Editor : Amethyst00



Chelsea stepped forward, gripping her staff.

A single question still lingered in her mind.

'Can I fight a Legion Commander alone?'

A Legion Commander.

Beings who reign over Tartaros.

Each and every one of them is a cataclysmic demon, capable of making the entire world tremble in fear.

For the past 5,000 years, many Legion Commanders have been subjugated.

It was the age of heroes, and thus, there were many who could take them down.

But those who could face a Legion Commander alone were exceedingly rare.

In fact, more heroes died in battles against them than there were Legion Commanders slain.

'To survive a fight against one was considered an achievement in itself.'

Normally, just hearing their name would strike fear into anyone.

What allowed Chelsea to stand tall in front of such a monster was largely because of Leo's influence.

But Chelsea was not Leo.

And now she had to face a Legion Commander alone.

However, there was something that scared Chelsea more than fighting a Legion Commander.

'The future me… how strong did I have become?'

The current Chelsea was a projection of her future self.

Accordingly, her power had grown.

'It's just a vision… but isn't this world built on one of the possible futures?'

A world where Leo had completely subjugated Erebos.

Chelsea gripped her staff tighter.

The biggest driving force that led Chelsea Lewellin to where she was now was 'admiration for someone.'

Just a year ago, Chelsea was like a baby bird in its nest.

The reason she enrolled in Lumene was because of Abad.

Her smart and kind older brother.

In Chelsea's eyes, Abad was like a hero straight out of a fairy tale.

She considered herself lucky to be born into the same noble house of Lewellin as a direct descendant.

'I hope my brother becomes a magnificent hero.'

That was a natural dream she'd had since she was young.

Because of that, Chelsea received both encouragement and concern from the Lewellin family.

The positive part was that Chelsea would never pose a threat to the heir's position.

There was only a two-year age gap between the siblings.

Unless Abad had no talent—which he did.

He had secured his place as heir with genius-level talent and immense popularity from a young age.

It was different from their rival house, Zerdinger, another imperial noble family of heroes.

Zerdinger's direct descendants, Rhys and Celia, were also highly talented, but the age gap between them was significant.

Lewellin was vast.

Though a vassal to the empire, its prestige and power were comparable to that of an independent nation.

If a strong competitor for heir existed, even a solid direct line could shake the foundation of the house.

Many once-prosperous hero families had vanished into history this way.

A long lineage didn't guarantee continuity.

The question of succession had always plagued noble houses, regardless of era.

But Chelsea had expressed from an early age that she had no interest in becoming the head.

Which, conversely, implied that Chelsea's talents were enough to threaten even the solid heir position.

This was Lewellin's concern.

Chelsea's talent was on par with Abad's.

When young, a one- or two-year gap is significant.

But as they grew, that gap quickly shrank.

Even though she had the talent to stand alongside Abad, Chelsea was always one step behind.

As if that place was where she belonged.

Always watching Abad from a step behind, full of admiration.

Naturally, people began to rank her below Celia, who was evaluated as Abad's equal within the empire.

Despite their rivalry and Chelsea's competitive nature toward Celia, she could never quite match her in ability.

Thus, Chelsea became a major concern for her family.

Would her talent go to waste?

It was during such worries that Leo appeared before Chelsea.

The first person, other than Abad, to steal her gaze.

Someone who seemed like the perfect hero she'd longed for.

Chelsea began to follow Leo.

Fortunately, Abad also followed Leo.

If the path is the same, there's no need to change course.

When they became new students at Lumene, Artienne once asked them about their goals.

Celia dreamed of surpassing her family's knights.

Abad dreamed of becoming a great archmage who would protect the citizens of the empire.

Celia, as a Zerdinger.

Abad, as the heir of Lewellin—both had noble goals.

'I want to help my brother!'

Chelsea's goal was the smallest among the new students.

But she didn't mind.

Abad had a grand dream.

So helping that dream felt just as important to her.

Chelsea continued to admire the people she looked up to from one step behind.

And a year later, when Leo tried to shatter the will of the hero candidates—

Chelsea crumbled the weakest.

'Chelsea. Maybe… it's time for you to spread your wings too?'

Abad, from another dorm, had helped her and looked at her with pity.

'Chelsea. Run.'

Celia, though from the same dorm and her rival, genuinely worried for her.

Both knew that Chelsea, at that time, had no chance of standing up to Leo.

Not even the power to resist.

That was when Chelsea decided to stop simply admiring.

A new path opened.

The girl, who experienced explosive growth, became a full-fledged mage finding her own way.

Of course, she hadn't yet chosen her path.

She still admired others.

Her goal was still to help Abad.

But that was no longer all there was to her.

Just one of many goals.

That's why, in this world where one of her potential futures had materialized—

Chelsea was afraid.

'Could the future me… really help Leo achieve his goal?'

No matter how terrifying a Legion Commander might be, compared to the goal Leo was aiming for, they were insignificant.

So if Chelsea's goal was to support Leo without falling beside him—

Then the Legion Commander before her had to be an enemy she could overcome.

"Huh?"

Ceneor's gaze landed on Chelsea.

