The blue flames that had spread around Roan did not go out.
The fire was still burning something.
Maho gritted his teeth.
“That vaunted space folding of yours.”
“Try it.”
The end of his words flicked out like a sneer.
“It’s not working so well, is it?”
Roan did not answer.
He simply stared straight at Maho.
Maho continued in a low voice.
“It’s not as if I spent all my time just chasing after your tail.”
The blue flames crackled, licking at the space around Roan.
Things unseen wavered, as if revealed by the fire, then vanished.
“Your Mirkin… only works after you’ve placed space under your control.”
“If that control is shaken, your ‘folding’ comes up empty-handed.”
Maho focused his mind on his right arm.
The blue flames deepened, as if even the air were being pressed down and seared in place.
“My blue fire burns ‘will.’”
Maho slowly exhaled.
His words settled on the ground like law.
“As long as these flames burn, you can’t escape.”
A brief silence flowed between them.
Maho spoke as though sighing.
“You really have no intention of stopping?”
Roan looked at Maho for a long while,
then finally opened his mouth.
“…You.”
“You could never understand.”
Maho looked up at the sky.
The blue flames were reflected in his eyes.
“…Is that so.”
Maho lowered his gaze.
That gaze aimed itself at Roan once more.
“So there’s no talking to you after all.”
He took one step closer.
Then he said curtly,
“You know this, Roan.”
The corner of Maho’s mouth lifted ever so slightly.
It was not a smile, but certainty.
“Since we were kids, you’ve never beaten me once.”
Thwack!
Maho closed the distance in an instant.
His burning right fist struck Roan square in the jaw.
But the moment the fist connected,
Roan moved his body in that same direction.
Though he had been hit, it was a movement that “let it flow past.”
Maho clicked his tongue.
“Tch… right.”
“That was your specialty.”
Grab.
This time, Maho seized Roan by the collar with his left hand.
His grip tightened.
Roan’s body was dragged forward as it was.
Maho slammed him down into the ground.
Boom!
Dust burst up.
The blue flames shuddered, then blazed again.
Maho said coldly,
“You can’t dodge anymore.”
Thud.
Maho pinned Roan to the ground and climbed atop his torso.
Thwack.
Thwack, thwack.
Each time his fist descended, the earth trembled.
Though it was soil rather than stone, the impact spread outward, as if shaking all the way to the far end of the village.
The screams of the people standing at a distance cut off.
Someone collapsed where they stood, and someone else stumbled backward and fell.
Maho’s right arm.
The arm made of blue flame crackled as it drove down.
The fire did not spread.
Rather, it was firm, like a fist with a distinct “shape,”
crushing into Roan’s face, jaw, and ribs.
Roan did not resist.
He did not block.
He simply took the blows.
His lip split.
Red trickled down along his jawline.
Roan lifted his head by the slightest degree.
Between his split lips, a breath escaped like the sound of air leaking out.
“Maho….”
That single name
held Maho’s fist for a moment.
Roan continued.
“You… are trying to kill me, aren’t you?”
Maho lowered his gaze.
The blue flames were reflected in his eyes.
Those eyes did not waver.
“Yes.”
“I’ll grant you eternal rest with my own hands instead.”
Maho swallowed a short breath.
“I wanted to burn you… but for now, this is the only way.”
With a face that could not even smile, Roan gave a very small nod.
“I see.”
“Then I’ll die by your hand.”
Roan’s voice sank even lower.
“But… not now.”
The moment those words ended,
Roan’s eyes were dyed violet.
It was not light, but a “grain.”
Cold as moonlight, lines of orderly law turned within his pupils.
And—
black energy began to wrap around Roan’s body.
It did not spread like smoke.
Like a membrane covering his skin, binding his bones, trapping his breath.
It looked as though Roan’s very form had gained another layer.
With blood on his lips, Roan spoke.
“I know very well that your fire burns will.”
The black energy deepened.
“But… it cannot burn the ‘power of a god.’”
Maho’s brow furrowed.
He drove his fist down again.
Tap.
Roan’s hand, wrapped in black energy, caught Maho’s fist.
It was not only his fist that stopped.
Maho’s entire body stiffened, as though it had been seized for one brief moment.
“Urgh… what—?”
From the hand caught in Roan’s grasp, “something” flowed in.
Cold.
Orderly.
Without even a chance to reject it, it seeped into the inside of Maho’s arm.
The power of the moon.
That power “saw” Maho’s blue flames.
The blue fire was originally an awakened power created by twisting law.
And so, all the more easily, the moon’s law interfered.
Crackle, crackle.
The blue flames wavered—
and their color changed.
The blue light flipped red in an instant.
Into a raging blaze.
It was no longer fire that burned “will,”
but a great flame that simply devoured everything.
Fwoosh—!
Red fire bursting from Maho’s arm swallowed even the blue flames that remained around them.
The small, orderly flames all at once became a boiling conflagration and exploded.
The ground burned away.
The air twisted.
