Ayame fought tooth and nail against the A Rank Unfaithful. Her blade flashed in the firelight, each strike precise, desperate. Blood dripped from cuts on her arms, her face. She did not slow down. Could not slow down.
Fredrick supported Lucid, holding him upright as the boy gurgled on his own blood. The white glow worked frantically, stitching flesh back together, sealing the throat wound the man in black had inflicted. Blood bubbled from Lucid's lips, then stopped. The wound closed. He gasped, pulling air back into his lungs.
'I need to be careful,' Lucid thought, wiping blood from his chin. 'This was it. This was the moment.'
He looked at Fredrick, evaluating. Something weird about this guy. His eyes moved over Fredrick's battered form, the way he held himself despite the broken arm, the bloodied face still wearing that grin.
Lucid shot him a lazy glance, then pushed himself up to his feet.
He looked at the monstrosity Ayame was fighting. She could keep up with it, surprisingly well. He remembered back when he fought the S Rank wolf in the Red Mountains. She had not done a terrible job then either. Just a dagger holding back tons of muscle and fang.
An A Rank Unfaithful. With the two of them, it could be possible.
The problem were the two professors. And the man he had met in that tavern, the one who for some reason was here as well, orchestrating all of this.
Lucid bent his knees in a stance. He thought about chains. A spear. But he did not want to use it yet.
Something slammed into his right side, knocking the breath out of him. He flew sideways, crashed into a shelf. The wood splintered beneath the impact.
'The attacks are getting through. Corrosive fate essence. No resistance against it.'
"Tsk."
He pushed himself up, ribs aching.
The man in black appeared behind one of the professors. He had disappeared into the depths of the shadow marionette, only to emerge elsewhere like smoke given form. He nodded to the pink-haired professor. She nodded back with a sadistic smile, her red eyes shining twice as bright.
The other professor, a woman with tattered robes, looked confused. Frightened. She stepped back, hands raised.
"What are you doing?" she asked, voice trembling.
"Shh now," the man in black said, his voice soft, almost kind.
He stepped closer. She backed into a shelf.
"May Mother Alisia grant you peace in her final embrace toward oblivion's end."
He slit her throat in one smooth motion. Blood sprayed across the scorched purple grass. She clutched at her neck, eyes wide, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. He kicked her body toward the shadow marionette.
The A Rank Unfaithful grabbed her, adding more doll-like limbs to its collection beside the existing ones. Miguel's head twisted within the shadow, watching with those hollow white eyes.
It was grim. Horrible.
Fredrick's eyes went wide with fury. His jaw clenched so hard his teeth might crack.
Lucid just stared in disgust. His face did not change. But his hands tightened into fists.
Immediately, a pressure like no other enveloped the clearing. The air became thick, suffocating. The flames around them bent away from the center, as though fleeing from something terrible.
The A Rank Unfaithful had absorbed the professor's body. It grew larger. Darker. More solid. Purple eyes opened across its surface, dozens of them, all blinking in unison.
Ayame slid back, blocked an attack with a dual blood blade that shattered into crystallized shards. The fragments scattered across the ground like rubies.
Lucid tried to call out for her, but a tendril caught her mid-dodge. It slammed into her stomach, lifting her off her feet. She flew backward like a lifeless doll, crashing into burning shelves. Wood collapsed on top of her. She disappeared beneath the debris.
Fredrick sensed something. He punched immediately behind him.
It was not the shadow. It was the man.
The man in black caught his fist and crushed it under his grip. Bones ground together. Fredrick's face contorted in pain, but he did not scream.
The man in black winced slightly at the effort it took.
"A strong one, aren't you?"
He kicked Fredrick out of the way. Fredrick flew across the clearing, hit the ground hard, rolled several times before coming to a stop.
The man in black turned his attention to Lucid. He smiled, small and cold.
"Finally. I have been waiting ever since Tyriana."
He motioned with his hand and grabbed Lucid's head. Lucid tried to do something, tried to block, tried to summon the chains. But it seemed that a touch was all he needed.
"Shit."
