Alphonse stood with his arms folded behind his back, silently observing the battlefield from the observation deck of the Zephyros. The chaos unfolding below was far more intense than he had anticipated. Smoke curled upward from the eastern bastion, where elite mercenaries — hired blades and seasoned veterans — were being overwhelmed by what should have been nothing more than fledgling acolytes.

  These lowly defenders from a newly founded Magus academy fought with an almost fanatical resolve. They didn’t fear death. They welcomed it, trading their lives to drag his men down with them.

  “So even the strike unit failed to make a dent,” he murmured, though there was no anger in his tone. Just cold calculation.

  A nearby Merlin elder approached and bowed slightly. “Patriarch, our ground forces have sustained significant losses. The eastern bastion’s wall has taken damage, but the defenders remain... unnervingly steadfast.”

  Alphonse dismissed the report with a curt wave of his hand. “It doesn’t matter. Their barrier formation has been breached, and their defensive rhythm has been shattered. That is enough.”

  He turned toward the magic map projection at the center of the bridge — three blinking dots representing the bastions. The northern and southern bastions still held strong, their layered barriers shimmering like domes of light.

  “The ground battle was never meant to win. It’s just a warm-up,” Alphonse said coolly. “The true battle will be fought in the skies.”

  He snapped his fingers. “Redirect primary firepower to the northern and southern bastions. Squeeze them from all sides.”

  “Yes, Patriarch.”

  As the order rippled through the dirigibles, magic cannons began to recharge, ready to obliterate their targets.

  Alphonse narrowed his eyes. “Victor Asteriscus… that brat, is still hiding, I see. And the so-called Asteriscus family Magi haven’t made a move either.”

  He turned to the open skies and muttered, “What are you waiting for, boy? I know you’re watching. Are you afraid... or are you preparing something?”

  The sky rumbled in the distance, as if answering his provocation.

  No matter, Alphonse thought. If Victor wouldn’t come out willingly, then he would drag him out by tearing apart everything he’d built.

  Deep within the meditation chamber beneath the Headmaster’s Building, Victor sat cross-legged in absolute stillness. Around him, space rippled and bent, reacting to the immense mana pressure gathering within the room. His breathing remained calm and steady, yet the infused mana inside his body surged with increasing intensity.

  Inside his sea of consciousness, there was nothing except tranquilness. But then a spark began to take shape, drawing from the chaotic fusion of Cosmo and Chrono elemental energies swirling at his core. As the final strand of mana snapped into place, the spark flared to life.

  It was a sigil… Victor’s seventh sigil.

  His eyes snapped open, and the chamber shook violently as shockwaves of pressure rolled out, the stone floor cracking under the force of his breakthrough. But instead of joy, a trace of confusion crossed his face.

  “I didn’t become a Nexus Temporal Magus?” he muttered, checking his internal state.

  Indeed, he hadn’t crossed the threshold, yet his power had grown by leaps and bounds. At the center of it all was the newly formed sigil, which formed inside his sea of consciousness rather than etched upon his flesh like the others, bearing a pattern wholly unlike the previous six.

  “But how’s that even possible?”

  He had never once heard of anyone forming a seventh sigil — not in this kingdom, nor in any of the great Magus academies. Perhaps his understanding of Magi was still limited… but even so, this was unprecedented.

  Then it clicked.

  He recalled a passage from the ancient record within the library in the citadel — a record most dismissed as metaphor or fable. It spoke of the seventh sigil, which was a path beyond the normal six-sigil limit, only walked by a handful of extraordinary individuals throughout history. No recorded Magus in the past few millennia had ever succeeded in creating it.

  Until now.

  “…So that legend was true,” Victor whispered. “To think I’d be the one to walk that path.”

  He rose to his feet, energy surging through him like a river breaking free of its banks. The strength he now held wasn’t quite the leap from being an acolyte to an official Magus, but it was still tremendous — at least a few times greater than after forming a sigil.

  Now, it was time to return to the surface and show the world the meaning of true power.

  High above the sky, beyond even the Merlin fleet’s highest dirigibles, the academy’s sole vessel hovered silently like a phantom.

  You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

  Eleanor stood near the rear hatch, a toothy smile tugging at her lips as her dark brown hair danced in the wind swirling through the open airlock. The ship’s engines thrummed with a low, steady hum — barely audible against the tension filling the bay.

  “Altitude steady. Ten thousand feet,” one of her apprentice pilots reported from the bridge.

  “Good,” Eleanor said. She turned around to face the two hundred acolytes gathered in formation behind her, all geared up in reinforced jumpsuits, parachutes snugly strapped on, and bombs of varying degrees strapped to their vests — from dynamite sticks to carefully calibrated C4 bricks wrapped in mana-resistant seals.

  Some were first-stage Initiate Attunement acolytes, others at the second or even third stage. Every one of them bore the same look: grim excitement with a hint of madness.

  A few days prior, an acolyte named Satellite had approached her with a bold proposal to defeat an invasion force that would invade the academy. The plan was to use the academy’s dirigible and launch a surprise aerial assault by dropping these acolytes at the enemies’ dirigibles, each of them becoming a living payload of destruction. So, a sort of guided bomb, as far as Eleanor understood.

  But she agreed immediately. After all, she understood that all of these acolytes wouldn’t truly die. She was aware that they would get resurrected in the Nexus Tower in due time.

  But more than that, how could she possibly pass up something as reckless and exhilarating as this?

