Chapter 6

  THE NIGHTMARE BENEATH HELL (2)

  In the remote outskirts of Arcadia City, deep within the dense forest, a massive explosion shattered the silence.

  Towering trees groaned and splintered as wild tornadoes of flame spiraled through the land, untamed. Leaves turned to ash midair, swirling like dying butterflies in the scorching wind.

  At the center of the inferno stood a lone figure — crimson coat billowing behind him, fists ablaze. His uniform marked him as a mage of the renowned Arcadia Mage Tower.

  Justin Arcaviel, one of the prospective heirs to the Tower Master’s seat, stood on the scorched earth, sweat streaming down his brow. This was his routine: honing his fire magic every day.

  He exhaled sharply, the air shimmering with heat.

  “―Again.” he called out loudly.

  Justin thrust his hands forward. A column of fire erupted, carving through the clearing.

  But just before he could twist his wrist and unleash the final surge—

  Something—a blur of white and brown—darted into the clearing.

  His eyes snapped wide. “What the hell—?!”

  A woman stumbled into the inferno’s path, her gaze fixed ahead, unaware of the firestorm rushing toward her.

  Without a moment’s hesitation, he lunged forward. The world slowed to a heartbeat.

  Everything blurred.

  “Get away!” Justin roared.

  In the final moment, Justin realized the woman wouldn’t make it out in time.

  There was no choice.

  He surged forward, unleashing his full firepower — flames erupting around him as he ignited his body like a living inferno.

  Just as the roaring firestorm closed in, Justin just managed to reach her.

  In a single, fluid motion, he extinguished the flames engulfing him and wrapped his arms around her waist. With all the momentum behind him, he launched them both away from the blast.

  Justin twisted midair to shield her. His back took the full brunt of the heat as his magic burst past them, exploding harmlessly against the distant trees.

  They crashed to the ground. His back hit first. But the girl in his arms was untouched.

  Beneath him, the woman gasped — wide-eyed, breathless, dirt streaked across her face.

  For a heartbeat, neither moved.

  Justin’s hand was still at her waist. While the woman’s fingers clutched at his sleeve, trembling, as if she could still feel the heat on her skin.

  Then—

  “Will you get off me already?!” the woman shrieked, shoving at his chest.

  “What—? I just saved your life!” Justin protested, stumbling back, his face flushed.

  “Saved me? More like flattened me! And nearly roasted me alive!” The woman commented after seeing the devastated state of her surroundings.

  Justin scowled. “Why the hell would you run into an active fire zone? Are you mad?!”

  “I was chasing after a rabbit!” the woman snapped. “It took one of my pouches — the one with the medicinal herbs I just spent the whole morning collecting! I will get that rabbit.”

  Justin blinked, deadpan. “...You ran into a firestorm. For a rabbit. Who ate your herbs?”

  “You’re one to talk!” she shot back. “What kind of lunatic sets off a magical firestorm in the middle of a forest?”

  Justin crossed his arms confidently. “This area is a designated training ground by the Mage Tower. I was doing my morning drills.”

  Justin looked her over: mud-splattered boots, a satchel covered with leaves and roots, hair tied back messily with a strip of leather. The woman looked like she’d just crawled out of an apothecary’s supply room.

  “Wait.” Justin said, brows furrowing. “You’re picking herbs? In Arcadia Capital, the city of magic? You can get healing potions and spells anywhere.”

  The woman looked deeply offended. “Not everyone has access to costly potions or can afford a good healer! Some of us have to work for our remedies!”

  Justin raised an eyebrow. “And you think that’s more efficient than magic?”

  “Shove it.” The woman glared. “I don’t need a lecture from a mage who burns down forests to train. You’re a menace.”

  “Fire magic requires precision and control—”

  “You mean destruction.”

  Justin opened his mouth to protest — but suddenly winced. A sharp pain lanced through his back. He staggered.

  “Hey,” the woman said, her tone shifting. “You okay?”

  Justin didn’t answer, more like he was unable to. His knees buckled.

  “Wait—!” The woman caught him as he dropped. “Oh no, no, no…”

  Justin’s burnt back now faced the woman as he leaned against her hands. Dark scorch marks stained his coat.

  As she peeled off the singed fabric, her breath hitched.

  His back was blistered, raw in places, and his skin was scorched.

  “You’re burned! Why didn’t you shield yourself?!”

  Panic flared in the woman’s voice.

  “Stubborn idiot...” she whispered, tearing into her pouch.

