The following week passed in a strange, almost fragile state of anticipation.
Scarlett began to put weight on her leg little by little. First-careful squats, stretching, walking around the room. Then-short jogs outside during the day, along a safe stretch near the door. I watched her every move, noting where she winced, where she slowed down.
"Don't look at me like I'm about to fall apart," she snorted one day.
"I'm assessing the risks."
"I'm your ally. Don't you trust me enough already to entrust your life to me?"
I nodded. But I kept watching.
I myself spent more time indoors these days. Conserving my strength. Summoning Noctis Terror and practicing my moves.
The sword felt different from the training blades at the academy. It was lighter, yet denser. As if its weight were concentrated not in the metal, but in intent. The blade responded to thought faster than to the movement of my hand.
I took a step, swung, and twisted my torso.
With each move, I realized that what we'd been taught hadn't been in vain.
Come to think of it, the academy's idea of making us study everything under the sun-from hand-to-hand combat to spears, axes, and swords-didn't seem so pointless now. We hadn't become masters of anything. But we knew the basics. We understood the principles of distance and balance.
And then a memory washed over me.
----------------------------------------------------------
The Academy. End of the first year.
Ranking of the top cadets.
I'm second.
Right ahead of me-she's there.
Scarlett.
For the entire first half of the year, they drilled us in hand-to-hand combat. Endurance, stances, core work. Then we moved on to bladed weapons. Knives. Spears. Axes. And, of course, swords.
The basics of fencing took up almost a third of the schedule.
"No one knows what awaits you inside the Spire," the instructors repeated. "That's why you must know everything."
I stood alone in the training hall. Almost lights out. The lamps on the ceiling hummed with steady light.
Another swing of the training sword.
Step forward. Downward strike. Turn. Block an imaginary attack.
"Your swing is too wide."
I froze.
The voice was familiar.
I turned around.
Scarlett was standing at the entrance to the hall, her shoulder resting against the wall. Her hair was pulled back into a high ponytail, her training uniform without a single wrinkle.
"You're leaving your right side open," she added calmly.
"The instructor didn't say that," I replied.
"The instructor watches everyone. I'm watching you."
I snorted.
"Don't you have anything better to do?"
She pushed off the wall and stepped closer.
"Sparring."
I shook my head.
"They'll have us facing off against each other in class tomorrow anyway."
"It's not a fight when there's supervision," she said quietly. "It's just an exercise."
I shrugged.
"So what?"
"I want to see if I can beat you when you're not restricted by the rules."
I snorted.
"You think I'd fight any differently?"
She smiled.
"I hope so."
We stared at each other for a few seconds.
Then I picked up the training sword.
"Alright."
She took a second one from the rack. She stood across from me.
The distance was three steps.
Her stance was cleaner. Her center of gravity was lower. Her elbows were closer to her torso.
I noted this automatically.
"Ready?" she asked.
"Always."
She attacked first.
A sharp step forward. A feint from above-and an instant transition to a horizontal strike to the ribs.
I managed to block with my blade. Wood clattered against wood.
She didn't stop.
A change of angle. A thrust to the shoulder.
I parry. I retreat half a step.
She presses forward.
Scarlett always fought aggressively. She left no pauses. She forced me to defend.
I fell back into a tight defense, analyzing the rhythm.
Three quick strikes-pause-step.
Three more.
On the fourth series, I didn't block the third strike.
I shifted to the side sooner than she expected and let her blade pass by my shoulder.
We ended up too close.
I tried to counterattack at her torso, but she twisted her wrist and parried my sword with her guard.
"Too slow," she snapped.
I smirked.
"Really?"
She went on the offensive again.
This time with a feint in her feet-a step to the left, a lunge to the right. The blade came down from above, aiming for my collarbone.
I took the blow at an angle, but I could feel it-she had more strength than she let on.
She's pushing through.
I push off with my foot, breaking the distance.
Now it's my turn.
I feigned a straight thrust to the chest.
As expected, she shifted to the right, preparing to block.
At the last moment, I redirected the strike downward-toward her thigh.
She managed to parry, but lost her balance for a split second.
There it is-her rhythm.
When she defends, she always brings her sword back up slightly higher than necessary.
I'd noticed this during training.
The next attack was hers-a series of quick horizontal strikes.
The first-a block.
The second-a dodge.
The third-I deliberately parried harder than necessary, exposing my right side.
She took the bait.
An instant lunge into the open space.
