3000 words
From now on I won't take any input from the reader No Author notes...
People seem to be really angry at those.
I'm going to shift to 10,000+ words per chapter weekly from now on.
I don't want to upload A/Ns all the time as a seperate chapter I can't do anyrhing if the idea comes after already uploading one.
---
Hope and Fury were currently mulling over a better way for Fury to utilize magic.
Despite his high talent due to the enhancements , magic couldn't be properly incorporated into his fighting style yet—it felt more like a separate tool than an instinctive part of his combat.
So far, he had learned several useful spells:
Strength Augmentation Spell: A spell that allows the caster to enhance the strength of another person.
Incantation: Viribus.
Moratorium Spell: A spell that alters the perception of time, slowing down or speeding up for himself and the target.
Incantation: Morator.
Heartbeat Control Spell: A spell that allows the caster to regulate another person's heartbeat—whether to calm them, steady their breath, or even stop their heart entirely.
Incantation: Tardus pulsatio.
Blood Weapon Creation Spell: A spell that hardens blood to form a glass-like weapon.
Incantation: Vitris.
Echolocation Spell: A spell that materializes the caster's voice into a ball of sound, radiating outward. Once the sound waves hit an object, they bounce back, providing a mental map of the surroundings.
Incantation: Ohun. Pada.
Speed Enhancement Spell: A spell that heightens the caster's speed by aligning their movements with the wind and sharpening their reflexes beyond human limits.
Incantation: Celeris Spiritus.
The last spell on his list was one he particularly needed—Speed Enhancement.
While his body was already fast now, he needed something that could allow him to escape when in a pinch.
Fury was well aware of the fact that he was the weakest of the group.
When he first entered this mess, he was just a human. Even with the enhancements—whatever the hell the Satan had done to turn him into some "ancient human"-level being—he was still weak. Incredibly weak.
At least, weak for this mission.
The things they were dealing with were far beyond his proportions. Gods, devils, eldritch horrors—the kind of threats no amount of human conditioning or training could ever truly prepare someone for.
And yet...
He wasn't afraid.
Not like before. Not like when he stood toe-to-toe with Captain Marvel, knowing she could wipe him off the map in a second if she wanted. Not like when he faced the Skrulls, constantly second-guessing reality itself.
This was different.
Hope, noticing his pensive expression, tilted her head and asked, "So... what exactly is your job? Like, I never really got to know. Since you're one of the two functioning members of human society in our group—because Satan and the Primordial Goddess don't exactly count."
Fury let out a small sigh as he opened his gun, beginning the routine process of cleaning it.
"At this point… I don't know," he muttered, inspecting the barrel with practiced ease. "The things I've learned from Leo, the things I devoted my life to in my world... it all feels like some cheap movie playing on an old, broken projector."
He paused for a moment before continuing, "But I guess, at the end of the day, you could say I help protect the world from things normal agencies can't deal with?" He gave a dry chuckle dis assembling the barrel.
"Now tou could say I'm the weakest guy in a team of Multiversal Firefighters."
Hope hummed in acknowledgment, watching him work for a moment.
Fury glanced at her. "What about you? What's your story? I mean, I don't wanna assume, but you look young. "
"And according to Satan-Man, you only recently transitioned into being a vampire, so the chances of you being some ancient, millennia-old evil are pretty much zero."
Hope sighed, leaning back slightly. "Well, there's not much story to me… I'm just a student, currently in high school for all the magical people—witches, werewolves, vampires.."
She gave a small chuckle before continuing. "I guess you could call me some sort of princess of the supernatural? Kinda like royalty. We Mikaelsons are the Original family—the first vampires. "
" My father, Klaus, is the Original Hybrid, supposedly the big bad of the entire magical world."
Her voice softened slightly as she looked away. "But... I don't really know much about him. Never really got to spend time with him, never got to understand him. "
" Apparently, our family was cursed by some ancient power. It's all just… a big mess."
Fury raised an eyebrow as he methodically cleaned his gun. "Is that why you joined this chat group?"
Hope nodded, leaning forward slightly. "Yeah… it promised me a way to finally fix my family's problem. It was right on time too. I was about to take some… drastic steps. Steps that could've been dangerous."
She exhaled sharply, rubbing the back of her neck. "I guess my mentality was already focused in that direction. Trusting an entity I couldn't even comprehend? It seemed like a good enough bet at the time."