  …

  Sunlight filtered gently through the forest canopy, spreading patches of golden light across the scorched clearing.

  Justin stirred as he woke up. Pain flared in his back like molten iron pressed to skin.

  Without warning, cool fingers settled on his burns— gently, yet steady.

  He hissed. “What the hell—?!”

  “Don’t move.” came another voice, calm but firm. “I just spent an hour preparing those herbs.”

  Justin turned his head slightly. The woman he had rescued earlier knelt beside him, pressing a thick, greenish paste spread across a broad, smooth leaf—deep into his wounds with relentless care.

  Now that their bickering had stopped, he finally took a proper look at her — auburn-brown hair pulled back with a leather tie, eyes sharp with focus. There was a quiet confidence to her expression, something that reminded him of his sisters.

  “Ow—! Would it kill you to be a little gentler?!” Justin grumbled.

  The woman didn’t flinch. “Would you prefer an infection then?”

  “Why didn’t you just use magic?”

  A pause.

  “I mean,” he continued, “even a novice can manage basic healing.” Justin said, assuming the woman’s background as a healer.

  “I can’t.” The woman said flatly.

  “Well... I can’t use light magic either.” Justin blinked again, trying to make sense of it. “Then use a healing artifact. The Tower distributes those to civilians, right?”

  “Oh, they do. Lovely little trinkets, but they still require magic to activate. I don’t have magic.”

  “…You don’t have any magic, none at all?” Justin blinked.

  The woman looked away. “Go on. Say it. Laugh. That’s what everyone else does. A magicless girl in a city built on magic. I am a walking joke.”

  But Justin didn’t laugh. He slowly pushed himself into a seated position, wincing as pain flared through his back.

  “I see.” he said quietly. “I am sorry for being so insensitive to your situation and not realizing this earlier.”

  Justin’s eyes drifted to the pouches on her belt, stuffed with dried herbs and roots. He wondered if she worked at an apothecary in the commoner’s sector.

  The woman turned toward him, caught off guard.

  “I don’t need your pity.” she snapped.

  “I wasn’t offering any.”

  Their eyes met.

  “I was just wondering if there’s anything I can do to help.”

  The young woman arched a brow. “What, are you going to be my walking magic battery or something?”

  He considered it for a beat. “That’s… not possible.”

  “Exactly.” she said, folding her arms. “So why even bother? We’re strangers.”

  “I’m a Tower mage.” Justin replied, gesturing to his uniform and the glowing emblem over his chest. “Helping the people of this city is my duty.”

  She scoffed. “Since when do Tower mages take time off their research labs to help magicless peasants?”

  Justin leaned back, staring up at the sky through the trees.

  “It’s not about who has magic or not. It’s not my policy to ignore someone just because they weren’t born with power. Magic is supposed to make life better — for everyone. And I'm grateful. You have my respect—for being one of the few who still make medicine for those who need them.”

  The woman stared at him for a moment, unsure whether to believe him. No one had ever thanked her, much less acknowledge her for her efforts.

  Then she burst into laughter — sudden, unexpected.

  “You’re either noble... or incredibly stupid.”

  “Neither.” Justin said without missing a beat.

  “You really talk funny.” the woman said, breaking into laughter.

  “Are you making fun of me?”

  “Oh! Let me think about it.” she said, still smiling, caught somewhere between the man’s strange conviction and his awkward sincerity.

  And for some reason… that didn’t bother Justin at all.

  …

  Days passed. Then weeks.

  For reasons Justin couldn’t quite explain, the woman kept showing up every morning at his training grounds.

  Even though they hadn’t even exchanged their names.

  Sometimes she brought bizarre forest foods — things Justin would never imagine putting anywhere near his mouth.

  There were purple-spotted root vegetables that hissed when peeled, like they were letting out one final protest shriek before dying. She called them Screamroot Tubers.

  Glowing purple berries that looked like tiny cursed moons and caused mild hallucinations. Lunaspite Berries.

  A thick, gooey paste scraped from the leaves of the Wyrmleaf plant. “Only some are poisonous. But it’s usually fine. Probably. Unless they are a careless herbalist or an unlucky patient. Or both.” She claimed.

  These were the new herbs he tried in the last week itself.

  “Eat it. It’ll help circulate your magic more efficiently through your body.” The woman insisted one day, holding out a steaming bowl of something that looked like overcooked slime.

  Justin recoiled. “It’s moving.”

