“You… sent… him… to his death.”
Zeke turned his head, glancing at the talkative Blood-Shade before returning his gaze to the battlefield.
Vulcanos had not questioned his orders at all. He had stepped right into the path of the approaching troop.
“I have faith,” Zeke said eventually.
“Faith…” the Shade repeated, as if tasting the word. “Like… you had… in us?”
Zeke chuckled. “Don’t flatter yourself. I really was sending you to your death.”
“Why… would we… die for you?”
Zeke glanced over again.
He was beginning to think the reason it kept talking to him wasn’t just idle curiosity or a desire to debate philosophy. He had to remind himself that, for all its intellect, this being was less than a day old.
“Why wouldn’t you?” Zeke replied, willing to try once more to come to an understanding with his creation. “For your kind, death is already a certainty. The only thing you can decide is how to spend the little time you have.”
The Shade remained silent for an instant, seemingly pondering his answer.
“Is that… not the same… for you?”
Zeke hesitated.
He wanted to reject the comparison immediately.
It was different. It had to be different.
Except it wasn’t.
Sure, his Blood-Shades could only remain alive for a couple of hours before their energy ran out, but did that mean they didn’t cherish that time? Was a life worth less simply because its lifespan was shorter?
The answer was no.
If anything, time became infinitely more precious the less of it there was. A man who had only a year to live would cherish every day.
Then what about these creatures, who had only a few hours? Creatures who could think, question, resent, bargain, and fear? How much would they cherish every moment?
Zeke shook his head in dismay.
He had been foolish.
When designing his spell, he had accounted for everything except the most fundamental principle of life.
It was truly the work of a madman. To create a living being for the sole purpose of spending its life in battle, then act surprised when it wanted that life to mean something.
Had he really sunk that low?
War might be the mother of invention, but it was most certainly also the father of cruelty.
He had to admit it.
As a weapon, his spell had exceeded every expectation.
As a creation, it was a complete failure.
Born from a recent breakthrough in magical theory and fueled by his desperate desire for a meaningful trump card, the idea was flawed on such a fundamental level that he didn’t even know how to go about fixing it.
All he could really do was…
“I guess you are right.”
…admit his mistake.
The Shade continued to stare at him for a long while before speaking again.
“You are… a strange being...”
Then, without commenting any further, it turned its gaze back toward the battlefield, where something seemed to be happening.
Zeke also focused on that scene.
The Archmage, using her [Feuerkranz], was compressing the flames of her followers into a sphere. Its heat and brightness were so immense that it almost appeared as if someone had crushed a sunrise into the space between her palms.
Zeke’s brows began to furrow.
This was a problem.
Vulcanos could consume flames. He could endure heat that would reduce most creatures to ash. He was, by his very nature, a natural enemy to Fire Mages.
But absorption had a rate.
Immunity had a threshold.
And the thing forming below was far beyond both.
If such a concentrated, densely compressed flame struck him, it would turn him to ash before he could even siphon off a single layer.
Truly, nobody who had reached the level of Archmage had done so by relying on brute force alone.
“Do you… still have… faith?” the Shade asked all of a sudden.
Zeke eyed the condensed sphere one more time before focusing his gaze on Vulcanos.
There was no trace of fear on his face. Not a sign of wavering. Only a single-minded determination that seemed to grow stronger with every moment.
“I do.”
“He is… different from… us,” the Shade said. “I feel… the same blood… in his veins… And yet… you treat him… differently.”
Ah, the Shade must have felt the Dragon Blood inside Vulcanos.
Was that why it was so curious about him?
Zeke hesitated.
He was tempted to lie, or at least not reveal the truth. After all, the truth in this matter was an ugly thing. However, something inside him told him not to hide anything.
“He is a friend,” Zeke said eventually. “He is somebody who has followed me through thick and thin, stood by my side when nobody else would.”
“And… what… am I?”
Zeke kept his eyes fixed on the scene below as he answered.
“You are an experiment, born out of necessity and desperation.”
For a moment, the Shade said nothing at all.
“I… see…”
There was no more time.
Vulcanos suddenly started a mad charge. His goal seemed to be the very orb the woman had conjured.
At the same moment, the orb sailed out, meeting the Chimeroi halfway.
Zeke watched as Vulcanos stretched his arms wide, fiery veins blazing to an unnatural degree. Then, at the very last moment, he slung his arms around it, as if he intended to hug the orb.
Zeke felt his fists clench at his sides.
Vulcanos’s body was slowly coming apart. Skin peeled away. Fiery cracks widened. Piece by piece, he disintegrated beneath the weight of the spell.
And still, he stood between his friends and danger.
Once again.
***
Pain.
Incredible, bone-searing pain.
Vulcanos had never known that heat could feel so uncomfortable. In his entire life, he had never once associated such torment with the presence of flame. It was as disorienting as it was painful. As if hugging a lover, but instead of bliss, all he could feel was heartbreak.
Vaguely, he was aware that he was being pushed back. That his skin was burning. That his muscles were failing. Of the bestial roar that had torn itself from his throat.
And yet, it was incredibly easy to ignore all of it.
