"We String Mages pursue truth. The Strings of Force may be truth, but they must never be God!"
Fane stared at the purple-haired beauty before him. The pain in his eyes swiftly hardened into resolve. "Even if God truly exists, God must have no will of his own. A Spellcaster's will is free. Nothing may stand above it."
"Lilith, your ideas are too dangerous. I can't let you endanger the Wesseland Federation—"
His eyes turned cold. No warmth or longing for the past remained. Radiance flared across his body, and his mental power surged like a great wave.
Lilith's vision blurred. A vast throne rose behind Fane, strange patterns twisting and spiraling across it before imprinting themselves on her mind.
"Throne of Will—" Lilith screamed and unleashed another siren's shriek. Her face twisted into something fearsome, but her eyes cleared as she snapped, "Fane, no matter how many years pass, you're still just as hypocritical! Is this what you call freedom of a Spellcaster's will?"
The Throne of Will was a String Sorcery woven from Spirit Strings and Light Strings. It let the caster's will rule an opponent's, as though a king had descended to command them.
"This is a necessary sacrifice to awaken you, Lilith. One day, you'll understand why I'm doing this."
Fane spoke gravely.
"Heh! Fane, I'm delighted you came back to life." Lilith laughed instead. Her purple hair flew as her voice turned icy. "Because it turns out I still want to kill you with my own hands!"
As Lilith and Fane fought, several Weavers who had stayed out of the battle could not help glancing at Fane.
Aldrick Fane?
One of the High Tower Institute's founders and its first headmaster—a great figure long rumored dead—had seized another person's body and come back to life.
Bang!