“The spell is prepared, Lord Meruria. Give the word, and I can turn back time on the destruction that wrought our beautiful city,” said a 6-Star Soul Warrior. “The damage can be healed.” Mia held a jeweled-encrusted staff that had miniature planets orbiting the top. It shimmered brightly, like a solar system or galaxy, and it was packed to the brim with so much mana. The mystic she had channeled took eight hours alone. She wore a shimmering robe made of light and jewels that enhanced her mana regeneration, a hairpin that did the same, and ten rings that lowered her mana consumption by 5 percent, and even that was just barely enough to create it.   

Ten hours had passed since the event. All surviving Soul Warriors were standing in the most extravagant ballroom in the country. Lord Meruria's strongest mage had used a variation of [Material Rejuvenation] to repair the church after the chaos had dispersed.

“Do it, Mia,” commanded Lord Meruria. Her face... I’d never seen her so full of dread before. Her robe was dyed black with soot, leaving very little of its original color. Her skin was stained with dirt, but she was otherwise uninjured.   

“At once.” Mia held her staff, but her other Soul Weapon—a bow—flashed into existence, looking as extravagant as its alternate form.    

The two existed as one, proof of her adept mastery over the legendary items. My sister and I had yet to master using two forms, although we were close.  

From staff to bow, the power shall flow, As I shrink the conduit, the spell shall grow. In my grasp, a vessel, condensed and tight, Containing the magic, radiant and bright.  

Staff, now diminished, to its essence confined, The power it holds, in the tip enshrined. Transformed into a bow, elegant and true, A conduit for my will, through which it shall imbue.  

Nocked arrow quivers, drawn with resolve, A sacred quest, my purpose to absolve. In this fateful moment, skyward it flies, Unleashing the spell, reaching celestial skies.  

[Vortex of Temporal Reversal], heed my call, Encompass the city, restore what did befall. As the arrow soars, piercing the celestial dome, Unleash the power, let the reversal come.  

Shooting high, with precision and grace, The arrow traverses time and space. Through heavens it ascends, with purpose sublime, Igniting the barrier, reversing the ravages of time.  

The bowstring sings, a melody of fate, As the arrow soars, sealing the city's fate. [Vortex of Temporal Reversal], woven in the celestial art, Reverse the destruction, heal every broken part.  

Arise, O city, from ashes and plight, Embrace the past, bathed in radiant light. Time rewinds, as the arrow takes flight, Rebuilding the city, in the reverse of night.  

Shrunk staff, now a bow, and arrow set free, I am the caster, the one who shall decree. [Vortex of Temporal Reversal], your power unleashed, Bring forth restoration, the city's pain appeased.  

With each shot released, with purpose imbued, I reclaim the past, the memories pursued. [Vortex of Temporal Reversal], let the reversal begin, Bring back the beauty, let the restoration within.  

Mia knocked the arrow during the chant, kneeled, and aimed straight up. She let it go, and it soared like a pillar of light, flying high into the sky, destroying the ceiling again.  

It flew until we couldn’t see it, then it exploded. The mystical energy became a city-wide barrier encompassing all Junsa, and time began to flow in reverse, but only for things that weren’t alive.    

The process would take four hours to fully complete. Lord Meruria had sent her army into the city to spread her word and keep order, although...   

Junsa would never be the same.   

“Give me your reports.”   

One by one, we told Lord Meruria what we had learned in the ten hours that followed the chaos.   

Over 90% of Cridia’s nobles in Junsa at the time of the incident had died—either from the initial explosion or the destruction in the city that followed.    

Will Penmark Fairchild—the Fairchild’s Duchy new duke, had lost his wife, unborn child, and stepdaughter. He only survived because his demon, Lilith, nearly extinguished her life to save him. She needed to tap into his mana supply to keep the barrier up, but after he passed out, she soon befell a similar fate.   

They were currently resting in the church’s infirmary.   

