A pitch-black storm swept through the grand hall, shaking the area as though an earthquake had struck. When Maxime clutched his chest and collapsed, Theodora immediately stepped in front of him and plunged the Black Wolf Blade into the ground.

Crack, crackle.

The floor began to succumb to the spreading darkness. Pools of shadow devoured the marble of the grand hall, extending their domain. Leon Benning had already been encased, his body wrapped in strands of black silk like a cocoon. Theodora, her blade embedded in the ground, unleashed her aura to its fullest extent. The backlash made Maxime, sheltered behind her, groan softly.

“Hold on, Maxime!” she called out.

Boom!

Platinum wings unfurled behind her, enveloping both Theodora and Maxime. The encroaching dusk signaled the dominance of Leon Benning’s mana, a veil of night that threatened to engulf the world. The ceiling of the grand hall crumbled entirely, revealing the sky above in its full, unbroken expanse. Under the oppressive weight bearing down on her, Theodora managed to lift her head. Beyond her aura, the abyss manifested—a void so absolute it defied even the essence of darkness.

“What… what is that?” Maxime murmured in horror as he took in the scene before him. The void destroyed everything it touched, not simply obliterating but assimilating, making it a part of itself.

Magic? Can something like this even be called magic?

Maxime’s bewildered gaze remained fixed on the incomprehensible phenomenon. The void, initially a perfect sphere, began to twist and distort as if something inside it was attempting to hatch, to break free of its shell.

“It’s changing,” Maxime muttered.

Theodora nodded grimly. From the writhing void emerged a grotesque appendage resembling a human arm. The lower hemisphere of the void began to take on the shape of a tree trunk, sending out root-like structures. These roots, however, were less tree-like and more akin to the tentacles of a cephalopod, splitting into dozens of writhing tendrils. At the top of the sphere, a smaller orb formed, creating the semblance of a human head.

“I see,” a voice rumbled from the smaller orb. Leon Benning’s voice.

The newly formed head sprouted strands of hair, and facial features began to carve themselves into its surface, creating a distorted likeness of Leon’s face.

“Why didn’t I think of this sooner?” he mused aloud, his voice deep and grating, matching his monstrous new form. His laughter was grotesque as he tested his newfound body, each movement shattering pillars and reducing them to rubble.

“I should have considered breaking this prison of mine from the start.”

Leon’s voice carried an intoxicating sense of self-satisfaction. Maxime gritted his teeth and, using White Fang as a crutch, struggled to his feet. Behind him, Theodora folded her wings. Without the protection of her aura, the oppressive force of the massive entity bore down even harder. Maxime winced as the pain in his chest intensified, the battle between the seal and the curse growing fiercer.

“Maxime, stay back,” Theodora ordered, stepping forward. Maxime shook his head defiantly but was soon stopped as Theodora cupped his face, forcing him to look at her.

“This is my fight, something I should have resolved long ago.”

Framed by the abyss, Theodora shone brilliantly. Maxime stared at her, his gaze captivated by the strands of her hair drifting in the air and the slight glimmer of tears in her stormy eyes. A candle in the wind, rather than flicker out, only burned brighter.

She leaned in, her face growing closer. Within the crumbling world, Theodora remained the only vivid figure. Slowly, her lips brushed against his in a fleeting kiss. Her scent lingered faintly, tickling his senses. For a moment, Maxime felt as if he were drifting far away from this world. When she pulled away, Maxime could only watch as Theodora’s figure grew more distant.

“So, leave this to me,” she said softly.

Platinum wings flared wide, and the Black Wolf Blade roared.

“Before you even have a chance to intervene, I’ll finish this.”

Her figure blurred as she charged forward. The black tendrils rushing toward her were severed by streaks of platinum light, dripping ink as they dissolved. Theodora had begun to compress her power, realizing that scattering her aura would only make her more vulnerable to the consuming void.

“Not bad, daughter,” Leon’s voice rumbled, dripping with mockery. Theodora’s expression hardened as the severed tendrils began to regenerate.

“Still, it will take considerable effort to break through this with your aura and sword,” he said, and with that, another wave of tendrils surged toward her.

Boom!

Leon’s taunting words were drowned out as Theodora gritted her teeth and cleaved through the oncoming assault with Black Wolf. Her strikes were precise and fierce, reducing the void-born appendages to ash.

“To prove your vaunted inhumanity,” she snarled, slicing through another tendril.

“How many lives did it take?”

One by one, the tendrils fell. Some disintegrated completely, while others melted and were reabsorbed into the monstrous entity. As Theodora’s platinum aura flared, the tendrils surrounding her began to fall back, unable to approach her radiance.

“Let’s be honest, daughter,” Leon said, his tone laced with cruelty. “I don’t care whether I’ve killed a thousand or ten thousand. I might have aimed for a hundred thousand. If you’re hoping for some shred of guilt from me, you’ll never get it.”

