Severance

A light that was so pure, so absolute, it was the color of origin itself. It came from Gilbert as another part of his very being.

The miniature sun above him stood like a star born in the middle of darkness.

The air around it changed and contorted slowly. Ceasing to exist. Replaced by a pressure that made every night creature's soul tremble.

The grey sky vanished, replaced by an empty, sterile white.

Snow began to fall. Not the cold, gentle snow of winter, but a frost that flash-froze anything it touched.

The frozen sea around them unfroze, making sounds of tides and waves hitting each other. The wind was strong as ever, and the panicked looks of everyone around were apparent. They were silent.

Lord Varnhame closed his eyes. Albescu and Morvai froze in terror.

They all felt it; the sage wasn't going to battle Conall. He was about to kill them; he was about to unmake the very ground they stood on.

Roman's hand was on the hilt of his sword, but the metal was already searing hot to the touch. It was a useless gesture, like raising a twig against a dragon.

He could feel the mix of cold from the snow and the warmth from the sun. Besides him, Eden's face was pale in disbelief.

All her fears for the future were about to become nothing in an instant.

Conall, however, was unshaken. The life-draining abomination he had summoned coalesced into a sphere of roiling, utter blackness.

Conall started to scratch his face, his emotions mixing in an unending cycle. He was laughing.

I, on the other hand, didn't feel the heat, the cold, or the pressure like the others. For me, the world of the five senses felt like it was dissolving. Through the ring on my finger, all I could see at the moment was the cataclysmic storm of lines. Gold, black, red, and yellow.

From Gilbert and Conall both, he saw the complex lines expanding and leaping into reality, changing the course to however they willed.

Conall's attack had already started affecting Gilbert. Even if nobody realized it.

Gilbert raised his hand; the miniature sun pulsed and contorted at once. Gathering itself for the final release. This was the end.

But then, she appeared. Between Gilbert and Conall stood Lilith. She was directly in the path of annihilation. She didn't try to attack Gilbert or make a shield.

She knelt.

Her knees touched the trembling rocks. She lowered her head. It was a simple plea. She wasn't giving herself to Gilbert, nor protecting Conall.

Lilith tried to, if there was any chance. Talk to the rational side of the monster in front of her. Hoping that they wouldn't tear everything here to pieces.

The action was so unexpected that Gilbert stopped in surprise. How can anyone dare to do such an act in front of him? This was absurd—no, even beyond absurdity.

His focus stopped for a second. And the miniature sun, ready to attack, stopped. It was a pause for a second, but in a situation where a second felt like everything. It became eternity for everyone.

It was the only opening I would ever get.

I didn't think. My body moved on its own, driven by a force I didn't understand. A primal instinct to live, perhaps? The ring on my finger screamed harder than ever before.

I sprinted.

The world felt slow; it was a blur of watercolors. It was like moving inside a painting; I shot past everyone. The vampire lords, the servants, and the maids all had a look of accepting death. A fear beyond comprehension.

I moved past Roman, who was still frozen.

I moved past Eden, whose red eyes were wide with fear.

The Varnhame talisman, which I wore as a disguise, burned away from my skin in an instant. My eyes are turning back to golden bronze.

My masked scent was gone, replaced by the alien aroma of the undead.

I became Taro again.

In this state, the lines of magic were achingly clear. I saw everything—their origin, their path, their intent. The beautiful gold came from Gilbert.

The deep crimson of Eden

The gold of Roman's spirit.

The pale blue of Lilith.

And the last one was Coanll.

I gritted my teeth, ignoring all the pressure that was around me; everything felt like it was destroying my physical body. Like going inside the eye of the storm, all at once, with no stop.

I saw them, the mess of the uncountable red lines, the souls of the vessels Lord Winfield had consumed. And Conall was one of them.

And coiled around it all was one yellow line. This was Wonder.

I didn't slow down, and I didn't strike or cast any magic spell.

I didn't see anyone's body, but I saw the lines. I slammed my hand, which held the ring, onto the mix of red lines.

I felt my hand pushing through black goo and flesh. With an undying will, I reached past the flesh, magic, and bone.

I grabbed the yellow thread.

It felt disgusting. I heard screams tearing my mind apart. However, I didn't stop; my very soul closed around the yellow line. I pulled with everything I had, my very being.

I was trying to tear something that wasn't physical but existed on a fundamentally different plane of existence.

And with a final pull, my hand felt like it was shattering, like it wasn't listening to me. But I didn't stop; I didn't breathe.

I cut it.

At first, there was nothing. Just silence.

Then my vision snapped back to reality. I saw myself, my hand bloody, breaking through Conall's chest.

I stepped back, breathing heavily, like I had died. Conall started regenerating slowly. Black goo was still all over him.

However, I felt it. The life-draining curse that Conall was trying to start simply vanished. It didn't stop; it was just gone, erased from existence itself.

Then, the pitch-black halo above Conall that was oozing black goo didn't fade. It was shattering into multiple parts and dissolved before it could reach the ground.

The black goo started to disappear, and then his white hair receded, moving from the top back to the roots, leaving its natural, simple black color.

Conall's body, which was radiating with power, went limp. His power was gone. In its place, there was just a boy.

He collapsed onto the ground, slumping to his knees. His body was devoid of all tension. The pressure across the island vanished, and the wind and the sea went silent for a minute.

For a single moment, Conall looked up, his expression simple and neutral, not smiling or trying to deliver anything. However, his eyes were wide, lost, and filled with confusion. It was as if a child woke up from a lifelong nightmare.

Suddenly, he found himself in a world he didn't recognize, unsure of who he was or how he had gotten there.

He looked at me with a questioning gaze. He looked at his own hands, as if seeing them for the first time. He looked around him at the terrified faces of everyone.

Then agony hit him.

It wasn't the pain of his physical wounds, which were healed completely. It was the agony of a stolen identity. The rage, the ambition, the absolute certainty—the very pillars of the self Wonder had forged for him—were gone. But in the hollow space they left behind, a deeper, more terrible truth remained: it had all still been him.

All that was left was a hole in the center of his soul, deeper than anyone could see or reach.

He opened his mouth and screamed.

It wasn't one of anger. It was one of pure loss. A sound that carried the weight and pain of every soul he held deep down. Of a purpose that was a lie, of a self that he was never to be. Of a life he wouldn't have had if he hadn't taken the hand of the devil.

Gilbert's miniature sun had faded the moment Lilith knelt. As big as it was, it was under his command. He paused, intrigued by the suicidal maid.

He had watched me run and sprint forward. And realized something impossible had happened.

His primary target, Conall, was now screaming like a broken child on the ground.

But Gilbert's gaze was entirely on me.

The sage had felt dread; he understood what had happened on a level deeper than anyone else could see. He was looking at an anomaly that shouldn't exist. How can one be able to touch a soul? Changing its very nature.

This was not a threat to humans or the Froste family, or any kingdom.

But Gilbert hated it; this was a power that shouldn't be held by anybody. The light of his aura was gone, and his gaze changed into one with a purpose.

He raised his hand again, the golden light gathering around his arm.

It was a spear, pointed at a single point. It was aimed directly at the center of the anomaly creature's chest.

It was aimed at my heart.