"Though the time granted to you is but a fleeting moment, you concern yourself with me?"
It was a fair point, yet Ren desired that fleeting moment—that single, desperate heartbeat.
Another breath lunged toward him. It bore a heat so intense it could turn anything to vapor in a heartbeat, unleashed with the sole intent of erasing Ren from existence.
(Endure! Please... just for a second! That’s all I need!)
One second would be enough. One second to resist. One second to bare his fangs against the Red Dragon.
Ren intended to stake everything on this next strike.
Even now, the sheer pressure of the heatwave threatened to break his spirit. And yet, he had to push forward. He felt like faltering; he wanted to give up. A dozen conflicting emotions wailed within his heart, but in defiance of them all, he steeled himself with the grim resolve that there would be no second chance.
"Sleep in the flames, weakling."
Ren thrust his fist forward, challenging the dragon's breath once more. He pushed the Shield Magic Sword in his hand past its limits, pouring mana into it like a torrential flood for less than a single second.
Yes—a fleeting moment.
In that brief window, which felt like an eternity to Ren, the spreading hellfire incinerated his shield. Upon contact, the weapon dissolved into particles of light, as if the mere touch of the dragon’s fire invited all things to become ash.
But that was the exact moment Ren had been waiting for.
A faint, sharp smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. He didn't speak the words, but his mind raced with a single question:
(Will my body burn out first—or will I reach you?)
Ren’s resolve outstripped the dragon's aim. His desperate acceleration was a fraction faster than the speed at which Asval could shift the angle of its breath. Kicking off the earth, Ren rocketed upward.
Finally, he reached the same height as Asval’s eyes.
Exerting every ounce of his physical strength, he threw his weapon. The Iron Magic Sword left his hand, reflecting the subterranean light like a falling comet as it soared through the air.
It drove itself deep into the single horn remaining on Asval’s head.
The dragon unleashed a cry of agony, a sound far more piteous than any that had come before.
"That a mere scrap of iron... could mar my horn—!"
The brilliant red wind swirling around Asval died down instantly. The crimson scales covering its massive frame began to crumble and flake away. As Asval thrashed its tail and swung its body in a blind frenzy, Ren used the falling debris as footholds to leap higher.
His hand closed around the hilt of the Iron Magic Sword embedded in the horn. Landing firmly on the horn itself, he gripped the hilt with both hands and threw his entire body weight into pulling the blade toward him.
"Kh... just a little more...!"
Whether the heat and the red wind were tied directly to the horn, the oppressive temperature had vanished the moment the bone was wounded. It wasn't that the heat was gone entirely—the stinging pain of his skin searing remained, and his clothes were scorching further—but it was no longer lethal. The heat that should have killed him in an instant had weakened enough for him to endure it.
"—!?"
As the Iron Magic Sword bit deeper, threatening to sever the horn entirely, the pain surged through Asval. The dragon bucked and swayed, extending a powerful arm to snatch Ren away. But just before the claws could close around him, the beast shrieked.
Ren had gouged the horn further, driving the dragon into a fresh fit of agony.
The blade moved through the bone easier than he had anticipated. Despite his desperate strength, Asval’s horn wasn't as hard as it should have been. Perhaps it was the nature of the undead, or perhaps the dragon lacked the power to maintain its physical form. Whatever the cause, if the beast had been whole, wounding it would have been an impossible task for the current Ren.
Asval whipped its head back and forth. Ren felt as though he would be flung into the abyss if his focus wavered for even a second. He refused to let go, pouring everything into his grip as he twisted the blade and carved through the horn.
Finally—
A crack spiderwebbed across the surface, and reddish-black blood sprayed from the breach. Asval roared and wailed, its neck thrashing like a whip. Ren held on for dear life at the end of that violent arc.
Suddenly, Asval slammed its head toward the ground, intending to crush Ren against the flow of lava.
Ren did not retreat. He did not run. He knew that falling into the lava meant certain death, but he was equally certain that if he missed this chance, there would be no victory.
(Just... a little more...!)
The dragon's neck lashed out. The lava rushed toward him, the heat rising to swallow him whole.
But then, the cracks in the horn reached their limit.
As the battered Ren let out a final roar, the cracks encircled the base of the horn. Deep crimson light erupted alongside a geyser of blood.
