Chapter 21: The Walking Disaster
"Mama, when I grow up… I wanna make a world where nobody has to cry."
Laughter. A child's laughter, sweet and bright, like the chime of a bell in spring.
A pair of small hands reached for hers, tiny fingers curling around calloused ones. She squeezed back gently, feeling the warmth, the life in that fragile touch.
"A world where no one fights, where no one gets hurt! Wouldn't that be wonderful?"
Yes. Yes, it would.
The sun was warm overhead, golden rays filtering through the cherry blossoms. Petals danced in the wind, twirling around them like nature itself was listening, like it too believed in the dream of a little girl.
A perfect world.
A world without pain.
A world where she could grow up happy… safe.
The woman knelt down, brushing her fingers through silken strands of hair. "That's a beautiful dream," she whispered, smiling.
The girl beamed, eyes alight with innocent conviction. "Then I'll make it come true!"
The sun shone. The petals danced.
And then—
Darkness.
The scent of iron filled her lungs.
Smoke. Screams. Flames swallowing everything, turning dreams to ash.
She ran.
Her feet were bare, scraped raw against the dirt and rubble, but she didn't stop. Her vision blurred, shadows twisting around her, whispering, laughing.
The sky was black, the cherry blossoms gone.
All that remained was fire.
And her.
A small, crumpled body beneath the rubble. A single, bloodied hand reaches out. Fingers twitching. Trying—desperately— to hold on.
She fell to her knees.
The girl's lips moved, but no sound came.
Only a whisper in the wind.
"Mama…?"
The world cracked.
A choked sob. Shaking hands clawing at debris, pulling, pushing, trying to lift what could never be lifted. Trying to undo what could never be undone.
"Mama… I'm scared."
No. No, no, no, no, no—
Her nails broke against the stones. Blood smeared across pale skin.
"Please… don't let it end like this…"
She screamed.
The wind howled.
The flames roared—
And then—
Silence.
She sat there, numb, staring at the tiny, lifeless hand in hers. So small. So fragile.
So cold.
Her daughter's dream was gone.
Burned away by the world's cruelty.
The world had taken everything.
And so, in return—
She would take the world.
X-X-X-X-X-X
X-X-X-X-X-X
"Ma'am... it's ready."
The voice was taut with strain.
The Matriarch slowly opened her eyes. Fleeting visions of a world reforged by necessity and fire faded into the dark. Her gaze landed on Evangeline, whose gloved hands trembled as she maintained the final incantation. Arcane circles pulsed around her like halos of platinum and silver. Sweat ran down her porcelain face in rivulets, her breath sharp and shallow.
"Good," the Matriarch murmured.
She turned back toward the obsidian egg in the center of the chamber. Veins of red light pulsed beneath its shell—like a heart preparing to beat again.
"Let us begin."
Behind them, Jin Miyamoto sagged in his restraints, body trembling, but held upright by sheer will. His robes were torn, bloodied, and burnt. Sweat clung to his silver hair, but his eyes—those eyes—blazed with defiance.
"You're out of your mind," Jin rasped. "You'll kill us all."
The Matriarch didn't flinch. She raised her hand, and the ritual circle ignited in deep crimson light. Ancient glyphs glowed to life. Arcs of magic surged upward from the floor, humming with something older than time.
"Your protests mean nothing now."
"You're resurrecting Vaelgryn," Jin spat, voice raw but steady. "The Walking Disaster. A thing even legends feared. And you think this is salvation?"
"That thing was sealed away—not because it was misunderstood. Not because it was some untapped gift. It was sealed because even the greatest among us couldn't destroy it."
Finally, she turned to him. Her gaze was cold steel—without warmth or hesitation.
"Sealed," she repeated. "Because they lacked the strength to control it. So they buried it—and the world limped on."
"Musashi wasn't a coward," Jin growled. "He was a man—a warrior—who saw what couldn't be defeated, and chose to keep it from destroying everything. He didn't pass it on like a cursed torch for someone like you to play god."
The egg pulsed, shadows growing long across the chamber. A low, groaning hum began to rise from within it—ancient, awful.