And at that moment, I stepped forward instead of back.
Our blades clashed too close to her guard. I twisted my wrist, knocking her sword downward, and at the same time thrust my shoulder into her side.
She lost her balance.
I took half a step back, swung my blade, and held it to her throat.
Silence.
We stood like that for a few seconds.
Her breathing was rapid, but her gaze was calm.
"Clever," she said at last.
"Observant," I replied.
She lowered her sword first.
"You left yourself open on purpose."
"Yes."
"And you knew I'd go there."
"Yes."
She looked at me for another second, then smiled unexpectedly.
"Interesting."
"What?"
"You're not stronger than me," she said. "But you think otherwise."
I shrugged.
We went our separate ways, returning our swords to the rack.
Before leaving, she stopped.
"Next time, I won't fall for it."
"Then I'll have to come up with something new."
She nodded.
"I'll be waiting."
----------------------------------------------------------
I blinked, snapping back to the present.
The black blade of the Noctis Terror hummed softly in my hand.
Back then, I won through cunning.
Now… perhaps that's all I have left.
I swung again.
And I thought that if we managed to pit the two monsters against each other, it would be the most important battle of my life.
Three more days passed.
We were no longer putting off the inevitable.
Scarlett was already walking confidently, running short distances, and making sharp turns. A slight stiffness remained, but it was nothing compared to how she'd been at the beginning.
On the fourth morning, we woke up with the same thought.
Tomorrow.
We didn't say it out loud right away. We just started getting ready.
The day was spent getting ready and chatting about nothing in particular.
We checked that my boots were secure. We adjusted my clothes so nothing would snag. I rebandaged my arm-the stump wasn't bleeding anymore; the wound had healed faster than it should have.
Too fast.
I'd noticed it a couple of days ago, but now I said it out loud
"Your leg healed abnormally fast."
Scarlett nodded, as if she'd been waiting for that.
"I wanted to talk about that."
She sat down across from me.
"On the first day, when we got here… do you remember that pain?"
"Metamorphosis," I said quietly.
She flinched.
"Is that what you called it, too?"
"That's the word that popped into my head."
She lowered her gaze to her palms.
"When it all started, it felt like my bones were breaking from the inside. Like my muscles were being rewired. And then… it got easier. Much easier."
I listened intently.
"And also," she continued, "I saw something like an interface. Labels, statuses, essences, descriptions."
I exhaled slowly.
"I had the same thing."
She looked up.
"So it's not a hallucination."
"It doesn't seem to be."
We were silent for a while, processing it all.
"Do you think it's… magic?" she asked finally.
I smiled.
"Like in fantasy."
"We're literally in a fantasy, Oscar."
Fair enough.
We decided to test it.
The experiments turned out… pathetic.
Scarlett held her palm out in front of her, concentrating, trying to "feel the flow." I closed my eyes, imagining energy moving through my body toward my hand.
Nothing.
Then I tried to summon the sword not through thought, but through a "sense of power."
The sword appeared.
But it was the same as before-just an intention.
"Maybe mana is spent automatically?" she suggested.
"Or it's activated by something specific."
Scarlett frowned.
"More likely, we just don't understand how it works."
I lowered the blade back into nothingness.
"For now, all we have is our bodies, our brains, and this sword."
She smiled.
"Not a bad starter kit."
As evening approached, the conversation grew quieter.
We no longer discussed the details of the plan-we'd already gone over them dozens of times.
I'm heading toward the one on the left. I'll provoke it. I'll run to the right, roughly where I found the second monster.
Scarlett is heading toward the one on the right. She'll do the same.
Time is the key variable.
Make a mistake-and we'll both be left alone with something that can't be killed.
We sat at the table, but barely ate.
"Are you scared?" she asked suddenly.
I didn't lie.
"Yes."
She nodded.
"Me too."
Silence.
"If I don't make it…" she began.
"You will," I interrupted.
She looked me straight in the eyes.
"Oscar. If something goes wrong, don't come back for me."
I felt something tighten inside me.
"If something goes wrong, we'll both die."
"I'm serious."
"So am I."
We stared at each other for several long seconds.
Our trust was forced.
We hadn't chosen to end up together in this place.
But two weeks in a confined space, pain, blood, fear, and shared decisions had done their work.
It was more than just an alliance of necessity.
"All right," she said quietly at last. "Then just don't screw up."
"Same goes for you."
We got up.
We checked our gear one last time.
Outside, night was slowly falling.