  “You’re being dramatic. Trust me, there’s only an eighty-nine percent chance they can be poisonous and I have never been wrong.”

  “…Those aren't very favorable odds for me.”

  Other days, she simply watched him train, solemnly seated on a fallen log like some sportscaster.

  “Ooh, that one looked like a dragon sneezing!”

  Justin whipped his head around, scowling. “Don’t insult my Dragon Breath spell.”

  “Oh, I do see some rabbits fainting over there. Must’ve been your terrifying dragon sneeze.” She just grinned and remained unrepentant.

  And sometimes… she was a walking catastrophe.

  Once, while Justin was mid-meditation, she tiptoed behind him and dropped a squirming frog down the back of his shirt.

  Justin shrieked, flailing as he bolted through the forest like a man possessed. She remembered laughing so hard she rolled off the log and fell into the bushes.

  Yet despite her chaos—or maybe because of it—something began to shift.

  The heavy weight Justin always carried — the pressure of being the next Tower Master, the endless expectations — began to lighten. Slowly. Quietly.

  When he trained alone, his mind was always filled with worries and self-doubt.

  But with her around? It was like the noise muted.

  Her laughter, her unpredictability, her infuriating habit of holding conversations with rabbits while at the same time insulting him… it all chipped away at the stone walls Justin had built around himself.

  And here, deep within the forest, surrounded by the scent of moss and fire-magic smoke, Justin felt something rare.

  He felt human.

  Not the little brother of prodigies. Not the heir to the Tower.

  Just… Justin.

  …

  Six months later…

  The girl stood at the edge of the clearing, a pouch of freshly gathered herbs in hand, making her way once more toward Justin’s usual training spot.

  She tucked a strand of windblown hair behind her ear, muttering to herself with a sly grin.

  “So, what should I feed him today? A sandwich loaded with soulrot weed or maybe some boiled direbeast intestines?” she muttered. “Eh, I’ll toss in both and see what happens.”

  As she stepped into the familiar training ground, a sudden wave of unnatural cold washed over her. The air turned sharp, biting, and the sky dimmed without warning, as if the sun had been swallowed.

  And the moment she saw him—her heart dropped.

  Justin lay collapsed on the ground.

  But this wasn’t like his usual post-training exhaustion. His breathing was ragged, shallow. His body trembled. Something was terribly wrong.

  The woman rushed forward.

  “Are you going to offer yourself for nothing or do as I say?” A deep, menacing voice called out.

  The woman looked up to see a giant man in a wide-brimmed cowboy hat, his arm swirling with a mass of black, cursed energy, aimed directly at Justin.

  “Not a chance.” Justin grunted, eyes closed as though bracing for death.

  “Get away from him!” the girl screamed.

  In a blur of motion, she hurled herself forward, positioning herself between Justin and the dark, ominous light. The blast struck her square in the chest.

  Her scream was muffled by the force of the impact—her body lifted from the ground and slammed down with a sickening thud.

  “No!!” Justin cried, reaching a hand toward her—but she was already on the ground.

  “Tch… Didn’t even see her.” the devil in the hat muttered, frowning. His eyes narrowed, realizing. “Haha… a magicless mutt. That’s why she slipped through my senses.”

  But it was already too late.

  The cursed energy had already taken hold of the woman’s body. Her body jerked violently, then collapsed to the ground like a lifeless rag doll.

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  Blood streamed from her eyes and nose as the curse took hold. With no magical resistance, the effects amplified, paralyzing her completely.

  Justin, barely conscious, lay nearby—blood smeared across his face, seeping from his skin, eyes, and mouth. He reached for her.

  “Justin… a―re you okay?” she whispered, lips trembling, even as blood dripped from her mouth.

  Justin froze.

  His name.

  She had never said his name before.

  He always thought… she didn’t know.

  He had assumed she was just another villager, too ignorant or too bold to recognize him.

  That she didn’t care.

  For Justin, it was better this way compared to those who were—drawn to him for his status.

  But in this moment, she had whispered it with a gentleness he didn’t understand.

  And now, seeing her crumpled beside him, something stirred in his chest.

  “I thought you didn’t know who I was…” Justin whispered, bitterly smiling through the pain.

  “―….”

  And that’s when it hit him.

  He had never asked for her name.

  Justin tried to stand.

  “Well, well. You can still move.” the cowboy-hat man sneered.

  “How touching.” the devil smirked, stepping beside the fallen girl. “Let me guess—this is that foolish human attachment you cling to. So, she is your weakness.”

