The wind answered him immediately.

  The air around Lucas settled into purpose, currents stacking and braiding into something that felt less like weather and more like a magical girl given form. His ribbons lifted, skirts fluttering, hair snapping into a streaming arc as the storm drew tight around him.

  The Fire Bears charged, all five at once.

  Heat rolled forward in a crushing wave, flames surging high enough to scorch leaves from nearby branches. Lucas didn’t flinch but stepped forward, and the wind carried him.

  He vanished from where he stood, not like NightSwallow blinking out of existence, but sliding, space folding into a smooth, carved path beneath his feet as petals exploded outward in a burst of pale blue and white.

  “Flutter—go!”

  The world streaked.

  Lucas reappeared behind the leftmost bear in a rush of displaced air, boots barely touching the ground before he was moving again, already pivoting as a wall of flame tore through the space he’d occupied a heartbeat earlier.

  “Oh,” he laughed, breathless and happy, adrenaline singing. “This is—this is actually fun.”

  He flicked his wrist.

  A curved blade of compressed air snapped out, slicing across a bear’s flank. Fur parted, embers scattering like sparks from struck steel. The HP bar dipped, not dramatically, but noticeably.

  Good.

  The bears roared, spreading out now, instincts shifting from brute charge to something more dangerous. Flames condensed around their maws, heat building, pressure mounting.

  Lucas didn’t wait.

  He leapt, and the wind lifted him into a wide, spiraling arc over the clearing, skirts and ribbons trailing behind him like comet tails. From above, the battlefield snapped into clarity.

  Five massive targets, scorched ground and lines of approach. He landed lightly between two charging bears, spun, and shouted—

  “Kiss of the wind!”

  The runes flared around his palm.

  He accepted the pull without hesitation this time, guiding the arc rather than bracing for it. The blade curved outward, splitting into two tight crescents that struck both bears almost simultaneously, severing fur and muscle with surgical precision.

  Two HP bars dropped together as Lucas grinned.

  Flames erupted in response.

  Fireballs: actual, condensed spheres of burning something ripped through the air toward him from opposite sides. The wind leaned, currents shifting strongly as [Heartstorm Field] asserted itself. One fireball veered off course, slamming harmlessly into a tree that exploded in a shower of embers.

  The other lost cohesion mid-flight, dispersing into a harmless wash of heat that brushed past Lucas instead of engulfing him. He spun through it, laughing, hair whipping around his face. “Nope. Try again.”

  He dashed forward, wind screaming around him, then skipped sideways in another burst of petals as a massive claw smashed down where he’d been, cracking the ground.

  “Kiss of the wind!”

  Another blade and another clean severance.

  The Fire Bears were bleeding now, burning ichor hissing as it hit the ground. Their movements grew heavier, their charges less coordinated as the storm subtly sabotaged them, nudging trajectories just enough to ruin timing, stealing momentum at the worst possible moments.

  Lucas danced.

  He weaved between flame and claw, between bursts of heat and sweeping swipes, the wind lifting him into short, graceful arcs that felt less like dodging and more like choreography. Every movement flowed into the next: step, glide, spin, strike.

  He wasn’t fighting against the bears; he was moving around them. For thirty glorious seconds, the battlefield belonged to him.

  Then the wind loosened.

  Not abruptly, or cruelly. Just… gently, like hands letting go.

  The pressure around Lucas eased. The perfect alignment frayed at the edges, and the air stopped correcting itself automatically, stopped catching sparks and misdirecting heat with the same enthusiasm.

  Heartstorm Field faded.

  Lucas felt it immediately.

  “Oh,” he mumbled. “Right. Cooldown.”

  The Fire Bears felt it too.

  They roared, flames surging higher, heat slamming into the clearing with renewed force. This time, fireballs flew true, burning lines through the air instead of drifting aside.

  Lucas sprinted.

  Not gliding now, running, boots pounding the scorched earth as he ducked behind a fallen log, heat blasting overhead. The bark ignited instantly, flames racing along the wood.

  “Okay,” he muttered, breath coming faster. “Phase two.”

  He burst out the other side, rolled as a claw tore through the space above him, and came up on one knee, arm already lifting.

  “Kiss of the wind!”

  The blade flew, but weaker this time, its arc wobbling slightly as the lack of field support showed. It struck, still cutting, but the HP drop was smaller.

  Lucas grimaced. “Yeah. That tracks.”

