Fieron’s figure seed to grow taller, the deep blue radiance around him becoming almost tangible in the night. He raised his prosthetic right hand, pointing it at Fischer.
“If you want to survive, you’d better give it everything you’ve got, Mr. Fischer.”
Clang!
A sudden, dazzling burst of light exploded from Fieron’s right hand. Fischer’s pupils shrank as he thrust himself backward, but the light had already solidified into a beam, firing straight at him.
Alarm bells rang in Fischer’s mind. He spun around, gripping his cane tightly as rings of purple light surged from it. In an instant, the space around him blurred and distorted.
“Deflect.”
A seven-ring spell inscribed by Renée—Spatial Refraction.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
As Fischer chanted, the blue beam bent bizarrely in front of him, refracted by the illusionary space, redirecting its path. It veered off and blasted into the inner city wall, carving a molten line up its surface. The impact triggered explosions that sent chunks of stone soaring into the sky.
And yet, the beam didn’t stop—cutting through the night sky, it slashed open the clouds before finally fading into the horizon.
Fischer’s face turned grim. The power from a soul-ignited attack was beyond what he’d expected. If that beam had hit him, he’d have been vaporized on the spot.
Half of the distant city wall lted like lava. But Fieron never looked back. His gas mask remained fixed on Fischer, and as his cane lit up, steam erupted around him and surged forward.
Bang!
Fieron lunged, aiming to stop Fischer from casting any spells. With the boost from his steam-powered pack, his physical abilities had been enhanced to monstrous levels. His right fist slamd toward Fischer like a hamr.
Fischer ducked low and retaliated with a punch to the gas mask—but Fieron didn’t flinch. Steam burst from his mask, propelling his chanical arm to recoil and strike again. The next punch landed squarely on Fischer’s shoulder, numbing it instantly.
Staggering back, Fischer grit his teeth. That blow felt like a bullet—but in the sa mont, his spell was ready. He unleashed his magic full force, his cane glowing fiercely.
Dance of the Bees, Freezing Technique, and The Spinner—a barrage of inscribed spells hamred into Fieron. Wrapped in magical thread, Fieron was montarily frozen by a coat of frost. Then, with a buzzing whine, countless spinning blades flew toward his neck.
“Excellent!!”
Fieron burst forth with deep blue energy. Dozens of Death Rays, like the one that had sliced the wall earlier, radiated outward from his body. Fischer’s spells were instantly shattered, and the courtyard ground erupted in an explosive blast. Air pressure flared outward, tearing up trees and soil alike.
Fischer narrowed his eyes, gripping his cane tightly as he was flung into the air. He tumbled several tis before jamming the cane into the ground to stop himself.
His suit was soiled with dirt and torn. Looking up, he saw Fieron breathing heavily. The pack on his back snapped open, ejecting a tal cylinder into the air—it broke apart mid-flight, revealing... nothing inside.
“Mr. Fischer, surely you’ve got stronger spells! Let see them!”
The pack sealed shut again, and Fieron’s eyes glowed blue. Another ethereal wail rose as his right hand lit up once more with Death Ray.
Fischer’s expression remained calm. The tip of his cane flared with a shimring seven-ring spell, one he had developed together with Renée—a unique creation.
Renée's Cot.
The top of his cane collapsed inward like a black hole. Then, at the mont of absolute darkness, it flared into a brilliant violet. As Fieron fired his Death Ray, Fischer raised his cane—launching the cot straight at him.
A deafening boom exploded at the point where violet t blue. The mont the beams collided, Fieron’s Death Ray seed to gain weight—dropping to the ground as if gravity had tripled. Another massive explosion shook the earth.
But Fieron didn’t let up. He kept firing Death Rays from his prosthetic without any cooldown. The relentless assault left Fischer struggling to keep up. Even preparing spells took ti—and the shockwaves alone were tearing up the courtyard.
Fischer kept retreating—not by choice, but because the sheer pressure left him no room to maneuver. Even the shattered debris flying from the impacts felt like bullets. His suit had already been punctured in several places.
Then, in the briefest of monts, Fieron’s eyes twitched behind his mask—he saw an opening. A Death Ray blasted straight toward Fischer. With no ti to dodge, Fischer used Spatial Refraction again.
The beam deflected and struck a building in the demi-human residential district. A fiery explosion tore through it, sending flaming debris skyward. As the wreckage fell, Fischer saw several Werekin won too slow to escape.
He hadn’t moved yet—but soone else had.
A deep blue figure landed in front of the won. Fieron shattered the falling debris with his prosthetic arm, leaving no trace of the wreckage. The stunned won turned and saw him silently standing there, steam rising from his arm.
“L-Lord Fieron...?”
“Go. Head to the city wall. Stay away from here—it’s not safe.”
He helped them to their feet and pointed them toward the edge of the city. Once they nodded and left, he slowly walked back toward Fischer. Another spent cylinder dropped from his pack with a tallic clang.
“These demi-humans are alive because of the sacrifice of those children. Don’t let it be in vain, Mr. Fischer. Let’s continue...”
