Jean soared quietly above Treon. From below, any observer would see nothing more than the Archmage of the Revolution watching over the skies. Yet she was furiously working.

Her true attention was inward as she meticulously arranged a complex weave of spells, preparing for just about any possibility. Anything and everything was good, as she didn't know what would work. From ancient curses to new experimental charms she had yet to complete, Jean wouldn't leave a single stone unturned.

Usually, she wouldn't go through this much effort since she was more than capable of casting on the fly, but knowing that she was about to face a Champion-tier mage was enough for her to pull all the stops.

Truth was, Jean knew distressingly little about the man hiding within the old Adventurer's Guild. Amelia's description had given her a single possible weakness, and she was trying her best to come up with something to exploit it.

The mage had required Hassel's blood wards to be lowered before he could escape. Jean didn't know everything about such magic—it was a realm she'd purposefully avoided, disgusted by its cruel and oppressive requirements—but she understood its principles. Blood wards were formidable, fueled by life itself, sealing away certain forms of magic by binding them in sacrifice. If her enemy couldn't escape them despite being able to flee even with Leonard nearby, that meant it was a real weakness.

Jean had no intention of resorting to blood magic herself. The very notion turned her stomach, and sacrificing the innocent was anathema to the Revolution's principles. Yet, the foundational theory could be mimicked, at least temporarily. She smiled grimly at the irony; she would defeat darkness with a spell crafted to imitate the very thing she abhorred.

Her preparations eventually came to fruition. Jean abruptly halted her flight two hundred feet above the dilapidated guild hall, no longer needing to feign disinterest. Once she was ready, she simultaneously released all of her hidden seals.

Thousands of shimmering, glowing symbols appeared instantly in the air, swirling into existence around the building and forming a dense network of interconnected magic circles. The spell ignited in spectacular fashion, with lines of radiant energy erupting skyward from each circle and converging above to create an impenetrable dome of shimmering white mana.

While the barrier couldn't really be compared to a blood ward, it worked on the same exclusionary principle. Where the foul magics used sacrifice as the ultimate power source and principle, Jean made it so anything attempting to pass would need to sacrifice something. It was a clever inversion of the magical principle, though not out that would hold up against a sustained attack. I only need to stop him for a few seconds. Once I engage, it will end quickly.

An explosion of thick, oily darkness immediately surged from within the guild. Jean felt a shiver of revulsion ripple through her at its feel. The sudden entrapment caught the enemy off-guard, and he panicked, racing upwards, only to slam into the radiant dome. It flexed but held firm, bouncing the dark entity back into the guild as its requirements hadn't been met.

Jean descended, stopping above the bubbling darkness. Her crystal-clear voice, devoid of any hint of fear, echoed in the still air. "You are under arrest for conspiracy and plotting against the Revolution," she stated evenly, eyes narrowed as she watched the darkness writhe.

The roiling cloud reluctantly solidified into a man. He stood with exaggerated arrogance, pushing back his long, oily hair and disdainfully turning his sallow nose upward. A sneer curled his thin lips.

"You think yourself strong enough to face me, little Archmage?" he taunted, dripping with contempt. "You may have caught me by surprise, but your pathetic barrier will not hold me long. Once I break it, I won't merely end your life—I'll make you watch as everything you've worked for falls apart."

Jean met his venomous words with icy composure. "Your threats are as hollow as your magic is vile," she responded calmly. "Surrender, and I might consider sparing your life."

He sneered as oily strands of darkness slithered across his sallow features. "Such arrogance from a mere child."

"And yet," Jean replied, floating downward until she hovered a mere twenty feet from him, power crackling visibly around her form, "you hid. You did your best to avoid my notice."

His nose flared with prideful disdain, and his eyes glinted malevolently. He lifted a hand, and darkness pooled grotesquely in his palm. "You think yourself powerful enough to judge me? Then taste the true nature of despair!"

He thrust his hand forward, and a torrent of darkness erupted, twisting into a dozen complex curses. They slithered through the air, constantly evolving into intricate patterns of corrupting magic meant to pierce her defenses. Despite herself, Jean had to admit it was an impressive display of skill. He just needs better lines. This is like fighting a B-list villain from one of Margaret's novels.

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Still, she reacted quickly, weaving counterspells into the fabric of the air around her. The moment their magic met, she felt her eyes widen at what she was feeling. This was not ordinary darkness magic; it felt remarkably like the Void, yet somehow stable.

If I wasn't using Pure Casting, he'd have simply blown through anything I could do.

The mage attacked repeatedly, each time with more complex and corrosive spells. His offensive continued to build up, leaving trails of oily residue that Jean had to dismantle methodically, lest he turn the environment into a deadly trap. As their dance unfolded and it became clear that neither would triumph in the first round, Jean attempted to make him talk.

"You've bound the Void," she murmured, part disgusted, part intrigued by his audacity. "You draw power directly from its corruption without being consumed?"

He grinned viciously, not a hint of madness dancing behind his eyes. "Surprised, little girl? I've tamed the abyss. Your petty rebellion is hopeless against the infinite power I now command!"

Jean's gaze hardened. She had faced the Void before, but she had never seen anything like this. Through sheer arrogance, this mage had discovered a way to harness its corrupting power without losing himself entirely. But such filth was not something the new world they were building could afford to tolerate.

A shift occurred in Jean's mind. Her initial intent to capture and question this man evaporated, replaced by a grim determination. This wasn't a criminal; it was a cancerous entity that needed to be excised from existence.

