[In front of Mira's room]
Pain was the first thing Alan felt.
Not like a sudden blow, but like a deep weight spread throughout his body, pulsing in rhythm with his heart. It was the kind of pain that clearly said: you should be unconscious.
But he wasn't.
In the darkness behind his closed eyes, something was moving.
Mana.
It didn't explode, it didn't burn, it didn't writhe like it had in previous fights. It flowed silently, obedient to an ancient, almost primitive instinct. With every heartbeat, that energy was drawn into his wounds, stitching flesh together, aligning bones, rebuilding what had been broken.
Alan took a deep breath—and the air entered without pain.
That made him open his eyes.
The cracked ceiling of the corridor came into view, along with the unmoving figure of Goliath a few steps ahead. The world still spun slightly, but his body… his body was responding.
I'm alive, he thought.
More than that.
He was getting up.
Alan braced a hand against the floor, feeling mana circulate beneath his skin like a calm river. There was no euphoria, no overwhelming sense of power. Just a quiet certainty: as long as that mana kept flowing, he wouldn't fall so easily.
Goliath watched him in silence now, no attack stance, as if facing something he couldn't explain.
Alan rose to his feet.
Maybe that magic wasn't meant to win battles quickly. Maybe it never would be.
But as long as he could rise one more time, as long as he could take one more step forward…
He would not be defeated.
After standing up, Alan remained still for a few seconds, feeling his own body.
His muscles still ached, his bones complained in silence, but nothing was broken. Mana continued to circulate, sealing microfractures, reinforcing tissue, keeping him upright by sheer force if necessary.
Goliath was the first to move.
He straightened his posture slowly, his eyes fixed on Alan as if he were staring at an unfamiliar creature.
"You should be unconscious," he said, his deep voice restrained. "That blow… wasn't weak."
Alan placed a hand on his own chest, feeling his heart beating steadily.
"I know," he replied. "I thought it was over too."
The corridor felt narrower now. The cracked walls, the shattered floor—everything bore the marks of the fight, marks that wouldn't fade as easily as Alan's wounds.
Goliath clenched his fists.
"That mana…" He took a deep breath. "It doesn't stop. Even now."
Alan closed his eyes for a moment, focusing. The more attention he paid, the more he understood. The mana didn't respond to his direct will like an attack spell. It responded to his state.
To his will to keep going.
"Demian once told me," Alan began, opening his eyes, "that emotions can distort mana. Make it stronger… or more dangerous."
Goliath remained silent.
"I think that in my case," Alan continued, "it chose not to let me fall."
One step.
Alan moved forward, steady, even as his body still protested.
Goliath took half a step back, almost imperceptibly.
Not out of fear.
But out of recognition.
"You're not fighting to win anymore," Goliath said. "You're fighting because you have to move forward."
Alan stopped in front of Mira's door.
"I've come too far to stop now."
For a long moment, neither of them moved. The pressure of mana in the corridor was strange, heavy, as if the very air were waiting for Goliath's decision.
Goliath slowly let the air escape through his nose.
"Then let's go to the end," he said, once again assuming a combat stance. "Even if I have to knock you down more than once."
Alan planted his feet on the cracked floor.
"I can take it," he replied simply.
The air between them seemed to tremble.
Goliath moved first.
His steps were heavy and calculated, yet still fast for someone of his size. He twisted his body and delivered a downward punch, loaded with mana, aiming for Alan's shoulder. The impact landed squarely.
Crack!
Alan was thrown against the wall, feeling the force rip through his body. Something in his shoulder gave way, a sharp pain exploding down his arm.
He dropped to his knees.
Goliath gave him no time.
A kick followed immediately, striking Alan's side and dragging him across the floor.
"You can't just keep getting back up!" Goliath shouted as he advanced.
Alan coughed up blood, the world spinning for a moment.
But then—
The pain began to recede.
The mana moved.
Silent. Persistent.
The dislocated bone slid back into place with a dull crack. Torn muscles rebuilt themselves, burning from the inside, yet obeying that steady flow.
Alan placed a hand on the ground.
And stood up.
Goliath froze for an instant, his eyes widening slightly.
"…again," he murmured.
Alan advanced this time.
Not fast. Not reckless.
He exchanged short blows with Goliath—precise punches and kicks aimed at joints and points of support, forcing the larger body to move more than it wanted to. Even so, every counterattack from Goliath was devastating.
A punch struck Alan's face.
Another hit his abdomen.
A third sent him flying back, opening a deep cut above his eyebrow.
Blood ran down his face.
And then it stopped.
The wound closed before Goliath's eyes.