  Dark smoke spiraled from beneath the brim of the cowboy’s hat, descending in twisting tendrils into the girl’s mouth and nose. Her body jolted. A low, eerie groan escaped her lips.

  “WHAT are you doing to her?!” Justin roared, dragging himself up despite the agony.

  The devil gave no answer. When the cursed energy dissipated, he casually tossed the girl’s limp body beside Justin like discarded meat, as if mocking him.

  As if to say: This is what your weakness earns you.

  She landed in his arms, blood staining his hands. Her skin was cold, trembling with cursed energy that pulsed under her skin.

  “Talk to me.” Justin whispered desperately, cradling her body in his arms, gently shaking her, rubbing her hands for warmth that wouldn’t return. “Please… say something.”

  Justin’s head snapped up.

  The devil tilted his head, amused.

  “Where’s all that defiance now? You were talking back to me even when your body was breaking apart. Now look at you— desperately clinging to a dying girl.” His voice darkened, sinking into a low, menacing growl. “But you know what I want.”

  Justin remained silent, jaw clenched.

  “Six months. That’s all she has. The death-curse I’ve placed on her will rot her soul piece by piece. I'm sure you’ll make the right decision.”

  “…The Grimoire of Hollow.” Justin said, his voice bitter.

  “Good.” The devil grinned. “I’ll be back soon.”

  And with that, the devil vanished.

  As the clearing returned to silence. Justin sat there, holding the girl close, her faint breath against his chest. His hands trembled—not from pain, but guilt.

  He blamed himself for everything because he was not strong enough to protect anything.

  “This is my fault,” Justin screamed to the heavens.

  …

  From that moment on, Justin began studying dark magic—his only hope to break the curse placed on the woman.

  Light had already failed him. He had called upon the sacred priests of the Temple of Arcadia, summoned the best of magic healers and herbalists.

  But nothing reached her.

  Every healer and light magician had given up. Claiming the girl was ‘magicless’—and that light magic simply did not respond to her. Only the Saintess, blessed with innate divine powers, could have healed someone suffering from such a devastating death curse that left its victim in a coma.

  But Justin refused to endanger anyone else. He withdrew from his allies, and peers. Refusing to seek help—not from the Tower Master, nor from his own sisters. Not when a creature as powerful as a devil was involved.

  Justin didn’t want to drag them into this. He didn’t want to lose anyone else.

  “I will bring you back.” he had whispered again and again, like a prayer etched into his soul.

  And so, with only himself to rely on, he turned to cursed tomes and forbidden grimoires, desperately trying to learn how to lift the curse, prolong her life, or save her by any means possible.

  He dabbled in dark magic, even sacrificial rituals.

  But nothing worked.

  When every path had closed on him, he discovered a grim possibility: a powerful curse could be overridden only by an even stronger force.

  As a last resort, Justin resolved to seek out the Grimoire of Hollow—the greatest curse ever recorded. If he could gain control over it, perhaps he could use its energy to overpower the death curse that clung to her.

  Even if the odds were minimal, it was still better than watching her die—or letting the devil claim the book.

  So, two weeks before the end of the six-month period, Justin descended into the last sealed floor of the dungeon beneath the Magic Tower.

  He carried the woman’s comatose body in his arms. Her skin had grown cold, her color fading to a ghostly pale—so close to death that the curse had begun to seep into the air around her.

  “I… never even asked your name.” Justin whispered, cradling her closer as if she might wake at any moment and call out to him in his pitiful state. His voice cracked, thick with guilt and desperation. “But, you knew mine all along…”

  Justin still remembered, with aching clarity, the first time she called his name.

  To him, it always felt like everything was his fault—for not being strong enough.

  He longed to hear her voice again, calling his name, and to finally ask for hers.

  “If only… if only I had been stronger,” he choked, his voice breaking under the weight of guilt. “I just want to hear it again… just once. My name… from your lips. And yours… so I can remember it when this is over.”

  He gave one final look at her closed eyes—the woman who had once saved him, shielding him with her magicless body.

  Now, it was his turn to return the favor.

  Even if it meant becoming the villain in every book ever written.

  Justin turned to look at the giant seal in front of him. He then pressed his emblem into the stone wall, and the seal quaked.

  The ancient gate creaked open. Inside, resting atop a dark altar, was the infamous Grimoire, chained.

  Justin stepped forward—only to be stopped in his tracks by a wave of dense, black miasma. His limbs froze, paralyzed by the overwhelming presence.

