The air in the cavern turned cold.
Filvis's words weren't just an answer—they were final. Lefiya froze. The bit of hope she'd been holding onto vanished, replaced by a sick, hollow feeling in her chest.
"Partnered?" she repeated, barely able to say it. "Commander? Filvis… no. That's not possible. Dionysus wouldn't—"
Her voice faltered. Tears welled up despite her trying to keep it together. The memory of the god who laughed awkwardly and sipped wine didn't match what she was hearing.
"You know me," she said quietly. "Remember Riveria? The training? Monsterphilia? You fought with us."
Filvis didn't react. She stood still in the eerie green light, her face unreadable. Her eyes, once alert, were now distant—cold.
"Knossos doesn't have room for emotions, Lefiya," she said flatly.
"You're holding onto memories made in ignorance. Dionysus-sama sees the truth. Orario is broken. It needs to fall before it can be rebuilt. This Dungeon is the starting point."
"Rebuilt?" Lefiya's voice cracked, rising with disbelief. "You're siding with Evilus—with monsters? They kill without mercy. They ambushed us! Raul, Marten, Elina—do you even care if they're alive?"
Her hands clenched. "Is that what you believe in now? That this is justice?"
Filvis didn't look away. "Sacrifices have to be made. You were never supposed to be here."
Her grip on her staff tightened.
"You weren't meant to see any of this. Now that you have… I can't let you leave."
Her voice was calm. Not angry. Just resolute—like someone making a hard choice they'd already accepted.
Lefiya saw the change. Filvis's stance shifted, and magic began to build—dark and unnatural, warping the air around her staff. Every instinct told Lefiya to move.
She dove to the side, taking cover behind the same rubble she'd used earlier. A heartbeat later, Filvis's voice rang out, steady and sharp.
"Oblivion's Embrace, consume the light. Shadow's Maw, devour the sight. Abyssus Vorago!"
The air twisted as a sphere of darkness formed at the tip of Filvis's staff.
It didn't blast outward—it pulled in, swallowing light and warmth. With a small motion, Filvis sent it flying.
Lefiya's cover didn't break—it dissolved. Stone crumbled to dust and vanished into the void.
The pull nearly dragged her in, her cloak tugged toward it before the spell vanished, leaving a smooth crater in the cavern floor.
Lefiya stumbled back, coughing as dust clung to her face. Her heart pounded. That spell wasn't just meant to hurt—it was meant to erase her.
"Filvis! Stop!" she shouted, her voice cracking.
"Whatever they told you, whatever Dionysus promised—it's not real! They're using you!" She forced herself up, gripping Forest Teardrop like a lifeline.
"Please… remember who you are."
Filvis walked forward, calm and steady. "I know exactly who I am," she said flatly.
"I'm a blade for the world Dionysus-sama is creating. And you, Lefiya, are a piece of the old one that needs to be cut away."
She lifted her staff again. "Ignis Tenebris."
Black flames curled from Filvis's staff—silent, cold, and fast. They shot toward Lefiya like striking serpents, leaving frost where they passed.
Panic surged, but she forced it down. You can't run. You can't hide. That spell had erased solid rock. Filvis wasn't bluffing. She wasn't hesitating. She wasn't the same person anymore.
Fight back. Or die.
Riveria's voice echoed in her mind. Control the field. Use what's around you.
Lefiya skipped the chant. She drove mana into Forest Teardrop and slammed it against the uneven flagstone underfoot.
"Luminous Wind!"
Not a beam. Not a bolt. A desperate, wide-area pulse of concussive light erupted from Lefiya, raw and unrefined.
It surged outward in all directions, crashing into the oncoming black fire.
The cold flames recoiled, writhing and flickering as the shockwave broke their cohesion. For a moment, they halted.
Then—
CRACK! SHATTER!
A cluster of nearby crystals detonated under the stress, bursting like glass under pressure. Emerald shards flew in all directions.
Filvis didn't flinch. A dark barrier snapped up around her just in time, the fragments clattering harmlessly off its surface.
Lefiya didn't wait.
While the cavern flashed with residual glare and flying debris, she dove hard to the side, rolled once, and slid behind a thick stalagmite—narrowly avoiding another jet of black fire that hissed past her trailing frost.
Her breath came in ragged bursts. Pain throbbed through her shoulder where she'd hit the ground.
That last spell had drained her. She couldn't afford a drawn-out fight. Filvis had the edge—stronger, calmer, relentless.
"High Elvish tricks?" Filvis's voice echoed closer. She'd moved during the blast. "A shallow imitation of Riveria Ljos Alf. Did you think copying your mentor would save you?"
The words cut, but also cleared the fog. Riveria hadn't just taught spells—she taught discipline. Think. Adjust. Endure.
Filvis was dangerous, yes—but also precise. Predictable. She fought with control, with confidence. Too much of it. Lefiya had nothing but desperation, pain, and a chaotic pulse of instinct.
But maybe… that was enough.
Lefiya ducked back just as the swirl of shadow around Filvis's staff began to pulse.
Her heart pounded. She was buying time, not winning. But maybe, just maybe, time was all she needed.
