Jay tore through the air like a holy comet, golden particles trailing behind him. The scent of damp leaves and freshly torn earth mixed with the bittersweet reek of blood pouring from Pretoriann—who, even wounded, kept smiling like everything was still going exactly according to plan.

  “Damn paladin… you really think pulling me away from the dragon will let you win?” Pretoriann snarled, slamming Gungnir into the ground and triggering a visceral spell.

  A purple circle exploded outward from his feet, staining the soil with draconic symbols and blood thorns.

  “O crawler of darkness, you who raise your rotting hand—claim the ground that belongs to you… Become the land of corruption! DASTATERUN FURRAED! [PROFANE GROUND!]”

  Jay leaped instinctively, boots scraping a thick branch that snapped in half on impact. A black wave detonated where he’d stood—if it had hit him, maybe not even his cloak would’ve remained.

  “Bet you think you look terrifyingly impressive when you pull that off, huh?” Jay snorted mid-air, tracing a glowing seal with two fingers. “But you’re not the only one with flashy moves.”

  Golden seals spiraled around him. Bright light flared from his left hand. Then he spoke the powerful words in Osandian.

  “Gram, let your hand become fire! KASTAFIRAN LUMINAAR! [HOLY FIRE!]”

  A beam of luminous energy descended like a Myriad’s fist, shredding trees like paper. Pretoriann, however, clawed the air with cruel fingers—dozens of small black lances materialized in warped arcs around his body.

  “Echoes of the nefarious lance! DASTAGUNGNIR UMBRA! [GUNGNIR PHANTOM LANCES!]”

  The phantom lances collided with the beam mid-air, erupting in a violent dance of flashes and sparks. Trees around them burned with magical flames. Branches snapped. Smoke thickened the battlefield, choking.

  Jay backpedaled two steps—just enough to create space. Traced another seal. His still-golden eyes locked on the dragon knight with serene fury.

  “OSURII TOMINGURR! [CONFINEMENT SEAL!]”

  Runes shot across the ground like golden serpents, coiling around Pretoriann’s feet. The earth shook, binding the enemy’s body like celestial chains.

  But Pretoriann laughed.

  Laughed even as muscles crushed, even as blood seeped from pores under magical pressure.

  “You know… you’re better than I expected, kid,” he cracked his neck with a dry snap, spitting blood. “But now that you’ve used Cronomanceros… heh… it’s clear. Only a madman would burn a seventh-circle spell to save a camp with three girls. A spell that red-haired mage hoarded for… what, fifty years?”

  Jay froze. The golden aura around him flickered.

  “Shut up,” Jay gripped Visingr two-handed. The blade radiated light like it burned from within. “I don’t have time for theatrics.”

  “Oh, but we do have time.”

  Pretoriann smiled—and the confinement seal cracked like glass under pressure. A heartbeat later, the sound of breaking bones filled the air.

  Jay felt a chill.

  “KASTAVREN MISTIRIA! [MIST LEAP!]”

  Pretoriann dissolved into dark-red blur, reappearing in a tear of crimson mist right behind him. Jay spun at the last second—Visingr crossed Gungnir.

  CLANG!

  The impact shattered trees, sent shockwaves hurling leaves, stones, and animals away.

  Jay flew backward, landing elbow-first against a tree trunk. Pain was real. No blessings here. Gungnir was draining his mana—even his enchantments were starting to fail.

  “Damn. That lance…”

  Pretoriann spun Gungnir, still wearing the impatient hunter’s grin.

  “You know what’s more fun? Every time you try to regenerate… you’re wasting effort. This beauty is the dead god’s lance. Healing doesn’t stick. Blessings don’t stick. Only one thing left…” he lunged with a leap “—skill.”

  Jay drew deep breath, then smirked.

  “Then that’s what I trained my whole life for.”

  His voice echoed light—like telling a joke at a funeral.

  “Dissolve into reflections and shadows! KASTAUMBRI MIRRIA! [ILLUSORY COPIES!]”

  Trees exploded in white flash. Multiple Jays appeared across the field—illusory images moving in perfect sync with the real one.

  Pretoriann frowned.

  “Tch. Beginner tricks?”

  “They work on idiots.”

  Jay appeared overhead, Visingr spinning in spiral, other hand tracing seals.

  “Let Gram’s hand rise in judgment! Aruuma adKRATON DASTAKRATON GRAM! [GRAM’S HOLY HAMMER!]”

  Visingr transformed mid-air into a giant golden mass. It fell like a pure-light meteor.

  Pretoriann raised an arm—scales erupted, forming a sturdy shield.

  “Agh! Rise, scales of the dark dragon! DASTADRACO UMBRASKAEL! [DRACONIC SHIELD!]”

  The impact reverberated through the forest. Monstrous metallic clang shook nearby trees. Flames lit the combatants’ twisted faces. Light crusader against blood-and-shadow knight.

  Both staggered back, panting. Both wounded.

  Pretoriann smiled—blood dripping between teeth.

  “You’re good. But you’re still limited. You’re afraid, aren’t you?”

