Across Eternity Bk. 07 Ch. 16

The Summit

Deep in the dungeons below the ruins of the Andromeda Estate, Ragar snarled as the parasite fused with his spine, sending its tendrils digging deep into his nervous system. As a Profane, such a procedure shouldn't have affected him, but his body didn't know how to handle the sudden influx of parasite venom now flowing into him. Ragar's breathing was heavy as he felt the power threaten to completely take over his mind.

He had to struggle to remain conscious and not black out. It was like he had suddenly grown a second heart, and it could not get into rhythm with the first, leaving him feeling like he was about to keel over. Beside him, Miasmarda was having a similar reaction. These parasites were still prototypes, and it was clear that a great deal of work remained to be done, but they were exactly what Ragar needed.

"Tysinger, are you sure you won't take one yourself?" he asked as he sat up on the torture rack he had been using as a bed.

"Honestly, I find the whole parasite concept repulsive as a warrior. It's one thing to become a Profane by receiving the venom, transforming into a superior life form, but to need one of those disgusting things clinging to you, constantly pumping in venom, it just seems like a crutch. Besides, using one after you've already been naturally turned is just an admission of failure."

"We DID fail, and this is how we make it right. We're going to take back the prince and exterminate his friends."

"Well, if I'm not strong enough to defeat my foe, I'd rather just die with my dignity intact."

"You're not allowed to die," said Ragar, putting on his shirt. "It is your job to kill the Wandering Spirit. He's been a thorn in our side for far too long."

"Gladly."

The three ghouls left the dungeon and made their way up to the surface, where the moon dimly lit the landscape. Outside, Umbra and a small army of fiends were waiting.

"Are you sure this will be enough?" Tysinger asked. "Considering how Noah and his friends slaughtered everyone at the party, I'm not sure this meager group will be enough to get the job done."

"Fear not, for these fiends are merely the tip of the iceberg. We have far more allies just waiting to be called upon."

"Oh? Who's that?"

"Andromeda's mansion was originally a dwarven fortress, and all dwarven fortresses and settlements are built on top of mines. When she and her peerage would finish their meals, they'd use the mine as a waste chute, chucking the bones and unwanted remains into the deep, dark pit. For almost a thousand years, she and her peerage, as well as all our kin who have passed through her doors, feasted upon the living and cast their bones into the mine, filling it to the brim. They served our race as food, and now, they will serve us as soldiers." Ragar then bit into both his wrists and sent his blood pouring onto the ground. "Desanctified Burial. Macabre Craftwork."

His blood spread through the dirt and rock, seemingly doubling in mass every second. Augmented by the parasite on his back, his powers bled down into the roots of the mountain and seeped into the ancient bones stored in the mine below. As a wielder of corrupted stone magic, he could summon the undead so long as they were buried in or stood upon his Cursed Earth, created by spilling his blood, and thanks to the parasite, he could now do both almost without limit. As his blood continued to splash on the ground, the entire mountain shook, with endless legions of skeletons beginning to shift. As one, the undead army lurched to serve the bidding of their master.

Around the base of the mountain, geysers of earth erupted, hurling dirt and rock into the air due to the pressure underneath. The skeletons forced their way to the surface, trampling Andromeda's gardens and all the surrounding buildings as they dug themselves out of their mass grave. Bones that could not rejoin to form individual skeletons instead amalgamated to create hulking undead abominations. Thousands, tens of thousands, hundreds of thousands, they emerged, ready to serve Ragar.

"And now, we march, and may the mountains themselves quake in terror from our steps," announced Ragar. With his wrists continuing to bleed, he descended to join his legion with his undead daughters always at his side. "PROFANE! MOVE OUT! TO THE EAST!" he shouted.

Tysinger and Miasmarda took to their mounts and flew overhead, with the army of fiends following while bringing Gradius's coffin. They headed towards the Ashok Mountains, with the combined footfalls of all the skeletons and fiends shaking the ground. As dawn approached, Miasmarda shed his cloak and began pumping out black fumes with greater volume than ever before, blocking out the sun like a nuclear winter.

Ragar continued to spill his blood onto the ground, spreading his Cursed Earth in all directions to both maintain his army and to cultivate it. Wildlife that trampled on his territory had their life energy siphoned away and died, only to rise once more as new additions to his forces. The skeletons of animals and people, scattered across the wilderness and left to rot, pulled themselves together and began to march. Trees, killed by the corrupted soil, shed their leaves as their branches became like writhing black tentacles. They ripped themselves free of the earth, dragging themselves to join the ranks.

They marched without pause, continuing to move during both night and day. No obstacle could slow them down or hold them back, with the skeletons climbing over each other to scale the highest cliffs, or working together like ants to form bridges over ravines. As they marched, Umbra and other winged fiends hunted beyond Ragar's Cursed Earth, collecting food to sustain him on this march, and also scouting ahead. It was only a matter of time before they closed in on the eagle tribe village.

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"Noah!" Valia exclaimed, shaking him awake, but Noah was already aware before he heard her voice. His lungs and eyes were burning from the toxic vapor filling the air in their tent. Shannon was in the same condition, and as they staggered out into their campsite, everyone else was suffering as well, with the horses collapsing one after another. The entire mountain was shrouded in a thick layer of smog.

"Guys, Cyrilo's not waking up!" Daniel shouted, dragging her outside. Sophia went to work trying to save her, but she was also succumbing to the fumes.

"Cynatas, get out here!" Noah shouted.

The tiny elf emerged from Roc's yurt and looked around, realizing what was going on. "Cleansing Breath!" she cast, purifying the air around the yurt. Now able to breathe, Sophia started healing Cyrilo, who suddenly erupted into a coughing fit as her lungs resumed functioning.

"What's going on?" Foley asked.

"The Profane are here. They've reached us," said Noah. He could only see the area around the home of Roc's family, as the rest was blocked off by a wall of smoke, but he could taste the lingering Profane malice. "We have to get all of the villagers into the valley below! It's the only way they'll make it!"

"No, we need to fly about the clouds! This poison could have filled the entire valley!" Roc argued. He was then silenced as Tican hit the ground beside him, his bones broken and his flesh torn to shreds. Drowning in his own blood, he gave a single pained gargle and then fell silent.

"There are fiends above us. They won't let anyone get above the cloud. We have to descend!" said Noah.

With Cynatas continuing to purify the air, Noah and the others rushed into the village, where the members of Roc's tribe were dropping like flies as they were smothered by the miasma. Sophia tried to heal as many as she could, but people were dying faster than she could reach them. Again and again, Cynatas would blast away the fumes, but unless she maintained a barrier to hold them back, they would come rushing in. She recognized this poison gas as coming from the gangly ghoul she had encountered, but it was so much more powerful than before, pushing against her with the weight of the ocean. Seraph helped where he could, trying to burn away the fumes, but he encountered the same problem. No matter how much he erased, more was always closing in. Their only choice was to escape.

"Down into the valley! Everyone, move!" Noah shouted, trying to herd the villagers down the mountainside.

Wrapping their faces with wet scarves to try to block out the fumes, the men and women of the eagle tribe spread their wings and took flight, gliding down towards the lower areas, carrying infants and the sick with them. The children and elderly struggled to stay conscious, with the strongest trying to help the weakest reach safety. Noah and his friends, along with most of the villagers, managed to break free of the toxic cloud cover and escape to the valley below, only to find the true threat waiting. Ragar's army was marching through the valley towards them like a slow-moving flood, toppling trees, flattening the landscape, and killing every creature that crossed their path. Overhead, winged fiends filled the sky, feeling right at home in the death cloud.

"Well, shit," Noah muttered. "Valia, what do your elf eyes see?"

Valia studied the enemy force with a worried scowl. "I see the ghoul pumping out the smoke on top of one of those giant birds, with Tysinger on another. In the center of the army is that humungous moving pile of corpses, and I bet Ragar is sealed up inside for protection. There, towards the back, I see Gradius's coffin on a big cart. They're in the process of unlocking it."

"Noah, what do we do?" Seraph asked.

"We need to escape this valley. We can't fight them here."

Despite Noah's words, he wasn't sure how to escape. The mountain ranges enclosing the valley were like two walls, and any openings were so high up that they were filled with gas, making them unpassable by wing or foot. For all intents and purposes, they were sealed in with sheer cliffs around them, the black sky above them, and an army of undead swarming towards them.

