Ian's Impact on History

Torrential rain poured over the wilderness.

The muddy ground gleamed a ghastly white beneath the flashes of lightning. Ian and Kam had barely gained their footing outside the city when a bone-piercing chill struck from behind.

"Found you!"

Through the curtain of rain, a crimson figure emerged from a rift.

The Ghost Bride.

Dragging five pitch-black coffins behind her, she left frost blooming across the ground with every step, as if death itself were advancing upon them. Her red veil whipped wildly in the gale, her blood-filled maw slightly open, crimson eyes locked onto Ian like a hunter watching fleeing prey.

"She... caught up?!" Kam's voice trembled as he nearly collapsed to the ground. "Even Apparition couldn't shake her off?!"

Ian's expression darkened. He had thought the distance beyond the city would be enough to escape her, but her existence seemed to transcend spatial limits—she was not "pursuing" them. She was "destined to arrive."

"She doesn't rely on speed, nor is she tracking me," Ian murmured. "She has been 'defined' as having to find me. As long as I remain on this land, she will appear."

The Ghost Bride raised a hand. Blood-red threads lashed through the rain like whips, shooting straight for Ian's throat.

In response, Ian remained calm.

He was a wizard with trump cards.

And more than one at that.

Ian knew that if he brought out one of his trump cards, he could certainly escape this predicament. But now that the Ghost Bride had caught up, he still wanted to study the method behind her creation using conventional means.

That was precisely why—

The Ghost Bride's shriek tore through the night sky, her rotting wedding dress churning beneath the moonlight like a living thing. Ian could feel the structure of space-time around them warping—the embryo was