[The Spacetime That Might Exist] Levi

[Perhaps existing spacetime]

"The moments that changed my life were always related to magic," said Levi, the man with an eyepatch over his right eye, slowly.

In the distant past, before everything was torn apart by magic and war, Levi had a childhood bathed in sunlight.

In the heart of the Southern Lands at that time, his birthplace was not a wealthy place, but life was peaceful. His clearest memories of happiness are always associated with his brother's broad and kind back.

His brother would take him to the hillside behind the village, pointing to the distance and saying there was a sea there; on market days, he would carry him on his shoulders so that he could see the tricks of the acrobats; and under the starry sky on summer nights, he would tell him fragments of heroic stories about Himmel, the brave warrior from the distant Central Lands, which he had heard from itinerant merchants.

In those stories, heroes always triumph, justice always prevails, and the world has clear and bright boundaries.

His older brother was his hero, the sole shield of his little world.

Back then, Levi's smile was probably innocent and naive, believing that such days would flow on forever like the stream by the village.

However, life-changing moments are always unexpected and always related to magic.

The beginning of that memory is vague; I only remember it was when I was just starting to remember things.

A beam of light, a scorching and deadly arrow of light that did not originate from the sun, descended from the sky.

"Careful!"

It didn't hit Levi, but it took the life of his brother who was standing in front of him.

One second they were laughing and joking, the next they vanished in a blinding light and a deafening roar, without even a word of farewell.

His world was instantly and completely altered by that magic. That light was not salvation, but the purest form of deprivation.

Yes, it was just a single arrow of light falling from the sky that took his brother's life.

The adults around ran around in terror, shouting that the bullets were stray bullets misdirected during a battle between human armies in the distance, a product of magic going out of control.

Magic, this unfamiliar word, carrying the warmth and scent of his brother's passing, was etched deeply into Levi's mind for the first time. It had nothing to do with heroic legends, but was intimately connected with death and loss.

Although the Southern Lands where Levi was born were far from the influence of the Demons race, they were filled with conflicts between humans.

Magic is a tool for killing, so people often get caught up in magical street battles.

Such misfortunes can happen anywhere.

The environment at the time was just that crazy.

The second "magic" is still vivid in my mind and unforgettable.

It was a massive shockwave that descended from the sky.

When he returned from the neighboring village, the town he had lived in, his hometown, was nothing but ruins.

They took my father away.

They took Mother away.

Even the body could not be found.

No, according to the adults, the body seems to have been found.

But it's no longer human-shaped, so it shouldn't be shown to children.

What's even more shocking is this hell on earth.

They were merely "affected" by the struggle.

The magic used in the wars among the Southern Lands had long since exceeded the limits of human control.

The rain poured down, and the sky darkened.

Water droplets hit him, but he didn't feel them.

He just stood there, motionless, unaware of how many hours or days had passed.

He remembered that someone had spoken to him a few times, wanting to take him with them.

But he just stood there, motionless.

I've only heard that the person who unleashed the magic that "affected" the village was called something like "the Rebellious Witch" Minusi.

She was the one who sparked the war in the Southern Lands, for reasons unknown.

He is one of the "three Great Mages are currently the only humans left".

So that's how magicians are.

When the adults ignored me and left on their own, the surroundings fell silent again.

I can't remember why.

When he raised his head--

He discovered that the statue of the hero Himmel had fallen before him.

When Levi was a child, his parents often told him stories, such as the story of Himmel the hero.

Back then, my father would always talk about it with great enthusiasm, and my mother would touch my older brother's head, while my older brother would touch his head.

Everyone admired the hero Himmel when they were young; he was such a great hero.

I once wanted to be like him.

The boy, with his slightly thin frame, tried his best to lift the statue of Himmel.

He knew that this behavior was pointless.

Even so, a statue of a hero who brought peace to the world.

He shouldn't have collapsed in a place like this.

But doing so really makes no sense.

As the boy thought this, his body was almost crushed by the statue, but he gritted his teeth and held on.

Doing this won't change anything...

Even so, the Himmel depicted in heroic tales would never simply stand there doing nothing.

Kindness?

He found a soldier.

The blond warrior, with a confident and calm expression, was dressed in magnificent clothes and was clearly a noble knight, but he said:

"Let me help you too."

Even though straightening the dusty statue stained his obviously expensive and luxurious cloak, he still came to help, and the two of them together straightened the statue of Himmel.

The statue of the great hero brought the two together.

The blond man handed him a bag of food, just dry bread of poor quality. It seemed even a luxurious knight couldn't live comfortably in a place like this.

Levi ate in small bites.

"Do you also admire the hero Himmel?" the blond warrior asked. "I became a warrior to protect my country because I admire him."

He looked somewhat dejected.

"I'm sorry I missed it. I don't ask for your forgiveness, just hate me."

Levi looked at him, his eyes seeming to brighten a little.

"Uncle, you're working hard to protect others from a very far away place, aren't you?" His eyes dimmed again. "You've done nothing wrong."

"... Children shouldn't say such things." The blond warrior didn't seem to think it was a good thing for a child to say such things.

Yes, he believes that it's actually better for children at this age to be a little more unreasonable.

"You're a good friend of my father's, aren't you?" Levi began. "I've met you a few times, so whether it's pain, helplessness, or regret, we're the same."

The blond warrior looked at Levi again.

"Didn't I tell you? Children shouldn't say things like that."

The blond warrior's name was Laile, and Levi later learned that he had once been the strongest warrior in the country.

He achieved remarkable results on many battlefields and was even hailed as invincible.

How ironic.

In the war-torn Southern Lands, the mere excuse of "not being there" could defeat an invincible warrior.

No matter how strong an individual's abilities are, they are still limited.

