Project Mage

Kintovar found herself trapped in the tendrils' grip. Her options narrowed with the Headmaster’s asserting her own dominance over her.

The Aqua Whirlwind barrier shattered and the psychic tendrils captured Roselle, Risebelle, and the unconscious Runebelle. Panic and despair washed over the two sisters.

Roselle and Risebelle, caught within the clutches of the psychic tendrils exchanged panicked glances.

"Roselle!" Risebelle cried out. She trembled once the tendrils tightened around her.

"Risebelle!" Roselle echoed, her blue eyes wide with worry. She struggled hard against the grip of the tendrils.

Meanwhile, Sybil's sword sliced through the psychic tendrils with remarkable ease. She was captured, but she was easily able to free herself from their grasp. Her control over wind magic allowed her to push back any tendrils that attempted to ensnare her, giving her a unique advantage.

‘Sybil, you've always had a lower magical affinity than most,’ her inner self pondered. ‘So why can you cut through the Headmaster's magic with such ease? Is this some kind of miracle?’

She continued to fend off the tendrils with her sword moving with a grace and precision that defied her limited experience with it.

‘Could it be... a latent power awakening within me? ‘Sybil wondered. ‘I've always been different, always felt like there was something more to me than met the eye. Maybe it’s just the beginning, a glimpse of what I'm truly capable of.’

Sybil felt a sudden surge of power coursing through her. Her hair flashed aqua and her eyes glowed with magical intensity. It was a breathtaking sight, and Sybil couldn't help but marvel at the newfound strength that had surged within her.

She swiftly dispatched the remaining tendrils, her movements now imbued with a grace and power that felt almost otherworldly.

"What... was that?" Sybil whispered to herself.

Sybil's eyes, still aglow with newfound power, turned toward the captive sisters.

"It's not the time to wonder," Sybil declared with a newfound resolve. "I need to free those three. “

"I must say, Kintovar," the Headmaster admitted with a wry smile, "I didn't anticipate you'd be so bold as to come after me like this. Your resourcefulness is impressive, but you’ve proven how one slip-up can be your undoing as a scientist. You see, my Extreme Magic was a trap. The real target was right here, by my feet."

The Headmaster gestured to the spot where she stood, and her yellow aura flared with renewed intensity. It was clear that she had planned this move meticulously.

"But it seems you've figured out the trap," she continued, "though you didn't realize where to strike. You were a fascinating opponent, Kintovar."

Kintovar's mind raced. She knew she was ensnared by the psychic tendrils and she needed to find a way out. She considered all of her options but at the same time, the Headmaster's words came ringing in her ears.

‘I don't have any cards I can play right this moment,’Kintovar admitted to herself. ‘But if my mind is destroyed, it's all over. I can't let that happen. If only I could…’

Kintovar searched hard for a way out of the predicament. She looked down and made one last effort to struggle free but only tightened the grip.

"This is it, Kintovar," the Headmaster taunted, her energy intensifying. "It's over for you. Say goodbye to your mind! Mind Destruction!"

The psychic onslaught surged forth, threatening to overwhelm Kintovar's mental defenses. It was a battle of wills, and Kintovar fought with every ounce of strength she could muster to resist the destructive force that sought to obliterate her consciousness.

Despite her valiant efforts, Kintovar found herself overwhelmed by the relentless wave of power. In her mind, she pushed back against the torrent of energy, but it proved to be an insurmountable force. She could feel her mental defenses crumbling. Despair washed over her upon the loss of her mind.

The Headmaster's dominance was too great and Kintovar's resistance began to falter. Her hands, which had been desperately pushing against the oncoming wave, trembled as they struggled to hold back the inevitable.

Risebelle, trapped within the psychic tendrils, called out desperately, "Kintovar!"

Roselle shouted, "Dr. Kintovar!"

Sybil who had been on her way to rescue them came to a sudden halt. Her eyes widened in shock upon seeing Kintovar’s struggle against the Headmaster's overwhelming power.

The sisters were still trapped. They were helpess at the moment and could only watch in horror as an explosion of psychic energy enveloped Kintovar. Her uniform bore the scars of the intense mental battle, and she began to descend slowly, her mind utterly destroyed just like Becky's had been.

Tears welled up in Roselle's innocent blue eyes and Risebelle's face twisted with anguish while witnessing the devastating outcome.

Sybil, overcome with shock and grief, rushed toward Kintovar's falling body, her heart heavy with the weight of their losses.

As Sybil rushed over to Kintovar. She cried out in despair, "Kintovar, NOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

Sybil reached Kintovar just in time to see her sunglasses drop off, and her headphones began to release static, a dangerous sign. Without hesitation, Sybil snatched the headphones and flung them away before they could explode.

The explosion echoed in the distance, but Sybil's quick thinking had averted further catastrophe. She turned her attention back to Kintovar, her heart heavy with grief.

Sybil, her eyes filled with tears and frustration, shouted defiantly, "Kintovar can't die like this! We won't let her!"

The Headmaster, still standing confidently looked at Sybil's curiosity. "'Sybil' was it? Sybil? Why have you turned against the Academy? With our guidance and without that custom technology, you could have been trained into a skilled wind mage, a true prodigy. You should have remained loyal instead of following this idiot around."