  Jay straightened. Pauldron cracked. Right eye bleeding.

  “I am.”

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  He said it without shame. Distant thunder rumbled.

  “I’m afraid you’ll reach them.” —he told himself. Couldn’t let the vampyr near the girls.

  Pretoriann smiled again—and felt a tingle. Left foot… stuck?

  Seals began forming beneath him.

  “Gram’s blessed ground shall be your tomb, Pretoriann. O light of Gram, consecrate this soil and purify darkness! Aruuma adTERUN KASTATERUN LUMINAAR! [SACRED GROUND!]”

  “AH—”

  Jay charged.

  The forest exploded in light again.

  …

  The shock of their last exchange still vibrated through the trees like choked thunder.

  Gungnir trembled in Pretoriann’s hands, spitting black mist while its blade devoured air in hungry circles. Jay—flank wounded, part of chest scorched from earlier thrust—still kept eyes locked on the enemy, but hidden tension simmered. Something even the ebony-eyed warrior missed: certainty he was racing time.

  The paladin advanced—sword raised, golden seals traced around him like painting constellations in air.

  “DASTAKRATON GRAM! [HAMMER OF GRAM!]”

  With seal activated, a hammer of pure celestial light collided with Pretoriann like falling star—hurling the vampyr into an oak that exploded on impact. Wood splinters flew like arrows. Dragon knight rose gasping—half his cloak in black flames.

  “Heh… still holding on, paladin?” he growled, spitting blood that dissolved into smoke. “Let’s see if you keep smiling when I’ve got one of your pets’ necks between my teeth!”

  Before Jay answered, Pretoriann clawed air like tearing his own flesh from reality.

  “KASTAVREN MISTIRIA! [MIST LEAP!]”

  Once again crimson smoke swallowed him—then… he vanished.

  Jay stopped. World spun. Pressure settled on nape like invisible fingers. Didn’t need to look to know.

  Pretoriann had retreated. Worse: heading toward camp.

  “…NO!” Jay’s scream echoed—shaking trees for an instant.

  But the dragon—until then hidden in forest shadows—raised its head. Scaly body uncoiled like living serpentine wall. Crimson eyes locked on Jay. And the beast advanced.

  Jay conjured fast:

  “Aruuma KASTAUMBRI MIRRIA! [ILLUSORY COPIES!]”

  Illusory Jays appeared around creature—running different directions, shouting insults and laughing like drunks at festival. Dragon hesitated one second… just one. Enough.

  Jay sprinted. Leaped over roots, leaves, broken branches—flying through shadows and fear.

  When he reached camp…

  World froze.

  Layla and Su Mei lay on ground. Like wilted flowers. Blood—not much—but enough to revolt Jay’s stomach. Moment before, air smelled forest. Now… reek of profane magic.

  And then he saw.

  Pretoriann held Nessa by nape—cleric’s feet dangling. She struggled weakly, tears streaming, sweating… blood.

  “Ah… you made it.” Vampyr smiled. “Late, but you made it. Maybe she survives if I leave just… a little.”

  Jay charged—but ground opened.

  “O profane soil, raise your rotten hands and claim the unwary to death! Aruuma FAERAE TERUN FURRAED! [NEFARIOUS GROUND!]”

  Rotten, filthy, fetid hands—like forgotten corpses in shallow graves—grabbed paladin’s legs. He fought, cut, struggled—but swamp swallowed. Pretoriann laughed loud—each cackle echoing funeral bells.

  And dragon…

  Dragon came. Like black comet.

  Jay roared—not courage. Rage. Rage at himself, time, cursed lance… life repeating mistakes. He screamed nameless prayer.

  And then…

  Sky split.

  Something cut air like divine bell shattering. Sword fell. Not summoned. Not thrown. Simply appeared—like universe dropped it carelessly.

  GUNG!

  It sliced through air light-wreathed, spun once… and tore Pretoriann’s arm off.

  Vampyr screamed. No sound came. Body wrapped violet aura crackling like nervous stars. Gungnir fell from hands—black wood hissing like weeping.

  Nessa collapsed unconscious beside others. Jay screamed for her—still trapped.

  And sword…

  Floated.

  Split into twin blades, metallic sphere pulsing heart-like between them. Rune after rune burned in ancient forgotten tongues. Sword that protected Nessa… resonated with her body. And her body… remembered. From somewhere between forgotten lives.

  Dragon advanced.

  Sword shone.

  World went white.

  When color returned—dragon split clean in half. No sound. No resistance. Gravity itself seemed to respect blade—cuts clean, existence… impossible.

  And beyond light…

  Jay saw.

  Woman. Long hair. Red as sacred blood.

  Elven face.

  “Lanthis?”

  No. Couldn’t be. Dead. Or lost in time. Or… dreaming?

  She said nothing. Just smiled. Soft, familiar… sad.

  And vanished.

  Sword fell with dry sound.

  Pretoriann staggered. Grabbed crystal left by dragon—gleaming, pulsing power—and vanished into darkness like furious ghost.

