Next Day At the Research Club Room.
The mood in the Research Club room was uncharacteristically formal that
Gone were the snacks. Gone were the casual lounging positions. Even the air felt tighter as if someone had cranked up the pressure to see who would first crack.
Seraphina stood at the front, arms crossed, her golden eyes locked on each member in turn—Amane, Ayaka, Miya, Riku… and Eiji, who looked like he'd just crawled out of a trash bin full of regrets.
She cleared her throat. "The Elder Council has officially scheduled our Arcane Game match. It begins next week."
A beat of stunned silence followed.
"We have seven days to prepare," she continued, her voice razor-sharp. "Which means—starting Today—we're entering intensive training. Every single day. No exceptions."
Gasp.
Eiji's chair scraped loudly as he jumped to his feet. "Waitwaitwait—by training… You mean, like, training training?"
"Yes," Seraphina said flatly.
"…During Golden Week?"
"Yes."
"THE Golden Week?!"
"Yes, Eiji."
A shiver traveled down his spine. His world crumbled in an instant.
[Begins his internal meltdown monologue]
Golden Week… My beautiful, sacred Golden Week…
He envisioned himself lying on a beach towel in the clubroom, surrounded by blushing maids in frilly outfits. One of them fanned him. Another spoon-fed him strawberry parfait. A third whispered, "Eiji-sama~ we made you omelets with ketchup hearts…"
He reached for one. It melted. Everything melted like his hopes.
He collapsed to his knees in reality. "MY GOLDEN WEEEEEEEEEK!!!"
Before he could complete Shakespearean tragedy, a thwack echoed through the room.
A thick textbook smacked squarely against his head.
"Shut up, you big pervert," Miya muttered coldly, already returning the book to her bag like this was her morning routine.
Eiji groaned on the floor. "That was unnecessary…"
Eiji leaned over to Amane. "This is so cruel. My whole long week is gone ."
Seraphina sighed, her patience already thinning. "If you want to blame someone for this mess, Eiji…" She crossed her arms, eyes flaring. "Then blame yourself. If you hadn't caused all that chaos yesterday, we wouldn't have to rush our preparation now."
He blinked up at her. "Wait, me?! How is this—?"
The room grew quieter. Even the ambient mana seemed to be still.
Seraphina's voice softened—but only slightly, her eyes scanning each of them. "I know this isn't how any of us wanted to spend Golden Week," she said, her tone firm yet tinged with sincerity. "But the Arcane Game is no joke. If we lose, I lose my freedom. And above, I could lose you, my Team, and everyone, and that's the last thing I ever want to lose."
Her gaze lingered on each of them before landing on Eiji last. "So if you have any complaints… save them for later. First, we train. Or we lose."
A heavy silence followed.
Then, Eiji slowly stood, brushing imaginary dust off his pants. "…Alright, fine," he muttered, sighing dramatically. "I'll trade the maids and parfaits for fireballs and bruises. So… what exactly am I supposed to do first?"
Miya didn't even glance up from her book. "Try not to cry during sparring."
"Oh, come on! I was trying to be cool for once!"
That line cracked the tension. A few snorts escaped. Even Ayaka stifled a chuckle.
Seraphina crossed her arms and declared, "The war has begun, and there's no turning back. Go home. Pack what you need. We will gather at the club and depart for training tomorrow at exactly seven o'clock in the morning. It'll be a long trip, so rest well Today as much as you can."
Eiji blinked. "Wait—by 'trip,' you mean… where exactly?"
Seraphina turned with a sly smile. "You'll know tomorrow."
The next morning, the Research Club room felt different.
The faint humming of mana drifted through the air like a low, reverent chant. At the center of the room, etched into the floor in faint silver and crimson runes, was a large magic circle—complex, ancient, and quietly pulsing with energy.
Seraphina stood before it, arms behind her back, flanked by the others. Her gaze swept over Ayaka, Amane, Miya, Riku, and finally, Eiji, who still had sleep lines on his cheek.
"Stand within the circle," she ordered. "We're leaving."
Eiji scratched his head. "we are Leavings early, but to where? Please don't say it on some battlefields or anything.
Seraphina ignored the comment. "The spell is bound. Once activated, it will teleport us to my family's training villa.
With a flick of her hand, the runes ignited with a soft glow.
