The storm above had thinned, leaving only smoldering clouds rolling across the broken sky. Dust and ash rained from what was once the proud heart of the city. Amid the ruin, the colossal undead dragon roared, its hollow voice shaking the ground beneath Kael's boots.
"Strike."
The whisper pierced his mind as if it were spoken into his ear. The butterfly's voice—calm, guiding.
The dragon's claw descended, massive as a collapsing tower. Kael's grip tightened around the broken sword. Without hesitation, he raised his arm and slashed upward.
The strike was clean.
The beast's arm was severed in a single stroke, crashing to the ground with a thunderous impact. Black bone splintered, and for the first time, the wound did not knit back together.
Reinhardt's eyes widened. Even in his half-conscious state, blood running down his lips, he could not look away. "That… can't be…"
Kael himself froze for a heartbeat, staring at the glowing fragment of a blade in his hand. It had cleaved through the impossible. His sword—the incomplete relic—was glowing as though restored by some unseen force.
The dragon screamed, a deafening shriek that rattled the stone ruins and made Kael flinch, his ears ringing. Yet he didn't let go of Reinhardt. He pulled him closer, supporting his weight, trying to drag him toward safety. Reinhardt stumbled, his body growing heavier with every step, blood pouring freely from his wounds.
Reinhardt's voice trembled, broken between coughs. "Kael… your… your swing…" His emerald eyes widened in disbelief as he whispered, "…you cut it… so easily…" But his body betrayed him, collapsing into Kael's arm, his consciousness threatening to fade.
The dragon's fury only grew. Wings spread wide, it launched itself forward, its massive shadow devouring the streets below. With jaws gaping, it lunged toward the two men, intending to swallow them whole.
Kael's legs moved before thought could catch him. He twisted, narrowly pulling Reinhardt aside as teeth like jagged spears slammed into the earth where they had stood. Debris exploded around them, the shockwave nearly toppling Kael off balance.
For a split second, the beast's long neck was exposed.
"Stab."
The butterfly's voice echoed again in his mind. Kael's crimson eyes sharpened.
He let go of Reinhardt, just for a breath of time, and lunged forward. The broken sword gleamed with violent crimson light as he drove it straight into the base of the dragon's neck. The creature shrieked, bone cracking beneath the blade's weight.
The butterfly returned, landing delicately on the back of Kael's hand. Its wings beat once, twice—then the command came again.
"Slice."
Kael twisted the sword, dragging it across. In one devastating motion, the dragon's neck was cleaved open. Its roar died in its throat as its skull separated, collapsing to the ground with a crash that split the earth.
The monster convulsed once, then went still. The light animating its corpse flickered and vanished. The enormous body fell heavily before Kael, a lifeless mountain of bone. Silence consumed the battlefield.
Dust settled. For the first time since the attack began, there was no roar, no shaking earth—only the stunned cries of survivors.
From between shattered walls and fallen beams, people began to emerge. The fearful eyes that once hid in shadows now turned toward the man standing before the dragon's corpse.
Elric, her arm bleeding and strained, raced forward. She halted briefly in disbelief, her bow nearly slipping from her grasp. "Impossible… we struck it again and again, even with Reinhardt's strength… and yet… you…" Her gaze locked on the broken sword glowing faintly in Kael's grip. "That sword… can do this?"
She hurried toward Kael and Reinhardt, but her words barely reached him. His attention was on Reinhardt, who lay on the ground, his body pale, his breaths shallow.
Through hazy eyes, Reinhardt saw what had unfolded. A faint smile tugged at his lips despite the blood trailing down his chin. "...My… Hero…" His voice broke into a cough, his chest shuddering with pain.
Around them, the whispers began to rise. Murmurs spread like wildfire.
"Is that… Hero Kael?"
"No… it can't be. He was dead!"
"The eyes… the sword… that's him!"
"Our true lord, the Hero Kael!"
The crowd's fear shifted into awe, voices trembling with a mixture of reverence and hope. For the first time since the city fell under shadow, they cheered—not in despair, but in belief.
Kael froze. He could feel their stares, their worshipping eyes burning against his skin. His hood had fallen back in the chaos, his crimson gaze laid bare to all. He quickly pulled the fabric over his head once more, concealing himself from their sight.
He turned away from the crowd, his gaze falling instead to the dragon's remains.
