Albion sat up slowly on the motionless Black Water, his right hand clamped tightly over the severe diagonal wound across his torso.
The slash began near his collarbone, dragged deep over his chest, and finished near his developing abdominal muscles. Thanks to his regeneration power, a small portion of the wound near the center had begun to knit together.
But for the most part, it remained fresh, hot, and exposed.
Every breath dragged at his lungs, pulling at shredded muscle.His face was pale, his eyes heavy with physical exhaustion, yet his expression remained strangely calm, puzzled, but deeply grounded.
A fair distance away, Amon stood beside Yang under the pale light of the Hollow Sun. He held his ribs, but his face was contorted into his usual cocky, arrogant grin. Blood dripped from his chin, pulling at his stitched cheeks.
"So what's the big plan now, Albion?" Amon called out, his voice echoing over the quiet expanse with mocking amusement. "Are you going to stand up, power through that open chest though sheer willpower, and try to reach out to me again? Try to 'save' me? Or maybe you're going to use this realm to pull off another little trick, like you did with that iron pipe? Or are you finally going to yield, give up, and submit to your king?"
Albion looked across the floor at him. A tired, half-lazy, exhausted smile touched his lips.
"You've got it all wrong, Amon." he said, his voice quiet and completely stripped of fluff. "And you're predictable. Once again, you only give me three options. Just like last time... there's a fourth."
Albion adjusted his grip on his chest, wincing slightly as he spoke.
"My back is actually against the wall," Albion explained simply. "I'm at my physical limit. I barely have any magic left. In fact, I'm almost completely empty. To regenerate a body like this takes magical energy. In the real world, once a container empties, resting allows Ethernano in the atmosphere to seep back inside and replenish it. But we're in my mind. There is no Ethernano here. Once I run out... that's it. This was the last injury I could afford to heal. If I take another hit like this, it's over for me."
He paused, his fuchsia eyes fixing onto Amon with calm certainty.
"In the past, I probably would have panicked and tried one of the three things you suggested. But I'm not alone anymore. There's another choice."
Behind Albion, Reiga's massive, obsidian form suddenly coiled. Without a word of warning, the Black Dragon dropped low, lunged through the air with a deafening roar, and slammed directly into Yang.
The impact sent both titanic beasts crashing into the floor a distance away. They tumbled across the Black Water, spraying sheets of dark liquid into the dark expanse. Reiga ended up pinned directly over Yang, a fierce, wicked grin spreading across his crocodilian jaw, having caught the white dragon completely off guard.
A short while earlier…
Albion sat beside the coiling black leviathan, clutching his bleeding chest as he looked into Reiga's single, pale-blue eye.
"I have a plan," Albion had said softly. "I couldn't beat Amon before, and I definitely can't beat him now in a direct fight. I'm at my limit. But even if my body is empty... my mind isn't. If I want to save Amon, I have to go beyond what I can currently do. I have to transcend into a better version of myself."
Albion looked up, his tone quiet, clear, and absolute.
"I can handle Amon. I have an idea... but I need you to handle Yang for me. Can you do that? Please? This will be my first and last order."
Reiga hadn't questioned him. He had simply given a low, resonant nod of his massive head.
Back in the present, Yang growled beneath Reiga's crushing weight, recovering from his initial shock.
"You fool!" Yang snarled, his porcelain scales glowing faintly as he strained against Reiga's talons. "If you do this—if you push yourself in the state this realm is in—you'll die!"
"That may be," Reiga retorted, his deep voice rumbling through the floor as his sharp teeth bared in a dark smirk. "But I will gladly drag you to hell with me."
"Stupid fool!" Yang growled.
'I have to get to the king!' he thought frantically, assuming Reiga's primary target was Amon.
With a violent, twisting surge of his long, serpentine body, Yang whipped his tail upward, using the momentum to throw Reiga's weight off his torso. Slipping free, the white dragon kicked off the floor, darting at high speed back toward Amon's location.
Reiga moved instantly. Intercepting the line, the Black Dragon drove his heavy, armor-plated shoulder straight into Yang's side, pinning him down onto the floor a second time.
Two deafening roars split the air—Reiga's a cry of fierce triumph, and Yang's a bellow of pure frustration.
From where he stood, Amon looked over at the struggling dragons with complete indifference.
"Don't worry about me, Yang," Amon said coldly, not even looking back. "Worry about yourself. Do whatever you want... just stay out of my way. The only one worthy of killing Albion is me."
Yang hesitated, his pale eyes flickering before he lowered his head. "Yes, Master."
Turning his full focus back to the Black Dragon, Yang opened his jaws, lunged forward, and clamped his interlocking fangs directly around the base of Reiga's tail. Reiga snarled, digging his talons into Yang's hide. Thrashing violently, both dragons roared into the dark sky, taking flight together, spiraling upward into the void as their proxy war moved into the heavens.
Above them, a jagged bolt of purple lightning crackled down through the fractures in the sky.
