The colonnade of the massive temple stood open to the sky.
Windea’s mountain wind swept through the rows of stone pillars, tossing the hair of the seven students. The wall of fire that had partitioned the space flickered and vanished, revealing the boy standing beyond it.
"Ren... is that really you?" Wayne stammered.
"Yeah."
Wayne's mind was reeling. He and his companions were covered in wounds and exhausted to their limits, a fact that had stripped him of his usual composure. He couldn't wrap his head around Ren’s strength; he could only watch, overwhelmed and paralyzed.
"...That guy is dangerous," Wayne managed to warn.
"I know. I came here knowing exactly what he is."
"In—in that case—!"
Wayne looked at Ren, desperate to say more. Even after witnessing the display of power just moments ago, he felt compelled to warn him about Orphide’s immortality.
"It’s okay. Don't worry about me," Ren replied with a faint, reassuring smile.
Then, his expression hardened instantly.
"From here on... I’ll take it from here."
As he turned his gaze from Wayne toward Orphide, every trace of warmth vanished. For Wayne, his classmate Ren had been replaced by a stranger—the Sword Saint, a side of the boy he had never truly seen before.
Ren drove his Flame Magic Sword into the stone paving and drew the Mithril Magic Sword from his waist.
"So, you intend to fight me alone? That appears to be what you are suggesting," the Priest said.
"That’s the plan."
"I see. It seems I didn't mishear you, then."
The Priest stared at the boy through narrowed eyes, his gaze sharp and calculating. "It matters little who you are."
With a sudden, violent motion, Orphide swung his leg.
A Magic Bullet—an ebon-crimson sphere of energy—erupted from the strike. It vibrated with a destructive power far greater than anything he had unleashed before, shaking the very air as it tore through space.
"Ren!" Wayne screamed.
His voice was instantly drowned out by the roar of the projectile. It was a cry of genuine concern, but it proved unnecessary. A chill ran down the Hero’s descendant’s spine. As a dense, suffocating Shroud of mana expanded around Ren, Wayne felt as though he were standing before an ancient, apex predator.
The high-speed Magic Bullet was erased in an instant, cleaved by the Mithril Magic Sword before it could even register on the eye.
Orphide adjusted his glasses, his expression shifting. "It doesn't seem like you stopped that by sheer luck."
The remnants of the magic drifted away on the wind like glittering dust. The sight of the lethal spell being swatted aside so effortlessly left the Descendants of the Seven Heroes speechless.
"...He stood back up even stronger than before?" Ren noted.
"You speak as if you already knew that, despite not being here to see it."
"I didn't mean it that way. It was just a hunch."
Ren spoke with absolute certainty, his voice devoid of fear. "Either way, it doesn't change the fact that we're fighting!"
Orphide attacked again, but the Mithril Magic Sword moved at an invisible speed, parrying and crushing every Magic Bullet with a single horizontal sweep. The resulting shockwaves of sword pressure and wind tore through the surrounding stone.
"Hmm... not even that, then?"
"No! I'll cut you down as many times as it takes!"
The Priest’s voice was tinged with genuine wonder, met by the boy’s resolute defiance. They traded blows in a blur of wind and shockwaves. A second exchange, then a third—the clash of sword and fist sent tremors through the sky.
"Phew... what a pity."
Seeing Ren’s fierce follow-up strike, the Priest crossed his arms in a guard. An ear-piercing boom echoed as he was forced back, his feet carving deep furrows into the stone paving.
"It seems the tide has turned quite drastically," Orphide muttered with a touch of annoyance, straightening his glasses.
A heavy silence followed. Wayne and his group were frozen by the display of Ren’s might, while the resurrected Orphide stood with his tension wound tight against the newcomer.
Finally, Kaito broke the silence with a shout of disbelief. "No way, Ashton!? You...!"
He had tried to move to protect Ren, but his wounded body had been too slow. However, it was clear his help wasn't needed; in fact, interfering would likely only get in the way.
"Are you alright, Senior Leonall?" Ren asked.
"Y—yeah! As you can see, hanging in there... but wait, don't worry about me! Ashton, your power right now is...!"
"I'm glad you're okay. Don't mind me for now."
"It—it's kind of hard not to mind!"
Ren gave Kaito a brief, relieved look before snapping his focus back to Orphide.
"Given your words and that uniform, I take it you’ve come to play the hero for your friends," the Priest remarked.