The blackened mana that had coated its bones was unraveling like smoke, dissipating into the air. And there, gleaming faintly amid the rubble of its shattered ribcage, Kael saw it—
A fragment of a sword.
The core of the beast.
His fingers trembled as realization struck him. The dragon… was born from this. From the fragments… of my sword.
The butterfly's light dimmed, but it lingered, fluttering above the fragment as if beckoning him closer.
The butterfly descended gently, its fragile wings shimmering against the haze. It landed on a shard of jagged steel nestled within the dragon's ribcage—a fragment of the broken sword, its edges still humming with unnatural power. The way it gleamed, it was as if the creature had used this very piece as its core.
Kael's crimson eyes narrowed. The butterfly rested on the fragment, wings beating slowly, almost beckoning him forward. He stepped closer, then knelt, reaching for it—
"Kael! Reinhardt!"
Elric's voice tore through the silence, raw and desperate. Kael's head snapped toward the sound.
Reinhardt lay motionless on the broken ground, his face pale, lips stained with blood. Kael's chest clenched. He abandoned the fragment and hurried to his side, dropping to his knees. His trembling fingers pressed lightly against Reinhardt's neck.
A faint pulse. Weak… fading.
Kael exhaled shakily, relief and fear mingling. He's still alive… but slipping away.
"We need to go to the castle!" Elric's voice trembled as she ran toward them. "Reinhardt needs a doctor right now!"
She waved frantically at the few soldiers who had followed her into the ruins. At her command, they rushed forward, carefully lifting Reinhardt onto their backs, wrapping cloth around his bleeding wounds to slow the loss of blood.
Elric then turned to Kael, her eyes scanning him up and down. She placed her hand on his cheek, then his shoulder, running her palm over his arms and even brushing his forehead as if checking for hidden injuries. Her fingers lingered on every place she feared was broken.
When her gaze fell to his palm, her eyes widened. A deep cut stretched across it, blood dripping onto the shattered ground.
"Is it hurt?" Her voice cracked with worry. Without waiting for an answer, she tore a strip from her shirt and began to wrap it tightly around his hand.
But before she could finish, Kael gently pulled his hand away. Instead, he lifted his trembling fingers and pressed them against her forehead. His crimson eyes softened as they fell upon the fresh scar above her brow, the wound she had taken in battle to protect him.
Guilt surged in his chest like a tide.
Robert. Reinhardt. The guards. The soldiers who had fallen. The servants. The people of the city. Elric. All of them had bled for him. All of them had borne wounds while shielding him.
His hand shook. He had no words.
The butterfly fluttered between them, gliding through the dust-filled air. Its crimson glow shimmered faintly before it landed gracefully on the back of Kael's bloodied hand. For a moment, his skin lit with a faint light, warm and unfamiliar.
The wound closed.
Kael blinked, stunned, staring at the place where the butterfly's glow had vanished.
Elric gasped, stepping back. "That… that was healing—true healing…?" Her voice trembled in disbelief. She had seen magic, miracles, divine arts—but nothing like this.
Kael's gaze hardened. Without hesitation, he reached out, laying his hand gently on Elric's injured arm. Bandages burned and tattered from the fire still clung to her skin.
A glow spread across her arm, soft and pure. The blackened flesh healed before her eyes, the pain vanishing as though it had never been.
Elric's lips parted, trembling. "This… is impossible…"
But Kael's thoughts were already elsewhere. His crimson eyes widened. If this light could heal—then Reinhardt, then Robert—
He couldn't waste a moment. He broke into a run, racing after the soldiers who carried Reinhardt.
"Lord Kael?!" one soldier called, startled as the hooded man approached them with speed. They froze, uncertain whether to continue carrying their emperor or stop.
Kael ignored their hesitation. He dropped to his knees beside Reinhardt, his hand reaching for the pale man's blood-stained fingers. The moment his skin touched Reinhardt's, the faint glow sparked again, spreading like fireflies across his body.
Reinhardt stirred. His breath steadied, the pain etched on his face fading. His bones, shattered and torn, began to mend beneath the miracle.
His emerald eyes fluttered open, weak but alive. "...Kael…?" he whispered, voice raw, as though waking from a nightmare.
The soldiers who bore witness could only stare, eyes wide, their mouths agape at the impossible sight.
The Emperor of Emestrild—brought back from the brink of death by the man they had only just begun to whisper about in awe.