Chapter 155: Fire (3)

A gentle rain soaked the forest.

The flames that had devoured the area began to die down little by little. Embers still emitted smoke in some places, but they no longer spread with the same intensity.

Thick, acrid smoke filled the air.

Yuri swung his sword as he asked Yalta,

“Aren’t you going to call them?”

“What?”

“Your subordinates.”

Yalta moved his eyes.

“What for?”

Yuri let out a chuckle.

“Forget it, if you don’t want to.”

“Are you afraid to fight one-on-one and prefer a group fight?”

“No. What do you think?”

“Then why?”

“I want to fight you alone. I don’t want anyone to interrupt us.”

“For a Joachim worm, you’ve got some pride.”

If Yuri had been Yalta, he would’ve taken advantage of the Alloy brigade’s retreat to advance with the imperial army, even if the fire had already died down.

But he didn’t seem to have any plan.

Yuri said,

“Yalta.”

“Are you going to fight or keep talking?”

“Come to think of it… maybe you were right.”

“About what?”

“Living and fighting however you want.”

“No use flattering me now…”

Yuri grabbed him by the chin and lifted him forcefully. Yalta’s eyes widened.

“Don’t tell me…?”

Yuri removed the slime mask and tossed it to the ground. Then, the face of a handsome young man with black hair and eyes appeared.

“Two faces? Are you a mage?”

“Something like that.”

Yuri took a deep breath. Removing the mask freed his breathing. His field of vision, which had been slightly reduced, returned to normal.

Above all, he could now more clearly feel the flow of air across the skin of his face.

“I’m Yuri Briol, third prince of Briol.”

“Huh?”

Yalta tilted his head.

“But we’re in Joachim.”

“For someone so dumb, you should still understand why I’d reveal my identity.”

“Mmm…”

At his words, Yalta scratched his cheek, then burst into a wide, fierce laugh.

The atmosphere shifted completely from his earlier clumsy attitude.

“So you came to kill me, brat.”

Yuri also smiled.

“That’s right.”

With that, both lunged at the same time. A loud crash resounded.

Yuri’s sword flew from his hand, and his body was pushed back.

Yalta charged without hesitation, slashing his body with the sword.

Robbed of the initiative, Yuri could barely dodge and block. Wounds opened on his thigh and shoulder.

“That’s all you had? After all that arrogance!”

Yalta shouted as he slammed his sword down.

Yuri reacted instantly, generating a spiral of energy that launched at an oblique angle. Like interlocking gears, the storm bit into Yalta’s blade.

A sharp metallic sound exploded. Yalta’s sword stopped just in front of Yuri’s forehead.

Yuri immediately deflected it and kicked him in the abdomen. Yalta stumbled back.

Yuri pretended to sheath his sword but suddenly stabbed the air.

A direct thrust pierced the space, aiming at Yalta’s chest.

Clang!

The tip was blocked. Yalta twisted his sword to deflect it.

He smirked.

“You’re good with tricks.”

His sword’s energy flared even more. Mana blazed like fire.

“Try again, because I’m dying to kill you.”

Yalta stepped forward. Then another step.

And in the next instant, his body surged forward.

As if he’d teleported, he appeared before Yuri’s eyes and swung a horizontal slash.

It was like a giant guillotine falling at his waist. The angle and speed made ducking impossible—he could only jump.

But if he jumped, he’d be exposed mid-air.

Yuri made his decision instantly. Just as he’d told Yalta earlier, it wasn’t a calculated choice.

He acted on impulse, without thinking of the consequences.

The Cut of the soul and the heart responded.

The two swords clashed, and an explosion erupted. Rain-soaked mud splattered, blocking vision.

When the dust settled, both stood visible. Yalta was the one lying on the ground.

“What…?”

Yalta blinked.

He seemed unable to comprehend what had happened.

“What was that…?”

He looked at his sword hand. His entire arm trembled.

He tried squeezing and releasing the grip, but he barely had strength.

Yuri gave him no time. He stepped forward and slashed with Guilty. The droplets that struck the blade split in two.

A spray of blood burst forth.

“Aaargh!”

Yalta rolled on the ground. His forearm bled. He narrowly avoided a fatal wound, but it was deep.

“Bastard!”

He screamed in rage.

“Damn dirty tricks!”

Yuri didn’t answer. The world he saw was blurry.

Though he hadn’t consciously entered the soul domain, Yalta’s enraged figure looked like a faint shadow.

And it wasn’t just vision. Sounds echoed as vibrating tones, each pitch analyzed in detail.

Smells were perceived as gradients of intensity. He could even feel the wind’s flow on his skin.

And an indescribable sensation touched his core.

Yuri could clearly sense the hostility directed at him. The dark energy within him was connected to some unknown place.

Even though Yalta was right in front of him, he felt no concern.

Yuri looked at the sword in his hand.

Guilty.

Its form wasn’t defined. He didn’t fully understand what the soul domain was, but he was beginning to grasp it.

Chaos.

That unknown space he’d felt when fighting Moyongchan enveloped him again.

Nothing was defined there.

Not even form existed—until it was observed.

Thus, what he now held was pure disorder and, at the same time, infinite possibility. Mastering it or not depended solely on him.

He lifted Guilty. A wedge-shaped beam of light appeared in his hand.

A raw stone only takes shape when carved by a sculptor. The degree of refinement depends on their skill, but the final design is the sculptor’s will.

Yuri gripped Guilty.

He focused the Cut of the soul and the heart into it, carefully wrapping the sword with the chaos he’d just drawn forth.

Guilty, which looked like just a beam of light, began to take a defined form.

