The Dream Stigma
Clang! Ch-ching!
...He's winning.
Isabel couldn't believe the scene unfolding before her eyes. Of course, having fought him herself, she knew he handled a sword well.
But that was only when he could use mana.
Even without mana, Zien dodged the blade by a hand's breadth and struck at his enemy's vitals. Isabel marveled at his exquisite movements.
It's not like his opponents are weaklings, either.
Even without abilities, the Guma Squad were foes honed solely on swordsmanship. To Isabel's beginner eyes, their swordplay was sharp.
"What the hell are you doing?! Ten of you can't even handle one kid?!"
Cloa's scream was met with screams in reply.
"Argh!"
"Using your Stigmata for crimes like this... You won't ever leave prison. Death penalty? Well, who knows."
Cloa gnashed her teeth at Zien's mocking sneer.
"That arrogant little shit...!"
Cloa charged with dagger in hand. It was a fierce strike, but in pure swordplay, she had no chance against him.
A league apart. The swordsmanship of a hero who had dominated an era shone even brighter without mana—it didn't fade in the slightest.
Slash!
Zien's sword grazed Cloa's side viciously.
"Ow! It hurts, you bastard! Damn it! Damn yooou! I'll rip you apart! You think you and your friends are walking out of this mage tower alive? In your dreams..."
Thwack!
Cloa's snarling head snapped back from the impact.
"Shut up! What was that about me being fragile? Come on, say it again."
It was Isabel's punch. Cloa, struck dead center in the face, spat blood and flew back.
"Heh, heh heh hee... You should've just come with me. Heh heh, hee hee... The guy I came with? He's no gentleman."
Cloa, now unhinged, tossed a sheet of paper. It touched her body, and she was sucked entirely into it.
"Ah! She got away!"
As Cloa vanished, Isabel cried out in frustration. The ten Guma Squad members lay groaning on the floor.
"You okay? If only I could've used mana, I might've done something..."
Feeling guilty for just watching, Isabel trailed off.
"Yeah, good call. A Saber's judgment always prioritizes efficiency."
Zien's words weren't empty flattery. Without mana, her interference would've been a hindrance.
"Let's head to the lower floors for now."
Zien pointed to the emergency stairs. Now that they knew the targets were after Isabel, linking up with the guards below was priority.
"Uh... Is this an artifact too?"
Isabel's face paled visibly at the stairs.
Chilhyok.
The stairs, which had evacuated citizens moments ago, were severed. As if only the mage tower's upper floors had shifted to another dimension, half the staircase was shrouded in darkness.
"Eastern barrier. Probably an artifact containing 3rd-zone magic."
"So we're trapped?"
"At least an hour."
"Phones, ear mics—all dead... Ugh, of all groups, Desire."
Isabel sighed heavily.
"Desire?"
"You don't watch the news? The villains who robbed Stealth Bank recently. Those masks are their executive symbols."
"That's why they're throwing around artifacts like candy."
The two hid in a storage room for daily necessities.
An awkward, tense silence stretched on.
Isabel pulled out hard cookies, crunching them loudly before gulping water.
"They're after me because of my dad, right?"
Hunched with knees hugged to her chest, Isabel sighed.
"...Idiots got the wrong idea."
Her voice, uncharacteristically subdued.
"I'm no good as a hostage."
"Why do you think that?"
Zien's response was curt.
"It's the truth. My dad won't even look me in the eye. It'd be weirder if you didn't know."
Zien just listened, offering no reply. Clumsy sympathy or comfort would've been worse, and Isabel preferred it this way.
Thud.
Zien sat beside her. Faint dust swirled. Isabel muttered with a dejected face.
"Everything pisses me off."
She buried her face in her knees.
Yubel Blitz.
A rigid father obsessed with rules. Forcing the memory, she couldn't recall him smiling. According to the butler, he used to laugh a lot.
Never seen it, so who cares.
The day Isabel was born, Yubel wept. Not tears of joy for his child, but grief for his lost lover. That's when his smiles began to fade—on the very day she was born.
Isabel set down the cookie bag. Time crawled. After about three minutes, Zien spoke flatly.
"Was it a few years ago?"
Over a hundred and ten years, give or take?
"There was this girl I dueled with bamboo swords."
"You dueled her?"
"Yeah. I always lost." Isabel's ears perked with interest. Zien ignored her curiosity, grabbing another cookie to crunch.
Crunch.
"She was a real genius."