Leon laughed. Theodora stared at him, her gaze laced with steely resolve and murderous intent.

“I never expected anything from you.”

Her blade severed another cluster of tendrils.

“This is my regret. My self-reproach for not realizing what you were sooner.”

As Leon’s attacks grew more ferocious, Theodora’s aura shone brighter, her blade carving a path through the oppressive void.

“I will kill you.”

Keening!

Her platinum aura enveloped the Black Wolf Blade entirely as she slashed at the tendrils forming a barrier around Leon.

Crash!

Theodora’s strike fell just short of breaking through. Gritting her teeth, she blocked a retaliatory strike from the void, refusing to release her grip on her blade.

From behind her, Maxime groaned as he struggled to stand. Blood poured from his mouth as he fought against his failing body, gripping White Fang tightly.

With a final gasp of determination, Maxime forced his mana to rise once more.

Mana gathered in the hollowed remains of Maxime’s heart—a single strand pulled from the fragmented energy within. His heart, split and unsteady, pumped erratically. Yet, with every faltering beat, Maxime took control, weaving the mana into the chaotic network of his veins. One strand at a time, his body screamed as though it were being torn into a thousand, no, ten thousand pieces. His muscles swelled, blood poured from his eyes, and every capillary seemed to burst. His trembling arm gripped White Fang tightly, almost too tightly.

“—!!”

The dull numbness of pain sharpened again, a promising sign. His blurry vision cleared, and Maxime inhaled deeply. The air reeked of iron, filth, and blood. Like a man dragged from the depths of a river, he exhaled forcefully, then drew another breath.

“Ah.”

His body had crossed a point of no return. But it didn’t matter. For now, at least, he could move according to his will. The searing pain subsided to a manageable throb, and Maxime felt the rhythm of his heart. Closing his eyes, he began to circulate his mana slowly.

Won’t you regret this?

The question came, unbidden, from within. He saw himself standing against a dark backdrop, his figure becoming fainter.

Regret.

A tiresome word. This time, however, he had an answer. Maxime shook his head at the faint image of himself. The fading figure seemed to smile faintly.

Regret will no longer hold me back.

Then what are you waiting for?

The voices—his own and others, distinct yet collective—urged him forward.

Move forward.

 

“Bloom.”

Boom!

A gust of wind tore through the hall, distinct from the sickening winds birthed by Leon Benning’s void. Maxime’s eyes glowed gold, their radiance spilling over like beams of light.

“…This is…”

It was a strange feeling. His body felt free, unshackled from the restraints that had always pulled him back. Maxime looked down at himself, his entire body ablaze with an unfamiliar energy. It wasn’t aura, but he knew it was a precursor. He glanced around and realized Leon Benning’s void could no longer approach him.

“Theodora.”

She was still fighting valiantly, fiercely, struggling to break through the dark barrier. Planting his feet firmly, Maxime felt a surge of power coursing through him. How long had it been since he could wield mana so freely? Lowering White Fang, he envisioned his target. The sword technique etched itself into his mind.

High Wind.

Maxime’s form vanished.

Leon Benning laughed—a deep, guttural sound that echoed endlessly within the abyss. Even if this all ended in failure, as long as he could kill them, the existence of Leon Benning would remain victorious. Relishing the thought, he poured his power forth recklessly. Theodora’s sword was indeed strong, but it wasn’t enough to entirely dispel the power of his black magic.

“Yes, this is the purpose of my existence.”

He fought because he could. This power, though destined to be consumed by his greater ennui someday, still surged with vitality. Swinging another mass of tendrils at Theodora, he observed her strike it down effortlessly with a single blow. Yet, the more she destroyed, the fiercer he attacked.

“If she blocks it, I’ll strike harder,” Leon thought with a crooked smile. His strength grew with each passing moment, and he summoned more tendrils from the void. Theodora’s resolute expression finally began to pale. Sensing his imminent victory, Leon prepared one final attack. Gathering his tendrils into a massive cluster, he unleashed their overwhelming might.

Goodbye, daughter. I’m sorry, but I can’t keep my promise to spare you.

Leon raised his fist, ready to strike.

Shhhk.

A soft, slicing sound.

“What?”

For the second time that day, Leon Benning’s voice faltered in confusion. The tendrils he had unleashed were severed in an instant, disintegrating into ash before they could regenerate.

“What is this…?”

Shhhk.

This time, the attack cut directly into the void itself. Leon felt a chilling killing intent and realized Theodora wasn’t the source of it.

“If retreating into your shell is your choice,” came a voice.

Footsteps echoed.

Leon’s pupils trembled. How? How was this possible? In that state, in that agony, how could he be here?

“Then I’ll drag you out and present your wretched face to Theodora myself.”