Fury gave her a look—part curiosity, part understanding. "And now? Still think it was a good bet?"
Hope shrugged, a small, wry smile playing at her lips. "I don't know, Guess I'll find out soon enough."
"That you'll do," said a voice behind them.
Neither Fury nor Hope had sensed the arrival, which immediately put them on edge.
Fury moved on instinct, drawing the gun he had just finished cleaning, while Hope's pupils shifted into the fierce, glowing eyes of a werewolf. Her fangs grew out, ready to tear into the intruder if necessary.
While Fury silently chanted spells on himself for protection, Hope was the first to speak.
"I don't suppose you come here in peace?"
The figure in the shadows smiled, but it wasn't a friendly one.
"That depends," they said smoothly. "Do you know who killed my partner?"
---
In the headquarters of the Continental Mage Association, all first-class mages, along with Frieren and her party, had gathered.
Serie sat with a serious expression, her piercing gaze scanning the room as she spoke.
"That's the gist of what I have come to understand," she said.
Lernen, usually composed, looked like he had seen better days. His face twisted as he mentally wrestled with the sheer weight of the information he had just heard.
"What is the next course of action?" he finally asked, his voice laced with tension.
Serie hesitated, her fingers tightening over the edge of the table.
"Truthfully… I don't know."
She exhaled, shaking her head.
"I think only the Goddess could possibly match that being—"
She suddenly froze mid-sentence. Her eyes widened, and an unfamiliar expression flickered across her face—panic.
A calm voice interrupted the tension.
"Oh, hello there."
"You finally sensed me....Good job."
Aizen waved casually, a small smile on his lips.
The mages reacted instantly.
Almost as one, they sprang to their feet, their magic flaring as they shifted into attacking positions.
Aizen remained unfazed and continued " We have somethings to discuss.."
---
"I don't suppose you'll introduce yourself...?" Fury asked, his gun steady as he eyed the man standing nonchalantly before them.
The man smirked. "No, I don't think I will."
Fury barely reacted, only shifting his eyes slightly to the side in a silent signal to Hope srill pointing his gun at the man.
She caught on immediately, her stance adjusting ever so subtly.
The man raised a single finger, and red energy began gathering at its tip, crackling with power.
But instead of tensing up, Fury and Hope… lowered their guard.
The man faltered. "Huh?"
Their expressions weren't of fear, nor anger.
They looked at him with pity.
For the first time, the man seemed to register something—something behind him.
His body tensed, the energy at his fingertip flickering as a sudden realization crept up his spine.
The man turned around, eyes narrowing as he saw it—a massive crack in space forming behind him, stretching into the void beyond and a golden planet visible.
Before he could react further, pure bands of mana, numbering in the thousands, surged from the rift and wrapped around his body, dragging him backward.
Yet, despite the overwhelming force binding him, he didn't appear fazed.
Instead, he scoffed, his sharp gaze flicking back to Fury and Hope as he resisted the pull with sheer strength.
"Your pity is grating on me," he muttered.
Fury, unfazed, let out a dry chuckle as he adjusted his grip on his gun.
"Trust me, you are the most pitiable motherfucker to me right now."
The man's eyes twitched at the words, irritation flashing across his face.
His pride demanded action.
Without hesitation, he launched an attack meant to annihilate Fury in an instant.
But his pride had blinded him to another presence.
A pink-colored multilayered magic barrier shimmered into existence, intercepting the attack.
At first, it seemed futile—the sheer force behind the blast warped reality, causing the air to distort.
But then… the attack twisted midair, transforming into strange, otherworldly fauna, blooming unnaturally as if the laws of nature had rewritten themselves.
Before the man could process what had just happened, a deafening screech like roar echoed through the battlefield.
His gaze snapped upward just in time to see a towering figure descending upon him—a blue-haired, horned woman, her cross eyes blazing with fury.
It was Tiamat.
Her form cut through the air like a meteor, her heel aimed directly for his skull.
Tiamat's leg flared with magic, a pinkish aura igniting around it.
As she descended, a sudden burst of mana accelerated her midair, propelling her toward her target at blinding speed.
The man barely had time to widen his eyes before—
CRACK!
Her foot tore through him, and with a sickening sound, his body was split in two.
