It was a quiet leave. Nicole had said she would handle the preparations while Mirabel and I set out.
We carried very little. I had only my sword at my waist and the clothes on my back.
Mirabel, however, wore polished armor, crimson roses etched into the black steel, and carried a long sword that seemed almost too elegant for battle.
We hadn't gone far from the capital when Mirabel stiffened. She could feel the demonic presence nearby.
Satire's warning had made no sense, but somehow, it was needed for this moment.
I sighed and took Mirabel's hand. I wasn't afraid. I just wanted to feel her warmth.
It was cold, so I wore a puffy coat over baggy black pants, stuffed to shield against the chill.
Magicae and runes kept most of the cold at bay, though I swore it felt colder than usual.
Mirabel seemed unaffected, her white and red armor gleaming in the dim light.
"The mercy of the strong," I murmured without thinking.
She glanced back. "Are you still so cold?"
I blushed. "Nope. I'm a bastion of heat and fire."
She chuckled softly, but her attention snapped forward.
The forest path ahead was deceptively calm, yet I could taste it on the air, the unholiness.
A heat unlike any natural fire pressed against my senses, suffocating and unnatural.
Mirabel shoved me back and swung her sword.
Fire split past us, crimson and alive, like liquid rubies spilled across the ground.
And then came the laughter.
A sound so ancient, so vile, it made my skin crawl.
The demon emerged.
Its skin was blacker than midnight, stretching like loose shadows over twisted, impossible angles of flesh.
Wings, torn and tattered, sprouted at jagged points, barely coherent.
Its eyes burned with molten fire, a stare that seemed to pierce the soul.
Its hands burst with uncontrolled flame, yet the heat was almost secondary to the sense of malevolence radiating from it.
Even weakened by this world, it radiated the wrongness of something born from Hell itself.
Its shape was fluid, unnatural, constantly shifting, like it refused to be constrained by geometry or reason.
Mirabel braced herself. "It's been here a while. It's not weak. I'm going to have to use some power."
This arrogant woman. Always wasting the word "power" as if I didn't want some for myself.
"Can I try fighting it?" I asked quietly.
She glanced back, dodging a jet of crimson fire with a tilt of her head. "Why risk yourself?"
I shrugged. "I want to win. I want to grow. I want to live."
Her laugh was light, but it carried the weight of someone who had lived longer than the world itself.
She leapt beside me just as a ball of flames hurtled toward us.
I grit my teeth, covering my blade in potent runes.
The fire struck and split, but heat bit my skin.
Blood trickled from my lips, and my muscles ached as if the world itself fought against me.
I faded into motion, just in time to feel the demon's fist descend.
I ducked and pushed it back with my left hand, rolling and swinging upward.
My blade, wrapped in cloth yet impossibly sharp, tore a line across its black skin.
Red seeped through the darkness like ink bleeding in water.
It tried to speak, but the words were illogical, a tongue not meant for mortal understanding.
That meant it was only at half strength. I was doing well, Cradella's grace worked as intended.
I darted to the right, drawing runes through the air as I landed behind it, then lunged forward.
The demon spun, catching my blade, but the runes exploded.
Gravity spheres erupted, pushing it back, though it braced with the darkness in its form.
I held back a cough, bending backward as a long hand of shadow shot for me.
I swung my blade cleanly, cutting it in two, then pulled the severed part forward.
And in that instant, I felt it. A shackle broke.
[This bastard… he had done the impossible. I reached the second wall mid-battle.]
I laughed despite the pain, feeling the sickness that had plagued me weaken.
The fight wasn't over, and reaching the sixth wall might still be impossible, but this was progress.
As my blade pierced its chest, the demon screamed.
A sound so alien, so unearthly, it clawed at the edge of sanity.
Then it dissolved into darkness.
A black hammer of shadow fell from nowhere, striking me with bone-cracking force.
I slammed to the ground, every tendon and muscle screaming in protest.
A blazing spear of fire tore through the space above me, devouring everything in its path.
I braced, but the impossible happened, I survived.
Mirabel held the spear, shattering it, and kicked the demon backward. Its head rolled across the dirt, then fell silent.
She turned to me and smiled. "That was good. You managed to remove a shackle. That's progress."
I was near the second wall now, my cultivation strengthened by exerting magicae during combat.
But the demon had held back, it had only been a taste of what true power could bring.
At this level, even a weakened demon hovered around the sixth wall.
Mirabel extended her hand, and I took it. She pulled me close and hugged me.
Heat washed over me, calm and comforting, healing the wounds across my body.
The runes burned less painfully now.
[Nicholas had been foolish. He did not yet realize his luck had run thin.]
Even in that embrace, danger lingered. A hidden strike had grazed Mirabel.
Yet she didn't flinch, didn't release me.
Her armor burned slightly where the impact landed, but she held me tightly.
"I hate this," she muttered, quiet but deadly. "Being interrupted by disgusting creatures from far away."
The demon's origin and class remained a mystery, gone as quickly as it came.
And Mirabel… she was terrifying when she wasn't showing me love.
***
It was not a welcoming return to the capital.
Nicole bombarded me the moment we stepped inside the walls, her urgency slicing through the usual hum of the court.
We hadn't even gone far when maids, butlers, and knights all stopped to watch as she came running.
"Little brother!" she screamed, clinging desperately to my sleeves.
Tears shone in her eyes as she looked up at me. "Never subject me to such torture again! Have you seen the state of our kingdoms?"
I gritted my teeth. Was this how she used my grace? Was she even lazier than me?
[Nicholas saw his elder sister. He was… disgusted.]
Her expression shifted, hurt flashing across her features. "Why are you making that face? You have no right to call me lazy, bastard!"
Mirabel stepped in, grabbing Nicole by the arms and lifting her up effortlessly. "Come, come. I need to inform you of a few things."
Before I could intervene, Mirabel began dragging Nicole away.
Who was still screaming about papers, classified reports, and the catastrophic state of affairs.
Most of the spectators barely reacted. They were used to my outbursts and her screams, I praise the people who have lived her with us for so long.
I pushed my brows together and let out a long, frustrated sigh. "Forgiveness is quite the mercy."