Wizard: The Emperor of Magic.

Author Note

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Chapter 16

Standing there, wand in hand, I could barely stay upright.

The pain pulsing through my body was overwhelming, a throbbing, searing tide crashing through my nerves with every breath I took.

My knees threatened to buckle, but I refused to fall—not yet.

I stared at the destruction left behind by my spell, the scorched earth and flickering remnants of mana painting a picture of both victory and cost.

Then, without warning, a ripple formed in the air ahead of me.

She appeared.

A woman, silent and elegant, walked forward through the smoke.

Long, obsidian-black hair cascaded down her back, swaying gently with each step.

Her violet eyes gleamed like distant galaxies—beautiful, cold, and impossibly deep.

Every step she took made the very air tremble, pressure rising with each movement.

The world felt heavier.

Denser.

More suffocating.

Somewhere close, Ryler stood in front of Olivia and the terrified driver, his sword drawn but lowered.

His eyes weren't on the destruction—they were on her.

He wasn't afraid for himself.

He was afraid for me.

Her presence buzzed in the air, unmistakably oppressive.

A Tier 4 - Grand Mage.

Her mana wasn't just power—it was dominance.

She had already silenced the area, destroying the recording artifact mid-broadcast, severing any chance of this confrontation reaching the outside world.

Now, no one could see what would happen next.

She stopped only a few feet away from me, and I could feel every ounce of her pressure pressing down like a mountain.

Ryler didn't move.

He couldn't.

I had told him not to interfere—not under any circumstances.

Because if he did… if the Silvery Family even looked like they knew too much… they'd all be wiped out.

No warning.

No trial.

Just erased.

She stepped closer.

Inches away.

My legs shook, not from fear, but from the exhaustion and pain burning through every limb.

Her eyes met mine.

Slowly, she removed her mask.

Behind it was a face I knew—sharp yet elegant, youthful yet ancient in expression.

A woman in her early twenties, maybe, with flawless pale skin and that unnerving smile curling at the corners of her lips.

She reached out and gently touched my cheek, her fingers cold and soft.

"My dear Lucas," she whispered, her voice like a melody soaked in danger, "it's been some time."

There was no kindness in her gaze, only interest.

The kind you'd show a wild animal that had unexpectedly learned to play chess.

"Did you really think," she murmured, her voice just loud enough for me to hear, "you could steal from us?"

I didn't answer.

I couldn't.

My jaw clenched tight from the pain.

"But," she continued, tilting her head slightly, "you did impress me today. That was a performance for the ages. If I hadn't stepped in to save those two idiots… well, you would've turned them into ash."

She chuckled, then placed a hand on my chest.

Her fingers brushed against the necklace I wore—the artifact of protection, the one that held two precious lives.

"You already used the second life," she said softly, her voice laced with disappointment. "Do you know how hard it is to restore both? The craftsmanship… the cost…"

With a sigh, she gripped the necklace and tore it off in one swift motion.

Pain exploded through my chest.

I let out a muffled groan, stumbling a half-step forward before catching myself.

"One watched your fight," she said. "He was… impressed too." Her smile deepened, predatory and amused. "He said he'll be in touch."

She leaned in.

Her lips grazed mine for the briefest moment—not a kiss, but a taste.

She licked the blood from the corner of my mouth like a snake savoring a drop of wine.

"Stay safe, my dear Lucas. Welcome to Altherion."

Her voice dropped lower, becoming a whisper only I could hear.

"I'll come for you when the time is right. Until then, grow stronger. And don't think of running or refusing. You know you can't."

She pulled her mask back on, her expression vanishing beneath the cold facade.

Then—space twisted.

The air shimmered like heatwaves on stone, and she vanished.

Gone.

I exhaled, my vision beginning to tunnel.

My legs finally gave out, the pain too much to bear now that the pressure had lifted.

Well, I thought as the world darkened around me, that ended worse than I'd hoped.

This was one of the many possibilities I'd predicted… and I had desperately hoped it wouldn't come to this.

But fate—no, they—didn't care about my hopes.

Still… even if it was life-threatening, the battle had been exhilarating.

The chaos, the power, the moment of victory—even if brief—it was real.

Darkness crept into the edges of my vision.

And then everything went black.

Ryler caught me just before my body hit the ground, gently lowering me down as my wand slipped from my fingers.

His arms trembled—not from fear, but from relief.