"Damn it…" He clenched his teeth and pushed even more mana out. "Then I just need to destroy you faster than you can heal!"
Goliath roared and unleashed a brutal barrage of attacks, giving Alan no room to breathe. The floor shook with every impact. Alan was struck, thrown, slammed into walls, his body pushed far beyond its limits again and again.
Ribs broke.
Lungs lost their air.
His vision darkened.
And still—
He stood back up.
Each time slower.
Each time more breathless.
The regeneration worked, but it wasn't instant. It demanded mana. It demanded endurance. It demanded will.
Goliath began to realize it.
Alan's rhythm was changing.
"…so that's it," he said, breathing heavily. "You heal… but you pay the price."
Alan wiped the blood from his chin, even knowing it was already fading away.
"Of course I pay," he replied hoarsely. "But so do you."
He advanced once more.
Now the fight carried a different weight.
Goliath was tiring. His blows were still strong, but no longer as explosive. His raw mana began to falter in the final moments, and Alan exploited every second of it.
A strike to the knee.
A shove to the chest.
A kick to the side when Goliath took too deep a breath.
Alan was hit once more, slammed violently to the ground.
For a full second, he didn't move.
Goliath raised his fist, ready to finish it.
"…is it over?" he murmured.
Alan's body trembled.
The mana answered.
He stood up once again, unsteady, but firm enough to raise his guard.
The two stared at each other, exhausted, covered in the marks of battle.
Goliath was breathing heavily.
So was Alan.
The difference was simple and cruel.
Goliath was reaching his limit.
Alan… could still go on.
"You're too stubborn," Goliath said with a tired half-smile.
Alan took a step forward, even as his body protested.
"No," he replied. "I just refuse to fall."
Alan felt it first as a delay.
It wasn't pain. Nor immediate weakness.
It was time.
When another impact struck his shoulder and he rolled across the ground, the mana took longer to respond. Not much—maybe a second longer than before—but enough for him to notice.
My body is… lagging.
Alan took a deep breath as he stood up once more. The wound closed, yes, but the burning sensation lingered longer. The flow of mana, once constant like a river, now felt irregular, as if passing through shallow stretches.
Goliath noticed it too.
"Finally," he said, his voice heavy and tired. "You're getting slower."
Alan didn't answer right away.
He closed his eyes for a moment and focused. He felt his heart pounding hard, pulling mana with more force than before. He felt the emptiness beginning to form at his core.
If this keeps up… I'll really fall.
When he opened his eyes, his expression had changed.
There was no despair.
There was resolve.
"You're right," Alan said. "My regeneration is slowing down."
Goliath smiled, clenching his fists.
"Then it's over."
Alan took a step forward.
"That's why," he continued, "I can't beat you little by little anymore."
The air around him shifted.
Alan gathered the remaining mana—not to heal himself, not to reinforce his entire body, but for a single purpose. He compressed it deeply, forcing it to circulate in short, intense cycles, condensing everything he had left.
Goliath felt a chill run up his spine.
"That mana…" He grit his teeth. "You're going to spend it all at once?"
Alan planted his feet firmly on the cracked floor.
"Just enough."
Goliath charged with a roar, putting every bit of strength he had left into a final blow. A direct, brutal punch, meant to crush Alan before anything else could happen.
Alan didn't dodge.
At the last instant, he moved forward as well.
The two attacks met.
But Alan wasn't aiming for the fist.
He twisted his body, letting Goliath's punch pass within inches, planted his foot into the ground, and released all the compressed mana in a single motion.
A direct strike to the chest.
Not explosive.
Deep.
Alan's mana didn't push—it pierced through.
Goliath felt the impact ripple through his entire body. The air was ripped from his lungs, his legs lost their strength at once. His body was thrown backward, sliding down the corridor until it collided violently with the opposite wall.
Boom!
Cracks spread like a web.
Goliath dropped to his knees.
He tried to stand.
He couldn't.
The mana that sustained him had collapsed all at once.
Alan remained standing, panting, feeling the emptiness inside him. His regeneration still worked… but now it was slow, weak, almost nonexistent.
He had gambled everything.
And it worked.
Goliath lifted his head with difficulty, staring at Alan for a few seconds before letting out a tired half-laugh.
"…I see," he murmured. "You won… because you knew when to end it."
His body slumped forward, unconscious.
The corridor fell silent.
Alan took a deep breath, leaning against the wall for a moment. His entire body ached now, and this time the mana didn't rush to erase it.
But he was standing.
He had won.
Alan slowly turned toward the door of Mira's room.
"Now…" he murmured to himself. "I can't stop here."
And, gathering what little strength he had left, he took the next step forward.