TRIO TRESPASSERS

The ground was already wrecked. Smoke curled from bullet craters. Magic particles sizzled in the air like wildfire.

But Debu?

He stood calm, breathing deep. His hands were bleeding. His shirt half-shredded. His body bruised in too many places to count.

And yet—his eyes burned brighter than the battlefield.

He reached into his pouch and pulled out his Advance Magic Book, fingers trembling, but mind sharp.

He whispered a spell. The book floated, pages glowing, circling him like loyal satellites.

He didn't just read.

He absorbed.

[Mana Reading Skill: MAXED]

Every word became fuel. Every technique wired into his nerves.

The hero fired. 10,000 guns—now rapid, now erratic, like a mad orchestra.

But Debu didn't blink.

He teleported, book hovering beside him, eyes locked in two places at once--combat and scripture.

Every dodge became fluid.

Every movement had purpose.

He sliced bullets mid-air using ADVANCE sword techniques. Not magic. Not trickery. Just honest skill.

As the sun split over the horizon, casting golden light across the chaos, Debu closed his book.

Softly. Calmly.

And he said:

"You are cooked… brooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo."

Flash. He vanished.

Appeared behind the Hero.

Whispered, low and icy:

"Peeka boo."

The Hero turned—eyes wide, anger spiked.

Rocket launchers appeared.

Dozens. Hundreds.

The sky swelled with smoke and fire.

Debu spun the Fairy King's Sword, now pulsing with ancient aura and divine style.

He used newly learned sword techniques----and with elegance sharper than gravity, he sliced through every rocket like soft vegetables.

Each slice caused a ripple of glowing energy, painting the air in crimson arcs.

Suddenly, the ground trembled.

Negative magic flooded the battlefield.

The earth cracked. The field became a pit—a hole of hell swirling with cursed heat.

The Hero wasn't done. He lifted his hands—and screamed:

"HEAVEN, HEAR ME!"

From above, reality shattered—

An atomic bomb larger than a village descended like divine punishment.

Silvery glow. Silent pressure. Unstoppable force.

Debu didn't run.

He grabbed the broken trainee sword, jumped onto it like a hoverboard, and flew up straight toward the bomb.

Milliseconds passed.

The world held its breath.

And Debu?

Sliced the atomic bomb like carrots.

Not just once---he diced, chopped, sealed, and wrapped it in mana chains and dimensional seals.

He floated mid-air, sword glowing white-hot, eyes sharp.

Krishna, watching from afar, activated Ishu's mana through Vision Sync.

Together, they cast a High-Density Level Z Barrier—stacking spells like domes of glass.

The explosion hit.

Inside the barrier—a silent nova.

Outside?

Nothing stirred.

No wind. No fire.

Just awe.

Yet through the silence… came laughter.

Not the broken kind. Not the desperate kind.

This was composed. Chilling. Powerful.

The Hero stood. His armor scorched. His eyes crazed—but focused.

His voice echoed like thunder riding a whisper.

"You think I'm done?"

He raised one trembling hand—magic circuits flaring.

"This… was my first wish."

"Guns Conjuration via Mana Imagination"

From thin air, constructs began to form.

Not from scrolls, not from blueprints.

From thought.

Guns shaped like dragons with rotating mana cores Missiles weeping elemental spells Blades designed to feed off fear, slicing through soul threads Floating turrets, auto-synced with his gaze—his vision WAS the trigger

Every weapon imagined. Every weapon real.

He smiled wider, unnerving.

"But my second wish?"

" Mana Reversal Loop"

"Every bullet you dodge… restores me."

"I am infinite!"

he roared.

"The more you dodge, the stronger I become!"

But Debu?

He didn't flinch. He didn't look impressed.

He lowered his sword slightly, tilted his head.

"So... that's your game."

His voice was calm, but behind that calm… a spark.

The Hero fired. Again. Again. And again.

And his mana?

It grew. And grew. And grew.

"You maxed your reading skill. But I? I rewrote the limits of mana storage."

Words flooded from his lips, each syllable drenched in ego.

"You cannot kill me! I am rebirth! I am limitless—"

Click.

A sound too sudden. Too close.

Debu stood before him.

No dramatic aura.

Just a man---and silence.

Before the Hero's eyes widened---

SLASHHHHHH.....

Clean. Precise.

Neck unthreads from spine.

A crownless god falls.

Even as his head tumbled through the scorched air,

the Hero's eyes turned upward—watching his own body fail to obey.

It was as if death had arrived too fast for belief to catch up.

A final echo of arrogance, still clinging to flesh no longer his.

Debu stepped forward, silent as gravity.

He took the Fairy King's Sword, aura still humming with sacred weight,

and drove it into the fallen Hero's chest.

The blade drank.

It absorbed all the mana of the hero.

Ten lifetimes of power.

Hundreds of battlefields' worth of rage.

But it was too much.

The silver blade began to flake.

Its edge cracked. Its body darkened.

Then---it disintegrated into dust, scattering like golden ash across the cursed ground.

All that remained---

was the hilt, glowing faintly in Debu's hand.

Charred. Splintered.

Still pulsing… but no longer a sword.

He looked down at it. Then up.

"Even a weapon born from kings has limits."

"It was fun, Thank you."

.

.

.

.

The battlefield crackled with residual mana.

Krishna appeared beside Debu in a shimmer of blue light, cloak fluttering from the teleport shockwave. He looked at the broken blade hilt still pulsing faintly in Debu's hand and raised an eyebrow.

"Aura farming? During a deathmatch?"

Debu chuckled, unfazed.

"Sensei taught me! Hehehe."

Suddenly, a glowing system prompt burned into the sky like a divine scroll:

CONTESTANT DEFEATED: THE HERO

You may choose ONE of the following:

1.Guns Conjuration via Mana Imagination

2.Mana Reversal Loop

3.Contestant Location Tracker

 OR Convert into 10,000 Star Coin

But Debu didn't flinch.

His hand rose, decisively pointing at option 3.

He didn't need more power. He needed perspective.

A skill to protect the ones who fought beside him.

A tool to track the enemy… or find allies lost.

Contestant Location Tracker acquired.

Krishna stared at him for a moment, then burst into laughter.

He ruffled Debu's hair with a fierce pat.

"You've grown smarter and stronger both. HAAHAHAHA!"

Ishu, still linked through vision, grinned softly.

Then canceled the spell.

.

.

.

.

.

.

As soon as the system prompt faded from the air, reality bent toward the trio.

Streams of ethereal message boxes began flooding in---like fireworks stitched from text.

[Viewer001: HOLY—DEBU IS BUILT DIFFERENT ]

[MagiFan72: Krishna teleporting mid-fight like it's nothing—ICONIC]

[IshuIsBae: That vision cancel was so smooth I squealed]

[ManaMixer89: THE HILT. THE CHOICE. THE BANTER. They're not just fighters—they're CINEMA.]

[FairyForumMod: Bro turned down GUNS to pick strategy? He cooking next arc.]

[Viewer8000: "Even a weapon born from kings has limits."—I need that tattooed.]

................+++++MORE.

 More messages kept blinking in—shimmering like confetti, crowding the screen, scrolling faster than anyone could read. Some turned into floating emojis. Some were sent from astral realms. Some smelled faintly like lemon cake. One was just "AAHHHHH" repeated for seventeen lines.

The trio—Krishna, Debu, and Ishu—stood at the epicenter of praise, memes, and frenzy.

(WHY THEY HAVE SO WEIRD NAMES, THESE VIEWERS ARE NOT IN THEIR RIGHT MINDS.)