With his staff clenched tightly in his hand, Haku prepared to use magic—Enchantment.
Enchantment was an art used by combat mages to push their bodies beyond their natural limits. It was extremely dangerous; if enchantments were placed incorrectly, it could lead to death—and once placed, they were permanent.
Haku had avoided using it for one reason: it would cost him the ability to wield magic ever again. Enchantments consumed all the mana in the body, transforming it into raw physical strength.
He hesitated. Magic was his safeguard, a lesson drilled into him by a former companion. But... if he let Ryusei die because of fear, he would never forgive himself. He would rather lose everything than watch someone he cared for fall again.
And so, clenching his teeth, Haku raised his staff. Without a second thought, he began engraving enchantments onto his body. He lifted the staff high and declared,
"Last Chant, Enchant."
From the staff, ancient words writhed like black serpents, wrapping around Haku in a frenzy of lightless energy. Then—with a sharp crack—the staff shattered.
Vazrothvra simply watched, silent and still. This was the moment he had waited for. From the very beginning, he had known: magic was holding Haku back. Why Haku hadn't used Enchantment earlier puzzled him, but one thing was certain—Haku was born to be a combat mage.
Seconds passed. The enchantment was complete.
Haku didn't feel stronger—only empty. His mana was gone. He could feel that clearly.
Still lost in thought, he barely caught the downward swing coming at him. Instinct moved his body—he shifted his foot slightly, the blade missing him as it cleaved the air, awakening the wind.
Haku's eyes widened. Earlier, he couldn't even see Vazrothvra's movements. Now he could dodge them.
So this is... a combat mage, he thought, leaping back.
Vazrothvra chuckled.
"How does it feel to become stronger than your old self?" he asked.
Haku replied calmly.
"Not much different."
Summoning a spear from his ring, Haku narrowed his eyes and sank into an attacking stance.
Vazrothvra mirrored him, and in the blink of an eye, the two clashed. The shockwave of their collision split the ground beneath them.
Then Vazrothvra spoke.
"Form: Speed."
In an instant, he appeared behind Haku, greatsword swinging. Yet just as quickly, Haku slipped behind Vazrothvra, thrusting his spear toward his back.
But—
"Form: Defense."
The spear shattered on impact.
Haku's eyes widened, his calm shattering along with his weapon. How...!? A direct hit, and yet it had done nothing? His mind reeled. How did Ryusei even beat this wall known as Vazrothvra?
Before he could react, Vazrothvra twisted, a vicious swing grazing Haku's chest and carving a thin line of blood. Haku barely dodged the full force in time.
"I see," Vazrothvra muttered, eyes narrowing. "You're a speed type."
There were four types of combat mages:
Attack
Speed
Defense
Sensory
Haku was a speed type. It was also these classes that had inspired Vazrothvra's own creation: Form Change. A technique that used mana to forcibly alter one's physical properties—later evolving into a Skill when Vazrothvra became a Floor Boss. Ryusei, too, had copied and refined it with his Adaptation ability.
Vazrothvra raised his sword high.
"But that alone won't be enough to defeat me."
He began to speak.
"The En—"
Crack.
Vazrothvra's head snapped toward the queen.
A bead of sweat rolled down her face.
She was struggling. Of course she was. Maintaining five powerful shadows drained her mana rapidly—and she didn't possess infinite reserves.
Lowering his sword, Vazrothvra called out to Haku.
"Haku. Remember this. A shield doesn't just protect. When necessary, it can also be used as a weapon."
Vazrothvra's body began to crack, black glass fracturing and falling away like brittle ash.
Frustration welled up in Haku at being lectured by an enemy—but stronger than that was gratitude. If not for Vazrothvra, he would still be nothing but a weak shield.
A faint smile tugged at his lips.
"I can see why you became Ryusei's friend," he said quietly.
Vazrothvra chuckled.
"Farewell, 'Protector.' Tell Ryusei... I said thank you."
And with those final words, Vazrothvra's shadow scattered, vanishing like a candle snuffed out by the wind.
Haku collapsed to the ground as all the tension drained from his body. Fighting Vazrothvra felt like trying to breathe underwater.
I'm still so weak.
But now, he understood what he needed to do.
Drawing in a sharp breath, Haku forced himself to his feet, his gaze turning toward Ryusei, sweat dripping from his face.
***
Meanwhile, Ryusei was locked in battle, desperately parrying and dodging the barrage of attacks from the four shadows. His mana was dwindling fast. The constant healing from his immortal body, combined with repeated skill usage, was draining him dry.
His last resort was the special technique he had learned from Vazrothvra. Just as he shifted into stance—
Cracks appeared in the shadows.
Ryusei blinked, confused.
What's happening?
Had he miscalculated Lithaer's endurance?
Before he could answer his own question, the shadows faded away, leaving a battlefield carved with deep scars.
Haku stumbled to his side, battered but standing.
Together, they turned to face the queen.
She clicked her tongue in irritation.
"This body... it's far too weak," she said, almost in disdain—as if it wasn't truly hers.
But then her gaze softened.
Gracefully, she rose from her throne, her steps slow and deliberate, almost as if she were gliding on air. When she reached the floor where Haku and Ryusei stood, she spoke:
"I am Lithaer the Pentagon. Do you know why I bear that title? Because I brought darkness to five kingdoms. Because I stood against the armies of five nations and because I died five times before becoming what I am now."
She clapped her hands once.
"Five I am. Five, my name. Oh shadows, bring forth five hundred years of history—[Shadow World]."
The room plunged into darkness.
Unbeknownst to them, Lithaer held a third Mythical Skill—one Vazrothvra had never known, one she had never used in her lifetime.