  The bears pressed harder now, two closing in from the front while another circled wide, flames building in its chest. Lucas darted between trees, using trunks as cover, leaping roots and skidding over ash as fire scorched past him close enough to singe his ribbons.

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

  He waited.

  Counted.

  Dodged another charge by a hair’s breadth, wind screaming around his legs as he barely cleared a snapping jaw.

  Cooldown.

  Almost ready.

  He slid to a stop, pivoted sharply, and flung himself sideways as a fireball exploded where he’d been standing. He hit the ground hard, rolled, came up already shouting—

  “Kiss of the wind!”

  The runes snapped back into place.

  The blade carved upward this time, slicing cleanly across a bear’s throat. It staggered, roared once more, and collapsed in a smoking heap.

  One down.

  Lucas didn’t stop.

  He ran again, heart pounding, lungs burning, wind tugging at him insistently even without the full field, like it wanted him to keep moving. He cut between two bears as they collided with each other instead of him, momentum sabotaged just enough by lingering currents.

  Another cooldown ticked.

  Another opening.

  Another blade.

  Second bear fell.

  The remaining three roared in fury, flames surging high enough to turn the clearing into an inferno. Lucas felt heat slam into him, pain flaring, but he didn’t slow.

  He couldn’t.

  He ran, dodged, leapt, the wind catching him just enough to keep him alive, just enough to let him strike when it mattered. His attacks were smaller now, less elegant, but still clean.

  Third bear down.

  Then the fourth.

  By the time the last Fire Bear stood alone, its flames flickering unevenly, Lucas was shaking, sweat plastering hair to his face, breath ragged and raw.

  They faced each other across the scorched clearing.

  “Alright,” Lucas rasped, lifting his arm one last time. “Let’s finish this.”

  The bear charged.

  Lucas didn’t retreat.

  He stepped forward, gathered everything he had left, and shouted—

  “Kiss of the wind!”

  The blade flew true.

  The Fire Bear collapsed, flames guttering out as its HP bar emptied completely, and the silence fell.

  Lucas stood there, chest heaving, wind curling around him in soft, satisfied spirals. His legs trembled, arms burning, but he was smiling, wide and happy.

  “That,” he panted, “felt… fantastic.”

  Lucas collapsed onto his back.

  The scorched ground was still warm beneath him, heat seeping through the thin magic girl fabric and skin as he lay there staring up through the canopy, chest rising and falling in harsh, uneven pulls. Every muscle protested the moment he stopped moving, a full-body reminder that adrenaline was a loan and interest had just come due.

  Wind brushed over him gently now, no longer demanding, just present… cool fingers sliding along his skin, tugging at his ribbons, lifting loose strands of hair out of his eyes like it was checking whether he was still alive.

  “…Ow,” Lucas muttered faintly.

  Something fluttered overhead.

  Corvael dropped from the trees in a blur of black and iridescent sheen, looping lazily around the clearing before swooping low over Lucas’s head, cawing loudly and unapologetically as if this had been the best afternoon of its life.

  Lucas cracked one eye open and glared up at the crow. “Where,” he said, “were you.”

  “Caw!”

  “That’s not an answer,” Lucas said, wincing as he shifted. “You disappeared mid-fireball.” Corvael flapped to a nearby branch, puffed up proudly, and cawed again, louder. Lucas sighed and let his head fall back against the ground. “Figures.”

  He stayed there for a while after that, just breathing, eyes closed, letting the tremor in his hands ease and the ache in his limbs settle into something manageable.

  The wind stayed.

  It curled around him in soft, idle currents, carrying the scent of sap, lifting his hair, brushing his cheeks with the familiarity that made his chest tighten unexpectedly. “…Corvael,” Lucas murmured, “the wind feels amazing.”

  “Caw,” the crow replied.

  “Lucas.” The voice wasn’t loud... it didn’t need to be, because it echoed inside his skull. Lucas opened his eyes. “There is one final trial,” Saevrin continued, the tone neither threatening nor kind. “A boss. A culmination.”

  Lucas pushed himself up onto his elbows, a grin slowly pulling at his lips despite the exhaustion. “Of course there is.”

  “You may gain more,” the crow-god intoned. “More skills. More alignment. More favor.” The pause that followed was deliberate. “But if you lose…” Lucas’s grin widened. “You lose everything.”

  The wind stirred, uneasy now.

