PAF 01

Chapter 1

It was over.

Now, it was truly over.

The grand mission to which I had dedicated my entire life had finally reached its conclusion.

I opened my mouth, a wave of genuine relief washing over me.

“This whole business is finally over. A better world is coming.”

Beneath my feet, suspended in midair, a massive castle lay spread out like a painting. It possessed sturdy, gold-plated walls, lavish gardens brimming with rare blossoms—each individual flower worth more than a pouch of gold coins—and an absurdly clear artificial lake carved into its center through an immense sacrifice of manpower and wealth. It was a picturesque domain, the exact sort of fairy-tale palace commoners could only dream of.

It stood as a monument to the history of the most affluent, brilliant, and utterly deceptive empire in human history—a sprawling monument built entirely upon the backs of the exploited.

From behind me, the voices of my companions drifted over the wind.

“I-Is it really over once we destroy that?”

“You’ve worked so hard…”

“Those Imperial bastards. They sure had long lifelines. Let’s settle all our contracts now and finally be free.”

“Thank you for coming this far with us. I am deeply indebted to you, and I will surely repay you someday. No… I suppose our true beginning starts right now.”

These four, who had stood by my side until the bitter end, were the ones who had anticipated the Empire’s total annihilation more than anyone else.

Though it was all about to crumble into dust, the Empire’s immense wealth—along with the imperial family and corrupt nobility who had hoarded it—had proven to be a monstrous obstacle throughout our journey. Had I been alone, without these four, reaching this final threshold would have been nearly impossible.

I raised the grand staff in my hand, drawing upon the vast wellspring of my power to cast the final spell that would erase the Empire from existence. As the overwhelming magic roared to life, a gentle breeze began to swirl around my robe.

Now, at long last, the Empire was set to fall.

It would fall by my hands—the hands of the supreme archmage known throughout the lands as the Azure Flame Mage.

Perhaps because the finish line was finally in sight, a sudden flicker of tension made me pause and glance back at the four standing behind me.

In an instant, the tension snapped, and I let out a dry chuckle.

“What’s all this?”

They were holding a bottle of fine wine, pouring it carefully into a set of pristine glasses.

“Please, have a glass. You worked the hardest out of all of us, didn’t you?”

I accepted my share of the offer. The slender stemware, crafted from brilliant, light-refracting crystal, was a luxury item reserved strictly for the high nobility of the Empire.

“Are we really toasting the Empire’s ultimate demise in Imperial style?”

When the cork was pulled, a rich, velvety fragrance bloomed into the air like mist—the unmistakable scent of fully ripened, immaculate grapes. This particular aroma could only originate from the sacred vineyards of the grand temple, steeped heavily in holy power.

“This was made at the temple, wasn’t it?”

“Y-Yes, that’s right. You always favored this blend. So… I thought it would be nice to celebrate our victory with it on a day like today…”

Since it had been prepared by our resident temple initiate, the vintage was guaranteed to be of extraordinary quality. Yet, woven beneath the rich fruitiness was a subtly sweet, intricate undertone—a scent that could only exist if a very specific, delicate herb had been infused into the brew.

The drink my four companions had painstakingly prepared felt as though it carried every ounce of resentment they held toward the regime.

A crystal glass that mocked the Empire’s obscene wealth.

A divine wine that exposed the Empire’s sacred hypocrisy.

An infused herb that symbolized the Empire’s suffocating arrogance.

And this very moment, which brought them all together.

The bottle completed its rounds, filling each glass in turn, before tilting toward mine to top off the pale liquid.

“I’m actually a bit nervous.”

“What is there to be nervous about? Just enjoy it like you always do. We wouldn’t even be standing here if it weren’t for you.”

“Yeah. You’re right about that.”

I laughed out loud, making no effort to feign modesty. In a moment like this, acting humble would have been an insult to their sacrifices as well as my own.

This victory was, perhaps, an ending they had desired even more desperately than I had. Truth be told, I had functioned more as their enforcer and guide than a grand savior.

It was only natural for them to prepare something special for me. After all, if not for this holy cause, the five of us—people from entirely different walks of life—would never have crossed paths in the first place.

For me, gaining these trusted companions was far more meaningful than fulfilling my goal of crushing the Empire. Honestly, when I first set out on this blood-soaked path, I never imagined our bond would turn out this profound.

As I lifted my glass, everyone stepped forward and clinked their crystal stems together.

Clink.

The crisp, bell-like ringing of fine crystal echoed through the high sky, and I was the first to down the commemorative drink in a single, smooth gulp.

Four pairs of burning, unblinking eyes remained fixed intently on my lips.

It felt like a trailing trace of liquid ice traveling down my throat.

The breath I exhaled after swallowing was extraordinarily sweet.

This sensation—of my heart pounding so wildly in my chest on the very cusp of absolute victory—was surely not caused by the alcohol alone.

After emptying the vessel, I casually flipped my wrist, tossing the glass toward the abyss below. Watching the jewel-like crystal drop toward the distant palace, I raised my staff high once more.

“Now, let’s…”

The words caught in my throat, and my footing suddenly gave way.