"Ralacad!" Hadat exclaimed, hobbling over to them. His steps were unsteady, and he was struggling to breathe, having inhaled too much gas. Sophia caught him before he collapsed and went to work healing him. "There is a tunnel that can get us out of here; a dwarven passage that leads in and out of the valley." He pointed to the base of one of the mountains near the center of the valley, but it was awfully close to the undead army, with the distance closing with each passing moment.

"We need to hurry there before the undead overrun the area. Everyone, get moving!"

The members of the eagle tribe spread their wings and took flight, flying low to the ground. Several volunteers carried Noah and the others, just like Roc had carried Lupin, grabbing them by the shoulders and flying over the tops of trees. However, they did not get far before the fiends made their move.

They fell from the black clouds like toxic rain, attacking the eagle tribe members. In the air, the fiends had the advantage, and the eagle warriors, despite their strength and training, stood no chance. They were all knocked out of the sky, many dying before they hit the ground. Everyone was forced to land, with the fiends circling overhead.

"Don't stop! Keep moving!" Noah shouted. Everyone took off in a run, but at the pace they were going, there was little chance of reaching the tunnel before the undead, and everyone knew it. "We need to split up and take out the leaders! Roc and Cynatas, you deal with that poison ghoul!" If we can clear the sky and bring in the sunlight, we'll win! Cyrilo, Alexis, Sophia, and Daniel, you take care of Gradius!"

"How the fuck do you expect us to do that?!" Daniel exclaimed.

"Tarnas said that your music during the Red Revelry calmed him during the rampage! It may work again! Just pacify him while Sophia and Cyrilo bury him with earth magic! We just need him out of the picture until the sky is clear! Valia and I will take on Ragar!"

"What about my people?" Roc asked.

"Shannon, Seraph, and Foley will help protect the eagle tribe and clear a path to the tunnel! Lupin, go with them!"

"Roc, I swear this to you; I will not let history repeat itself!" Shannon promised.

Everyone split up to complete their tasks. Shannon, Seraph, and Foley remained with the eagle tribe, sprinting through the forest towards the dwarven tunnel. Fiends swooped down to attack, but as long as the eagle tribe stayed on the ground, so would their attackers.

"Aim for their heads!" Shannon yelled as she loaded her bow with three arrows and launched them, killing a trio of fiends with acid and explosions.

Amor and his warriors followed suit, unleashing their might and fury upon their monstrous foes. Seeing the fiends for the first time, they were understandably afraid, but they still remembered Daniel's music and stories from the previous night. Fierce as their enemies were, at the end of the day, a monster was just a monster, and all monsters could be slain. With mana wrapped around their legs, they delivered devastating kicks that crushed ribcages and pulverized skulls, while their hands, similarly glowing and flattened like blades, slashed through muscle and flesh like sharpened swords.

The fiends, used to relying on brute strength and their savage instincts, were outmaneuvered by the honed combat techniques, for such was the purpose of their creation. Almost all schools of martial arts were born to help the weak defeat the strong, countering savagery with finesse and precision, and this was the perfect example. The easy, seductive power of Profane might was being overpowered by the legacy and discipline of the eagle tribe's fighting style.

When martial arts failed, and the size and strength of their foes left the eagle warriors unable to match up, Seraph and Foley jumped in to save them. With his family shield, Foley blocked every attack, no matter how strong, with fangs, claws, and all manner of evil breaking against his defenses like water on rock. As Foley played defense, Seraph's hammer rained down upon the Profane menace. Each strike was fatal, setting off an explosion of light that fried the flesh of his enemies. Eventually, they encountered the wave of undead, and just like at the mansion, Seraph cleared them away with a burst of holy magic. However, no matter how many he destroyed, for every skeleton that turned to ash, a hundred more lunged for him.

With the eagle tribe being looked after, Roc was able to focus on Miasmarda, and with Cynatas at his side, he had nothing to worry about. They closed in on the ghoul, riding on the back of his Profane vulture just below the cloud cover. Seeing them approach, Miasmarda hissed in annoyance and swung his arm. The black clouds above him obeyed his will, twisting into a tornado that he then hurled at the two like a blast of death.

"Cleansing Breath!" Cynatas cast, dispersing the attack and purifying the air. She swung her own arm and countered with a barrage of massive wind blades, narrowly missing Miasmarda and ripping through the cloud cover, making the thick black fumes splash like water. Sunlight poured in for the briefest moment, and all the skeletons that fell under its light dropped to the ground, unable to remain standing.

Roc, wearing one of Noah's gas masks, rocketed towards Miasmarda. Neither he nor Noah were sure of how well it would actually work against the Profane fumes, so Cynatas was in charge of neutralizing enemy attacks, but Roc hoped it would protect him long enough to land a solid hit. Seeing him approach, Miasmarda's vulture swerved to the side to avoid him, and Miasmarda blasted him with a jet of smog. It hit him like a water jet, making him feel like his bones would break and his skin would peel, knocking him out of the air. Dizzy and in pain, he regained his balance in midair and flew behind Cynatas, who created a barrier to protect them both.

With Miasmarda's blast colliding against her barrier, she countered with a blast of her own, launching bursts of pure concussive force at the ghoul and his mount. The vulture swooped to dodge, though one of her blasts hit its legs and ripped the limbs right off. Miasmarda snarled and began swinging his arm over his head in a circle. A new tornado was born, far larger than the one summoned before, reaching down from the sky and consuming all three of them. His vulture fluttered effortlessly in the powerful gale like a boat on a still lake, while Roc and Cynatas were tossed around in the gale like kites in a hurricane.

"Final Breath!" Cynatas cast, gathering all of her strength and focus and creating an explosion of wind, rupturing the tornado and dispelling Miasmarda's magic.

She then reached out and caught Roc, creating a net of air to stop him from falling and let him collect himself. Once she was sure he was all right, she threw him at Miasmarda like a stone from a sling. Roc spread his wings and shot past Miasmarda, using his talons to slice open the lungs on his back. Miasmarda broke down in a coughing fit, struggling to get air through his system. Even as a Profane, his lings were his weak point and slow to heal.

He gave his vulture a wordless command, and it shrieked in obedience, dropping down towards the ground to open up distance between him and his pursuers. Roc and Cynatas chased after him, with Miasmarda bringing down black tornadoes to try to trip them up. Though he could not create more smoke until his lungs healed, he still had full control of the smoke he had already released. Roc was holding Cynatas close to his chest, the two of them hot on his trail, swerving in all directions to avoid the giant twisting pillars of death. If not for her manipulating the air around them, he'd have no chance of flying with so many different crosswinds pulling him in different directions.

They had almost reached him, but out of the smoke, Umbra appeared and tackled Roc in midair, grabbing him by the throat and separating him from Cynatas. "There you are. I've been looking for you," he growled with a cruel smile.

"Cynatas!" Roc shouted as Umbra pulled him away.

Cynatas faced a tough decision. Should she go after Umbra to save Roc, or continue pursuing Miasmarda? Roc had told her about how the bat fiend beat him to within an inch of his life, and the thought of him in such peril made her sick with dread, but if she could kill Miasmarda and clear the sky, the sunlight could save him. Emotions aside, her choice was clear. Miasmarda was the keystone of the Profane invasion and had to be killed so that everyone could live.

"Forgive me, Roc. Just hang on!" she desperately whispered.

She gathered together every drop of magic she had and formed it into a sphere of glowing air above her head. All she had to do was launch it at Miasmarda. Even if it missed him, just by being nearby when it exploded, he'd be reduced to bloody mist. However, before she could strike, she sensed imminent death. She turned and used the sphere of wind as a shield, saving her life as Gradius, released from his coffin, attacked her with a blast of black flames with the same intensity he had used to carve through mountains.

The blast washed over her like a flood, with Cynatas holding on for dear life, struggling to remain where she was floating. If she let herself get pushed back and lost balance in the air, her defenses would slip, and she'd get annihilated. She was just barely maintaining her makeshift barrier. A rival emissary, turned into a Profane, was far more powerful than she could hope to be, and even though she was shielded from the brunt of the attack, she was far from safe. She was being cooked alive by the power surging past her, with her hair and skin burning with Profane corruption.

