No one knew how much time had passed as the young man, wreathed in flames, and the young woman, shrouded in ice and snow, remained locked in a fierce battle upon the sea of magma, creating a most uncanny spectacle across its expanse.
From time to time, violent surges of flame erupted, while at other times the molten sea of magma rolled like great waves, and yet, impossibly, fragments of shattered glaciers drifted upon its surface.
Needless to say, the coexistence of fire and ice—glaciers floating within a sea of magma—completely defied the laws of physics, leaving anyone who witnessed it feeling as though they had stepped into a dream, unreal in every sense.
Had Sigmund been present, he would surely have doubted his own eyes, wondering whether he was dreaming.
Only the ancient fire dragon seemed entirely unaware, continuing its slumber as though nothing existed around it, never once reacting abnormally.
As for Lizbeth, she had long since been unable to spare any thought for Riezel.
Besieged by numerous magic dolls while possessing merely the strength of an ordinary Sword Master, Lizbeth was already struggling and could barely withstand such opponents.
Each magic doll was a creation of unknown technologies from the ancient magic civilization, where even a single one of them could prove troublesome for an expert Sword Master, and a Sword Saint would find it impossible to dispatch swiftly.
Yet Lizbeth was forced to face many at once—such an ordeal was nearly unbearable.
Had Riezel not, before leaving her, strengthened her body with dozens of defensive magic spells—and had Lizbeth not, upon sensing danger, abandoned her restraint and unleashed the War King Sword Style she had sworn to keep hidden after becoming his attendant—she might already have been captured by these uncanny beings.
However, as time went on, the magic dolls' coordinated assault showed no signs of relenting, while Lizbeth's stamina and magical energy steadily dwindled.
Clearly, the signs of her imminent defeat began to show.
*Swish!*
*Swish!*
*Swish!*
With each faint tearing of the air, the magic dolls darted like ghosts, their blurred figures flashing ceaselessly before Lizbeth's eyes.
"Haah... Haah... Haah..."
Clutching Moslow, Lizbeth gasped for breath as the light of magical energy flickering around her body dimmed little by little.
Suddenly, Lizbeth twisted her body and swung her sword sideways.
*Clang!*
A burst of sparks scattered as Moslow knocked aside a clawed weapon that had silently thrust toward her. Its wielder was flung back, only to resume its ghostlike dance around her, ever searching for another opening.
*Clang!*
*Clang!*
Two more clashes followed soon after, Lizbeth driving back another pair of magic dolls that had slipped within striking range.
Such was their battle.
Lizbeth, rooted in place, fought a desperate defense, while the magic dolls encircled like shadows, striking with silent claws whenever the chance appeared.
Maybe to an outsider's eye, the exchange might have seemed almost mundane, but the danger concealed within was immeasurable.
Lizbeth herself knew that if not for the War King Sword Style she had mastered—its power awakening her spiritual power, sharpening her mind—she would never have sensed the magic dolls' noiseless strikes.
By now, the cold energies clinging to those claw-like weapons would have drained every ounce of her strength, leaving Lizbeth a helpless prize for the enemy to crush at will.
They were too strange, their strength was strange, their attacks were strange, and even their combat patterns were strange.
Lizbeth could find no method to overcome them.
'At this rate, I'll lose for sure...'
As this thought crossed her mind, Lizbeth's heart tightened with unease.
'No, I can't panic.'
Lizbeth forced herself to calm down as words once spoken by her master drifted into her ears.
"Listen, the most important thing is to maintain."
"No matter how fierce the battle, as long as you maintain your breathing, you can keep fighting."
"If the rhythm of your breathing doesn't falter, strength will naturally well up within you, and your organs and blood flow will remain steady."
"If you can achieve this, stamina will become endless, vitality will grow, and even wounds will heal swiftly."
"Focus."
"Always remember to focus."
"As long as you focus, you'll always see the chance to win."
When exactly those words had been said by her master, Lizbeth could no longer recall, yet she chose, without hesitation, to believe them.
"Focus..."
"Focus..."
"Focus..."
Murmuring to herself, Lizbeth's breathing gradually steadied, becoming ordered and even.
Concentrating, Lizbeth soon fell into a profound calm.
"Eh?"
Abruptly, Lizbeth realized she was seeing something strange—the magic dolls, darting about like ghosts, seemed to be turning... transparent.
'What is this?'
Lizbeth's eyes widened involuntarily.
As she looked closer, their black clothing vanished, their flesh grew transparent, every strand of muscle fiber became visible, their organs revealed themselves, and their veins surfaced one by one.
Now she could see through their bodies, discern the flow of their blood, the movement of their muscles, the condition of their organs.
Watching them, she suddenly understood something from the shifting of their muscles.
'They're about to attack...'
Just as this thought formed in Lizbeth's mind, the familiar sounds followed.
*Swish!*
*Swish!*
*Swish!*
Following these sounds, the magic dolls shifted direction, swooping toward her with claw-like weapons that gleamed like the scythes of death, steeped in chilling energy.
Even though their assault was the same as before, Lizbeth felt something entirely different this time.
'Slow... So slow...'
With this thought, Lizbeth's body moved on its own.