In a heartbeat, the world around them blurred into white.
Flash.
When Eiji opened his eyes, the Research Club room was gone.
In its place stood a vast clearing atop a forested island plateau. The sea glittered in the distance beyond the cliffs, and nestled into the curve of the hill stood a sprawling Blackstone villa styled in gothic arches and obsidian-glass windows.
Eiji blinked at the scenery, momentarily stunned. "Okay, I gotta admit… this is nice. Like villain-rich-girl-who-owns-her-own-castle levels of nice."
Seraphina smirked. "This is my family estate. It's also a place where we spend our holidays. No one but us can access it now. It's Isolated, fortified, and completely cut off from outside interference. Even the skies above are sealed with protective barriers."Perfect for what we need."
They entered the villa, its interior colder than expected—both in temperature and atmosphere: gleaming marble floors, tall gothic doors, and crimson banners emblazoned with the Falcor crest.
Moments later, they gathered on the expansive rear balcony overlooking the sea. The wind carried the scent of salt and something faintly metallic.
Seraphina stood at the edge, her back to them, arms folded.
"Before we begin training," she said without turning, "you need to understand what we're stepping into."
She turned and locked eyes with Eiji.
"You're the only one here who doesn't seem to grasp the seriousness of the Arcane Game fully. So I'll make sure you understand precisely what's on the line is
The others exchanged glances. Miya folded her arms, Ayaka leaned against the railing, and Amane adjusted her glasses, already sensing the shift in the atmosphere.
Seraphina stepped forward.
Her voice deepened—steady and sharp.
"The Arcane Game… was born from centuries of death."
The air grew still.
She began to narrate, and as she did, the space around them shimmered—visions forming behind her like ghostly echoes from time itself.
[Flashback ]
"At the height of magical civilization, the realms of gods, angels, devils, dragons, and fallen angels were locked in a devastating war called the Great Chaos War."
They saw images flicker—golden-winged angels clashing against horned demons, dragons roaring over burning skies, divine weapons falling like meteors.
"It was not a war for territory. It was a war for supremacy. Each race believed it was destined to rule the others. There were compromises and No mercy."
The ghost of a battlefield appeared—a wasteland soaked in fire and blood, with giant corpses, skies torn open, and divine power splitting the Earth itself.
Seraphina's voice wavered slightly. "It lasted not for years or decades. It lasted for Centuries. The Great Chaos War nearly unraveled the world's structure. Magic broke down. The flow of time in some realms collapsed entirely. Giving each side heavy losses.
She strolled as she spoke, each step deliberate.
"Of the 72 Pillar Families of the underworld, only a handful survived—the Falcor House. Barbatos is one of the few.
Eiji's brow furrowed. "What about the rest?"
"Erased," Seraphina said simply. "Or absorbed. Or corrupted beyond recognition."
The image shifted—showing empty thrones and broken crests.
Even Our enemies were not faring much better. Angels lost entire choirs. Dragonkind went nearly extinct. Gods started to devour other gods."
She looked up at the sky.
"So, in time, a ceasefire was declared. Not out of peace—but exhaustion. The powerhouses of each realm realized something terrifying."
She turned back to them.
"If we kept fighting, no one would be left to win."
The visions faded.
"In the aftermath, "With birth rates already low among devils… we couldn't recover fast enough. The full-scale war was deemed unsustainable. So, we started relying on other races, and the system changed. Reincarnation Devils began transforming humans and others into our own to reinforce numbers—what we now call the Evil Piece System."
Seraphina's voice was low. "So that's when the Arcane Game started."
Seraphina said. "It began as a symbolic ritual. A non-lethal battlefield. Each 'king' would command their peerage. The game was about power—but also about strategy, politics, and performance."
She clenched a fist at her side.
"But don't be fooled. Just because it is a non-lethal battlefield doesn't mean it's safe. Reputations are destroyed. Families fall. Bonds break. and even death may occur.
Eiji, quiet until now, finally spoke.
"…That's why you're taking this so seriously."
She met his gaze. "Because I have to. Losing this match doesn't just mean I couldn't forfeit the engagement to Reignar. It means the My Falcor name—what's left of it—will be swallowed whole. And I won't let that happen."
She turned to all of them now, voice rising.
"This game is more than magic. More than a fight. It's about symbolism. History. Pride. Tactics. Honor."
