Having prepared himself for imminent death, Ritsuki clenched his shield so tightly that his fingers turned white. Time seemed to stand still — every moment dragged on endlessly, scorching his soul with an icy premonition of the end. He squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for the crushing blow… but there was only silence. No explosion, no pain — just an eerie, oppressive silence.
As soon as he dared to open his eyes a fraction, Goetia's heart‑rending scream tore through the space — a cry in which pain, horror, and disbelief were all mingled.
Ritsuki peered out from behind his shield, and his blood ran cold.
Nomat stood facing Goetia — calm, almost careless. And between them… Goetia's entrails, torn out with bloody ferocity, hung like ghastly garlands.
Ritsuki blinked — and the world went mad.
In an instant, Nomat was already tightening a loop of intestines around Goetia's neck. The next moment, he was raining blows upon Goetia's head, blows that split the air with shockwaves. They struck Ritsuki like hammer blows, hurling the half‑dead «heroic spirits» aside like rag dolls.
But the most terrible thing was not the cruelty — it was Nomat's unhuman nature. His body was tearing apart, and a moment later — it was fusing back together, as if flesh and bone obeyed some monstrous rhythm. The wounds… they appeared from within, as if something was tearing its way out, breaking bones and rending muscles.
Another moment — and Goetia's hand pierced Nomat's chest… but Nomat only burst into laughter, while Goetia screamed in pain, yanking his hand out of the enemy's body. A violet flame blazed on the skin — as if darkness itself was branding him for touching this monster.
Anyone would have died. Anyone, but not Nomat.
He stepped back — and laughed. A laugh that sent shivers down the spine and made the hair stand on end.
«You're the first one in a long time who's managed to wound my ego!» — his voice sounded like metal scraping against bone.
«Get ready! I'll tear you apart! I'll devour your heart! I'll drink your blood!»
Goetia tried to say something — but a shadow had already risen behind him. A huge green spider, like a creature born from the darkest nightmares, clung to his back. Its body began to swell, filling with power, while Nomat, still laughing, pulled Goetia toward him with the «rope» of intestines and struck with such force that the earth trembled.
And then — an explosion.
A magical storm engulfed everything around, dyeing the world in sinister shades of green and violet flame. But whereas earlier the blast had hurled them in all directions, now…
Nomat stood.
He stood amidst the chaos, enveloped by the same terrible magic that should have destroyed him. His body was being destroyed — skin cracking, muscles tearing, bones breaking… yet it was instantly regenerating, as if death itself had no power over him.
And on his face… not a smile. Not a smirk.
The mad grin of a monster that wants to kill.
This time, everything was different.
The monstrous pain that tormented Nomat hadn't disappeared — it still tore at him from within, like a thousand invisible claws. But now it was muted, pushed to the fringes of his consciousness by an indomitable fury. And atop that fury, like an all‑consuming flame, surged adrenaline — the most ancient force that awakens superhuman potential in a living being.
This was not merely a chemical release. This was the awakening of a primal spirit, the very one that compels:
A mortally wounded warrior to rise for one final battle;
A frail mother to move a car to save her child;
An exhausted wanderer to defeat a bear with his bare hands.
Adrenaline is evolution's greatest gift, transforming fragile human flesh into a machine operating not at 100 %, but at 1 000 %. It erases the boundaries of the possible, reprograms the mind, and sharpens the senses to supernatural acuity.
And now this force was raging within the vampire.
A creature naturally superior to humans in strength and endurance had received a dose of pure madness, multiplying its capabilities by an unknown factor. Adrenaline didn't merely strengthen Nomat — it rebuilt him, turning him into the perfect engine of destruction.
Nomat fought.
Not as a warrior. Not as a monster. But as an elemental force unleashed upon his enemy. His movements became the absolute of speed and precision — each blow carried the force of a collision with a mountain range at 600 km/h. His body, which until recently had been torn apart by pain, now moved with unhuman grace, defying the laws of physics.
Time had changed for him.
It hadn't slowed down — it had fractured into fragments, allowing Nomat to perceive:
Microscopic muscle contractions beneath Goetia's skin;
Barely perceptible shifts in the position of his joints;
The slightest fluctuations in his aura, foretelling a magical discharge.
He read his opponent like an open book. He anticipated blows before they were even conceived. He evaded attacks that didn't yet exist.
And when Goetia attempted to call upon magic, his efforts crumbled to dust.
Clumps of «chaos magic» erupted from Nomat's body — uncontrolled, furious, all‑devouring. It didn't block the spells — it annihilated them, reducing them to nothingness before they could even take form. This wasn't a counterattack. This was a denial of the very possibility of magic in Nomat's presence.
At that moment, he ceased to be a creature of flesh and blood. He became the embodiment of adrenaline‑fueled madness — a force for which no barriers existed. Pain? Fear? Doubt? All of these dissolved in the fiery whirlwind of primal fury and superhuman might.
Nomat was no longer fighting.
