“During World War II, the US military established airfields on various islands in the South Pacific to use as supply bases. Decades after the war ended and the military withdrew, scholars returning to the region discovered that the islands’ indigenous people had built altars resembling airfields, praying as they waited for a divine messenger called an ‘airplane’ to bring gifts from the sky.”

  — The Jupiter Archives, Cargo Cults: The Moment Technology Becomes Magic

  It must have been something no one could have anticipated. A lightning strike, of all things, at that exact moment. The pursuers, swept up in the sweet madness of the pitch-black night, couldn't have known. Neither could the blood-soaked woman fleeing desperately for her life, nor, of course, the infant boy sleeping soundly in her arms, enveloped in a faint blue halo of light. Lightning on a pitch-black night amidst torrential rain was hardly a strange occurrence, but at that exact moment, in that exact place? Regardless, the bolt struck perfectly between the hunted and the hunters, throwing them all to the soggy grass.

  “First! Are you alright?” someone shouted among the pursuers, who were scrambling from the sudden shock. They all wore black masks and uniforms tinged with a faint crimson glow.

  “Ugh. I’m fine. Catch that damn bitch!” barked the masked figure sprawled near the front, clutching his right shoulder.

  “It’s not like there’s anywhere to run in this wasteland anyway...” Even as he spoke, the masked man who had first called out to First drew a Taser and aimed it at the woman writhing on the ground in the distance.

  Something trailed by a thin wire shot from the barrel, embedding itself in the back of the woman just as she tried to stand. Sparks flared vividly in the dark. A horrific shriek pierced the pouring rain. The woman collapsed again, thrashing wildly as she screamed.

  “She doesn’t even have the power to deflect spells any—huh?” The man paused, his smugness faltering. To his shock, the fallen woman was bringing her trembling hands together, muttering something. And then—

  “Teleportation!”

  For a fleeting second, the bundle she had held so tightly to her chest drifted upward before vanishing in a blinding flash of light.

  “How could she cast a spell like that while wearing magic-dampening cuffs? Did the lightning break them?!”

  “Damn it, Reapers, don’t use magic! Subdue her! Now! Hurry!” First shouted, a sudden panic in his voice.

  The other pursuers hesitated no longer. They drew swords from their waists and lunged. Strangely, a soft crimson light emanated from their blades. In an instant, several glowing longswords were aimed at her neck, chest, and waist. She was pinned, utterly immobilized.

  “Tenth!”

  “Y-yes!”

  A masked figure stepped forward awkwardly. First tossed him a flat, pitch-black phone.

  “Report that we have her. You know how to use it, right?”

  “Um... I’m sorry, I’m not very good at using the phone...”

  “Ah, damn it, you can’t even use that?” Tenth flinched at First’s scolding.

  “My magic level is still too low... the success rate isn’t great...”

  “I’ll do it!” Another Reaper quickly stepped in, snatching the phone from the youngest.

  Clicking his tongue, the commander of the pursuers turned his attention back to their captive. He ground his teeth, stepping slowly toward her.

  “Empress, do you really think this will keep the Crown Prince hidden? You’ve only made things much worse for yourself. Of course, the Emperor ordered us to bring you back alive.” The commander’s eyes gleamed with cruelty beneath his mask. “So you won’t die, but then again, that just means we only have to keep you breathing. Heh.”

  As he spoke, he jabbed his scabbard against her rain-soaked chest. Raucous laughter erupted from the circle of pursuers. Only one masked man flinched slightly, but the pouring rain and darkness hid his reaction. The Empress, who had kept her eyes shut tight while gasping for breath, flushed bright red with humiliation. Stepping closer, First grabbed her chin and growled low.

  “So do us all a favor and cooperate quietly. You know a spell-coordinate tracing will reveal everything anyway, right? It’s just a bit tedious. Don’t even dream of using magic again. If you do, you really won’t like what happens next.”

  But she merely bit her lip, offering no other response. First dropped the coaxing tone, turning to shout at his men.

  Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

  “Third, I’m giving you an hour. Backtrace the coordinates on that teleportation.” Glancing back at the Empress, he added, “You know she didn’t just use teleportation, right? She used levitation right before it, so don’t forget to factor that into your calculat—”

  “You sons of bitches!”

  She finally opened her eyes and her mouth. She was a ruin of soot and blood, but a fierce rage blazed in her wide eyes.

  “Do you even know why the Emperor needs that child?”

  “Who knows. We don’t need to know. We, the Io Reapers, simply do as the Emperor commands. Just like you said, we’re his hounds.” First smirked, his tone dripping with oily satisfaction. “Still, I doubt he’ll harm the kid, at least for a while. You should be worrying about someone else. I hear someone in your family helped with this little escape?”

  The Empress’s face instantly went pale.

  “No, that’s not true! I... I planned this alone, for a long time!”

  “Mm, that won’t do. If we failed to stop just you, we take the blame. But if we say your troublesome Cassandra family was involved, it saves our necks. Besides, the Emperor might want to make an example of them while he’s at it. They were already a thorn in his side.”

  “You despicable, filthy animals—”

  She choked, unable to finish her sentence through her boiling fury. As if her feelings didn’t matter in the slightest, First cut her off.

  “Quietly cooperate, and we might put in a good word for you.”

  Her head fell forward. Her face was so coated in rain, blood, and tears that her expression was unreadable. The only illumination came from the faint reddish glow of the dozens of swords leveled at her, making it look like a scene from a horror film. None of the surrounding pursuers seemed to care. For a moment, save for the sound of her sobs and the relentless downpour, silence hung in the air.

  “Alright then, Third, start the coordinate trace. It seems Her Majesty has rejected negotiations.”