"You've deluded yourself," She said coldly, mana coalescing in complex, vibrant arrays around her. "You are being used by the Void and have mistaken it for control. Allow me to demonstrate the difference between your false power and true mastery."

With that declaration, Jean gathered her vast mana reserves, preparing to unleash the spells she had been working on and obliterate him utterly. The air trembled in anticipation of the profound magic she was about to unleash.

Still, before she went ahead, she decided to ask one last question. "Who are you, and who do you work for?" Jean demanded coolly.

Surprisingly, he actually answered. "My name is Polier. Remember it well, as it's the last name you'll ever hear."

He'd avoided the second portion of her question, but she'd expected it. Fortunately, she could get an answer just as easily by seeing how he'd react.

Tilting her head slightly, she pinned him with the most unimpressed look she could muster. "You serve Duke Nevielle, don't you? The Prime Minister would be displeased if he knew you'd been found out so easily."

Polier's sneer faltered briefly, replaced by surprise, swiftly masked by fury. "You know less than you believe. My role is not that of a mere servant. I am the one pulling the strings."

Jean only hummed, using the time to complete her preparations. He was a bad liar, which shouldn't have shocked her. Those who could use magic to hide their presence often had atrophied social skills. She should know, given that it happened to her, too.

"You're confident for someone trapped within my ward," She observed, just to keep him talking.

"And you are arrogant to think mere sealing circles can bind me." Polier grunted, thrusting his hand forward. Oily darkness surged forth, forming grotesque shapes that clawed at Jean's barrier.

The first few attacks merely fizzled before they could reach her, proving that her insights into his casting style were correct and that her test wards were on the right path. However, as he persisted, cracks began forming in the complex array of symbols. Jean immediately reinforced her defenses, remaining carefully neutral even as the added information churned in her mind.

"Your magic isn't actually Void, despite you drawing power from it. You're filtering it somehow." She commented, analyzing the putrid essence of Polier's magic.

He laughed arrogantly, evidently still sure of himself. "You're close. I have seen the Abyss look back, but unlike the fools who succumb to madness, I've mastered it. I drink deep of the Void's strength without losing myself."

"Power without purpose is merely waiting for corruption," Jean retorted and finally let go.

Her first real attack reached him as he shattered through one of her outer wards. Shimmering golden spears, intricately woven from Light and Arcane magic, darted toward him. Polier countered with shadowy tendrils, corrupting the spears mid-flight, the golden constructs dissolving into a dark sludge that dripped downward.

"You see?" Polier mocked, sweeping forward with a wave of cloying darkness. "Your magic is elegant but weak. Even the Light will not save you. You cannot compete against the raw potential of the Void."

Jean gracefully evaded, weaving through his attacks and analyzing their every detail. Each of his curses, each wave of tainted magic, had a distinct, oily texture, and she was sure that was the key to unraveling the mystery.

"You can feel it, can't you?" Polier taunted, catching the flicker of realization in her eyes. "The infinite depth of power I command. Surrender to me, and I'll spare you the humiliation of a defeat worse than death."

Jean narrowed her eyes, allowing his arrogance to fuel her determination. "You've grasped power but sacrificed your humanity," she countered sharply, weaving defensive and offensive circles simultaneously. "You're little better than a voidling wrapped in flesh."

Polier laughed harshly. "Humanity? What a small-minded ideal. The only thing that matters is power. I have reached beyond what anyone else could ever imagine! I am the only one to ever bend the Void to my will!"

Jean countered again, sending chains of golden light, which wrapped around his form, momentarily containing his darkness. But soon, the oily taint seeped out, corroding the chains into nothing.

"You rely too much on purity," Polier mocked. "Perfection is weakness. Corruption grants resilience."

Jean's lips twisted slightly, affecting displeasure while masking her realization. She had the last tassel of the puzzle now, and he'd given it to her himself. This is why villainous monologues are such a bad idea.

Blood wards embodied sacrifice, requiring life to empower their seals. Polier would never embrace or replicate this principle, too consumed by his own power. She allowed most of the spells she'd kept ready to dissipate, as she'd need the mana for this.

Reaching into her spatial realm, Jean withdrew a small, glowing seed—a creation she had labored upon for hundreds of hours over the years, originally intended as a cornerstone of renewal and hope. It was to be a cure for the Void's corruption of unwilling victims, but she'd never managed to get it to work just right, given the absence of the element after the Incursion was defeated. It was only fitting that it would be useful now.

Polier noticed, sneering. "A seed? Desperation suits you poorly, girl."

"Sacrifice," Jean whispered, ignoring his taunts. "That's the essence you'll never grasp."

She closed her eyes, whispering softly to the seed—a gentle apology, a farewell—and then crushed it between her fingers. The seed's destruction unleashed a surge of potent, pure energy, triggering the formation of an entirely new, radiant spell around Polier.

"Impossible!" He roared, suddenly trapped by countless shimmering symbols that revolved around him, feeding off Jean's sacrifice. He thrashed in vain, his tainted darkness powerless to erode the purity born from genuine sacrifice.

"You understand nothing of true belief," Jean said, stepping closer, her voice unyielding. "This is the principle beyond your corrupted power. This is the difference between strength and madness."

Polier's expression contorted into desperation. "You cannot do this! Duke Nevielle will—"

Jean cut him off, voice cold and unforgiving. "Nevielle will answer for his crimes soon enough. Your journey ends here."

She closed her fist, the cage collapsing into a single, infinitesimal point of light, erasing Polier completely. Silence fell, and the oppressive darkness vanished, leaving only Jean hovering in the radiant afterglow.

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