When Fantasy Glitches

"Daddy, it's hot..." came the soft voice of a young boy, his breath shallow and labored. He lay on his stomach, trying to stay still. Above him, the wreckage of what was once a sturdy building loomed; its wooden structure burned to charcoal, leading to the collapse of the stone walls. Now only a small, suffocating pocket under the rubble remained intact—just enough space for him to hide. He couldn't have been more than ten years old, and hovering protectively over him was his father, who looked strikingly similar to the boy.

The father heard his son’s plea and looked down, his face straining into a painful, forced smile. His eyes, filled with both love and agony also reflected the dim orange glow cast by the flames just outside of their pocket of safety.

"I-I know. Just... try to hold on a little longer, o-okay?" His voice faltered as he spoke, catching on words as he struggled to maintain his composure. His eyes squeezed shut occasionally as if he were struggling against something. His breath came in shaky draws, and if one looked closely, they would see the reason: the back of his clothes had been scorched through, and the burns had reached his skin. His back was a grotesque mess of discolored blisters, patches of raw skin peeling away. Every time the blistered flesh brushed against the rough stone above them or was grazed by the searing hot air, waves of sharp, stabbing pain shot through him, causing his body to involuntarily shudder.

Yet he forced a reassuring smile.

"Okay..." the boy whispered, his voice barely audible over the crackling of the fire outside.

The two had been among the unlucky villagers caught in the western district when the wall had fallen. Without the advantage the wall provided, the guards barely held the line for twenty minutes. And after that, it was chaos. Thirty minutes later, the fire began. No one knew how exactly it started—whether it was a torch knocked over in the panic or some twisted joke played by fate—but in a siege like this, there were countless possibilities. What was clear, however, was that the western side of the village was quickly deemed a lost cause. The guards shifted their efforts from rescuing survivors to containing the fire and trying to corral the monsters that had poured in through the breach.

However, even that was quickly deemed impossible.

For the villagers trapped in the western district, there was no more help coming. Some managed to escape if they were far enough from the wall when it fell. Others weren’t so lucky, hunted down and torn apart by the invading creatures. The father knew that if he and his son had tried to flee, they would have met the same fate. So, instead, he had hidden them as best he could.

At first, it worked. The monsters, too focused on chasing the fleeing villagers, passed them by unnoticed.

But the fire had been a different kind of predator. It moved slowly at first, creeping through the streets, devouring everything in its path. They had to keep relocating to avoid it. And eventually, something went wrong. While checking if the coast was clear, debris from a collapsing, burning building had fallen directly onto the father's back. If not for his thick shirt, he might have lost his skin entirely, but even so, the burns were severe.

Now, even in this hiding spot, their situation was worsening.

The heat inside the small pocket was becoming unbearable, radiating from the rubble above like an oven. Sweat soaked the father's brow, and each breath felt more labored than the last, as if the air itself was being cooked. Without proper ventilation, the space was filling with hot, stagnant air, and the smell of smoke grew stronger by the second.

If we stay here much longer, we could suffocate... but if we go out, the monsters might still be there. Either way, we'll die.

He gritted his teeth, shifting slightly and wincing as another surge of pain flared from his injured back. His mind raced as he weighed their dwindling options. He glanced at his son, whose eyes were drooping, likely from a combination of exhaustion and the rising heat.

Ten more minutes. We can last ten more minutes. Then I'll grab him, and we'll run. We just need to find another spot, somewhere the fire hasn't reached yet... somewhere we can wait until the fire dies out and the monsters have left.

But the ten minutes never had a chance to elapse. Over the father’s increasingly labored breaths and the son's growingly shallow ones, a tremor shook the ground ever so slightly. The rubble above them quivered, sending small bits and pieces of rock cascading down onto them. At first, the father didn’t notice, but as the seconds passed, the rhythmic nature of the tremors became clear. They weren’t from the collapse of a distant building.

No.

Something was moving. Something big.

He peered out from their hiding spot, scanning the debris-strewn street across from them. A shard of shattered glass, likely from a broken window, lay glinting on the ground beside the ruins of yet another building. The glass reflected the ember-filled sky and the smoldering remains of the village beyond. Fixated on the shard, the father didn’t blink, even as sweat dripped down his brow, stinging his eyes. Then, a minute later, he both saw and felt it. The air temperature, already unbearable, spiked sharply. Even his son, who had been on the edge of drowsiness, was startled awake.