"That’s not the only reason."
Ren moved first this time. The stone paving, warped by the previous Dragon's Breath, crumbled and began to float. Mana surged between the jagged pieces of debris, gathering into a singular, overwhelming force.
"There was one more thing I came here to ask you."
"Something you wish to ask? I cannot imagine what it could be... I have nothing to say to the children of Elfen."
"I figured. But I’ll make you talk, even if I have to use force!"
Ren swung the Mithril Magic Sword down, unleashing the fury of Sanctuary Fall. The mana surging between the flying stones crackled like lightning. With a level of refinement far exceeding his previous battle in Eupeheim, he unleashed a wave of rare, absolute destruction.
"Tsk... Impossible! Why do you possess that power!?" Orphide hissed.
The other descendants gasped, watching in awe. Orphide didn't even have the luxury of glancing their way. Unable to fully block the Sanctuary Fall, he was blasted backward, losing sight of Ren for a fraction of a second.
He closed his eyes, sharpening his senses to their absolute limit. "Such incredible movement!"
"You noticed... but not fast enough!"
Ren appeared directly behind him. The Priest felt a sensation he hadn't experienced during his fight with Wayne and the others—a primitive, cold dread. This was something different.
He was facing an absolute superior.
Despite his Power of Regeneration, Orphide felt a surge of respect for the boy's prowess. He tried to block by reinforcing his arms with mana, but the Mithril Magic Sword sliced through the magical barrier as if it were parchment. The blade drew a clean line from Orphide's neck down to his abdomen. No blood flowed, and the wound closed instantly, but the cost was high. Orphide’s magic was being drained at a terrifying rate just to keep himself whole.
The pressure of the Sword Saint did not relent.
"Not yet!"
"Is this... the Strong Sword!?"
Ren manifested the Sword of Authority. Among those who wielded the Strong Sword, this was a legendary technique reserved only for those at the level of a Sword Saint. The color and nature of the aura varied by the user; Ren’s was an anomaly. Two colors surged from his blade: a pure silver-white reminiscent of Licia, and a jet-black that echoed Fiona’s power.
The destructive potential was staggering.
"To think you even wield the Strong Sword...!"
"I'm not holding back against a Priest!"
"An honor, truly! But I never imagined a mere student could surpass the seven!"
For Ren, this was a battle for answers. If he could force Orphide to speak about the girl from his dreams, he might find the truth behind the tragedy in the Legend of the Seven Heroes—the truth of why the White Saintess had been killed.
Ren let the dual-colored mana erupt like a lightning strike. "Haaaaaaaa!"
The roar and the sword-flash converged on Orphide. The sheer force was enough to slay the Messenger of the Giant God in a single strike. Orphide felt the weight of it, but he still believed his immortality would save him.
Wayne’s Hero power had been effective, but Ren’s should have been different. Or so he thought.
"...What?"
"Impossible...!" Orphide gasped.
The Sword of Authority was different. Ren himself let out a low sound of surprise; he didn't fully understand the nature of his own power, but it was clearly working against Orphide’s regeneration just as Wayne’s had. Deep wounds appeared on the Priest’s body—and they were bleeding. Bright, crimson blood.
"This is not the Hero’s light! So why... why can you negate my divinity!?"
"Negate it?" Ren repeated.
According to Orphide, this was something else entirely. And it was working.
Chronoa’s words came back to him: I might have to think you're already using a special power imbued with divinity.
Divinity was a force of the gods, something humans couldn't normally harbor. If Orphide’s regeneration was a divine blessing, it explained why it was so difficult to overcome. But Ren didn't have the light of the Hero.
Did my Sword of Authority just negate his divinity? Ren wondered. It seemed he was approaching an answer he had sought for a long time, but he forced the thought aside.
It doesn't matter what it is right now. If it worked, that was all that mattered. He had to stop Orphide.
"Both the Hero’s descendant and your existence were variables I failed to account for," Orphide said.
"Then you’ve got poor planning."
"Perhaps. Even after I ensured the Sword King, the Witch, and the Director were far away... I never imagined someone like you remained."
Orphide unleashed a volley of Magic Bullets as he retreated. Ren swatted them aside with the Mithril Magic Sword, the dual-colored waves erasing the Demon King’s influence on contact.
The Priest, though forced to re-evaluate his opponent, did not lose his composure. With the pride of his station, he calculated his next move. His heart hammered with an irregular, strange rhythm. As his pulse quickened, the mana filling his body grew denser and more suffocating. A single bead of sweat rolled down his cheek, but he still managed a smile.