The pain. The confusion. Everything.
All he cared about were the rushing waves of searing hot blood in his ears.
Blood Boil.
What a fitting name.
It was a technique that harnessed Mana in a way incomparable to other meditation techniques. The closer he came to death, the deeper he immersed himself in it, the faster it operated.
Naturally, even that had limits.
Birth.
Blood.
Purity.
Those things decided how far a body could be pushed before it broke. Only Purebloods such as Snow and Zelkara could hope to rise above such boundaries.
But Vulcanos was no Pureblood. He didn’t need to look further than his own monstrous appearance to know that much.
No matter what, there was no escaping the circumstances of his birth.
But so what?
As long as there was even an ounce of strength left in his body, a flicker of will left in his heart, that was how long he would continue.
And so, he did the only thing he could. He ate.
Even while his skin turned to ash, even when his fingers became stumps, even when his ribs started to show, he continued to eat.
Because, beyond the pain and loss, he could feel something else.
His Heartflame, the essence of his existence, was growing.
Even now, with his body in shambles, his Flame was growing at an unprecedented rate.
Vulcanos wound his arms tighter around the sphere, using what little flesh he had left to press even more of himself against the searing orb.
He didn’t care anymore.
Not about his body.
Not about the battle.
Not even about the allies behind him.
All he cared about was the boundless sea of energy streaming into his body.
Why…
Why was it like this?
Where was the limit that had always kept him shackled?
Vulcanos watched as his Heartflame turned from a glowing ember to a flame, from a flame to an inferno, and from an inferno to a sphere so bright it mirrored the very sun in the sky.
Only then did he realize.
There was no limit.
Even when there was no skin left on his body, when his chest was stripped bare, when even his bones began to melt, he didn’t stop.
He continued eating, and eating, and eating.
***
Zeke’s fist clenched so hard that his knuckles turned white.
This was exactly what he had feared. The sphere was too dense, and Vulcanos’ body was giving out far quicker than the attack was diminishing.
The first to go was his skin, then his flesh, and now his very bones.
It was a grotesque sight. His powerful body was being melted down to a skeletal frame, held together by nothing but sheer willpower.
And still, Vulcanos did not relent.
On the contrary, the speed at which he was getting pushed back was slowing.
“Come on, Vulcanos. Come on…” Zeke heard himself saying.
He wanted nothing more than to go down there, to stop this gruesome spectacle. But even if he went, there was nothing he could do. This sphere contained more force than the full-powered attack of an Archmage. Even if he exhausted all his strength, it would not change anything.
All he could do now was believe that Vulcanos would somehow overcome this crisis on his own.
Then, Vulcanos’s feet, which had been continuously pushed back, suddenly came to a halt.
It was as if his heels had become lodged in the ground.
A moment later, he took a single step forward, resisting the power of the sphere for the first time.
One step.
Two steps.
Three.
Meanwhile, the sphere, which had once seemed like an insurmountable force, began to visibly shrink with each step he took.
What had been an unstoppable force became a burden he could manage, then a load he could push back. And it wasn’t just due to the reduction in size. Vulcanos’ absorption was actually gaining momentum.
Zeke could hardly believe his eyes.
He…
He was actually doing it!
After twelve steps, Vulcanos’s body came to a shuddering halt.
He had ended up at the exact spot where he had started.
By then, the sphere had completely disappeared.
However, instead of jubilant, Zeke was horrified by what he saw.
Vulcanos’s body looked like a burned-out husk. The searing heat had done far more damage than Zeke had initially thought. The flames had robbed him of his skin, muscles, and even bones, reaching deep within the Chimeroi’s chest.
How he had even been able to move until now was a mystery.
After one last shuddering breath, Vulcanos fell to his knees.
There was no skin left on his face, and even his teeth had become molten stumps. And yet, Zeke saw it clearly.
At that moment, there was a wide smile on his face.
Why was he smiling?
Just then, Vulcanos lifted his head toward the sky.
Toward him.
There were no eyes left in that burned-out skull. And yet, Zeke could feel his gaze. Vulcanos was looking at him.
There was meaning in this gesture; he could sense it. In that moment, Vulcanos wanted to communicate something to him.
But Zeke didn’t understand.
Then it happened.
From somewhere deep within his ruined body, a new source of energy ignited. Its heat was so immense that even Zeke, hovering hundreds of steps above, felt it when the wave of hot air tousled his hair.
Despite that, he didn’t avert his eyes for even a second.
Something was happening to Vulcanos’ body. Something he had never seen before.
A flame was growing within his body, but instead of destruction, it was bringing salvation. His blood vessels, muscles, and even skin were regenerating at a speed visible to the naked eye. But what returned was not the rough, stone-like texture from before, but smooth, human-like skin with an almost unearthly luster.
Zeke had seen this type of skin before.
There was a single person he knew with that same impossible smoothness. That same flawless, almost artificial perfection.
Winter.
All at once, Zeke realized what Vulcanos had wanted to tell him.
He understood, with absolute clarity, what was happening.
This was not healing.
This was not recovery.
Vulcanos was evolving.