Zien continued softly, killing time.
"Back in my childhood, my goal was beating her."
"That girl?"
"Yeah. Small village—just the two of us."
He trained relentlessly, growing stronger. Time passed. Eventually, they could no longer duel. His reason to get stronger was gone.
"But later, I realized wins and losses didn't matter."
"...Then what did?"
At Isabel's question, Zien recalled old memories. Vivid even after all these years.
"If you don't say it, I won't know."
Unforgettable eyes the color of a clear river.
"It's that regrets come too late."
A cryptic tale.
But Isabel stared at Zien, who had finished speaking.
The mage tower's corridor.
A pitch-black space where fires had died out.
A masked man strode through it.
From that day, wearing the mask, he gained a new name: Illusion.
Cloa... Deploying the Heaven-Net Earth-Web on her own. Shouldn't have left it to that woman...
The Binding Barrier Heaven-Net Earth-Web was a consumable artifact, saved for a crucial moment.
If we suffer this blood loss without securing the target, the damage will be huge.
Yet.
The mage tower was as vast as its prestige.
Twenty minutes left. Can't have the government's hounds barging in.
Still, his steps didn't hurry. Like a drifting dark cloud, the man walked leisurely.
Step, step.
Illusion stopped before the storage room.
Even without sensing mana due to the barrier, the anomaly was obvious. The air reeked of perfume.
Fools.
Lips curved behind the mask.
Two steps back, then Illusion charged. Mana-clad fist pulverized the steel door like tofu.
The door shattered, revealing the warehouse interior.
...Glass?
The floor was buried in shattered glass shards. Thick perfume assaulted Illusion's nose.
Perfume... a trap!
Too late—he was already inside.
"Whoa, he actually went in?" A woman's voice from outside.
"Isabel, your turn. Can you light it up?"
A man's voice this time.
Illusion whipped around. Far off, the girl—no, the target—grinned with gloved hands.
"Of course. Time to earn my keep."
Isabel's gloves surged with mana. The warehouse brimmed with volatile perfume. Ignite it? Simple outcome.
Boom!
Flames devoured the warehouse.
Bottled water dampened the spread, but the explosion's shock ignored it.
Acrid smoke filled the space.
Impossible to see results. But no one survives that blast, Isabel thought.
"Using the terrain... Hiding presence, striking weakness."
If not for Illusion's voice from the smoke. She'd have believed it. Smoke parted as he emerged.
"Heard you were students, but that's high-level stuff. Without the artifact, I'd be toast."
He was unscathed. At his feet, a straw doll burned.
"Our target is the mage tower master's daughter, Isabel Blitz. Desire. Illusion promises: come quietly, no more sacrifices."
Backlit by fire, shadows danced wildly on Illusion's mask, demonic.
"Villains have honor now?" Zien shot back, but Illusion's gaze fixed on Isabel.
"Your answer?"
Malevolent mana poured from Illusion. A Desire executive was beyond students. His power matched a 5th-rank Saber; Isabel and Zien topped out at 3rd.
Overwhelming gap.
Yet Isabel spat venom.
"Fuck off."
Middle finger raised, sour grin. Illusion clicked his tongue at her defiance.
"You refuse the toast of courtesy and choose the wine of penalty."
Taut tension.
Like a bowstring ready to snap. Two students faced evil.
"Want to call you brave, but wrong foe, bad luck."
Illusion's voice echoed in the silent hall.
"My Magic Art is tricky—lots of conditions."
Zien itched to charge, but couldn't. Breaking formation with Isabel meant doom.
Illusion spoke leisurely.
"My Stigma's name is Dream."
Zien and Isabel stayed silent. Illusion stepped forward.
"School didn't teach manners, huh."
"My manners are picky about people."
At Zien's retort, Illusion's Stigma glowed.
"Wonder how long that arrogance lasts. Hope it's a sweet dream."
Illusion clicked his shoe. Time stopped.
No metaphor.
Zien's vision grayscale'd. Not a finger could twitch.
Shoes are the Magic Tool?
Shadows writhed at Illusion's feet. Hallucination or hypnosis-type Magic Art. Tough handicap, tricky foe.
Writhe.
Shadow engulfed Zien. No pain, but mind blurred.
Ugh!
He resisted, but overwhelming mana crushed his will. Perfect darkness. Zien felt himself drifting to sleep.
Students after all. When he wakes—if he does—he'll be a vegetable.
Illusion turned to Isabel.