"I-I can't control my body, Fhiron!!!"
Beowulf dashed forward and threw a punch, but Fhiron stepped to the side, kneeing him in the stomach.
"Guoaah...!!!"
"Beowulf, you have to fight it!"
Fhiron, despite delivering the blow, was worried for his friend's safety.
"D-Don't worry about me... kill me if you have to! My body is being controlled!"
"No, I won't kill you! Don't say such ridiculous things!"
Beowulf raised his hand, charging enough dark energy to completely shroud his palm before swinging it to the side, fabricating a deadly, sweeping explosion.
"Shit!"
Fhiron backflipped away and spread out his wings for flight, manifesting Gilfronta around him to endure the chaotic explosion of magic.
"Fhiron... you have to kill me!"
"No! I have to find a way to nullify the curse that's controlling you."
"Ngh... Gaaaaahhhhh!"
Beowulf yelled in pain as his back started to mutate.
It bulged and grew in size before sprouting wings from behind—appearing bony and bloody.
"What?"
"My body... it's evolving... I can't stop it!"
Beowulf accelerated himself towards Fhiron, holding out his hand.
"B-Be careful Fhiron, I'm about to use Eldritch Magic!"
Fhiron clenched his fist before extending one arm forward.
"Glorrias!"
Shooting a beam of light from his magic circle, the spell had the power to deconstruct his enemies into light particles.
Beowulf, however, managed to launch a dark beam at the spell, swallowing it whole.
"Eldritch Magic can consume spells? How troublesome... but it can still be stopped!!"
Fabricating countless magic circles, Fhiron shot out hundreds to thousands of Glorrias in mere seconds as Beowulf did the same with dark magic.
The entire sky was filled with a battle between light and darkness.
Most of their attacks missed each other and blew up mountains in the distance, as some of them created spherical explosions on the ground, and in the sky.
With Beowulf evolving throughout the battle, his Magic managed to overcome Fhiron and even overpower him.
Thus, his countless Glorrias mattered naught as 100,000 beams of darkness headed straight for the elf, moving at the same speed as him.
But despite the overbearing odds, he dove straight into the line of fire, dodging each, and every beam of darkness; a feat deemed impossible from the overwhelming numbers.
He evaded the attacks with great effort until Beowulf was forced to change his tactics.
"Beowulf, I'll save you!!"
Fhiron headed straight toward his friend, but this time, he manifested something new in their battle.
"O Light Mother, Alufray Spirit... From the dawn that birthed Alfheim to the stars that crown Yggdrasil—I call upon the breath of Your radiance. Cleanse the shadow, shatter the veil, bind my soul to Your truth. Let my hands be Your lance, my voice Your flame, my heart Your will. Through Solaria, I rise as Your child. Through Eclipsera, I strike as Your judgment. Let darkness be undone. Let all things return to the light. I hereby manifest, Virtuous Drive!"
This was the Ultimate Trump Card next to Eclipsera.
Only the Elven King could wield it.
With Virtuous Drive, Fhiron assimilates the Idea of Good into his body, causing him to glow golden with a floating crown hovering around his head, and golden circles of magic connected to his ankles and wrists.
This ultimate blessing, passed down from his father, allowed him to contain and control the power of the Light Mother, drastically increasing his mana output and even bestowing him with spirit magic.
"Gambriell!"
Extending his palm, Fhiron formed a miniature sun right in front of him, launching it forward at high acceleration.
Virtuous Drive's main ability gave him the power to become stronger as long as there was evil present.
If there was evil that was stronger than him, then Fhiron would grow to match their level; improving his magic, speed and strength.
If his enemy grew stronger, then so would he, indefinitely.
His magic potency, magic resistances, and everything are taken into account.
"Gnaaaaaa!!!!"
Beowulf tried to blast away the deadly sun with his Eldritch Magic, but it failed and was nullified.
Not even this dark magic could absorb the power of the Light Mother.
"Gaaaahhhhhhh!!"
Beowulf was hurled to the ground at alarming speeds until he finally smashed into the grassy field.
A thunderous explosion rolled across the land, shaking even the ivory spires of Galawen miles away.
Smoke rose in columns with the ground split beneath the impact.
"Huff... huff... huff..."
Fhiron fell from the sky and lay sprawled against the dirt with his chest heaving.
His golden radiance had gone out as the crown above his head dispersed.
Virtuous Drive had burned itself out of him.
"That... last strike... it drained everything out of me..."