Even within the soul domain, its essence didn’t fade. It emerged whole and complete.

Yuri looked up.

As he confirmed his new senses, Yalta approached to strike. But he felt no urgency.

Within the chaos of possibility, an instant could become eternity. Yuri swung his sword.

At the moment their wills clashed, his consciousness returned to the real world.

“Gah!”

Once again, Yalta was hurled backward. Yuri gripped Guilty tightly, stepped forward, lowered his stance, and aimed at the enemy’s knee.

Yalta barely stepped back in time. Then he used his weight to strike down on Yuri’s head.

Yuri responded from below with an upward thrust. Both swords clashed, and Yalta stumbled.

He lost his balance, retreating with wide eyes.

“T-this is… impossible!”

Yuri stabbed Guilty directly into Yalta’s exposed chest.

Yalta tried to twist away, but his right chest was pierced.

“Ah…”

Yalta’s eyes looked down. When Yuri withdrew the sword, blood gushed out.

“Kuhak!”

Yalta clutched his chest with his sword hand. The hilt was soaked in blood.

“Damn you… damn you…”

Clenching his teeth, Yalta invoked his mana technique. The muscles in his chest contracted, and the bleeding slowly began to stop.

It was an absurd physical ability, but Yuri observed it with total calm.

Yalta glared at him.

“What… what the hell happened to you? Where did you suddenly get that strength…?”

Yuri didn’t respond. Instead, he stepped forward. Yalta, surprised, stepped back twice.

Refusing to admit he felt fear, he forced a sneer of contempt.

“Damn… worm… fucking brat…!”

But his voice lacked strength. Even the rage he tried to muster seemed smothered by another emotion.

“How all of a sudden…?”

Yuri closed his eyes and opened them again. At will, his vision shifted in and out of the soul domain.

He no longer paid attention to Yalta. He knew that awakened state was temporary, so he adjusted his senses to try to stabilize that power.

It was Yalta who charged first with a savage scream.

“Aaaaaaaah!”

His body swelled as if it were going to explode.

Even with a sword impaled in his chest, he was still one of the Ten Greats. His attacks were so violent they knocked down trees with the air pressure they created.

But he couldn’t land a hit on Yuri.

“Graaaaaah!”

He was like a beast. Watching him, Yuri thought of Graham. They were opposites.

Yalta lived by his impulses, while Graham always held himself back. That difference had made them completely different people.

And he? What kind of person was Yuri?

He looked at the chaos rippling across his sword. It didn’t feel pleasant. Observing the disorder within made him feel like his mind was dissolving.

As if his very existence was just smoke, ready to vanish at any moment.

But he had to do it.

Only then would he gain power, be able to stop his enemies, and protect what he wanted to protect.

Yuri said,

“You killed Sir Graham. So I’ll kill you too.”

“And what did Graham have to do with you?”

“He saved my life.”

“What?”

What would’ve happened if Graham had killed him that day? Could he have returned to the past?

Maybe yes, maybe no. But one thing was certain—if Yuri had come back after dying at Graham’s hands, he wouldn’t be the same person he was now.

The compassion of that day, and the sadness in Graham’s eyes, had shaped the Yuri Briol of today.

“A debt, whether of gratitude or vengeance, must always be paid.”

Yalta’s eyes filled with red veins. He moved his mouth silently.

“Try saying it.”

“What?”

“Ask me to forgive you.”

Yuri smirked.

“You can’t, right?”

“I…”

“Die.”

Guilty slashed directly at Yalta’s neck. He reflexively raised his hand to block it.

Four of his fingers were severed as he tried to grip the blade.

“Aaargh!”

“Die peacefully already.”

“P-please, forgive me! Don’t kill me!”

“Oh…”

Yuri stomped on Yalta’s back as he tried to crawl away.

“Don’t kill me!”

“You’re an adult, aren’t you? Sometimes you’ve got to do things even if you don’t want to. Like begging miserably for your life.”

“Please, I’m begging you! I’ll give you everything! I can make you one of the Ten Greats! I’ll give you money! I’ll tell the Emperor to reward you—just please, let me live…!”

Yuri watched him groveling on the ground and thought of his former self. He too had once begged for his life.

He wondered what Graham would’ve thought if he’d seen him like that. Would he have found him pathetic? Pitiful?

Yuri let out a sigh and a soft laugh.

“Truly… he was someone incredible.”

“Huh?”

“Not you.”

Yuri drove Guilty in. The chaos contained in the blade manifested fully with Yalta’s death.

“How was he able to forgive me…?”

Yuri looked up at the sky. The rain continued to fall.

With Guilty hanging from his hand, he closed his eyes. The fire burning inside him was gradually extinguishing.

“Haa…”

He exhaled a long breath.

“Congratulations.”

Suddenly, he heard a voice behind him. He didn’t need to turn to know who it was.

“Sir Inariel.”

“That’s right, kid.”

The salmon-haired elf stood beside him, looking at Yalta’s corpse.

“You killed one of the Ten Greats.”

“Unintentionally.”

“Does that make you one of them?”

“Who knows.”

“That a brat like you killed a Ten Great… this is unprecedented.”

Yuri didn’t look happy.

Inariel, nudging Yalta’s corpse with the tip of his staff, said,

“I don’t know what relationship you had with Graham, but…”

“Yes?”

“Consider this a gift.”

Inariel waved his staff. A silhouette began to materialize with a faint glow.

“I replaced him before his head exploded. I tried to save him, but he had already crossed the threshold of death. He won’t last long.”

What appeared within the halo of light… was Graham, motionless, his chest pierced.

Inariel spoke.

“At the very least, you can say goodbye.”