Bright, in the Fantadation

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Bright, the Eternal, stood in the face of the Deathless Dragon. Along with him stood the highest order of Magic Knights—the Right Hand of the King. Bright, in his usual yet nearly worn out attire, grasped his Undying Amulet and ordered the Deathless Dragon atop a cliff.

"Get back in the spell."

Flapping its wings, the Deathless Dragon remained in the air, staring at Bright and the Right Hand of the King.

"You and your kind disgust me. You've detained me for all these years, and yet you still refuse to give me freedom?"

"Do not make this harder for me, you impertinent dragon. I do not want to continue this fight." Bright scowled. He was starting to grow frustrated from the exchange with the Deathless Dragon. Their previous scuffle had ended up obliterating nearly a third of the mountain they were on.

The Dragon scoffed and showed its impertinence by blowing a powerful gust of air out its nostrils. It took all of Bright's strength to stay standing.

"Even after keeping me in that cursed cell for all that time, you still fail to understand my motivations? You must be thickheaded."

"You-" Before Bright could retort, the foul beast absconded, flying at a devastating speed toward the horizon.

"God fucking dammit." Bright frustratingly stomped at the ground in rhythm with his words. The ground began to crack under his feet, sending another chunk of the mountain to fall from the cliff. Bright was caught off-guard and had jumped away from the broken ground.

"The Council of Thirteen sends me out all the way to the Mountains of Kilmer, only for the subjugation request to end in vain." Bright muttered his frustration to himself.

After seismic activity ceased, the Right Hand of the King approached the highly famed Bright, careful not to trip over the myriad of debris that now covered the ground.

"Sir Bright, the Council of Thirteen has requested for your assistance."

Snapping back to reality, Bright turned his head and faced the Right Hand of the King.

"Again? Can't I have rest?" he said, sourly

"I'm afraid not. The Council of Thirteen has explicitly asked you, and Sir Clef for your assistance."

Sighing, Bright asks them a question once more. "Fine, how long until the meeting?"

"13 hours, Sir Bright."

"Fuck, I wish the world returned to normal."

Following the Right Hand of the King, Bright strode towards the residence of the Council of Thirteen. Entering a Magician's guild, he saw many faces, ranging from human to anthropomorphic. The surrounding individuals stared at Bright for a few seconds in awe.

A member of the Right Hand of the King, ignoring the masses, walked up to the receptionist and pulled out a card, handing it to her. The receptionist eyed him suspiciously.

"Does the black moon howl?"

"Only to startle the sun."

"The Council has been waiting, you may proceed."

Bright followed the Right Hand of the King as they approached a secluded door located at the back of the guild. A member of the group began casting a spell in front of the door.

"O, Hekate, cu înțelegere, dă-mi puterile tale"

The door shone a deep blue light before it opened for them to enter. Stepping inside, the group was met with a dimly lit corridor. Bright shuddered as a cold breeze flew past them.

As they approached a large wooden door at the end of the corridor, two Magic Knights standing on each side stopped them. After a few moments of inspecting each person, they opened the door. As it opened, Bright could see two other individuals within the Council room.

"I thought it was only Clef?" Bright switched his gaze from the Council room to the Right hand of the King, questioning them.

"The situation was grimmer than we had expected, Sir Bright." A member of the Right hand of the King responded.

Turning back to face the Council room, Bright approached the two other individuals in his nearly worn out attire. A bit bloodied, Bright cast a small healing spell on himself in an attempt to keep the floor clean.

Asclepius, vindecă-mă.

There he approached Clef, a tall and imposing Magic Knight. He donned his usual knightly armor, juxtaposed with his magic-imbued sword. Standing at the pinnacle of what it meant to be a knight, Clef was also highly-talented in magic, being able to conjure spells without the need of a wand. Clef was the symbol of fear in the magic society, enforcing laws and disciplining individuals who were out of line.

"What happened to you?" Clef gibed.

"Shut your mouth, I was dealing with 682." Bright responded.

Similarly, before Bright approached him, Clef was having small banter with Xyank. Earning the title of "Manipulator of Time" at the young age of 18, Xyank was one of the most renowned magicians in the magic society. Wearing his cloak, Xyank often had a large light-blue orb hover around him, which he used instead of a wand to conjure spells.

"Clef could certainly do a better job than you have." Xyank mocked.

