The World of this Fantasy Novel is in Crisis

Rogers couldn’t see it, but around midnight, Satin caught a flash of light outside the window—a strange glow that reflected off nothing. It was magic. Unless a magician just happened to be taking a walk nearby, it could only mean one thing: the Temple Knights had arrived.

So Holy Magic uses mana too, huh.

Either way, there was no need to worry anymore. The Temple Knights were probably just waiting for the right moment to strike. The moment Rogers stepped outside for help, they would storm the place.

“We have to sneak out quietly. If the teacher finds out the Temple Knights are here, who knows what he might do.”

“What about you? Aren’t you coming?”

“Cain is still trapped. I have to get him out.”

“Ah…”

As Rogers stepped out the front door, Satin turned away.

I didn’t even think about Rogers getting caught.

When Satin first saw the light hovering around the school, he felt a wave of relief—but it was quickly followed by a sense of unease.

In Dark Age, there’s a description of a Temple Knight raid on a Black Magician—one that ended in flames. But the exact cause of the fire was never explained.

Could the teacher be the one to start the fire?

It was possible. The teacher knew at least one or two basic fire spells.

Either way, he had to be prepared. The other kids could probably escape before the flames spread, but the problem was Rogers. If the building collapsed while he was still locked up in the Confession Room, unable to move, then what?

Satin had to rescue Rogers first.

Cain must think I betrayed him.

Satin picked up his pace, picturing Cain’s angry face in his mind. It was time to save him.

But before he could even reach the stairs, a thunderous explosion rang out.

***

“You’re going to set it on fire?”

“Technically, we’re dropping fireballs. It’s our magician’s specialty.”

“Do we really have to go that far?”

“You never know what a Black Magician might do. It’s safer to burn the place down before we get close.”

“But still… setting it on fire…”

Junior priest Edward knew this operation was wrong, but no one was listening.

“There are kids in there. What if they get killed?”

“They’d be as good as dead if taken hostage anyway.”

“Are you even hearing yourself…?”

“They’re just street brats. Who’s going to mourn them?”

It was like talking to a wall. Edward’s chest tightened. If the Temple Knights had been the ones leading this mission, they’d never have approved something this reckless.

The whole thing had started with a letter a worker at the junkyard brought to the Bureau of Order.

The letter was covered in unintelligible symbols. At first, they assumed it was just a child’s doodles. But upon closer inspection, they realized it contained an accusation against a Black Magician—along with a plea for rescue.

A high-ranking magician at the Bureau deciphered the message and discovered that the chaotic scribbles were actually a magic formula—one used by a Black Magician who had been captured by the temple ages ago.

A raid unit was assembled immediately. Since the suspect had a public image as a generous philanthropist, the operation was prepared as quietly as possible.

Just in case, the Bureau reached out to the Temple for assistance. They claimed they needed someone who could administer emergency treatment in the event that the officers were affected by black magic.

That’s how two priests, trained in Holy Magic, came to be part of the mission. Edward was one of them.

He’d arrived without knowing anything about the plan. When he heard it, he was horrified—but powerless. His objections were dismissed as the naive complaints of someone with no field experience.

“They reached out for help because they wanted to live. And if they end up dead…”

“Then maybe you can say a prayer for them, Father. It’s almost time. You should stand back. You’ve got your own role to play, don’t you?”

The Bureau officer walked off without waiting for a response. Edward slumped his shoulders and stepped back. His mentor, Jeremy, clicked his tongue.

“I told you they weren’t going to listen.”

Jeremy was an older man, kind-hearted but not particularly passionate. He didn’t have the energy to fight against the inevitable.

“They’re still people, even if they’re orphans. How can they act like this?”

“It’s nothing new. All we can do is hope for the best.”

The operation time had finally come. The aging magician from the Bureau of Order lifted his chin and stepped forward, chanting a spell. He’d rehearsed several times earlier, and his posture brimmed with confidence. But his voice—his voice was inaudible, as if he feared someone might overhear and steal the formula.

Please, let no one die.

Watching the fireball plummet toward the center of the building, Edward pressed his palms together over his chest.

***

Cain woke with a jolt at the sound of the explosion, utterly disoriented. He couldn’t see. It was as if a veil of black mist had cloaked his vision, plunging everything into darkness.

He blinked rapidly, glancing around until he realized he was still sprawled across the old man’s laboratory floor. The familiar texture of the carpet beneath his cheek confirmed it.

Cain gathered his thoughts calmly.

The old man had muttered a spell, and then a strange light appeared outside the window. Not long after, Cain had blacked out. It probably hadn’t been long since then. The old man was nearby, muttering in a shaken voice.