"I think I’m beginning to understand, just a little," the Priest said. "Several questions I had until today have been answered just by fighting you. I owe you my thanks!"
"Thanks?"
Orphide nodded, a sudden clarity in his eyes. His instincts were screaming at him that he couldn't let things continue as they were.
"But because of that, the situation has changed! You must die here!"
His glasses caught the light as a serene, terrifying smile spread across his face. "Someday, you will point your sword at us again. For the sake of His Majesty’s return, I must remove you now!"
A foul, black magic filled his eyes. Every dark emotion was poured into his words. He was a creature of hideous devotion.
"I will show you my true worth—by betting everything I am!"
Orphide suddenly plunged his hand into his own chest. The hole he carved did not bleed; instead, a jet-black mist began to pour out of the wound. He threw his arms wide and looked toward the heavens.
Ren didn't hesitate. "I won't let you!"
He lunged forward to stop whatever ritual was beginning, but the black power erupted from Orphide faster than the wind, spreading across the stone paving and surging out of the colonnade. It reached the plaza and began to rot the very nature of Windea, corrupting its waters.
"Be black, darker than night," Orphide sang.
The sky above blackened. The Mark of the Demon King Cult on the Priest's chest spread across his entire body. He was burning his life force to fuel this corruption. A massive amount of mana erupted, causing all of Windea to tremble.
"Ashton-kun! The mana in the air is—!" Nemu cried, looking at her magic detection tools.
The wind and water mana were being twisted into a lethal Miasma that eroded the earth and anything living upon it.
"Do you plan to take all of Windea with you!?" Skole shouted, desperately casting White Magic to counter the rot.
Orphide seemed to savor the hatred. "It’s such a sacred place. Let’s make this a spectacle."
"Is it really worth burning your life like that?" Ren asked.
"If I don't, I’ll lose my reason for existing. That is the one thing I cannot permit."
"All to resurrect the Demon King?"
"No. It’s about why I want him back. Someone like you could never understand."
Orphide’s voice was filled with a twisted pride. "God’s love is not equal; its true essence is favoritism. I shall prove that to you now."
Ren felt the mountain shaking from deep within. At this rate, the whole place will be buried in Miasma, he realized. It would become a wasteland, just like the Baldur Mountains. He had to stop it—not just for the mountain, but for the impact it would have on all of Leomel.
He glanced back at Wayne’s group. They were still wounded, but they could move. He looked toward the back of the temple.
"Wayne, look over there."
"What is that? That wasn't there before..."
The floor had shattered to reveal a hidden staircase leading deep underground. It was the path that only appeared on the Holy Day of Water.
"I don't know what's down there, but his power is flowing into the ground. I need you all to go down and see what's happening."
"Understood! We're on it!"
Wayne didn't hesitate. He knew Ren was giving them a way to contribute, even in their state.
"But what about you, Ren!?"
"Nothing has changed. I'm finishing this!"
Ren charged. He had to keep Orphide occupied so the others could escape, and to stop the flow of corruption. He clashed with the Priest, their blades meeting with the screech of metal on metal. Orphide’s strength was now several tiers higher, fueled by his dying life force.
"Wayne! Go! Now!"
Ren held the line alone, pushing the others toward the stairs. Miasma chased after them, but Wayne cleared it with a swing of his sword. He looked back at Ren one last time before disappearing into the depths.
Orphide roared with laughter. "What beautiful friendship!"
He glanced toward the staircase. "Is there something down there? I can see my power flowing that way."
"If your power is going there, I'm not letting it go unchecked!"
"Fair enough. Once I lay you low, I'll go see for myself!"
Orphide was no longer healing. He was pouring every drop of mana into his offense, betting everything on killing Ren here and now. Ren felt a massive impact as a punch narrowly missed his ribs.
"I will dye you and Windea in a blacker, deeper night!"
"Not if I stop you first!"
Ren realized he had to end this immediately. A sudden intuition flashed through his mind—the Water Magic Sword. On this Holy Day of Water, its presence felt more resonant than ever.
I can do this!
This sword held the power of the Water Goddess. In this sacred place, it was the ultimate counter. Ren summoned the Water Magic Sword and gripped it in his free hand. Orphide’s eyes widened at the sight of the second blade.