She just barely managed to endure, with the blast eventually fading. Drained of strength and badly burned, her defenses popped like a balloon, and she dropped out of the sky. She wasn't even aware of herself falling. Fortunately, her inborn wind magic made her light as a feather, so while she was plummeting from a great height, her landing was quite soft.

Gradius, seeing his prey falling out of the sky, wrapped in smoke, howled in crazed satisfaction. But it wasn't enough; he wanted more death and carnage, more people to slaughter and reduce to ash. Having been turned into a Profane, he felt like he had finally become what he was supposed to be. For so long, he had fought to resist his madness, to live in civilized society as Tarnas wanted, but that wasn't his true nature.

He was born to be a weapon, born to destroy. He was finally free to kill and burn and give in to his bloodiest desires. True, he still had to obey Ragar, who didn't want him to unleash his full power while surrounded by allies, but that was only for this battle. Soon, he'd be set loose to burn and kill as much as he wanted and drive the people of Vandheim towards Duravound, as was the grand plan.

However, he suddenly felt his thoughts getting cloudy. Having gone so insane that he could no longer speak, it was a given that his thoughts weren't quite clear and coherent, but he felt like his mind was filling with fog. He shook his head and roared, trying to dispel this strange sensation, but it was worming its way into his brain. He then realized the source: music. It was Daniel's nameless song, the one he used during the Red Revelry years ago.

He was carefully approaching, scared out of his wits as he played, but trying to keep his nerve while wading through the sea of undead. Cyrilo and Sophia were doing everything they could to fend off the skeletons, while Alexis used her bow to strike down any fiends that approached. Holy magic seemed to break Ragar's control over the bones for a short while, but unless destroyed, they always pulled themselves back together and got to their feet.

Gradius roared in fury as Daniel's music ate away at his thoughts. He fell to his hands and knees, beating against the side of his head to block it out. Try as he might to summon his magic, the link between his emotions and his mana was being obscured, and he could barely stand. However, that wasn't to say it was easy for Daniel. Unlike the first time he used this song, he didn't have enhancement gems to boost his magic. He had to pour in every drop of mana he had just to try to pacify Gradius, and he had to focus his magic in a linear attack to that his friends wouldn't fall under the effects. Sweat was pouring down his face from the effort, and he wasn't sure how much longer he could hold on.

Finally, they got within a safe distance to prepare for the next part of their plan. Kneeling behind Daniel, Cyrilo pulled out a scroll and ink and began writing out a runic formula. Even if they all combined their mana, the four of them could not power an earth spell that would bury Gradius deep enough, at least not yet. Gradius was standing on the cart that carried his coffin, and if they could get him inside and seal it up and then bury the coffin to a reasonable depth, that would hopefully be enough to trap him. Gradius was snarling and thrashing as he tried to resist the music, and any fiends not pursuing the eagle tribe were closing in, sensing they were up to something.

"Cyrilo, I can't hold them off much longer!" Sophia exclaimed.

She'd tap the skeletons with her hands and send in a burst of holy mana, causing them to collapse like a house of cards. However, they'd only stay down for a minute or so until her mana dissipated from their bones, and with thousands more coming, she couldn't afford to waste the power needed to turn them to ash. Healing magic was not meant to be used as a weapon, even against the Profane, and though Sophia had pushed that boundary through her own ingenuity, in a situation like this, she had reached the limit of what she could do.

Alexis was in the same boat, shooting down winged ghouls one after another with exploding arrows, then lowering her bow and mowing down the skeletons with her Chain Shot spell. Every spell she used took out a chunk of her mana, and she had already consumed two potions just to reach this point. Yet despite the direness of the situation, she couldn't help but switch her gaze over to Gradius.

Her heart still burned with fury from Lucious's death. She'd think of her sword, imagining charging over and beheading the wrathful demon once and for all, but even if she wrapped the blade in mana, she knew it was impossible. His neck was like a tree trunk and protected by his armor, and like Noah said, even if she was able to behead him, it was unlikely all of that explosive power would be extinguished.

"I did it!" Cyrilo exclaimed. She then gathered together all of her remaining mana and placed her hands at the end of the scroll. "Stone Manipulation!"

Tendrils of rock reached up around Gradius and wrapped around him. He thrashed with newfound rage, but Cyrilo refused to give up. More and more tendrils seized him, and with herculean strength, they lifted him off his feet. Cyrilo's nose was bleeding from the effort, but she was so close. She hurled him into his coffin, trying to keep him pinned as he fought to climb out.

"Alexis! Now!" Cyrilo yelled.

Alexis ran up onto the cart and jumped onto Gradius's chest. Through the slits of his misshapen helmet and the layers of mutated tissue that fused with the metal, she thought she saw a glimmer of his eyes, utterly inhuman and limitless in their rage.

"For my friend," she muttered.

She then pulled out two arrows and planted them in Gradius's eyes, driving them deep into his brain until they reached the back of his skull. Gradius continued trying to flail his limbs, but his movements were slow and weak because of the wounds. Alexis then got off him, and with all of her strength, she shut the heavy coffin doors, hearing the mechanism inside latch. She jumped off the cart, joining Daniel as he knocked aside skeletons with a dropped femur. He was protecting Sophia and Cyrilo, who were combining their powers over a page from her grimoire.

"Ravenous Quagmire!" they collectively cast.

The ground beneath the cart began to rumble, with the clay and soil seeming to liquify. It became an earthen maelstrom, with both the cart and Gradius sinking into the ground. They buried him as deep as they could, though not nearly as deep as they wanted. Soon enough, they ran out of strength, and Alexis helped pull them to their feet.

"Come on! We've got to go!"

They ran with desperate strength, aiming for the dwarven tunnel. They had done their job, and now it was time to escape with the others. They left Gradius buried, hoping that would be his grave. Of course, Ragar, far ahead of him, had no idea what had happened to his new weapon. He was sealed within his giant abomination, only aware of his surroundings thanks to his spiritual senses. The undead monster he had created for himself was the size of a cathedral, made entirely of bones and rotting flesh. Its shape was like that of a giant horned frog dragging itself across the ground, its body covered in spikes.

He brought it to a halt as he sensed something approaching, a presence he recognized. Noah was charging towards him through the undead army, with Valia clearing a path for him. Instead of her sword, she was swinging a tree trunk, using it to knock the skeletons out of her way. With her super strength, it might as well have been a roll of parchment. The undead closed in around them, but Valia sent them flying. As they approached Ragar, she cast it aside, jumped high into the air, and unleashed all of her physical strength into a punch straight to the ground, causing the earth to erupt and send the skeletons flying, opening up a battlefield in front of the giant undead golem.

Noah entered the crater and stood beside her. "Nicely done." He then turned to Ragar's amalgamation. "Get out here, Ragar! Do you not even have the courage to meet the enemy leader face to face?!" he challenged.

All around them, the skeletons stopped moving and held their positions. This was a serious gamble that Noah hoped would pay off. The Profane had little to no sense of honor or integrity, but upon being called out, one leader to another, he had to hope that Ragar's ego would compel him to reveal himself, if only briefly. Luck was on his side, as the massive abomination opened its mouth and extended its tongue, made of joined bones, with Ragar standing upon it. The moment he saw him, Noah tried to flash him with the Rune of False. However, it didn't take. Ragar was too far out of range.

"How strange that we keep meeting this way; me standing so high up, and you acting so flippantly below. Geord's throne room, Andromeda's party, and now here."

Noah began to approach, making it seem like he was coming closer just to better hear and be heard. "What's strange is that a dwarf like you keeps desiring to lift himself off the ground and tower above all others. Were you bullied for your heart and suffered deep emotional scars? Or did the Profane simply destroy your love of earth?"

"We Profane stand at the pinnacle of all races, the peak of existence. How is it strange that I would stand above you?"

"Deep down, you must realize that even with all of your power, your greatest wish will never come true. You can summon the undead, but you can't bring your daughters back to life."

Ragar scowled in fury. "Don't you dare talk about them! Every choice I make is born from a father's love! I am trying to create a new world for them!"