Rather than a clean cut, the horn shattered at the root. Shards and blood rained down, and Ren’s body, blinded by the crimson flash, was tossed into the air along with the massive, detached horn.
Asval collapsed.
The Red Dragon hit the ground with a force that made the earth tremble, its massive frame lying prone. Scales scattered like dead leaves, and blood splattered across the cavern, releasing a foul, jet-black miasma.
In a hoarse, rattling voice, it hissed "You!", attempting to heave its broken body upward to strike. But the boy it had dismissed as a weakling was already closing in.
Ren charged toward the slightly exposed Mana Stone. His gait was unsteady; his vision swam and his body wobbled, his physical limits long since surpassed. But he reached his goal.
Clambering onto Asval’s heaving chest, he stood before the exposed Mana Stone. He raised his Iron Magic Sword high.
"I told you—I’m serious!"
He swung with everything he had. Ordering his body—which creaked like gears stripped of oil—to move, he slammed the sword into the stone where Fiona lay trapped.
Asval threw its head back and unleashed a mindless, frantic breath into the ceiling. Ren didn't stop. He struck the Mana Stone again and again.
On the second strike, his mind was singular: destroy the stone.
On the third strike, he felt a surge of relief as he saw Fiona was still alive within.
On the fourth strike, he ignored the dragon's screams, refusing to let his guard down for a second.
On the fifth strike, delivered with a guttural roar, the Iron Magic Sword shattered into a thousand pieces—and Asval’s Mana Stone finally cracked.
"OOOOOOOOOOOOOOO—!"
Asval’s final roar shook the very foundations of the subterranean world. The lava flow surged, and the tremors intensified. Rocks falling from the ceiling grew in size and number, turning the cavern into a death trap.
The mana previously sealed within the stone brushed against Ren’s cheek. Having lost its vessel, the energy coiled around Ren’s bracelet and surged into his arm.
"Kh... at the very end!"
Ren’s arm was scorched by the sudden influx. His skin turned a bruised, black-red, and a white-hot agony flared whenever he tried to move it. As he cradled his ruined arm with his good one, the bracelet began to glow with a light of its own.
Text flickered across the crystal of the bracelet:
— • Flame Magic Sword (Level 1: 1/1) —
He couldn't find the strength to be happy. He understood he had obtained this from Asval’s stone, but the cost had been the use of his arm. In this hellish environment, he would have traded the sword for a healthy limb in a heartbeat.
But priorities came first.
Ren forced his body to move, reaching into the shattered stone to lift Fiona out. He pulled her free from Asval’s remains. She blinked slowly, looking up at him. Her eyes were vacant, her consciousness still drifting, but she was definitely looking at him.
"...Adventurer-san?"
"I'm sorry. I'm late."
Beads of cold sweat rolled down his forehead as he put on a brave face. He carried her away from Asval. He briefly considered delivering a finishing blow, as the dragon had gone eerily still, its neck stretched out and stiff. But Ren’s instincts screamed at him to run the moment he had Fiona.
"...I'm so sorry."
As Ren began to run, Fiona spoke, tears tracing paths through the soot on her face as she pressed against his chest.
"I... I really..."
"It’s okay. Don't worry about it."
"But—!"
"It wasn't your fault. No one could have known this would happen. Besides... you were the one who protected me. You don't have anything to apologize for."
His gentle words broke her composure, and she began to sob. Hoping to ease his pain even a little, Fiona used the last of her mana, placing her hand over the burn on his arm. A soothing, icy chill wrapped around the wound.
Then, she forced herself to stand on her own feet. Ren gave a short word of thanks and focused on the path ahead. His vision was a blurred mess, but he knew where he was going.
(I can do this.)
Because Ren had shattered the horn and the stone, Asval's influence over the area had weakened. The lava flow was beginning to recede, revealing one of the paths that led back to the surface. Ren let Fiona lean on his shoulder, and they began to hobble forward together.
But they were not alone.
"Shiii... Shiiiiiiiii..."
Asval was still there.
Having lost its horn and its Mana Stone, the dragon had lost every shred of the intelligence it once possessed. Its body was rotting at an accelerated rate. Its eyes glowed a flat, haunting blue, and the breath leaking from its maw had turned from fire into a toxic miasma. With every twitch of its limbs, a foul stench and dark fog rose from the ground.