“What the hell was that sound?”

Clearly, this wasn’t what the old man had intended. He seemed too flustered to even notice that Cain had regained consciousness.

A vague silhouette moved in the misty darkness and disappeared into the shadows. Unless someone else had entered, it had to be the old man.

This is my chance to escape.

But even with that thought, Cain couldn’t move. His head throbbed violently. What kind of spell had the bastard used?

Lying flat on the floor, Cain could barely move his eyes. There was nothing visible—but he didn’t have to see to know what was happening. Something flickered in the darkness. The longer he stared, the warmer it became.

…It’s a fire.

He gauged the fire’s location by the faint glow. The lab was next to the stairs. Judging by the rising heat, the flames had likely started there.

“Fire!”

Somewhere in the distance, someone shouted. Kids who should’ve been asleep by now came scrambling out of their rooms, chattering in a panic. Fire! Fire! Teacher! Help! We have to get out!

“What the hell is going on…?”

The old man still stood in the doorway. If he didn’t have a spell to stop the fire, he’d need to evacuate too—but he didn’t move. Then, suddenly, he approached.

“You’re awake.”

His silhouette flickered like a shadow in candlelight—shrinking and growing, warped by the firelight from the stairs. Even knowing the cause, Cain felt a chill crawl down his spine. The air grew hotter by the second, but he felt as though he were standing in front of a demon.

The old man leaned in close and asked,

“What do you see? Hmm?”

The fire would be upon them any minute now, yet the old man wasn’t even scared. He shook Cain violently, desperate for an answer. When Cain didn’t respond, the old man snapped.

“I said, WHAT DO YOU SEE?!”

Cain was just about to say he saw nothing—when something suddenly came into focus. A swirling shadow in the blackness, like a monster writhing in the heat. And within it, a strange, unnatural light floated aimlessly.

“…Light.”

Cain forced the word out through a dry throat, and the old man’s voice rose with excitement.

“Good, good. This time, I got it right.”

Shoving Cain aside, the old man dropped to the floor and began fiddling with something. It sounded like he was opening a hidden compartment—papers rustled as he hurriedly gathered them.

“That’s it. That’s it…!”

There was a disturbing euphoria in his voice. The fact that he was happy made Cain’s stomach churn.

You think I’m just going to let you leave?

With all the strength he could muster, Cain kicked at the old man’s leg. The nausea and dizziness didn’t stop him—he wasn’t about to let the bastard go. The old man, who had just started to stand, collapsed with a heavy thud.

“Aagh!”

He groaned, writhing on the floor for a moment before trying to get back up.

“You little shit!”

“Kgh!”

“You’re dead anyway, you worthless—ugh…”

Cursing more viciously than ever, the old man kicked Cain hard, then doubled over with a cry. He must have injured himself when he fell. Cain let out a raspy, gleeful laugh.

Serves you right.

Deciding not to waste any more time, the old man finally pushed himself up and limped out of the lab. Cain managed to track the direction he went. Instead of heading for the stairs, he disappeared down the far end of the hallway.

Why that way?

Was he looking for somewhere to jump from?

No, this isn’t the time.

Now wasn’t the moment to waste on useless questions. The fire was intensifying. He needed to find a way out.

If I stay here, I’m dead.

Cain forced himself upright. It took him a long while just to get on his feet—his body wouldn’t cooperate, and both of his hands were tied behind his back. On top of that, he could barely see, making it nearly impossible to brace himself or find support.

He managed to stumble out of the lab, leaning heavily against a wall that hadn’t yet caught fire, but that was as far as he could go. Even though he couldn’t see clearly, every instinct screamed that going any further would be a mistake. Each step toward the stairs made the heat grow more intense.

What the hell do I do now…

If only he could see—he might’ve been able to step carefully and jump down through a safe path. But as it was, trying to descend the stairs would be no different than throwing himself into an inferno.

Cain’s mind raced. The kids who’d been shouting earlier must have all made it out—now the building was silent. Not that it mattered. Even if someone had stayed behind, no one would risk their life to come back for him.

He had to find a way out on his own.

The window. I’ll get out through the window.

The lab’s window didn’t open, so he’d have to break it and jump. He might end up with broken bones—but that was still better than burning to death.

Crazy old bastard… What the hell did he do to me?

The plan was set, but his body refused to follow through. He hadn’t even taken two steps before his legs gave out. Cain sank to the floor, dazed, and tilted his head up.

Through the black haze, the flickering remnants of fire looked like the claws of a demon—scraping at his soul, trying to drag it down into hell.

Is this really how I’m going to die?