Sybil responded to the Headmaster's questioning while trembling. "Headmaster, You ask why I've turned against the Academy? Because the Academy was going to turn against me. For years, I struggled with my low-tier magic, barely able to conjure a simple wind spell. The Academy's teaching methods left me feeling worthless, like a failure destined for elimination."

She continued speaking stronger. She no longer quivered and with conviction said, "The Academy always taught us that technology couldn't rival magic, that magic was superior, but then Kintovar came along with her technology and she showed us that there was more to this world than just magic. She gave me a chance to be more than what the Academy thought I could be."

Sybil's eyes brimmed with tears, but she pushed on, "I sought out Kintovar, knowing that she might have me killed because I knew that she might be my only chance to survive! I chose to embrace technology because it gave me a chance to be more than just a low-tier mage that the Academy would discard without a second thought!"

She looked back at Kintovar’s dying body, "I…..I won't let the Academy's narrow-mindedness win. We will find a way to save Kintovar!"

Inside Kintovar's shattered mind, the words "game over" echoed relentlessly, like a haunting game screen. The overwhelming assault had left her consciousness in tatters and it seemed like there was no way out of this seemingly endless loop of despair.

But in the darkest corners of her consciousness, a flicker of her will remained. It was a tiny spark, almost extinguished, but it refused to die. It whispered to her.

"Varta... Varta..."

The voice called out to her, pulling her away from the abyss of despair. Slowly, memories began to coalesce around her, forming a fragmented scene of her past.

She found herself in a small room with barely any light. The walls adorned with sketches and blueprints. A man with long orange hair tied in a ponytail stood at a cluttered workbench. He wore a jacket and sunglasses. His attire was all to familiar to her.

"Varta, it's time for another day of technology," he said with a warm smile, his eyes filled with pride and affection.

In the fragmented memory, Kintovar trembled but she questioned her father, "Father, what are you working on? “

Her father was a beacon of hope even in the face of their dire circumstances. He looked at her with a reassuring smile. "Ah, Varta. I've been working on something remarkable. My next invention will be the one to free us from this wretched place. Haha! They may have imprisoned us on this island, but they can't chain our minds or our creativity! We'll find a way out, and when we do, we'll show the world the power of technology!"

He chuckled "Besides, who would've thought that we'd end up on an island with people who've never seen technology? Not only that, people who think Magic is superior. Can you believe this? It's like we’ve been transported in a whole different world. This is an exciting time for us scientists! We’ll show these uneducated mages what technology is all about!"

Kintovar soon found herself transported to a grim scene. Her father, standing tall and resolute, faced a group of mages who wore the emblem of the Magical Academy. The tension in the room was in the air, and Kintovar could sense the gravity of the situation.

The head mage spoke with authority. "Vartan, your execution has been scheduled for the next 14 days."

Kintovar's father, Vartan Kintovar, stared back at the mages with confusion. "Execution? What the hell is the meaning of this nonsense! I demand to know why I am being sentenced to death!"

The head mage remained stoic and offered no explanation. "You will be informed of the reasons in due time. All you need to know now is that your fate is sealed."

Kintovar's father quivered with anger and desperation. "This is an injustice! I have committed no crime worthy of execution! You can't simply take my life without reason or a fair trial!"

But his protests fell on deaf ears, and the mages began to escort him away, leaving Kintovar to watch helplessly as her father was dragged away to an uncertain fate.

Tears welled up in Kintovar's eyes while reliving this painful memory. The injustice of her father's impending execution was etched deeply into her heart.

In another memory, Kintovar found herself in a dimly lit corner of the small, cluttered room they called home. Her father, Vartan, sat hunched over a workbench covered in tools and half-finished inventions.

Kintovar's latest creation sat on the workbench—a small device with intricate wiring and circuits. She had spent countless hours meticulously crafting it. She only hoped that it would impress her father.

Vartan had a weary face from hunger and exhaustion. He examined the device with a critical eye. His once-vibrant orange hair now hung in disheveled strands.

Kintovar held her breath, awaiting her father's verdict. It was important to her that he found solace and distraction in her creations, especially in their dire circumstances.

After a moment of silent inspection, Vartan finally spoke, with appreciation and sadness. "You've done well, my dear. Your abilities knows no bounds. But..."

He trailed off, his gaze shifting to the meager scraps of food that remained in a corner of the room—a few stale bread crumbs and a nearly empty water flask.

Vartan trembled as he continued, "I wish I could eat, my dear. But those... 'Bastards,' as you would so aptly put it, stole our food rations. It seems they'll stop at nothing to break our spirits."

"One day, Father," Kintovar declared, her eyes shining with unwavering resolve, "they will pay for what they've done to us! We won't be prisoners forever, and we won't let them break us. I'll use my technology, and you'll use your genius, and together, you’ll see! We’ll find a way out of this place."

Vartan, despite the hardships he faced, managed a weak but proud smile at his daughter's words. He reached out and ruffled her hair affectionately, a glimmer of hope returning to his weary eyes.

"You have your mother's spirit, my dear," he said with pride. "With your brilliance, I have no doubt that we'll overcome this together. One day, our inventions will free us from this prison."

Kintovar sighed within the realms of her mind

"But you abandoned that idea...didn't you, Father..."