Aelfric met Fior’s assault head-on. The young Dark Elf’s movements were fast, almost reckless, the dagger in his hand shrouded in thick black miasma that left dark trails with every swing.

Aelfric refused to let the blade come anywhere near him. The last time dead mana had entered his body, he had spent days bedridden, enduring agony that even the healers had struggled to ease. This time, with the amount of corruption coating Fior’s weapon, a single clean strike would likely be enough to claim his life before the night was over.

Steel clashed repeatedly beneath the sprawling roots of Yggdrasil as Aelfric gave ground, deflecting one strike after another. Fior’s attacks lacked the discipline they had possessed before. There was no restraint or strategy behind them now, only relentless aggression that pushed his body far beyond its natural limits.

His muscles strained with every swing, his breathing had become ragged, yet he showed no sign of slowing down. His empty silver eyes never once wavered from Aelfric, devoid of thought or hesitation, making it painfully clear that the young Dark Elf was no longer the one controlling his own body.

Aelfric’s heart grew heavier with each passing exchange. He could not bring himself to strike Fior down, yet allowing the battle to continue only played into the Dominus’s hands. Every moment they spent fighting brought the enemy closer to Yggdrasil, while the thick miasma continued spreading through its ancient roots.

Their blades collided once more before Fior abruptly lowered his stance. Twisting his body, he slipped beneath Aelfric’s guard and drove the dagger upward in a swift arc aimed directly at his throat.

Aelfric reacted on instinct, springing backward to evade the attack. The hurried retreat bought him just enough distance, but his footing landed awkwardly against one of Yggdrasil’s sprawling roots. His balance faltered for the briefest instant.

It was all the opening Fior needed.

The young Dark Elf launched forward without the slightest hesitation, closing the distance in a single bound. Aelfric immediately reached out, intending to seize Fior’s wrist before the dagger could reach him.

Then a flash of silver swept across his vision.

A powerful shockwave burst between them, forcing Fior’s blade away before it could touch its target. Aelfric instinctively shielded his eyes as dust and black motes scattered through the air. When the wind settled, two figures were already standing before him, their weapons raised toward the advancing Dark Elf.

One was broad-shouldered and clad in heavy armor, his saber resting firmly in his grasp despite the exhaustion lining his face.

The other stood with effortless composure, Serathil coiling around his arm like a living silver serpent, its segmented blade shimmering beneath the moonlight.

The Dwarf King Erisgrirlum, and beside him, the Merfolk King Zale.

"King Erisgrirlum... King Zale," Aelfric breathed in relief.

Without wasting another moment, Erisgrirlum stepped forward and swung his saber in a powerful arc. Fior barely had time to react before the blow struck the flat of his blade, sending the young Dark Elf hurtling across the roots of Yggdrasil. Beside him, Zale caught Aelfric by the arm, steadying him before he could lose his footing completely.

"I apologise for being late," Erisgrirlum said, his eyes never leaving Fior.

"I was delayed as well," Zale admitted with an apologetic smile. "Sorry."

Erisgrirlum watched Fior rise to his feet almost immediately, his empty eyes fixed solely upon Aelfric. "He’s under the Dominus’s control."

Aelfric nodded grimly before another fit of coughing escaped him. "The dead mana is far too dense around here."

"My army couldn’t advance through it," Erisgrirlum replied. "I had no choice but to come alone." His gaze shifted briefly toward Zale. "What about your army, King Zale?"

"Hm?" Zale blinked before smiling lightly. "Master told me to come alone."

Erisgrirlum’s brows twitched at the answer, but before he could respond, Fior charged once more. Serathil shot forward in a streak of silver, intercepting the young Dark Elf before he could close the distance and forcing him back with a sharp metallic clang.

"The dead mana doesn’t affect you?" Erisgrirlum asked as he adjusted his stance.

"I’m an Aura user," Zale answered calmly. "It isn’t nearly as lethal for me."

Before either King could say another word, thick black mist surged toward them. Zevran emerged from the darkness only long enough to flood the battlefield with another wave of illusion magic before disappearing once again.

"Talk about a nuisance," Zale muttered.

Serathil uncoiled instantly, its silver body slicing through the mist in broad sweeping arcs. Wherever the sacred weapon passed, the darkness scattered, restoring just enough visibility for the three Kings to react.

Aelfric caught movement behind him and spun around just in time to block Fior’s descending dagger. The impact jarred his already-weakened arms, and before Fior could follow with another strike, Erisgrirlum stepped in from the side. His saber intercepted the second dagger with enough force to knock the young Dark Elf off balance.

Watching the Dwarf King continue fighting within the thick dead mana, Aelfric couldn’t suppress his concern.

"King Erisgrirlum, the dead mana will affect you as well. Please fall back."

"It’s fine," Erisgrirlum replied without looking at him. "I have the Dragon’s mana stone. It’s keeping the corruption at bay."

Aelfric’s eyes widened. "Y-You have one too?"

"Master gave one to each of us," Zale answered as Serathil swept across the battlefield again, forcing Zevran to abandon another ambush.

For the first time since arriving, Erisgrirlum glanced toward Aelfric.

"Did either of you manage to speak with the Dragon?"

