Chapter 85: A Hero's True Priority

The roar of the Crimson King was a physical force, a tidal wave of sonic power that sent pebbles skittering down the mountainside. My fragile human body screamed at me to run, but Natsuki stood his ground, his spirit blade the only point of defiance against the colossal beast.

“Engage!” he roared, and the battle began.

Elara’s dome of shimmering blue energy erupted around us just as the dragon unleashed a torrent of liquid fire. The shield groaned and cracked under the assault, the air inside becoming unbearably hot. Lirael loosed a volley of arrows that shattered harmlessly against the dragon’s thick scales, while Kaelen darted along the mountain, searching in vain for a weak point in the crimson armor.

Only Natsuki’s blade had any effect. He charged forward, a small figure of light against a mountain of fury. His spirit blade carved shallow, glowing gashes across the beast’s snout, wounds that angered the dragon more than they harmed it. He dodged and weaved in a desperate, beautiful dance of survival. I stood at the back next to Elara, feeling more useless than I had in my entire existence, my heart hammering with terror for him.

Enraged, the dragon changed tactics. It ignored Natsuki, coiling its massive body and aiming its long, spiked tail not at the hero, but at the support in the back. It was a brutally efficient move, aimed directly at Elara. If she fell, the shield would fall, and we would all be incinerated. But the arc of the tail was wide. It would hit Elara, but it would also hit me.

Everything slowed down. I saw the tail descending, a blur of crimson and black spikes. Natsuki had a split-second, impossible choice. He could protect Elara, the party’s vital defensive mage. Or he could protect me, the clumsy, amnesiac girl he barely knew.

He didn’t hesitate.

With a desperate cry, he launched himself, not towards Elara, but towards me. He threw his body in front of mine, his arms a protective shield. “Aki!” was the only word he shouted.

The world exploded. The dragon’s tail hit Natsuki with the force of a landslide. The blow sent us flying, and we crashed hard against the rocky ground. Pain shot through my mortal body, but it was nothing compared to the terror that seized me as Natsuki collapsed, a deep, ugly gash torn in his side. His spirit blade flickered and died.

“Natsuki!” Lirael’s shriek was one of pure horror. The dragon, seeing the hero wounded, turned its full attention on him, fire gathering in its throat for the killing blow.

There was no time. The girls were too far away. My mind raced through my pathetic mortal skill set. There was no answer. My glitter was useless. The only thing I had, the only thing that could save him, was the one thing I couldn’t use. My divinity.

But as I looked at Natsuki, bleeding on the ground because he had chosen to save me, the rules of the cosmos and the warnings of Isao burned away in a firestorm of pure, desperate love. I wouldn’t let him die.

I scrambled to my feet and planted myself between Natsuki’s broken form and the descending head of the dragon. I let the floodgates open. Just a crack, but it was enough.

“For truth and justice!” I shrieked, the mortal words a thin veil for the cosmic power I was about to unleash. “[MAXIMUM SPARKLE SHOT]!”

It was not glitter. It was a silent, blinding detonation of pure, unadulterated reality-warping light. An explosion of amethyst energy erupted from my hands, not as an attack, but as a statement: You shall not pass.

The dragon’s fire-breath hit the wall of my power and simply ceased to exist. The colossal beast, stunned by a force it could not comprehend, recoiled with a roar of confusion. The light faded, and I collapsed to my knees, drained and trembling.

The other girls, stunned but unhurt, saw their opening. “Now!” Lirael screamed, and a single, silver-tipped arrow glowed with cold, white light. Kaelen’s daggers became a blur as she dashed for the wound on the beast’s snout, while Elara began a new chant, her hands weaving a spear of pure, golden sunlight.

Their coordinated attack struck true. The Crimson King let out one last, agonized roar of defeat. It staggered back, grievously wounded, and retreated into the darkness of its cave.

Silence descended, broken only by the whistling of the wind and my own ragged breaths. We had survived.

Kaelen and Lirael were already at Natsuki’s side, their faces etched with a desperate worry that transcended their earlier hostility towards me. Elara was staring, not at the retreating dragon, not at the wounded Natsuki, but at me. Her expression was one of pure, unadulterated, terrified awe. She had seen it. She had felt it. She knew.

I didn’t care. All I could see was Natsuki, his chest rising and falling in shallow breaths. I had saved him. But as I looked at the chaos, at the broken hero and the suspicious, terrified eyes of his companions, I knew I had also just broken everything.