Fischer exhaled, glancing at the retreating demi-humans. Fieron’s brief rescue had bought him a few seconds—enough to prep another spell. Purple rings were forming in his hand.
“A salvation without bottom lines ans nothing to them...”
Before Fischer could finish, Fieron raised a hand.
“Mr. Fischer, let’s save the conversation for after the battle—if there’s ti left. You’re secretly preparing magic... and I’m using this ti to close in.”
That’s when Fischer realized—Fieron’s right hand wasn’t glowing.
Instead, his left hand was raised—wearing a strange glove-like device. In the blink of an eye, Fieron grabbed Fischer’s shoulder.
A strange numbness shot through Fischer, and sothing surged into his brain. Though nothing visibly happened, he felt a violent jolt in his mind—as if his senses were drifting away, his body separating from his soul.
He glanced at his arm—the magic circuits were fading, the skin beneath growing pale, like color draining from a photograph.
He was being soul-stripped.
Fischer gritted his teeth. The pain was excruciating—but the torture he’d experienced through the Demi-Human Girl Completion Handbook had made him sowhat resistant. He poured all his strength into ramming his cane into Fieron’s stomach.
A burst of violet light exploded.
BOOM!!
Smoke and fire roared. Fischer, dizzy with pain, felt himself falling. It only took a few seconds, but when he landed, it was with a bone-jarring thud on sothing hard.
His whole body felt like it was falling apart. If not for the Dragonkin enhancents, he might’ve died.
But what about Fieron? That last spell likely hadn’t finished him off. Fischer rembered seeing the blue glow of his one-use energy shield before the explosion.
Dizzy, Fischer staggered to his feet. In the shimring haze, he looked down and saw that his skin had returned to normal. He exhaled in relief.
Around him, faint blue lights flickered, casting dim outlines.
Where... was he?
“Hrrr...”
“Uhh...”
“Nggh...”
Whispers surrounded him. Fischer looked down—sothing was grabbing his pants leg.
A demi-human child.
Blue blood oozed from all seven orifices. The child stared at him with vacant eyes.
Fischer’s pupils shrank. He looked around.
They were underground—in a massive plaza beneath the demi-human town. The blast must’ve collapsed the floor above. That’s how he ended up down here.
Around him, countless demi-human children crawled, their skin ashen, eyes bulging, blue blood dripping. They stared hungrily at Fischer, inching toward him.
There was nothing else here—only a chair embedded into the ground at the center of the plaza. A beam of moonlight filtered down from the hole above. From the darkness, Fieron erged, placing a hand on the chair.
“Astonishing. You’re the first person I’ve seen cast magic while having their soul extracted. That must take unimaginable pain... such incredible willpower. You really aren’t ordinary, Mr. Fischer.”
He didn’t attack. It was like an intermission.
Fischer’s spell had shattered his default shield. The fall had done so damage to his human body, too.
Fieron looked at the children crawling mindlessly toward them and chuckled. His magnetic voice was soft—almost like a lullaby.
“Soulless husks, without Guidance, instinctively seek out souls. That’s why they co toward you. But even if they sense our souls, they can only nibble and gnaw—nothing more. Their souls are gone, never to return.”
Fieron bent down and picked up a child, just like he’d done countless tis before. The child opened its mouth and bit down, but it was still growing baby teeth—no threat at all to the tal mask.
“They were the few sacrificed for the many. Even if no one above will ever know their nas, I’ll rember them.”
He stroked the child’s hair.
“Boqi... wanted to be a painter. Loved steak, hated peas.”
“Hrrr...”
“Rick... wanted to work in the city, help handle paperwork.”
“Nggh...”
“Theresa... wanted to design clothes for demi-humans, beautiful clothes for every race.”
“Hee.”
He recited each na gently, the children’s eerie murmurs rising and falling like a haunted lullaby.
“Even without their souls, I’ll stay with them. Until they’re too old to move. Their sacrifice was worth it—just like the heroes of Saint Nary, rembered every year for giving their lives. There’s no difference.”
Fischer was about to speak—but sothing was biting his pants leg.
He looked down.
A girl with wolf ears.
Biting numbly through his trousers. Her gray face dripped with blue blood, her eyes bulging with emptiness. She wore the sa dark green dress as the last ti he’d seen her.
Qiqi.
“Hrr... ahh... rrr...”
Fischer quietly lowered her head from his leg, only to see her blank, frozen face still oozing blue blood from the corners of her eyes. Was it tears, or sothing else? Even held back, she continued the gnawing motion.
His expression didn’t change.
Until he saw the half-bloodied envelope sticking out of her dress pocket.
In elegant cursive, it read:
“To Fischer Benavides”
“Mr. Fischer, when you return to Nary... can I write you a letter?”
Fischer’s face darkened. He silently pulled Qiqi into his arms. As she began to gnaw at his shoulder and neck, he suddenly gripped her neck—and snapped it.
Her soul was already gone. Only an empty husk remained.
“As I thought, Fieron...”
Fischer stood once more, gripping his cane.
He looked at Fieron, who had also stood up, placing the child back down.
His face was colder than ice.
“You can go to hll, you bstard.”
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