The ground was getting hotter—so much so that his son's long-sleeve shirt did little to protect him from the heat.

“D-Daddy…” The boy whimpered, his voice barely audible as tears welled up. The father quickly clamped a hand over his son’s mouth, silencing him. He no longer needed the shard of glass to confirm what was coming. A moment later, as he felt the boy's tears fall onto his hand, he watched them evaporate instantly as they hit the ground.

It was massive—a wolf towering over six meters tall, at least ten meters long, not even counting its flame-like tail. The creature loomed above the rubble-strewn landscape. Each step it took left molten imprints in the ground, flames erupting in its wake. A low, guttural snarl vibrated through the air, signaling its approach. Molten rock dripped from its jaw, sizzling and bubbling as it touched the ground, melting everything it came into contact with. Its lower body was a mix of matted fur and rugged stone, forming a natural armor, while the upper half seemed almost normal—except for the streams of fire flowing from its fur, merging into a blazing inferno on its back.

Cracks lined its neck, barely containing the hellfire beneath the surface. Its eyes—two bright orange orbs with yellow irises—burned with fervor.

The father didn’t need to look directly at the beast to feel its presence. It weighed down on them, primal and suffocating, as if invisible chains had wrapped around their bodies, holding them in place. Instinct took over—they stopped breathing, stopped moving, stopped 'living', as the creature of fire stalked past them. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, it moved on, setting everything in its path ablaze, even the very air.

The father released the breath he didn’t realize he had been holding, his clothes drenched with sweat, clinging to his skin.

Wha- What the hell was that... A mana beast!? But why the hell would a mana beast be here!?

It made no sense, but now it was clear what had caused the fires. As the oppressive weight lifted and his thoughts shifted from panic to something more rational, he noticed his son had gone limp. His heart skipped a beat, but then he saw the boy’s chest rising and falling, albeit slowly. He had passed out, his young mind retreating from the terror it had just witnessed.

I need to get us out of here... If there’s a mana beast, the village is as good as gone. Even the forest would be safer than staying here!

The rumbling from the creature’s footsteps had faded and with it the unbearable heat. Now was their chance. Wrapping his son in his arms, the father stood, wincing as pain flared through his back.

He crawled out of their hiding spot, gasping for air as the smoke-laden atmosphere hit him full force. It was worse than before, thick with the acrid stench of burning wood and stone. But there was one small upside to it. The smoke masked the stench of the scattered corpses littering the ground. Some were burned, clearly caught in the unending flames, while others appeared partially eaten—stomachs ripped open, organs spilling out, or missing entire limbs like legs or heads. The sight alone was enough to turn his stomach, yet he did his best to push it to the back of his mind as he scanned the street where the mana beast had come from.

There weren't any signs of any monsters. A wave of relief swept over him—until he turned to look the other way, where a familiar pair of orange-yellow eyes locked onto his.

Just a few meters away, the mana beast crouched low, silent. It didn’t growl, didn’t snarl. The flames on its back had dimmed, the magma from its mouth had stopped dripping, and the crushing pressure it emitted had vanished. It had gone completely still, hiding its presence, waiting for its prey to emerge from its burrow.

The father stood frozen—not just from fear, but because he knew, instinctively, that the moment he moved... he would die.

At the same time, hundreds of meters away, one of the captains searching for survivors dashed across the rooftops of the village houses, every sense sharp and alert. He had braced himself to encounter hordes of monsters as he combed through the streets, but surprisingly, all he found were corpses. The monsters in his area had already been slain, their bodies scattered across the ground. He had only run into a few stragglers, which were easily dispatched.

Those two from Takerth Academy... They’ve only been here for an hour, and they’ve already done what our entire guard force struggled to do...

Mid-thought, he stopped, catching himself on the ledge of a tall, tower-like building. His eyes widened, and his heart began thudding wildly in his chest. Far off in the distance, amidst the village that was ablaze, he saw it.

What... what the hell is that thing doing here!? Why is there an Adept-level mana beast in the village?! It shouldn't even be in the forest, let alone here!

Mana beasts were mutated creatures, transformed by exposure to extreme concentrations of mana. Like mages, they could wield magic, but unlike mages, their entire bodies acted as vessels for mana instead of having a mana core. Their body would absorb mana constantly, and that very nature was enough for even their physical attacks to act as efficient weapons against a knight's aura defenses.

