The Pursuit Of Catalyst: A Dive Into Another Verse

Late Night – North Wing Corridor, Imperial Asphalia Academy

The corridors of the academy, usually tranquil at night, were now alive with tension. Lanterns flickered against the stone walls as rows of guards lined the walkways—far more than the standard patrol. Among them moved armored figures bearing the crimson crest of the Royal Capital Elite Force, a rare sight within school grounds.

Whispers had long given way to hushed silence.

Sylves, Ashia, Serena, and Prince Elas, all barely eight years old, made their way back from yet another fruitless visit to the Staff Headquarters. The professors, tight-lipped and visibly on edge, had turned them away. "The Headmaster is occupied," they'd been told. "There's nothing for students to worry about."

But the four of them knew better. The disappearance of Professor Montclair could not be dismissed so easily.

As they turned down the corridor leading to their dormitory wing, a sudden stillness settled around them.

From the far end of the hall, a figure approached.

She wasn't tall by adult standards, perhaps just around 5'6", but compared to the small statures of the four children, she seemed towering—commanding. Every step she took was precise, almost rehearsed. Her silver hair flowed like a silk banner, catching the lantern light with an ethereal gleam. Her eyelashes matched, long and delicate, but her eyes—

Violet. Piercing. Identical to Sylves's.

That stopped all four of them in their tracks.

The guards nearby instinctively moved aside, standing straighter as the girl passed between them. Her mere presence drew quiet respect.

When she reached them, she halted—and lowered her head in a respectful bow toward Prince Elas.

"Your Highness," she said, voice calm and clear.

Elas responded formally. "Sarah Glens… I assume?"

She straightened, and now turned her full attention to Sylves.

"I've heard of you, Sylves Ellesmere," she said evenly. "The boy who shattered the manalith crystal. The one who stood against a Despair Catalyst—and lived."

Her gaze lingered on him, not with suspicion, but curiosity. Recognition.

"I felt your aura from halfway across the grounds."

Sylves studied her in return. "And you are?"

A slight smile touched her lips, though her tone remained formal. "Captain Sarah Glens, third seat of the Royal Capital Elite Force, dispatched by order of His Majesty."

"Because of Professor Montclair's disappearance?" Serena asked softly, stepping beside Ashia.

Sarah nodded in surprise. "Its a surprise to hear about Professor Montclairs's dissaoearance from students. You know more than you are supposed to. Well I guess it's normal for a group which has Prince Elas and the future Duke Ellesmere in it. Her vanishing has triggered royal concern. A magician of her caliber—one wielding untainted Light Magic—does not disappear without consequence. The King felt a disturbance in the holy barrier protecting this academy. That's why I am here."

She turned to Sylves once again.

"You and I," she said, "share something unusual. Your aura… it's unlike anything I've felt since my initiation into the force. The same purity. The same intensity."

Ashia subtly stepped closer to Sylves, instinctively wary. Serena's brows furrowed in contemplation. Elas, though silent, was clearly listening with the focus of royalty trained in diplomacy.

"If you're as important as I believe," Sarah continued, "then I'll be keeping an eye on you."

Sylves didn't flinch. "You're free to do so. But if you learn anything about Professor Montclair... we deserve to know."

Her silver hair shimmered as she nodded. "I'll let you know what I can. The shadows around this academy are thickening. Stay vigilant."

And with that, Sarah Glens turned on her heel and strode away, leaving behind a chill of something more than mystery.

"She has your eyes," Ashia whispered.

"I noticed," Sylves replied softly.

And for the first time since Montclair vanished… he felt both watched and not alone.

Midnight — Room 104, Imperial Asphalia Academy

The night was still, save for the soft rustle of leaves outside and the low hum of the magical wards surrounding the dormitory. Sylves lay awake, eyes on the ceiling, his mind spiraling with unanswered questions. Ashia was curled up beside him, her breathing steady but troubled.

The shadows of uncertainty stretched long since the disappearance of Professor Montclair. Even with Sarah Glens's presence, an ominous weight loomed over the academy like a gathering stormcloud.

But peace was short-lived.

A deafening blast shook the walls, rattling the window panes like glass chimes in a hurricane.

Sylves jolted upright.

Ashia stirred instantly, wide-eyed. "Wh-what was that?!"

They both leapt from the bed. Sylves rushed to the window and threw open the curtains. The night sky blazed in shades of orange and red.

Across the southern grounds, the Academy's Arsenal—a fortified building housing magical weaponry and relics—was engulfed in flames. Explosions sparked within, sending enchanted debris skyward like fireflies on a rampage.

Ashia gasped. "The arsenal… it's burning!"

Sylves didn't hesitate. "Ashia, go to Serena's room. Wake her. Stay with her and lock the door."

"But—!"

"Go," he commanded, turning toward the door. "Now!"

Ashia obeyed, eyes full of worry, and disappeared into the corridor. Sylves dashed down the stairs and out into the chaos of the night.

Smoke choked the air. Flames clawed toward the stars. Magic alarms shrieked from the watchtowers as staff scrambled in every direction.