"I've raised over a hundred kids and sired thousands more, but unlike you, when my children died, I buried them properly. I know what it feels like to stand over those tiny caskets, but I accepted the pain and endured it. That's how I know that what you're doing is tragic and insane. You could not bear the loss, so you turned to madness and embraced the evil of the Profane. If your daughters could see you now, see what you'd become, what do you think they'd say?"

"They would understand. I would make them understand."

"How, by turning them? You'd drain their blood and corrupt them with your venom? You'd rob them of their free will and turn them into soulless monsters that feed on others? Imagine how they'd scream from the pain. Imagine the confusion and betrayal they'd feel when their own father preyed upon them like a ravenous wolf. If you saw your own monstrous face in the reflection of their terrified eyes, would that stay your hand? Or would you ignore your tears to fulfill your own selfish desires? What would your wife say if she saw what you'd do to them?"

"I would be fulfilling a father's role! Doing a father's duty! Giving my daughters the strength to thrive in this cruel reality! We are the future of this world! You refused our offer to join us, so you could never know the bliss and glory of the Profane!"

"I think you're lucky that they're dead, because you never have to hear them condemn you for everything you've done. You can just keep controlling them like they're your little puppets, never having to worry about them growing up and leaving you behind, never having to bear the pain of them looking at you in disgust and fleeing from you in terror. You say you're the future, but how can you be when you're unable to let go of the past?"

"Enough! Die and join my legion!" Ragar roared in fury, with his giant corpse raising its arm to pulverize him. However, Noah was now in range, and when Ragar looked into his eyes and saw the Rune of False, he was left dizzy as it spread through his mind like a virus.

"False World," Noah then cast, painting over the world around them. However, this new scenery looked much like the old one, but the flattened forest had been replaced with grassland, and while the sky overhead was still choked with dark clouds, these new ones rumbled with thunder and began to unleash their rain.

"What? What is this?" Ragar asked as he felt the cold drops hit his face. Standing behind Noah, Valia could not feel the rain since she had not looked into his eyes, but she could smell it clearly, along with the summer wind and the scent of grass.

"A painful memory," Noah replied.

There was a blinding flash of light and a deafening thunderclap as a bolt of lightning struck Ragar. He felt hundreds of millions of volts of electricity surge through his body, frying him on the inside and out. Though the damage was fake, the pain was real, and his body shut down from the sensations. Noah released his magic as Ragar's giant monstrosity fell apart, with every skeleton in the valley likewise collapsing as his magic came undone and he passed out.

"Damn it, you could have warned me that was the illusion you were going to use!" Valia shouted, her voice projecting her anger, pain, and loss of hearing. "I was staring right at him! I can't see anything, you bastard!"

"Sorry. I thought I applied enough mana to protect you," he replied, but the way she rubbed her ears showed that she didn't hear anything.

When Noah cast False World, even without using the Rune of False, he could attack the sight, sound, and smell receptors of anyone inside, just like when he used flashbangs or animal summons. Eye contact with the Rune of False was required for him to inflict more physical pain, but while Valia could not be hurt the same way Ragar was, she still suffered the sensory repercussions of being that close to a lightning strike. He turned to her and held out his hand. The reason why her hearing and eyesight were lost was that his mana was still clinging to her, stuck to her eyes and ears, but he drew it away from her and removed the lingering effects.

Valia sighed in relief as the pain disappeared. "That's much better. Now we can-- Noah, watch out!"

Noah turned around just in time to be snatched up by Tysinger's flying mount and carried off. Valia used all of her strength to jump up as high as she could to try to reach him, but he was beyond her reach.

"Wandering Spirit, let's go somewhere a little more private," said Tysinger.

Though he could not swing his sword or move while caught in the Profane bird's talons, Noah could still use his magic. It would be easy to bring the bird down with another illusion, but considering how high up he was, being released was not the best idea. He had tried using his anti-falling measures at Lumestada, and still ended up with broken bones. Knowing Tysinger, he wanted to face Noah in a one-on-one duel. Meaning his best chance of survival was to wait until he was properly lowered to the ground. As Noah was carried away, Valia turned back to Ragar, seeing him back on his feet, albeit in a great deal of pain. He glared at her with burning eyes, while around him, all of his skeletons and undead amalgamations reformed themselves.

"Well, if Tysinger doesn't kill the Wandering Spirit, I guess I'll just seize your corpse and make you do it."

"I'm not as easy to kill as you may think," Valia countered as she drew her sword.

She glowed with a silver aura as her mana began to flare and surge. Her mind was not on the foe before her in the present, but one from the past, remembering her battle against Scyler. Specifically, she remembered how she wielded her power while it was imbued with Profane energy, and the sensations of her mana as she unleashed it. So much power had swept through her, unable to be contained and bursting free in a way her natural strength never could. Though she no longer had that unholy wellspring of power, her body still remembered what it felt like to be in that state, and how to make her mana flow that way again.

She hated the time she spent in her poisoned condition, even hesitating to utilize those memories for this fight, but it had taught her how to get stronger, something she desperately needed. It wasn't the volume of her strength that was holding her back, but the way she released it. If she wanted to defeat Ragar, she couldn't fight at the same level she was back at the mansion.

Valia sprinted towards Ragar, who sealed himself back up inside his undead golem. The behemoth raised one of its mighty arms and swung down like a hammer, but Valia dodged the crushing blow, not even dirtying her clothes with the resulting cloud of dust and dirt. She jumped and ran up its arm, but the spikes across its body reacted and began shooting at her like thrown spears. With her steel body enhancement and augmented speed, she dodged, deflected, and endured the barrage of quills, reaching the head.

"Zodiac: Baol! Rakshon!"

A billowing torrent of silver mana wrapped around her blade, raised high above her head, which she brought down with all of the force her body could muster. She carved through the head of the golem, splitting it open and exposing the interior. She and Ragar made eye contact, with the ghoul scowling and swinging his arm. Valia turned and rolled across the surface of the golem, narrowly dodging a punch from a second amalgamation. This smaller golem was shaped like a human, but was composed of over a hundred skeletons, and it pursued her with hammering fists and rapid movements.

She was forced off the back of the skeletal frog, only to find herself facing a colossal spider. It swung at her with its serrated legs, and though she managed to slice all that came near, she was not causing actual harm to the undead puppet. From above, a fourth golem attacked, nearly crushing her with its landing. This one was shaped like a wyvern, with wing membranes made of rotting flesh. Valia rolled to the side to avoid its landing and sliced its head off.

"Zodiac: Udan!"

With super speed, she zoomed around the frog golem, but all around her, all of the skeletons that Ragar brought with him were fusing together into humongous monstrosities. A colossal serpent struck the ground with its tail, knocking her skyward as the earth erupted from the impact. In midair, she narrowly dodged the talons of another wyvern golem, this one made from the skeleton of a genuine wyvern. A massive wolf, its teeth made from the jagged ribs of human skeletons, pounced on her as she fell. She raised her sword and sliced the puppet in half straight down the middle.

She landed on the ground and tried to turn her attention back to the frog golem with Ragar inside, but the humanoid golem then attacked once more. She was forced onto defense as it pursued her with relentless intensity, swinging its arms as though carrying a personal grudge. She dismembered it with her blade, used its head as a jump point, and launched herself towards the frog golem.

"Zodiac: Pravek! Avagath!"

This time, instead of a slicing attack, she attempted a thrust, enhanced with her super strength, while using Avagath to find Ragar's location. She stabbed the frog golem under the chin and released her mana in a penetrating blast, drilling a hole straight through the undead mass that grazed Ragar and carved away a considerable chunk of his arm. He snarled in pain and swung his other arm.

"Death Shatter!"

The frog opened its mouth and vomited a flood of human skulls, each one exploding upon hitting the ground and spraying bone shrapnel in all directions. Valia was forced to retreat, back-flipping out of the range of the jagged shards, only to be beset upon by a pack of the wolf-type golems.

"Noah, I hope you're having an easier time than I am," she muttered to herself.

Noah had just been delivered to a raised plateau at the edge of a cliff overlooking the valley. Though her wasn't sure, it appeared to be the mountain with the dwarven tunnel. Tysinger jumped off the back of his mount and, without saying a word to Noah, plunged his sword into the ground.