Before Aelfric could answer, Fior lunged from the dispersing mist while Zevran attacked from the opposite side. The three Kings reacted almost simultaneously. Aelfric’s spell intercepted Zevran’s blade as Serathil coiled between them, while Erisgrirlum drove Fior back with another heavy swing.

"I did," Aelfric answered between exchanges. "He said he’d be here in fifteen minutes."

"When did you contact him?" Zale asked.

"I... don’t know. Some time ago."

Erisgrirlum frowned as he parried another of Fior’s attacks. "Shouldn’t those fifteen minutes be over by now?"

He shifted his grip and brought his saber down in a decisive strike aimed at Fior’s neck.

"Wait! Don’t kill him!" Aelfric shouted.

Erisgrirlum reacted immediately, twisting the blade at the last instant. Instead of taking Fior’s head, the saber sliced cleanly through his wrist.

The severed hand struck the roots of Yggdrasil with a dull thud, the dagger still clutched tightly within its fingers.

Fior staggered back several steps. Blood poured freely from the stump, yet he neither cried out nor hesitated. His body twitched once before he bent down, picked up the fallen dagger with his remaining hand and slowly lifted his head again.

Tears streamed silently down his ashy gray face and his silver eyes, however, remained utterly hollow.

"How repulsive," Erisgrirlum muttered.

Aelfric said nothing.

A moment later, Zevran emerged from the mist once more, drawing Zale’s attention away as Serathil shot after the Dark Mage. Left with only a single hand, Fior still hurled himself toward Aelfric without the slightest regard for his own injuries.

Below, the Dark Elves found it nearly impossible to approach the Dominus any longer. The barrage of attacks had forced the Domina to the ground, where she lay bleeding from the arrows embedded in her body, yet the Dominus himself remained untouched behind his barrier of dead mana.

Not far away, Yttriva was in no better condition. Blood soaked her clothes as she struggled to stay conscious, her fading eyes fixed on the lone figure of her grandson, who continued fighting as though his own life meant nothing.

"Yttriva, stay with me!" Xeveris shouted, supporting her trembling body against his own.

"W-What the hell happened?" Ermid gasped as he stumbled toward them.

Xeveris’s eyes instinctively fell upon Ermid’s missing arm, his expression tightening in shock. At the same time, Ermid dropped to one knee beside Yttriva, his brows knitting together as he examined the deep wound in her side. The blade remained lodged where it had struck, keeping the bleeding from worsening, but it also meant the injury was far too severe to treat on the battlefield.

His gaze slowly lifted to Xeveris.

"Who did this?"

Xeveris remained silent.

Following his line of sight, Ermid turned toward the battle beneath Yggdrasil. His eyes widened as they fell upon Fior, who was relentlessly attacking not only King Aelfric but also the Dwarf King and the Merfolk King.

"H-Has that brat completely lost his mind?" Ermid exclaimed, already pushing himself back to his feet. "What is he-"

Before he could take a step, Xeveris caught him by the wrist.

"It’s not Fior, Ermid."

Ermid frowned. "What do you mean? He’s still fighting! We have to stop him, Xeveris."

Xeveris lowered his eyes for a brief moment before tightening his grip.

"We can’t. The Dominus is controlling him."

For a moment, Ermid simply stared at him in disbelief. His eyes drifted back toward Fior before settling on the familiar black-clad figure weaving through the battlefield.

"So this bastard came here as well," he muttered, glaring at Zevran.

A weak cough drew his attention back. Yttriva spat out another mouthful of blood, and Ermid quickly wiped it away before supporting her shoulders.

"King Aelfric said..." Xeveris spoke quietly, "...the Dragon would be here in fifteen minutes."

Ermid looked at him in surprise.

"What? When?"

Xeveris could only shake his head uncertainly.

Ermid clicked his tongue in frustration. "Then shouldn’t those fifteen minutes be over by now?"

No one answered.

Xeveris slowly lifted his gaze toward the towering branches of Yggdrasil. The ancient tree continued to wither before his eyes while the black miasma spread farther across its roots. Around them, warriors from every race had thrown themselves into the battle, yet nothing had managed to halt the Dominus’s advance. For the first time in many years, Xeveris found himself with nothing left to rely upon except hope.

Yttriva’s vision had begun to fade when a faint blue glimmer appeared high above the island.

At first, she mistook it for a lone star breaking through the clouds.

Then the temperature plummeted.

A biting chill swept across Edrisyl with astonishing speed, freezing the air itself. Frost raced over the blackened earth, climbing across the withered trees and swallowing the sea of dead miasma beneath an ever-thickening layer of crystal-blue ice. In the blink of an eye, everything it touched was sealed within it. Fallen warriors, shattered roots, ruined forests and even the thick dead miasma itself disappeared beneath the ice, while the corruption that had spread across the island seemed to halt for the first time that night.

"Wha-"

Before Ermid could finish speaking, the ice surged around him as well, encasing his body where he stood. Xeveris stumbled backward in shock, only to watch Yttriva become sealed within the same translucent ice moments later.

Across the battlefield, Aelfric, the Dominus and everyone who had remained free looked on in stunned silence.

Unlike the dead mana, however, this overwhelming presence carried no emptiness.

It washed over the people of Edrisyl like a bitter winter wind, and with it came a feeling none of them had expected to experience again that night.

Relief.

Almost instinctively, every eye turned toward the sky, where two figures slowly descended through the clouds.