Finally, Mr. Alaric managed to catch the berserk devil off guard.
The creature's flesh began to flake away, thin layers peeling like potato skin scraped by a blade. The air thickened with the stench of molten heat as its body softened, thinning into a glowing mass that hissed and bubbled. Veins of red light shimmered beneath its skin before bursting into steam. Then, through the haze of rising vapor, Sein's real form emerged—fragile, trembling, and naked as when he first came into the world. His breathing was shallow, his body marked by strange, blade-like patterns engraved on his both forearms, glowing faintly as if branded by light itself.
Mr. Alaric approached him without fear, his steps slow but certain, each one echoing with authority. He extended a hand over Sein's body, whispering something under his breath—words too ancient for Dash to catch. Runes flared briefly and vanished. Dash could only stare, unable to comprehend what he was witnessing after all that had happened since meeting Sein.
"Old Uncle," Dash stammered, voice hoarse, "what… what are you doing? Is he really Sein?"
"I have but restrained his power for a while," replied Alaric, his tone calm, almost solemn. "Till another comes who can seal the devil anew."
Just as he finished, a sharp voice cut through the smoke. "I told you. All of you!"
"Oh, here she comes!" Mr. Alaric announces.
A woman descended the slope with determined strides, her cloak fluttering behind her like a storm's banner. It was Aunt Mathilde. Her eyes blazed with controlled fury, but behind that fire was unmistakable worry.
"I warned you, Alaric! He should never have been allowed to leave this island until he learned to master his powers. And now look at him—" she gestured toward Sein's trembling body, "—look at what has happened to him!"
Alaric did not flinch beneath her words. His gaze remained firm, calm as still water. "The wheel of fate has begun its turning, Mathilde. Neither you, nor I, nor anyone can halt it now. All we should is praying to the God of Light to illuminate his path—and believe in him."
Mathilde stopped in front of him, her chest rising with angered breaths. "Faith?" she echoed bitterly. "Faith does not work with devils, Jacob!" Still, the edge in her voice softened when she looked down at Sein's face. "Oh, foolish child," she murmured, kneeling beside him.
She placed her palm upon his bare chest. Runes bloomed from her fingers, forming an intricate symbol like a lock of light. "I knew it," she whispered. "It's too late. The first chain has already shattered. It's already too late. We will expect the advent of the devil sooner than we expect! It's just a few years… No…. months… No, maybe less…"
Her voice grew heavier, the air thick with sorrow. "The devil will now intrude on his channel again and again. Every interference will weaken the seal until it collapses entirely. Judging by his current state… the remaining bindings won't last long. He cannot control his anger—it feeds the devil and drains him. That burning he feels within his body? It's his fury consuming him."
She sighed and turned her eyes away. "Good grief. If it were left to me, I would never let him go. But that was never up to me! I have reinforced the two left chains—barely. The rest unfortunately is his burden to bear."
She stood and brushed the dust from her knees before walking toward Dash. Her expression softened, maternal but firm, the look of someone who had long since accepted responsibility for things beyond her control.
Dash, meanwhile, was frozen in disbelief. The battlefield had gone eerily quiet; even the wind seemed to hold its breath. Then his confusion erupted in a desperate laugh.
"Wait—wait, what the hell is this?!" he cried, clutching his head. "How can Sein turn into a demon? What did you do to his body? Who even are you people? Don't tell me you—Old Aunt—have some crazy fuckin' supernatural power that makes you, what, the fourth strongest in the world or something?! Hah! Pazzo!"
Alaric's deep voice rumbled in reply, steady as thunder beneath calm skies. "Be calm, boy. The tides have shifted far beyond your understanding." His gaze sharpened, ancient and commanding. "I told you! Lady Fortuna herself seems to have taken a liking to you. So be it. I shall spare your life—on one condition."
Dash blinked, startled by the weight of that voice. "A… condition?"
