Leon Cho seemed to have had a dream.
A long, terrible, unending nightmare.
In it, he accepted his teacher's request—to escort Master Lloyd to the Blood Therapy Laboratory to investigate something.
But the moment the door opened, the Blood Therapy faction's newest creation escaped—a substance that could infect and erode magic itself, twisting it into a mindless, frenzied lifeform.
First, the academy fell. Then Liurnia of the Lakes. And soon, it spread without end, swallowing the entire Lands Between.
Leon, one of the academy's survivors, fled with the others. But they hadn't gotten far before the monsters caught up.
After a brutal chase that left most of them dead, Leon realized running was pointless. Taking charge, he became the leader of the remaining survivors—guiding them as they hid, fought back, and struggled to live.
How long that resistance lasted, he no longer knew.
The once-youthful student became a bearded man. His pale, frail body, once weakened by study, grew hard with muscle and scar tissue.
"Because magic itself could be infected, the use of sorcery was soon completely banned. Magic civilization collapsed—stagnant, even regressing..."
"To fight the infection, we had to develop a new form of power—an energy system completely divorced from magic. We called it science."
"Through biotechnology, we discovered that our survival back at the academy wasn't luck. Our bodies carried a natural resistance to the infection—perhaps even the ability to harness it."
"Take me, for example. Leon Cho."
"To resist and suppress the spread of infection, I chose to accept that power—becoming an infected who retained his mind."
"But even then, the resistance had limits."
"I can feel it. The more I embrace it, the more it eats away at me. Maybe I still have my sanity now—but one day, it'll take me completely. I'll become no different from the others… maybe even worse."
He paused, then smiled faintly.
"But that's fine."
Standing before what was once the academy's magic core—now the heart of the infection—Leon closed his journal, filled with records and knowledge of the plague. He sealed it inside a reinforced metal container and tossed it into a nearby pipe, sending it deep underground.
Then, he reached into his pack and pulled out the timed bomb he had prepared long ago. Step by step, he approached the core.
"Because everything… must end."
Destroying the core wouldn't erase the infection, but shattering this nerve center—the largest factory for spawning infected—would cripple it. The remnants might still be dangerous, but they would never again threaten the whole of the Lands Between.
The core trembled, rallying its twisted spawn in desperation.
And then, with a thunderous roar that shook the Lands Between to its foundations, the academy, the core, and Leon himself vanished into a towering mushroom cloud.
...
Then Leon opened his eyes.
The familiar office lay before him.
He was slumped over his desk, still wearing his sorcerer's robes. Two people nearby were chatting casually.
"So you're saying the War of the Stars was just a test between the two of you—and ended quickly, right?"
"Yes. A pure contest of strength means nothing to us," Lloyd replied evenly. "I'm inclined toward destruction, while He leans toward order and creation. In terms of destruction, I'd naturally have the upper hand."
"But meaningless destruction is still meaningless. Even if I won, what would be left but ash? That's no different from losing."
"As for order and creation," he added, "I might as well admit defeat outright."
"So, after some discussion, we decided not to settle it with brute force, but through ideology instead… Wait. He's awake."
Lloyd turned his head toward Leon, who was just beginning to stir.
Leon blinked, dazed at first. As his mind cleared, the office came into focus—every detail achingly familiar.
He realized something.
Had he… been reborn?
Lately, stories of reincarnation and transmigration had become popular around the academy. Leon hadn't read many—he was always busy researching—but he understood the idea well enough.
And as the thought took hold, he jerked upright and turned anxiously to his teacher.
"Teacher, the Blood Therapy faction—"
"I know."
The old professor nodded, cutting him off before he could continue.
"But don't panic. At this point in time, their research is only halfway through. It hasn't even reached the development stage, much less an outbreak."
He smiled faintly.
"You've got plenty of time to deal with it."
"…Huh?"
Leon froze.
Did his teacher… know he'd been reborn?
And not just that—he sounded as if he already knew what was going to happen, even down to the exact progress of the Blood Therapy research.
This…
"I adjusted the timeline a little."
Lloyd said it as though it were nothing.
