The sound of hurried, chaotic footsteps echoed from the distance.
Akira's brows furrowed slightly. The tremors from earlier must have drawn in other adventurers. His sharp gaze swept across the ruined battlefield.
With the walls cracked and the chamber devastated, it was clear that staying any longer would be unwise.
"It's time to leave." He glanced one last time at the cratered battlefield, snapped his fingers, and activated the teleportation circle.
With a low hum, a pale light surged beneath their feet. The spell circle pulsed with intricate runes as it rose around the two figures.
In the blink of an eye, they vanished, swallowed by a column of white light.
…
Moments later, a group of adventurers arrived at the scene.
At the front stood a burly man with an eyepatch over his left eye. His breath caught as he took in the apocalyptic wreckage.
"…What the hell happened here?" He muttered, his voice trembling with disbelief.
Cracks like monstrous claw marks lined the walls. Piles of rubble lay in mountains across the floor. The air was thick with dust and scorched magic residue.
"Quick, report back to Rivira. Something massive just went down."
The one-eyed man barked the order. His companions immediately scattered, sprinting in different directions.
…
Elsewhere—
A brilliant white light burst through the ceiling of a ruined church.
The spell formation wove itself through the air like a blooming flower, runes dancing as if whispering secrets from another world.
Two figures emerged midair.
Akira was gripping the back of Zald's armor with one hand, the other clawed into the ceiling to stabilize their descent. His arm muscles tightened, veins bulging faintly. He grunted as he held their weight in place, and quickly scanned the ground.
No presence sensed. No one had arrived yet.
"Good."
Akira released the ceiling and dropped. The two landed silently. A faint puff of dust rose as their boots hit the ground.
Akira exhaled and immediately began dragging the unconscious Zald toward the center of the room—the scarred zone where their earlier battle had warped the stone itself.
Zald's limp body slid along the floor, leaving behind faint streaks of blood. His pale face was gaunt, his lips tinged blue, and the corners of his lips were stained crimson.
Akira knelt beside him and gently slapped his cheek. No response.
He narrowed his eyes. His condition… it had reached the limit. And worse, Akira didn't even know where Alfia was staying anymore.
Clicking his tongue, he extended a hand and brushed his fingers against the blood on Zald's armor. The blood responded, floating up like fine mist, and spiraled into the air.
A thread of blood magic slithered out, gently merging into Zald's body.
Akira's eyes shimmered slightly.
"…The poison's everywhere. Not a single part of him is intact."
Despite being on the verge of collapse, the old man still chose to fight him head-on.
Akira's expression shifted subtly—part admiration, part exasperation.
He sighed. "It seems my miraculous intellect is required once again. If this fails, don't come crying to me, old man."
With a wry smirk and a flick of his wrist, he began to change classes.
From dimensional walker to blood mage.
His black hair elongated, strands becoming wild and unruly. Several locks were dyed crimson, as if dipped in blood. His eyes turned scarlet, glowing faintly with a dangerous, languid gleam.
A sinister, abyssal aura began to rise.
The temperature dropped.
From beneath his feet, a thick blood-red fog began to swirl across the church floor. It clung to the ground like a living creature, oozing and pulsing. The air turned iron-rich, thick with the scent of blood. The entire church transformed into a scene from a sacrificial ritual.
Anyone walking in now would think a demonic cult had just held an unholy mass.
With a snap of his fingers, blood began to rise from beneath Zald's body.
Like intelligent serpents, streams of crimson twisted and writhed into his armor, unfastening and peeling it away piece by piece.
Beneath the plate was a strong but rotting body—blue-black skin marred by dark veins. His muscles were deteriorating, and his flesh showed signs of corruption.
Akira clasped his hands together. The blood responded, encasing Zald in a cocoon. The floating blood spun around him slowly, forming a suspended sphere.
From Akira's fingers emerged long, sharp threads of blood. They shimmered with crimson energy, buzzing faintly as if alive. The threads dove into Zald's body, penetrating his skin with eerie precision.
Zald's body twitched.
Then came the thorns—blood spikes that stabbed into his limbs, anchoring him midair. They weren't for harm. They were to purge.
Akira narrowed his eyes as he guided the magic. Under his command, dark purple venom began to ooze from Zald's pores, wrapped in blood. Foul black impurities floated within the liquid.
The poison hissed as it was deposited on the ground nearby. A thick mist rose. The stone floor sizzled and melted, corroded by the virulent toxin.
"…That explains it. That damn beast really did a number on you."
After several minutes, the blood confirmed it. No more traces of Behemoth's poison remained.
Akira exhaled. "This kind of service isn't free, old man."
He smirked. "I'm charging two billion valis the moment you wake up."
Opening his backpack, Akira retrieved four vials of potions and poured them into the blood cocoon.
As the medicine spread, the blood threads thickened, pumping healing magic through Zald's body.
"Ahh... Such charity." Akira chuckled.
"But if you don't work for me like a good slave for a while, I'll spread rumors across Orario."
His smile twisted slightly as he imagined it.
Zald, a legendary hero, secretly sniffs men's clothing when no one's looking.
Akira grinned devilishly to himself. "That should scare him enough to repay me with interest."
Akira continued pouring the remaining potions into the blood cocoon, his expression focused.
Two vials were infused specifically to regenerate Zald's decaying muscles and organs, the other two addressed external injuries, patching torn skin and fractured bones.
Guided by Akira's mastery of the Blood Mage class, the crimson threads functioned like precise surgical tools—needles weaving through flesh and tissue, sewing vitality back into the dying body with unnatural accuracy. The magic pulsed with a life of its own.
As the potions took effect, Zald's transformation began. The rotting muscle tissue pulsed faintly, then slowly knit itself back together. The dark, bruised flesh began to regenerate—fibers binding into firm, healthy muscle. New skin formed over the wounds, slowly taking on a wheat-colored tone as the blue-black rot receded.
His breath deepened. His complexion, once ghostly pale, flushed pink with returning warmth.
Akira, watching all of this from beside the cocoon, let out a low whistle.
"Good, it's working... Heh, as expected, I'm a genius."
He crossed his arms and gave a smug nod to himself, muttering, "The brilliance of my mental faculties is unmatched."
A faint, soothing aroma of medicine filled the air—herbal and clean, tinged with warmth.
"Alright, that should do it."
With a flick of his hand, the web of blood threads slithered back toward his fingers like well-trained pets. They vanished into the cocoon and dispersed into mist.
The blood retreated. The cocoon softened and slowly peeled away, leaving behind Zald's mostly healed body.
Akira gently lowered him to the ground.
Zald's breathing was stable now. Though his body still looked slightly worn and lean from the ordeal, the threat of death had passed. His powerful chest rose and fell with regular rhythm, and his once-hardened expression had eased into one of rare peace.
Akira dragged a wooden bench over, flopped onto it, and groaned loudly. "Lucky old man. Damn it, I'm exhausted…"
He didn't even bother brushing off the dust as he lied down, one arm over his eyes. Though the healing hadn't drained his mind too much, the mental and physical strain had been considerable.
"Seriously, healing with blood magic is more tiring than fighting…" He muttered under his breath, sighing.