War

"So, we meet again," Art said quietly, his voice low but carrying the weight of inevitability. His gaze locked on mine, steady and unyielding, but there was something in his eyes—worry? Frustration? For once, I couldn't read him.

I didn't bother masking my glare. "Explain. Now."

Art sighed, his hand brushing the back of his neck, as if grappling with his own inadequacy. "I don't know," he said, the words heavy with an honesty that made my anger flare even hotter. "I didn't anticipate this... development with Alyssara."

"So you didn't see it coming?" I shot back, my voice sharp. "Her obsession with me? The way she's made it her personal mission to break me, only to call it love?" The words felt ridiculous, even as I spoke them, but they were my reality.

Art closed his eyes for a moment, his expression tightening, before he opened them again. "No," he said, his tone clipped, frustration flickering beneath his calm facade. "She shouldn't have those memories. It should be impossible."

"Impossible?" I repeated, my voice rising. "What isn't impossible in this mess you've dragged me into? You're supposed to have the answers, Art. Isn't that your whole thing?"

His jaw tightened, the air between us thick with tension. "Do you think I don't know how serious this is?" he said, his voice cold enough to cut. "If I had a way to stop her, I would have done it already. Do you think I enjoy watching this unfold, powerless to intervene?"

"Then intervene!" I snapped. "You're the one who brought me here, the one who tied me to all of this. And now you're just... standing there? Telling me to be careful?"

Art stepped closer, his tone dropping into a low growl that sent a chill through me. "You're not the only one blindsided by this, Arthur," he said. "Alyssara's obsession defies every law, every pattern I've ever seen. If I could stop her, I would. But she's not just dangerous—she's something beyond reason. A force of chaos that even I can't predict."

His words landed like blows, and for a moment, the weight of my anger faltered. "So what am I supposed to do?" I asked, my voice quieter now, but no less fierce. "Just let her unravel everything?"

"No," Art said firmly, his eyes boring into mine. "You don't let her break you. Not her, not anyone. You've endured too much already to let that happen now."

The silence stretched between us, taut and uneasy, until he finally sighed, the sharp edges of his frustration softening. "I don't have all the answers, Arthur," he admitted. "But you need to keep your head. You need to be strong—for what's coming."

He didn't wait for a response. Before I could say another word, he turned, his presence fading into the shadows of my mind like a passing storm.

And then I woke.

'Did I collapse because of her threads?' I thought.

The sterile white of a medical facility greeted me, a far cry from the oppressive darkness of my dream—or vision, or whatever that was. My body ached, and for a fleeting moment, I let myself believe it had all been a figment of my subconscious, some fever dream born of exhaustion.

That illusion shattered when the three princesses entered.

Rachel, Seraphina, and Cecilia crowded around me, their faces pale with worry but steady with resolve. They brought news—not of my health, but of the world beyond this quiet room.

The Eastern continent had descended into chaos.

The war against the Red Chalice Cult and the vampires was no longer a whispered fear—it was an open, bloody reality. Magnus Draykar and Selene Kagu were locked in a battle that had become the stuff of legend before it was even over, clashing against none other than Caladros von Noctis and Alyssara Velcroix. 

The air grew heavier as I absorbed their words. Magnus and Selene, two of humanity's strongest, were fighting for their lives against two Radiant-rank foes who threatened not just the East but the balance of the entire world.

But that wasn't all.

"Arthur," Rachel said, her voice trembling slightly, though she tried to keep it steady. "It's not just the East anymore. The borders are burning."

"The cults," Seraphina added, her tone grim. "They've smelled blood in the water. They're pressing every advantage they can find. The West, the South—even the Central Continent. It's spreading."

My chest tightened. The Red Chalice Cult's boldness had emboldened others. Vampires were the spark, but the flames were spreading, threatening to engulf the entire world. Lines were being drawn, alliances tested. The world stood on the brink of a global war, a war that no one was ready for.

"Magnus and Selene are still fighting," Cecilia said softly, her expression unreadable. "But we're losing. The East is calling back its warriors from across the world, and even then, it might not be enough."

I leaned back against the cold steel of the bed, my thoughts tumbling over one another like waves in a rising tide. The weight of what lay ahead pressed down on me, a relentless, suffocating burden. Whatever fragile calm there had been was gone now, swept away by the storm that had finally arrived.

"What about us students?" I asked carefully, though the answer seemed all too obvious.

Cecilia's expression hardened, her voice a grim melody of resignation. "We'll be drafted," she said, her words as heavy as the tension in the room. "We're old enough—close enough to eighteen—and far too strong for them to leave us out of this war."

A deep sigh escaped me as I ran a hand over my face. The news was expected, yet hearing it aloud solidified the grim reality we faced.

This wasn't just a dangerous twist in the tale; it was a complete derailment of the story I thought I knew. In the original Saga of the Divine Swordsman, the war hadn't reached this scale until the end of Volume 7, years from now. But the timeline had fractured. The Vampire Monarch had awakened far earlier than he was supposed to, and the ripple effects were catastrophic.

My heart pounded, each beat like a hammer striking an anvil. The Vampire Monarch.

Caladros von Noctis wasn't just a looming threat—he was an active calamity. At the peak of mid Radiant-rank, his power eclipsed even Magnus Draykar. The Martial King might stand against him for a time, but the harsh truth remained: Caladros could kill him. Magnus might leave a mark, might even force the Monarch to retreat for a while, but ultimately, he couldn't win.

And then there was Alyssara Velcroix, a specter just as menacing. Her strength was deceptive, cloaked in that eerie mix of grace and malice. She surpassed Selene Kagu, who, formidable as she was, could not hope to best Alyssara in her current state. Alyssara could kill Selene.

The others in the room didn't know. None of them truly understood the depth of the danger we faced, the abyss that had opened before us. Their unease was palpable, yes, but it lacked the sharp edge of despair that pierced through my chest like an icy blade.

Except for me.

I knew.

I knew too much. And that knowledge weighed on me more than the specter of any blade.