It should have been dead. For any other creature, the destruction of its Mana Stone would have been the end. But even as its flesh sloughed off, the dragon continued to move, a grotesque parody of its former legendary strength. Eventually, it would collapse and fall into a sleep from which it would never wake, but no one could say how much longer it would take.
(I have to get us out of here—!)
Ren's mind was consumed by a single goal: escape. He had nothing left to fight with. Fiona was likely the same; having been drained by the stone, she could barely support her own weight.
The goal remained the same. He had to get Fiona out of the Baldur Mountains and back to Eupeheim safely. The Demon King Cult and everything else could wait.
His legs felt like lead. Even though he felt like he was pushing himself to run, they were barely making any progress. His vision darkened at the edges.
(Just a little... more...)
He had long since passed his breaking point. Moving on pure willpower was no longer enough. His foot caught on the uneven ground, and he lurched forward.
"Adventurer-san!"
Fiona caught him. She, who had been leaning on him, now took his weight. Ren, his consciousness fading into a dark haze, managed to whisper, "Please, just run."
Fiona didn't listen. With steps even slower than before, she desperately dragged them both forward.
"Huu... Huu... Shiiiiiiii..."
A sickening, wet sound echoed behind them. Fiona glanced back to see Asval crawling toward them on four legs, its corrupted body shedding miasma with every move. It was a ghastly sight—a legend reduced to a rotting horror.
"Don't come any closer!"
Fiona, who had more mana than Ren, conjured a wall of ice. But Asval didn't even slow down. The sturdy wall was shattered as if it were made of glass. Fiona gasped as the dragon closed the gap.
"OOOOOOOOOO—!"
Asval slammed its powerful arms into the ground again and again. Shards of Star Agate flew through the air like bullets. Fiona blocked them with more ice, but the dragon was relentless. It lunged, its massive claws descending to crush them both.
"—!?"
The blow landed, but at the last possible second, Fiona encased them in a thick, crystalline dome of ice. The impact sent them both sprawling. A rock shard grazed Fiona’s cheek, and a thin trail of red blood ran down her face.
But as the blood touched Ren, something strange happened. Fiona didn't notice, but the moment her blood made contact with him, it turned from red to pitch-black.
"Re... no, Adventurer-san."
Cradling Ren as they lay together on the cold floor, Fiona repeated "I’m sorry" over and over. Outside the dome, the sound of Asval’s claws hammering against the ice was deafening. The dragon was mindless now, its strength a fraction of what it once was, which was the only reason the ice held at all.
"When this breaks, I’ll protect you again."
Her cheeks were wet with tears and blood as she rested Ren’s head on her lap.
"I will stop that dragon, no matter what, so you can go back to the Clausels... So please, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry for dragging you into this."
Her voice was a trembling wreck.
"...You even made a promise to me... I'm so sorry."
After countless apologies, she finally reached out and touched his cheek. She gently wiped away his sweat, a silent thanks for the boy who had risked everything to save her.
A massive crack spiderwebbed across the ice dome. Fiona looked at it and knew the end had come.
"Thank you so much for everything at the fort."
There was one last thing she had to say.
"It was only a year, but because of you, I was able to spend my final moments living like a human being."
She wiped her eyes one last time.
"Goodbye, Master Ren."
Was it a dream, or was this what lay beyond death?
When Ren opened his eyes, he was walking alone through a silent corridor.
...What was this place? He had been fighting Asval, trying to find a way out of the Star Agate Underpass... but where was he now? His senses felt too sharp for a dream, and it didn't feel like the afterlife.
The corridor was vast, paved with polished black marble. Flowing stained glass was set into the walls at perfect intervals, and beyond the glass lay a void of absolute darkness. Above, a grand chandelier illuminated his path.
After walking for some time, he came upon a massive, intricately carved door. No matter how hard he pushed, it wouldn't budge—until a voice broke the silence.
"Even though you went through the trouble of promising me, I’m sorry."
The moment he heard Fiona’s voice, a soft click echoed, as if a lock had been turned. The door swung open on its own, inviting him in.