"You speak as if reverence is strength," the Matriarch said, stepping into the circle like it were a sanctum and not a furnace. "But reverence builds nothing. Fear preserves nothing. Only action reshapes the world. Only sacrifice."
Jin's hands clenched, knuckles white.
"You're not making sacrifices. You're gambling lives. And for what? Power? Legacy?"
She looked past him.
"For a future without strife."
The egg screamed. Evangeline raised her hands.
"The sigil is complete!" she cried, voice echoing with ancient tongues. "Commencing Sealing Magic: Ragna Vinctura!"
Blinding light erupted. Sigils formed midair—fractal, recursive. Glyphs seared across the stone. Chains of white fire lashed the egg, branding its surface with scripture.
Then—it cracked.
A jagged fissure split the obsidian shell. Jet-black miasma poured out, writhing and shrieking as it was pulled into the glowing chains. The chamber shook.
Vaelgryn was being sealed—not imprisoned, but fused.
The Matriarch stood, arms wide. The energy pierced her chest. The chains twisted, redirecting into her. Some bit into flesh. Others formed runes on her skin. She gasped—pain etched across her face—but remained standing as the demon's destructive power embedded itself into her soul.
Her aura surged. Her body trembled. Her heartbeat thundered like a war drum.
Jin felt the weight—crushing, suffocating. He took a ragged breath, the scream in his chest not born of fear, but of desperate resolve.
"NO!"
He exploded forward, golden aura erupting. His spirit blazed like a supernova.
"Sword Saint Battle Arts…" he whispered, slicing his palm through the air.
"DRAGON HUNTING FLASH!"
The golden slash tore toward the ritual like judgment from the heavens—
And struck just as the egg began to collapse.
A scream rang out—Vaelgryn's…and the Matriarch's.
The egg exploded in a torrent of light. The circle shattered. The glyphs ruptured. Vaelgryn's soul screamed as fragments were flung back into the void—denied a full rebirth.
The backlash flung Jin across the room.
Silence.
Then a whisper. Twisted. Malignant.
"You…insignificant…WORM."
Reality warped. Air buckled.
The Matriarch screamed—inhuman. Caught in a maelstrom of violet lightning and black fire. What remained of Vaelgryn—corrupt, partial—flooded into her.
Her body changed.
Skin blackened to obsidian, etched with molten runes. Nails became claws. Her eyes flared into vertical infernos. Horns split from her skull. Her cloak burned away, revealing a body reforged by divine corruption. Tendrils of living shadow lashed from her spine. Forming into wings of darkness.
But her face… still hers. Still regal. Still human—barely.
She stepped forward.
"You ruined EVERYTHING."
A blast of force surged from her with a snarl, slamming Jin into the far wall.
She stood in the broken circle, power incomplete—but terrifying.
A demigod born of ambition and wrath.
Jin coughed blood. Still grinning.
"Guess you're only half the demon you wanted to be."
She blurred.
Her claws kissed his throat.
"Then half will be more than enough to end you."
X-X-X-X-X-X
"She's going to revive the demon from the Book of Zeref. The demon your great-grandfather fought over a century ago."
"The Walking Disaster—Vaelgryn."
Silence fell like a blade.
We stared at Kaiser, the weight of his words striking harder than any spell. But my thoughts were already racing. A demon from the Book of Zeref… That wasn't just some bedtime horror story. That meant something terrifying. Something real. A being born of pure destruction—like Deliora, Lullaby, and the rest of Zeref's damned creations.
And if it was true…
Then the very foundation of Ginger Village—the home I promised to protect—was built on a lie.
Musashi Miyamoto.
Lance's great-grandfather. The first to be called Legendary Swordsman. A man said to have mastered a style so powerful, so precise, that even mages feared him—despite the fact he had no magic at all. His Sword Saint Battle Arts weren't just a fighting style. They were history. Legacy.
He was said to have slain the demon Vaelgryn.
But now…
"That's impossible!" Lance shouted, his voice shaking more than his blade. "That's just some old myth! Vaelgryn was killed! There's nothing left to revive!"