Her lips twitched.

It wasn't mockery.

It was the bloodthirsty fighting spirit soaked in aggression and madness.

"Our lovely little chick has arrived."

"Little chick?"

Chelsea tilted her head.

"Yeah. You fluttered in like one earlier."

Ceneor flapped her hands like wings with a smirk.

"Our little chick doesn't seem ready to fight someone like Lady Ceneor. How about fetching the Annihilator of Light or the Herald of Beginning?"

"You're giving Carl quite the promotion, suggesting him over me."

Chelsea let out a surprised sound, but then smiled sweetly and pointed her staff at Ceneor.

"But I'll take care of you. I'm stronger than Carl."

"It pains me to pluck an unbloomed flower… but right now, I can't hold back."

Whooosh—! Rumble-crack!

Ceneor swung her arm.

A massive scythe appeared and slashed right beside Chelsea.

Had it swung slightly differently, she would have been cleaved in two.

And yet, Chelsea didn't even blink.

"Scared?"

"No. I knew you wouldn't cut me."

"Oh?"

She was right.

She could sense the flow of the wind.

And within that wind, she saw the path of the attack.

Even Chelsea was surprised.

It wasn't just that her magic had grown stronger.

'If you master wind magic to the extreme… you can see the world like this.'

The moment she thought of combat, countless things became clear to her.

'Can I control this power?'

It was so strong she could hardly believe it was her own.

'Wind Sword.'

As a battle magician, Chelsea's specialty was close combat.

She was skilled enough to defeat even most knight academy students in melee.

She gathered wind at her feet.

Then aimed her man-sized staff, held in her left hand, at Ceneor.

Quickly, she chanted.

"Rafale."

One of the Lewellin family's secret spells.

A massive gust instantly ripped through Ceneor.

Rumble-crack!

"Ahahaha! Not bad!"

Ceneor's eyes gleamed as she swung her scythe.

"Urgh?!"

Clang!

Chelsea blocked it with a wind-forged blade on her staff.

Whoosh—!

Her body was flung away.

'It's hard to control this power!'

As she flew back toward a massive tree, Chelsea clenched her eyes shut.

'Wind Shield!'

Crash! Rumble! Crack!

She smashed through countless trees.

Ceneor began casting dark magic toward her.

Vmmm—!

A blood-red magic circle formed mid-air.

With a snap of her fingers, a whirlwind slashed toward where Chelsea landed.

Rumble-crack!

Earth, rocks, and trees were sliced apart.

But the attack didn't end there.

Vmmm—!

A giant circle appeared in the sky.

"What kind of magic is that?"

Carl looked confused, and Leo replied calmly.

"A curse."

"What?"

"Looks like a curse that makes everything within range heavier."

"That could help Chelsea, though. Heavier objects give wind more force when launched, right?"

Carl, knowing Chelsea's wind magic well, tilted his head, but Melina shook hers.

"No. Curses aren't that simple."

"Huh?"

"High-level curses alter concepts. To make something heavy, there should be a process. But a high-level curse skips that—it only gives the result."

"That's hard… so it just feels heavier?"

"In simple terms, yes."

That put Chelsea at a disadvantage.

Her wind magic relied on speed.

"Shouldn't we help?"

"…"

Despite Carl's words, Leo silently watched the battle.

bl

"Aghhh!"

Boom!

A crushing weight pressed down on Chelsea.

'A curse?'

Her face twisted.

'Can I dispel it?'

"Since you seem to favour wind attacks, I'll face you with wind too."

Ceneor smiled gently.

Whoosh!

She waved her hand and a blade of wind flew to shred Chelsea.

She quickly chanted a heatwave spell.

Fwoosh!

Wind met wind, forming a violent storm.

'If this keeps up, I'm just a strong fool!'

Chelsea bit her lip.

Aside from stronger mana, nothing had changed.

'What am I supposed to do…?'

If she couldn't make this power hers, it was useless.

As she grew desperate, an image of someone flashed through her mind.

"Now! Next attack!"

Ceneor grinned and swung his scythe, summoning a gale.

It rushed at Chelsea with tremendous speed.

In that moment—

Whish—

"…?"

The gale turned into a gentle breeze before her.

'The wind's greatest strength isn't speed.'

Chelsea closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

'It's freedom.'

Wind is capricious.

It blows one way, then another.

Unpredictable and free.

And to be free means to become anything.

Chelsea curled her lips into a smile.

A smile just like the one of the person she admired.

Seeing it, something unexplainable boiled in Ceneor's chest.

She didn't know why, but she hated that smile.

Ceneor swung her scythe again.

Rumble-crack!

It felt as though a typhoon swept the land.

She tried to control all wind in the area to kill Chelsea.

She raised her staff.

At its tip, a gentle breeze blew.

Then it swallowed the storm, calming it.

"What did you do?"

"I just… copied someone."

"Copied?"

A 16-year-old Chelsea would never dare to imitate that person.

But the Chelsea now could.

As Ceneor scowled and conjured more wind—

Chelsea repeated the words that person once said to her.

"You're not supposed to use wind like that."