She placed a hand over her chest.
"We fight not just with strength—but with identity."
A long silence followed.
Riku, uncharacteristically soft-spoken, finally murmured, "…That sounds like a war that may never really end."
Seraphina gave a sad smile. "It didn't. We wear prettier masks now."
The training villa's sky had darkened into a deep crimson hue—not from the setting sun but from the shimmering aura now glowing above the balcony.
Ambient magic hung in the air like smoke before a wildfire.
Seraphina stood at the balcony's edge again, this time not as a commander rallying her troops—but as a historian revealing the enemy's shadow.
She raised one hand, and mana pulsed around her wrist. A circular glyph spun into the air, humming with power. In its center, a sigil formed—a stylized phoenix wreathed in serpentine flames, crowned by two horns and a devil's tail.
"The crest of the Ignidrath Household," she said. "Remember it well."
The room dimmed as the glyph expanded, casting flickering red-orange light across their faces. The air became warmer—no, heavier—as if the flame within the image pressed against their lungs.
Eiji narrowed his eyes. "Okay. That… doesn't look like a normal phoenix."
Seraphina's tone was soft but laced with something colder than fire.
"Because it isn't."
She turned toward them, her cape gently catching the wind.
"The Ignidrath bloodline doesn't descend from a noble devil clan. Not originally. They were born of something older… and far more violent."
She walked to the center of the balcony, where the projection began to shift, displaying ancient murals, fiery beasts, and volcanic ruins.
"Long ago, before the fall of the ancient dragon, there existed a being known only in whispers as Ignisrex—the Crimson Calamity."
The image morphed, showing a massive flame dragon with molten scales, its breath melting mountains and skies alike.
"He reigned over the southern infernal regions—unbound by allegiance to devils or dragons. A force of pure destruction."
Ayaka crossed her arms, lips tight. "Let me guess. He died, but not really."
Seraphina smirked faintly. "Not quite. In the era of the Chaos War, Ignisrex was mortally wounded by a divine artifact. Rather than perish, he chose to transform—abandoning his dragon form and reborn as a Devil. Thus, the first of the Ignidrath was born."
Riku's usually quiet voice chimed in, thoughtful. "So he... became a devil to survive extinction?"
Seraphina nodded. "And with time, merged his bloodline with remnants of the Phoenix Clan."
The projection flared—now showing a phoenix and a horned devil joining hands, a ring of fire encircling them.
"Their union was not love. It was politics. Two dying legacies fused into one ambition."
Amane's voice was steady. "And that ambition is…?"
Seraphina's eyes sharpened.
"Supremacy Of flame and legacy Of fear."
She paced slowly now, the heat from the projection brushing her cheeks.
"For the past few centuries, the Ignidrath Household has risen—not through valor, but through calculated conquest and Alliances. Through political Marriages, They waged Arcane Games. They dominate, then absorb. Like wildfire devouring a forest."
The vision shifted once more.
A battlefield.
A boy—no, a young man—stepped into the frame. Cloaked in obsidian and crimson. Flames curled at his back like living wings.
Reignar Ignidrath.
Eiji stared.
The projection showed Reignar in battle—no audience, no dramatics—just silent, brutal efficiency.
One opponent lunged at him.
Reignar didn't even flinch. A flare of energy exploded around his arm. The attacker was engulfed in golden-red fire—reduced to ash before he could scream.
Another challenger tried to trap him in a temporal stasis field.
Reignar smirked.
The stasis shattered from the inside out, and molten scales formed over his arms. With a single swipe of his hand, the battlefield split open, and magma rose through the cracks.
Eiji swallowed. "…He incinerated the field itself."
Seraphina didn't deny it.
"Reignar Ignidrath. Current heir of the Ignidrath Household. A hybrid of pure-blooded devil and ancient dragonflame. He's undefeated in every Arcane Game he's entered. Dozens of victories among the young generation."
Miya narrowed her eyes. "How many were clean victories?"
Seraphina gave a bitter smile. "None. Every match was designed to break the opponent. Physically. Politically. Psychologically."
The image froze—Reignar's face in the forefront, smirking, eyes gleaming with infernal arrogance.
"He doesn't just fight with power," she said. "He fights with dominance. He wants every flame to leave a scar."
Eiji looked at her sideways. "Sounds like a guy compensating for something."
