Dark Magus Returns

Chapter 1501: The Name That Shouldn’t Exist

The sound of the crowd, the movement of the air, even the restless shuffling of bodies in the coliseum, all of it came to a standstill. The world froze as though caught between heartbeats. Dust hung unmoving in the air, fireflies of mana suspended like stars in a still night.

Only two individuals remained capable of motion.

Ibarin, Grand Magus and principal of Central Academy.

And the white-haired figure standing across from him.

"What is this?" Ibarin muttered, his voice sharp with unease. He raised a hand and waved it experimentally through the frozen air. His fingers carved through particles of dust, scattering them like water, yet nothing beyond his immediate reach responded. The air itself was locked, unyielding.

The Grand Magus narrowed his eyes. His mind was quick, honed by decades of experience. The stillness of the crowd, the frozen movement of the arena, it was obvious.

"You..." he hissed. "You have an affinity for time magic? And you can wield it to this degree already?!"

For a man like Ibarin, the words were almost impossible to say aloud. His voice quavered with outrage and disbelief. "You... you’ve hidden countless tricks until now, and yet to master time of all things, to stop the world itself! How has no one ever heard of you? Where have you been hiding all this time?"

To the Grand Magus, it felt as if reality itself were mocking him. If his rivals among the other Grand Magi had conjured such a force, he could have understood it. If another faction had slowly raised a prodigy to challenge him, he might have accepted it. But this? A student from nowhere, who seemed to possess affinity after affinity, power after power? It was as though the world itself had birthed an enemy designed to shatter his pride.

It was enough to drive him to the edge of madness.

"A correct guess," Raze said softly, a small smile tugging at his lips.

He would never admit it aloud to Ibarin, but even with all his preparation, his control over time magic was far from perfect. The special property of time made it resistant to traditional methods of cultivation. Absorbing mana stones did not strengthen it. Training in the usual way barely scratched the surface.

But Raze had absorbed the power of a man who had once held the strongest affinity for time in the history of all mages. With that, his comprehension had skyrocketed. He had studied every scrap of information, every hidden record, every buried fragment of knowledge.

And with that knowledge came his current ability: to freeze time itself in a localized space, and to decide what would remain unaffected.

At this moment, the entire coliseum stood silent, trapped in a tableau of anticipation. Only he and Ibarin could move within it.

This was not his ultimate goal, not even close. With time, with study, he dreamed of reaching further. To be able to reverse small periods of time itself, to undo grievous wounds, to gamble with fate itself. That was his aim. With such power, he could also unlock the full potential of his god-tier blazer, a weapon capable of absorbing any attack, but at the terrible cost of stripping away pieces of his memory.

If he could one day rewind time, even for a few moments, then the danger of losing himself would fade. His weapon would become a perfect shield, and his battles... unstoppable.

But that was for the future. For now, this frozen world was enough.

Ibarin’s breath came harshly as his thoughts spun. His mind tried to wrestle sense from the senseless. Finally, he placed a hand against his own face and let out a bark of laughter.

"Hah... what is all this? This is all for show, isn’t it?" His laughter deepened, echoing strangely in the still world. "You froze the crowd, locked everything in place, for what? To impress me? You think time magic can be wielded in battle like this? It can’t! Time is too rigid, too untouchable. All you’ve done is give us privacy. That’s all this is."

His words carried arrogance, but the cracks were obvious. Behind his grin, fury boiled. Behind his mocking tone, his pride screamed that he could not allow such a talent to exist.

And in truth, he wasn’t entirely wrong. Even Raze himself had wondered at the strange limitations of time magic. When he fought Heino, the time mage from Alter, he noticed a pattern. Attacks themselves never seemed to strike while time was frozen. It was as if time magic only functioned as a control, resetting, delaying, locking. A tool for the battlefield, yes, but not the weapon itself.

Could he and Ibarin fight like this, in this frozen bubble? Raze wasn’t certain. And wasting mana testing it would serve no purpose. He had not summoned this stillness to fight.

"I wanted to have a private conversation with you," Raze said. His voice carried evenly across the unmoving air. "Away from the eyes of everyone else."

The response made Ibarin’s lips twitch. And then, once again, he laughed. A harsh, grating sound that rang false even to his own ears.

"Hahaha... You’re truly something, aren’t you? A seven-star mage, a child, yet you wield so many special affinities. It’s unnatural. Now that I think about it, it makes sense. My spells, they weren’t being blocked by your magic. It was that sword."

His sharp eyes darted to the blade in Raze’s hand. "Most likely it’s been enchanted, yes? Something extraordinary, something crafted with a power we don’t have access to. And that blazer... it’s the same. All enchanted artifacts. That’s the truth, isn’t it?"

His words grew harsher, more insistent. "I knew this day would come. There is only one man in this world capable of enchanting items at such a level. To raise someone so strong in secret... it must be him."

Ibarin’s eyes widened with sudden clarity, his voice rising in manic triumph. "Idore. It was Idore, wasn’t it?! He sent you. I knew it! That bastard finally moved against me. Was he afraid of me? Was that it? Afraid of my rise, afraid of what I would become? HAHAHA!"

He threw his head back, laughter booming in the silent void, filling the frozen air with madness.

But his victory was short-lived.

"You’re wrong," Raze said, cutting across the laughter like a blade. His voice was sharp, carrying not just confidence but venom. "Don’t you dare give that man credit for what I’ve done. This has nothing to do with Idore. Everything I’ve achieved... everything I’ve become... is mine alone."

Raze lifted his chin, his white hair glowing in the still light, and his eyes burned with a truth that shook even the Grand Magus.

"I told you, I wanted to speak with you as myself. Not as Wilton’s student. Not as a nameless mage."

He stepped forward, his words heavy, unrelenting.

"I am Raze Cromwell."

The name dropped like a stone into still water, ripples spreading across Ibarin’s mind. His jaw slackened. His breath caught. His lips stuttered the words as though they could not possibly exist.

"C-Cromwell... as in... Raze Cromwell?" His eyes widened in horror. His voice shook. "That’s impossible. You can’t be... you can’t be the Dark Magus!"

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