But what shone in that man's eyes was not surrender, but a kind of passion.

Young Levi reached out and grasped Laile's outstretched hand.

He became his apprentice.

"This place... the Southern Lands, is like hell," Laile began. "But everyone believed that as long as they fought hard, one day a hero would appear who would bring peace to the Southern Lands. But waiting was pointless; the hero never appeared."

"If I wish for peace, then I will achieve it with my own hands. If it were the brave Himmel, I would certainly do the same."

Looking back now, it was probably the story of the hero Himmel that rekindled Levi's passion.

Laile treated Levi as his own son, fulfilling the roles of both mentor and father.

Levi followed Laile.

Training days are tough.

Laile's demands were almost cruel. But after each exhaustion, there was always a bowl of hot soup on the wooden table. Every time he was injured, there were always rough but warm hands to bandage him.

"If it hurts, just yell out," Laile said. "There's no shame in it."

Levi shook his head.

He even thought that Laile was a bit too gentle, not cruel enough.

He saw a fleeting hint of approval and a touch of heartache in Laile's eyes.

He thought the child shouldn't do this, but he had no choice but to.

At night, they sat around the campfire. Laile polished his sword and told the story of the hero Himmel, and his vision of peace.

"It will happen," Levi said softly, his eyes reflecting the firelight.

Laile smiled and ruffled his hair. It was the first genuine smile Levi had ever seen in a long time.

Hope, like a carefully held flame, reignited in his heart.

The third life-changing magic came just as unexpectedly.

It was an ordinary evening. They were traveling through a valley bordering two countries, heading to a lord's castle who was said to be willing to make peace for negotiations.

"If a deal is reached, this area can enjoy some peace for now." Laile pointed to the map, his eyes gleaming. "It's a start."

Levi nodded, a sense of anticipation also in his heart.

Then, the sky changed color.

It wasn't a sunset glow, but an eerie, deep purple hue. The air suddenly became heavy, as if frozen.

"No!" Laile suddenly tackled Levi to the ground, shielding him tightly beneath him.

There was no loud noise, no explosion.

There was only a gust of wind.

A gentle, sweet-smelling, deep purple breeze swept across the entire valley.

Where the wind passed, the grass and trees withered instantly, turning into black ash. The rock surface hissed softly, eroding holes in it. The birds and beasts in the distant forest didn't even utter a mournful cry before stiffening and collapsing to the ground.

This is not offensive magic.

This is something far more terrifying—widespread, indiscriminate deprivation of life.

Laile's body pressed heavily on Levi, remaining motionless.

"Master?"

There was no response.

Levi, trembling slightly, crawled out from under Laile.

He saw Laile's face—those golden eyes that always shone with passion and determination, now open, but devoid of any luster. An ominous grayish-purple hue emanated from beneath his skin.

The hand reaching for the nose froze in mid-air.

There is none left.

There's nothing left.

That gentle breeze carried away almost all life in the valley. It also took away Laile.

Once again.

Magic stripped him of everything.

It's magic again.

He carried Laile's increasingly cold body for a long time.

Find a clean hillside, and with your hands and the broken sword, slowly dig away the soil.

During the burial, he found himself unable to cry. His eyes were dry and painful, and his throat felt like it was blocked by something.

It's just an empty shell.

A void even deeper than when their hometown was reduced to ruins. Because this time, even the small fire that had been painstakingly rekindled was completely extinguished by that purple wind.

It's magic again.

He sat in front of the new grave for three whole days.

At dawn on the fourth day, he stood up unsteadily.

He clutched a piece of cloth, stained with grayish-purple marks, torn from Laile's armor.

He knew whose magic it was. The style, the terrifying, silent way it took lives.

"The Rebellious Witch" -Minusi.

The process of revenge is a nightmare steeped in blood and pain.

He tracked, infiltrated, and utilized everything he had learned from Laile, as well as the deep-seated hatred within him.

Perhaps the concept of infiltration wasn't taught to him by Laile; Laile is a guy with a "warrior's honor."

But it doesn't matter. As long as I can kill the mage, it doesn't matter. A warrior's honor is nothing compared to this.

The best skill is the ability to kill. What does it matter if you're a stinking rat in the gutter, unable to see the light of day?

Finally, he found his opportunity.

The battle was brief but brutal. Levi's swordsmanship, honed by hatred, became sharp and deadly, but the witch's magic was unpredictable and elusive.

A dazzling white light, accompanied by excruciating pain that burned his soul, struck his face.

His right eye was instantly plunged into darkness and intense burning pain. The pain was unimaginable. If it were an ordinary person, they would have screamed in agony and perhaps even wanted to end their life to escape the pain.

But he didn't stop.

Pain became fuel. With the remaining vision in his left eye and the footwork taught to him by Laile from his memory, he poured all his strength and all his life into the final blow.

The sensation of the blade piercing flesh came through.

The witch's expressionless face froze in the blurred vision before she collapsed.

He succeeded.

Great Mage? Elf?

So what?

Aren't we just mortal beings? We're not immortal.

A person dies when they are killed.

He wanted to wipe magic out of this world completely, so that there would be no one like him.

The Proof of the Holy Staff?... Spoils of war, keep it.

I can just give it to whoever likes it later.

The boy... well, he doesn't seem to be a boy anymore. Anyway, he was kneeling in front of a tombstone.

Master, I killed the witch.

Using the most primitive methods.

In the midst of blood and darkness, I futilely reached out my hand in the direction where my master had fallen.

The third spell took Laile away.

And finally, completely, they killed that boy Levi, who had tried to grasp the sunlight.

Darkness is no longer just something seen by the eyes.

The man with the eyepatch over his right eye, Levi, the memory ends.

"Next... assassinate Serie, and make magicians a thing of the past in this world."