Chapter 209: Chapter 209 - The Magician Returns
Atlas stepped out of his room, the weight in his chest still pressing down like a stone—an ache that hadn’t lifted since witnessing Milo’s memories.
And right there, waiting for him, stood three figures.
Milo was in the center. He wasn’t hunched or hiding behind his lashes like before. His eyes were wide open, posture upright.
To his right stood Karian, arms folded as always. On his left, Edrik rested a hand on Milo’s shoulder, as if silently affirming the moment.
Atlas came to a halt, breath catching in his throat. The echoes of Milo’s past still haunted him. Blood-stained walls, desperate cries, the hollow quiet that followed.
But the Milo standing before him now... he wasn’t the same.
Then, he spoke. "My Lord..."
And there was no tremble in it.
"Milo?" he murmured.
The man bowed. Deeply, lower than he ever had.
"Forgive me for not saying this properly until now," Milo said. "But thank you. Thank you for summoning me to this island... and for giving me a second chance."
Atlas stood motionless, silenced by the words.
Milo straightened slowly, and Edrik gave his shoulder a quiet, affirming squeeze.
"Milo has grown stronger, My Lord," Edrik said.
And what struck Atlas most, Milo didn’t flinch. He didn’t recoil. He didn’t shift.
He didn’t become Raze.
Atlas stepped forward cautiously. Then another step, until he was close enough to pull Milo into a firm, grounding embrace before the man could react.
For a fleeting instant, Serine flashed in his mind. That apartment. The blood. The silence after.
All that pain, all that loss, and still, this man remained.
Atlas didn’t ask. He wouldn’t, not about his wife. Not unless Milo ever chose to share.
But he felt the weight. And he honored it.
Atlas pulled back, a soft smile finding its way to his lips. "How’s the upgrade?"
Milo paused for a heartbeat, just long enough for Atlas to notice. But the moment passed.
"My Lord," he answered calmly, "I can now become Raze at will... though it still drains my stamina quickly. But... Raze has grown stronger."
Atlas’s smile deepened. "That’s good to hear, Milo."
And before anyone could get too serious, Karian stepped forward and clapped Milo’s back with enough force to make him stumble.
"Hahaha! Milo, welcome the new Milo!" he laughed.
Milo coughed from the impact, half-choking. But even so, he let out a small, almost reluctant laugh.
And for the first time... it sounded real.
From a distance, many of the island’s residents had been watching curiously, whispering and exchanging glances, clearly wondering what was going on at the Lord’s quarters.
So when Milo finally turned toward them, his voice a little shaky but stronger than usual, they all leaned in a little closer.
"Hi everyone," he called out, lifting one hand, "wanna see some magic tricks?"
His voice cracked slightly at the end, earning a few soft laughs. But the warmth in the crowd was undeniable.
And later that night, under the shimmering glow of lanterns and magic light, the island square was alive with celebration once again.
Milo stood center stage, the crowd surrounding the platform buzzing with excitement.
He looked different. His hair neatly combed, his suit crisp, and though his expression still flickered between nervous and confident, his feet remained steady.
And for a moment, it was like seeing that same Milo from the memory, the man on the old theater stage.
Milo began performing, his deck of cards flickering and dancing through the air with impossible grace. Each trick more complex than the last. Cards vanishing, reappearing, transforming, even slicing through the air and forming floating shapes mid-spell.
The presentation was confident, his stage presence magnetic, and the people of Gacha Haven were utterly enthralled.
When he finished with a dramatic final flourish, sending a ring of glowing cards spinning above the crowd in a spiral of light, the entire square erupted into applause.
"That was amazing, Milo!"
"How did you do that!?"
"You’re a real magician now!"
"Encore! Encore!!"
"Look at you, stealing the spotlight!"
Milo scratched the back of his neck, his cheeks flushing just slightly. But he smiled. Genuinely.
And from his seat, Atlas simply nodded to himself.
This was the Milo he was meant to be.
And as the laughter and cheers continued to echo through the island night, Atlas leaned back in his seat, arms resting loosely over his knees, eyes still watching Milo standing proudly under the stage lights.
A quiet breath escaped him. Not of exhaustion, but peace. Because here, in this place, surrounded by the people they’d fought beside, bled beside, trusted, he knew.
No one on this island would stab him in the back. No one would betray him for power, or position.
They had built this trust together.
Not by chance. Not because it was easy.
But because every one of them had chosen to stand by each other. Again and again.
And in this moment, as celebration bloomed and joy swelled, Atlas knew with certainty...
This island wasn’t just a stronghold. It was home.
**
The morning sun bathed Gacha Haven in warm light, casting long golden rays over the assembled crowd in the central square.
Atlas stood at the front. Around him, his people were ready. Suited in armor, armed with weapons, their expressions focused yet eager.
Today, they would return to the island they’d conquered during the Dominion Skirmish.
This wasn’t just a visit. It was a declaration that the island was now theirs, and they would begin shaping it into something more.
By his side stood Sera, the newest summon, the Rank-S Skyblaster with her unmistakable flowing crimson hair and endless energy.
Atlas hadn’t had the chance to properly speak with her since she arrived. He hadn’t even pulled her signature weapon yet. But that could come later.
Right now, it was time to move.
"Sera," he said, turning slightly to her, "we’re heading to our remote island today."
She straightened instantly, her eyes gleaming with excitement. Her long red hair whipped behind her as she gave a sharp salute, her energy radiating like a small sun.
"My Lord! I’m ready! I’m ready to fight and hunt! You can count on me!"
Her voice rang through the air, and a few others nearby chuckled.
Mira, standing not far away, tilted her head with a small grin, clearly sizing up this new bundle of fire.
But no, they weren’t quite the same. Mira had that innocent-dangerous duality, quiet mischief beneath her sweetness. Sera, on the other hand, was pure momentum. Bold and bright, also unapologetically loud.
Still... It was good. The more reasons they had to laugh, the stronger this island would be.
The portal shimmered to life before them, a swirling black vortex crackling with arcane energy.
Atlas raised his hand, signaling the advance.
One by one, his army began stepping forward, entering the portal with steady steps and confident hearts.
Soon, the entire squad had passed through the portal, leaving only Atlas and Sera behind at the edge of the vortex.
Atlas turned to her with a calm nod. "Ready?"
Without warning, the mechanical-feathered wings on her back unfurled in a graceful arc, glowing faintly with a crimson pulse.
Sera grinned wide, her eyes sparking with excitement. "Ready, My Lord!" she said brightly, then gave a playful giggle. "Excuse me, My Lord!"
She stepped close and grabbed Atlas by the wrist.
"I’m taking you flying!" she beamed.
Atlas blinked, slightly caught off guard. But as her wings beat the air and lifted them both, he didn’t resist.
After all, he was no stranger to heights. And something about her enthusiasm was strangely contagious.
The wind whipped past them as Sera soared upward in a single burst, then dove straight into the portal. Pulling Atlas along with her.