"Warrior's Arena!" he cast. Dark mana surged from his blade and into the mountain, turning the area into Cursed Earth. Unlike with regular Cursed Earth, Noah did not feel his strength and stamina being drained, but he could not activate his magic, and his ring wasn't working either. Finally, Tysinger turned to him. "We are tied at one win for each of us. Today is the day we decide who the ultimate swordsman is."

"You can hardly call this a deciding battle when you have the homefield advantage, and my fighting capabilities are sabotaged."

"This Cursed Earth is special, affecting us both. Neither you nor I can use magic, hence the name. This battle can only be won by strength and skill with the blade. Can you, a human, best a Profane swordsman like me in such a contest? Can your mastery and strength of will overcome the power that my path has given me? That is what we are here to find out."

"Tysinger, I couldn't care less which of us is the better swordsman, and I have neither the time nor interest in coddling your insecurities. This back and forth between us is simply the result of your ego. It's nothing more than a child's game. My sense of warrior pride crumbled into dust ages ago. I surpassed you long before you were even born, and now I'm simply a shadow of my former self, so whatever sense of accomplishment you hope to get out of this, I assure you, it's completely hollow."

"You say that like you have any choice in the matter. Like it or not, this is a fight to the death. So what if I am driven by ego? The greatest warriors are, for that is what propels us beyond our limits and allows us to reach heights that were once thought impossible. You say you surpassed me long ago and lost that strength. Well, if you're to have any hope of surviving this and saving your friends, you'd better dig deep and get it back, because I'm coming at you with everything I have."

Noah sighed and discarded both his hat and his coat, trusting in the protection of his elven shirt. When he faced Tysinger in Uther, he'd done it without his hat then as well, but he had been fatigued from all of the rushed traveling and battles. This time, he was at full strength. He drew his sword and assumed a stance.

"Let's get this over with."

"This doesn't end until one of our corpses is thrown off this cliff!"

Both Noah and Tysinger charged towards each other, and their blades met. Noah tried to kick Tysinger in the ribs, but he disengaged and jumped back, then closed in with a downward slash that Noah parried away. Noah shot forward for a stab, narrowly missing Tysinger as he stepped to the side and countered with a slash, but Noah grabbed the blade of his sword and raised the handle, using the guard to intercept the attack.

Tysinger was superior in terms of physical strength, so Noah didn't try to block him. Instead, he let Tysinger push his sword aside and used the momentum to spin around for another attack. Tysinger blocked, and Noah went on the offensive, continuing to use his half-swording technique just as he had with Valia back at the academy.

Every time Tysinger tried to slash at him, Noah would use his hold on his sword to parry and redirect, then close in for a stab, managing to inflict a shallow stab to Tysinger's chest. It was merely a flesh wound, not even reaching the lung, but the angel blood on Noah's blade left the wound unable to heal and made Tysinger hiss in pain. His ego was more wounded than he was, and Tysinger unleashed a storm of attacks on Noah, with Noah matching him blow for blow.

Every slash, thrust, and hack canceled each other out, with their blades colliding multiple times a second and sending out showers of black and white sparks. Though his magic was bound, Tysinger's mana was still reacting to the fight and running along the blade, causing it to react to the angel blood on Noah's sword.

Without his hat restricting his movements, Noah was able to keep up with Tysinger, shocking the Profane warrior. In their second fight, he had worn his paladin cloak to match Tysinger's ghoul abilities, but now he was doing it with nothing but his natural strength. Though not as physically powerful as Tysinger, Noah was now equally fast, and the difference in their skill was playing a greater and greater role.

Tysinger jumped back and then forward for a piercing strike. Noah parried the lunge, at least partially, and received a cut across his shoulder, but he didn't even flinch from the pain and slashed Tysinger across the chest. Tysinger stepped back at the last moment, avoiding a fatal wound, but he still bled from the slash. Gritting through the pain, he brought down his sword and managed to cut Noah's leg. Like Tysinger, Noah pulled back at the last second to lessen the damage, then spun around and kicked Tysinger. Tysinger was knocked back, and Noah pursued him, not giving him a chance to regain his balance. He hammered Tysinger's defenses with relentless slashes, forcing Tysinger to jump as high as he could over Noah.

Landing behind him, Tysinger went in for a stab. Noah spun around but was unable to avoid it, and Tysinger's sword pierced his forearm and drove through, but before it could reach his shoulder, Noah changed its direction so that it instead passed under his arm, and he held it there. Noah then reversed the grip on his own sword and delivered an uppercut slash across Tysinger's chest. This time, the wound went deep, and Noah added to it by stabbing Tysinger near the collarbone and driving his sword through his chest. The two foes glared at each other, each pouring blood and trying to remain stoic in the face of their pain.

"Satisfied, Tysinger? Is this the glorious battle that you dreamed of?"

"Of course. What value is victory if you don't have to bleed for it?!"

The two of them separated, wrenching out their swords and opening some distance from each other. Tysinger tried to cover his wounds and slow the bleeding. His healing wasn't working correctly due to Noah's holy blade, but he still had superhuman endurance, and if he could just defeat Noah, then his wounds would be able to heal. Meanwhile, Noah pulled some bandages out of his pocket and wrapped his arm. Like Tysinger, he could only slow the bleeding, and the strength in his arm had now been halved.

"All your skill and strength, and you choose to waste it while living in a human vessel," Tysinger muttered.

"I've experienced life in countless vessels, not all of them entirely human. Each life was just as pointless as the one before and the one after. There is nothing you can say that will make me join the Profane."

"Think of what you could accomplish!"

"And what have you accomplished, Tysinger? What do you have to show for all of your strength? You haven't built anything, haven't changed the world, or even gained any kind of fame or notoriety. Ever since you were turned, all you've done is carve a path of blood and death, searching for someone stronger than you so you could pass your venom off to them.

Face it, you've spent your time as a Profane just looking for a good way to die. Take it from me, as someone who has spent ages doing the same. The wars I've fought, the struggles I've joined, the enemies I've faced--fighters, governments, alien invasions, all in search of a worthy adversary to make me feel alive, and a good death to make me feel like I had actually done something. I told you once that I was never like you, but there have been points when you've been like me. The difference is that I know my reasons were pathetic and selfish.

You've accomplished nothing in your life, and your only hope is that by finding a successor, THEY'LL actually achieve something meaningful. You went from being a warrior to being nothing more than a courier for that venom in your brain, just looking for the next person to hand it over to because you can't bear the responsibility any longer."

"I am on the path to create the ultimate warrior, just like my predecessor and his before him! With each generation that this venom is passed on to, an even greater warrior is created! I am proud to be a part of this mission, this quest for perfection! I have culled the unworthy while seeking the warrior who can surpass me and fulfill even greater potential than I did! You could be a part of this!"

"I'm sick and tired of being a part of things, Tysinger. They all lead to the same place: nowhere. You're going to die here, and you and your predecessors' quest will have been for nothing, just as it always has been. I'll take your venom, but only so that I can use it to create a weapon to help me drive the Profane race to extinction. That will be your grand contribution, and the legacy you have achieved."

"If you won't join us, then your only value is as a challenge to me. You're just another bump in the road. You're an obstacle for me to overcome so that my powers will grow even further. I'll just have to wait until I can find another warrior suitable for my venom. One hundred years, two hundred, whatever it takes to find my successor. I'll toast to their future success over your blood."

"If you want my blood, come and get it."

The two fighters raised their swords and clashed once more. While Noah was holding his own against Tysinger, Roc was struggling to stay alive in his fight with Umbra. He was trying to use his earlier experience to adapt to Umbra's technique, but the fiend's speed, strength, and skill were superior to his in every way. He pushed his wings to their limit, trying to outrace Umbra and stay beyond his reach, only closing the distance to attack, but it was a fool's errand.

He remembered Cyrilo telling him to use his brains when brawn failed, but that wasn't exactly his strong suit. If Noah were in this situation instead, how would he win? As Roc pondered this question and looked at Umbra and his pointed ears, an idea began to take shape. He allowed Umbra to catch up to him and attacked, but it was only a feint to catch the fiend's attention. He got in as close as he could, took a deep breath, and screamed at the top of his lungs into Umbra's ear. Umbra seized up in pain as his augmented hearing was his undoing.

"Cyclone Impact!" Roc cast.