Blood and viscera sprayed into the air, suspended for a brief moment before gravity reclaimed them.
His severed halves twisted in freefall, his face destroyed upon impact alongside all of his organs that turned to mush..
Tiamat landed with a thunderous impact, the very ground beneath her shattering from the force.
The minced flesh twitched violently. Shreds of muscle and bone reeled toward each other, strands of sinew knitting together at an alarming rate.
But before the body could fully reconstruct, the bands of magic had already completed their task—dragging the man into the spatial crack.
Tiamat did not let up.
Her gaze was cold as she clasped her hands together, mana surging like a tidal wave.
The air trembled, the weight of her power distorting space.
She muttered two words.
"Nega Genesis."
A cuboidal bounded field—denser, smaller, and sharper than her usual application—formed instantly, bridging the space between her and the man.
A scream tore through reality as the man's existence was denied.
Nega Genesis was a curse upon history itself, a rejection of the very concept of proper human origin.
His body convulsed violently, his form twisting and breaking, his very being unraveling as the law of beginning was stripped away.
But then—he resisted.
Like Hikaru before him, his body began to mutate, writhing unnaturally as grotesque tentacles sprouted from his flesh, distorting his visage.
His limbs twisted beyond human proportions, and with a crack, the bands of magic shattered—his existence no longer bound by conventional means.
Tiamat's eyes darkened, her lips curling in anger.
She had enough.
She was not in the mood for this.
Her daughter's pain had made her quite angry...
Her patience was running a bit dry.
She refused to let another blight walk unpunished.
And so, for the first time in her existence, Tiamat did something she had never done before.
She accessed her own Origin.
It was something she had never thought necessary.
A truth she had never needed to wield.
For Tiamat, the very beginning of her existence—her Origin—was simple.
Origin.
Nothing more. Nothing less.
The primordial mother of all things.
The true genesis from which life flowed.
She had always been, and therefore, she had never needed to fight she never actually "fought" ever.
Conflict, war, destruction—these were things born from her children, not from herself.
But now, for the first time, she reached into herself.
She reached into her own existence.
And from it, she took what was hers.
Her voice boomed, echoing across the warped battlefield.
"Enki."
The world itself shuddered.
"Ea."
Something broke.
"Unfilial descendant of.... mine."
At that moment in Nasuverse, deep in the Reverse Side of the World, where the gods of Proper Human History lived, Enki screamed.
His body convulsed, splitting apart at the seams.
Something within him was being ripped away.
No.
Something was being taken back.
Tiamat's voice roared through existence itself.
Enki's form cracked, divine essence rupturing as his Origin of " Magic "was beinf torn from his soul.
"You, who claimed.... wisdom yet denied.... the mother ...who bore you."
His form peeled away, his divinity unraveling as Tiamat's claim over him became absolute.
This was possible because..
She was no Divine Spirit.
She was not some replicated shade from the Throne of Heroes.
She was not a copy, not a manifested legend bound by summoning rules or vessels.
This was Tiamat.
The Tiamat.
The one that was born in the jurassic era's start.
And she had decided that her child's power was no longer his to keep.
"Your divinity ...is mine... to take."
The force dragging him apart intensified.
Enki roared, his body failing to hold itself together, his mind breaking as his very foundation was rewritten.
Tiamat did not care.
She did not ask.
She demanded.
And Ea answered.
An absolute understanding surged through her —the essence of Wisdom , the knowledge of Magic.
Tiamat wasn't done or satisfied.
With a wave of her hand, a vast network of golden geometric symbols appeared in the air, etching themselves into reality.
It was an action that should have been impossible for her previously, but now, with "magic" as a concept being completely strong-armed into her usage
She did something that no one—not even the greatest mages of Humanity —could ever dream of attempt.
She installed something into Magnus—an editing tool.
Made by true magic as the humans called it , a whole lot of true magic used at once.
Tiamat forcefully wielded what humanity called the pinnacle of mystery, drawing upon portions of the First, Third, and Fourth Magics to establish a direct conduit between Magnus's existence and her authority.
The First Magic allowed the materialization of true ether, allowed her to creat fuel for this endeavor.
The Third Magic, the materialization of the soul, let her grasp his soul.
The Fourth Magic, the materialization of information, allowed her to transform his existence into an equation.
At that moment, Magnus became a variable.
