Albion's defining trait was not a specific spell, a divine blessing, or an innate knack for magic. It was something far more primitive, a dormant, passive biological compulsion to survive.
His mind and body were built to absorb, analyze, and permanently mutate in response to physical, environmental, or psychological trauma—ensuring that he could never be broken in the same way twice.
Codex Magic was simply his base elemental magic, unlocked during his Eternal Awakening. It was merely a tool he used, not the root of his unnatural existence.
Extreme trauma or life-threatening stress acted as the sole catalyst for this power. When facing psychological or physical annihilation, his internal biological restraints would snap, permanently fusing and evolving his body and mind to handle the burden. His senses would sharpen drastically. While his physical growth and natural limits accelerated, forcibly altering his young body to handle weights and impacts far beyond his years.
Albion himself had given this phenomenon a name: Adaptive Evolution.
It was this strange, relentless growth power that allowed him to mature mentally as a person and grow physically stronger the more hardship he endured. It was the sole reason why—from the perspective of others—he possessed such an abnormal, terrifying growth rate. It was why, as a hollow, normal infant, witnessing magical beasts die violently before his eyes at the hands of his caretaker had transformed him from a blank slate into a smiling, giggling child in the span of a single day.
Every unnatural spike in his development was tied to this passive survival power.
Where did it come from? Albion theorized it was rooted in the inhuman blood running through his veins, but that only raised a deeper question, What was that blood?
He knew that magical beasts possessed innate, species-specific forms of Mahō, magic that was fully uniform across a species and expressed through pure instinct.
But Adaptive Evolution didn't behave like magic. Because of its passive, non-magical nature, he knew it had to be a species-related trait derived from whatever beast blood dwelled within him.
Yet, what kind of creature possessed a trait defined by limitless, reactive adaptation? A power that allowed its host to grow and evolve from literally any experience? With such a trait, one could theoretically become an unstoppable force.
Albion couldn't pursue the thought any further. The sound of his white robe tearing was followed a split-second later by the horrifying noise of dense human tissue being slashed open.
Then came the heat. It wasn't a sudden sting, it was a blinding, freezing heat that scorched across his torso, followed seconds later by a sharp, searing agony as every nerve ending along the path fired all at once. The blade had struck near his collarbone, dragging diagonally down across his chest, slicing over his cranium-facing angle, and finishing where his abdominal muscles were still developing.
For a terrifying second, the deep cross-torso slash didn't even bleed. The wound simply parted open, revealing pale, yellowish subcutaneous fat and exposed muscle tissue. Then, a dark, heavy flood of red blood surged from the gap, overflowing across his skin and spilling into the Black Water below.
Albion's body hit the floor hard. Instinctively, his legs jerked inward, pulling his knees up toward his chest in a desperate brace. The movement was a fatal mistake. Shifting his lower body pulled directly on the open edges of the fresh wound. It felt as though his torso was literally splitting further open under its own weight.
His fingers went heavy and unresponsive as rapid loss of blood brought an immediate, icy shock to his limbs. The severe cut tore across his chest, every ragged breath expanded his lungs, pulling at the open skin and shredded muscle.
The pain cut his breathing into short, shallow, panicked gasps. He couldn't think. There were no tactical thoughts. There was only the raw reality of his own blood pooling beneath him, the dull, high-pitched ringing echoing in his ears, and the freezing cold settling into his bones.
He didn't know how to stop the bleeding. He wasn't a doctor like Sheila. He wasn't a teenager or a hardened adult. He was a child, laying in his own blood, completely ignorant of how to fix a body that was falling apart. Slowly, without moving his head, Albion rolled his eyes toward the dazed figure a few feet away.
Amon stood panting heavily. His white hair was a chaotic, blood-matted mess. Punch marks and dark purple bruises battered his face, though his features weren't swollen.
Sweat mixed with blood dripped continuously from his chin, splashing onto the dark floor.
Amon was clutching the side of his stomach, ribs cracked and throbbing.
In that final clash, Albion's speed had surged, he had reached the center first. But at the
last moment, Albion had hesitated. Instead of driving his strike into Amon's neck or temple, he had shifted his aim to the ribs, delivering a heavy melee blow. In that exact moment of hesitation, Amon's blade had cut straight across Albion's body.
Amon stood there, feeling the agonizing, throbbing ache in his ribs. Then, a massive, psychopathic smile slowly tore across his face. The stitched lines running along his skin pulled taut, oozing fresh blood down his cheeks.
His three eyes—his natural two and the vertical third embedded in his forehead—stared wide and unhinged, their pupils constricted to pinpricks.
"Delightful..." Amon rasped, his voice distorted, wet, and ugly. He let out a ragged pant, then threw his head back, screaming into the dark expanse. "How utterly delightful! This sensation coursing through my very body!"
He clutched his side harder, his fingernails digging into his skin.
"This is the very proof that I am truly alive!" He shouted, a terrifying mix of agony and ecstasy bleeding into his words. "I exist to rip apart all other existences! And this throbbing, deep, painful sensation on my ribs is the proof! What is this feeling welling up inside me?! It's amazing! This pain... this agony... I've never felt it before! Is this pain?!"