  Lucas rolled onto his side, then sat up, planting his hands in the scorched earth as he looked toward the darkened forest ahead, eyes bright with something dangerous and alive.

  “Throw it at me,” he said, voice steady, fearless. “Crow.”

  Corvael burst into excited motion, wings beating hard as it took off, cawing loudly as it spiraled overhead like a herald announcing war.

  “So be it,” Saevrin said.

  The words carried weight like that crow already knew every single outcome. “Study these two final skills. One is born of what you are, spark mage.” A pause. “When you are ready, close your eyes and say: ‘Time To Face The Villain.’”

  Lucas glanced around the clearing, suddenly aware of how quiet it had become. “…Do I have to?” he asked, suspicion threading his voice.

  “Caw!” his crow buddy answered instead.

  Lucas sighed, already resigned, as the system rolled again.

  [Skyspark: Serein]

  Type: 6-Marvel (Self Aura)

  Effect:

  The caster envelops themselves in a veil of softly charged wind, threaded with luminous static,

  a quiet, sunlit storm that exists without rain or thunder.

  While active, the surrounding air becomes lightly charged and attentive. Disturbances in motion, or hostile force ripple through the field as subtle shifts in pressure and static, translating directly into instinctive awareness.

  The caster gains heightened reactive perception, allowing preemptive adjustment to movement, casting rhythm, and directional control. Incoming attacks that disturb the airflow are felt moments before contact, granting micro-windows for evasion or redirection.

  This effect does not slow enemies or inflict damage. It refines timing, awareness, and intent alignment.

  The aura manifests as faint arcs of light, drifting petals, and gentle crackles of sky-blue static.

  Activation requires a verbal incantation spoken aloud: “Serein”

  Radius: Small–Medium

  Duration: 2 minutes

  Cooldown: 1 hour

  Limits:

  ? Requires active [Aerial Heart: Windprincess]

  ? Mental fatigue and emotional instability introduce interference

  ? Overlapping magical fields generate static noise

  ? Extended use increases sensory strain

  Info: Before the thunder shines, the sky already knows where she will be.

  He read.

  And then he read it again.

  As the description sank in, something clicked… not in the flashy, dopamine-hit way most skills did, but deeper. This wasn’t about power spikes or damage numbers. It was awareness.

  Before the thunder shines, the sky already knows…

  Lucas swallowed.

  That was him. It had always been him, reacting half a second too late, compensating, improvising. This was finally being early instead of clever.

  Then his eyes slid down.

  [Corvael’s Descent: Divine Gale]

  Type: 7-Legendary

  Effect:

  The caster merges intent with their bonded companion, Corvael, forming a unified wind-domain manifestation.

  Upon activation, Corvael ascends and releases a descending spiral of divine wind. Within the affected area, the caster may designate targets at will.

  Designated enemies are struck by focused annihilation currents, dealing extreme wind damage.

  Undesignated entities are actively protected, as the wind parts around them without harm.

  Activation requires a verbal incantation spoken aloud: “Corvael—descend!”

  Radius: Large (scales with control)

  Duration: 10 seconds

  Cooldown: 24 hours

  Limits:

  ? Requires active [Aerial Heart: Windprincess]

  ? Target designation requires conscious intent; loss of focus reduces precision

  Info: The crow sees. The wind listens. She decides.

  His breath actually caught. Large radius, target designation and protect allies by default. He stared at the words for a long second, then let out a shaky laugh. “O-okay,” he muttered. “This is… bonkers?”

  But the disbelief didn’t stick, because beneath it was something else.

  Relief.

  For the first time since Rimelion had stopped being a game and started being everything, Lucas didn’t feel like he was catching up. He wasn’t scrambling to be useful while people like Lisa burned holes through armies, or NightSwallow erased targets from reality.

  This wasn’t imitation power.

  This was his.

  He thought of Pearl teasing him relentlessly, of course. Of Charlie barreling through problems like a glorious disaster. Of Lisa laughing in the middle of a fight. Of NightSwallow melting into shadow and reappearing with her soft giggle behind him.

  And for once, the comparison didn’t sting.

  Lucas smiled.

  Not wide, cocky. Just… satisfied. “Yeah,” he murmured softly, the wind brushing his cheeks like approval. “I think I can stand next to them now.”

  Corvael flapped down onto his shoulder, feathers warm. “Caw!” Lucas closed his eyes, but his smile didn’t fade.

  “…Time To Face The Villain.”