Team Quella survived because its leader used [Soul Barrier] to defend her allies. However, it nearly killed her, and she fell to her knees immediately after. Rest served her well, but she said she still had trouble standing on her feet without help from Elly and Ami.   

My sister and I endured it without much trouble. It barely left a mark on our clothes.   

Team Salim survived the same way, although Sir Salim couldn’t save Laika’s and Leika’s father. Sir Salim said those two were still asleep in the infirmary, but their lives weren’t in danger. However, the Barkwoods were...killed. A meteorite landed on their estate, killing everyone inside.   

Laika and Leika were the last ones alive to bear their name. I didn’t envy Sir Salim or Shiku because they had to break the bad news to the Dogfolk maids whenever they awoke from their fear-induced coma. And Renata survived it because she was within range of Sir Salim’s barrier.     

When it came those that were summoned before us... I had seen the look on their faces the sheer instant the explosion occurred. I knew they held enough power still to save their lives and our classmates, who they were training, but they stopped at the last possible second and allowed death to take them. For some, living in this world was a curse. Lord Meruria wouldn’t permit suicide if they had use. Returning the dead to life was incredibly hard, if not impossible, but with what we knew about [Conferment], instilling a rule to reverse death was possible if you devoted your entire being to it.   

But with how powerful Mia was? Perhaps developing a spell to raise the dead wasn’t so farfetched...   

Although my sister and I didn’t subscribe to that ideology. We believed the dead should stay dead. If you perished, you would have reached the end of your potential. But my sister was my potential. And I was hers. We decided that once either of us had met our end... The other would end their life. We’d be together in death—just as we were in life.   

I loved her so much.   

Tokko and Mia didn’t require anything to endure the attack. At their core, they always had a barrier surrounding them, preventing them from succumbing to harm.   

Damon... He survived, but he didn’t deserve it. Yasmin, Isobel, and Alika—his harem— threw themselves as a shield upon his command and used their lives to protect him. He acted like this didn’t bother him and groaned more about the ‘loss of pussy’ than thanking those that allowed him to live even a moment longer.   

His potential... There was none. His soul was dark and depraved. If I had the chance, I’d end him here and now.   

Carter Armlet summoned a horde of drones to take the brunt of the destruction. He lost an arm and a leg, but regeneration magic could heal that. He was scheduled to be back on his feet within the week.   

“And there’s more. Charlie, Raylee, Hatay, Sera, Crast, Gerrald, and Harmond didn’t make it.”   

“Then they were weak and undeserving. I don’t even remember who they are.” Lord Meruria’s words were shocking, although we were used to them. Quella nervously swallowed and continued, citing that Junsa had lost an estimated 15,000 people after the meteorites stopped and an additional 4-6,000 from the riots before they were subdued.    

There would’ve been more, but Elly had rushed out into the city, wielding wings granted to her from a spell cast by Quella. The idol sang [Healing Melody] for four hours straight. Her voice acted as a beacon of hope to all who were lost. Her song reached even the darkest pits of Junsa. Meanwhile, my sister and I, the rest of Team Quella, and Team Salim were out there with the recovery efforts. Tokko remained to protect Lord Meruria, and Mia was busy preparing the spell.   

Damon... He just went to bed without a care. He was always selfish, and Shiku argued about needing his strength to find survivors. That almost turned into a fight, but Shiku stomped away and used wings provided to him by Quella to soar into the city.   

Lord Meruria... She was a woman who thought a thousand steps in advance. She preferred to be in control. It was faint, but I knew she had lived her life with a dozen alternate plans for every situation.  

And that was why I knew that dread on her face was manufactured.    

It was just for show.    

“I’ve deduced the spell’s origin,’ said Mia. “It originates from mana previously identified from the Holy Lord of Miasma, Geron, leader of the Kingdom of Uquenia, our western neighbor.”   

“They tried to assassinate us?” Quella asked.    