  The cursed book began to stir. The chains rattled violently, then snapped. The Grimoire rose on its own, dark energy pulsing from its cover.

  “It was supposed to be asleep.” Justin muttered through clenched teeth. “That’s what the records said… How is it awake?”

  He reacted immediately, hurling a burst of fire magic aura to suppress it—but the flames were repelled, swallowed by the malevolent aura.

  Then, with a metallic shriek, a grotesque eye opened on the surface of the book.

  A blinding beam of curse energy surged toward Justin.

  He couldn’t move. Was this it? Was he about to fail again?

  But just before the beam struck him, a massive, flaming knight—forged from living fire—descended, shielding him with its burning armor.

  “Justin! Get out of here—now!”

  Justin’s eyes widened in disbelief. That voice—he knew it. He would know it anywhere.

  “Father…?”

  He recognized the signature—phantasmal fire magic the Tower Master possessed.

  “What are you doing here?” Justin choked out, stunned.

  “Boy, get out—now’s not the time for questions!” the Tower Master roared, eyes narrowing as he spotted the woman’s comatose body resting inside a secure pod.

  Only then did he fully understand why his son was so desperate.

  His expression softened, just for a heartbeat.

  Then he shut his eyes. When he opened them again, they were burning with ironclad resolve.

  “Go.” His tone left no room for defiance. “Justin. I’ll take care of this. You still have a chance, then she also still has a chance.”

  Phantasmal fire chains erupted around the Tower Master, snaking through the air as they tried to bind the awakened Grimoire and suppress its dark energy.

  Justin could feel it in his bones—if there was anyone in the entire kingdom capable of containing the Grimoire of Hollow, it was him. Arcadia’s Tower Master.

  The shattered chains that were holding the grimoire began to reform, glowing red-hot as the Tower Master reforged them through pure will and fire magic, smelting each broken link into place.

  But something was wrong. He could feel it—an unnatural resistance, a foul intent deeper than before.

  The Grimoire pulsed with a wicked awareness.

  And then, it grinned.

  A slow, grotesque smirk tore open on the Grimoire’s cover.

  “No—” the Tower Master muttered.

  A thunderclap of black magic exploded from the grimoire’s core. The walls cracked. The floor split. Waves of corrosive miasma surged like a tidal wave of death, flooding the chamber.

  The blast hurled the Tower Master away from the altar, slamming him into the inner sanctum.

  Justin, who had also been thrown out of the sealed wall area, staggered forward, coughing through the corruption in the air. He sprinted back toward the sealed wall to get close to his father—only to stop cold.

  From within the smoke, black spikes of pure miasma—shot out and pierced the Tower Master’s body. One through the shoulder. Another through the chest. A third through the side.

  Blood hissed as it hit the flaming floor.

  The Tower Master coughed, his body barely holding together under the strain. Yet he raised his hand once more.

  “―Father!” Justin shouted, voice cracking with fear.

  But before his consciousness faded, the Tower Master summoned the last of his power. A colossal phantasmal creature—formed entirely from roaring fire—rose from the ground.

  The giant made of fire stormed toward the sealing gates, slamming them shut with titanic force. Flames poured into the cracks, melting the stone edges, then rapidly cooling into a hardened seal.

  The gate to the Grimoire’s chamber slammed shut once more, leaving Justin out—alone—while the Grimoire, the Tower Master, and the woman he had sworn to save were locked inside.

  ◇◇◇

  In the present moment, the very wall that had sealed shut before Justin’s eyes—trapping his father and the woman who sacrificed her life to save him—lay cracked and open.

  From its shadow emerged his father, who now stood before him as his enemy, holding the Grimoire of Hollows. The cursed tome pulsed with dark energy, controlling the Tower Master— a waking nightmare for everyone present.

  “Justin? What are you doing? Snap out of it!” Lilliana called, her voice strained as she staggered to her feet after blocking the Tower Master’s attack.

  “We’re with you, Justin. You don’t have to bear this alone!” Fillia added, stepping forward. “No matter what you’ve done or why—we’ll hear you later. But right now, your family needs you. Help us stop this abominable curse book!”

  Justin’s ragged breathing slowed as Fillia’s words pierced through the fog clouding his heart, halting the trembling of his hands.

  But the Grimoire did not allow them time to recover.

  Under its influence, the Tower Master summoned a legion of phantasmal beasts—each one wreathed in a vile black miasma that amplified their power. Each beast that emerged was stronger, faster, nearly impervious.