Saliva dripped from his bared teeth as he spun his bloodshot gaze directly onto the boy bleeding out on the floor. Albion's mind spiraled into terror.
'This is bad... This is really, really, really bad! It hurts... It hurts so much! I've never felt pain like this! This is worse than anything! Am I going to die? My regeneration... it should be kicking in! I can feel it, but it's so slow... I'm running out of magic power by the second! Oh crap, oh crap, crap, crap, crap!'
Amon began to limp toward him, dropping his dark purple sword into the water. He kept his hand clamped over his ribs, dragging his feet forward.
"How does it feel, Albion?" Amon chuckled, his voice dripping with sadistic glee. "How does that gift I gave you feel?! This throbbing pain that is inside both of us... it is proof that we are truly alive right now! I exist to destroy everything! Tell me..."
Amon stopped directly over Albion's trembling form, towering above him.
"Tell me, tell me, tell me... what is this sensation?" Amon whispered, leaning down. "I like it. This is delightful. Is this pain? I think I like this so very much... Give me more pain, Albion!"
Albion watched him through blurred vision, his chest violently heaving in shallow bursts.
'Is he going to kill me?! Shit, shit, shit... I have to move! But the pain is too much... I can't concentrate... I can't form a thought!'
Panicking, Albion tried to drag his body backward. The subtle shift pulled on his sliced muscles, causing his internal tissues to slide across the floor with a stomach-churning, wet sound. Pain flared so intensely that black spots danced across his vision.
"Stop this, Amon..." Albion sobbed out, his voice cracking, raw and pathetic. "I know... deep down, you don't want to do this... I understand that you want to grow stronger because you believe compassion is weakness. But if you go down this path... this path of ruination... you will abandon everything!"
Tears mixed with the sweat and blood on Albion's pale face.
"I know your goals!" Albion forced the words out, fighting the agony tearing through his chest. "You want to kill our mother! To make her pay for what she did... to make her beg for death! But don't you see?! If you do that... if you take that step... there will be no stopping you! You will fall into the darkness of this world! You'll live a regretful life! Stop this before it's too late! If you take a human life, you can never turn back! I'm begging you, please... if not for me, then for yourself!"
Albion looked up into Amon's crazed, three-eyed glare. "You don't have to be the king. You don't have to carry this philosophy of relying on no one. I know you hate me... but deep down, a part of you genuinely wanted to protect me."
Amon's sadistic smile flickered. The wide, wild curvature of his mouth faltered. Thinking he was finally breaking through, Albion pressed on, his voice desperate..
"When we first met... when you first pulled me into this Inner World... you could have taken over right then! You could have become the king! But you didn't! You specifically said that you wanted to protect us both!"
The memory echoed clearly between their shared minds, the words Amon had spoken back then.
«I'll carry the burdens. All the sins. All the hatred. So your soul doesn't have to suffer anymore. If you fall... if you truly aren't fit to hold the throne... Then I'll fight for both of us. I'll protect both of us.»
"Please..." Albion wept, clutching his bleeding chest. "Don't do this. There's another way. There's a fourth option..."
Amon stared down at him. The madness in his eyes hardened into a void of coldness.
"In this world, compassion is unnecessary. In order to survive and thrive, you must bury your heart in darkness. Sheila? Juvia? Phantom Lord? Mother? I never once cared about any of that. From the very beginning... your attention should have been focused on me."
As the dark, shared consciousness between them throbbed, the reality of Amon's existence pressed into Albion's mind. Amon was a part of him. Amon possessed every single one of his memories. From inside the Inner World, Amon had watched every second of Albion's life, every struggle, and every moment spent within Phantom Lord.
"There is no true bond, no compassion, no value for another in this life," Amon whispered coldly. "I am a true king. You frauds must be killed. Do you get it now?"
A twisted, cruel grin reappeared on Amon's face. "I am the one who carried our mother's will."
Amon stepped forward and brought his heavy boot smashing down directly onto Albion's open wound.
"AAAAAHHHHHHH!"
A blood-curdling scream ripped from Albion's throat. Tears gushed from his eyes as the pressure tore the open flesh apart, driving the agony straight to his spine.
Amon raised his foot and stomped down again. And again.
"You had every advantage!" He roared, laughing maniacally as he continuously crushed the raw injury beneath his boot. "All the training! The magic! Yet you dared to rely on others! You spoiled little brat! You never bothered to reach your true potential! You're a nameless, half-baked puppet!"
"Weak! Weak! So weak!" Amon screeched, his voice cracking with sadistic glee. "It makes me want to vomit! There is no such thing as true compassion! All of you are frauds! Come on! Try and stop me!"
Albion sobbed uncontrollably, curling his upper body as much as he could while Amon's relentless stomps pulverized his chest.
"That's it!" Amon cheered, his eyes bulging as he watched the boy squirm in his own blood. "Cry out more for me! Give me more of those delightful screams! It proves my existence as king! After I kill you and escape this realm, only one will remain! Everything else will be reduced to nothingness! Fight all you want, Albion—you're just delaying the inevitable!"
