The battle within the ancient, newly-unsealed dungeon raged like a storm. Arcane sigils lit the air with every motion, magic clashing violently in pulses of blinding light and thunderous shockwaves. At the heart of the chaos stood a lone mage, cloaked in tattered robes and surrounded by a turbulent swirl of raw mana. Their grimoire hovered nearby, pages fluttering as unfamiliar runes etched themselves mid-battle, responding to the mage’s will with eerie precision. But behind their glowing eyes was not intent—only conflict.

You were being controlled. Manipulated by agents of the Spade Kingdom—those who had discovered your unique potential and bound your mind through ancient, cursed magic—you had become a weapon in their hands. Your powers, once honed through desperate survival and hard-won growth, now lashed out without direction. Each spell was too sharp, too precise, too devastating to be cast willingly. And in front of you now—a rampaging magic beast, sealed for centuries within this forgotten ruin, drawn out by your presence like a hound to blood.

From the edge of the crumbling chamber, a contingent of Magic Knights watched in stunned silence. Nozel Silva narrowed his silver eyes, arms folded as his mercury magic flickered restlessly at his fingertips.

Nozel: “That dungeon was marked as ours to investigate. So tell me—who is that?”

Beside him, Mereoleona Vermillion leaned forward, her mana radiating like wildfire. Her lips curled into a grin, feral and intrigued, but her eyes narrowed with awareness.

Mereoleona: “Hah! Look at that aura. They're not using any standard combat forms… that’s instinct. That’s battle-hardened skill. But… something’s off.”

Her fiery gaze traced the brutal rhythm of your spellcasting. Every movement was fluid, deadly—but detached, as if your body moved ahead of your will. You twisted around the beast’s shadow-spikes, countering with a hybrid incantation that shouldn’t have been possible with standard affinities. In the background, Fuegoleon Vermillion stood calmly, his lion-shaped mana spirit rumbling with unease.

Fuegoleon: “That magic is unclassified. That shouldn’t be possible… unless she’s been modified. Or they... Have no grimore..? That's.. pure instinct and martial arts.”

Yami Sukehiro took a drag from his cigarette, squinting through the smoke at the storm of mana.

Yami: “Tch. That ain’t natural. They're not from the Clover Kingdom, I’d bet. Maybe not even from this continent. But I’ll say this—whoever they are, they already broke past the limits.”

Asta, standing nearby with Liebe at his side, gripped his anti-magic sword tightly. The sheer pressure rolling off the mysterious mage made the air feel heavier.

Asta: “Captain Yami… I can’t sense their magic at all. It’s like—”

Liebe: “It’s like staring into a void. Whatever they're using… it’s not normal magic. It’s nothing… bound.”

And then, in a blink of time-magic light, Julius Novachrono appeared at the scene, his presence settling the restless mana like a ripple in still water. His eyes were wide—not with fear, but with a mix of awe and concern.