Kaiser smirked, his voice cold. "That's what you were led to believe. But the truth… is uglier. Your grandpa told us himself. Vaelgryn wasn't killed. He was sealed. Buried deep in Silver Mountain."
He looked toward the peak, as if he could see the corruption already leaking out. "The Matriarch intends to break that seal. She will consume his power. Become a god. And then, remake the world in her image—a world without conflict, without chaos… and without freedom."
The air thickened with dread. Lance shook his head in disbelief. "No… no way…"
"Every legend has a sliver of truth," I said softly. "And this one feels like a blade pressed to our throats. Real or not—we can't take the risk."
Pip twitched beside me. "Taruko… something's wrong…!"
A shiver shot through her. And then it hit us all.
A pulse. Deep. Monstrous.
Like the heartbeat of the mountain itself.
My knees buckled, sword digging into the dirt to keep me upright. The sky seemed to bend, the earth groaned under some invisible pressure. Lance clutched his chest, his blades rattling in his grip.
"What... what is this...?" he gasped.
Kaiser closed his eyes. "It has begun. The ritual to awaken Vaelgryn's power. Soon, she'll become something far worse than the demon itself."
"No," I growled, standing. "Not if we stop her first."
"WHAT?!" Pip screeched. "Did you not feel that? That's the energy of something BAD BAD BAD!"
I turned to her, steady now. "We don't have a choice. If we don't fight back—then we've already lost."
Lance grinned beside me, his usual cocky fire returning. "Heh. Not every day you get a shot at slaying a demon."
"Pip," I said, "go find Erza. Gray. Natsu. The others. They'll need to know. We'll buy you time."
"A-Alright… just don't die!" she cried, scampering off.
We turned back—
"Why do you fight?"
Kaiser's voice stopped us cold.
I blinked, turning to see him staring at me with something unreadable in his gaze.
"This is your home. I understand that. But this? This is suicide. You're going to face a power you can't even comprehend. Your odds are worse than zero." He scoffed. "Your journey ends here. Let me spare you the illusion—you're not strong enough."
Lance scowled, but I raised a hand to stop him.
I stepped forward.
"...You're right."
Kaiser's eyes narrowed.
I didn't raise my voice. I didn't shout.
But every word trembled with purpose.
"We're not strong enough. We've been fighting uphill from the start. We're just kids... playing soldiers in a war we didn't ask for."
"But we're still going."
"Why?"
I looked up. Past him. Toward the mountain.
"Because I made a promise—to protect this village. To honor the will of Musashi Miyamoto. To walk the same path he did, not because I have to... but because I choose to."
I turned to Kaiser, eyes blazing.
"You talk about a world of order. A world where the strong never suffer, where the weak never rise. You think that's peace. But it's not."
"It's stagnation."
I took another step forward, my voice rising.
"Being handed power… being given the title of strongest, in a world where no one has the will to fight for it…? That's not strength. That's weakness in disguise."
"I don't want to inherit greatness. I want to earn it."
I unsheathed my sword, holding it to the sky.
"I want to become the greatest swordsman in Fiore. Not through destiny. Not through bloodlines. But through every battle I survive. Through every scar I carry."
"I want the world to remember that Taruko Hikari lived—that he fought, bled, and chose to stand for something when it mattered most!"
Lance chuckled. "Now that's the Taruko I know."
I glanced at him, smiling.
Kaiser was silent. But he wasn't scoffing anymore.
"You ask why we fight?" I said, locking eyes with him one last time. "Because I still have a sword in my hand. And as long as I do—I'll keep carving my own legend."
I turned.
And we ran.
Into the dark. Toward the rising evil.
Not to survive.
But to make history.
X-X-X-X-X-X
Pip zipped across the broken terrain like a pink blur of fur and panic, her long ears flapping behind her like twin banners of stress. Her tiny paws barely touched the ground as she bounded over fallen trees and crumbled stone, dodging pools of corrupted ethernano that bubbled with malevolence.
"This is bad, this is BAD BAD BAD!" she squeaked, her voice high-pitched and frantic. "That creepy death-vibe pressure is still rising! I knew I should've stayed at the guild and made cookies with Eliana!"