  Fillia’s eyes narrowed, her hand clenching around her staff. “So be it.”

  With a spin and a fierce stomp, she raised her voice, completing the chant she was preparing just in case if trouble found them. “Azalea Combustion!”

  A swirling storm of fire burst around her, each flame forming the shape of a delicate pink petal. Each fiery blossom locked onto a target, streaking through the battlefield like homing stars.

  BOOM—BOOM—BOOM!

  With every impact, the beasts’ spectral shells destabilized, revealing glowing, flickering dark cores—each one a weak point begging to be shattered.

  “Allow me to grant them the honor.” With a burst of speed that blurred like a streak of light, Lilliana charged forward.

  Like lightning, Lilliana vanished from view, dashing across the scorched battlefield. Her form shimmered as if light itself had taken human shape, blazing through the hoard of flame beats.

  “Flashpoint Touch!”

  Her blade ignited in radiant white flame. As she struck, the holy magic surged through her sword in a luminous arc— it pierced the black, hazy cores of the phantasmal beasts.

  One by one, they howled and vanished, snuffed out like candle flames. Their bodies dissolving into ash and embers.

  But for every beast they felled, more came.

  The Grimoire of Hollows flared with fury. The black pages turned of their own accord, summoning even greater numbers—larger, stronger, and infused with even more miasma.

  And then… it shifted focus.

  The book opened wide. From its center, a crooked mouth formed out of curling ink. It hissed like a thousand curses in unison.

  “You… were the brat who dared unseal me. Let me thank you by giving you a swift, crisp death.” The book spoke with its crooked mouth.

  “Justin, get away!”

  Both Lilliana and Fillia screamed, their voices overlapping in desperation as they tried to push through the growing tide of monsters. But their path was blocked.

  The grimoire pulsed with malevolence, drawing in infernal energy from the Tower Master’s body. A beam of condensed hellfire began to form, swirling with catastrophic force.

  In the next moment, a colossal ray of destruction, tearing through space, was launched at Justin.

  Justin… did not move.

  With his eyes cast downward, Justin slowly opened his arms wide... as if embracing death itself.

  “So, you’ve given up?” the Grimoire hissed, delighting in the moment. “It’s always satisfying to watch humans break.”

  But something unexpected happened.

  There was no explosion.

  Instead—all the flames stopped. Mid-air. Converging.

  The inferno compressed—drawn inward, spiraling into a single point between Justin’s open hands. A fiery vortex formed at the center, the flames refusing to lash out.

  “You fool... No human can contain that kind of fire!” the Grimoire snarled, and surged the blast even further.

  But Justin didn’t fall.

  Though his knees trembled, his boots dragged into the dirt, and his cloak caught fire at the edges—he held on. Further compressing and enduring the flames.

  His hair whipped in the wind, his face hidden in shadow, and then—

  CRACK!

  The last of the flame collapsed inward.

  A deathly silence followed.

  The smoke parted.

  Justin held his ground, unmoving—even as the blast’s final wave surged against him. His upper body arched back under the pressure, nearly toppling him, yet he didn’t fall.

  “…”

  All eyes were fixed on him.

  Fillia’s fists clenched. Lilliana’s lips moved in a silent prayer.

  The Grimoire of Hollows watched with anticipation—for his destruction.

  But then—Justin’s eyes ignited.

  Twin flares, blazing with defiance, roared to life.

  “Let me see you try!” Justin shouted.

  In a snap, like a spring recoiling, his body snapped upright—and with a guttural roar, he unleashed a titanic burst of flame, an inferno spiraling like a dragon straight at the Grimoire.

  WHOOSH!

  The flames tore through the air, and the radiating light turned even the damp, dark walls of the dungeon a fiery orange.

  “Damn you—!” The Grimoire’s crooked mouth twisted in alarm.

  Drawing upon the Tower Master’s elemental core, the grimoire summoned a compressed wall of superheated air, bending it into a spiraling vortex shield. The flames collided with a deafening boom, diffusing in waves—but not before the Grimoire’s barrier cracked at the edges.

  From behind the chaos, Lilliana watched in awe.

  “Nice going, little brother.” she whispered, a proud grin forming.

  Fillia crossed her arms, her voice full of sisterly pride.

  “I was a little worried.” she admitted, “But this result was obvious. I might have the highest explosive output, and Lilliana here is unmatched in precision light convergence…” Fillia raised a hand, a flickering ember dancing on her palm. “Justin has the greatest control over flame magic.”