  As if the words were a flare, the Empress suddenly snapped her head up, her body trembling violently. The pursuers stared at her pallid face and eyes rolled back, showing only the whites. As they recoiled in confusion, a deep, tearing voice spilled from her lips—entirely unlike a woman’s voice. It sounded like something not of this world.

  “—The Sky Isle shall fall to the final heirs!”

  It was a bleak, harrowing shriek that could not possibly belong to such a frail woman. While everyone froze, she brought her blood-soaked hands up to her chest. Her eyes shut tight once more, her face a mess of tears and rain—yet her expression was absolute.

  “Stop her! No!” First screamed in sudden panic.

  The nearest Reaper lunged at her, but it was too late. In the blink of an eye, a golden fire ignited near her heart, and an immense storm of light swallowed them all. A thunderous roar shook the earth.

  “So, my so-called imperial royal guard not only failed to bring back the Crown Prince, but you also let her spout that cursed prophecy? If the prophecy holds true, the Sky Isle is doomed. And what else? Suicide? That bitch? Ha. Unbelievable.”

  A group of masked figures in black lay prostrate on the red carpet rolling out before a golden throne, set in the center of a vast, circular hall. Their black uniforms were torn, and they were all drenched like drowned rats; none of them seemed to have even thought of drying off. On the throne sat an ordinary-looking old man adorned with an array of extravagant jewels. He leaned his elbow on the armrest, resting his chin in his hand, an amused expression on his face. Embroidered in gold thread on his chest was a crest—a circle enclosing a symbol resembling the number 4, but with the top-left stroke curving long and wide.

  “Yes, Your Majesty. Please, give us death.” A dry voice squeezed through the lips of the masked man prostrating at the very front. His right shoulder was charred black, as if suffering a severe burn.

  “Oh, yes, yes. Don’t worry about the dying part. I’m just deciding exactly how to kill you.” The Emperor tossed the words out like a joke, but the prostrate figures shuddered in unison, as if a freezing wind had just swept over them.

  “Did you run a coordinate trace to see where the Crown Prince teleported to? First?”

  First answered in a faintly trembling voice.

  “We attempted to, but in her final moments, she triggered a magical self-destruct—Aaaargh!”

  The Emperor raised his free hand and twitched his index finger. First’s right arm was systematically and thoroughly crushed, from the shoulder joint down to his fingertips. Even though no physical force was visible, blood seeped out, flesh mangled, and bones pulverized. The sight was so shocking that it drowned out even his horrific screams. It was only natural that terror rippled quietly through the other masked men, shivering with their foreheads pressed to the floor.

  “That bitch? Whether she fell from grace, betrayed me, or became the target of my hunt, she is my Empress. Show some respect. Shouldn’t you?” The Emperor’s gaze drifted toward the ceiling, his tone remaining macabrely cheerful. “Well... anyway. Her self-destruction scattered the magical flow, so you couldn’t trace the coordinates. Is that what you’re telling me?”

  “Y-yes, Your Majesty.” First squeezed out his reply, leaving nothing but a bloody pulp where his right arm used to be.

  “The Crown Prince is missing, and my lovely Empress has died leaving only a cursed will, taking my loyal subordinates with her to the afterlife... The last descendant of the sky... Terrible. Just terrible...”

  He murmured as if lost in thought. For a moment, only the sound of the Emperor’s long, pale fingers tapping against the armrest echoed through the massive hall.

  “Hmm. It’s too much of a waste to just give up... Second, want me to show you something fun?”

  “Pardon? Yes, Your Majesty.” A slightly smaller Reaper beside First answered.

  Then, in absolute silence, the Emperor waved his hand again. The rest of First simply vanished, as if rubbed out by a giant eraser. To the Reapers, once again engulfed in shock and horror, the Emperor flashed a bright smile and tossed out a casual remark.

  “Ta-da! Now you’re First, my friend. This is what we call magic.”

  The Emperor sprang up from his seat. He strolled over to the new First, who remained frozen on the floor, patted him on the back, and whispered in a voice full of playful mischief.

  “Since you’re First now, hurry up and take the boys to annihilate the Cassandra family. Make the official reason... abduction of the Crown Prince, or something. Throw them all into Heloljai. Once that’s done, we can have a little chat about those arrogant Siana bastards. Oh, and here’s a gift to celebrate your promotion.”

  The Emperor crouched in front of First and abruptly thrust out his pinky finger. As First cautiously raised his head, a tiny prick appeared on the Emperor’s fingertip, as if pierced by a needle. A single drop of blood popped out, hovering in the air as a perfect sphere.

  “Drink up. I worry you might lack competence, much like your predecessor.”

  “T-this is... holy blood...!” First’s eyes widened. “Thank you, Your Majesty. I will absolutely meet your expectations.”

  “Of course you will. Once you drink that, you’ll become a so-called grandmaster, whether in magic or swordsmanship.”

  “A-a grandmaster...!”

  Whether First was shocked or not, the Emperor stood back up and ambled over to his throne, taking a seat. Glancing around nervously for a moment, First tilted his chin and slurped the hovering drop of blood. Then, he sat perfectly still, brimming with expectation. Watching him, the Emperor let out a booming laugh.

  “First, it’s not like you’re going to feel the strength of a tiger surging through you the moment you swallow it. The changes will happen gradually over a week or a month, so don’t be too impatient. Just relax, round up the Cassandra family, and wait. Now, all of you, get out.”

  “Yes, Your Majesty. I shall serve you with all my—”

  “I said get out.”

  “Yes, sire.”

  The Emperor watched the masked men scramble backward out of the hall. He rubbed his forehead with his long, pale fingers, sinking deep into thought.

  “Hmm... I should be able to find him in ten years, right? I really must find him...”