"It seems to me that war is the only response, Lord Meruria,” said Tokko. “They may think they’ve dealt a mortal blow, but they’re severely mistaken. To do anything else but reply in kind would show our weakness.”   

“You’re correct… My faithful Soul Warriors… Listen to your Holy Lord as she speaks…” 

---

The disaster that attempted to cripple Junsa occurred one month ago. In that time, Lord Meruria rallied her country and dispatched messengers to recruit able men and women from her towns, cities, and villages to fight for her.    

I stood on the cliff's edge, my eyes fixed on the sprawling battlefield at the Cridia-Uquenia mountain path. Sheer brutality unfolded before me, a maelstrom of violence and chaos. The clash of weapons reverberated through the air, accompanied by the agonized cries of warriors locked in mortal combat.  

Crimson splatters painted the ground, mixing with the churned earth. The metallic scent of blood mingled with the acrid stench of burnt flesh, a reminder of the ruthlessness of war. Warriors from both sides fought with unyielding ferocity, their faces etched with grim determination.  

Sword met sword, releasing sparks of defiance. Arrows soared through the air, piercing flesh and bone. Shields shattered under the relentless onslaught, leaving warriors exposed to the merciless blows of their adversaries. The ground trembled beneath the weight of armored boots and the impact of bodies hitting the earth as magic reigned supreme, burning corpses and creating unwavering barriers of flames, ice, poison, and mist that slowly shrunk to devour the prisoners they held.  

Siege weapons unleashed their devastating power, tearing through fortifications and scattering defenders while targeting the wyvern riders and hippogriff knights. The crackling sound of fire consumed wooden structures, casting an eerie glow upon the battlefield. Shouts of commands mingled with screams of pain. That echoed through the tumultuous landscape.  

Amid this chaos, I observed the relentless onslaught, a strategist analyzing the ebb and flow of battle. It was an intense theater of war, a dance of death and destruction.    

But their farming lands were more fertile than Cridia’s. Their metal-rich mines were the cornerstone of their economy. They were the Western Continent’s primary supplier of iron, steel, bronze, and brass since their dungeons practically oozed ore like blood from a cut.  

They held a monopoly on the market.  

And Lord Meruria wanted everything they had as recompense for attacking her capital city. She desired land, people, and resources to expend what had been lost. She wanted to grow her army ever more since approximately half of her soldiers stationed in Junsa were killed. A small detachment was standing near the north, on the verge of the former Apival Duchy. They were to deter our northern neighbor from being cute.    

And Holy Lord Geron had always been a thorn in her side. She hated him—probably for petty reasons. Lord Meruria’s spies had told her that he had summoned between 4 and 6 Soul Warriors, yet they couldn’t get their Star Soul Levels. But nothing Carter had found on them had proved they were anything to be worried about.  

Once conquered, Cridia’s land would more than double. Lord Meruria would have more nobles to suck dry—more men to throw into her army.  

She wasn’t sad about her losses. She didn't care for the Soul Warriors that died because they had outlived their usefulness. I was sure she could’ve saved everyone because she had to have known about the explosion before it went off. Even if it was just a breath of forewarning, she’d need but a wave of her staff to protect us with a barrier. And the same went for Lord Barkwood and the other nobles. Lord Meruria had drained them of their usefulness during the past few decades.  

If anything, this was a blessing in disguise for her. Once the war ended in her favor, she’d have a new country to play with—new nobles to tempt—and more power and influence.   

To everyone else, she was the victim. It was undeniable that something drastic had happened to her city. To further play it up, she had Mia reverse her spell and return the rubble and damage to how it had been before the 6-Star intervened.    

In her eyes, it was mere proof of the horrors and atrocities Uquenia had committed against the innocent Cridia.   

It was like that shrewd woman to alter a horrific event into something advantageous for her.    