The room beyond was cylindrical, its walls lined with even more magnificent stained glass. The images depicted scenes of an ancient war, possessing a solemn, breathtaking power. His footsteps echoed hollowly as he stepped into the center of the chamber.
Ren was alone. In the center of the room stood a stone pedestal. Thrust into the top of it was a jet-black longsword.
Ren walked toward it. The sound of the door closing behind him didn't even make him turn. His confusion about where he was or how he had gotten there vanished, replaced by an singular focus on the black blade.
He stood before the pedestal, staring at the sword.
"—Thank you so much for looking out for me at the fort."
Fiona’s voice again. It sounded as though she were standing right beside him, yet also as if she were speaking from a world far away.
"It was only for about a year, but because of you, I was able to spend my final moments living as a human."
Ren realized then that he wasn't dead. Hearing the profound sadness in her voice, a surge of desperation hit him. He had to get back. He had to save her.
But he didn't know how. Just as he was searching for a way out, his eyes locked onto the black sword. It was impossible, but he felt as though the blade was calling to him.
"Goodbye, Master Ren."
Hearing her final farewell, Ren reached for the sword.
A sudden light flashed from his bracelet.
— • ???? (Level 1: 1/1) —
The notation was the same as the mysterious sword that had appeared during his fight with Jelququ. Was this the same blade? Was it connected to Fiona’s hidden power? Did she have a Mana Stone inside her as well?
No—that didn't feel right. Ren thought back to the sound of the lock turning after Fiona spoke. It was possible her power had acted on him in some way, but it didn't feel like the influence of a Mana Stone.
Which meant this sword was something Ren had possessed from the very beginning.
(I still don't understand any of this.)
He briefly wondered if he had a Mana Stone inside his own body, but he dismissed the thought as absurd.
"Whatever it is," Ren said aloud, "if you can save her, then give me your strength!"
The moment he gripped the hilt, a change surged through him. Dense, potent mana flowed into his body without end. It was a miracle he could even stand after his exhaustion, but as the energy filled him, a sense of empowerment he had never known took hold. The sensation peaked and then faded, and the jet-black sword vanished from the pedestal.
The door behind him creaked open. Beyond it lay a dazzling, brilliant light. Ren knew instinctively that this was the way back. He began to walk toward the light.
The Flame Magic Sword came to mind. It was the power he needed to finish Asval. Before, a splitting headache had told him the weapon was beyond his control. But now, with the mana from the black sword coursing through him, that concern was gone.
"Come forth. Flame Magic Sword."
He commanded it, and the blade appeared in his hand—the same hand that had held the black sword. A straight sword wreathed in fire manifested effortlessly.
— • Flame Magic Sword (Level 1: ■/1) —
As he stepped closer to the light, the weapon began to transform. The flames around the blade shifted color, and the sword lengthened. The hilt grew larger, and the silver metal turned into a flawless, untarnished gold.
— • Flame ■ Sword (Level ■: ■/1) —
Ren felt the power he had received from the black sword being consumed by the flame blade. With every step, the transformation progressed until the weapon was a massive longsword, nearly as tall as he was. The name on his bracelet changed.
The name was: Flame Sword Asval.
Standing before the threshold of the light, Ren felt the weight of reality return. His body ached. He felt the crushing fatigue and the headache of nearly depleted mana. The burn on his arm throbbed, reminding him of what awaited.
But he had the strength to move again. And in his hand, he held a golden sword. What was that black blade? And why had the Flame Magic Sword evolved like this?
"Well... it doesn't matter."
If Fiona’s power was the key, he could just ask her. After he finished this. After he killed the rampaging Asval. He would ask her everything.
Ren took a firm, resolute step into the light.
After her final words to Ren, Fiona had been desperately using her magic to hold back Asval’s strikes. But she was at her limit. As the dragon's massive arm descended, she knew she couldn't stop it. This was the end.
"Kh..."
But the blow never came.
A hand pulled her trembling shoulder back. The descending arm was repelled by a sudden, violent burst of flame from a sword.
"—! Master Ren?"
In an instant, her despair vanished. The black-haired girl looked up at him, her eyes wide with shock and relief, a single tear tracing a path down her cheek.
"Yes. My apologies for the late introduction," Ren said, a gentle, reassuring smile on his face despite his injuries. "My name is Ren Ashton."