Down on the floor, Amon turned back to Albion, a cold chuckle escaping his lips.
"You seriously believe you can defeat me in your current state?" Amon mocked, taking a slow step forward. "Look at you. You can't even stand on your own two feet. Pathetic. You make me want to puke."
Albion didn't answer the insult. He simply offered a small, quiet smile, staring down at the floor beneath him. He had finally realized something about the nature of this realm.
Amon and Reiga didn't possess information threads. They weren't living beings bound by physical laws—they were manifestations of his own consciousness and memory.
Bored by Albion's silence, Amon dropped his stance. "My fist is all I need to end this."
Amon charged forward. Even with his damaged ribs, his speed was terrifying, closing the distance between them in a couple of seconds.
Albion remained seated on the floor. Slowly, calmly, he pressed his open palm against the cold, liquid surface of the Black Water.
'Memories that manifest within the Inner World behave like temporary structures. However, these manifestations are not permanent. Once the memory fades, the structures collapse and dissolve back into the black water, leaving the foundation of the Inner World unchanged.'
It was how he had manifested the iron pipe earlier, by holding its precise physical composition in his mind. But he didn't need a pipe right now.
"Didn't you know, Amon?" Albion spoke aloud, his voice steady and calm as Amon closed the final few yards. "I'm amazing at thinking on my feet. My mind... and my connections... are all I need to beat you."
Just as Amon threw his right fist forward, a dense club came directly out of his blind spot from the Black Water.
Amon reacted on pure instinct, pulling his arms up to block. But the sudden movement pulled violently on his ribs. A sharp, agonizing throb shot through his side, causing his guard to falter for a moment.
The heavy iron club struck his forearm with crushing force. The weapon seemed to unnaturally extend its reach mid-swing, driving its full, dense weight into Amon's guard. The sheer momentum stopped Amon's charge dead in its tracks, sending a horrific vibration through his bones. Amon's three eyes widened in sheer shock and pain.
Before he could recover his balance, a dense wave of Black Water surged out from his opposite blind spot, crashing violently against his chest.
The pressure threw Amon backward. He tumbled across the solid surface of the floor, the dark fluid washing over him before he finally dragged to a halt. Amon pushed himself up, drenched and gasping for air as his ribs screamed in agony.
"What the hell... just happened?!" Amon hissed, clutching his side as he glared forward.
His three eyes widened in disbelief. Standing directly in front of the seated Albion were two distinct figures, both facing Amon with quiet, resolute smiles.
To the left stood a nine-year-old boy. His thick, black hair was sharply spiked, falling to his upper back with loose strands framing his face. His eyes were an unnatural crimson with dark, slitted pupils. He had no eyebrows—instead, three metal studs sat above each eye, two on each side of his nose, two on his chin, and five earrings pierced each ear.
Dark, flame-like markings curled up his exposed forearms.
To the right stood a young girl in slightly oversized clothes. She wore a deep navy varsity jacket with silver-white sleeves over dark gray shorts, and chunky navy sneakers on her feet. Small snowflake earrings glinted at her ears, and in her arms, she held a soft gray plush seal clutched tightly against her chest.
Her midnight-blue hair was tied into high pigtails with pale blue ribbons, framing a pale, porcelain face and large, watchful azure eyes.
Vestiges of Gajeel Lionheart and Juvia Graywater.
Albion didn't possess a full, perfect understanding of their magic. He had never fought Juvia directly, though she had explained the concepts of her water magic to him. He had fought Gajeel, felt the raw impact of his iron, and heard Juvia explain that Gajeel was an Iron Dragon Slayer.
Through Codex Magic and his memory, Albion had reconstructed the principles of their combat styles within his mind.
Sitting behind them, Albion looked past the two figures toward Amon, a small, tired smile on his pale face.
"I'm going to need some help with this one, you guys," Albion said softly, his voice full of quiet, honest gratitude. "I know I only really got the chance to befriend one of you... but in the future, I hope me and you can become friends too, Gajeel. If that's possible for us."
Albion looked up, his fuchsia eyes shining with clear conviction.
"Come on now, Iron Dragon Slayer. Show me what you can do... because I'm going dragon hunting."
The two vestiges turned their heads to look back at Albion. Neither of them possessed vocal cords to speak, but their actions spoke clearly.
Juvia offered Albion a bright, warm smile. She raised her right hand, making a small, determined fist in the air, the exact gesture reminding him of the promise they had made before he left.
Gajeel simply gave a firm, heavy nod of his head, raising his thumb into a crisp thumbs-up.
Both turned back to face Amon.
Amon stared at the three of them, his breath hitching, his jaw tight with rage and confusion.
"Do you get it now, Amon?" Albion called out quietly over the quiet expanse. "You aren't just facing me."
High above them in the dark sky, Reiga's triumphant roar echoed through the clouds, clashing against the violent surges of purple lightning.
Albion's fuchsia eyes locked onto Amon with certainty. "You're facing the combined strength... of all four of us."