I was chosen to command Cridia’s armies in this war, and my sister led the fight on the front lines. Tokko and Mia were standing a few dozen miles away, and Quella stood in one of the medical tents. Team Salim, Elly, and the other members of Quella’s team were in Junsa with Damon. Will had woken shortly after the incident, but his mind was shattered. He couldn't fight, so Lord Meruria ordered him to his estate in the Fairchild Duchy. Yes, it was close to the border—maybe 8 days away by horse, so he had explicit orders to use his demons if this assault turned into a retreat.   

But it wouldn’t.    

Soul Warriors were like nuclear bombs. They were held in reserve as a show of force and only unleashed when there was no other choice because using them always raised the stakes to the highest. To remedy that, we were disguised as men after Lord Meruria used her illusion magic. No one knew the truth except our summoner, who told the commanders and generals to follow our commands above all else.  

I didn’t want to do this, but Lord Meruria didn’t give us a choice. It was either this or death, and we weren’t willing to take our chances against Lord Meruria.  

Someday, though. We would test the mettle of Lord Meruria's resolve against our spear and katana. If that ended in our deaths, then so be it. It would be the end of our potential.   

But that day wouldn’t come any time soon.  

The quickest way to end a battle was to destroy the enemy’s commander. Leaderless, their armies would fall like a stack of playing cards. However, Lord Meruria ordered us to not show our powers first. We were only to respond in term.  

So, I decided to employ a blitzkrieg. However, under normal circumstances, the Cridia-Uquenia mountain path took weeks of travel from Junsa, but Holy Lord Meruria was a master of portals and teleportation. Before giving the raised army her blessing, she had Remy scout the plains near the border to play teleportation beacons our summoner had made, then used a mass teleportation skill to send us right to the front lines.    

In the blink of an eye, we were here, willing to battle. And the Uquenian capital city was a mere stone’s throw away from the border.  

But Uquenia’s army had been waiting. Only a fool wouldn’t make reservations in advance after they had launched the first strike. Lord Geron must’ve known about Lord Meruria’s mastery over portals and teleportations.    

It had been going on for about six hours. My sister was only using her iron spear—the most basic form of her Soul Weapon—without using any abilities. She was like a whirlwind of beauty and blood, carving through the enemies without allowing them to get close. Quella acted as a mere healer and nursed wounded soldiers back to health.    

Spells and skills galore trembled before my sister’s mighty strength. Carter sat beside me, his hands over the translucent controls used to manipulate his drones. He was ordered to deliver my orders to the company and squad commanders, and he did so with little issue.  

But I didn’t care much for him.  

He was a nasty man who spied on men and women using his ability. I’d have chosen Shuuta over him.  

The battle raged, although we clearly had the upper hand. The tactics my father forced me to learn were a dozen times more advanced than anything Uquenia’s commander had thrown at me. Even if we had half the soldiers, it was trivial to get the upper hand.   

Inch by inch, meter by meter, foot by foot... We managed to pass the border.  

And when we did...  

Lightning flooded the skies as a towering, thick bolt of surging power struck a wyvern knight, turning the two into bloody chunks. The raining crimson was electrified, and when they landed, they spread like wildfire, paralyzing everyone the shocks touched while outright killing the weaker ones.    

One of Uquenia’s Soul Warriors had emerged, and it was time to move to the second phase.    

---

“Is this what you wanted, Geron? Is this the future you desired for your country when you summoned us?” Mark Leafwing, a 4-Star Soul Warrior, stood in defiance of Holy Lord Geron, whose body oozed miasma instead of sweat. “You forced this upon yourself when you filled our bodies with your cursed poison.”  

The brave warrior stood tall and resolute, adorned in gleaming golden armor that radiated with an otherworldly brilliance. The polished surface of his breastplate reflected the surrounding light, creating an aura of regality and power. The intricate engravings etched across the armor depicted scenes of soaring flight-capable steeds, their wings outstretched and majestic, evoking a sense of awe-inspiring grace and freedom.  

As the man moved forward to lessen the distance between him and his lord, his every step seemed to carry the weight of the mythical creature itself. The armor hugged his form, accentuating his muscular physique and conveying an undeniable sense of strength and valor. From the grand helmet atop his head, golden plumes cascaded down, resembling the flowing mane of a winged-horse caught in a gust of wind.  