  “This… isn’t over, paladin! I SWEAR!” voice echoed—full hate and pain.

  Jay dropped to knees.

  Sweating. Gasping. Bloodied. But alive.

  Girls alive. That was all that mattered.

  “…what the hell was that…?”

  He looked at sword.

  It no longer moved.

  Silent. Inert.

  But air around it still vibrated—like it had just heard true name of Myriad… or nefraii.

  …

  Silence after dragon’s destruction thick as cold smoke. Jay—still kneeling—kept body bowed, trembling hands braced on profane-blackened earth. Sweat ran down face side, mixing with forehead cut. Visingr—still wrapped faint golden sparks—rested beside knee. Before him, rune-adorned sword with central floating sphere lay on ground like it existed since world’s dawn.

  He glanced skyward—like seeking explanation—but red-haired figure gone. Nothing left but blade and deep sense… protection. Presence that didn’t impose—just existed. Like distant gaze never blinking.

  “Thank you…” Jay whispered—soft, mixing reverence and exhaustion.

  Behind him cough interrupted thoughts. Then another—hoarser. Then grunt:

  “Mnngh… what hit me? Was it… cart with teeth?” Nessa stirred, turning with difficulty. Leaves in hair, dried blood on neck—humor seemingly intact. “Oh no… we’re still alive?”

  Jay rose fast—went to her.

  “We are. Barely,” voice calm as sea before storm. Eyes scanned field—watching smallest movement.

  Su Mei sat up fluid—even dirt-and-blood-stained. Blinked twice, fixed hair elegantly—like waking from intense dream.

  “This one believes just visited ethereal plane. Flying boar… lightning garden…” She smiled sweetly. “Slightly uncomfortable.”

  Layla bolted upright—eyes wide, feline ears puffed, hands groping air.

  “That black knight still here?! Meow?! Where’s my axe?!”

  Jay nodded toward distant steaming scale pile.

  “Knight fled. Dragon. Dead.”

  Layla exhaled.

  “Miauur, good… because look, if he tried one more… I swear by meow, I’d…” She froze mid-sentence seeing sword on ground. “…that… isn’t Nessa’s sword?”

  Jay nodded slowly—eyes returning to fallen blade.

  “It manifested. Like before. But… stronger this time. Cut dragon clean in half. Alone.”

  Layla stared—Jay to sword—incredulous.

  “And now it’s just… sitting there? Quiet? Like… hibernating? Meow?”

  Jay approached—touched hilt cautiously.

  Blade trembled lightly—like recognizing him. With restrained effort, Jay lifted it. Heavy. Absurdly heavy. Not like iron… like carrying entire burden of unspoken memories.

  “Huh…” Layla crossed arms. “Either it likes you… or you’re way stronger than you look, meow.”

  Jay just gave corner-smile—hiding another truth behind calm gaze.

  Su Mei approached—steps soft as wind-silk.

  “This one contemplates artifact with reverence… but also fear. Doesn’t like being touched, does it? Seems… alive.”

  “It is alive,” Nessa said—now standing, Jay supporting one arm. Eyes sunken, exhausted—but smiling tired smile after surviving impossible. “And always appears when I need… never on my command. Like temperamental cosmic cat with guardian complex.”

  Layla huffed—hands on hips.

  “Hey! Temperamental loyal cosmic cats are best! Meow!”

  “No doubt,” Nessa grumbled—leaning on Jay. “But this sword… different. Heavier. Denser. Doesn’t want to follow me now.”

  “Maybe needs rest too,” Jay said—carefully sheathing blade across back, no proper scabbard. “Or maybe… entrusted me this part of path.”

  “Hmm…” Su Mei watched half-lidded. “This one believes too many stories in that silence.”

  No one answered.

  Finally unexpected sound from trees: happy whinny and calm steps.

  Everyone turned.

  “…no.” Layla narrowed eyes. “Don’t tell me…”

  And there he was: Aethon the horse. Walking placidly through bushes—satisfied expression of one who found continent’s best stream and ate local grass like divine banquet.

  Carried branch in teeth.

  “Of course,” Nessa rolled eyes. “While we fought dragon and crazed vampyr elf, horse was… on vacation.”

  Jay just sighed—relieved.

  “At least he’s fine.”

  “This one salutes wisest creature in group.” Su Mei pressed palms together—solemn.

  Layla scratched behind ear, huffing.

  “I’m tying that horse to my leg next time, meow.”

  Jay adjusted sword on back—extended hand to Nessa, still limping slightly.

  “Let’s break camp. Can’t stay here longer. Magical dust in this place still alive.”

  Nessa nodded.

  “Agreed. And before I forget… if anyone finds my tome in mess—don’t open marked page. Serious. Group trust has limits.”

  Su Mei blinked.

  “This one feels burning curiosity.”

  “Ah. Why did I open my mouth…”

  And so—between tired jokes, exchanged looks, strange tranquility of being alive—group slowly pieced itself together. Wounded, yes. Exhausted, too. But united—as always. Each step forward—even under black clouds and conscious weapons—was step right direction.

  For now… that was enough.

  ?