The forest parted into an open clearing where the estate loomed ahead — an isolated structure surrounded by thick fog and tall black walls that glistened like obsidian under the moonlight. The Blue Rose crest gleamed faintly on their armor as Noah led the five-man team toward the entrance, boots sinking slightly into the wet soil.

"Stay close," Noah murmured, eyes narrowing as the air grew heavier with each step. His tone was calm, but everyone felt the unspoken tension clawing through the silence.

The gate creaked open on its own. No wind. No sound. Just that slow, dreadful sound of rusted metal.

They entered the courtyard — dead flowers, cracked statues, a dried fountain at the center. The place stank faintly of iron and rot. It wasn't just abandoned; it was violated.

Noah raised his gauntleted fist, signaling halt. The faint blue lines etched across the black steel of his gauntlet pulsed — an old relic designed to amplify impact through mana compression. He flexed his fingers once, feeling the hum.

"Inside," he whispered.

The mansion doors stood ajar, shadows yawning wide. The interior was a long hall lined with portraits — all faces painted over in thick black paint. Candles flickered weakly on cracked walls, casting trembling light over the marble floor.

And then, from the far end of the corridor — movement.

Figures stepped from the dark. Cloaked men, faces hidden beneath hoods, their hands already crackling with mana. Blue and crimson runes glowed in the air around them.

"Contact!" barked one of the guards.

The hallway erupted.

A torrent of wind magic blasted forward, shattering tiles. Noah dove low, grabbing one guard by the collar and yanking him down as an arc of lightning tore through where they'd just stood.

"Engage!"

Steel clashed. Fire met ice.

Two of the Blue Rose men leapt forward, blades shimmering with mana, cutting through the smoke. A cloaked mage countered — his staff twirling as tendrils of water lashed out like serpents. One guard raised his arm, summoning a burst of frost that froze the whips midair before shattering them with a swing.

Noah darted through the chaos, his movements sharp and efficient. No blade, no staff — only his gauntlets.

He closed in on a mage preparing a sigil and drove his fist into the man's ribs. The gauntlet roared — a concussive pulse followed, sending the man crashing into the wall. Another came at him from the side, blade wreathed in flame. Noah blocked with his arm, sparks spraying, before pivoting on his heel and slamming an elbow into the mage's jaw.

"Keep formation!" Noah shouted, voice echoing through the hall.

But the mages weren't amateurs. They fought in synchrony, magic overlapping, spells chaining with ruthless precision. The floor itself began to glow — an array forming beneath their boots.

"Trap sigils!" Noah barked.

The warning came too late. A column of light burst from the floor, knocking two of his men off their feet. Their armor glowed red-hot from the explosion, and they fell unconscious before they could even scream.

Noah lunged forward through the haze, grabbed the nearest mage, and smashed his face into the marble floor. The gauntlet crackled, overloading — his strength doubling for a heartbeat. Bones gave way with a muffled crack.

A sharp whine pierced the air — a spell charging. Noah turned, but too late.

The blast hit.

He was thrown back, slamming into a pillar. The world spun. His ribs screamed in agony.

Across the hall, the remaining guards fought desperately — one flinging daggers coated in freezing mist, another deflecting bolts of fire with a conjured barrier that flickered under strain.

"Hold the line!" one shouted, voice breaking.

Then — silence.

The light of their spells faded one by one.

Smoke drifted through the broken hall, curling over unmoving bodies. The Blue Rose men lay scattered, unconscious or bleeding out. Noah staggered to his knees, coughing blood, his gauntlet flickering weakly.

The cloaked mages stood amidst the wreckage. One of them stepped forward, lowering his hood slightly — his mouth the only thing visible beneath the shadow.

He smiled.

"Pitiful," the man said softly.

He raised a hand, fire gathering at his palm, forming into a blazing orb that hummed with volatile power.

Noah exhaled shakily, pressing one hand against the floor, trying to rise. His vision blurred.

The air rippled — heat, dust, blood.

"KEKEKE!"

The fireball launched forward an explosion of orange light filling the corridor.

For a moment, everything was swallowed by flame.

The fire dissipated, revealing only scorched tiles.

Noah's body was gone.

A voice came from the smoke — calm, smooth, and laced with a hint of amusement.

"This is getting unnecessarily exhausting..."

The mage froze.

Footsteps echoed in the place.

From the lingering smoke stepped a tall man dressed in a black suit, his coat long and heavy, brushing against the floor.

A silver mask covered his face, gleaming faintly beneath the flickering light.

His hair was long, black, and slightly disheveled swayed with each step.

Both his hands rested on the head of a silver cane, polished to mirror sheen.

The air around him felt different being more dense, cold and suffocating.

The mage instinctively took a step back, feeling a presence that pressed like an invisible weight against his chest.

The masked man tilted his head slightly, voice calm and almost playful.

"You really shouldn't throw fireballs just anyhowly in people's directions," he said softly, his tone edged with mock courtesy.

"It's bad manners."

The mage's fingers twitched, summoning another spell.

Noah lunged forward the cane taking form into a spear as he spun it and impaled the mage.

In one motion, he withdrew and threw the weapon across the clearing, striking another. The weapon dissolved into metallic dust before reforming in his hand.

It was then that he sensed a familiar mana signature.

From the shadows of the cavern entrance, a voice spoke softly.

"I was wondering when you'd show up."

Noah turned sharply.

The orange-haired butler stood there, still in his black uniform, eyes glowing faintly gold in the darkness.

It was him. The same man he'd seen weeks ago speaking with members of the Crimson Workshop. Amy's attendant.

"...You," Noah muttered under his breath. His grip on the spear tightened.

The butler smiled faintly.

"Still pretending, are we?...what a charming duality.

You've done well hiding it all."

Noah said nothing.

He readied his stance.

The butler's calm demeanor twisted into quiet fury.

"Do you even remember what you did?" he hissed.

"Do you remember what you reset?"

"..."

"What are you talking about?"

The butler's mana flared, shattering the ground beneath him.

"All I wanted was to protect my most prized possession...my creation!"

"But you...YOU ended it all... just to start again!"

His voice rose with hatred.

"You made me take a route I didn't want to return to!"

The spear spun in Noah's hands, clashing against a burst of flame.

Sparks erupted, lighting the ceiling.

"Who are you?"

Noah demanded.

The butler's laughter echoed through the chaos, unhinged yet sorrowful.

Their blades clashed again spear against twin daggers glowing crimson.

Every strike shook the air, every impact scattering mana like shards of light.

Noah gritted his teeth, sweat mixing with blood.

"Stop hiding," the butler spat, knocking his spear aside.

"Show me those eyes!"

Noah steadied his breath, gaze sharp beneath the mask.

The air stilled.

"...You're not fooling me, Noah..."

The butler whispered, voice trembling between rage and grief.

Noah's hand rose slowly to his mask.

He removed it.

The silver fell away, revealing eyes that glowed faintly yellow.

He stared at the butler, the truth dawning painfully in both their gazes.

"…Are you the other transmigrator?"

Noah asked his brows furrowed as he clutched his spear.

"Tra-transmigrator?...

HAHAHAHAHAHHAHHAHA!!"

The orange haired butler said laughing.

He stretched his arms horizontally like he was about to perform an encore.

His legs pressed together at ease.

"Meet your creator...

I...am the Author!"