Within the darkness…
Allesio stood in the middle of nowhere.
Everything around him was black. endless, silent, suffocating black.
"Did I… die?" Allesio muttered.
"Where am I?"
"Why is it so dark here…?"
He began walking forward, his footsteps echoing into nothingness.
"Allesio, my son… after I die, you'll be the one to take over the kingdom."
The voice froze him in place.
"Dad…?" Allesio whispered. "Is that you?"
He turned toward the source of the sound.
"Do not worry, my king. I will guide him with my life."
Tharil appeared beside the king. A twisted, evil smirk stretched across his face.
"Tharil…" Allesio growled. "I'll kill you!"
He rushed forward.
And suddenly, the ground vanished beneath him.
Allesio fell into a void, slamming hard against solid rock below.
Before he could rise, the vision changed.
He saw it.
Tharil's blade piercing straight through King Eryndor's chest.
Blood spilled freely.
The king reached out. His trembling hand stretching toward Allesio.
"Father…!"
Allesio screamed.
Then he heard a voice.
"Your time has not come yet." Aamon's voice echoed through the darkness.
Warmth spread through Allesio's body.
The pain, the unbearable agony, began to fade, little by little.
His eyes slowly opened.
Servil was kneeling over him, hands glowing faintly as she desperately healed him.
"What… happened?" Allesio whispered.
"Don't move," Servil said urgently. "Your injuries are critical."
"…What about him?" Allesio asked. "What about that man?"
"The others are trying to stop him," Servil replied. "He's gone completely insane."
"What about the civilians?" Allesio asked
"They're out of the town," Servil said. "They'll be safe… for now."
Allesio exhaled weakly.
"How long was I unconscious?"
"About a minute," Servil said. "We arrived just before you were about to be finished."
"…That's good to hear." Allesio tried to sit up.
"Don't move," Servil warned. "You're not fully healed yet."
Despite the pain, Allesio forced himself upright.
His vision cleared and he saw Ysera and Arcel nearby, both barely standing, exhaustion written across their faces.
"…Why did you risk your lives for me?" Allesio asked quietly. "I'm a dark magic user."
"You had your reasons for learning dark magic," Servil replied calmly.
"And if you were truly evil," she continued, "you wouldn't have risked your life for strangers you just met."
Allesio stared at his trembling hand.
"Dark magic…choices… consequences…"
"…Alright." He stood.
"You shouldn't move!" Servil said.
"I have to finish what I started." Allesio said
Allesio grabbed his sword with his right hand.
Pain surged through him, but he endured it.
He stepped forward, facing Fury once more.
Fury's eyes gleamed with excitement.
"You can still fight?" Fury laughed. "This just keeps getting better!"
"You shouldn't fight in your condition," Ysera said anxiously.
"We'll handle him," Arcel added. "Heal yourself."
"I'm grateful," Allesio said quietly. "Truly."
"But I have to finish this" Allesio said
"Sword Art: Flower Blossom." Allesio vanished forward.
With every strike against the whip-dragons, petals of glowing flowers scattered through the air, drifting softly against the chaos.
Fury's smile slowly faded.
"…What's this? His fighting style… It's completely different from before".
Many Years Ago…
Little Allesio and little Aamon stood facing each other, wooden swords in hand. Sweat dripped down their foreheads as they circled one another.
"Sword Art: Flower Blossom!"
Aamon struck. His blade moved lightly, almost dancing, and Allesio was knocked back. As he fell, it felt as if flower petals scattered through the air around him.
Allesio landed on the grass, eyes shining.
"What was that move?!" he asked excitedly. "That was so cool!"
"I… I don't know," Aamon replied, staring at his sword. "I was just practicing… and it happened."
"You made that yourself?" Allesio jumped to his feet. "That's amazing!"
He grabbed Aamon's arm eagerly. "Teach me! Please teach me that!"
Present Time…
The whip dragons lunged at Allesio once more—faster, fiercer than before.
But this time, Allesio didn't hesitate.
His blade moved like a flowing wind. One strike after another—clean, precise. The whip dragons were severed instantly, their bodies dispersing before they could even reach him. They regenerated again and again, but Allesio cut them down just as fast.
His movements were sharper now.
Faster. Calmer.
He advanced relentlessly toward Fury.
Fury retreated, forced to reposition again and again, barely maintaining distance as Allesio closed in.
"He's different…" Fury realized.
"Dark Magic + Whip Blade Technique: Crimson Chronicles!"
The ground trembled violently. Several whip dragons burrowed beneath the earth, cracking the ground apart. Others tore trees from the soil and hurled them toward Allesio. Some moved with terrifying speed; others released a thick, poisonous stench that burned the air.
Yet Allesio didn't stop.
Many Years Ago…
"Why can't I do it?" little Allesio asked, frustration shaking his voice.
"I did it the same way," Aamon said, confused. "It just… worked."
A calm voice interrupted them.
"It's because that technique requires a pure heart," King Eryndor said as he approached. "The Sword Art technique of the Flower cannot be wielded otherwise."
"Greetings, my king," Aamon said, bowing quickly.
"But I do have a pure heart!" Allesio protested.
King Eryndor smiled gently.
"Then ask yourself this," he said. "Why do you want to learn it? To show off your strength… or to protect others?"
Present Time…
"I finally know the answer, Father," Allesio whispered.
He tightened his grip on his sword.
"Sword Art: Flower technique." Allesio charged straight at Fury.
All the whip dragons converged on him at once, closing in from every direction.
At the very last moment…
"Flower Step." Allesio vanished.
Fury's eyes widened. "What…?!"
Allesio reappeared behind him.
Before Fury could react, the whip dragons moving at overwhelming speed lost control and turned on their master. One by one, they pierced through Fury's body.
"Gah---!"
Fury coughed blood as his strength drained away.
Allesio slowly sheathed his sword.
His legs finally gave out, and he sank to the ground, breathing heavily.
Servil rushed to his side. "Are you alright?!"
"I'm fine," Allesio replied quietly.
Allesio lifted his gaze toward the distant horizon—toward the battlefield where Zorayel and Dareth were fighting.
"There's a storm over there," he said.
The others followed his gaze.
The air itself trembled. Immense mana surged in the distance, heavy and foreboding. Something far more dangerous was waiting.