The gauntlets on his hands were adorned with ornate wing-shaped plates, the intricate details capturing the essence of the majestic creatures that inspired them.  

His greaves and boots were precisely crafted, their golden sheen matching the splendor of the rest of the armor. Etched onto the greaves were delicate motifs of wings, mirroring the winged steeds that soared through the realms of legend.  

Of course, the armor wasn’t ‘real’. It was an ability called [Essence of Pegasus]. Once canceled, he’d be back in his tunic.    

This state could rival Vincent Monopoly, an aged wizard from the last batch 60 years ago-- Geron’s last remaining Soul Warrior from his era—and the tutor for the new blood.  

Mark wasn’t alone. His fellow Soul Warriors stood behind him, although he was the only summon from his world. He lamented his loneliness. No one else who had attended the Tulmonia Adventuring Academy was summoned. No one even knew who Ulkimia was—everyone from his world prayed to their Almighty every morning and night.    

That didn’t happen here, but he continued the tradition.    

They were in the throne room, looking at the smoke and flames from the eastern window. The Cridia-Uquenia mountain path, the border that separated the two countries, was the purest definition of chaos.   

“Your soldiers are getting slaughtered. We told you this wasn’t a good idea, but you threatened us with death! Why?!” demanded a woman with black stars tattooed on her cheeks. As a 3-Star, she was weaker than their leader, Mark. She was also an assassin—everything from the daggers to the black color scheme of her bodice, cloak, tasteful sex appeal, and heels foreshadowed her profession before being summoned.   

It continued in this world.   

“Metica is right,” said Hugo, a dragon knight from another world who happened to be missing the vital element. He had the spear, though. It never left his person. “We did what you commanded. We snuck into the city and planted your magic circle using the camouflage you provided. We did it all. And as cowardly as it was, you’re our summoner. We trusted you, yet I see now that it was a mistake. Perhaps we should’ve risked death to kill you…”  

“You can still try it, but I’ll activate the miasma if you raise your blade against me…” Lord Geron finally spoke. His freckled face was so angry that miasma flowed from his pores and filled the room. This type was inert and harmless—not unlike the crude poison waiting in his Soul Warriors’ stomachs.   

Lulu, a witch, whined and hugged her broomstick. Mark reached a hand to her head and rubbed it. She looked up and tried to be brave, but it was hard.   

The ‘plan’ didn’t make sense.   

Nothing about it was tactical.   

Lord Geron was eccentric—odd and strange—and full of volatile emotion. He was also prone to bouts of fits. Almost like the dancing plague that happened in Mark’s village two years before he was summoned. That was before he was accepted into the Tulmonia Adventuring Academy and learned to care for magic beasts. 

Everyone argued vehemently when Lord Geron brought up the plan. How would they sneak into their eastern neighbor and plant a spell inside Lord Meruria’s church? Better yet, if the rumors were true, she was more powerful than Lord Geron. And her quality of Soul Warriors even more so. Mark had four other allies. Even the least trustworthy rumors hinted at their potential enemy having more than triple the otherworlders.  

“Lulu. It’s time for your act. Do what we had talked about. Let your mighty powers of lightning bring our enemies to their knees.”  

“Brother…?” Lulu looked at Mark. Her stereotypical pointy hat—proof of witches in this world, his world, and the one she came from—seemingly frowned.  He wasn’t her brother, but she was summoned from her tight-knit covenant from a reality that despised witches. In her village, everyone was family. Here? Mark was her elder brother, Metica, her aunt, and Hugo, her uncle. The duty-driven dragon knight acted like he didn’t care, but he did—Metica teased him about it, much to his chagrin.   

But Hugo loved that, too.    

Really, after what Lord Geron did—holding their lives in his hands—what other choice did they have? Either be alone and lose yourself, or further your relationship with your allies and endure it together.    

