The world seemed to stutter. Legend was mid-lunge, his entire existence focused on the tip of his blade. He saw Gakeru's sneer, saw the dark mana swirling around that iron gauntlet like a hungry vortex.
Then, a blur of white hair and a desperate shove.
Prina had moved with a speed that defied her frail frame, her Nuclear Core flaring for one final, suicidal burst of momentum. She slammed into Legend, sending him sprawling into the freezing slush.
"How touching," Gakeru hissed. "A sacrificial lamb."
His fist didn't stop. It connected directly with Prina's face before she could even raise a hand in defense.
THOOM.
It wasn't just a punch; it was a localized detonation of mana. In the micro-second before the shockwave cleared, the snow on the nearby trees hadn't even begun to fall. But in that heartbeat, the girl who had been the heart of the 38th Battalion ceased to exist from the neck up. A mist of crimson vaporized into the winter air, painting the white landscape in a gruesome, splattered red.
Legend's scream was raw, a sound that didn't belong to a human being. Beside him, Akira froze, her dual daggers trembling in hands that had suddenly lost all feeling. Gron, clutching his shattered arm, could only stare in hollow-eyed horror as Prina's headless body stood momentarily upright before collapsing into the gore-stained snow.
"Exquisite!" Gakeru roared, shaking the blood from his gauntlet. "I warned you. I told you to run! Why did you stay? This blood... it's on your hands, little hero. She died because you were too weak to leave."
Gakeru stepped toward the broken Legend, his boots crunching on the ice. But then, the air changed. The temperature didn't just drop—it turned murderous. A pressure, heavy and ancient, slammed into the clearing.
Gakeru stopped. His instincts, honed in a hundred deathmatches, screamed a single word: Death.
"What... what is this presence behind me?" Gakeru whispered, his voice cracking for the first time.
He turned slowly. Standing amidst the red mist was Magnus. He wasn't screaming. He wasn't crying. He stood leaning against his iron sword, which was driven deep into the frozen earth. His eyes were void of emotion, looking at the scene with a cold, analytical detachment that was far more terrifying than rage.
"Magnus! Run!" Akira found her voice, though it was thin and cracked.
Magnus didn't move. He looked at Gakeru, then at the headless remains of Prina. "Don't worry, Akira," Magnus said. His voice was a low vibration that seemed to resonate within their very bones. "I just got here... but I understand the situation perfectly."
The Hospital: One Week Later
"No! Prina! Get back!"
Legend bolted upright, his lungs burning as if they were filled with ash. Sweat soaked his bandages. The sterile white ceiling of the military ward felt like it was closing in on him.
"Am I... where is this?" He looked around, disoriented. The passage of time felt fractured, like a broken mirror.
"You're awake," a sharp voice cut through his panic. It was Akira. She was sitting by the window, her arm in a sling, staring out at the grey barracks. "Your condition was critical. It's a miracle the mages stabilized your mental state."
Legend went rigid. A spark of desperate hope flickered in his chest. "Stabilized? Then... is she okay? Did Prina heal herself? Tell me she's in the next room. Tell me she survived that hit!"
Akira didn't answer. She didn't even turn around.
"Hey! Why are you quiet? Say something!" Legend tried to swing his legs out of bed, but his body felt like lead. "She's the best healer we have! She must have had a protective spell, right? Akira, talk to me!"
Legend began to sob. He knew the truth, but his mind was clawing at the walls, trying to escape the memory of that crimson mist. He had been physically uninjured in that final moment, yet he had collapsed from the sheer psychological trauma.
"Tell me Magnus killed him," Legend hissed through his tears. "Tell me that monster Gakeru is dead."
Akira turned, her eyes burning with a mix of fury and exhaustion. "He's not. Gakeru is alive."
"What?! How?! Was Magnus not strong enough? Did he fail?!"
"It wasn't about strength!" Akira shouted, slamming her good hand against the bedframe. "He just... damn it!" She couldn't find the words and stormed out, leaving the door swinging.
Hours later, the door creaked open again. Gron entered, his arm in a thick cast, followed by the Lieutenant and a sullen Akira. The Lieutenant's eyes, usually cold and indifferent, held a newfound shadow of guilt.
"You look like hell, kid," Gron said, sitting heavily on a stool. "I carried you back on my own shoulders, so you owe me a drink once you're on your feet." It was a weak attempt at humor, and it fell flat.
"Tell me what happened," Legend demanded, his voice trembling. "I'm sick of the silence. What happened after I blacked out?"
Gron sighed, rubbing his face with his good hand.
"Fine. I'll tell you," Gron said, his tone turning dead serious. "But it's not the story you're expecting. Sit tight, and don't lose your head again."
Gron looked at the Lieutenant, then back at Legend. "After you went under... Magnus drew his sword. We thought he was going to erase Gakeru from existence. But instead..."