Prologue

In the shrouded veil of the night, where even the bravest souls sought solace in slumber, a clash of titanic proportions unfurled. This was not merely a skirmish, but a cataclysmic struggle that would determine the very fate of existence itself—a battle between humanity and the forces of darkness, a clash that echoed across realms unseen by mortal eyes.

On the scarred canvas of the battlefield, the remnants of ferocious combat littered the landscape: scorched earth, fractured stones, and the lingering echoes of explosive magicks.

Amidst the chaos, heroes clashed with the imposing figure of the Demon King, his laughter a sinister symphony that reverberated through the night. "You fools," he bellowed, his voice dripping with malice, "no mortal can defy me! I have forged a pact with Hachiman, the god of war! Your struggles are futile!"

Yet, despite the overwhelming odds, the heroes stood firm, their resolve unyielding even in the face of certain defeat. Though their strength waned, hope burned brightly within their hearts—a beacon against the encroaching darkness.

Unbeknownst to the Demon King, a shadowy figure lurked in the periphery, his presence veiled by mystery and intrigue. With a voice as cold and calculating as the chill of the night air, he uttered words that would alter the course of the battle.

"Antimagic field. Antimagic card activate."

In an instant, the battlefield was ensconced in a shimmering blue light, the very fabric of reality bending to the will of the enigmatic figure. The Demon King's malevolent spell faltered, its potency nullified by the unforgiving embrace of the antimagic field.

Enraged, the Demon King surged forward, intent on extinguishing the source of this unforeseen interference. But before he could reach his quarry, the figure spoke once more, his words laden with ominous power.

"Gravity magic card activates, 100-fold increase."

With a deafening roar, the Demon King was cast down, his once invincible form rendered feeble beneath the crushing weight of gravity itself. Blood stained the earth as he collapsed, his defiance crumbling in the face of insurmountable force.

As the dust settled and the figure descended from the heavens, his true visage obscured by darkness and mystery, the Demon King could only muster a trembling question.

"Who... who are you?"

With a smirk hidden beneath the shadows of his hood, the figure replied with a single word that echoed like a whispered curse upon the wind.

"I am

.

.

. a Magician."

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In an era brimming with the brilliance of modernization, where the sky was painted with the glow of innovation, the night unfurled its velvet cloak over a world ablaze with lights and laughter. Among the myriad parties scattered across the globe, one stood out like a beacon in the darkness—a grand affair hosted by none other than the President of Indonesia.

As the stars blinked overhead, illuminating the stage set for the evening's main event, anticipation crackled in the air like static electricity. Here, amidst the gathering of world leaders, esteemed scholars, and luminaries of the mind, all eyes were fixed on a single figure—the enigmatic magician known only as Oz.

With a flourish of his cloak and a sparkle in his eye, Oz commanded the stage, a master of illusion whose every movement seemed to defy the laws of nature. His tricks were not mere sleight of hand; they were feats of mind-bending impossibility, designed to challenge the very limits of human perception.

For a decade, Oz had baffled and bedazzled audiences around the globe, his name whispered in awe and reverence wherever he went. His signature move—flinging cards emblazoned with cryptic images into the air—was both a tantalizing clue and a brazen challenge to those who dared to unravel his secrets.

But despite countless attempts by the sharpest minds and keenest eyes, Oz's magic remained shrouded in mystery. He was a phantom, a riddle wrapped in an enigma, leaving audiences spellbound and yearning for more.

From glittering stages to world-changing events, Oz had woven his spells into the fabric of history itself, leaving an indelible mark on the world of magic and beyond. And as the clock ticked closer to showtime on this fateful night, the question on everyone's lips was not if Oz would perform his miracles, but how.

In the year 2046, on a nondescript street corner bathed in the glow of flickering lamplight, Oz made his grand entrance onto the world stage. With a twinkle in his eye and a flourish of his hand, he beckoned the gathered crowd to step back, to give him room to work his magic.

As the spectators obediently shuffled away, a hush fell over the crowd, anticipation hanging thick in the air like a heavy fog. And then, without warning, the stage burst into flames, engulfing Oz and everything in its path in a roaring inferno.

Panic gripped the crowd as they scattered like startled birds, cries for help ringing out into the night. Ambulances were summoned, sirens wailing in the distance as the flames licked hungrily at the sky.

But just as suddenly as it had begun, the fire died out, leaving behind nothing but a sea of ash. The crowd stared in disbelief, mouths agape, unable to comprehend the spectacle they had just witnessed.

And then, as if from the heavens themselves, a single card descended, fluttering gently down to land atop the head of a stunned spectator. With trembling hands, he plucked it from the air, his eyes widening in astonishment as he beheld the image of a joker grinning up at him from the card's surface.

But before anyone could make sense of this strange occurrence, a thunderous explosion of cards erupted from the ashes, the stage and Oz emerging unscathed from the chaos. The crowd gasped in disbelief, unable to fathom the impossible feat they had just witnessed.

Applause erupted like a tidal wave, washing over Oz in a cacophony of sound as the crowd erupted into cheers and applause. And as he bowed gracefully before his adoring audience, Oz knew that he had just taken his first step on a journey that would leave an indelible mark on the world of magic.

In the tumultuous year of 2048, New York City found itself ensnared in the clutches of terror as self-proclaimed "liberalist" extremists launched a brazen attack on its bustling streets. Their cries echoed through the concrete canyons, railing against perceived injustices and wielding their demands like weapons aimed at the heart of the government.

Caught in the crossfire of chaos and confusion, the brave men and women of the police force and military struggled to devise a plan of action. With uncertainty hanging heavy in the air, hope seemed but a distant flicker in the darkness.