"Indeed." Alaric's eyes gleamed faintly, reflecting the fading flames. "Both of you shall be exiled from these isles, never to return under any circumstance. Moreover, you are condemned hereby to be his balance. You shall ensure his mind remains unshaken. You shall be his right hand—his shield—and his left hand—the limiter that restricts him from the use of the devil's might again. Do you understand that? If you accept this, I shall see that both of you be sent to the Capital City. Is it not true you wish to partake in the SBBAT? Then this shall be inevitable your path."
His words hung heavy in the air. Dash could barely breathe. The idea of exile, of binding himself to the same person who had nearly killed him, felt absurd—yet strangely inevitable. Mr. Alaric waited, his expression stern but not cruel.
Finally, Dash exhaled shakily. He drew his sword, stared at its dull reflection, then slowly sheathed it. His stance shifted—less confused now, more deliberate, as if something within him had finally settled.
"Old man," he began quietly, "I don't know who you are. I don't even know what any of this means anymore. You people—you're suddenly strong beyond reason. But… I don't care what happened. I'm not even interested in knowing." He paused, lowering his eyes. "If there's something I want right now—it's to grow stronger. Stronger than anyone else."
His voice cracked; tears slipped from his eyes though he tried to stifle them. "Damnit… I promise, I'll do whatever it takes to become strong. Even if it means travelling with the devil himself." His lips trembled; pride battled grief. "I will… I will do it!"
He wiped his face with his sleeve, then met Mr. Alaric's gaze with fire burning behind his eyes—raw, unrefined, but real.
"That's the spirit, boy!" Mr. Alaric's grin returned, proud and fierce. "I see much of my younger self in you. So—do you accept? No turning back, no retreat, whatever may come?"
"I SAID I will do it!" Dash shouted, slamming his hand to his chest. "For my cause! For my selfish objective! For my own sake! Even if it means walking beside a devil—I'll travel, I'll fight, I'll smile until I reach my goal!"
He unsheathed his sword again, lifted it toward the sky, and declared in a voice that trembled yet thundered, "Everything… for power!"
The wind howled in response, scattering embers through the clearing like crimson petals.
Mr. Alaric stood still, watching him with quiet satisfaction. In that moment, the boy's spirit reminded him of his own youth—a time when he too refused to bow to fate. The Will of the Warrior, he thought. The power that bends storms and shatters mountains. When will does not waver, it outpaces even light—it pierces the hearts of the unyielding.
"Very well," Mr. Alaric said at last, his tone returning to command. "Go now. The preliminaries begin morrow. It shall take the whole night to reach the Capital City."
He turned away, then looked back once more. "Ah, I nearly forgot. Someone shall be awaiting you there—she goes by the codename Amy. She will accompany you both, in all places. She is a shadow in midday and light in the darkest night. Skilled in sealing and medicine both."
He waved his hand dismissively, yet a faint smile ghosted his lips. "Now off with you. And should he ever ask about what had happened…" He paused, then shook his head. "Nay. I trust you to do the right thing."
He raised his voice, booming now. "Go—before I change my mind!"
Dash flinched, half-smiling through the tears that still burned his cheeks. He turned to where Sein lay unconscious, his breathing steady now. "Guess it's you and me, huh?" he muttered. Then, with one last glance toward the two elders, he hoisted Sein onto his shoulder and began to walk into the fading light.
Behind them, Mr. Alaric and Aunt Mathilde stood in silence as the wind carried away the last traces of battle.
In no time, Dash and Sein had vanished from sight.
Mr. Alaric gazed at Aunt Mathilde, his voice low and heavy with fatigue. "…Pray, tell me… is it… verily… alright… to retire… to… a long… slumber?"
His knees buckled, the ground trembling with the force, and his eyes drifted closed, falling slowly like curtains drawn at the end of a long day. "The young… so strong… Blimey!" he muttered and then retired.
Aunt Mathilde's eyes softened with pity. She had known him since they were but pupils, and had tended to his every need, for beneath that mask of strength had always lived a child. "Ruhe in Frieden, old friend," she whispered, voice heavy with sorrow.
Next time on Soul Blade Brawl Z: The Crash of Legends— "The one direction."