In that moment of distraction, Roc spun through the air to build up momentum and unleashed his strongest possible kick to the side of Umbra's head, cracking his neck and skull. Umbra was knocked out of the sky, but Roc wasn't going to let this opportunity slip through his fingers. He pursued Umbra in midair and hammered him with as many attacks as he could, with his arm and legs burning with mana. Umbra was slammed into the ground, and Roc plummeted towards him with his leg extended.

"Decisive Dive bomb!"

However, before he could connect, Umbra reached up and caught Roc's foot, withstanding the entire force of Roc's attack without even bending his arm. With a frustrated snarl, Umbra stood up and slammed Roc against the ground twice and then threw him aside. Roc, barely retaining his consciousness after the two impacts, gained control of his momentum and took flight once more. His scream had worked well, but now Umbra would be protective of his ears. However, there was something else he could use to attack the fiend's senses.

He flew through the valley, soaring over the undead legions and flattened trees. Though the landscape had changed, he knew this valley like the back of his hand and the bounties if offered. He reached the creek where he used to play as a child and looked around, spotting the mushrooms he was looking for. He had only moments to spare, as Umbra was quick to arrive, but Roc crushed the mushrooms in his grip and threw them, hitting Umbra in the face. Immediately, a foul stench filled the air, causing Umbra to lose his posture and somersault midflight, sending him rolling and splashing through the water like a skipped stone.

For members of the eagle tribe, there were few childhood memories worse than getting sick and being forced to drink the medicine the elders made with those mushrooms. Their stench was unbearable, and the taste was even worse. Roc once fell ill and ran away from home, choosing to hide out in the woods rather than consume the wretched medicine. It was honestly easier just to sleep in the mud and get rained on while suffering from a fever and other symptoms. Now, Umbra was being subjected to their horrific aroma and flavor.

Once again, Roc used this opportunity for all that it was worth and assaulted Umbra with everything he had. He broke bones with his Cyclone Impact kicks and slashed through flesh and muscle with his Guillotine Beak. Umbra did his best to block and avoid, but his sense of hearing was still discombobulated by Roc's scream, and the shredded mushrooms in his mouth and nose were agony.

In a desperate act, he allowed Roc to land a critical kick and knock him into the water, but it was all a ruse, allowing him to soak his face and wash away enough of the mushroom remnants to enable him to fight once more. Roc leaned in to try to finish him off, but just like before, Umbra reached out and caught him, then threw him aside. Umbra got to his feet, his wounds healing, and cricked his neck.

"Don't expect those little tricks of yours to work again."

He then tackled Roc, sending them rolling through the woods, exchanging blows, but once again, Roc was desperately trying to hang on and survive. Umbra hammered him with punches and kicks, threatening to turn his skeleton to gravel, while his claws tore through Roc's flesh and soaked the forest floor with his blood. Roc was finally slammed against a tree with Umbra's hand around his throat.

"You put up a decent fight, boy, but now it's over."

He was about to deliver the killing blow, but was forced to release Roc and jump back, narrowly avoiding a hammer swing by Seraph. The prince got between them, tossing a healing potion to Roc before going on the offensive.

"Searing Radiance!" Seraph cast, launching a blast of holy light at Umbra.

"Night Mantle!" the fiend countered, wrapping himself in an aura of darkness that protected him from the blast.

Seraph looked back at Shannon and Foley, leading the eagle tribe towards the dwarven pass. "Keep going!" During the brief moment, Umbra lunged for Seraph, but this time, Roc intervened, knocking him back with a kick. Standing beside Seraph, he downed the potion and gasped for air as his body mended itself.

"Holy magic doesn't work on this guy," he panted, "but he's not fond of loud noises."

"We just have to keep beating him until he doesn't have the strength to defend himself. Come on, this is exactly what Noah was preparing us for."

"Right, let's go."

"Two warriors now," said Umbra. "It looks like I can hopefully take off the kid gloves."

Roc and Seraph charged towards Umbra, with Roc taking the lead. He was the first to reach the fiend, but instead of attacking, he simply flapped his wings, blasting Umbra with a gust of air. Though not as potent as his earlier attacks on the senses, the pressure wave affected Umbra's sense of hearing and smell and made him flinch. In that moment, Seraph came out from behind him and swung his hammer. Umbra blocked the swing with his forearm, gritting through the pain, and in that moment, Roc kicked him in the chest, knocking him back.

Seraph jumped into the air and brought down his hammer towards Umbra, but Umbra grabbed the head and delivered a spinning kick that sent Seraph flying. Roc zoomed past Umbra, unleashing a spinning kick of his own, with his talons slashing Umbra's leg. He slid through the creek, sending water spraying in all directions, then went back for another attack, but Umbra dodged and punched him in the stomach, knocking him off his feet.

Umbra staggered as Seraph threw his hammer, striking the fiend in the back of the head, then ran over and jumped into the air, kicking Umbra in the back with both feet. Umbra fell to the ground, with Seraph grabbing his hammer and raising it high for a direct hit. Umbra rolled to the side to avoid, while at the same time, he lashed out with his wing and used it like a blade, slashing Seraph across the stomach. Before Umbra could get back on his feet, Roc slammed his knee into his face. Umbra was knocked back, using the force to stand himself up, then countered with a punch to the top of Roc's head that made him faceplant into the ground.

Umbra reached down and grabbed Roc, then threw him at Seraph, trying to attack. Seraph caught Roc, dropping his hammer in the process, and Umbra delivered a kick to the side that knocked them both off their feet and they splashed into the creek. Thanks to his healing powers, Seraph was back on his feet first. Umbra was still wrapped in his protective shroud, but that didn't stop Seraph from firing a beam of holy energy that washed over him.

Umbra was physically superior, but in terms of mana, Seraph surely had him beat, so if he could outlast him in a battle of attrition, they could win. However, Umbra, unbothered by the blast, rushed forward and grabbed Seraph by the throat, slamming him into a tree the way he had done to Roc earlier, about to kill him.

Before his claws could tear into Seraph, Roc swooped in from behind. Instead of a punch or kick, he grabbed Umbra's wings with his talons, almost perching himself on his back. He flapped his own wings, forcing Umbra to release Seraph and pulling him back. Umbra staggered, struggling to remain on his feet with Roc pulling him in every direction. Try as he might, he could not reach back to grab Roc, and the more he swung around and tried to shake Roc off, the more his weight threw him off balance.

With Umbra distracted, Seraph retrieved his hammer and pounced, delivering a strike to the side of Umbra's head that almost rang like a church bell. Umbra staggered, his brain trying to catch up with the damage it had sustained, but Seraph wasn't done. An uppercut swing connected his hammer with Umbra's chin, knocking him off his feet and sending Umbra's brain once more rattling around his shattered skull. Seraph completed his barrage with a strike straight to the center of Umbra's ribcage, shattering every bone and making the fiend vomit a huge splash of blood.

Gritting through the pain and forcing his mind into coherence, Umbra howled in fury and determination, reaching out and grabbing Seraph's hammer before he could land a fourth blow, then punching him hard enough to force him to let go. Umbra turned and threw the hammer as far into the distance as he could. Then with all of the strength in his unholy body, he overpowered Roc's hold on his wings and flapped them as hard as he could, launching himself straight up. Roc tried to hold on and stop his ascent, but Umbra continued to rise, pulling Roc up into the poison gas cloud.

Having lost his gas mask, Roc was fully exposed to the toxic fumes, and his grip on Umbra was released. He began to fall, dropping out of the cloud towards the valley below, but Umbra caught up with him and grabbed his arm, gripping with the same intensity so that he could hammer Roc with blows. Roc used his legs to try to block and counter Umbra's attacks, but he was being completely overwhelmed.

Watching from down below, there was nothing Seraph could do. If it wasn't for that Night Mantle, he could at least provide long-range support by blasting Umbra with holy attacks, but as it was, he was totally useless. It reminded him of chasing that assassin in Duravound, all of the time he had wasted going after one small fry, while Cynatas, a fellow emissary, put him to shame because she understood her powers better than he understood his. That was his problem; he was only scratching the surface of what he could do. Even after everything he went through to get his powers back, he had yet to tap into his full potential. It was more than just blasts and heavy blows for melee. There was so much more just waiting to be unlocked.