"Maybe," she said. "But right now, that 'something' is a peerage backed by centuries of dragon blood and a legacy of fire."
Silence returned.
The projection faded slowly, the air cooling enough to breathe normally again.
Seraphina faced them fully now.
"I'm not telling you this to scare you. I'm telling you this so you understand."
She raised her voice slightly—not commanding, but grounding.
"This is not just a match. It's not just a game. It's a confrontation between names. Between families. Between flames—his, born of tyranny… and ours, born of defiance."
She met Eiji's gaze last as if speaking to something only he would feel.
"We fight not just with strength… but with identity."
The phrase hung in the air like a vow.
Eijis arms were still folded, but his voice was sharp. "So how do we beat someone like that?"
Seraphina closed her eyes. "We don't try to match his fire. We bring our own."
A moment passed.
Ayaka said, " In simple terms, we just have to work hard. "He may have been undefeated in his previous match, but that doesn't mean he can be defeated.
ImmediatelySeraphina replied."well said."
Eiji sighed. "This week's gonna kill me."
"You'll live," Miya said flatly. "Unfortunately for you, yes."
And the actual war—of magic, strategy, and history—was about to begin.
The war table wasn't just a table.
It was a manifest battlefield—an obsidian slab etched with glowing ley lines and arcane circuits. Floating above it were chess-like magical miniatures—each carved with uncanny detail representing members of Seraphina's team… and Reignar's.
Seraphina stood at the head like a general surveying the map of a doomed nation.
"Arcane Games," she began, "aren't about brute strength alone. They're about placement, timing, coordination."
With a flick of her hand, mana pulsed. Five glowing models floated to the side labeled Falcor Peerage.
One glowed faintly gold. Ayaka.
Another shimmered with purple lightning. Riku.
Miya's was thin, nimble, edged in blue mist.
Amane's figure pulsed with soft light, wings slightly unfurled.
And Eiji's…
It was still a blank silhouette, flickering between states.
"Let's begin with the confirmed placements," Seraphina said, fingers sliding along the table's rim like a conductor guiding an orchestra.
"Ayaka, you'll be one of our vanguards. Direct assault, control the center zone."
Ayaka cracked her knuckles. "Finally. I was getting bored."
"Riku, you're our second vanguard. Flank from the left and apply pressure."
The silver-haired devil grinned, blade already drawn in his projection. "No objections."
"Miya—your speed and stealth magic make you the perfect scout. Information wins battles."
"Amane, you'll remain in the rear. Support, healing, barrier wards. You're our foundation."
Amane smiled gently. "I'll protect everyone the best I can."
Eiji stared at the table, where his model glitched erratically.
Seraphina hesitated—only briefly.
"As for Eiji…"
The room went quiet.
"…Your role is undefined. For now."
"Huh?!"
She raised a brow. "I haven't seen you in real combat. I won't assign a role blindly."
Miya snorted. "Tch. Don't drag us down, mystery man."
Amane gave a supportive smile. "Do your best, Eiji-kun!"
Eiji pointed at his blank model. "Wait, wait, wait. So everyone gets badass titles, and mine is… what? NPC?!"
"You're an irregular," Seraphina said calmly. "Which can be useful... or catastrophic."
"…This is some anime logic," Eiji muttered. "I'm gonna die, aren't I?"
The table dimmed, the models returning to stillness.
The game had begun.
The queen had moved.
The next day began with sunrise over hell.
The team stood in the villa's training grounds—a massive, rune-lined field bordering an underground combat chamber. A mix of open terrain, jagged rocks, spell-inscribed dummies, and reinforced platforms awaited them.
Seraphina clapped once. "You have one week. No excuses. Survive or surrender. There's no middle ground."
Eiji raised a hand. "Do we get lunch breaks or—?"
"Begin."
Riku & Ayaka's Training
"Focus!"
Ayaka's voice cracked through the air like a whip just as her staff slammed into Eiji's ribs. The impact sent him stumbling back with a strangled groan.
"GAH—what was that for?!" he clutched his side, glaring at her like a betrayed puppy.
Ayaka didn't flinch. "You flinched. You dodge, or you die. That's the rule."
"Die from you?!"
"Exactly," she said with a faint, terrifying smile, already stepping forward again.
