"You... you really are a spirit."
Puck's voice echoed across the charred and shattered front courtyard.
The indifference from before were gone, replaced by the exhaustion of overexertion.
"And a spirit of this level..."
His remaining right eye looked at the humanoid figure that was now far from its previous sweet image. Nai was now only held together by a humanoid shape of eerie, dark flames.
At this moment, Puck's appearance was also wretched in the extreme. That pure white fur was now charred and curled in large patches, as if it had been thrown into a furnace and scorched, emitting a pungent odor. His body was covered in burns and gashes of varying depths.
Most shocking of all was one of his hind legs. From the knee down, it had completely disappeared, the stump showing signs of carbonization and shrinkage from continuous burning.
Even more horrifying was his left eye socket—only a bloody hole remained, clearly a direct hit from those eerie green flames.
The light in his remaining right eye was much dimmer than before, reflecting Nai's silhouette, yet unable to hide the immense fatigue born from the exhaustion of his very essence.
His body swayed slightly, like a candle in the wind. Every breath was accompanied by the dissipation of ice crystals and sparks, as if he might vanish from this physical world at any moment.
However, on the opposite side, Nai's situation could hardly be called easy either.
Even though Puck was unable to exert the full power of the "Beast of the End" due to the constraints of the contract with Emilia, he was still a Great Spirit standing at the apex of the world.
These fifteen minutes of desperate, fierce combat had also been a massive drain on her.
"Truly... truly strong..."
Nai let out a soft breath.
She looked down at her body, which had completely turned into flames, her tone carrying a hint of admiration. "If I had a physical body, I probably would have been completely killed here by you long ago."
Her words revealed the key to why the battle had been so deadlocked and why Puck had found it so difficult to strike.
Her existence took the form of 'fire,' which caused many of Puck's attacks to have their effects greatly reduced.
Even more troublesome was her nearly unsolvable ability. No matter what means Puck employed—extreme freezing, ice explosions, spatial imprisonment—Nai could always, at the moment of being "killed" or heavily injured, turn her body into a mass of eerie green flames and then be reborn from those flames completely unscathed.
Furthermore, with every rebirth, her aura, mana fluctuations, and even her control over the flames would increase slightly.
For Puck, these fifteen minutes were time spent forcibly breaking the contract's shackles to burn his manifestation time. He could already clearly feel his "link" to the physical world becoming fragile at an alarming rate.
"And so..."
Nai tilted her head slightly, her eyes watching the increasingly unstable Puck, her voice remaining sweet.
"After struggling for so long, it's about time to fall, isn't it?"
Puck fell silent.
His remaining right eye slowly closed. He knew the other party was speaking the truth.
Emilia was still alive, and the core shackles of the contract had not been fully released. His current power was still a step away from his true prime. And the time for forced manifestation was running out.
His head lifted slightly, and he exhaled a breath containing the last of his strength. The breath turned into a pale blue ice mist, passing through the scorched earth and ruins, as if carrying a final entrustment and hope.
"Betty."
"Ram."
"The rest... I leave to you."
Puck's pure white body began to rapidly disintegrate from the edges, turning into countless drifting, shimmering ice dust.
Puck's final entrustment caused Nai's movements to pause slightly.
She turned around, a flicker of surprise crossing her eyes.
Behind her, at the edge of the scorched ruins that should have been empty, two figures were now standing quietly.
One was petite, wearing an exquisite dress adorned with ruffles, with a face as delicate as a doll's—Beatrice.
And standing beside Beatrice was Ram. The pink-haired maid, who should have been heavily injured and unconscious—perhaps even in life-threatening danger—from the previous explosion and shockwave, was standing there steadily.
What made Nai's pupils contract even more was the mana fluctuation emanating from Ram—vast and surging like a storm, completely different from before.
Its intensity not only rivaled Puck's pressure from just now, but on some levels, there was a faint sense of it being even greater.
How is that possible?!
Nai knew Ram's previous strength perfectly well. While impressive, it could never have reached this level.
That doll-like girl should be a Great Spirit, right? But her mana isn't as vast as this Oni girl's.
Nai's gaze fixed on Ram's forehead—specifically, the area that was originally covered by her pink bangs, which was now moving, lifting slightly.
There a white horn was emitting a light. The lines of the horn were smooth and elegant, its surface flowing with a soft yet resilient milky-white halo. The aura it emitted was more intense than the light of any oni horn Nai remembered seeing.
It was the symbol of the Oni clan's power, the apex of bloodline and talent.
Even more... Ram had successfully gained preliminary control over it—the horn that belonged to her, which Tsukasa had embedded in her body, along with the principles of Reverse Cursed Technique she had begun to apply as the horn returned.
"..."
Nai was silent for a moment, the playful words no longer flowing from her mouth.
She tilted her head slightly, her gaze sweeping back and forth between the horn on Ram's forehead and her red eyes, which were gradually becoming frenzied.
"Is it because of 'that' on your head?" Her voice was soft, carrying a hint of curiosity.
"Why didn't you use it during the fight earlier? Was it to give me a surprise?"
Facing Nai's probing inquiry, a flash of irritation crossed Ram's red eyes.
"Why do you care so much?! You villains of the Witch Cult..."
She lifted her chin slightly, the light from the horn on her forehead seeming to grow more intense with her fluctuating emotions.
"...should be beaten thoroughly into mincemeat!"
The moment the last word fell, her figure vanished.