Olivia appeared beside him a heartbeat later, her face pale and her breath sharp.

"Is he okay?" she asked, her voice shaky as she looked down at my bloodied form.

Ryler smiled faintly, brushing a hand through Lucas's blood-matted hair as Olivia knelt beside him.

"Don't worry," he said, his voice calm despite the storm in his chest. "He'll survive. And a healer's already on the way. He's going to be okay."

Somewhere Far Away

High atop a jagged mountain peak, where the winds howled like beasts and the skies were heavy with mana, space twisted—and the masked woman emerged.

Beside her, floating limply in the air, were the unconscious forms of the two combatants who had fought Lucas: the mage and the knight.

Their bodies were bruised and scorched from the earlier clash, knocked out cold by the shockwave of Lucas's final spell.

Before they could be consumed by the aftermath, the woman had activated a spatial displacement spell, whisking them all away just moments before the battlefield collapsed into chaos.

Now they stood—well, she stood—facing a towering figure silhouetted against the horizon.

He was a mountain of a man, broad-shouldered and tall, yet not bulky.

His build was lean, powerful, forged like a weapon over years of combat.

A long coat fluttered in the wind, concealing the layers of muscle beneath.

A massive sword rested across his back, its hilt wrapped in crimson cloth.

He didn't move, but his presence was undeniable—calm, composed, dangerous.

A Tier 5 – Platinum Knight.

Lisa—the masked woman—crossed her arms, staring at him with a touch of annoyance and amusement.

"Well, those two were useless," she said flatly, gesturing toward the unconscious bodies behind her.

"But… we still got the artifact."

The man turned slightly, his dark blue hair tousled by the wind, revealing cold black eyes that burned with calculation.

"Why is he still alive?" he asked simply.

There was no accusation in his tone—just curiosity sharpened to a blade.

Lisa smirked under her mask. "Oh? Since when did you care about weaklings surviving? Or... maybe your attention's really on his brother?"

The man, Number Three, didn't answer immediately.

Instead, he turned his gaze from the mountainscape back to her, his expression unreadable.

For a moment, the tension in his eyes softened—barely, but noticeably.

"You got me," he said with a sheepish grin. "But the kid… Ryler, right? He does look like a promising swordsman."

He stretched his arms behind his head lazily and added with a casual tone, "Don't you think so, Lisa?"

Lisa's eyes narrowed. "We're on a mission. Don't call me by name."

"Ohhh, sorry." He chuckled. "You're right. Let's keep it formal, Number Two."

Her annoyance deepened, but she didn't press further.

Number Three glanced again at the distant horizon. "From the reports, Ryler is supposed to be the strongest swordsman in the Sky Empire… well, aside from his father. Apparently, he left the Silvery Family because he wants to fight his old man someday—when the stakes are real."

Lisa nodded. "It's true. He's obsessed with surpassing him. A noble cause, perhaps. But it makes him dangerous. Focused. And... unpredictable."

"Ohhh, interesting." Number Three's eyes lit up. "If we meet again, I must test his sword. For research, of course."

Lisa didn't humor the comment.

Instead, her gaze turned sharp.

"But you still haven't answered the real question," he added, tilting his head. "Why did you let Lucas live?"

Lisa looked at him for a moment, her expression unreadable behind the mask.

Then she answered coolly:

"Because One told me to."

That silenced him for a beat.

"Now that is interesting," he finally said, lips curling into a grin.

"Number Two taking orders from Number One. Must be because he's reached Tier 5, huh?"

Lisa's hand clenched slightly, a spark of irritation slipping through. "Shut your mouth. I'm only a month away. Just one more month and I'll reach Tier 5 too. When that happens, he won't be able to claim the Zero Seat so easily."

Number Three laughed—a deep, relaxed sound. "I look forward to it. But you know… for someone as ambitious as you, Lisa, you seem very patient, waiting your turn."

She turned her glare on him, but he just smiled as he continued.

"The Number One Ranking should be ours, don't you think?" he said, voice musing. "And yet, you haven't challenged One in over a year. And me? It's been even longer…"

Lisa's voice dropped, cold and sharp. "Why haven't you?"

Three looked up at the sky, eyes distant. Then, with a quiet chuckle, he replied:

"Don't worry. I will. Sometimes… it's better to wait for the tree to bear its sweetest fruit—before you pluck it."