"Haaaaaaaa!"
Ren drove the Water Magic Sword into the stone floor. A thin, crystalline film of blue water spread out from his feet, covering the entire colonnade.
"This isn't normal magic...!" Orphide gasped.
"You're right about that!"
The water purified the Miasma on contact, halting the corruption of the mountain. It was as if the very water was a servant of the blade. Ren pulled the sword from the ground and slid its tip across the surface; ripples of light followed in its wake.
"That ring... you’re using its power. This affinity for the land is absurd!" Orphide snarled. He tried to step forward, but the ripples beneath his feet did not glow; they remained cold and unresponsive.
The Priest threw a mana-infused punch. Ren parried it with the Water Magic Sword, the blade shimmering under the starlight.
"You really are a natural enemy to our kind," the Priest noted.
"That's why I'm here!"
As Ren swung the sword, a wall of pure water erupted from the floor, blocking Orphide’s path. It looked fragile, but it was incredibly resilient. It absorbed Orphide’s magic and then fell back to the floor as harmless droplets. The scene was ethereal, illuminated by the stars.
The two combatants locked eyes.
No matter how much he powers up, it doesn't matter.
I can't let him leave this mountain alive.
Ren knew there would be no time for a peaceful interrogation. He had to get answers now, in the heat of battle.
"I told you I had another question. I’m asking it now."
Orphide watched him, trying to gauge his intent. Ren’s expression remained unreadable. Finally, the Priest nodded. "Fine. I won't end this without knowing why you came to find me."
He still carried himself with a twisted, noble grace, but that vanished the moment Ren spoke.
"Do you know a girl with silver hair and black mesh?"
Orphide’s reaction was instantaneous. He knew her.
"You do know her! Where is she!?"
Orphide let out a low, mocking laugh. "Where is she? I don't know how you know of Her, but to ask where she is..." A flash of madness and absolute devotion crossed his face. "How arrogant. How filthy."
His voice grew heavy with power. "I have no intention of telling you another word about Her. Not with that mouth—oh?"
A small gemstone fell from Orphide's pocket. Ren watched it, but the Priest crushed it under his heel without a second thought.
Was that a Sacred Relic? Ren wondered. It explained how Orphide had been able to stand up again. He must have found a way to use their power as a stimulant.
"Now I have a question for you. It was you who took the Water Goddess's Ring, wasn't it?"
"Yeah."
"I thought as much. A pity we couldn't reach a more... amicable arrangement."
The Priest realized something. "Tonight was supposed to be my story, but I see I was mistaken. Leomel’s response was too fast. This water power... there’s only one conclusion."
He looked at Ren with a realization that bordered on awe. "You were the one scripting this entire story, weren't you? You're the Mastermind."
Deep underground, Wayne and the others ran down the moss-covered stone stairs. They were pushing their bodies to the limit, searching for the source of the corruption.
After several minutes, they felt a rush of air. They emerged into a massive, hollow void inside the mountain.
"What is this place...?"
"Look!" Charlotte pointed to the center of the hollow.
They were standing on a circular path carved into the walls. Several arched bridges led toward the center, where a massive sphere of emerald and blue light floated, surrounded by smaller orbs. The central orb was being choked by black mist.
"This is the heart of Windea's mana," Skole said. "We have to purify it."
They tried to cross a bridge, but a powerful wind blocked them. It was a defensive mechanism of the mountain itself. Skole tried to cast a high-level purification spell, but the wind didn't break.
As they debated what to do, Charlotte’s eyes fixed on one of the smaller orbs. Unlike the others, it was wrapped in pure wind mana. Inside, a silhouette was visible.
"Why... why is it here?" she whispered.
She recognized the shape from family portraits. It was the Bow of the Seven Heroes—the weapon of the Rofelia ancestor.
It was the Wind King Bow Sylphina.
The orb surrounding the bow suddenly vanished, and the weapon began to drift toward the bottom of the hollow.
"Wait!"
Charlotte ran, ignoring the pain in her sprained ankle. She used her wind magic to pull the bow toward her, catching it just before it fell into the abyss.
"Sharo-senpai!" Wayne caught her as she stumbled.
Charlotte stood up with Wayne’s help, cradling the bow. "Why was this here?"
"Maybe our ancestors called out to us," Kaito said, a wide grin on his face.
Charlotte looked at the black mist suffocating the mountain’s core. The bow in her hands began to glow with a brilliant emerald light, as if communicating with her.