There was only one way to win this fight and save Roc. It was something that Seraph had practiced several times in secret, but never managed to achieve. However, if there was ever a time that he needed it to work, it was now. He stared at Roc and Umbra, studied how they moved through the sky, and manipulated the air with their wings. He also thought back to Tarnas and his fight with Scyler, how he shot across the sky like a stream of light while raining death upon the Profane.

That was the height he needed to reach. If he was ever going to get as strong as Tarnas, then he had to fight like him. Seraph gathered all of his magic power, setting himself alight with a roaring torrent of holy energy. But that wasn't what he needed. He needed the light to condense and solidify, to seize the world itself like a mighty hand and pull him up.

Up in the sky, Roc was barely enduring Umbra's onslaught. He felt like his shoulder was going to dislocate from being swung around by his arm, and the bones in his legs were aching from being used to block so many hits. He didn't know how much longer he could survive, but when desperation set in, there was a flash of light, and Umbra let him go. Roc looked up, seeing Seraph shooting around with wings of light.

"You can't be serious," Umbra muttered.

Seraph turned around with some difficulty, far from adept at flying, and rocketed towards Umbra, tackling him in midair. Upon catching his breath, Roc went after them, and with Umbra dealing with Seraph, he could do nothing as Roc attacked from above and brought down his leg with devastating force upon his shoulder. Umbra was left disoriented from the attack, and Seraph's fist connected with his jaw, sending him flying. They gave him no chance to rest, Roc and Seraph shooting off after Umbra and attacking him with everything they had.

They rained punches and kicks upon the fiend, working in perfect tandem, having practiced their coordination when sparring with Noah. Umbra blocked, deflected, and countered as many blows as he could, but he was being overwhelmed and hammered from all angles. Finally, both Seraph and Roc combined their strength and struck him with two simultaneous punches, sending Umbra shooting across the sky. His body was beaten and battered, but he still managed to halt his trajectory and float in the air. His wounds were healing, albeit slower than before, yet he still laughed.

"I really ought to thank the two of you. This is exactly what I wanted: a fight to push me to my absolute limits and let me fully utilize all of my new strength. You have my heartfelt gratitude for that. However, it is time for me to give you both a warrior's death, fitting of your strength. I mentioned before that I was Lord Curcio's masterpiece because of my darkness magic, but that was only half-true. The reason why I unlocked that magic was that I was part of a different program from the other fiends." As Umbra spoke, the darkness around him churned and flared, with both Seraph and Roc feeling uneasy as they sensed his magic power growing at a terrifying rate.

"Early on, Lord Curcio experimented with chimerism, combining the traits of different creatures into one being, using Profane power as the bridge. His attempts always ended in disaster, producing malformed abominations that couldn't be controlled and suffered from short lifespans. He mostly gave up on the concept, focusing instead on developing his parasites, but still kept the program going on a small scale, returning to it from time to time, searching for the key to make it work. I was one of his few successes because I was able to bond with something no other subject could. It was just a fragment of bone, thousands of years old, but the power it gave me almost put me on the same level as Scyler. Let me show you."

A physical transformation then swept through Umbra, with portions of the black fur covering his body giving way to reveal hardened scales. His claws grew longer on his hands and feet, with his cheeks splitting as his jaws changed shape. A pair of horns grew out of the top of his head, and a spike-lined tail extended from his lower back. As his body transformed, dark energy was radiating from him with monstrous intensity, nearly forcing Roc and Seraph out of the sky.

"Seraph, are you feeling that?"

"I can fucking taste it. The bastard has dragon powers," Seraph cursed.

Umbra floated before them and stretched. "Now then, I expect you two to fight with everything you have. I went to all the trouble of revealing the peak of my strength, and I'll be terribly angry if it ended up just being a waste of effort."

As Roc and Seraph faced this new threat, Noah was still dealing with an old one. Over and over again, he and Tysinger locked blades, with the ground around them soaked in each other's spilled blood. Their strength was waning, and their bodies were racked with injuries, yet they kept moving faster, swinging harder, and maneuvering better. The longer they fought, the better their skills became, like knives sharpening each other.

Though Noah had initially dismissed Tysinger's romanticism of combat, he couldn't help but feel himself becoming invested. The warrior pride within him, what he thought of as merely cold ashes in his heart, was beginning to be rekindled. This was no longer simply about winning to go help the others or surviving the foe before him. He wanted victory. He lacked the ultimate war god body he once had, as well as other modified forms he had achieved throughout the multiverse in search of ultimate strength, but still wanted to have the power to win.

With all of his training and battle experience across the millennia, he wanted to believe that there was a strength inside him that went beyond the flesh, a strength great enough to overcome the Profane swordsman. His master of the blade, his mastery over death; after everything that he had endured, he wanted them to be great enough to get what he wanted.

He was more than just the vessel he inhabited. He was more than the muscles and physicality he had honed in this one lifetime. He was more than just his knowledge and wisdom. He was more than just the name Noah, given to him by the last parents he happened to be born to. He was the Wandering Spirit, the destroyer and savior of worlds, bringing forth and averting greater annihilations than this one enemy could possibly conjure.

Tysinger was similarly driven. He was so close to achieving it, the absolute peak of his strength as a swordsman. He had to know what it was like to reach his summit, to know everything that his body and power could do. All of his own training, his own battle experience, his focused will and Profane strength, all combined like a math equation, and he had to know what value sat on the other end of the equal sign.

He analyzed Noah with obsessive scrutiny, seeing his building fatigue and accumulating damage, and though an average warrior would celebrate the wearing down of an opponent, Tysinger hated it. If Noah slowed down and weakened, if he lessened the effort that Tysinger needed to defeat him, then he would never reach his peak. He needed Noah to push him to the absolute limit, so that he could finally know what that limit was, what everything in his life had led him to. Every iota of strength, every spark of mental focus, every ounce of potential, he needed Noah to force him to use it all.

But, of course, this battle was greater than their own desires. Whoever won would be able to rejoin the real battle below. If Noah won, he'd be free to go after Ragar and Miasmarda, to help defeat Umbra and ensure Gradius remained sealed. If Tysinger won, he could go and protect his allies and rob Uther of the Sword Goddess and Light's Emissary. Furthermore, the results of this battle would reverberate throughout the entire war, shaping the future. Here they were, two men dueling atop a mountain, and every time their swords met, the fate of the world was up for grabs, as if being decided with a coin flip.

Finally, the two of them were forced to stop and separate to catch their breath. Both had numerous open wounds that left their clothes soaked with blood. Had Tysinger received these injuries from a normal blade, he could have shrugged them off and kept fighting without rest, but with Noah's holy sword, they drained both blood and his stamina. It felt like the more wounds he received, the closer he got to being human again.

"Tell me, Tysinger, was it all worth it?" Noah panted.

"You still have to ask?" he replied.

No more words were said. The two men stood up straight and raised their blades once more, but they knew this would be the end. The one last clash would decide everything. After a sharp breath, they both charged towards each other. Noah delivered a one-handed slash from below, but Tysinger saw it coming and paused for half a step, letting it rush past his face, then swung down his own blade, slicing off Noah's hand and sending it and his sword flying over his shoulder. However, this was all according to Noah's plan. Before Tysinger's sword could reach his face, he ducked and rolled past him, grabbed his own sword and severed hand out of the air, and brought the blade down upon Tysinger's shoulder in a diagonal slash, carving him in two.

The bifurcated halves of Tysinger's body hit the ground, yet to his credit, he did not let go of his sword. Bleeding out and down to only one lung, Tysinger gave a pained cough, which then became a laugh.

"Letting me slice your hand off so you could deliver a killing blow... Magnificent. With this, my mission ends in failure. I have no successor to pass on my venom to create the perfect warrior, but I meet my end in a perfect death at the end of a perfect battle. Hopefully, my predecessors will look upon this with envy, rather than disappointment."

Noah took a deep breath and shared Tysinger's laugh. "Indeed. That was a spectacular battle. Well done, Tysinger."

The Profane swordsman gave another pained chuckle. "The highest praise I could have received. Thank you, Noah."

Tysinger closed his eyes and released his final breath. Noah could feel the Cursed Earth beneath his feet coming undone as Tysinger's mana vanished like a wisp of smoke. He then conjured a healing potion, glad that it wasn't his ring hand he had sacrificed, pulled out the cork, and held the stem in his teeth. He pressed his severed hand to the bleeding stump of his wrist and then drank the potion. His hand was partially reattached, and his wounds somewhat healed, but that only meant he needed another potion.