A thing no longer set in stone, but an equation that could be rewritten.
Tiamat tilted her head, her eyes glowing with absolute dominance.
"Your existence... is an error ...in my sight," she said softly.
And then, she activated parts of the Second and Fifth Magics.
The Second Magic, which governed parallel worlds, allowed her to move what should not be moved.
The Fifth Magic, which reigned over time travel, allowed her to send something to a point in time that would never exist.
Together, they accomplished the impossible.
Tiamat grabbed hold of the eldritch corruption festering within Magnus—the Foreign aspect of his being, the influence that tied him to things that should not be.
And she extracted it.
The eldritch qualities within him twisted, screamed, resisted, trying desperately to hold onto a host that it had entwined with on a fundamental level.
But it was pointless.
Tiamat's will was absolute.
With a final, almost gentle gesture, she discarded the eldritch corruption—not into another universe, not into another being, but into a Magnus that had never and would never exist.
A Magnus whose timeline was not existing from the very beginning.
A Magnus that was now defined as "Never."
And with that, the Magnus before her—now stripped of his eldritch ties, now a mere human—was no longer special.
No longer an anomaly.
No longer a Foreign God's pawn.
No longer anything at all.
His body—now mundane, now utterly unremarkable—began to collapse in on itself, unable to withstand the sheer contradiction of its own existence.
And with nothing left to resist, Nega Genesis completed its work.
Magnus ceased to be.
The rift in space—shut with a final, silent collapse, Tiamat released Enki's authority , allowing his origin to slip back into him.
A dull ache settled into her being.
For the first time in her existence, she knew the sensation of exhaustion.
This was something even her "battles" against her child Marduk and his accursed weapon had never made her feel.
She exhaled, long and slow, her gaze flickering to Hope and Fury.
They were… unbothered.
Not awed. Not even curious.
They simply watched with a detached acceptance, as if they were acknowledging the fate of side characters in a story that refused to let them matter.
As if they had resigned themselves to never being the audience's favorite.
Tiamat's lips twitched in amusement, but before she could say anything, the heavy flap of massive wings filled the air.
Tia in her dragon form, descended beside her, landing with a pleased rumble.
The excitement in her voice was palpable.
"Mother! You're too fast"
"I came as fast as I could!" Tia's golden eyes gleamed, her massive body coiled with eager energy.
"Where is the enemy? I wish to fight alongside you!"
A brief silence.
Tiamat smiled. Softly. Sweetly.
"Well… they're gone."
Tia blinked.
Once. Twice.
Then, as realization dawned, her expression fell into one of sheer disappointment.
"…Oh."
Her massive tail swept over the ground, dragging aimlessly through the dirt. And then—slowly, dramatically—she lowered herself onto her haunches and began…
Drawing circles in the ground.
A sulking dragon, tracing meaningless spirals into the earth like a child denied their favorite treat.
Tiamat let out a quiet, fond sigh.
---
Leo sat in a bounded field he set up to concentrate, a vast void where only his thoughts and equations filled the endless expanse.
Before him, cosmic formulas danced in glowing golden script, shifting and adjusting as he meticulously calculated the descent of the Morningstar.
Venus.
It was the perfect candidate.
A wayward angel, falling toward Earth in a grand cataclysm.
If he set the parameters just right, then in 3.5 billion years, the chain of celestial events he was orchestrating would finally reach its climax in his "world" he was trting to form.
This event will also form a sort of Noble Phantasm as it will carry conceptual weight to it.
One that, when fully invoked, would summon trillions of tons of molten rock, a rain of high-speed planetary debris, and a heat thousands of times hotter than the Sun's surface.
A descent so apocalyptic, so absolute, that if it is used as a cocept it is Anti-Planet.
His hands moved with precision , inscribing the path of Venus in the fabric of existence, shifting orbital parameters, bending gravity, setting the dominoes in motion.
And then—
A soft chime.
His focus snapped.
A notification?
Leo frowned, eyes flickering toward the intrusive message from the System.
[TARGETS ELIMINATED: 2/3]
For a second, there was silence.
Then, slowly, his lips curled.
"…Heh."
He wasn't sure which of the remaining two had been erased, but it hardly mattered.
Progress was progress.
And with that, he returned to his calculations—his grand design.
For the Morningstar had yet to fall.
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Stones and Reviews please