Despite the fear pounding in her chest, Pip's eyes darted left and right, sharp and focused, scanning for any sign of their friends.
"I just gotta find Erza! Or Gray! Or even that fire-breathing idiot—just someone who's not about to become demon food!"
She skidded to a halt at the edge of a clearing—and nearly had a heart attack.
Standing in the middle of the wartorn field was Erza, very much alive... and very much angry.
The scarlet-haired knight was in the midst of interrogating stray Crimson Thorn members. Normally, Pip would've been relieved to see her. But...
"TELL ME EVERYTHING YOU KNOW!"
WHAM!
Erza clobbered one of the cultists when they didn't answer fast enough. Her expression was so fierce it could've scared off a demon worse than Vaelgryn himself.
"TELL ME EVERYTHING YOU KNOW!"
WHAM!
"TELL ME EVERYTHING YOU KNOW!!"
WHAM!
Pip sweatdropped as she watched the young knight continue knocking cultists unconscious with righteous fury.
She almost felt bad for them.
Almost.
'…Wait… wasn't I here for something?' Pip blinked, before yelping. 'OH! RIGHT!'
"Erzaaaa!!" Pip cried out, racing toward the redhead.
Erza paused mid-interrogation as Pip bolted up to her. The cultist she had by the throat was promptly dropped like a sack of potatoes.
"Pip?"
"WAAAAAAAAAAH!!!"
Erza yelped as the bunny launched herself at her face, knocking her off balance and sending both tumbling to the ground. After a brief struggle, Erza pried the frantic rabbit off.
"Pip! Calm down! What's wrong? Where's Taruko?" she asked firmly, lightly shaking the bunny.
Pip sniffled. "H-He and Lance fought that Cruiser guy—"
"Kaiser."
"—yeah, him! But that's not the point! The Matriarch lady is about to absorb the power of a demon called Vaelgryn! Lance's great-grandfather sealed it away over a hundred years ago! Taruko and Lance are headed there to stop her—we have to help!"
Erza's eyes widened. "A demon…?"
Pip nodded frantically, scanning the field. "Where are Mira and Maiya?!"
"They went to free the villagers Crimson Thorn imprisoned deeper in the mountain," Erza replied, her brows furrowed.
"Oh…" Pip mumbled. Then her eyes caught something. "Is that…?"
Erza followed her gaze to see Orochi tied to a tree with magically-forged rope, courtesy of Maiya's Metal Make Magic. She gave a small nod and placed Pip on her shoulder.
"Yes. That's one of the Four Pillars—Orochi. We managed to take him down."
"Woaaah…!" Pip's eyes sparkled. "I knew you could do it!"
Erza allowed herself a brief smile at the rabbit's admiration.
"Erza! Pip!"
The two turned as Cana and Nala approached from the distance. Cana waved with a grin, but Erza's smile faltered when she saw the state her friend was in. Her jacket was in tatters, her dress scorched and torn, and her skin bore the marks of battle.
"Cana, what happened to you?!" Erza asked, alarmed.
"I blew myself up," Cana said casually, eyes locking on Orochi. "Hey, is that one of the Pillars?"
Erza blinked. "W-What—"
"She did blow herself up," Nala confirmed, ears twitching as she watched Cana seal Orochi within a Trap Card. "In her defense, there weren't many options left…"
Erza sweatdropped. "I… I see…"
"What's being blown up like?" Pip asked, head tilted.
"Painful," Cana chirped. "And hot. Like, scorching hot."
"Oooh…"
"I don't think this is something we should be focusing on right now," Nala muttered.
Erza nodded. "Nala is right. We—"
VWOOOOOOOOSH!!!
The sky above twisted into an ominous violet, a towering pillar of dark magic tearing into the heavens from the peak of Silver Mountain. A malevolent energy surged outward, and all four girls instinctively tensed.
Erza's eyes widened, her breath catching as she felt the suffocating pressure rolling off the wave of power.
"W-What is that…?" Cana whispered, her earlier levity gone.
Pip whimpered. "Oh no, it's starting…"
"What? What's starting?" Erza demanded.