And then—he saw her.

Sarah Glens stood alone before the inferno, her silver hair glowing in the firelight like strands of steel. Her stance was firm, and in each hand burned streaks of void magic—pitch-black energy that crackled with condensed pressure, devouring light itself.

Before her hovered a figure—shifting, smoke-like, cloaked in writhing shadows. No face, only two glowing slits for eyes. Its presence was suffocating.

The chill of despair swept over Sylves like a tidal wave.

His eyes widened. "A Catalyst of Despair…"

Sarah launched a barrage of void bolts, tearing through the air with devastating force. The shadow dodged with inhuman speed, retaliating with a tendril of dark energy that slammed into Sarah and hurled her back into the stone wall behind her.

She coughed—blood. But she rose again.

With trembling hands, Sylves summoned his Holy Lance, the same radiant weapon that once appeared during his infancy to slay an assassin. It materialized from pure light—its edges gleaming with sacred brilliance.

He didn't think. He ran forward.

The shadow turned.

With a roar, Sylves hurled the Holy Lance straight at the creature. The lance pierced its shoulder, burning with divine light. The shadow screeched, staggering backward—the first sign of pain.

But it wasn't enough.

The creature struck back with brutal force. Sylves was thrown into the ground, groaning as he struggled to get up. He felt the despair begin to wrap around him like chains—tightening.

But then—

A chorus of voices rang out, casting enchantments in unison.

"Lux Vincula! Radiant Bind!"

Spells of light, void, and barrier magic surged from behind him. Professors Alya and Magreth appeared with a dozen elite instructors, followed closely by Headmaster Gardinant Blackwood, his staff blazing with golden light.

The creature hissed and tried to flee, but barrier spells surrounded it. Magic sigils formed mid-air, glowing with holy fire. The combined might of the academy's top mages hammered down on the Catalyst like divine judgment.

With one final cry, the shadow burst into smoke, vanishing into the night—but not without leaving behind a charred crater and lingering dread.

Sylves, bleeding at the temple, looked up at Sarah. She stood firm despite her wounds, nodding slightly to him.

"Thank you," she whispered, "for slowing it."

Sylves exhaled, heart pounding.

The threat was not over.

But tonight—they had survived.

Or so they thought...

...

The smoke from the earlier battle still lingered in the night air, the scent of ash and scorched magic heavy on the wind.

Sylves, bleeding and exhausted, knelt near the wall towards which the Catalyst Of Despair threw him. Around him, the professors worked quickly to reinforce the wards, muttering incantations and summoning barriers of layered light.

But just when relief seemed within reach—

A new sound pierced the night.

Not one… but three shrill, soul-wrenching cries echoed from the sky.

Everyone froze.

From above, three figures emerged—shadowy, towering, their silhouettes outlined by the moon. Their aura was heavier than before, their presence soaked in pure despair.

The air cracked like glass under their pressure.

"More…?" Headmaster Blackwood growled, his staff crackling to life.

Then one of the shadows raised its hand, and a dark, twisting weapon appeared in its grip—a spear forged of swirling, pulsating blackness. A Despair Lance.

Its tip pointed toward the ground—toward Sylves.

"SYLVES!" Professor Alya shouted.

The lance flew.

He couldn't move.

His legs wouldn't respond. His vision was blurring. His magic was near depleted. He clenched his eyes shut, bracing for the inevitable—

But the impact never came.

He opened his eyes.

Sarah Glens knelt in front of him, arms outstretched, her body shielding his entirely.

The Despair Lance had pierced straight through her chest.

"...S-Sarah…" Sylves whispered in horror.

Her silver hair fluttered weakly in the night wind. Blood spilled freely from her wound as she collapsed into his arms, her weight suddenly unbearable.

Behind them, the battle raged as the other professors rose into the sky, spells flying in every direction. Explosions lit the heavens in blinding bursts of white and gold as the three Catalysts of Despair were driven away—but not without fierce struggle.

In the chaos, Sylves looked down at the girl in his arms—the Elite Force's No. 3… a warrior known for her unshakable resolve.

Her lips trembled, and with great effort, she pulled something from the pouch at her belt—a glowing crystal, warm and pulsing faintly with power.

She pressed it into his hand.

"Sylves... Ellesmere…" she said weakly, her voice no louder than a breath. "You're... the same as me..."

He didn't understand.

"Please…" she struggled, pain overtaking her expression, "…Take care of my sister… For me."

Sylves's breath caught in his throat.

"A sister?"

"I—I will," he choked out. "I swear on my name… I'll protect her with my life. Rest assured."

Sarah's lips curled into a faint, content smile. Her body slackened.

"Thank you... Sylves…"

Her eyes closed.

And she was gone.

Sylves clutched her against him, his tears falling silently onto her pale face.

For the first time since his reincarnation into this world, he felt the full weight of loss… and the full cost of power.

He held her for a long time, while the fires dimmed and the moon bore witness.

He had made a promise.

And he would keep it.

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