Over the next few days, Salem's condition gradually improved. Though the shock of being thrown into a world was still evident in his eyes, he was beginning to adapt, slowly coming to terms with this new reality.

  Kenneth and Salem had been formally adopted by the Fireon family, which provided them with the protection of the king's influence.

  One morning, Kenneth, Salem and Joash headed to the town square, accompanied by a couple of palace guards who kept a respectful distance behind.

  As they walked, Kenneth took in Joash's easy familiarity with the area. Joash moved through the crowd with ease that surprised Kenneth, especially given his status. But he'd soon learned that Joash, as the youngest member of the Fireon family, was mostly unknown to the public.

  The anonymity allowed him a degree of freedom, though for safety, he traveled under a different surname.

  During their walk, Kenneth gained a better sense of the Fireon family's standing. Since their fall, they had kept a low profile, quietly stepping back from the spotlight. Many of the traditional roles had been taken over by the other Elemental families, which further pushed the family into the background.

  “After the fall, it’s like we vanished from the world,” Joash said quietly as they made their way through the square. “But we’re still here, even if the world doesn’t see us anymore.”

  Joash led Kenneth and Salem to a familiar stall, one that immediately caught Kenneth’s attention.

  “This looks familiar, right?” Joash asked, pointing to the vendor grilling skewers over an open flame.

  Kenneth stared at the stall in surprise. “It’s just like the stalls we have at summer festivals in the mortal world.” He watched the vendor expertly cooking the skewers.

  As they bought their skewers and found a spot to sit, Kenneth turned to Joash, curiosity getting the better of him. “I thought fire didn't exist here anymore. How can they cook like this without fire magic?”

  Joash chuckled, taking a bite before answering. “I wondered the same when I was younger. After our family’s fall, there was chaos. So much of daily life relied on fire magic that, when disappeared, things nearly came to a standstill. That's when the king and the headmaster of Mageia Academy started bringing in technology from the mortal world to help. People here have adapted it, but there's part of me that wonders—if fire magic ever returns, will we still have the same place in society?”

  Salem was already halfway through his skewers, savoring each bit with a nostalgic smile. Kenneth noticed the way Salem seemed to relax, the familiar taste of the food grounding him in a way that words couldn't.

  Kenneth, still curious, asked, “Can they use this kind of fire to feed a pnevma?” The concept of pnevma had been on his mind lately, especially after rereading the novel. He knew that a pnevma needed an element to convert it into magic.

  Joash shook his head, a thoughtful look crossing his face. “I wondered the same thing once. But after looking into it, I found out that fire from the mortal world won't react to pnevma. Here, fire isn't just a natural element; it's entirely magical. It's tied to pnevma in a way that fire from the mortal word just isn't”

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  Kenneth leaned forward, intrigued. “So, fire here actually comes from magic? What kind of magic does that?”

  “Aether magic,” Joash replied, his tone dropping as he glanced around. “The first king of Anterthon used Aether magic to create five elemental magic: Fire, Water, Earth, Wind, and Light. He granted these elements to the five great families—Fireon, Maridian, Gairos, Mistral and Luminel. Only those with blood from these families can awaken them. It's something that gets passed down, generation after generation.”

  Kenneth's eyes widened, pieces falling into place. “So, when the Fire Guardian was killed… the Ultimate Fire vanished as well? And everyone who'd inherited fire magic—what happened to them?”

  Joash's face grew somber. “They lost it too. For those who had inherited fire magic, it was like their flames were snuffed out overnight. Without the Guardian's pnevma to sustain it, their connection to fire magic was severed. It was as if the very essence of fire had been erased from Anterthon.”

  A silence settled between them, heavy with the weight of what Joash had said. Kenneth couldn't shake the enormity of it—the idea that one person's death could erase an entire element from the world.

  But something didn't sit right. Could it really be as simple as the Fire Guardian's death causing the disappearance of the Ultimate Fire? Or was there more to it?

  Kenneth's mind drifted back to the passages he'd read in the novel, recalling the accounts of the final battle. Bernard Fireon hadn't just died—Ultimate Fire had been forcibly torn from him by some dark spell, like ripping the flame itself from the source. He began to wonder if this spell hadn't just extinguished the Ultimate Fire, but had bound or hidden it somehow, making its return nearly impossible.

  “There has to be more to it,” he murmured, almost to himself, his thoughts racing. If the spell had interfered with the natural passing of the Ultimate Fire, then restoring it wouldn't be as simple as reviving the family—it would mean undoing that dark magic, or whatsoever.

  Kenneth's thoughts whirled. If the Ultimate Fire had truly been extinguished, what was this fire he had awakened?

  ＊＊＊

  The man with a wolf mask stood in the shadows, his presence radiating barely contained fury. The oblivious mortal world continued on, unaware of the chaos brewing beneath its surface. Today was the day—the day the Nether Clan would finally take out the successor of Mistral.

  Too f***ing long. That’s how much time their target had wasted, slipping through their fingers at every damn turn. His patience was gone, replaced by a seething rage that demanded blood.

  A follower approached cautiously, his head bowed low, his voice trembling. “We’ve… lost track of the Mistral successor,” he reported, wincing as he spoke. “It seems she returned to Anterthon.”

  The man froze, his anger boiling over in a heartbeat. “Are you f***ing kidding me?” he snarled, his voice sharp enough to cut. “Someone f***ed with our plan.”

  He turned on his followers, his glare burning with unchecked fury. “Who the h*** was with her? Did you idiots see anyone while you were following her?”

  The follower flinched, stammering under the weight of his wrath. “N-no one, my Arch Lord,” he said hurriedly, “but… there was something odd. Before each of the successors disappeared, a blue-haired man was always nearby.”

  The room went deathly still as the realization sank in. The masked figure’s hands curled into fists, his nails digging into his palms. “Nero,” he spat, the name of a venomous growl. “That b*****d.”

  The rage bubbling beneath the surface boiled over, his voice rising. “F***ing Nero! Of course, it’s him. That meddling headmaster with his g*****n time tricks!”

  His mind raced, the pieces falling into place. Nero, the Headmaster of Mageia Academy, the one who could freeze time itself. That smug a****** had been screwing with their plans from the start.

  But then the masked figure paused, a thought creeping in through the haze of rage. Nero’s time magic—it wasn’t infinite. He could feel it, like a sixth sense. The b*****d was weakened.

  A dark smile crept across his face, cold and cruel. “So, the mighty Nero’s power is sealed, huh? F***ing perfect.”

  He turned to his followers, his tone laced with venomous amusement. “Good. With his time magic gone, we’ll move forward with the other plan. And this time, no one’s getting in our g*****n way.”

  His fists clenched tighter, his anger now focused into deadly intent.

  No more f***-ups—this time, he would make sure of it.