Maxime stepped forward, blood streaming from his body, surrounded by something akin to aura. Leon’s void couldn’t touch him; instead, it recoiled. White Fang pointed directly at Leon, unwavering.

“You’re persistent.”

Leon buried himself further into the void, summoning tendrils by the hundreds. Two? Three? It didn’t matter. He’d simply crush Maxime with sheer force. Gesturing angrily, Leon directed his attacks toward Maxime and Theodora.

“Pathetic,” Maxime muttered, his voice cutting through Leon’s rage like a blade.

“You’ll regret that,” Leon snarled.

Boom!

Leon imagined Maxime being obliterated, but instead, a deafening screech rang out. A blend of platinum and gold sliced through the void, cutting down the tendrils. Leon’s frustration mounted as he summoned more power.

Boom!

A golden slash severed the tendrils.

Boom!

Platinum wings tore through the void, scattering it. Leon’s expression twisted from frustration to shock as Maxime and Theodora relentlessly advanced.

Shhhk.

Leon roared, his fury and fear spilling over. Tendrils multiplied by the thousands, writhing in a frenzied storm.

Shhhk.

A golden meteor descended, cutting through the void and shattering Leon’s protective shell.

Rip.

His vision cleared, and in its place, Maxime stood before him, bloodied but smiling. Leon froze at the sight of the defiant, golden gaze directed at him. His trembling hands raised his sword instinctively, but Maxime dodged effortlessly.

“You’re not fighting me.”

Maxime stepped aside, revealing the tidal wave of platinum aura surging toward Leon.

“Theodora—!!”

Leon raised his blade, scraping together the remnants of his mana. His aura, however, crumbled at the first clash. He fell to his knees under Theodora’s overwhelming pressure. Her gaze, calm yet cold, bore down on him.

“Don’t look at me like that—!!” Leon roared, swinging his sword wildly. Each strike hit nothing but air.

Crash!

His sword shattered. The impact sent Leon flying into the wall, where he collapsed. Blood gushed from his mouth as he lay immobile, his body broken and trembling. He looked up to see Theodora approaching, her forehead bleeding but her steps steady. Her eyes, devoid of anger, gazed down at him.

“I’m not afraid,” she murmured to herself. Leon’s lips moved, but his words didn’t reach her. She felt the warmth of Maxime’s hand in hers and breathed steadily.

“You’re just another fleeting shadow in my life,” she said coldly, lifting the Black Wolf Blade high.

“Leon Benning. Traitor to the kingdom and regicide.”

Her voice was steady as she delivered the final verdict.

“By the decree of the crown princess, you are hereby sentenced to execution.”

Leon’s eyes widened as the blade descended.

Shhhk.

Leon Benning’s head rolled to the ground.

His lifeless face, frozen in fear, stared into the void. Blood poured from the severed neck, vivid red.

The man who sought to deny all humanity had been denied himself. Thus ended the life of Leon Benning.

 

…Maxime.”

How much time had passed? Theodora turned to look at him. Maxime stood upright, his expression calm, yet he looked like a corpse drained of all life. His face was deathly pale, and he was still losing blood at an alarming rate. His chest, with its gaping wound, remained exposed. His internal organs were likely ruined, shredded by the mana he had forced through his body. A body that could fail him at any moment. Despite it all, Maxime smiled faintly.

Theodora clenched her fists, fighting back the tears welling up in her eyes. She couldn’t let him see her cry—not after he had endured so much just to avoid making her sad.

“Well done,” she said softly.
“You…”

Before Maxime could respond, his body collapsed forward. Theodora lunged to catch him, cradling his falling form in her arms.

“No, Maxime. No, don’t do this,” she pleaded.

His breathing was shallow, his life slipping away with every passing second. Theodora’s voice trembled as she called out to him, her words desperate to keep him anchored to the world. Maxime, looking up at her face, saw the effort she was putting into holding back her tears.

She’s trying so hard.

Maxime let out a weak chuckle.

“Theodora. Thank you.”

He could feel the strength leaving his body, little by little. Theodora’s voice was still there, urging him to stay, fighting against the inevitable. Was it too late? Maxime raised his hand and placed it gently against Theodora’s face. The soft warmth of her cheek met his trembling fingertips. He could also feel the warmth of her hand as it covered his, trying to hold him there.

Theodora opened her mouth to speak again, but her words were lost as a cold droplet fell onto the back of his hand. Tears. His vision blurred further, the world fading into a haze. Still, Maxime didn’t take his eyes off her.

I’m glad the last thing I see is your face.

He didn’t say it aloud. If he did, he knew she would cry openly.

Did I set you free?

The question lingered in his mind as his breathing slowed. The world around him grew quieter, distant.

The last thing Maxime heard before the silence took him was the sound of a large door slamming open and someone rushing toward them.