The Forest of Eternity surrounded the entire village. Its only known entrance lay through its own depths—yet passage was impossible. Any who entered fell under its spell, slipping into a coma, their bodies left helpless to be dragged deeper into its shadowed heart.
Tonight marked an entire week since that spell had stopped working.
Far to the south of the village—mysteriously and inexplicably nested within the Forest of Eternity—two humans stood.
Here, the forest could scarcely be called a forest at all. The trees in the south had been reduced to nothing, leaving behind only a wasteland of sodden dirt.
Two humans stood there, soaked in blood.
The first—a woman with hair once a vivid blue, now streaked with red and black—wore a white tunic torn in several places. Blood leaked from her in slow, steady streams. One eye was closed, too heavy and damaged to open; a deep gash marred her left arm. A gaping hole pierced straight through her stomach, spilling the warmth down her body.
Yet the most striking detail was that she stood with one foot firmly planted on the chestplate of a Monarch-ranked void creature. A spear was driven into the creature’s mana core, black blood pooling beneath her boots, mingling with flecks of her own red.
Before her, a man knelt on one knee, panting. He wore the sa bare-shouldered robe from the very beginning, the sa blindfold, both now drenched in blood. Black and red stained them both.
He bled as she did—wounded and ragged. His left leg was pierced through, holes torn across parts of his body. He coughed blood with each breath.
Then the Monarch beneath Ranni’s foot dissolved into dozens of white motes that drifted upward like fragnts of dying starlight.
’I can’t fight anymore...’
Slowly, Mirius stood. And laughed.
"Incredible... you’ve taken down a Monarch, an abyssal. You even managed to handle . All it cost was the sacrifice of four of your own soul echoes... and yet here you stand. Alive. I finally understand why you’ve been ranked in the top ten of the Monthly Hero magazine for the past five years. Amazing."
’My mana is basically depleted, and it won’t regenerate fast enough to fight him...’
He rolled his shoulders, while Ranni twirled her bloodstained spear.
"But you see, Master Ranni," he went on, "as remarkable as you are... in my eyes, you’re still just a child."
Ranni smiled faintly.
"Then should I call you grandpa? Maybe put you in a nice, luxurious nursing ho. Who knows—maybe you’ll et soone there who doesn’t make you want to die."
’...I’m going to lose.’
Mirius chuckled, shaking his head.
"A kind offer. But the one I want to et is waiting for to die."
He looked up at the stars.
"’Kill the villain,’ he said... Tell —what have I done so villainous that you’re so desperate to end ?"
Her smile vanished.
"Are you kidding ? You’ve held this entire village hostage. You held the village chief hostage. You took two cadets from my academy and a princess of the Nebula Clan! Not to ntion the shady things your cult tried to pull back at the academy. And we both know that the mont you left this village, you would’ve co after my cadets, stood against us, and carried out whatever evil sches you’ve been plotting."
Mirius lifted his bloodied hands in surrender.
"I get it. I understand where you’re coming from. But I have no grand evil sche to concoct—nor was I holding any villagers hostage. None of them even knew I existed, save for the chief. As for those two cadets from your academy, I planned to let them go once I left. I only wanted to learn what was so important about this village. And those shady things back then..." He exhaled.
"Well, that was just business."
Ranni narrowed her eye.
"Seriously," he went on, "we could have had a civilized conversation from the start—no need to waste our soul echoes like this. It’s all the fault of Prince Azriel, can’t you see? He set us up. He set you up to die. If anyone’s shady, it’s him."
"You think I’m going to trust the word of a man who faked his own death? The most loyal sword of the previous Dusk King? A traitor to humanity? You’re out of your mind."
"Ah yes—let’s trust the word of a royal. A prince. Soone from the great clans." Mirius’s voice dripped with scorn.
"It must be nice, lying in bed with the great clans while staying blissfully ignorant. If you think I’m a villain, then they are devils—every last one of them. Every royal among the great clans is a scheming bastard who wouldn’t hesitate to kill millions to reach their goals. You don’t know anything, Master Ranni. You have no idea how vile and disgusting those who hold real power truly are. And if you think Prince Azriel—who, mind you, orchestrated every single thing here to take down—is acting out of the goodness of his heart... then you really are better off dying by my hands instead of his."
Ranni shifted her stance, her gaze sharpening.