*Clang!*
Moslow, once heavy from exhaustion, now moved as though light as a feather, tracing a peculiar arc to knock the claws aside.
*Clang!*
*Clang!*
In Lizbeth's hands, Moslow's momentum showed no sign of slowing, and with her otherworldly movements guiding her, she struck even faster and lighter, deflecting the attacks from two other directions in the blink of an eye.
"!!!"
Shaken by the force of Lizbeth's counter, the magic dolls staggered back.
They realized that the girl before them, who had seemed on the verge of defeat only moments ago, had now entered a strange state.
Her presence thinned until it nearly vanished, while her movements, once frantic, became smooth and composed. Her wide eyes no longer focused on their forms but on the secrets within their very bodies.
Her gaze pierced them utterly, as if stripping away all their hidden truths, making them unconsciously shudder, feeling naked before her.
*Swish!*
*Swish!*
*Swish!*
Driven by fear, the magic dolls lunged again, desperate to end Lizbeth.
Lizbeth moved with uncanny grace, sidestepping and shifting to evade every strike with ease, her eyes gleaming faintly all the while.
As the magic dolls' attacks faltered, old strength spent and new yet to rise, Lizbeth brought down her golden sword.
*Pu-chi!*
With a sound like tearing silk, Moslow sliced cleanly through a magic doll's torso, cutting it in half.
Yes, cut in half.
At this moment, the magic doll, freshly severed, collapsed in a spray of blood, twitched upon the ground, and lay still.
"!!!"
Seeing the scene, the remaining magic dolls recoiled in panic, fleeing in a frenzy.
"What... happened..."
Even Lizbeth herself was stunned, staring at the hand that had just swung Moslow.
Earlier, she had merely decided to strike at the moment when the magic doll's muscles shifted—never imagining such a result.
Evidently, this was not just the awakening of her perception, but the razor edge of Moslow itself.
It should be noted that the magic dolls' bodies were strange, far stronger than ordinary flesh.
Back then, when they had first kidnapped Lizbeth in the forest, even Riezel's Thunderclap and Flash had failed to slay them outright, merely knocking them away as though they were wrapped in impenetrable skin.
Given that, the fact that Lizbeth could kill one so easily now was thanks in no small part to Moslow's edge.
Regardless, this was no time for analysis—even bewildered by her own state, Lizbeth would not squander the chance to turn the tide.
With a strange serenity upon her face, Lizbeth advanced quickly toward the magic dolls.
"...Not right."
"...She is in an unknown state."
"...Combat not advised."
Seeing Lizbeth closing in, the magic dolls exchanged their eerie vibrations of speech.
"...Primary objective remains completion of the mission."
"...Leader Ice Maiden cannot disengage from battle, cannot secure the target item."
"...Per prior orders, in this case, we are to seize the item ourselves and retreat."
"...Acknowledged."
"...Acknowledged."
Coming to a decision, the magic dolls began to withdraw.
"Do-Don't you dare run!"
Startled, Lizbeth quickly chased after them.
Naturally, the magic dolls' retreat caught the attention of the two still clashing upon the sea of magma.
"Escape?"
Riezel appeared in midair, watching the magic dolls abandon the fight and carry away pieces torn from the Nibelung Pillar toward the exit of the molten world.
At once, he moved to pursue, but how could such movement go unnoticed by the woman whose powers bordered on precognition?
*BOOM!*
A torrent of ice and snow roared forth like a blizzard, engulfing Riezel.
Riezel burst from the blizzard in a blaze of firelight, but in that instant, the woman wielding the crystal-ice sword closed in on him, striking down with a fierce blow.
"Our battle isn't over yet!"
Ice Maiden had clearly foreseen the magic dolls' movements and now chose to shield their retreat by standing in Riezel's way.
"You wanted peace before, and now you insist on fighting me?"
Riezel's tone carried a faint mockery, yet he did not dismiss Ice Maiden's slash.
From their earlier clash, he had learned that even Body of Effulgent Heliodor—the defensive magic that nullified slashing attacks—could not withstand Ice Maiden's sword, for despite the magic being active, it had still cut through his arm.
In other words, Ice Maiden's so-called national artifact could not be resisted by magic—like Raven's Rebellion, it seemed to possess the power to break through sorcery itself.
Worse still, the wounds it left behind brimmed with deadly cold.
Had Riezel not swiftly raised the intensity of Sun Breathing to burn away the chill, his very organs might have frozen solid.
Because of that, he judged the sword not only capable of unleashing cold but also of inflicting a freezing abnormality upon its victims. Were it anyone else—without maxed Abnormal Resistance and immunity to physical interference—they would already have fallen.
What made matters more dire was that, as Ice Maiden wielded the national artifact, her strength multiplied with every moment.
Even though Riezel could not tell which country the national artifact originated from, he knew one truth beyond doubt.
'Her sword... is on the level of a World Item...'
It was, without question, the most powerful mystical artifact Riezel had ever seen in this world, stronger even than Divine Meloe.
Such a weapon could rightfully be called a national artifact, a treasure capable of guarding an entire nation.
However, the only question was...
'Who exactly is this Ice Maiden, to be wielding such a sword?'
===
[A bonus chapter for every 500 Power Stones.]
[Support me and read next chapters early at: patreon.com/VALRRR]