Before starting the chapter..I thank Tyler_rigby and balby_ror for showering the power stones....Thank you for the support .
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The Grand Magic Zone had gone silent.
Not quiet—silent. Not even the ash dared to fall now.
Kael stood at the edge of a broken plain where the earth cracked open like split skulls. The air reeked of mana so dense it wept blood. Every breath he took was violence distilled. His body twitched beneath layers of pain. Bones creaked. Runes flickered.
And somewhere beneath all of that—
He smiled.
Because tonight, the world would bleed with him.
---
They came at night.
Twelve of them. Mage-Hunters. Men and women wrapped in silver-tethered armor, each bearing a cloak marked with the Clover Kingdom's sun sigil, inverted—blackened. Eyes sharp, bodies hardened by war, magic potent and efficient.
They weren't nobles. They weren't devils.
They were worse.
Sanctioned. Clean. Holy.
The kingdom had grown curious.
Reports of magic distortions. Corpses twisted into monuments. Black Bulls informants whispering about a boy in the Zone. So they sent hunters.
Not to question.
To cleanse.
Their leader, Captain Rhys Verrin, stood at the head. His voice cold, precise.
"Find him. Bind him. If he resists, erase him."
No speeches. No drama.
Just procedure.
---
Kael saw them arrive.
Felt them long before they touched the dirt. Their mana was bright and sharp—like scalpels. They didn't belong here. The Zone didn't recognize them. And neither did he.
He sat cross-legged before a field of bones—offerings from the last beasts who tried to consume him. His body had changed. His mind, twisted.
He whispered.
"Symphony of the Damned."
His grimoire flared open.
The blank pages bled ink.
---
They made first contact at the ridge.
The youngest hunter—a girl named Ilyna—stepped on what looked like soil. It screamed beneath her boot. Not in sound. In her head. Her thoughts unraveled.
She looked down.
Not dirt.
Teeth.
The earth had been formed from pulverized skulls, flattened and grown over by fleshroot—a magical parasite that feeds on suffering.
It erupted.
From the mouth-shaped ground, tendrils burst out—long, wet, screaming cords of sinew and muscle, flaying her legs before she could blink.
She didn't even get to scream.
Her throat opened up—vertically.
Not by blade. By command.
Kael watched from the dark. One word left his lips:
"Unlace."
Her body came apart like a puzzle, every limb detaching from her core as if unbuttoned by invisible fingers. She hovered midair—disassembled. Still conscious.
Still alive.
Rhys snarled. "MOVE."
They attacked.
---
Kael didn't fight like a mage.
He fought like a curse.
When the first fire spells came—he didn't block.
He inhaled.
His lungs, burnt and blackened, drank flame like air, glowing violet through torn ribs. The flames fed the runes across his chest, causing his shadow to expand, long and skeletal.
He raised one hand.
It held no weapon—only shattered bone from a long-dead devil.
And he whistled.
The ground responded.
From beneath the hunters, limbs rose. Not undead. Not summoned.
Memory constructs.
Each one a victim they had killed in silence. Villages erased. Forests burned. Children left to rot.
Kael had found the remnants.
And now he played them like strings.
Hands of blackened grief grabbed the hunters by their legs.
One was dragged into the soil—face first—and what came back up wasn't human. Just screaming lips on a long, red cord.
Another tried to fly—only for his wings to snap inward. Not break. Invert. The bones folded through his chest. He gagged. Choked on his own spine.
Kael moved without mercy.
He walked forward, barefoot, each step ringing like chimes of a funeral bell.
The third hunter rushed with a blade of sunlight.
Kael didn't dodge.
The blade cleaved into him—
—And stopped.
Inside his body, the light fizzled. Died.
Because his blood rejected purity. The magic recoiled, screamed, and killed its user from the inside out.
The hunter's eyes turned gold. Then white. Then empty.
His skull burst.
---
Captain Rhys activated his sigil.
A magic field bloomed: anti-curse. Anti-shadow. Everything Kael used—nullified.
The Zone itself screamed in protest.
Kael staggered, his chains flickering.
Rhys moved in, blade forward, chanting:
"Sacred Wound—Judgment Slash!"
He struck.
And Kael split—
Not his body—
His soul.
For a moment, Kael stood in two halves.
