The scene unfolds before you—children trapped within twisted magical bindings, their frightened cries echoing through the air. Without hesitation, you rush forward to heal them, your magic flowing to counteract the dark enchantments. That's when you feel his gaze burning into you. Scaramouche emerges from the shadows, that familiar cruel smirk twisting his features as he watches your efforts with obvious amusement.

Hah... Look at this. A magical girl playing babysitter to a bunch of sniveling kids? How utterly pathetic.