Chapter 18
Reflexively, Theo raised his arm to shield his face from the blast.
But the force pushing him back was too great, sending him sliding uncontrollably as if the earth itself wanted to keep him away from the two flames devouring each other.
His feet scraped the ground, carving long marks that sounded like the groan of the earth.
Each friction lit up pain that crawled through his calves and ankles.
Yet Theo did not stop.
He knew his body was rejecting a power that wasn't his own—some kind of aura wave, or the lingering clash of energy radiating between two swords that hadn't even met.
The air around him trembled, producing a humming that could be felt by the body, not the ears.
'Damn it, I almost fell.
A little more carelessness, and my body would've been thrown who knows where.
Luckily, my passion for writing still burns—never fading, not even a little.'
Fuuuuhhh!
'My passion for writing, even after all the time I've spent in this world—amidst scripts, characters, and plots that often collapse on their own—remains the only thing keeping me upright.
I must stop them.
I have to.
Not because I side with anyone—no.
But because this battle… it's not time for it to begin.'
Tsuuuuff!
'Their conflict shouldn't heat up until the seventh episode.
Maybe closer to eight or nine, according to the flow I've designed and played.
But now? This is still the first arc, mid–episode five—too early, too rushed.
This world isn't ready to see them destroy each other.
If I don't interfere now, this story will stray far from what was intended.'
Theo nearly fell, his body swaying amidst swirling dust like a dream's mist refusing to fade.
Every breath came heavy, as if the very air rejected his existence.
The shock of that energy clash still lingered in his bones, vibrating softly like an echo that refused to die.
Yet within that near-collapse, something inside him stayed alive—a small, stubborn flame that could not be extinguished, no matter how weary or chaotic things became.
It was the spirit of a writer—the will that once kept him awake through countless nights under the dim glow of a screen, the same burning even after the world he had built and imagined crumbled with the fall of Flo Viva Mythology.
That fire, burning for no reason other than to keep existing, was the reason Theo didn't fall this time.
He forced himself upright, struggling to balance amid the cyclone of air born from the clash of two powers ahead.
Through the haze of his fading consciousness, Theo knew he wasn't witnessing an ordinary battle.
Two immense wills were colliding, and the world around them was adjusting to survive.
And there, his resolve grew.
'To stop them both.'
Not because he took sides, nor from pity or personal ties.
But because he knew—it wasn't time.
The scenario wasn't meant to unfold this quickly.
The arc that should've bloomed later was opening too soon, like a flower forced to blossom in the middle of winter.
Theo remembered clearly the order the story should follow.
The middle of episode five in the first arc was only meant to plant tiny seeds of conflict between them—suspicion, dislike, and wounds yet to be realized.
Their grand battle was supposed to shake the world in episodes seven, eight, and nine, when every character had taken their rightful place upon the stage.
Now, everything had leapt forward, tangling the threads of the tale he once knew by heart into chaos beyond prediction.
Something had changed—whether by the will of the world itself or an unseen hand tampering with fate's course.
'Come on, Theo, don't just stand there.
Move your feet—one step at a time.
A little more.
You can't just be a spectator in the story you wrote yourself.
Keep going.
Don't let them be trapped in a mistake that shouldn't have happened yet.
You must get closer.
You have to stop them before it's too late.'
"If this is truly fate, Aldraya—then face me with all your soul."
"Brassuth, Iduona, Kuma!!"
'This is insane.
I just got here, and now I'm being forced to act as the referee for an absurd duel between two girls who shouldn't even be fighting in this arc.
Damn it, why me?'
"Hey! I'm not the referee here! You hear me?
Stop! It's not your time to duel! I said—"
Boom!!
When Theo finally crossed the distance between the two blazing poles of power, only one thought flashed through his mind—how to break this circle of foolishness before everything collapsed.
He came gasping, his knees trembling slightly, but his determination unchanged.
'To stop this foolish battle that shouldn't even exist.'
Yet as he drew closer, something made his body freeze.
There was a strange calm on Erietta's face—not peace, but the hollow stillness of a soul emptied of all emotion.
She stood tall, as if created for one purpose only—
To challenge Aldraya with every ounce of her strength.
No rage overflowed, no doubt trembled in her hands—and that was what made her terrifying.
Aldraya was no less silent.
Her face remained still, like a statue stripped of expression, leaving only an unshakable firmness that could be arrogance—or absolute awareness of herself.
Then, without much movement, without anger, without excessive preparation, the two girls locked eyes.
In that stretched moment, time itself stopped, waiting for a signal that never came.
Until finally, Aldraya nodded—a simple gesture that rippled through the air around them.
At the same time, Aldraya's right hand and Erietta's left hand rose to the side, mirroring the pillars of some ancient forgotten rite.
The words came forth together, rippling through the air like a mantra that pierced layers of reality.
'Brassuth, Iduona, Kuma.'
From the space between them, the ground trembled, the air warped, and an arena formed—as if the world itself obediently yielded to the will of two beings refusing to bow to anyone.
Walls of light three times a human's height surrounded them, gleaming softly yet pulsing with something menacing beneath every flicker.
Theo, standing only a few steps away, was forced to retreat, his eyes wide between awe, fear, and frustration.
He knew that chant well.
'The Duel Oath Spell—a sacred ritual that cannot be undone unless one yields or falls.'
And within the echo of the mantra that hadn't yet faded, two pairs of eyes—neither filled with anger nor compassion—fixed straight on Theo.
Their gazes were cold, synchronized, and bore the same meaning.
To make him a witness—or rather, the referee—of the duel that would tear apart the balance of the entire Star Academy.
Before Theo could refuse, the world moved again, dust rose—and in an instant, the battle between the two girls began.
'Aldraya opens with Swing Val – Siond Moton, a soft motion like swirling mist, but the tip of her blade gleams sharp, thrusting straight for Erietta's chest.
Erietta parries the strike.
She counters with Fluche No, attacking from the right, her sword slicing through the air like a shadow—
swift and clever, but too open to match Aldraya's rhythm.
And now—look, Cransh Tarta from Aldraya.'
To be continued…