He was destroying.
And in this destruction lay its own horrifying beauty — the beauty of absolute supremacy born from a mixture of pain, fury, and rampant adrenaline, which had transformed the vampire into a deity of battle.
He was drifting further and further away from the concept of humanity.
And then, just when victory was within reach — one final surge, one last blow — Nomat heard a voice.
Unfamiliar. Yet at the same time… painfully familiar.
With every strike against Goetia, with every uncontrolled burst of «chaos magic», the voice grew clearer, gained weight, penetrating his consciousness like an icy stream cutting through scorched rock.
And then — a flash.
A figure appeared before him.
A girl in a white garment — torn, soaked in dirt and blood. On the exposed patches of her skin, sharp edges of «originium» crystals glimmered. Long chestnut hair flowed over her shoulders, and atop her head, besides a crown, two rabbit ears stood out. Her face was hidden behind a translucent veil, at the centre of which a white rhombus glowed.
«Have you truly decided to follow the path chosen for you?» — her voice rang like crystal.
«Have you truly decided to become the „Beast of Indifference"?»
Nomat froze.
The fury that had enveloped him during the battle began to crumble like ash in the rain. A coldness spread through him. He stood towering over Goetia, but now his gaze held not triumph and vengeance, but indignation and hesitation.
«Serdolika?..» — he whispered, not even understanding why he uttered that name.
He wanted to say something more — but Goetia struck.
The blow was cataclysmic.
The bedrock bent like clay under a hammer. A final surge of blood rose to Nomat's throat — he swallowed it, clenched his teeth, and collapsed to the ground.
«Not bad at all, vampire.» — Goetia's voice sounded at the very edge of perception.
«Just a little more — and you might have killed me. It seems this was your limit.»
Nomat didn't hear.
He was fighting. Fighting for every breath, for every movement. The remnants of blood that still kept him alive now streamed from his wounds, soaking into the earth.
Something was wrong.
This wasn't the first time he'd been on the brink. In his early years, due to inexperience, he'd often drained himself to this state. But now…
Something writhed on his bones.
It felt as if scorching chains were digging into his flesh, burning from within, crushing every bone. When the source of his magic ran dry, another force began to seep into his body — the magic of this world, his first world.
Because of this, he couldn't even move a finger. Couldn't reach into his inventory for a vial of blood.
And then — the voice again.
«Remember who you were. Remember. Remember and speak the words that come from your heart.»
Nomat was in a stupor. Crude, furious words hovered on his tongue, but he chose to trust. There was no other choice anyway.
He closed his eyes.
He began to remember.
With effort, through pain and darkness, he pulled bright moments from the depths of his memory:
the first kiss under the starry sky;
the laughter of friends over a mug of wine;
the clink of coins — his first earned fee;
the warm side of a puppy curled up at his feet.
These images came to life before his inner gaze, and with them — words.
Words imbued with power.
«Dreams of bygone days…» — he whispered.
And at that very moment, a wave of magic burst forth from his body.
Not «chaos magic». Not bloody fury. But something else — deep, ancient, personal.
The space ruptured.
They found themselves in a void beneath the starry sky. Around them — thousands of shards, within which images flickered: faces, events, moments, drawn here along with those who were nearby.
«The Mirror of the Soul?» — said the gray‑haired Archer, looking around. He helped Ritsuki Fujimaru to his feet.
«Do you really think this will save you? Do you think this will help you?» — Goetia spat, raising his hands to call upon magic.
But two figures burst forth from one of the shards.
As soon as they touched the ground, they immediately lunged at Goetia.
The woman attacked with magic — and to everyone's surprise, her strikes dealt damage. Her spells flashed like ice spears, piercing the enemy's defences.
The man fought with a sword — his movements were precise, like the beats of a metronome. Each swing of the blade forced Goetia to retreat.
They acted in unison, creating an invincible duo. Their attacks overlapped, filling any gaps in their defence. Goetia began to lose ground — his wounds, inflicted by Nomat, had not yet healed.
«Who… who are you?!» — he gasped, reeling under the onslaught.
The woman smiled — cold, merciless.
«We are his family.»
The man raised his sword, and at that moment the stars in the «Mirror of the Soul» flared brighter.
«And we won't let you win.»
Nomat froze upon hearing their voices — so familiar that blood began to gather in his one intact eye. A single drop trickled down his gaunt cheek.
«Even so, I can't see their faces…»
For Nomat, their faces remained blurred — he could make out only the lower parts, but he couldn't pierce the gaze past their mysterious hoods.
The battle resumed with renewed fervour. Despite their fierce attacks, the situation remained stalemated: they gave Goetia no respite, yet couldn't defeat him completely.
Suddenly, the figures leapt to a safe distance, assuming a vaguely familiar pose.
The woman knelt on one knee, her hands clasped in a prayer‑like gesture, while the man stood tall behind her. His blade was thrust into the ground, and his gaze, full of determination, was fixed on the enemy.