Before Eiji could recover, she dragged him into another punishing sequence of martial drills. Rolls, dodge, grapples, disarms—each motion more demanding than the last. Ayaka was relentless, her movements fluid and sharp, like she'd been forged for war.
On the sidelines, Riku observed quietly, arms folded. Their eyes narrowed, tracking every mistake Eiji made.
"You rely too much on instinct," Riku said calmly, stepping into the ring as Ayaka backed off. "Instinct gets you killed against someone faster."
Before Eiji could catch his breath, Riku closed in—silent as a shadow. Their foot hooked Eiji's ankle, sweeping him off balance—a controlled takedown. No flair. Just efficiency.
Pinned again.
"AGAIN," Ayaka barked.
Eiji wheezed, flattened on the floor. "You both say that like I still have lungs…"
"Then grow new ones," Riku said flatly, offering him a hand. "Because if you can't stand after a few beatings, you won't last a second in the Arcane Game."
Despite their harsh words, there was no malice. Only urgency. Purpose.
Ayaka crouched beside Eiji, eyes sharp but honest. "This isn't bullying. It's survival. We're making sure you don't die out there."
Eiji looked between them—Ayaka's burning discipline, Riku's cold precision—and let out a breathless chuckle. "Tough love, huh?"
Ayaka smirked. "No. Just tough. Love's optional."
Miya's Training
Miya didn't yell. She didn't even speak at first.
She just launched an orb of ice straight at his head.
"Hey—!"
"Don't blink."
The orb split midair. He dodged one, and the second hit his thigh.
She closed in, spell circle flickering. Her foot connected with his side.
"Lesson one," she said coolly, "Don't assume one spell means one attack."
"You could've led with a tutorial—!"
"Lesson two: Stop whining."
Eiji limped to Amane, face bruised and limbs jelly.
"I think I saw the Grim Reaper."
Amane smiled sweetly. "Perfect! That means we're halfway done."
"…What?"
She cast a gentle green glow over his body. His wounds faded—but his exhaustion remained.
"Again," she said. "I can heal your injuries… but not your stamina. So we push your limit until you adapt."
"Wait, that doesn't make any sense—"
Push-ups. Sprint drills. Backflips. Repeat.
Each time he collapsed, she healed him.
Each time he got up, she smiled kindly. "You're improving."
He muttered something about "sadist angels."
Later that evening, he thought he had a break.
He was wrong.
WHACK.
"BEHIND YOU."
Miya had materialized from the trees and slammed him with a staff.
Again.
THUMP.
"Too slow."
And again.
"Where is she even—?!"
"Everywhere."
By nightfall, Eiji collapsed into the dirt, eyes twitching, limbs shaking.
"Golden Week… more like... Grim Reaper Week…"
No one argued.
That night, the stars glistened above the villa grounds like silent witnesses.
A fire crackled in the center of the makeshift camp, casting warm glows over tired faces. The sky was so vast and quiet that, for a moment, it didn't feel like they were at war.
Eiji sat beside the flames, his arms bandaged, a blanket loosely over his shoulders.
Amane knelt next to him, stirring a small pot. "Careful—it's hot."
He accepted the mug of soup with a groan. "If I ever see another push-up again, I'm throwing hands."
She giggled. "You'll thank us someday."
He took a sip.
"…I'll thank you if I survive."
A quiet moment passed.
Then, soft footsteps approached.
Seraphina.
She didn't sit. She just stood nearby, her silhouette backlit by firelight.
Her voice was softer now, lacking its usual command.
"…I know you're not here for glory."
Eiji looked up.
She continued, "You could've walked away. You had no reason to stay. So… thank you. For standing with me."
Eiji didn't respond right away.
He stared at the stars—those faraway flames in the sky.
"…I'm not doing this for you," he said quietly. "I just owe someone a reminder…"
He tightened the grip on his mug.
"…that pawns can burn kings too."
Seraphina's expression changed for a second.
"…Then let's remind them together."
She turned and walked away, leaving him by the fire.
The camera would've lingered on his eyes—calm, determined, tired.
But elsewhere…
In a distant chamber, surrounded by obsidian and gold, Reignar Ignidrath stood alone.
He stared into a floating flame, expression unreadable.
Then, a whisper.
"Let them come."
The fire flared brighter—hotter.
"I'll turn their little rebellion… into ash."
End of The Chapter