Once he was fully healed, he retrieved his coat and hat and crouched down beside Tysinger's corpse. He stabbed the fallen warrior through the eye with a syringe, piercing his venom gland and harvesting every drop. He then examined Tysinger's sword, the trophy for his victory. It was crafted from some kind of alloy or forging technique he didn't recognize, making the blade remarkably light, but so strong that he couldn't find a single chip, crack, or imperfection. Tysinger had wielded it so long and imbued it with so much mana that it was like a part of his body, and once Noah inscribed it with an Anti-Profane formula using his venom, it would be equal to, if not greater than, the blades he made from Carthace's remains.

As he sealed the sword and venom in his ring, an explosion of dark flames erupted not far away. Noah muttered a curse as Gradius, unearthed from his premature burial by the fiends in Ragar's employ, rewarded his saviors by disintegrating them in a fury-filled eruption of power. He then howled in rage and unleashed a black beam like the one he had used back at the mansion, seemingly firing with no target in particular.

The blast whipped across the mountains surrounding the valley, slicing through them and separating the summits from their bases. As a series of sky-shaking mushroom clouds erupted in the background, the severed mountain summits crashed down and shattered atop their bases, turning into titanic rockslides that slid into the valley below. Noah swore as the ground beneath his feet fell away and dropped him into a cloud of dust and rubble.

Down below, Shannon and Foley had led the eagle tribe to the dwarven tunnel. Alexis, Sophia, Cyrilo, and Daniel had met up with them, with Cynatas being carried on Daniel's back. The tunnel was right in front of them, but before they could get in, the mountainside slid down like an avalanche of stone. The eagle tribe quickly took flight, taking everyone with them up into the air to escape the coming wall of destruction. Once everything was still, they descended, hoping against hope that the tunnel might still be open to them, but it was buried. Then Shannon spotted Noah's arm in the rubble and felt her heart drop.

"My Lord!" she shrieked.

Shannon rushed over, climbing through the rubble to reach him and dig him out. Noah was alive, but he was spitting up blood and had broken bones and internal bleeding throughout his body.

"My Lord," Shannon tearfully murmured, cupping his cheeks.

"This... this is what it was like after that earthquake I told you about," he replied, struggling to breathe.

"So, this is where you rats with wings ended up." Everyone looked up to see Umbra floating overhead. In his hands, he gripped Seraph and Roc by the ankles, the two of them broken and bloody. "These two weren't quite as strong as I had hoped, but I figured I'd be kind and let them die with all of their friends." He tossed Seraph and Roc, who were caught by members of the eagle tribe before they suffered a fatal landing. They were both alive and partially conscious, but in the same condition as Noah. Umbra sniffed the air and smiled. "And the Wandering Spirit is here too. I can smell Tysinger's blood on you. Well done in your victory. I would have loved to fight you myself under different circumstances, but we can't all get what we want." Umbra then turned his head. "Oi! Get over here!"

There was a snarl in the distance, and rumbling like thunder as Gradius rushed to the scene. Despite his bulk and weight, he moved like a bullet train, sending boulders flying as he knocked them aside. He arrived, dropping down on all fours and snarling like a rabid animal.

"Finish them off," Umbra said.

Gradius roared and began charging up a blast. Everyone looked at each other, desperately hoping someone had an answer, but there was nothing they could do. No one was strong enough to fight Gradius, and even if Daniel managed to briefly pacify him, Umbra would immediately intervene and kill him. Both Amor and Alexis glared at Umbra, trying to gather the courage to attack, but they knew deep in their hearts that there was nothing they could do to hurt him.

It would take too long for a potion to heal Noah, though perhaps Valia could do something, but she was still busy fighting Ragar in the distance. They were cornered with no hope and no chance. Shannon kept her eyes on Noah, wanting to spend her final moments looking at him. Roc, struggling to stay conscious, gazed at Cynatas in the same way. Was this really how everything was going to end?

Then, just as Gradius released the blast, Foley ran forward and held up his shield. "Steel Rampart!"

He projected a wall of mana, and the beam of black flames crashed against it. Everyone had held their breath, expecting instant oblivion, but against all odds, Foley held on. Gradius's power was washing over the barrier like a tidal wave, trying to rush by from all angles, but the more it spread, the more it revealed the vastness of Foley's spell. It encompassed the group like a colossal dome, with everyone able to see the black flames surging across its surface overhead. When the towering stone mountains around them had been broken and shattered by Gradius's fury, the world's smallest remained standing and endured.

No one could speak, left in total awe by the sight before them. How Foley could defy Gradius, no one could say. Even Noah was at a loss for words as he watched the dwarf stand up to the Profane juggernaut. Seraph gazed with wide eyes, reminded of when he and Foley had sparred at the academy. He knew what it was like to face that impenetrable barrier, to throw everything he had at that stubborn little dwarf and have it splash off like water on rock. The shield in his hand was perhaps the strongest in the world, but not as strong as the will of the one who carried it.

Yet Gradius's unholy power could not be so easily held back. The shield began to burn and disintegrate around the edges as the Profane fire ate away at it. The five men who crafted it were experts in their field, but not even they could have prepared a shield to endure this. However, despite his shield beginning to burn away, Foley didn't take a step back or drop to one knee. Instead, he began to move forward, pushing with everything he had towards Gradius. With each step he took, the shield broke apart more and more, but he kept casting his spell over and over again, stacking magical barrier upon barrier.

Gradius howled in frustration and increased the output, and finally, the shield shattered, but still, Foley maintained the barrier, holding only the jewel in his burning hand. He kept forcing himself forward, taking on the full brunt of Gradius's attack, refusing to halt or retreat. Without the shield, he was exposed to the black flames, but though they were eating away at him, he still resisted.

The gem from the shield was unique, augmenting the power and conceptual utilization of defensive magic. The more it was used, and the more energy flowed through it, the more powerful it became, evolving in real time. The collision between Foley and Gradius was engorging it with power, making it grow like it was alive. It had become strong enough to allow Foley to cast shield magic without a shield, instead using his own flesh as the medium. He'd cast it upon the outermost layer of cells covering his body, using them to project the barrier, and once the flames burned that tissue away, he'd cast it on the next layer, repeating the process with his flesh being whittled away like the shield. The fire had eaten him almost down to the bone, but he was inches from Gradius.

"Goddamn dwarf! Just die already!" Umbra snarled. Even without his eyes, he could sense everything going on and refused to believe it.

With his beard already reduced to ash, Foley chuckled. "We dwarves are hardheaded, and you'll never find a skull thicker than mine!"

He finally reached Gradius and smashed the gem against his face. In that moment, all of the power erupting out of Gradius's body was reflected and pushed back in, setting off a chain reaction with only one conclusion. In an apocalyptic burst, Gradius exploded, with all of his power being unleashed at once. The shape of the explosion was similar to a gamma ray burst, with Gradius's power surging out vertically in the shape of a disk, like a wall of black flames that stretched from one end of Vandheim to another, carving deep into the planet's crust and separating the Ashok Mountains from the rest of the country.

A beam of energy was released from Gradius's back, nearly obliterating Ragar in the process of gouging a secondary trench across the planet's surface before shooting off into space. A similar beam would have obliterated Noah and the others, but Foley's barrier protected them. Finally, the explosion faded, and all was quiet. There was not a single trace of Gradius's body, but Foley remained standing, holding out the gem, charred from head to toe by the Profane flames. He then turned to Noah and the others, flashed a grin, gave a single chuckle, and then crumbled to ash.

Everyone stood like statues, trying to process what they had just seen. Even Umbra, knocked to the ground by the explosion, was left struggling to get to his feet and accept the event that had occurred. He was standing on the other side of the new Paleon Channel, which now carved through Vandheim. So much power had just been released, but more than that, it had been defied. It had been bested. Valia, Ragar, Miasmarda, and all the other Profane were left with their mouths hanging open. Then, a furious voice boomed, heavy with grief.

"NOOOOAAAAH!" Roc shouted at the top of his lungs as he forced himself to his feet. "GIVE ME THAT GODDAMN PHOENIX FEATHER!"

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