The silence was shattered by the woman's voice:
«O, come forth, invincible knight! Come and vanquish the great evil!»
The largest shard above their heads blazed with golden light. Everyone had to shield their eyes from the blinding radiance. When the light faded, a new figure stood before them.
It was a boy. In his hands — a wooden sword; on his shoulders — a cloak made of a blanket; on his head — a paper crown. Yet in his posture, in his forward‑looking gaze, there was unwavering resolve. He stood before the man and woman, back straight, and proclaimed loudly:
«The hero has come!»
And he charged into battle.
While the man's and woman's attacks left only minor wounds, the boy's very first strike nearly split Goetia in two. His movements seemed primitive, almost childlike, yet they harboured an unbreakable strength. Every attack from Goetia magically missed — as if fate itself protected the young hero.
Seeing this, Nomat first froze, then burst into laughter — so loud, so genuine, that he nearly lost consciousness from mirth.
«The strongest people for a person are their parents!» — he shouted between fits of laughter.
«And the invincible hero is a child who doesn't even know what defeat is!»
His words made the «heroic spirits» and Ritsuki Fujimaru, who were already approaching him, freeze in astonishment.
«He's clearly a crazy bastard,» — grumbled the white‑haired Archer, crossing his arms over his chest.
«Don't be rude to our ally, Archer,» — coldly rebuked him the «heroic spirit» in coal‑black armour.
«His manner of speech may be vulgar, but he fights on our side.»
«Unlike a beaten dog like you,» — added the girl with the enormous halberd, casting a disdainful glance at Archer.
«Where is your vaunted „Mirror of the Soul" now? Oh, right… it didn't work.»
«Huh, I didn't notice your vaunted magic working on him either,» — Archer retorted with a smirk, barely dodging a sweeping halberd strike.
«Watch your tongue,» — the weapon's owner said calmly, though with an obvious threat, lowering her halberd.
At that moment, the boy with the wooden sword swung his blade — and Goetia flew backward, crashing into a cliff. His defences shattered like glass, and darkness gushed from his wound, dissolving in the starlight of the «Mirror of the Soul».
The woman lifted her head; her eyes blazed with golden fire.
«When the time comes, he will remember our faces again,» — she whispered.
The man stepped forward; his sword shone brighter than a thousand suns.
«Now we will finish this.»
Nomat stopped laughing. He looked at them — the woman, the man, the boy — and something warm, nearly forgotten, swelled in his chest.
«Family…»
The word echoed in his mind. He rose slowly, leaning on his last reserves of strength. Blood still flowed, but he stubbornly moved toward his goal.
«You…» — his voice trembled, then grew firm. — «You've stood in my defence once again. And now… let me finish this.»
The boy turned around, grinning broadly. His eyes shone like stars.
«The hero has come!» — he shouted, pointing his sword at Goetia. — «Time to win!»
And at that moment, the «Mirror of the Soul» exploded with light.
Shards of reality merged into one, forming a single battlefield — a space where past, present, and future intertwined in a dance of magic and will.
Goetia tried to rise, but he was surrounded:
The woman, whose spells struck like lightning;
The man, whose sword cleaved through the darkness;
The boy, whose faith broke any barrier;
And Nomat, whose fury still raged.
«Did you think you could break me?» — Nomat's voice thundered.
He raised his hand — and a pillar of light erupted from his palm, connecting all four figures.
The light coalesced into a single blade — a sword forged from memories, love, and faith.
«This…» — Goetia whispered, for the first time in the battle feeling fear. — «This is impossible…»
«It is possible,» — Nomat replied.
«Because these are my dreams of the past.» — With these words, Goetia surrendered.
«What is the name of the man you were — the one I killed?»
«Leo De Morgan.» — At these words, several «heroic spirits» turned their keen attention to him.
And he struck.
The sword of light pierced the darkness, tearing Goetia apart. The enemy's screams dissolved in the radiance, and his body crumbled like ash carried away by the starry wind.
Nomat's hand was scorched — for he had wielded a weapon imbued with the attribute of light.
Silence.
Then it was broken by the boy's exclamation.
The boy was jumping up and down, waving his wooden sword. The woman was smiling. The man lowered his blade, though his stance remained unyielding.
And Nomat… he simply stood there.
He pulled out the long‑awaited vial of blood and drank it; then his body began to return to normal.
«Thank you,» — he whispered. — «I… I'm glad to see you, even if only like this.»
And then the «Mirror of the Soul» melted away, leaving them in reality — wounded, exhausted, but alive.
Ritsuki Fujimaru stepped closer; his eyes were full of admiration.
«You… you did it.»
To which I merely chuckled.
«Of course! After all, I entered the battle!»
The boy waved at him, his smile brighter than the sun.
«See you later, hero!»
And they vanished — like a dream, like a memory.
Nomat gave a wry smile, looking at his hands.
«I'm definitely not a hero,» — then, groaning like an old man, he found a nearby stone and sat down on it.