But this beast—this one—wasn’t supposed to exist here. There was no concentration of mana near the village strong enough to spawn such a creature, especially not one imbued with fire attributes.

So where the hell did it come from? It must have caused the fire that resulted in the wall being breached, but...

Something about the entire situation felt wrong. Yet, there was no time to dwell on it. His eyes quickly locked onto the man standing in front of the mana beast—holding a child. Without a second thought, the captain’s aura flared, bubbling around him like some kind of viscous liquid as he jumped from his perch, hoping to draw the beast’s attention long enough for the man and child to escape.

But it was while he was mid-jump that everything changed.

The father hadn’t moved an inch, and neither had the mana beast. It stood there, motionless, its burning eyes fixed on him as if piercing straight into his soul. But then his son cradled tightly in his arms, began to stir, shifting back to consciousness. And that slight movement was all it took. In an instant, the beast exploded into motion. Its body, which had been unnervingly still, ignited with sudden fury, like a dormant volcano erupting without warning. The beast's jaws stretched wide, a horrifying maw ready to snap down on the both of them.

The father, with no time to think, acted on pure instinct. His muscles tightened as he threw his son to the side, away from the gaping maw. The boy, still half asleep, had no time to react, his tiny body flying from his father’s arms, confusion filling his face. He didn’t even know what was happening.

I'm not going to make it!

The captain, still mid-air, was right. Before the young boy had even completed half his fall, the mana beast’s jaws slammed shut. Its obsidian teeth pierced the father’s body, and blood sprayed violently into the air. The boy hit the ground hard and immediately burst into cries, unaware of what had just happened. The beast lifted its head, swallowing the man whole in one gruesome motion. All that remained were the man's feet, left standing where he once was, with blood spurting from the severed ankles.

"Dammit!" The captain’s roar tore through the air, filled with so much emotion that it barely sounded like a voice—just raw desperation. He landed hard on another rooftop, using it as a springboard to launch himself faster toward the beast. But he knew—deep down—he wouldn’t make it in time. The gap was too large, and the beast’s eyes were already locked on the crying child.

The boy wailed, his voice echoing into the chaos. He cried because his father had vanished for some reason; he cried because his body throbbed in pain; and he cried because the air around him felt like it was burning, suffocating him under its heat.

The captain could only watch, powerless, as he prepared for a nightmare to unfold.

That’s when he felt it—a presence rushing toward him from behind, moving too fast to react. Before he could even turn his head, it had already blown past him, faster than sound. The mana beast focused on the crying child and opened its gaping maw. The mix of bubbling magma and charred flesh filled its mouth, ready to clamp down.

But as its obsidian teeth snapped shut, they bit into nothing but air.

A snarl, deep and guttural, rumbled from the beast’s core. Its eyes darted up and down the street, searching, until it locked onto a figure kneeling a short distance away. The figure’s body burned with a brightness more intense than the flaming wolf behind them. In one hand, the girl held a gleaming silver spear, and in the other, she cradled the young boy. Though the boy continued to cry, his sobs were now muted, muffled against her chest as a strange warmth enveloped him. The unbearable heat that had threatened to consume him was gone, blocked by an overwhelming yet inexplicable sense of comfort.

The girl stood slowly, her eyes filled with a mix of some emotion, and fell on the boy for a brief second before turning to the beast. Her gaze had changed in that instant. The emotions that had laced her eyes mere moments ago had vanished, leaving only a cold, terrifying emptiness. The mana beast froze. As soon as it met her stare, its stance shifted, its low snarl morphing into a full, guttural growl. Flames roared across its body, blazing hotter, and magma poured from its mouth in furious streams.

If the beast had looked monstrous before, now it was feral—driven by the fact it had found not prey but an enemy. It could sense it, the malice radiating from the girl standing before it. At that moment, the captain, who had been rushing in, came to a sudden halt atop a nearby roof. He felt it—the weight in the air. Though it didn’t affect him as much as it had the father and son, the pressure was undeniable. It was as if gravity itself had intensified, making his body sluggish, almost unwilling to respond to his commands.

What... what overwhelming intent... Is this what happens when two Adept-levels clash?

The sheer force of it was suffocating. Intent, concentrated and honed by beings so powerful that the very mana around them began to react to their influence, adapting into an oppressive field under the force of their wills. Their intentions seeped into everything, embedding themselves into the world, forcing their weight onto anyone and anything nearby.

And the intent that now filled the space between Seraline and the mana beast was clear—a mutual promise of death.