The soil split black,
and grass and trees collapsed into ash in an instant.
Maho instinctively shook off the hand.
Tap!
His body flew backward.
The moment he kicked off the ground to widen the distance, the earth beneath his feet lurched.
Maho gritted his teeth.
He tried to make the fire “blue” again.
He tried to twist the law once more and return it to its blue form.
But—
the power of the moon that had seeped into his body
forcibly established a “law.”
The grain of fire that Maho had so familiarly turned was blocked.
The blue fire could not return, and only a violent blaze remained.
The larger the flames grew, the more dangerous they became.
They burned more, revealed more, destroyed more.
Roan slowly rose to his feet.
The black energy did not leave his body.
His violet eyes glared coldly at Maho.
“When everything is over… I will let you kill me.”
For the first time, “emotion” was mixed into those words.
An emotion that might have been lingering attachment, obsession, or perhaps a promise.
“But until then, don’t get in my way.”
Maho gritted his teeth.
“…Damn it… Roan…!”
Roan raised his hand.
A tiny motion, as though “pressing” the air.
Bzzzt.
The space around Maho’s leg twisted.
It was not the pain of flesh being torn,
but the pain of a joint “folding into a different position.”
“Urgh…!”
Maho dropped one knee to the ground.
The earth shook.
At that moment,
Maho understood at once.
This was not a broken bone.
Space had warped, and his leg had been placed “warped” along with it.
Roan lowered his hand and added,
“If it’s you, you’ll recover from that much soon enough.”
He took one step back.
The black energy pressed down on the surrounding air.
“Don’t interfere anymore.”
“You alone… I do not want to kill with my own hands.”
Maho’s breathing grew rough.
His eyes tried to burn blue, but the fire still flickered violently.
The space around Roan crumpled.
Reality bent once, like paper being folded.
And—
Roan vanished.
What remained
was scorched earth.
The smell of shattered soil.
And Maho, clutching his twisted leg.
Maho gritted his teeth.
“Damn it….”
Crackle.
The shape of his leg unraveled into flame.
Bone, flesh, muscle.
For a moment, all of it disappeared.
And Maho
fitted that form of fire back into its “original leg.”
The moment the fire took shape, pain surged over him once more.
Maho gritted his teeth and endured.
As the flames subsided, his leg returned to its proper form.
Maho gasped for breath.
His fingertips trembled.
He looked up at the sky.
The moon must have been shining somewhere,
but right now, its light did not enter his eyes.
Maho murmured lowly,
“…Raen.”
And the next moment,
he turned his direction.
Flame leapt once beneath his feet, then went out.
Maho no longer remained there.
The place he had to protect
had already been decided.
—
The Arku Council meeting room.
The chairman struck the table.
“We will proceed to a vote.”
The scribe nodded and opened the record.
The chairman lifted one agenda sheet.
“Agenda item. Dispatching an envoy to the Duchy of Carmen.”
A brief silence.
And then—
the vote.
Hands rose,
hands lowered,
and the scribe’s pen moved quickly.
The chairman declared the conclusion.
“Passed.”
“The dispatch of an envoy to the Duchy of Carmen has been approved.”
The air in the meeting room loosened faintly.
But relief did not linger long.
The chairman continued.
“We will examine the composition of the envoy more closely tomorrow.”
He moved immediately to the next agenda item.
“Then, next.”
“What is the status of the Provisional Security Cooperation Corps?”
Raymon rose from his seat and answered dryly.
“All members have completed registration.”
“Wooden plaques have been distributed. Weapons storage has also begun.”
He chose his words for a moment, then added,
“However, the facilities in the protected area require repairs.”
“The area has been temporarily sectioned off, but it is insufficient to withstand rain and wind.”
“Until tonight, only the minimum structure will be maintained.”
The chairman nodded.
“Good.”
The chairman turned over another document.
“Then, as we decided earlier.”
“Tomorrow, as soon as day breaks, convey this to them.”
Looking straight at Raymon,
he nailed each sentence down clearly.
“As escorts for the envoy to the Duchy of Carmen,”
“we request the support of the Security Cooperation Corps.”
Someone in the meeting room drew in a small breath.
It was called a “request,”
but in truth, it was a “plea close to an order.”
Raymon answered shortly.
“Understood.”
The chairman gestured to the scribe.
The scribe immediately took out a sealed document.
A thick bundle of papers.
It was bound with string, and a seal had been stamped upon it.
Raymon stepped forward and accepted it.
A heavy weight settled into his fingertips.
Not the weight of documents,
but the weight of a decision.
The chairman spoke for the last time.
“That is all.”
“Today’s meeting is adjourned.”
Tap.
The chairman’s hand came down on the table.
The councilors rose from their seats one by one.
Raymon placed the sealed document into his breast.
Then he stopped for a moment,
and suddenly looked at the darkness beyond the window frame.
Tomorrow morning.
When the sun rose,
this paper would become “words.”
Raymon moved his feet.
The meeting room door opened,
and the lamp at the end of the corridor flickered.