The irony was that now we were the ones waiting for it.
I walked up to the door.
Scarlett stood beside me.
"From this moment on," I said quietly, "everything hangs by a thread."
She nodded.
"But we decided to pull it ourselves."
I breathed in the cold air that was beginning to seep through the cracks.
"Ready?"
"Yes, Oscar."
I opened the door.
Cold and darkness met us in silence.
From this moment on, the operation began.
The cold hit my face like a slap.
Night had fully taken hold. The wasteland seemed scorched from within-not a sound, not a movement, only thick darkness and the faint, lifeless light that served as the moon here.
We didn't waste any time.
"Once we provoke them, we meet in the center, and after they clash, we run back to one of the crevices," I repeated quietly.
"And we don't slow down," Scarlett added.
"Not for a second."
We exchanged glances.
Just a brief nod.
And we went our separate ways.
The descent to the left ravine seemed longer than usual.
Every step echoed in my temples. I counted my breaths, controlled my pace. I had to save my strength for the run.
When the narrow stone walls of the crevice came into view ahead, I slowed down.
He was there.
Six meters of white fur.
Its worm-like face slowly rotated, as if sucking in the night itself.
I stepped forward, deliberately making a loud crunch in the snow.
The snow crunched.
No reaction.
Another step.
I drew Noktis Terror.
The black blade quietly flashed with sparks.
And at that moment, the space in front of the creature warped.
The funnel of teeth stopped.
It turned.
I felt something heavy and cold staring straight at me.
My instinct screamed: run.
But I needed to do more.
I lunged forward and struck the rock beside it.
The blade struck sparks.
A dull metallic screech echoed through the gorge.
The creature twitched.
And took a step.
The mountain trembled.
I spun around and ran.
Not up the trail.
Sharply to the side, toward the exit of the gorge.
Behind me came a sound that could be mistaken for nothing else-the massive body had started moving.
Rock cracked.
Snow flew into the air.
It was coming after me.
Fast.
Too fast.
I burst out of the crevice into the open and, without slowing down, turned right.
Toward Scarlett.
Come on… come on…
I was running, essentially, at random, but I could feel the path I was taking.
Every turn, every rock-it was as if I'd run this path dozens of times before.
A roar sounded behind me-not a sound, but a pressure, as if reality itself were bending.
It was closer.
Too close.
I didn't look back.
If I stumbled-it would be over.
A dark silhouette appeared ahead.
A figure.
Running toward me.
"Oscar!" Scarlett shouted.
"Don't stop!" I barked.
Hooves thundered behind her.
The ground was already shaking on both sides.
We were closing in on each other.
The world narrowed to a narrow corridor between two monsters.
A second.
Another.
I saw a huge axe swing up behind her shoulder.
She saw a white mass of fur and teeth rising above my head.
"Now!" I shouted.
At the last moment, we scattered to the sides.
I jumped to the left.
She jumped to the right.
And the two monsters, charging at full speed, saw each other too late.
The impact was like an explosion.
The air tightened.
Rocks flew everywhere.
A white figure crashed into the hooved giant.
The axe flashed, slicing through flesh.
A whirlwind of teeth sank into the enemy's shoulder.
A roar tore through the night.
I rolled across the snow, leaping to my feet.
Scarlett was already beside me, breathing heavily.
We didn't look at each other.
We looked at them.
Two anomalies.
Two forces not meant to exist side by side.
And now they were tearing each other apart.
The two monsters collided like converging avalanches.
The white carcass struck first-a mass of fur and a spinning, tooth-filled funnel slammed into the chest of the hooved giant. The blow was so powerful that the air around us swelled and contracted, as if an invisible wave had rolled down the slope.
The hooved creature staggered back a step but did not fall.
His mangled face twitched, and the axe traced a wide arc. The blade sank into the white monster's side, tearing through flesh and fur. A dark, thick liquid gushed from the wound, almost black in the night.
The white one responded not with a blow-but with pressure.
The funnel of teeth widened, and the space around it seemed to begin pulling inward. Rocks were torn from the ground, snow swirled into the air, and small debris vanished into the black maw.
The hooved giant roared-low and vibrating-and struck with his axe right at the center of the funnel.
There was a sound like metal shattering glass.
And then the real madness began.
The white monster leaped forward, wrapping its massive body around its opponent. The toothy wormhole clamped onto the hooved creature's shoulder, tearing out chunks of flesh with a crunch.