"The ritual! The one to steal Vaelgryn's power and make the world all boring and awful and demon-y!"
"E-Eh?"
"That's impossible," Nala cut in, shaking her head. "Vaelgryn was slain over a hundred years ago. There's no way—"
"But he wasn't! He was sealed in the mountain! The Cruiser guy—"
"Kaiser."
"—said so!"
Nala frowned. "We're trusting the word of Crimson Thorn now?"
"…Whether you believe it or not, the proof is right there." Erza pointed at the pillar of dark magic. "Right now, Taruko and Lance are headed straight for that."
She turned to Nala and Cana. "We need to go. Now."
"Right!" the two girls nodded in unison.
Pip whimpered as she climbed back onto Erza's shoulder. "This is gonna suuuuuck…"
X-X-X-X-X-X
"Is it really okay for us to just... leave him there?"
Boota's voice, soft and unsure, cut through the quiet silence as the trio of Gray, Natsu, and himself aimlessly wandered through the dark caverns of Silver Mountain. Boota, being the most familiar with the mountain, took front and center, with the two Fairy Tail wizards following his lead.
"Yeah." Gray replied, sliding his hands into his pockets with a shrug. "Like I said, that guy should be frozen for a good couple of hours; and even if he did unthaw, he'd have to recover from being frozen inside and out. He won't be a problem."
Natsu, who's arms were folded behind his head, snorted. "Tsk, I kinda wanted to deal the finishing blow, though... damn show off."
Gray's brow twitched. "What matters is that we beat 'em." he paused, then smirked. "But... I guess this mean I beat a super strong opponent that you were struggling with. So that means I'm better than you!"
"HUH?! YOU WOULDN'T HAVE BEEN ABLE TO LAND THAT ICE-MAKE FLUSH GREASE MOVE WITHOUT ME!"
"IT'S ICE-MAKE: FLASH FREEZE, IDIOT!!"
Boota sighed as the two bickered, before giving Gray a curious look. "Say, you froze him inside and out—how is Eiji not dead, then?"
Gray paused, his forehead clashed against Natsu's as he glanced over Boota. He pulled back, causing the pink-haired boy to yelp as he stumbled forward.
Gray rubbed the bridge of his nose, muttering, "That's actually a good question..." His voice lowered, a tinge of seriousness slipping in. "It's not like I held back. But there was… something off about his body. Like it could keep healing itself, even while frozen solid. I've seen monsters regenerate before, but not like that."
Natsu stretched with a loud groan and cracked his knuckles. "Yeah, that guy was a freak. His smell was all messed up too—like part beast, part something else. Not human."
"More like a rabid mutt," Gray muttered.
"Watch it, Ice-for-brains!" Natsu barked. "You're lucky I softened him up!"
Gray gave a dry chuckle. "Please. If I'd waited for you to finish 'softening' him up, we'd still be running in circles."
Boota blinked, glancing between them with growing confusion. "You guys argue like old men..."
"That's cause Gray fights like an old man!" Natsu grinned, jabbing a thumb at his chest. "Me? I'm all fire, speed, and fists—bam! Just like that!"
Gray scoffed. "You're all heat and zero brains. That's why half your attacks missed."
"WHAT DID YOU SAY?!"
Before the two could descend into another scuffle, the air around them suddenly shifted.
It was subtle at first—like the mountain itself took a breath.
Then it pressed down.
Hard.
Boota's steps halted, his head snapping up. "Wait… do you feel that?"
Gray's banter died on his tongue. The hairs on his arms stood upright as a suffocating weight bore down on him. His gut twisted, his pulse quickened. His magic instinctively stirred in response—cold rising up in waves like armor trying to shield him.
Natsu grimaced, his hand reaching up to cover his nose. "Ugh... it's like breathing in poison...!"
It was the same direction they were heading. Deeper into the mountain.
Boota swallowed hard. "That… that's not normal magic. I've explored this mountain several times—and I've never felt anything like that before."
Gray didn't speak for a long moment. His eyes were wide—focused on nothing, yet filled with something deep-rooted and ancient.
A memory.
A nightmare.
Deliora.