"You think you erased everything we had!" Lefiya shouted, voice cracking under the weight of emotion. "But I remember it! You didn't just train me—you protected me! You laughed with me!"
Silence answered her—except for the rising hum of magic.
"That wasn't manipulation!" she pressed, refusing to give up. "That was real! Or are you going to say even your tears back then were just strategy?"
Filvis's voice rang out, cold and final.
"—Carve the flesh, silence the breath. Umbra Lacera!"
Black arcs like serrated blades tore through the air, slashing toward the stalagmite in a deadly fan.
Lefiya ran toward the next cover, a jagged ridge of stone. One arc grazed her thigh, the pain white-hot, but she didn't stop. Couldn't.
She dove behind the rock, biting back a scream. The wound burned, but she'd survived. Barely.
Filvis was done talking.
And so was she.
Filvis's eyes narrowed—she hadn't expected a charge. Not from Lefiya.
Not from the girl who always stood at the back, who always hesitated, who always clung to caution like armor.
The barrier shimmered, absorbing the last of the scattershot barrage. Filvis's staff pivoted slightly—too late.
Lefiya was within striking distance.
She didn't think. She acted.
With a shout that was part fear, part fury, she swung Forest Teardrop in an arc—not for a spell, but as a weapon.
The staff cracked against the side of Filvis's warded arm. The blow wasn't strong enough to hurt, but it broke her rhythm.
The shadows gathering at the tip of her staff sputtered.
Interrupt the chant.
Lefiya pivoted, planted her foot, and thrust the staff's crystal core directly at Filvis's chest.
The magic wasn't fully formed—her mana reserves were running dry—but she forced what little she had into a flash of blinding light.
"Lux!"
Point-blank, it didn't need power—only proximity.
The blast was a searing flare of brilliance.
Filvis staggered back with a hiss, her spell disrupted, eyes screwed shut from the sudden blaze. Her staff lashed out reflexively, carving a wild arc of shadow that barely missed Lefiya's head.
But the gap was open now.
Lefiya didn't try to press the attack. She dove to the side, rolling behind another outcropping, breathing hard, blood leaking from her leg.
The light was fading. So was her strength.
But for the first time, Filvis had flinched.
Yes—Lefiya saw it.
That tiny hitch. That pause.
Not doubt. Not regret. But a hairline fracture in Filvis's perfect mask. A moment where the question landed—not ignored, not deflected, but heard.
And that was enough.
Lefiya didn't stop moving.
Her boots skidded over loose gravel as she shifted direction again, not running away, but staying inside Filvis's casting range.
Too close for a full chant. Too erratic for clean targeting. Her chest burned, lungs scraping for air, but she kept talking—kept pressing.
"Or are you too far gone to care? Did you choose this, or did he just carve your grief into obedience?!" she shouted, circling faster, forcing Filvis to turn, to follow, to react instead of lead.
"Because the Filvis I trained with—the one who fought beside me—she would never have called saving people a waste of time!"
Filvis's jaw clenched. Her grip on the staff tightened.
The air around them warped again, black tendrils pulsing to life—but slower this time. Uneven.
Lefiya was in her head now.
And she wasn't letting go.
"You talk about choices like I ever had one," Filvis said, her voice flat as she stepped forward. "You think I wanted this? That I picked this?"
Her staff still crackled with leftover magic. "I didn't jump—I got shoved. By the gods. By everything. And people like you, pretending to understand."
Lefiya clenched her staff, forcing herself to stay upright. Her leg burned. Her hands were shaking. But she kept her eyes on Filvis.
"I'm not pretending," she said, panting. "I fought for everything. I fought with you."
Filvis's face twitched—barely—but the moment passed.
She raised her staff.
So did Lefiya.
"You're getting on my nerves, Lefiya," Filvis said, raising her staff again.
The energy forming at the tip looked worse than anything she'd used before—unstable, pulsing, and sharp like it cut the air itself.
"Let's finish this. Nox Aeterna—"
Lefiya didn't need to guess what that spell would do. She felt it—cold, final, like staring into a hole that led nowhere.
There was no point begging. No time to run. Only one option left: the spell Riveria had warned her about.
Real High Elvish magic. Not the version she was used to. Not a trick. The real thing.
It needed everything she didn't have right now—calm, control, perfect timing.
But she didn't have a choice.
She pushed herself up onto her knees, biting back the pain in her leg and shoulder, tasting blood but ignoring it.
Her fingers wrapped around Forest Teardrop, planting it in front of her like a lifeline. She shut her eyes—not to escape, but to shut everything out.
Just for a second. Just long enough to remember what really mattered.
Riveria's voice. Her lessons. The countless times she'd drilled the same lines into her. Not just words. Feeling the magic move through her, not just out of her. She reached for that.
When she opened her eyes again, she locked onto Filvis's. There was no fear left—just a raw kind of focus that hurt to hold onto.
Then she spoke.
Not loud. Not dramatic. Just right.
"Hear me, spirits of light—old and clear,
Push back the dark, make its path disappear.
Bring the threads of morning to this place of gloom,
Break the veil—let the light cut through.
Ljos Alf Heimdallr."
