The Cultural Festival.
As the Arnold Magic Academy’s Cultural Festival commenced, two men slipped past the perimeter and onto the grounds.
"Yo, Mors."
"...Para-san. What is that?"
Mors and Para. The two had come to scout the premises in anticipation of the day to come.
"Huh? Just some yakitori and corn. What's it look like?"
"...It looks delicious."
"You want a skewer?"
Para held out a stick of grilled chicken, and Mors accepted it.
"Thank you."
He took a bite.
The savory char of the chicken and the rich, sweet-salty glaze exploded across his palate. He finished it in seconds and tossed the wooden skewer into a nearby trash can.
"I see. It is indeed quite good."
"Right?"
Para grinned, continuing to work his way through the massive haul of food he had purchased. Of course, their primary objective wasn't to enjoy the festivities.
This was the groundwork.
They knew the final act would take place here, at this Academy. Or rather, one could say Mors was moving exactly as his opponent expected—dancing to their tune.
To ensure everything went according to plan, the two were using the festival as cover to re-familiarize themselves with the Academy’s layout.
"Well then."
"Oh? Going somewhere?"
"Let's go find Ray White."
"You actually know where he is?"
"Yes."
Mors pulled a flyer from his pocket. Para glanced at it, his expression twisting into one of pure skepticism.
"The hell? 'The Legendary Maid Appears'? What kind of joke is that?"
"According to the intelligence I've gathered, this 'Legendary Maid' is apparently Ray White."
Para let out a bark of laughter. "Hah! You’ve got to be kidding me! What, is he doing drag or something?"
"Let’s go see for ourselves."
Para initially dismissed the idea, assuming it was some childish prank. However, Mors led the way to the classroom to verify the report.
They didn't go inside; Mors wanted to avoid any premature contact.
And there, they saw her.
"Whoa, hold on. There’s one hell of a beauty in there. Is she a model?"
"No. That is Ray White. He is currently using the name Lily."
"What?"
"You'll understand if you probe his Prima Materia."
Para narrowed his eyes, focusing his senses until he caught a heartbeat's glimpse of the Prima Materia drifting from Lily.
His face immediately contorted.
"Are... are you for real?"
"Yes. It seems he is a practitioner of Metamorphose."
"...Metamorphose? You don't mean..."
"Indeed. It is Grand-tier magic."
"Holy... you've got to be kidding me."
Grand-tier magic sat at the absolute pinnacle of sorcery.
Metamorphose, the art of physical transfiguration, was so rare that it was categorized as such by default. The technical requirements were staggering. While the initial alteration was difficult enough, 'locking' that state into place was an even greater feat of magical engineering.
Ray achieved this by utilizing Lock—the very Essence of the Ice Sword. It was a feat possible only for the Ice Sword Sorcerer.
Of course, only a high-ranking sorcerer would ever be able to grasp just how anomalous his use of Metamorphose truly was.
"...Let’s go. This concludes the inspection for now."
"What about Rebecca Bradley?"
"She’s fine. By the time the day comes, they’ll have everything ready on their end."
"Hmph. Our enemies are awfully naive."
"...I certainly hope so."
Having finished their reconnaissance, the two returned to their hidden base.
"So, what’s the schedule for the big day?"
The veil of night descended, bringing with it the hour of darkness. Following their routine, the two headed into the basement to drink. Mors kept his intake moderate, while Para consumed his usual staggering amount of alcohol.
"Para-san, I’ll need you to handle Ray White when the time comes."
"And the timing?"
"Any time after Rebecca Bradley has been sealed is fine."
"And no one's gonna get in my way, right?"
"Correct. In her current state, she is of no use to anyone. Their plan likely involves using the Ice Sword's power to seal her away. That is the script they've written."
"Got it. So, after the seal is set, I kill the Ice Sword and secure Rebecca Bradley. Simple enough."
Mors took a long pull from his glass.