He hadn't felt something so grotesque and massive since then. That pressure, like standing on the edge of an avalanche made of rage and despair—it was almost identical.
He took a shaky breath, clenching his fists.
"...That magic… it's like a monster." He looked toward the deeper cavern, the shadows ahead darker than before. "Something terrible's waking up."
Natsu stood up straight, his teeth grit, eyes burning. "Whatever it is, we're not running."
Gray gave him a sideways glance, then nodded slowly. "No. We're not."
Boota looked between them, visibly shaken but trying to be brave. "You think it's another one of Crimson Thorn?"
Gray shook his head. "No... this is worse. Way worse."
Natsu cracked his neck, flames licking at the edges of his fists, rushing ahead. "Then we go give it a proper Fairy Tail welcome!"
"N-Natsu, hold on!" Boota yelped, but ran after him.
"...Idiots," Gray muttered.
But he followed.
X-X-X-X-X-X
"Come, everyone! This way!"
Maiya ushered the villagers out of the mines with urgency. After defeating Orochi and recovering a bit from the battle, she decided now was the best time to go and free the villagers that were being held against their will and forced to excavate one of the deeper mine deposits. Mirajane offered to help her, as she'd deal with any remaining Crimson Thorn members that remained behind to stay and guard the prisoners. Erza opted to stay behind and interrogate the members they defeated alongside Orochi.
Judging by Mirajane's evil cackling as they left the young knight to her devices, Maiya could only assume that this meant that Erza's method of interrogation meant less forcing the answers out through manipulation and moreso beating them senseless until they either spilled everything or nothing at all...
Speaking of, the goth girl clicked her tongue as she kicked one of the downed cultists, eliciting a groan of pain and a whimper from them. "Tsk, what a bunch of pansies."
"Did they spill anything important?" Maiya asked, counting each villager to make sure they didn't miss anyone.
"Nah. These bastards are tight-lipped." Mirajane grumbled, angrily stuffing her hands into her pockets. "Tch. What a waste of time."
"It wasn't a complete waste," Maiya murmured softly, smiling in satisfaction as the remaining villagers escaped the compound. "We managed to free most of the villagers"
Mirajane paused before sighing, rubbing the back of her neck. "... yeah, I guess you've got a—"
Mirajane froze, her entire body going completely rigid. Maiya grew confused when the girl grew quiet. She turned to her with a soft murmur, "Mirajane? What's wro—"
She gasped.
Mirajane, the normally fierce, brash, and potty mouthed demoness that Maiya grew to know over the course of their battle, was wide eyed and pale.
Maiya's heart skipped a beat.
"Mirajane?"
The silver-haired girl didn't respond right away. Her breath hitched, a cold sweat trailing down her temples as her eyes slowly scanned the ceiling of the cavern, as if something monstrous were looming just out of view.
"No... no, no, no…" Mirajane whispered, barely audible.
Maiya stepped closer, reaching out a hand in concern. "What is it? What do you feel?"
Mirajane stumbled back, clutching her arms tightly around herself. Her nails dug into her sleeves. "Something's here," she hissed, voice trembling with a mix of anger and fear. "Something vile."
The weight of her words hung heavy in the air. Maiya felt it too now—a pressure creeping in like a suffocating fog. Her chest tightened, and the once-stale air of the mines turned foul, tinged with something ancient and oppressive.
"It's… it's like it's everywhere," Mirajane continued, voice growing more panicked. "It's not just dark… it's wrong. Twisted. I-It feels like it's crawling over my skin." She gritted her teeth, clutching at her head. "I—I can hear it laughing."
Maiya's eyes widened. "You're hearing voices?"
"Not voices." Mira's gaze snapped toward her, a feral edge in her eye. "It's like a scream with no sound. Like the whole mountain is choking on it. This… this isn't just magic—it's demonic." She trembled, and her next words came in a whisper: "This is worse than any Take Over I've ever felt…"
Maiya tried to steady her breathing, placing a firm hand on Mira's shoulder. The girl was shaking.
"Hey. Hey—listen to me. You're not alone, okay? We'll face this. Together."