"What you experienced isn't entirely false, but it's not completely real either. If that sounds confusing, think of it this way—you, and a handful of others, were sent to a possible future, and then brought back to the present.
Large-scale temporal shifts can cause reality itself to collapse—a single misstep could trigger a cascade of instability. But small projections like this, minor nudges to the timeline? About as harmless as trimming your hair."
Leon stayed silent for a long time, slowly processing Lloyd's words. When he finally looked up, his expression had changed slightly.
"...Has this kind of thing happened before?"
"Plenty of times."
Lloyd flicked a coin idly between his fingers, speaking with casual indifference.
"You people have a talent for chaos. Every now and then, you manage to pull off something that nearly blows the entire Lands Between sky-high. This time it was an infection; last time, a mana riot. The time before that? Someone yelled, 'Art is explosion!'—and nearly leveled the continent."
He glanced at Leon, half amused.
"Sounds familiar? Right. The ones who came back afterward didn't just record what they learned—they wrote down their experiences, their so-called lessons. Some of them even turned the whole thing into novels to make a quick profit. But don't assume any of it's true—only the gods know how much they embellished themselves."
"Oh, and speaking of that," Lloyd added offhandedly, "this whole trend of writing novels for side income? Your teacher started it. And the way he wrote himself in his story, it was… well—"
"Ahem."
The old professor cleared his throat twice, looking slightly embarrassed.
"That was a long time ago. I was young. And mostly broke. Research funding doesn't exactly fall from the sky."
After a bit of small talk, Lloyd stood up. He still had other business to attend to, so after a few final words with the professor, he left the office.
...
Once he was gone, Leon finally came back to his senses. He stared at the door Lloyd had exited through, then turned to his mentor.
"Professor, that man..."
"He won't intervene."
The old professor saw the question before it was asked and shook his head.
"To you, the outbreak must seem catastrophic. But to him, it's just a ripple on the surface of an ocean. The fact that he gave us another chance at all is already an act of mercy."
He paused, his gaze distant.
"And besides..."
Something softened in his eyes—a glimmer of memory. He leaned back in his chair and sighed.
"He's not really interested in interfering with this world anymore."
"You must be wondering," the professor continued quietly, "why a being like that, who walks among us, is so unknown. If you hadn't lived through what just happened, you'd never have realized what kind of existence he truly is. Even the endless debates on the Magic Web about the War of the Stars wouldn't make sense otherwise. But..."
He closed his eyes, recalling the words spoken to him long ago, back when he was still young.
"Humans must one day break free from the gods' hands and walk their own path."
"I helped you through that first savage age, and I understand your longing for the so-called 'Perfect Millennium.'"
"But even I can't always be right. The world's progress can't be led forever by a single hand—mine or anyone else's."
"And beyond your Lands Between, there are countless other realms. I can't govern them all personally."
"I'll keep the title of Elden Lord. In principle, you're still my subjects. And when true calamity strikes, I'll lend a hand."
"But beyond that, I won't guide or correct your every move anymore. Even my presence will fade—until I'm nothing more than myth, a name in the margins of history."
A moment's pause.
"...Wait—'am I dying?' No. I'm not giving a final speech. I'm just stepping back. You all get winter and summer breaks at your jobs, don't you? I've been working nonstop for an entire era. I think I've earned a rest."
And so, just as he'd said, in the years that followed, the once-great King gradually let go of his authority. His presence faded from the world, his figure dissolving into legend.
Now, though almost everyone in the Lands Between knows there was once such a ruler, most people—save for a few high-ranking figures—know little more than rumor: "The greatest King in history." "Hasn't appeared in public for centuries." "Possibly sitting on a golden throne." "Maybe ascended to the stars."
But none of them ever suspected that he might still walk among them—that if they met his gaze, they might even end up playing a casual round of Duel Cards.
"What a… truly unfathomable king."
Leon sighed after listening to his teacher's recollection. Then a thought struck him.
"Right—the merchant from earlier said he was heading out to handle some business. Is it another trade deal or—"
"Oh, no."
The old professor waved a hand dismissively.
"The Dean of the Star Academy just returned from the stars. He's simply gone to pay him a visit."