The hooved creature roared and, ignoring the torn flesh, drove the axe deeper-almost to the hilt.
They grappled, tearing at each other with a fury that contained neither tactics nor fear-only a primal desire to destroy.
And then the white one raised its head.
The funnel of teeth opened wider than before.
I felt it before I understood it.
Cold.
Not the kind from outside.
Internal.
As if someone's icy hand had clenched my heart.
The world grew dark at the edges. Sound vanished.
I couldn't move.
At all.
Fear… no-horror, devoid of form. As if the very thought of resistance had been erased.
Beside me, Scarlett froze in the same position, her eyes wide open, her pupils dilated to the limit.
The white monster wasn't just tearing flesh-it was shattering minds.
I saw the Hoofed One stagger under the pressure. His axe dropped for a split second. Long enough for the funnel of teeth to sink deeper.
But the Hoofed One didn't collapse.
A sound burst from his mangled face-not a scream, but something lower.
He stepped forward.
And struck again.
This time at his opponent's leg.
The blade sliced through the joint. The white mass twitched.
Another blow.
And another.
Until nothing remained of the white monster's left leg but a mangled mess.
The funnel of teeth trembled; the mental pressure became unbearable.
I felt something crack inside me.
Move.
My body wouldn't obey.
The white monster tried to retreat, but with only one leg, it was impossible. The hooved beast took advantage of this-with a powerful swing of his axe, he split his opponent's body almost in two.
The roar cut off.
The gaping maw snapped shut.
The pressure vanished.
I collapsed to my knees, gasping for air.
Reality snapped back into focus.
The victor stood before me.
The hooved giant.
His left leg was almost completely destroyed-only ragged shreds remained below the hip. Black fluid dripped onto the snow.
But he stood.
And turned toward me.
Wet, raspy sounds escaped from his mangled face.
He took a step.
And another.
Despite the loss of his leg, he moved incredibly fast, compensating for the loss of strength with a monstrous thrust from his single hoof.
"Fuck…" I exhaled.
Run.
There was no other choice.
I dashed toward the nearest tree-a short one, barely taller than the monster itself. It stood off to the side, its trunk straight, its branches sturdy.
There.
A crash rang out behind me.
It was catching up to me faster than I'd expected.
My lungs were burning. The cold air cut into my chest like knives. My feet slipped on the snow.
I didn't look back.
A blow.
The axe plunged into the ground behind me.
A shockwave rippled through the air, like a hammer striking a drumhead.
I was thrown forward.
I slammed into the tree trunk.
Something cracked in my chest.
The pain was white, blinding.
Ribs.
Several-for sure.
But the adrenaline drowned it out in a blaze of fire.
I coughed, tasting salt in my mouth.
Not now.
I clung to the bark and began to climb.
Every movement sent a sharp pain through my chest. I couldn't breathe. My fingers slipped.
A branch. Another one. Higher up.
The monster approached the tree.
Its breath was wet and heavy.
I made it to the top.
It raised its head.
And at that moment, I jumped.
A couple of meters down.
I fell right on top of him.
I slammed into his shoulders, clinging to the hideous growths covering his neck and head. They were slimy, uneven, like overgrown tumors.
The skin beneath them was hot.
I summoned Noctis Terror.
And plunged it into his neck.
The blade went in deep.
The monster roared.
It didn't die.
It began shaking its head wildly, trying to throw me off. The world spun. The sky, the snow, the dark mass-everything blurred together.
I clung to one of the growths even tighter.
It burned my palms like acid.
The skin on my hands felt like it was dissolving.
The pain was so intense that tears streamed down my face.
But I couldn't let go.
If I fell, it would be the end.
I yanked the sword out of its neck.
I gathered what little strength I had left.
And drove the blade into the spot where a human's brain should be.
Deeper.
More.
All the way in.
The monster howled, the sound tearing through the night.
It thrashed about for a few more seconds, trying to reach me.
Then its legs-or rather, its leg-gave way.
We crashed down together.
A fall from a height of nearly five meters.
I hit my back on a rock.
Something cracked inside my chest once more.
The air was completely knocked out of my lungs.
I lay there, staring at the sky.
The taste of blood in my mouth.
Salty. Warm.
The monster next to me was still twitching.
Then it went still.
Silence.
You have killed the newborn king.
You have bestowed a new epithet.
The starlight blurred.
My eyes closed of their own accord.
My last thought was not of pain.
Did I do the right thing?
Darkness engulfed me.