He groaned with his fingers clawing weakly at the soil.
"Damn it. I couldn't... hold it."
Every muscle screamed in protest when he tried to rise.
He barely managed to lift his head, but then out of nowhere, he could hear rubble moving about.
From the crater's heart, broken stone fell.
"No... impossible!" Fhiron's eyes widened. "He's still standing?"
Beowulf's voice echoed, ragged and trembling.
"Fhiron... please... I can't hold it back anymore. Run! Run while you still can!!"
Staggering, his body dragged itself out of the crater with his eyes clouded with crimson.
"Beowulf..."
"Listen to me!" He shouted, tears and blood streaking his face. "Get away from here! Call your strongest warriors! Have them kill me! I'm trying to resist the curse's influence with everything I've got!"
Fhiron managed the faintest of smirks, even while slumped against the ground.
"You think I can run? I can't even lift my arm, fool."
Beowulf widened his eyes.
"No... that can't be... you shouldn't be drained already!"
"It seems... I haven't mastered her blessing yet." Fhiron said bitterly.
Beowulf clenched his fist as his frame shuddered against the curse.
"I can't... I won't be the one to end you, Fhiron! You're my brother! My best friend! If I kill you, I'll..." His voice cracked. "I'll kill myself right after!"
Before Fhiron could answer, another voice, cold and unfamiliar, cut through the smoke.
"I won't allow that."
Both heads snapped toward the sound.
A figure in a black cape stood at the crater's rim with a heavy tome cradled in her hands.
She had white hair and a witch hat adorning her head.
"...Who?" Fhiron asked, raspy.
Beowulf's breath hitched as his pupils shrank.
"My name is Grimhild Yorgana." She spoke. "I've come here to eliminate Nyarlathotep."
Both men's hearts jolted.
"G–Grimhild Yorgana?" Beowulf stammered. "One of the Calamity Witches?!"
"You..." Fhiron's brow furrowed. "What business do you have here? How do you know of Nyarlathotep? Are you behind this?"
She flipped open her book as the pages revealed forbidden runes.
"Nyarlathotep." She said flatly. "The Crawling Chaos. He hunts for vulnerable hosts. He speaks of promises into their hearts, only to transform them into one of his infinite avatars after they're fully corrupted. I've tracked him across more worlds than you can imagine after the age of legends ended, and now, he wears your friend's skin."
Beowulf's jaw clenched, trembling.
"He's right... he told me I could see Fhiron again if I just... obeyed. But I didn't know... I didn't know what he truly was."
Fhiron's eyes widened in horror.
Grimhild's voice was heavy, but merciless.
"When Nyarlathotep marks his host, there is no undoing it. He owns not just your body, Beowulf, but your very nucleus. Eldritch Magic comes from the void, it is too powerful to break without repercussions."
"What are you saying you'll do to him?" Fhiron demanded, his weak arms still trying to push himself upright.
"...I will remove the curse. That means ending your friend's life."
"No!"
Fhiron shouted hoarsely, the effort tearing at his throat.
"He's innocent! He only wanted to see me again! This isn't his crime!"
Beowulf lowered his head as tears fell freely.
His voice was steady, but broken.
"Do it."
Fhiron's eyes burned.
"What?! No!"
"If this curse stays inside me, Fhiron, I'll slaughter your people, your kingdom, and everyone else. I'd rather die than let that happen."
"Beowulf, don't you dare!" His voice cracked, desperation coming through. "We'll find another way! I'll find another way!"
Beowulf forced himself to smile through the trembling.
"If even she, one of the witches of calamity, cannot find a cure without death, then there is no way. My fate was sealed the moment I took his hand."
"Stop it... stop saying that!"
"Fhiron." Beowulf's gaze softened. "You were the first to see me as more than just a human. You were my brother when Alfheim spat on me. But this is where I let go."
Fhiron's voice broke into a raw cry.
"No! Don't you leave me, Beowulf!! Don't you dare!!!"
But Beowulf only closed his eyes, bracing for the inevitable.
"Grimhild... please. End this before I lose myself completely. The curse right now is halted by my willpower alone."
"There must be another way, Beowulf! Just wait!"
"Have you noticed, Fhiron?" Grimhild's voice cut through his desperation.
"...?"
Fhiron staggered with his chest heaving and his brow furrowed.
