CHAPTER 97: THE TRUE MAIN CHARACTER ARRIVES

As the Queen Card finished its charge, a low hum vibrated through the air like a held breath ready to collapse.

Aveline moved.

Hesitation would only invite death—she knew that better than anyone.

With a single, practiced motion, she stepped forward and slashed cleanly through the stream of water being siphoned into the card. Her sword, blackened with ancient enchantments and pulsing faintly with anti-magic threads, sliced the magic like silk.

The moment the blade met the stream, the water trembled unnaturally—quivering as if aware of its impending fate.

And then—

Boom!

The stream exploded into a burst of force and mist, an audible crack echoing like thunder as droplets rained down in a heavy, glittering spray. The shockwave shook nearby shop signs and sent a trash bin clattering down the cobbled road.

Cynthia gasped, stumbling back a step in sheer surprise. Her heart pounded.

She had seen anti-magic tools before—special runes, suppression cuffs—but this? Not like this.

Not in their academy.

"Is that...!?" she shouted, instinctively tightening her stance.

"I’ll explain later!" Aveline snapped back, already turning mid-pivot to face the masked figure, mana-charged boots shattering the cracked stone beneath her as she launched forward.

It was the same phenomenon Marcus saw earlier—back when Aveline struck that cobblestone wall. That time, her sword hadn’t even needed a second swing. The moment it made contact, the enchantments inside the wall detonated.

A strange cancellation effect—a delayed unraveling.

Marcus caught the movement, eyes flicking between the now-disrupted Queen Card and Aveline’s blade.

’That’s... unique,’ he thought, tension crawling up his spine.

’But I feel like I’ve seen that in the game before... in one of the hidden sword classes. Anti-magic discharge?’

He didn’t let the thought linger.

The Queen Card hovered—still active, its glow growing more ominous, more unstable.

Marcus acted instantly, raising his pistol and firing a precise shot toward the card, aiming to disintegrate it before it fully activated.

But—

"Too late," the masked figure said with a smug, quiet finality, his tone laced with cruel amusement.

Marcus’s stomach dropped as he dashed forward, alarm flashing in his eyes.

"Sister!" he shouted at Aveline.

She was too close to the card, her reaction speed not accounting for just how fast its activation had become.

Before Marcus could reach her, the card exploded.

It didn’t unleash a natural element—no fire, water, wind, or stone. What tore through the air was crimson, pure and undefined. An arcane color. Unknown and monstrous.

A force outside the elemental wheel.

Marcus had no time to think—only to act.

He spun, throwing his arm up, shielding Cynthia behind him.

His voice, steady but loud, tore through the chaos.

"Necrotic Rune!!"

A dark crack opened in the air in front of them like a screaming void. Crimson tendrils, jagged and writhing, surged out from the rift, devouring the blast head-on.

The magic clashed violently—two unnatural forces grinding against each other with a sound like metal screaming.

Across the street, the buildings were being ripped apart—stone, wood, and steel melting like paper under the weight of the Queen Card’s energy. Roof tiles shattered. Glass windows exploded. Shards flew like shrapnel through the glowing crimson mist.

The sky above lit up as if lightning had struck from below.

Cynthia acted next, her fingers crackling with power as she reached out.

"Superconductor!!"

A stream of lightning leapt from her hand and fused into Marcus’s necrotic tendrils. Electricity danced along the crimson lines, enhancing them—accelerating the decay of the blast itself.

The two magics synergized, an unstable alliance.

Meanwhile, Aveline—outside the protective wall—faced the explosion alone.

With a sharp cry, she brought her sword up, its mana-nullifying edge slicing through the heart of the crimson surge. The blast split around her, but not without consequence.

Energy flared all around her like a storm. Her body shook as she fought to remain upright.

"Shit!" she cursed, a deep gash appearing on her shoulder, blood splattering across the cobblestones. Burn marks formed along her side, her cloak tearing away in the blast’s force.

Only her Raven Sword—her artifact forged for disruption—stood between her and total incineration.

And the masked figure?

He remained utterly unmoving, still holding his deck of cards.

A shadow among the storm, his form outlined only by the overwhelming glow flooding the street. A rippling wall of energy shimmered silently in front of him, parting the blast like a divine curtain. The crimson avoided him—as if the magic refused to touch him at all.

"Aveline!" Cynthia shouted from behind the barrier, panic rising in her voice. Her hand trembled, sparks still dancing across her fingers as she tried to maintain the magical wall.

Marcus didn’t speak. He was too focused.

His thoughts churned, fast and sharp.

’I should have more than five rune creations by now... but if I burn them all here, I might not have enough when another threat shows up.’

’No. He doesn’t want to kill us—not yet.’

’He’s trying to intimidate us. Coax us. Break our morale, force us to join him.’

’We just need to last until he stops!’

Marcus clenched his teeth, sweat running down the side of his face as the crimson blast pushed harder against the runic wall. His mana surged unnaturally fast.

"Damn... this SSS regeneration skill is really doing overtime just a day after I got it," he muttered, half in awe, half in exhaustion.

The masked figure let out a long, bored yawn.

He wasn’t even hiding it anymore.

Standing unscathed amid devastation, he began shuffling his deck again, slow and deliberate.

"These three... really are exceptional," he mused to himself, eyes casually scanning the cards. "Maybe too exceptional."

In front of him, the ripple in the air continued—like a bubble of untouched space that no magic dared to enter.

It was unnatural. A passive defense so absolute it didn’t even need to resist. It simply denied.

Then—

A voice echoed from behind him.

Soft. Firm. Dangerous.

"That’s enough of that."

The masked figure stiffened, alarm flickering in his posture.

He turned slowly, annoyance twisting his mouth into a sneer. "Another pest?"

But when his eyes landed on the figure approaching through the drifting mist, his expression shattered.

Fear rippled across his face for the first time.

He staggered back slightly.

"A member of the Phoenix family!?" he shouted, the words torn from him as one of his cards slipped from his fingers, fluttering to the ground like a leaf caught in a sudden storm.

Standing in the golden backlight of a burning street—

Was Victoria.

The true main character.

And from this moment on, the show was hers.