  It was less a statement—more of a declaration.

  As if introducing their family to an old enemy.

  The Grimoire’s mouth curled in disdain, pages rustling like dry laughter.

  “I see… this man has raised prodigies. How delightful.” Its voice lowered into a growl, thick with loathing as it continued to speak. “But don’t delude yourselves, insects. Your flames are nothing more than pitiful sparks. While I have got an infinite pool of mana to draw from. And once I am out of here, I will take over this world and consume everything.” The grimoire of Hollow declared.

  “Big sis, what’s the plan?” Lilliana asked, glancing toward Fillia.

  Fillia’s expression hardened. “I’m afraid… I can’t directly engage with Father or the Grimoire of Hollows.”

  “What?” Lilliana’s eyes widened with confusion. “Why not—?”

  Before Lilliana could explain herself, the Grimoire of Hollows let out a guttural, mocking laugh.

  “Hah! So, you did figure it out.” The grimoire hissed, its crooked mouth stretched unnaturally wide across its face. “You are a sharp one. Even if your explosions are a bit dangerous, it changes nothing.”

  Lilliana’s eyes narrowed. The realization struck her like a bolt of lightning.

  She remembered what this twisted book had done before—and what it was planning now.

  The Tower Master’s magic allowed him to summon phantasmal fire creatures at will. With the Grimoire’s bottomless well of dark mana, it now had the perfect vessel to spawn an endless army of phantasmal creatures from his flame magic.

  The grimoire wasn’t just planning to destroy them—it was preparing to raze the entire city and beyond.

  Once outside this sealed chamber, with the remnants of the magic seal completely broken, the grimoire’s curse would be unstoppable.

  But… for now, there was still one advantage.

  This broken ruin was their only saving grace. The seal, though fractured, still partially suppressed the Grimoire’s movements. As the entire dungeon was built to restrain the cursed grimoire.

  And in this cramped, collapsing battlefield, it couldn’t fight at full strength.

  The grimoire’s movements were limited. And most importantly, its mental control couldn't affect them—thanks to their high resistance to curse-based magic.

  This place, this ruined battlefield, was the final line of defense.

  They were the last ones standing between the Grimoire of Hollows and the outside world.

  And no help was coming.

  The mages who once filled the tower had already fallen under the curse’s influence. Reinforcements were not only unlikely—they would have become enemies by the time they arrived.

  So, Fillia could come up with only one conclusion to keep the Grimoire of Hollows restrained here and figure out a way to seal it or destroy it with only the three of them.

  But would that work? Were they strong enough? Fillia still couldn’t be sure. Not when her father had already fallen to the curse of the grimoire.

  Justin stepped forward, fists clenched, flames crackling at his fingertips.

  “Don’t worry, big sis.” he said. His voice was steady, resolute. “I’ll take care of everything. I’ll protect everyone—this time, I won’t fail.”

  Fillia met his gaze—and smiled.

  “Good,” Fillia said softly. Her tone shifted—calm, confident, dangerous. “Because I’ve already figured out how we can win.”

  The only reason the Grimoire of Hollows had managed to take control of the Tower Master was its prolonged, parasitic contact with him—like a curse festering over time.

  But Fillia knew the truth.

  If they could separate the two—even for a moment—Fillia was certain their father would regain his senses. And with the four of them united, they would have just enough strength to reseal the Grimoire for good.

  She turned to her siblings, eyes burning with resolve.

  “Here’s the plan,” Fillia said firmly. “I’ll hold the phantasmal creatures at bay—disrupt their movements and blow them to bits. Once their cores are exposed, Lilliana, you’ll engage them directly and finish them off. And Justin…”

  She looked at him directly.

  “Your job is to rip that cursed book out of Father’s hands. If we can sever that connection, he’ll return to us.”

  “Got it.” Justin nodded.

  “Let’s end this.” Lilliana said, already in motion.

  She shot forward like a comet. The ground beneath her sizzled as she skidded across the scorched ruins, weaving through the blazing monstrosities summoned by the grimoire.

  Then—a flash.

  Fillia had already started casting her homing explosion magic to blow the giant colossal army of fire monsters and giants to bits.

  “Flareburst: Scatter Array!”

  A radiant burst of holy fire erupted from Lilliana’s blade, even making the beings made of flame flinch, recoiling from the overwhelming purity of her magic.

  Lilliana didn’t stop.

  She danced between them, conjuring blasts of fire and light, slicing through the air with lethal grace.

