One day earlier.
At the moment of the fall.
Allen and Sylphy were plummeting rapidly through the air—without Rudeus's wind magic to support them.
They were close. So close, in fact, that—
The wind raging through the valley had already torn Allen's hair loose, and his glasses had shattered during the first charge through the monster horde. The tie holding back his hair had long since been snatched away by the mountain winds.
The wind howled like a screeching symphony. Coarse brown strands of hair and soft green ones intertwined, dancing a tangled tango in the sky.
Twisting together in the air.
In that moment of free fall, the two of them locked eyes in the dark. Their breaths brushed against each other's faces.
Allen's brow was furrowed sharply in disbelief. He couldn't comprehend—why had Sylphy done this? How had she reacted so fast and grabbed his hand without hesitation?
And yet, Sylphy squinted into the wind, her expression fraught with panic, but still tinged with stubborn resolve. Her reddish-brown eyes stared straight into Allen's face with the same focused intensity he always wore when he was serious.
There was no bridge here.
And yet, they were falling—as if off one.
The wind screamed past their ears.
Shadows and flashes of light streaked through their vision.
Hearts pounded wildly in their chests.
Allen only froze for a split second before reacting. His eyes flew wide open as he gritted his teeth and pulled Sylphy tightly into his arms, shouting instinctively:
"Are you out of your mind?!"
There was no time to hear her answer. At the same time, [Perception Flow] activated—burning through his mind at full capacity.
Sylphy clung desperately to his shredded back, her hands glowing faintly with green healing light—but the magic flickered out. She couldn't concentrate.
Tears welled at the corners of her eyes. She gritted her teeth, abandoning the healing spell. Even in fear, she shouted something at him with all her might.
The wind ripped her voice into pieces.
Each syllable fell like a stone:
"Do!"
"Not!"
"Let go!"
Allen couldn't hear what she said. In the darkness, his pupils shrank to pinpoints, flicking about rapidly. Years of Water God–style training flooded his mind with rapid environmental data:
Right side: wide open gorge—darkness too deep to gauge, wind echoing freely with no return. Front and rear, same conditions. Backward wind is smooth—no interference. But to the left—
Chaotic turbulence!
That's the wind scraping along a cliff wall—its texture is "stickier" than the rest of the darkness.
A cliff face!
The realization struck like lightning. Allen, still clutching Sylphy, swept one hand from overhead to his left. His fingers released a focused burst of battle aura—crushing the scattered debris above their heads into powder. Then, with delicate precision, he deflected the airflow to the side.
Sure enough, the wind returned with chaotic resistance.
About two meters!
In under a second, with [Perception Flow] running at full tilt, Allen calculated everything. He threw a [AvalancheDrop] in the opposite direction to propel himself.
Then, using the momentum, he slashed sideways—embedding his blade into the cliff.
The violent counter-force sent sparks flying along the stone as his aura-laced blade carved a searing trail.
The sword caught—and they came to a sudden stop midair, the massive recoil jarring both of them.
The blade bent under the force, almost ninety degrees, glowing red-hot in the strain. Sparks flashed in Allen's wide eyes.
His expression turned grim.
The blade—thin and long, Allen's preferred style—was buckling. Aura reinforced the edge, but that very reinforcement made it more brittle.
And then—
Snap.
The blade shattered.
Allen had known this was likely. Without aura, the sword couldn't pierce the cliff. But with aura, the blade's flexibility was lost.
He couldn't afford to wait for a "safe" distance. What if the cliff wall was softer from underground moisture? What if it didn't hold?
So he struck early.
Thankfully, it worked.
Their fall paused for just an instant. Allen stared at the broken sword in his hand. His body had begun to dip again. A cold glint flashed in his eye.
Based on the time we've fallen, the valley floor is still at least a few dozen meters away. If we drop now—we'll die.
I'll need to use [Four-Legged Form] with aura adhesion to brace myself. It'll probably break my arms and legs… but we're out of options. Intermediate Healing should handle it later.
As long as Sylphy is safe!
His thoughts snapped into motion. He shouted:
"Hold on tight! Don't let go, got it?!"
"NO!!"
"If you understand, then—huh??"
Allen had just braced to launch his limbs toward the cliff when—
The shout caught him off guard.
Sylphy had never said no to him before.
He blinked down, stunned.
And in that instant—
A gust of wind erupted.
Not the wind of their descent.
It was coming from her.
Sylphy had wrapped her legs tightly around Allen's waist like an octopus. Her eyes were shut tight in concentration. And then—
She released her wind spell.
Magic surged from her palms with reckless abandon. Howling wind slammed into the air beneath them, desperately trying to halt their fall.
Allen could feel her soft limbs locked painfully against his waist—her skin scorching against his own.
But she couldn't hold him for long.
Sylphy's strength was failing.
Allen's mind raced—this wasn't what he'd planned. There was no time to argue. If their speed picked up again, it would be too late.
He reached for her waist, using [Flow Technique] to link their bodies into a single load-bearing unit.
They stabilized.
But they were still falling.
Allen's earlier calculations weren't wrong—the drop from where they had briefly stalled to the ground was 74 meters. Without magic, that would have taken 3.89 seconds.
But with Sylphy's wind spell?
They had seven seconds.
That was all the time Allen needed.
The sound of monsters slamming into the ground nearby echoed like water balloons bursting on stone.
Their bodies shattered like sacks of meat.
Seven seconds.
Boom.
A shockwave spread beneath Allen's feet.
He landed on bent knees—his joints shrieked in protest.
A faint green glow brushed over his back and legs.
The damage instantly healed.
He stood up straight. Sylphy's hair tickled his face as she clung to him, both their hearts pounding wildly in sync.
That wind spell… Sylphy, you really pulled it off. Felt like falling from just ten meters. Dampened all the force. This is the best outcome we could've asked for.
Allen ruffled her hair, took a step back, and looked down at her.
But instead of the relieved expression he expected—Sylphy was trembling, eyes brimming with tears. She looked up at him, lip quivering. For a moment she couldn't speak—her mouth opened and closed a few times.
Then, once she confirmed he was really okay—
She smiled, crying all the while.
She'd spent the past year imitating Allen's calm expressions. But now, finally, she couldn't hold it in anymore.
Her face bloomed with a young girl's unfiltered emotion—unapologetically open.
Allen's expression froze.
His joy turned to disbelief.
Then to awe.
The sun had fallen.
The moon now hung high in the sky.
Clouds parted.
And moonlight spilled through the rift in the clouds like a silver ribbon—descending softly between them.
At that moment—
In Allen's dilated pupils—
Sylphy's hair, caught in the moonlight, floated around her like a halo. Snowflakes drifted through the air, like stardust falling.
The moon's glow rimmed each strand of her hair.
It shimmered softly.
Like moonlight itself.
Pure.
And perfect.