"You know damn well he was nowhere near the Mountains of Kilmer." Bright retaliated.

"Who knows? Maybe he could've gotten there faster than you have." Xyank shot back.

"You damned-" Bright was interrupted by the Council of Thirteen.

"Bright, the Eternal. Clef, of Merciless Apathy. Xyank, Manipulator of Time."

The 4th Grand Watcher proceeded to explain the situation. "A terrible situation has arisen apart from the breach of 682. The Church of the Shattered, have once again sprung into action."

"What for? What is it they seek?" Clef questioned.

"We believe it is yet another one of their attempts at reassembling Mekhane, the Thaumaturgical God." The 2nd Grand Watcher answered.

"Recently, they've caused the breach for 682; and with the confusion amassed they retrieved 217, Mekhane's blood. Our dismayed mages could not deal with the incoming attack." The 7th Grand Watcher explained.

"Are you kidding me? They managed to take back one of his parts?" Bright quipped.

"This is no joke. Our ignorance towards the Church of the Shattered has led to this problem." The 7th Grand Watcher said.

"Why now of all times? Could they not have done this earlier?" Xyank asked.

"They've waited until they had sufficient manpower. We believe their size rivals that of the Chaos Apostasy." The 6th Grand Watcher answered.

Silence shrouded the room. The Council of Thirteen reflected over their ignorance, as the three titled individuals fretted over the imminent danger of the reassembly of Mekhane.

Clef spoke up once more, "So, what are we to do? Our orders?"

"Gather more information on the Church of the Shattered and stop any possible advancements of their mages." The 4th Grand Watcher continued, "If they manage to reassemble Mekhane, the Magician's Foundation- No, humanity as a whole may be in grave danger."

Silence endowed the room once more. The thought of humanity falling prey to the Thaumaturgical God was a grim one.

Bright posed a question to the Council of Thirteen. "Do you suspect that they'll breach the containment spells of the other beings?"

"It is highly likely." The 5th Grand Watcher answered.

"This is absurd." Bright groaned.

"Indeed it is, therefore the three of you are to keep an eye on the Church of the Shattered. Additionally, investigations into the rogue society are to be held and containment spells are to be enhanced with more magic power in order to stop the absurdity. That is all, you are dismissed." The 1st Grand Watcher summarized.

Bright, Clef, and Xyank were all escorted out of the Council of Thirteen's residence. Clef had parted ways from them to gather more mages and increase the strength of the containment spells housing the other parts of Mekhane's body, while Xyank had gone to study more magic before investigating the Church of the Shattered.

Exiting from the dimly lit corridor outside of the Council room, Bright observed his environment. Looking through the window from within the lively Magician's guild, he noticed that the sky had grown dark. Bright groaned. He was starting to grow tired of the work the Council of Thirteen gave him.

Bright opened the door to his home. His house was fairly sleek, with little to no mess within the main living quarters and the kitchen. He dragged himself into his bedroom for a well-deserved rest. The room was the picture of a scholar. Many books and grimoires were scattered across the room, and his bed was left messy since he departed for work.

Ever since the initial Fantasia Collision—which was now considered a legend—shook the world by surprise 132 years ago, life had been in a quite peculiar state of being. Those who could not adapt to this new way of life were left behind, replaced with a more reactive, and superstitious kind of people.

Bright, for one, was not one of them. He could not fully adapt to the change, nor could he accept the fact that the world he once lived in had changed so drastically. He couldn't believe the many changes that were endowed upon humanity. From drastic changes in geography and topography to massive changes in the laws of physics. Bright just could not get used to the change.

Maybe it was because humanity forgot- completely shunned the idea of a "modern world" in their head. Maybe because the initial Fantasia Collision restructured various events and timelines that they had known. Maybe, just maybe, it was Bright himself. Perhaps because he "died once more", he was able to recall the modern-day world. His past self, stuck within the Undying Amulet as a "backup" for his deaths.

And despite humanity, his colleagues, and even what was once considered to be the O5-Council, adapting to the new way of the world. Bright just could not fully embrace the change that reality had undergone. Perhaps it was because he had already dabbled in what was considered "anomalous" in the past. Or perhaps it was what he initially thought;

The Amulet was the reason he was unable to embrace the change.

But these thoughts were for another day, as Bright collapsed into his bed and drifted off into a deep, dreamless sleep.

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