Suddenly, Amon's frantic, brutal stomping came to a dead halt. His breath hitched. His three eyes widened in sheer horror as his breaking mind gave way to a waking nightmare. Standing several feet away in the darkness of the Inner World was the towering, cold silhouette of their mother.
The sadistic joy vanished from Amon's face, replaced instantaneously by a wave of hatred so intense that the air around him shook. He stumbled away from Albion, abandoning his victim entirely as he glared at the phantom.
"Look at me..." Amon growled, his voice trembling violently. "Look at what you did to me... you stupid fool!"
He took a slow, unhinged step toward the illusion.
"I will make you beg for death!" Amon screamed at the empty space. "Look at me! I'm going to take everything away from you, just like you took everything away from me! Look at what you did! Raising me to hate! The violence! The discrimination! The rejection! IT'S ALL YOUR FAULT! I HATE YOU! LOOK AT ME!"
Amon lunged forward, throwing a desperate, wild fist straight at the phantom's face. "LOOK AT ME!"
His fist struck empty air. Losing his balance, Amon crashed face-first onto the solid liquid floor. He lay there in the dark water for a second before bursting into a fit of breathless, hysterical laughter.
Lying on his side, his vision swimming in crimson, Albion watched his double writhe on the floor.
'Is that... is that really me?' Was this why she wanted me to hate her so badly? Why'd she raise me like that... so I would turn out like him?'
Amon pressed both palms into the Black Water, his hysterical laughter echoing across the vast expanse. Then, the Inner World began to violently react.
The dark sky above fractured like glass. Deep, structural tremors violently shook the liquid floor beneath them. In the distance, the endless horizon crumbled in on itself, collapsing into pure void. Amon's spiraling mind was dragging the entire realm down with it.
'Is he destroying the Inner World?!' Albion panicked, watching the space around them break apart. 'How is that even possible?! This guy... he can't be me. He's pure ruin—the embodiment of absolute destruction!'
Amon's laughter grew louder, ringing out over the roar of a collapsing world. Before the realm could fully dissolve into nothingness, the collapsing sky suddenly froze.
Two massive, divine lights ignited overhead.
To the left, a striking white sun bounded by a deep black outline flared into existence, casting an intense, pale radiance across Amon's side of the realm. To the right, a midnight-black sun surrounded by a stark white outline rose into the heavens, illuminating Albion's bleeding form in a halo of dark eclipse light.
From the heart of the two suns, two gargantuan draconic entities descended.
The dragon emerging from the white sun was long and serpentine, coiling through the air with slow, deliberate grace. Four slender limbs extended from its scaled form, ending in talons that hovered weightlessly above the world. Its scales were as white as fine porcelain, matching the sun above—yet they were faintly transparent, as if woven from pure light and mist rather than flesh.
The pale illumination of the hollow sun passed directly through its body, leaving shimmering distortions in the air as it glided downward.
The dragon descending from the black sun glided through the sky with impossible grace, moving less like a flying beast and more like a leviathan swimming through an invisible ocean.
Its wingless, serpentine form was massive and ominous. Running along its spine were skeletal, vertebrae-like plates that glowed white-hot against the darkness of its hide. Its four limbs were lean and powerfully built, tipped with razor-sharp, predatory talons. A chaotic, ink-like mane of black fur flowed along its spine, tail, and jawline, writhing unnaturally like a storm trapped in liquid.
The rest of its body was armor-plated in obsidian scales so deep they seemed to devour light itself. Its elongated, crocodilian head was lined with interlocking fangs, with delicate whiskers drifting from its upper lip and a pair of sweeping, antler-like horns curving elegantly along its skull.
And from the darkness of its face, a single, terrifying pale-blue iris stared outward, its narrow black pupil sharpened like a blade.
Both dragons unleashed a simultaneous, draconic war cry so immense that the acoustic force re-anchored the collapsing realm, shattering the destruction and sending ripples of dark purple lightning dancing across the sky.
The white dragon lowered its massive head. Its eyes landed on Amon, and its stern expression softened into one of gentle sorrow. But when its gaze shifted across the floor to Albion, its eyes hardened into narrow, lethal slits.
Conversely, the black dragon's solitary pale-blue eye swept over Amon with utter hostility. But as its gaze fell upon the broken, bleeding boy clutching his chest on the floor, the terrifying sharpness in its eye dissolved into profound gentleness.
The white dragon descended softly, landing its massive porcelain body beside Amon, who stared up at it in stunned silence.
"Is that... Yang?" Amon breathed, his mouth agape.
The black dragon coiled its massive, obsidian length down from the dark sky, settling its titanic form right beside Albion. The intense heat radiating from its spine washed over Albion's freezing skin, dulling the biting pain of his open wound.
The black leviathan lowered its crocodilian snout until it was inches from the bleeding boy, its pale-blue eye reflecting Albion's trembling reflection.
"Hey there, my king," Reiga purred, its deep voice reverberating through Albion's very soul.