Mirajane swallowed hard, eyes darting around like a cornered animal. For the first time since Maiya met her, Mira looked small. Vulnerable. As if her own magic—her own connection to the demonic—was betraying her.
"I don't think this is something we can face…" Mira whispered.
And then, as if in response to her words, the pressure deepened. The stone beneath their feet groaned. The torches flickered wildly, casting long, monstrous shadows against the walls.
Somewhere, deeper in the mountain, something stirred.
Maiya's grip on Mirajane's shoulder tightened. "Then we warn the others. Now."
Mirajane nodded numbly, forcing herself to stand tall, even as her knees trembled beneath her.
Whatever was coming…
It wasn't human. It wasn't even a demon.
It was worse.
X-X-X-X-X-X
"What do you think we'll see when we get up there?"
Lance's voice cut through the tense silence like a hot knife through butter as we made a mad dash for the source of that haunting, ominous feeling. We didn't say much during the run. Our minds filled with a whirlwind of chaotic thoughts that made it hard to focus up. But I knew that I couldn't let my mind wander—I had to stay sharp. Or else I couldn't guarantee I'd make it out of this alive.
"I dunno," I muttered out a reply, "Nothing good, obviously. But I can't say for sure."
"Any plan for what we'll do?" Lance asked.
"Fight hard. I don't got much else." I said regretfully.
Lance huffed, "Always the simple stuff with you, huh? You never were that sharp,"
My brow twitched. "Like you're one to talk,"
A comfortable silence befell between us. Lance and I... I wouldn't say we were 'cool'. But we were definitely on better terms than we were when I initially arrived back here. That's more than I can ask for.
I don't know if our friendship could ever go back to the way it was before... but there was hope for it to become stronger and better in the future.
'That's why we have to defeat the Matriarch here and now.' I thought with determination.
"Do you think they have my Grandfather up there?" Lance asked, his voice surprisingly subdued.
I spared him a glance, then focused on the light at the end of the tunnel; where the dark presence was darkest. My eyes narrowed.
"Only one way to find out."
We burst from the tunnel into the cold bite of open air, the summit of Silver Mountain stretching before us like a scar carved into the world. The sky above churned with stormclouds—black and swollen—rumbling with thunder that echoed off the peaks like the bellow of some ancient god. The summit wasn't just cold—it was dead. The air hung heavy with ash, bitter incense, and blood. The snow here had long since melted, replaced with ritual markings scorched into the stone like burning veins.
Crimson Thorn cultists littered the site in a sea of dark red hooded cloaks. At the peak, I spotted a shocking sight. Lance's Grandfather was pinned against the wall, held at claw point by what looked to be a cross between a woman and a demon. Her obsidian black skin, snow white hair... and those inky black wings. The foul magic radiating off of her—that had to be the Matriarch.
'Which means that she already absorbed Vaelgryn's power.' I thought grimly.
"GRANDFATHER!!!"
Lance's voice cut through the roaring winds like a sharp blade, alerting the dark guild of our presence. Jin's eyes flicked over to us with shock and horror—most notably, me, where his surprise continued to rise. We paid him no heed—not yet. Lance let out a roar, raising his two tanto blades and swinging them down in an arc that crashed into the earth.
"SWORD SAINT DRAGON'S ROAR!!!"
A piercing roar echoed through the air as a beam of draconic energy ruptured from the earth, sending a crowd of Crimson Thorn cultists flying with pained cries. The rest began to converge on us; but I didn't let them get far.
With a wave of my hand, my Blades Magic thrummed to life—and a hailstorm of magic blades descended from the sky in a shower of screaming metal and crackling energy; piercing weak points and tearing into clothes, pinning them all to the ground. With my other hand, I forced the winds to bend to my will, creating a focalized burst of wind beneath Lance's feet to send him flying.
"RAAAAAAAARGH!!!" Lance roared, magic energy sheathing around his body as performed a Sword Saint Dragon's Sword Horn; drilling towards the Matriarch at high-speed to intercept her before she could puncture new air holes into Jin's neck. "GET AWAY FROM HIM!!"
