Chapter 41
Riman swallowed his scream.
Even though healing magic was being cast on him the moment his flesh was torn, the pain still burned fiercely.
He felt like he could pass out at any moment.
The only thing keeping him from losing consciousness was pure instinct — the knowledge that if he fainted now, it would all be over.
If he lost control of his mana even for a second, this demon beast would absorb every bit of it to heal itself.
I have to focus.
He needed something to concentrate on — that was always how Riman solved things.
When faced with pain or hardship, he found something else to focus on and poured everything into it.
Though, admittedly, that tendency had gotten him into this mess.
If I don’t want to pass out now…
His gaze fixed on the red flames before him — a survival instinct more than a conscious choice.
Two forces of mana erupted from a single sword, racing through the air.
The red light was the mana of destruction; the silver light, the mana of restoration.
The mana surged, wove together like vines, and knotted itself into a single flow.
A gust of wind swept through, scattering the woman’s red hair in a brilliant shimmer.
Her silver eyes, filled with an equally dazzling light, reflected the glow of the sword. They were eyes filled with resolve.
She looked so beautiful — as if she might burn away and vanish at any moment.
Like someone not of this world.
While Riman, dazed, focused entirely on Celia, she was facing a struggle of her own.
Damn it.
This was different from when she had dealt with Ingram.
This required far finer control — a delicate balance of precision and concentration.
I can’t even tell if I’m doing it right…
Then, that same golden mana brushed against her again.
“Tower Master.”
The moment it touched her hand, a faint, soothing warmth spread through her.
Celia whispered almost unconsciously.
“…Don’t worry.”
She wouldn’t hesitate anymore.
Her mana condensed, growing stronger and stronger.
A blood-curdling scream echoed nearby — it could’ve been Riman or the beast — but even that sound slowly faded away.
Had the screaming stopped, or was she simply too focused to hear it anymore?
Doesn’t matter.
It wasn’t important.
Her vision narrowed until it felt like only three beings remained in the world — herself, the beast, and Riman.
Each breath in and out carried a faint vibration through her sword.
That was how she knew it was working — the feeling of cutting and mending at once, slicing and stitching, tearing and filling.
The two colors of mana ran in tandem, each restraining the other.
If even one became slightly stronger, the fragile balance would collapse instantly.
The light shimmered around them, brushing against Celia’s hair — an unreal, breathtaking sight.
Thunk.
“Almost there!”
She could feel it — that last cut had severed the final connection.
The moment she pulled Feriet free, sensation flooded back and reality snapped into focus.
The tower was filled with a crimson haze, the air thick with the monster’s screeches and Aclla standing firm behind it.
“Grrrraaaaghhh!”
“Celia…!”
Hearing her name through Riman’s pale, sweat-drenched lips, Celia seized him by the collar.
The beast’s flesh was already trying to reclaim him.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
She shouted, her tone sharp and commanding.
“Riman! Don’t you dare pass out!”
“……!”
With a fierce pull, Riman clenched his teeth again.
The beast’s flesh clung to him, refusing to let go, trying to drag him back in and devour his mana completely.
The muscles twitched and pulsed violently.
Celia’s brow twitched.
“You want to have a contest of strength?”
The beast’s flesh shuddered, writhing as if screaming.
“No one who’s ever challenged me has gone away without regrets,” she muttered with a grin.
“Oh, right. You’re not a person — you’re a monster.”
A test of strength — that was fine by her.
“It’s nice not having to think for once.”
Crack.
If anyone else had heard that sound, they would’ve been horrified — Riman’s body was completely torn free.
Thankfully, he didn’t seem to have any major visible injuries.
Though his mouth hung open in a silent scream — well, after what he’d put her through, he could endure a bit of pain.
At least he was free now.
The beast, robbed of its power source, froze with its jaws wide open.
Celia flung the now-limp Riman toward the Tower Master.
“Tower Master!”
Aclla momentarily lowered her defensive barrier to catch him — just as Riman’s hoarse scream tore through the air.
“Celia!”
“Behind you! Look behind you!”
Something brushed past Celia’s shoulder — a faintly sweet, ashen scent stung her nose.
That…
It was that same liquid from before, still writhing as if alive.
She turned.
The beast was collapsing, stiff and motionless — but from the hole where Riman had been pulled free, that strange liquid was dripping out, glowing like the night sky.
It was grotesque — yet beautiful.
The liquid gathered into one place and touched the tip of Feriet.
Riman’s eyes widened in horror.
“Be careful with that liquid! Don’t let it touch your bare skin!”
“What?”
The next instant, Feriet began to vibrate violently — so much that Celia’s whole body trembled.
“Fer—”
BOOM!
“No!”
Riman’s scream echoed as Celia’s vision went black.
“Celia!”
She wasn’t surprised.
The sensation was oddly familiar — the same as when she cut down a demon beast and glimpsed another world.
But this time, she wasn’t in the tower.
She stood in a vast, pitch-black space.
“You’re trying to use me as your new host?”
Celia muttered softly.
“You think you can swallow my mana?”
If it came to it, she was ready to pour every ounce of her mana outward and make it explode from within.
She’d seen Ilrod do something similar — detonating a beast by overloading it with magic it couldn’t contain.
Overeating always ends badly.
“Go ahead. Try me.”
She waited calmly as incomprehensible whispers surrounded her and the world began to shimmer like a night sky.
She quickly realized it wasn’t the sky — it was the same strange liquid.
With a low hum, her sword vibrated again in her hand.
“With this, I’ll just cut—”
But before she could finish, Feriet fell limply to the ground.
“What the hell…?”
The moment she spoke, the world around her expanded — the darkness peeled away, and once again, that heavy red air rushed in to swallow her.
“……”
She was back on the crimson battlefield — the one she’d just left.
“If this is some kind of cheap trick to mess with me, I’ll give you points for effort…”
“I don’t…”
A voice stopped her. She turned her head.
“…want to.”
Standing there, before the Heart of the Earth, holding Feriet, was Ilrod.
“Ah.”
So that familiar feeling earlier — that was it.
It’s showing me one of Ilrod’s memories again.
But then, Feriet came crashing down toward the heart — and snapped cleanly in two.
His face went pale in an instant.
I know this moment.
It was different from the previous afterimages she’d seen.
He held the broken sword, his hands marked with magical circuit sigils, his clothes impossibly clean despite his haggard face.
“This is that moment…”
The moment when he’d struck her down.
Celia exhaled slowly, as if finally saying aloud what she’d only guessed until now.
“So… once when you died to the Heart, once when you drank from the Source, and now — three times?”
Her silver eyes cooled.
“Only three times to live again…”
Her own voice sounded foreign.
“And you gave up?”
There was no way Ilrod had lived just once.
Then all the fragments she’d seen made sense.
The Ilrod she knew had been gifted since birth, called a swordmaster prodigy at age five.
He wasn’t the type to die like a fool to a surge of magic, or to awaken his mana circuits late in life.
Then those others must have been different versions of him.
Not identical twins — but Ilrods who’d each lived different lives.
The idea was strange, but not hard to reason out.
After all, she herself had inherited his power when she died. That had been the clue.
So, just like her, he must have returned each time he died — retaining all the skills he’d learned — and finally passed that on to her.
Even the power to come back after death.
“But seriously, you idiot… you only managed three runs before giving up?”
She muttered under her breath.
Then, Ilrod — holding the broken sword before the Heart — suddenly turned around.
“……”
Celia’s breath caught.
“Shit.”
Ilrod’s eyes locked directly onto hers.
As if he saw her standing there.
Not just a replayed memory — but something alive. Someone conscious.