As Lefiya spoke, something shifted.
The constant low hum from the corrupted crystals faltered, like a breath caught in the throat.
The air shimmered—not with Filvis's creeping shadow, but with a light that felt clean.
White-gold, clear and steady, it gathered around Forest Teardrop and pushed back the sickly green glow. It wasn't loud or showy. It just was—calm, certain, real.
Soft silver runes began to rise from the staff, spiraling upward in slow arcs, quiet and old.
Across from her, Filvis's expression cracked. Just a little. Her eyes widened, and the churning black energy at her staff's tip pulled back like it had met something stronger.
Her voice, mid-incantation—"Nox Aeterna—"—caught in her throat, stalled by the sudden shift in power.
Lefiya didn't hesitate. She pushed everything she had into the final word. Her anger. Her grief. Her belief that this had to matter.
"Ljos Alf Heimdallr."
A thick beam of white light shot from Forest Teardrop, straight and fast. It didn't explode—it drove forward like a solid spear, aimed straight at the dark energy Filvis was forming.
The two spells met in the air with no sound, just a dead silence that somehow felt louder than any explosion.
The light and dark crashed against each other and held, locked in place. The beam pushed forward; the vortex pushed back. Neither gave ground.
Then the cavern buckled.
Not from fire or impact—but from raw force. A wave of pressure burst out from the clash, shaking the floor.
The stone warped and rippled. Stalactites broke loose from the ceiling and crashed down into the depths.
The green crystals in the walls flared and cracked—some split open, others went dark as the energy around them turned chaotic.
The blast threw Lefiya backward.
Her grip on Forest Teardrop nearly slipped. She slammed into a sharp edge of crystal, the blow knocking the air out of her lungs and sending pain lancing through her already injured side.
Her vision blurred, black creeping in at the corners. She could taste blood again, sharp and bitter.
Across the chaotic space, Filvis wasn't much better off.
The shock from their spells forced her back, her boots slipping on the rough stone. She threw up a barrier in time, but it flickered under the pressure. The magic held—for now—but it was clear she was struggling to keep control.
For the first time, she didn't look untouchable.
Her eyes narrowed. Her hand trembled slightly around her staff. She hadn't expected this from Lefiya. Not this much power.
The silence that followed hit harder than the explosion.
Dust hung in the air. Crystal shards clinked to the ground. The only sound was Lefiya's heavy breathing as she tried to stay conscious.
A haze of broken stone and raw magic filled the space. Where the spells met, the floor was scorched—still radiating heat and crackling with faint energy.
Lefiya pushed herself up on shaking arms.
Every part of her body hurt. Her head was spinning. The spell had drained her almost completely.
But under all of that—under the pain and exhaustion—there was a flicker of something else.
Relief. And pride.
She'd faced Filvis. She was still standing.
Barely—but standing.
"Filvis..." she croaked, her voice raw and weak. She strained to see through the settling dust.
"See... see what your path costs? See the power... born from bonds you deny?" She coughed, a wet, painful sound. "It doesn't have to... be like this. Please..."
Silence answered her. Dust swirled slowly down to the ground. Lefiya's heart pounded in her chest, loud against the quiet.
Where was Filvis? Was she hurt? Stunned? Or just waiting, gathering strength for the next attack?
Then a shape moved in the haze. Filvis stepped forward, robes dust-covered, a thin line of blood trickling from a cut on her cheek—the first wound Lefiya had ever seen on her.
But it was Filvis's eyes that held Lefiya still. The cold detachment remained, the loyalty was there, but beneath it something sharper: a calculating fury.
Maybe even a flicker of doubt. Lefiya's power—the light she'd summoned from bonds Filvis dismissed—had shaken her.
"You…" Filvis said, voice low and tighter than before. The calm certainty was gone, replaced with cold anger.
She raised her staff, but this time the dark energy crackled wildly—less controlled, more aggressive. "Your sentimentality… is a disease. It weakens and blinds. I will purge it from here. I will—"
Her furious declaration was cut short—not by Lefiya, but by a sudden shift in the cavern's atmosphere.
A deep wrongness filled the space, like a weight pressing down from nowhere and everywhere at once. The haze thickened unnaturally.
The faint glow of the crystals dimmed, not fading out but forced down, as if something crushed their light.
The air grew heavy and cold, charged with a quiet arrogance that made breathing harder.
Both Lefiya and Filvis froze. Lefiya's heart hammered in terror; Filvis snapped her head around, eyes sharp but wary, searching the shadows.
Suddenly, above them, the air twisted violently—a vortex of swirling smoke and shadow spiraled into existence. From its center, a figure dropped with a cough, choking on the dense smoke
The figure blinked, steadying himself as he looked around the cavern. The sharp edges of the broken stone, the faint green glow of crystals, the tension thick in the air.
"Where… am I?" he muttered, voice calm but wary.
Filvis's eyes snapped to him. Her staff shifted, now pointed cautiously at this unexpected newcomer. "Who are you?" she demanded, her voice sharp but controlled.
Zamasu met her gaze steadily, hands relaxed but ready. "Me? I go by Zamasu."
Chapter 41 end