The Matriarch snarled and flapped her wings, pushing herself off the ground and evading Lance's attack effortlessly. Jin coughed up blood, slumping against the wall as Lance rushed to his side. "Grandfather!"
"L-Lance, what are you... doing here...?!" Jin wheezed.
"What does it look like?! I'm saving you!" Lance snapped, gripping his blades tighter.
"No... you need to run...! You can't possibly hope to beat her—"
"Sorry, Mr. Miyamoto, but that's not happening." I said, sliding next to Lance and raising my sword. "We wouldn't be able to get far even if we tried."
"Taruko..." Jin murmured, surprise etching it's way into his withered voice. "So it really is you, my boy..."
"... Yes." I nodded, keeping my eyes on the Matriarch. "We can save the reunion and explanations for later. What's the situation?"
I could feel Jin's eyes on our backs before he sighed deeply, realizing that we weren't going anywhere. "That woman... she's absorbed Vaelgryn's power. I managed to halt the ritual—I can sense it. She only has half of that terrible demon's power..."
"So she isn't at full power, then?" I smiled. "We might just have a chance."
"You aren't truly going to fight her, are you...?!"
"We are!" Lance growled. "She attacked our village—which means she's our problem too!"
"It's not just our village at stake. Others will be too." I said, gripping onto my sword.
I doubt this chick could get very far, especially with only half the demon's power. There were tons of monsters out there in the world that could wipe the floor with her effortlessly if they gave it some actual effort. But just because I could count the number of wizards that could stand against the Matriarch, didn't mean I was just going to let her go on a rampage in some vain attempt at reshaping the world in her image.
No. We were going to stop her here. No matter what.
The Matriarch's wings unfurled behind her like a curtain of darkness, her eyes glowing with that soft, eerie luminescence—neither warm nor cold. Just… hollow.
She hovered above us in silence, her gaze sweeping over the battlefield—her battlefield—with the kind of serene detachment only the truly lost could muster.
Then, she spoke.
"So loud… so desperate." Her voice was like silk dipped in venom. "You cling to your blades. Your fire. Your magic. All the tools of conflict. Still dreaming of victory as though it ever truly meant anything."
I clenched my fists. "Better than dreaming of turning the whole world into a lifeless dollhouse."
She tilted her head, like a curious child peering into a dying flame. "You think this is life? This endless spiral of struggle? Of pain? You raise your swords like prayers… and you wonder why the gods stay silent."
"You don't get it," Lance snapped, stepping in front of Jin. "We fight because we have to. Because people like you won't stop until someone makes you!"
"No, little dragon," she murmured, her voice laced with a kind of grief I couldn't place. "You fight because you believe you must. You were taught that struggle is sacred. That it forges heroes. But all it ever truly breeds… is more ash."
Her wings stretched wider, casting a shadow across the summit. "I remember the fire. I remember the screams. I remember watching the sky fall as men in robes played at war with powers they could not hope to control."
Something cold twisted in my gut. She wasn't just talking about any war. She saw it.
My throat ran dry.
"... you lost someone." I said, voice low.
A flicker passed through her expression. A heartbeat of something human. Then it was gone.
"I was shown the truth," she said. "And in that moment, I realized… peace cannot be asked for. It must be imposed. Magic. Emotion. Will. These are the roots of chaos. If I burn them away… there will be no more war. No more grief. Only stillness. Only silence."
"That's not peace," I spat. "That's just death with better branding."
Her wings beat once, stirring the snowless dust into a slow, suffocating spiral.
"If you cannot see salvation in stillness," she said, "then I will carve it into the world myself."
Energy began to coalesce around her, the shadows deepening into a pitch that even light seemed to shy from. Her voice dropped to a whisper—more felt than heard.
"You'll thank me when the screaming finally stops."
I raised my sword. "Then we'll just have to keep screaming until you do."
Lance grit his teeth, his blades lighting up with crackling magic energy. "Come on, Taruko."
"Yeah," I nodded, my blade humming to life with a flare of Storm Magic. "Let's show her the difference between silence… and defiance."
Jin closed his eyes in resignation. "Be careful, the two of you..."
"Be careful?"
I smirked.
"Where's the fun in that?"