He set it down with a soft thud, his gaze sharpening to a lethal point.
"I’ve read their movements perfectly. It’s like a game of chess. I simply need to move each piece across the board of this Kingdom."
"They’ve got more pieces than we do, though."
"Yes. But you and I are more than enough to tip the scales. Besides, she is undoubtedly baiting me into a direct confrontation."
"And why’s that? You never did tell me."
Mors looked off into the distance, his eyes losing focus as he reached back into his memories.
"It is... a deep-seated grudge."
"From ten years ago?"
"Yes. She and I were lovers."
Para snorted. "What, so this is just some lovers' spat?"
"No. It is nothing so trivial."
Mors began to speak. He told the story of his past.
He explained why their mutual hatred had festered for an entire decade.
He laid everything bare.
Para listened in silence. It was the first time he had seen Mors show such raw emotion. He realized then that Mors’s thirst for revenge was the real thing—it wasn't some petty grievance. The karmic ties between those two could never be cleanly severed.
"...And that is the sum of it."
"I see. I get it now. I understand why you’re so obsessed with this. So, as long as we both do our jobs, we win?"
Para spoke with cold clarity. This sort of thing wasn't entirely rare in his line of work, but he finally felt he understood Mors's motivations.
"Yes. That is all there is to it."
"And the previous Ice Sword? What about Scorching and Illusion?"
"I’ll leave them to the mindless masses. Don't worry. I’ve prepared a private stage for each of them. They should be well aware of that by now."
"Whatever you say."
"Then, good luck."
With the final details shared, Mors and Para parted ways.
The path to the operation's conclusion was now clear and unobstructed.
All that remained was the execution.
Para left the basement, leaving Mors alone. Mors gripped his glass with a hand that trembled slightly.
Finally. He had finally made it this far.
To reach her—to settle the debt from ten years ago—he had finally arrived. He would kill her. He swore it.
With that final vow, Mors followed Para out of the basement.
Resonance.
The steady click-clack of boots against the floor echoed through the silence.
A massive network of emergency tunnels stretched out beneath Arnold Magic Academy. Knowledge of this space was restricted to the faculty and high-ranking sorcerers. However, these tunnels hadn't originally been built for emergencies.
In truth, the Academy had been built on top of this pre-existing underground complex.
Entry required a special key, which Mors possessed. It was a gift from her.
He navigated the space without difficulty, walking with a fixed, unwavering stare.
It was past 8:00 PM.
Para was surely already locked in combat with the Ice Sword. As Mors moved forward, a shadow appeared ahead.
A human silhouette.
He knew it.
Oh, he knew it only too well.
Mors recognized that figure instantly.
After all, the person standing before him shared his own face exactly.
"It’s been a long time. Are you going by the name Mors now?"
"..."
The figure spoke to him.
The voice was cheerful, sounding as if they were merely catching up over tea.
Mors stared back with dark, hollow eyes that seemed to reflect nothing at all.
"No, I should address you properly. It's been a while, Evan Bernstein."
"Yeah. Ten years, Lieselotte Eden. Or should I say..."
After a brief, heavy pause, Mors—the true Evan—spoke.
"—The Sorcerer of Fiction."
The moment he grinned, a violent torrent of Prima Materia flooded the tunnel. Lieselotte, who had been wearing Evan Bernstein’s face, shed her disguise and reverted to her true form.
"I wonder how long it's been since I've looked like this? Now then, Evan. Once again, it's been a long time."
"..."
The person standing there was now a total stranger.
She wore a jet-black long coat and matching boots. Her skin was as white as fresh snow, and her pure white hair flowed all the way down to her waist.
Despite her upbeat tone, her expression remained as static as a porcelain doll's.
Then, she offered a small, bright smile.
"Shall we try to kill each other again? Just like ten years ago."
The night deepened.
In the desolate underground where no one else remained, the ten-year-old grudge was finally about to be settled.