And then, like a beacon cutting through the haze of uncertainty, the face of the enigmatic magician known as Oz appeared on the towering screen that loomed over the city's plaza. His words carried a weight of solemn authority as he addressed the assembled officers, his voice a steady anchor in the storm.

"To the honored police officers and their peers," he began, his tone both humble and resolute, "I humbly ask you to prepare yourselves. For when the sky darkens and strange objects fall from above, oppression shall cease, and justice shall prevail."

With those cryptic words hanging in the air, tension crackled like electricity, anticipation building to a fever pitch. And then, as if on cue, the heavens themselves seemed to heed Oz's call, shrouding the city in an ominous darkness.

But this was no ordinary darkness, for as the crowd looked up in awe, they beheld a sight both miraculous and confounding. From the sky above, a cascade of cards rained down upon the scene, fluttering like autumn leaves in a gentle breeze.

In an instant, the weapons clutched in the hands of the terrorists were rendered useless, their barrels clogged with the unexpected deluge of cards. With swift precision, the officers sprang into action, apprehending the would-be oppressors before they could even comprehend what had transpired.

The events of that fateful night spread like wildfire, capturing the imagination of a world hungry for answers. And though the skeptics clamored for rational explanations, there was a whispered truth that lingered in the air—a truth that defied logic and reason.

For in that moment, amidst the chaos and uncertainty, magic had danced upon the streets of New York City, weaving its spell and reminding humanity that sometimes, the most extraordinary miracles are found in the most unexpected places.

With each flick of his wrist and every twist of his fingers, Oz continued to defy the very laws of nature, his magic a spectacle that confounded even the most brilliant minds of his time. From esteemed scientists to ingenious inventors, from masterful fraudsters to cunning conmen, none could unravel the secrets hidden within his illusions.

He was the true magician, a enigmatic figure who seemed to exist beyond the boundaries of the known world. His tricks transcended the constraints of physics, leaving spectators in a state of awe and disbelief. With a mere snap of his fingers, he could transform wealth into worthless cards, and with a whispered incantation, he could vanish into thin air, leaving naught but a trail of mystique in his wake.

But it wasn't just his uncanny abilities that set him apart; it was the aura of mystery that surrounded him like a cloak of shadows. No one dared to challenge him, for to do so would be to court the unknown, to risk delving into realms best left untouched.

And so, Oz became more than just a man—he became a symbol, a living embodiment of the mysteries that lay hidden beneath the surface of the world. With each performance, he wove a tapestry of wonder and intrigue, drawing audiences into a realm where reality blurred and the impossible became possible.

As the anticipation reached a fever pitch, the world's most esteemed figures gathered in hushed reverence, their eyes fixed upon the enigmatic figure known only as Oz. His announcement of the greatest trick he had ever conceived sent ripples of excitement and curiosity through the assembled crowd, each member eager to bear witness to a spectacle that bordered on the realm of magic itself.

Oz was no mere hero; he was a magician in the truest sense of the word—a master of mystery who shunned the limelight and thrived in the shadows of the unknown. His very presence was a magnet for intrigue, drawing all who beheld him into a web of fascination and wonder.

Tonight, as he stood before the assembled throng, the air crackled with anticipation, a palpable energy that pulsed through the crowd like electricity. All eyes were trained upon him, each gaze a silent plea for enlightenment, for a glimpse behind the veil of illusion that shrouded his every move.

For the world's great figures, this was more than just a show; it was a test of intellect and insight, a chance to prove their worthiness in the eyes of the enigmatic magician. To befriend Oz was to unravel the mysteries of his mind, to unlock the secrets that lay hidden within his illusions.

And so, as the lights dimmed and the stage was set for the greatest performance of all time, the world held its breath in anticipation. For in that moment, anything was possible, and the only certainty was that Oz held the key to unlocking the secrets of the universe itself.

With a resounding swoosh, the grandeur of the Indonesian National Palace became the stage for an entrance unlike any other. In a spectacle that defied explanation, the legendary magician materialized amidst a flurry of cards, each one a testament to his otherworldly prowess. The audience, comprised of hundreds, even thousands of onlookers, erupted into applause at the unexpected arrival of the enigmatic performer.

But amidst the thunderous applause and the gasps of awe, a sense of unease lingered in the air. For even the greatest minds and the most skilled martial artists among them had failed to anticipate the magician's arrival, a testament to his unparalleled mystique.

With a graceful bow, the magician acknowledged his audience, his movements fluid and practiced. Yet, as he rose from his bow, a sudden stillness overtook him, his features frozen like that of a lifeless doll. It was a disconcerting sight, one that sent a shiver down the spines of even the most seasoned observers.

And then, as if choreographed by some unseen hand, the spotlight shifted to the back of the room, drawing the attention of the crowd. There, amidst the spectators, a figure soared through the air, borne aloft by two magnificent white birds that served as his wings.

But before the stunned audience could fully comprehend what they were witnessing, another explosion of cards rocked the stage, engulfing both the flying magician and his avian companions in a whirlwind of chaos. And just like that, they were gone, vanished into thin air without a trace.

As the bewildered crowd grappled with the events that had unfolded before them, their thoughts raced to a single question: where had the legendary magician disappeared to this time, and what manner of trickery was he weaving now?

Little did they know, they were not alone in their confusion. In the heart of a dense forest, a lone figure stirred from unconsciousness, his eyes darting about in bewilderment.

"Where in the world am I?" he wondered aloud, his voice echoing through the silent expanse of trees. And thus began a journey into the unknown, as the mystery of the legendary magician continued to unfold.