Was I truly that anxious before the grand finale? I felt as though the spirits were hitting me far faster than usual. No… that made no sense. I didn’t have a low tolerance for alcohol.

I let out a heavy breath and tried to force my legs to steady.

“Now…”

My vision lurched again, and I staggered sideways. I blinked rapidly, but the sprawling Imperial castle—which had been crystal clear just seconds ago—was now a smeared, flickering blur.

‘What is this…?‘

‘Something is wrong.‘

I rubbed my eyes violently with the back of my hand. But when even the blurry contours of the land began to fade into total grayness, cold dread settled in. My body was rapidly shutting down.

Then, the burning sensation that had been smoldering in my chest suddenly erupted outward with terrifying force.

“Cough! Ugh…!”

My hand lost all strength, and my staff plummeted into the sky. The agonizing sensation of my internal organs being brutally torn apart forced me to collapse to my knees, clawing at my throat.

What was happening all of a sudden?!

“What’s wrong?”

“…?”

“What? What happened?”

“Is there a problem?”

Sensing that my reaction was abnormal, they rushed closer.

They acted as if they knew absolutely nothing.

I stared with wide, bloodshot eyes at the crystal glasses remaining in their hands. Unlike mine, which lay shattered thousands of feet below, their glasses were still filled to the brim with shimmering, untouched liquid.

‘No way… The drink I just had…?!‘

“You… you bastards… cough…!”

The moment I tore my hand from my mouth to scream at them, the thick, hot mass I had been desperately suppressing tore through my throat and burst free.

As I caught the distant sight of someone screaming and rushing toward my collapsing frame, my muscles seized entirely, and my body toppled sideways like a felled log.

Thud.

“Gasp… ugh… cough!“

Muffled frantic voices—“What is it? What’s wrong? Get a hold of yourself! Hey, stop joking around!”—echoed above me before rapidly fading into static.

My trembling hands overflowed with dark, coagulated blood that spewed from my lungs. The metallic stench of gore mingled nauseatingly with the lingering, sweet perfume of the temple wine on my lips.

My field of vision bloomed into a blinding crimson, as if every capillary in my eyes had ruptured simultaneously. The blurred light faded away completely, plunging my world into pitch darkness.

I tried desperately to read their expressions as they hovered over me, but I could no longer discern their shapes. Someone was shouting, but the words slurred together into meaningless noise.

With every mouthful of blood that surged past my lips, the vast ocean of mana circulating through my veins evaporated into nothingness.

“Why… why…?!” I muttered in a daze.

It was Spirit-Severing Venom—a lethal, legendary poison created for the sole purpose of murdering archmages.

More than overwhelming rage, what filled my mind was pure, bewildering absurdity.

Why?

There was no reason for this! None at all!

We had all stood on this peak with a single, shared purpose. In truth, they were the ones who had wished for the Empire’s destruction far more desperately than I ever had! I hadn’t dragged them along to fulfill my personal greed; I was the weapon forged to realize their vengeance!

How could they betray me now?!

Yet… as my fading mind raced, a terrifying thought surfaced.

Come to think of it… every single one of them were individuals who could have been bought off by the Empire under the right conditions.

Who was it?

The one who had suggested the toast?

The one who had brought the crystal glasses?

The one who had provided the temple vintage?

The one who had secretly infused the subtle herb?

‘…Which motherfucker was it?!‘

I wanted to scream the question into their faces. I wanted to tear them apart with my bare hands. But my voice, choked with thick clots of blood, yielded nothing more than a wet, dying gurgle.

A suffocating tsunami of betrayal consumed my soul.

The instant I felt a volcanic rage ignite within my chest, I felt the final tether of my life snap.

And then—

✦ ✦ ✦

“Hah… Dammit.”

I snapped awake, shivering violently in the cold. It was the same nightmare again. Always the same damn dream.

To wash away the foul, lingering disgust, I shoved aside the damp pile of rotting straw I had been sleeping under and forced myself upright. The moment I pushed open the creaking, half-broken warehouse door and stepped outside, the deafening noise of the slums crashed into my senses.

The sun was already hanging high in the sky. Another meaningless day had passed while I was trapped in the past.

“Tsk… Look at them all, working so hard just to stay alive.”

Directly ahead, a young boy was frantically shining boots just to earn a single copper coin. A few paces away, an older youth was shouting at the top of his lungs, desperately begging for even the roughest manual labor. A little pickpocket’s eyes gleamed with wolfish hunger whenever a passerby in decent clothing walked past, while an old beggar whined for spare change just to buy a bowl of slop that would barely stave off starvation for another hour.

For the record… out of all those wretched figures, I currently happened to hold the title of “the beggar panhandling.”

That’s right.

After dying once to a coward’s poison, I—the undisputed, strongest archmage in human history—had been reborn as a pathetic beggar rotting in the slums.

The unprecedented genius who stood at the absolute pinnacle of magic.

The Empire’s greatest, most terrifying threat.

The chosen mage destined to inherit the dragon’s will and deliver divine judgment.

Every bit of that glorious past had vanished like smoke in the wind.

I, who had once looked down upon the world from above the clouds, had been thrown headfirst into the filthy mire because of a single, naive mistake.

‘All because of those treacherous, ungrateful bastards…‘