sky—at the lofty sky castle far above—she declares:

“I am—Sora.”

“Sora?”

The white girl furrows her brow.

“That’s not right, is it? Your true name is—”

“Sora,” she insists.

With fierce conviction, the blonde girl—Sora—declares it.

Her eyes, burning with rage and hatred, remain fixed on the sky castle.

Gazing as if she could burn it to ashes with her stare.

What did she feel in that moment, taking the name “Sora,” the name of the sky where her sworn enemy resides?

Now—no one will ever know.

“…I understand.”

The white girl exhales, as if resigning herself to something.

“From now on, we’re in this together, Sora. I’ll use you like a tool, and you can treat me as a convenient weapon. Our desires align. Namely—“

“—to kill the ‘Demon King’.”

“Hmph. You catch on quick. That’s helpful.”

With that, the white girl begins to walk, leading Sora along.

“Come on, let’s go. First, we’ll make you strong enough to stand against the Demon King—”

—And so begins the long, long journey of a certain magician.

I saw it all in a dream.

Why am I seeing such a dream?

I am…