  “Final check,” she barked. “Parachutes functional?”

  “Ready!”

  “Explosives armed, and safety charms set?”

  “Ready!”

  Eleanor smiled faintly. “Then let me remind you — your job is to rain down hell on those floating tin cans. You know your targets. Prioritize their cannons, engines, and control commands. Try not to get yourselves turned into barbecue before you blow something up.”

  A few chuckles rippled through the group, but the people remained serious.

  Then, she turned back to the open hatch. Below them, the Merlin fleet looked like bloated wasps against the horizon — hovering in tight formation, unaware of what was coming.

  Eleanor looked at an acolyte with jet-black hair and a serious expression. He was the leader of the two hundred elite acolytes, or players, as Victor and little Lizzy called them, onboard. His name was StealthPeanut, and as strange as that name might have been, there was nothing lighthearted about the fire in his eyes. She gave him a single nod of confirmation.

  “Skyfall Team — GO!” StealthPeanut shouted before vaulting out of the hatch.

  A chorus of wild, excited cries followed.

  “Geronimooooo!”

  “GLORY TO THE ACADEMY!”

  “For Lillie!”

  “See you in the respawn zone, suckers!”

  “Leeeroy Jenkins!”

  One by one, the acolytes leapt into the void, disappearing into the clouds like falling stars. Black dots streaked downward, then parachutes bloomed moments later, billowing open like silent flowers in the sky. Despite the wind blowing most of them off course, these acolytes manipulated the elemental particles around them to aim themselves at the enemy’s dirigibles.

  Eleanor remained at the edge of the hatch, watching the acolytes descending fast. A single beat passed, then—

  Boom.

  An explosion appeared atop one of the dirigibles, sending a plume of fire and smoke into the air. Alarms echoed faintly even from this distance as the vessel began to tilt, smoke trailing from its hull.

  Then another explosion. And another.

  The surprise attack was working.

  Seeing the success, Eleanor smiled, but she was not done yet. There was still more to the plan that needed to be done.

  Alphonse was scrutinizing the ongoing assault as the bombardment on the southern bastion had begun to wear down the defenses. He was moments away from issuing the order to deploy the next wave of official Magi when a sudden explosion rocked the dirigible adjacent to the Zephyros — the flagship he was aboard.

  “What’s going on?!” he shouted.

  Almost immediately, the Zephyros itself shuddered under a powerful impact from above. Though the defensive spell formation absorbed the worst of the blast, the tremor shook the entire vessel, causing several people to stumble.

  “Multiple impacts reported across the fleet!” one of the officers shouted, pale with panic. “Hull breaches confirmed on two dirigibles — the Lambard and the Longinus! Explosions on the upper decks of nearly all ships!”

  Alphonse turned sharply toward the window and looked up.

  Dark dots were falling from the sky — small at first but growing rapidly. Parachutes flared to life, and then shapes became clear to Alphonse’s eyes. Acolytes. Hundreds of them. Each was strapped with explosives all over their body.

  “What in the seven hells is this?” he muttered, creasing his brows.

  Just then, a series of explosions ripped through the left flank of the closest dirigible. One of the descending acolytes had collided with a mid-tier dirigible’s propulsion core. Flames erupted, and the ship veered off course, smoke trailing behind it in a downward spiral as it was about to crash to the ground.

  “They’re suicide-bombing the fleet…” one Merlin elder whispered, pale-faced.

  They were bombing the Merlin family’s fleet… from above. How did they get above us? Where the hell did that academy get a dirigible capable enough to fly that high without detection?!

  Alphonse’s expression shifted sharply from stunned disbelief to seething fury. “Damn it! Attack those suicidal acolytes! Don’t let them get anywhere near the dirigibles!” he roared, fists clenched at his sides.

  “Deploy the Magi! Reinforce our top barriers! NOW!”

  At his command, the remaining dirigibles’ protective barriers expanded outward, forming thick, translucent domes of layered energy across their upper hulls and blimps. Additionally, magic circles activated and locked into place along the ships’ spines, forming reactive shielding formations designed to intercept projectiles and spells.

  From multiple decks, figures in long robes launched into the air — official Magi of the Merlin family and their allied forces. They soared swiftly above the dirigibles, elemental energy coalescing in their palms. Bolts of lightning crackled through the sky, arcs of flame lit up the clouds, and spears of ice sliced the air with lethal precision, all aimed at the descending acolytes.

  Yet it wasn’t enough.

  Although numerous acolytes perished before they could get close, with some exploding midair, they managed to dodge most of the attack with practiced precision. Each used elemental manipulation to redirect their descent, slipping between incoming spells with an agility that belied their low cultivation.

  “These maniacs… they’ve trained for this,” another officer muttered, aghast.

  After all, why would anyone willingly train to become a suicide bomber? At least, there was no way that these many acolytes would be willing to do this unless they were brainwashed or mind controlled.

  “Victor… Just where did you gather all of these people?” Alphonse’s voice was thick with rage.

  He slammed his hand down onto the control pedestal, triggering an emergency signal across the fleet. “Deploy all capable mages to the upper decks! I want those bastards intercepted and vaporized before they get anywhere near the ships!”

  But even as his orders echoed across the fleet… it was already too late for some. More parachutes bloomed above the fleet, dotting the skies like a deadly rain.

  They were everywhere. And they were coming down fast.

  Volume 1 and

  Volume 2 and

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