One was the boy who cried in the forest.
The other—
Was a thing made of rot and rebellion.
And the two halves screamed—
Then fused.
The blade shattered.
Rhys stumbled back.
Kael grinned—eyes glowing silver-violet.
"I don't need magic…"
He raised his arm—left, no longer human.
"…to ruin you."
---
He lunged.
The strike didn't land on flesh.
It landed on mana—
Raw soul fabric.
He ripped it open.
Rhys convulsed. His aura shattered like porcelain. Blood geysered from his pores.
Kael took his blade.
Not to use it.
But to feed it into Rhys' mouth—sideways.
Rhys gagged. Coughed.
And Kael cast:
"Deafen the Choir."
The spell didn't hurt Rhys.
It hurt everything around him.
Every living cell in the radius of his heartbeat exploded with screams—not theirs, but the ones they had ignored.
Villages slaughtered. Witches burned. Prayers unanswered.
All of it poured into their ears.
Their eardrums liquefied.
Their eyes popped.
One tried to crawl away—only for Kael to place a foot on her back, and push.
She folded—literally folded—until her spine was a circle and her heart beat from her mouth.
He didn't even blink.
---
Three remained.
One begged.
A former nun-turned-mage, voice shaking:
"We didn't choose this…"
Kael stepped toward her, quiet.
He whispered:
"Neither did I."
She cried, trying to cast a barrier.
Kael placed a hand on her chest.
Her heart stilled.
Then reversed.
It beat backward.
Pulled blood from her limbs into her chest until her lungs drowned.
She dropped, twitching, a pool of her life spreading in the shape of a grimoire.
Two left.
They tried to run.
Kael let them.
Not out of mercy.
But because the Zone didn't like cowards.
The air thickened.
Spines grew from clouds.
One tripped—and fell into a pool that hadn't been there.
It looked like water.
It wasn't.
It was memory fluid—Kael's.
The moment he was thrown away.
The moment his left arm was torn off.
The moment he died—but didn't.
The hunter drowned in Kael's past, lungs filling with screams and sorrow.
When he floated back up, he was Kael.
Not truly.
Just a mimic—flesh reformed into a mockery of him.
It laughed.
Kael erased it with a thought.
---
Only one left.
He didn't run. Didn't cry.
He knelt.
"Please…"
Kael stood before him.
This one hadn't attacked.
This one had only watched.
A rookie.
His hands trembled.
"Am I going to die?"
Kael looked down.
And for a moment—just a breath—there was hesitation.
Not mercy.
Just reflection.
This boy reminded him of himself.
Not the power.
Not the magic.
The silence.
He spoke.
"You came to kill me because someone told you I was a threat."
A nod.
"Would you have questioned it?"
The boy hesitated.
"…No."
Kael lowered his hand.
"You were dead the moment you obeyed."
The boy looked up, eyes wide.
Kael turned to leave.
And the boy lunged.
A blade, hidden.
Kael didn't flinch.
He whispered:
"Ashen Baptism."
The boy caught fire—not orange, not red.
Black.
He didn't burn.
He peeled.
Layer by layer, as if erased by invisible razors.
His final breath came as a song—
A scream tuned to regret.
---
And then…
Silence returned.
The field was no longer a battlefield.
It was a grave orchestra.
Limbs posed in arcs.
Spines twisted like cellos.
Skulls cracked into drum heads.
Kael stood in the center, blood-soaked, ribs exposed, eyes hollow.
He had not won.
He had ended.
And the Zone bowed.
Trees leaned.
Ash formed a circle around him.
His grimoire opened.
And turned its second page.
Three words:
"All must end."
---
Far away…
Yami Sukehiro stood at the edge of a cliff.
He had felt it.
That wasn't devil magic.
That was something worse.
He exhaled, cigarette shaking.
"Kael…"
He looked into the horizon.
"He's ready."
---
And in a place beyond—
Where gods hung like ornaments in a dead sky—
A voice laughed.
Not in mockery.
But in adoration.
Because something new had entered the world.
Not a hero.
Not a villain.
But a Symphony.
Of the Damned.
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Thank you for reading, hope you guys have a nice day, leave your thoughts, your findings of plot hole or any doubts, I will answer every question that you guys are gonna ask....have a nice day ><.