"Your world and its light are being consumed at this very moment by his presence. That is what happens when the Other Gods take hold. When Nyarlathotep and his kind feed, whatever they devour is erased forever. Mathematics, languages, entire civilizations, and even people like you, are sent into the Ultimate Void and forgotten. If Beowulf continues as he is—everyone you love will share that fate."
Fhiron's fists shook.
"No... no, that can't be true. I refuse to believe that!"
Grimhild's gaze softened, but her words remained cold.
"I'm sorry. It must be this way."
"I'm ready." Said Beowulf.
The book glowed with a sickly green light as runes twisted across its pages.
She lifted it high as an unearthly wind whipped around her.
Her voice deepened inhumanly, carrying syllables never meant for mortal tongues.
"Ai'ghoa Nyarlathotep, shagg fhtagn! K'yarra chathul gnai'rr, ph'sshog ur-tha! Na'kai draugh, ilthuon agh-rragh, Fh'nglui nghai-thel, vrath gnorru!"
The world of Alfheim quaked as the sound tore at the air.
Still, she pressed on with a voice rising like thunder.
"Draugh El'dra, shathos k'yen! Ahl-ghor maun, ph'nglui k'yath! By the Will of the Necronomicon, break the chain—Aiia! Aiia! Nyarlathotep, begone!!"
Fhiron's body jolted with a surge of adrenaline.
His legs moved before he thought, carrying him forward, toward Beowulf—but it was too late.
"Goodbye... my friend..."
The black aura strangling Beowulf flickered and then shattered.
His body began dissolving into particles of light.
"Noooo!!" Fhiron shouted with a cry that shook the crater.
He dove forward, clutching Beowulf as his form unraveled and slowly dispersed into nothingness.
Beowulf smiled with his eyes closing as tears streaked his cheeks.
"...I'm sorry, my friend. I'm sorry for my foolishness, but I'll never regret the days we had together."
"Don't say that! Please, don't leave me like this! I'll never forget you, Beowulf, never!"
Fhiron sobbed, clutching tighter even as the body slipped through his arms like ash.
"I wish we could meet in the halls of Valhalla... but... my nucleus will perish alongside me. Goodbye, Fhiron."
The last fragments of light scattered into the wind.
Beowulf was gone.
So was the curse.
Fhiron collapsed onto his knees, palms pressing into the dirt with his shoulders trembling.
His cries echoed across the silent field.
"It's over." Grimhild said quietly, lowering the book. "Your people are safe. And Beowulf... in the end, he chose courage."
"Beowulf..." Fhiron's voice broke, raw with grief.
He wept openly with his tears falling into the soil.
No spell could rewrite this reality.
His dearest friend was gone.
"How...?" He finally whispered, lifting his tear-stained face toward her. "How did you stop something so strong? Even his nucleus was bound."
Grimhild looked at the book in her hand, the glow fading from its pages before she closed it shut.
"With this. A book I made; a weapon against the Other Gods. I am the only one who's studied their true nature. They cannot be permanently killed, not even by me. But they can be driven back. Banished."
Fhiron wiped his eyes with the back of his sleeve.
"So it's true. You really are a witch."
She lowered the brim of her hat over her face, her eyes dim beneath the shadow.
"Yes. Once, they called me the Witch of Destruction. I prefer... Witch of Justice now."
Fhiron drew a shaky breath, then bowed his head in solemn respect.
"Witch of Justice... thank you. You saved my people—and freed Beowulf from his suffering. He doesn't have to live in regret anymore."
"...Perhaps so."
The wind whistled through the ruined crater, carrying away the last traces of golden light.
(Fhiron's POV)
Those were the days when I met Grimhild.
It was glorious, and also heartbreaking to lose my friend.
I've heard of Nyarlathotep during those times and knew how much of a threat he was.
I also fell in love with Grimhild sooner or later, calling her my goddess as she stayed inside the Elven kingdom for a bit, allowing us to become friends.
She obtained the respect of all the elves, especially Avery.
They all loved Grimhild dearly because of her incredible control of magic.
All the elven girls wanted to be like Grimhild and even looked up to her.
Eventually, Grimhild left for Midgard, claiming she wanted to clean up the mess that she had made in the Mystical and Legendary Age.
And apparently, Nyarlathotep was part of that mess.
She was busy trying to bring Yggdrasil back to its prime, where law and order was in perfect harmony.
Needless to say, she wanted redemption.
And now here I am, traveling alongside her, on a ship with new friends.
I owe Grimhild for what she's done.
Together, I'll try to make this world a better place, by her side.