Immediately, a dark substance of black liquid enveloped them both. It spread from the man's hand, crawling over Lucid's skin like oil, covering his face, his chest, his arms.
Ayame, on the ground with debris covering her body, blood pooling beneath her, looked at him. Her lips moved.
"No."
The word was barely a whisper.
Fredrick was knocked back again, met with another attack from the A Rank Unfaithful that seemed more powerful now. Faster. Stronger.
"How is this thing getting stronger?" he screamed through gritted teeth.
He looked back toward Lucid.
Lucid was gone. A dark circle was drawn in the ground where he had stood. Symbols carved themselves into the stone, glowing with purple light. Then they faded.
Instead of Lucid, there was nothing. Just empty air and ash.
He had lost Lucid.
The one who had helped him.
The one he had thrown into this mess.
The one he had promised to help as well.
Fredrick's chest tightened. Something inside him threatened to break.
As he was knocked back to another knee, he cursed under his breath. He was not weak. He could finish this right now if he wanted to. But as Fredrick, as himself, he could not complete such a simple task.
'I would have to rely on my other title. My other self.'
The A Rank Unfaithful loomed over him. Miguel's head within the shadow spoke.
"Fredrick. Fredrick. Give up."
Fredrick looked up. Blood ran down his face from a cut above his eye. His left arm hung useless. His right gripped the cracking sword.
He thought about the princess. About Elara hanging on that tree, corruption climbing her body, whispering his name.
He thought about Lucid, dragged into whatever darkness the man in black had sent him to.
He thought about Ayame, buried beneath debris, bleeding out.
'I cannot save any of them like this. I cannot do anything like this.'
His hand shook beside him.
'But if I awaken, I prove them right. I prove that there is no other way. That strength only comes through submission.'
The A Rank Unfaithful raised a tendril, preparing to strike the killing blow.
Fredrick's shoulders sagged.
'Forgive me,' he thought. 'Forgive me for being weak.'
The tendril came down.
Fredrick closed his eyes.
Then, from the debris across the clearing, something moved.
A hand emerged. Pale. Bloodied. Ayame pulled herself free, wood and stone falling away from her body. She stood, swaying. Her dagger was gone. Her blood blade had shattered.
But her eyes were open. Focused.
She raised her hand. Blood dripped from her palm. It gathered in the air, forming a new blade. Longer this time. Sharper.
The A Rank Unfaithful turned its attention toward her. All those purple eyes focused on this new threat.
Ayame did not flinch. She bent her knees. Took a stance.
The man in black, standing where Lucid had disappeared, looked at her with mild interest.
"Still fighting?" he asked. "Even after choosing him over your clan? Even after your failure?"
Ayame said nothing. Her grip on the blood blade tightened.
The pink-haired professor, Anya, stepped forward. She planted her staff into the ground again. More corrupted fate essence began to flow.
"Let me handle this one," she said, her voice dripping with cruel amusement.
"Well then I'll take my leave." The man in the dark suit disappeared, black liquid submerging him.
Fire erupted around Anya. Ice formed beneath her feet. Earth rumbled.
Ayame stood alone against an Awakened professor and an A Rank Unfaithful.
Fredrick, still on his knee, watched. His breathing was ragged. His vision blurred at the edges.
'She cannot win. Not alone. Not against this.'
He looked down at his hand. At the cracked hilt. At the fate essence in the air, waiting to be drawn in. Waiting to be claimed.
'I could save her. I could save Elara. I could end this.'
His jaw clenched.
'But I would become like them. I would prove them right.'
The A Rank Unfaithful lunged at Ayame. She dodged, barely. A tendril grazed her shoulder, tearing flesh. Blood sprayed.
Anya launched a barrage of ice spears. Ayame deflected two, dodged three more. One caught her thigh. She gasped, stumbled.
Fredrick's hand trembled on the sword.
'Forgive me,' he thought again. 'Forgive me for what I am about to do.'
He closed his eyes. Focused inward. Reached for that other part of himself. The part he had sworn never to use again.
The part that was not Fredrick.
The part that had survived her wrath.