Lulu knew it was make-believe. But the young witch didn’t care. Mark was the same because his best friend enrolled in the Tulmonia Adventuring Academy to better herself as a witch.    

But she didn’t make the trip. Whatever powers at be didn’t see fit to pick her. Perhaps Mark saw a little of her in this strange, hyper young girl? He certainly wanted to keep her safe.    

“Don’t do this, Lord Geron! Please! This’ll only end— Uuugh!!!!” Mark clutched his chest and vomited a nasty mixture of dark miasma and bile.  

“Brother!”  

“Mark!”  

“This is madness, Lord Geron!” Hugo reflexively raised his spear. Oh, how he longed to have his dragon. Hugo was four days away from receiving an egg to care for in his world.    

Vincent Monopoly remained quiet. He rarely spoke. But he knew how his lord used to be. Sixty years ago, he was summoned. He was already middle-aged, and his 3-Star Soul didn’t slow his aging as much as he’d like.   

But Lord Geron…  

He never used to act like this. Something happened a few years ago. Perhaps it was when he lost his closest aid? The death of someone close often had drastic consequences on someone’s sanity.   

“No! Lulu!” Mark reached for the witch, but she knew what to do. She ran towards the window, holding onto her hat, and jumped on her broomstick. She flew through it, shattering the glass into a thousand fragments.  

Mark rushed to the window and shouted her name. Metica approached and rubbed his back. He looked at her and saw someone forced to serve the underbelly of the world she came from. While Lord Geron didn’t force her to continue, she couldn’t help herself. She had once said that once she was marked by sin, she'd never break free from its grasp, so it was more out of an obligation to punish herself rather than doing it to quench her lust.   

After cursing to himself, Mark pulled a spyglass from his pouch and looked at the window once more. He saw his Lulu as little more than a spec.   

But… As soon as Lulu displayed her power for the enemy, the gates of hell would open. Cridia’s Soul Warriors wouldn’t have a reason to hold back. Lord Meruria would be foolish to keep them in reserve. Sure, they could win. It wasn’t out of the question, but…   

Mark’s negative thoughts burrowed into the front of his mind. Even if it caused his death…could he kill their lord before he activated the miasma lying in wait within their bodies?  

If he displayed Lord Geron’s corpse, would Lord Meruria forgive Uquenia?   

But Mark could…also run away.    

He’d always been good at that.    

Truthfully, he had always been a selfish brat. It was a mystery why the magic beasts he loved to take care of enjoyed him so much. They were sensitive to emotion and sensed dishonestly, yet they radiated to him like moths to a flame.   

Even if he was a coward who ran away.   

Even if he used to steal and cheat to survive.   

Even if he wasn’t the best of friends to someone who loved him…  

Unicorns and other magic beasts kept coming to him whenever he walked in the fairy forest near his village.    

And he didn’t know why.    

And since coming to this new world, he had resolved to change himself. He’d be the best man for his best friend, whom he loved dearly.    

So he’d be someone worthy of the magic beasts that trusted him.    

You gotta fake it until you make it, Mark… Do it for her…  

He couldn’t leave and abandon his allies.    

Not if he wanted to be someone she could be proud of. She would be the greatest witch in the land, and he’d be her loyal protector and guardian as they etched their name into the Stone of Reverie. 

That was all Mark wanted after he arrived in this world. He knew it would be a terribly long wait before he could return to her. Lord Geron had promised him that. He’d made similar vows to Hugo and the others.    

It would take Lulu a few hours to reach the battlefield. Perhaps an hour if she pushed her broomstick to the limit.    

Lord Geron told everyone to prepare themselves for battle. And they didn't have a choice. Mark and his allies were forced to defend their miserable, violent, horrible lord’s capital city to the death.    

There was just no other choice but to pray for a miracle.   

Mark knew miracles didn’t exist here. If they did, someone would’ve killed their lord or protected them from his miasma.