  A salvo of explosive of explosion fire flowers, detonated one by one amidst the phantasmal horde. Yet none of it touched Lilliana.

  And amid it all, Justin charged forward—eyes locked on the Tower Master’s distorted silhouette. The cursed book clung to his chest like a parasite, dark tendrils of shadow coiling around his arms.

  The Grimoire of Hollows noticed.

  “So that’s your plan.” it sneered. “You think a weak human like you can take me on alone?”

  Justin didn’t answer.

  He pushed through the fire, dodging a swipe from a flaming beast, rolling under a jet of cursed flame, his hands glowing brighter with each step.

  This time… he would not hesitate.

  This time… he would save his father.

  As Justin closed the distance, only meters away from the Grimoire of Hollows, he activated his magic.

  Unlike Fillia, a long-range spellcaster, or his father, a master of summoned phantasmal flame beasts. And unlike Lilliana, who had adapted her fiery magic into swordsmanship—Justin had chosen a different path.

  After relentless training and countless failures, he had discovered his strength as a close-combat flame mage.

  “Flame Dragon Aura.”

  With a flash of red light, Justin's body was instantly engulfed in a shroud of roaring flame. But unlike the wild, destructive nature typical of flame magic, Justin’s aura pulsed with focused intensity—calm, controlled, and unwavering.

  He was now like an embodiment of flame itself.

  The moment the Grimoire sensed the threat in Justin’s fearless advance, it reacted.

  The cursed grimoire quickly activated the Tower Master’s defensive specialty: Flamecore Bastion—a field of concentrated hot air surrounding him from all sides, invisible but deadly.

  It was a unique spell their father had crafted to protect himself while producing his phantasmal summons.

  A dome of invisible, pressurized heat enveloped the Tower Master. It was an incinerating field of compressed air that vaporized magic particles and repelled physical attacks with burning force. Even being near it could melt metal.

  Neither spell nor blade had ever pierced it.

  The grimoire was confident: “He’ll burn before he even touches it.”

  The Grimoire of Hollows smirked, fully expecting Justin to fall before even landing a blow.

  But Justin didn’t stop.

  His eyes glowed with determination as he drove his fist forward.

  And then—

  Justin’s fist collided with the barrier.

  The moment his knuckles touched the barrier, the aura around his hand flared violently, burning brighter than ever before.

  A shockwave rippled out. Sparks danced in the air as the heat from his aura clashed against the superheated field. Against all odds, a visible crack appeared in the invisible barrier.

  Justin’s aura prevailed, if only for a moment.

  The Grimoire’s expression shifted.

  Justin kept on increasing the force behind his punches, breathing steadily, his Flame Dragon Aura shielding him from the unbearable heat. His skin shimmered with sweat, but his eyes burned with unshakable resolve.

  But the superheated barrier still stood—only a single crack marring its surface.

  “So, what if you can conjure an aura?” the Grimoire sneered. “You’re no stronger than a candle’s flicker.”

  Justin gritted his teeth and stepped forward again, voice steady.

  “Then let me show you... just how bright these flames can burn.”

  In that instant, flames erupted from Justin’s legs, propelling him forward like a meteor.

  And then—

  BOOM.

  A deafening shockwave echoed through the ruined chamber like thunder. The moment passed in an instant, but everyone felt it. Justin's fist had grazed the Tower Master’s face.

  The invisible shield, once believed to be impenetrable, shattered.

  He had done the impossible, breaking through the Tower Master’s strongest defense. A feat no one else had achieved till now.

  “W-What…?!” The Grimoire of Hollows' voice cracked with rage and disbelief. “How dare you…?! How dare you?!”

  It unleashed a volley of explosive flame bolts, the chamber lighting up in violent reds and oranges. Each blast was meant to incinerate on contact.

  But Justin wasn’t fazed.

  His mind was clear. His movements—refined and honed through years of training—were faster than the Grimoire’s casting. He weaved between attacks, dodging every blast with impossible speed, the aftershocks crackling behind him.

  And all the while, he advanced—closer, step by step.

  Each time he closed in, his fists struck with dragon-like force. The Grimoire found itself repeatedly forced back, narrowly avoiding having itself snatched from its host’s grasps.

  The all-powerful cursed grimoire, once feared across the continent, was being completely outpaced and outmaneuvered—by a human.

  It now felt like Justin was just toying with the Grimoire of Hollows, completely dominating the match.

  ◇◇◇

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