"It wants me to use it."
The bow was magnificent, carved from what looked like a giant gemstone. Charlotte pulled the golden string. There was no physical arrow, but a surge of wind mana formed a projectile the moment she drew back.
"This thing is powerful! Hold on to me so I don't get blown away!"
The gale generated by the bow was staggering. Emerald wind swirled around the arrow, but Charlotte’s hands were shaking from exhaustion. Her aim was unsteady.
"If you miss, I'm never letting you hear the end of it!" Lizred shouted.
Charlotte looked back to see Lizred on the verge of tears, her lips set in a determined pout. The tension left Charlotte’s shoulders, and her feet found their balance.
"Keep talking, you brat."
"I will! If it keeps you focused!"
"I'm not the one who needs to worry here," Charlotte said with a smile. She took aim once more, her hands perfectly still.
The master archer had found her mark.
"If you’ve accepted me as your master... then clear this rot!"
She released the string. A flash of emerald light tore through the air. The black mist tried to intercept it with squirming tendrils of magic, but they were vaporized on contact. The arrow pierced the center of the corruption, and the blackness vanished in an instant.
Charlotte’s legs finally gave out. Wayne caught her as she collapsed, the ancestor’s bow still gripped in her hand.
"Not bad, Sharo," Sera said, helping her up.
The corruption in the depths of Windea was gone.
Back in the temple, Ren felt the shift in the mana. He allowed himself a small smile.
He drove Orphide back with a flurry of strikes. The Priest was gasping for air, his movements slowing. He fled the colonnade, retreating into the open plaza.
"I never imagined I'd be pushed this far," Orphide admitted, though he kept his mocking smile. He still refused to speak about the girl. To him, her secret was worth more than his life.
Ren stood his ground. "I'm ending this."
"You scripted this story... you're the one who ruined everything," Orphide hissed, his hatred absolute.
"I'm just protecting what's mine."
"I hate you. I hate everything about you."
Orphide threw his arms wide, unleashing a final, massive wave of black magic. "I have no intention of bowing to a child of Elfen!"
He manifested a purple magic circle beneath his feet, the air crackling with lethal energy. "I'll see you in the next life."
"I'm not going where you're going."
Ren switched to a two-handed grip on the Mithril Magic Sword. Dual-colored mana surged around his arms. He thought of Licia and Fiona, their smiles giving him one last burst of strength.
"I'm finishing this. I'm going home."
Orphide collapsed to his knees, his life force spent. "A dark, dark blessing for you."
He unleashed a beam of pure violence from the magic circle—a mass of magic more powerful than any Dragon's Breath. It tore through the stone floor, racing toward Ren.
Ren didn't flinch. He swung the Mithril Magic Sword with everything he had. "I don't want your blessing!"
The dual-colored wave met the purple beam in a titanic struggle. Orphide’s eyes went wide with delight. "You caught it! I knew you would!"
"Tsk...!"
"Feel the pain and sorrow of the Demon Continent!"
Ren’s arm was being scorched by the curse. The pain was agonizing, tearing at his muscles and nerves, but his grip on the sword did not falter.
"I'm not... stopping... here!"
His power surged, pushing back the purple beam. Orphide watched in disbelief as his final, life-betting attack was overwhelmed.
"Impossible... how can you withstand the curse!?"
"I told you, Orphide! I'm crushing everything you have!"
The end was sudden and absolute.
"Haaaaaaaaaaaa!"
Ren’s roar echoed through the temple as his blade cut through the purple beam and shattered the magic circle. A flash of silver and black purified the air, turning the dark magic into harmless particles of light.
A beautiful, quiet scene followed. Droplets of water from Ren’s magic and particles of light from the destroyed circle drifted through the air like snow.
Orphide sat on the broken stone, watching the display. "Magnificent..."
He wouldn't let anyone take his life. If he was going to die, he would do it on his own terms. "What a beautiful, ill-fated day."
He closed his eyes and breathed his last.
Wayne and the others emerged from the stairs just as the light faded. They saw Ren standing alone in the center of the ruins, his arm hanging limp at his side.
Silence reclaimed the mountain. Finally, Lizred spoke, her voice hushed with awe as she looked at Ren’s back.
"So that... that is the Sword Saint of the Strong Sword, Ren Ashton."
A gentle wind, colored blue and emerald, swept through the temple—a silent thanks from the mountain itself.