"Perhaps. I won’t deny that he has motives beyond taking down a villain. But right now, removing you aligns with both our interests. And most importantly... he is my student. I won’t allow a single student of mine to die on my watch—whether they belong to a clan, a guild, or nothing at all. If I must sacrifice my future so they can have theirs... I’ll gladly do it."
Mirius regarded her for a long mont, his expression was cold—then suddenly he burst out laughing, clapping his hands despite the way the motion tore at his wounds.
"Ah yes, you say that... yet you let him go off on his own to fight an abyssal and a demon. I’ve heard the rumors—one painting him as a delinquent, the other as so great hero. Whether either is true doesn’t matter. Tell —what makes you think he’s going to win? What makes you think he hasn’t already died? My demon can burn anything—a perfect counter to ice. And each ti it fights, it becos faster. The abyssal... well, if it wishes, it can turn anything to stone. Even the prince. So, if you’re truly so devoted to your students, why aren’t you already running to his aid?"
"Simple," Ranni replied, her composure unbroken.
"Those two soul echoes have yet to return. The air has grown slightly colder. We can both see the mana fluctuations. And..." Her gaze hardened.
"...you are gravely mistaken if you think I only have four soul echoes."
Mirius’s smile died.
"You sent one to help the prince, didn’t you?"
Ranni’s lips curved faintly.
"Perhaps he might struggle one against two... but I’ve just evened the odds. And I know he’ll definitely win now—because he’s my strongest student."
Mirius chuckled.
"You got ."
He cracked his neck.
"If only I didn’t have more soul echoes of my own."
Ranni’s one good eye widened.
"As I had said to him, I was not going to make the mistake of underestimating him again. It’s best to get rid of him now before he becos an even bigger thorn than he already is."
"...."
"So it cos down to this—whether your soul echo defeats mine, or mine defeats yours. Whoever wins decides the fate of the Prince of the Crimson Clan by getting to him first."
Mirius began walking toward her, flexing his fingers.
"And unless you sent a demon-rank—"
He stopped.
Mid-stride, mid-word, he froze. His brow furrowed. His head turned toward a distant point. Slowly, he lifted a hand to his chest—right over where his mana core lay. And he felt it. Sothing precious. Gone.
"Impossible..."
Ranni’s stance shifted, her gaze sharpened with alertness.
"I know mine hasn’t killed your soul echo yet. And yours hasn’t killed mine... so then... how?"
Confusion flickered across her face—until her eye widened, her other eye opening slightly as realization struck.
"He... he won? He really killed... my abyssal?"
Her head turned instinctively toward the direction of the village. It was too far to see. Too far to hear any clash of battle. The mana fluctuations had stopped.
A second later, Mirius stiffened again, the sa hollow feeling passing through him.
"...The soul echo I sent to you... lost."
His face darkened.
Ranni’s face, however, lit with a fierce, proud smile.
"Well... would you look at that, Master Corven. Seems in the end... we still both underestimated Prince Azriel."
"Not so fast... I still have my demon. I’ll admit—what just happened is as incredible as you defeating a Monarch—but he’s probably on the verge of death by now. My demon will finish him off..."
Mirius’s voice carried sothing strange this ti—an emptiness, a hollow echo beneath his words.
Ranni’s face tightened.
But then—only seconds later—Mirius felt it.
His demon had died.
"...What..."
His head turned instinctively toward where the village lay, though it was far out of sight.
"...That’s... no. That shouldn’t be possible. He killed my demon..?"
Ranni stared at him, shock already on her face from before, but now it deepened into sothing more than just disbelief.
Azriel Crimson had killed an abyssal and a demon? This fast? Wasn’t that... far too fast?
But...
But he did it, didn’t he?
He won.
Ranni’s grip on her spear tightened.
’How could I accept losing if he won? My own student didn’t give up—what gives the right to?’
She stepped forward, swaying slightly as dizziness washed over her. Her head felt light, her vision unstable. Mana trickled back into her soul veins, too slowly.
But she could not stop.
Nor could she lose.
Dragging her foot, she moved toward Mirius.
He watched her, his expression turning cold.
"Very well. A pity—you had the potential to be the one. But you will die tonight."
He wielded no soul weapon. He wore no soul armor.
Mirius simply began walking toward her.
Then—
Both vanished from where they stood.
The ground beneath them erupted, the force carving deep craters into the soaked earth.
And they fought once more.
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