Areia ran like a wild spirit through the revitalized town, her heavy white coat clinging lazily across her bare shoulders, flapping in the wind behind her. A brilliant, unstoppable smile was etched onto her lips. She hadn't even bothered to put on a shirt, completely unbothered by the crisp evening air hitting her skin. She knew the layout of this facility down to the very millimeter—it hadn't physically changed, it was just that the crumbling buildings had been beautifully brought back to life, breathing with warmth instead of decay.
She burst through the heavy wooden doors of the great hall with a childlike, frantic intensity, her radiant smile refusing to fade. Her amethyst eyes instantly scanned the bustling crowd of teenagers and kids who were busy preparing a massive, celebratory banquet. Right in the center of the chaos, she spotted Berald, gesturing with his wooden cane and directing the coordination of the tables.
She walked up to him, her brisk, light steps gracefully happy and entirely devoid of their usual calm, dangerous allure. She stopped directly in front of the withered old man, planting her hands firmly on her slender hips. With a sharp, playful movement, she pointed a single finger right at his nose.
"Let's duel," she smiled, her teeth flashing in the torchlight.
Mandevor suddenly broke through the gathering crowd of flustered kids, his hands raised in a panic. "Areia! Hold on! I really don't think you should be trying to fight a fragile old man!"
"Alright," Berald said softly, bowing his slumping head slightly.
The moment the words left the old man's mouth, the bald spatial sorcerer standing beside him instantly disappeared into thin air, reappearing a fraction of a second later with two long, gleaming steel training blades held firmly in his hands. He handed them to the old chief without a word.
Areia's eyes beamed happily at the sight.
Within minutes, both fighters stood out in the open courtyard just outside the grand hall. The entire population of Amag's children—hundreds of curious, wide-eyed kids and teenagers—gathered around in a massive circle to witness the sudden, chaotic battle Areia had just sprung up on everyone. The warm wind swirled between the combatants, carrying the scent of the nearby cornfields.
"Are you entirely sure you want to fight me, Areia?" Berald said slowly, adjusting his grip on the twin hilts, his voice rasping against the wind. "Despite my aged, withered flesh... I am still the exact same dangerous killer I was all those years ago."
Areia casually tossed her heavy white fur coat back toward the crowd, where a frantic Mandevor scrambled to catch it. Left only in her dark skirt and simple bra, her slim, incredibly flexible physique was fully on display, her muscles relaxed and perfectly primed for insane speed. She reached down to her waist, her fingers wrapping around the hilt of her weapon, and pulled it free with a resonant SHING. It was a standard, unassuming longsword that you could find anywhere, lacking any divine enchantments.
"Remember, we never actually got to finish our brutal fight back during the battle of Villia," she smiled radiantly, her white hair shifting across her shoulders. "I already know for a fact that I am significantly stronger than you are now, old man... but I want to physically see by how much."
"As you wish," Berald bowed deeply.
Then, with quick, terrifyingly sharp movements that completely defied his frail appearance, he unsheathed both blades. The heavy iron cane clattered to the dirt as he settled low into a dual-wielding stance—the exact, aggressive forward-leaning stance he had violently etched into her soul through a thousand brutal training sessions.
Areia didn't even bother to take a proper combat stance. She just stood perfectly relaxed, staring at the man who used to haunt her nightmares, her amethyst eyes twitching with pure, unadulterated excitement. Absolute peace registered in her mind. She was happy—incredibly, beautifully so. Of course, Dan hadn't technically confessed to her face-to-face in the physical world, but after reading that letter, she was now one hundred percent, absolutely certain that he loved her with every fiber of his being. And that certainty made her invincible.
"Whenever you are ready," Berald said, his double blades tracking her slender frame.
Areia's smile widened as she reached up with her left hand, her fingers gently touching the pristine petals of the white Camelia tucked into her hair, securing it in place.
"It's finally my turn to give you my personal share of the beating," she laughed, her voice a sharp chime in the dusk. "Come at me whenever you like. Oh, and by the way... no magic allowed."
With that, the battle began.
Well, that is if it could truly be called a battle; it was far more akin to a harsh, one-sided training lesson where the master had miserably become the student. Berald was by no means weak, slow, or devoid of his legendary, ruthless form, but Areia was just fundamentally, monstrously stronger.
CLANG!
Their steel blades violently clashed in the center of the courtyard, the sharp, scraping noise echoing like a gunshot through the open night sky. Bright orange sparks went flying everywhere, illuminating the dark dirt beneath their boots. With a fluid, practiced flick of her wrist, Areia parried his first heavy blow with absolute ease. Before the vibration could even travel up her arm, she seamlessly ducked her upper body to dodge his second blade, the whistling edge slicing clean through the empty air where her head had just been.
Capitalizing on his momentum, her slim leg shot upward. Her knee caught Berald squarely on the chin.
The blunt, raw force of the impact sent the old man tumbling backward across the dirt like a broken ragdoll. Areia stood perfectly poised before him, her left hand tucked elegantly behind her back while her sword remained outstretched in her right, completely unbothered.
"Get up," she said happily, her voice dripping with an almost childish glee. "Surely you're not this weak, are you? Are you holding out on me?"
Under the moonless, starry night sky, Areia's striking purple eyes seemed to faintly glow with an ethereal intensity. The crackling torches placed all around the courtyard cast long, dancing shadows, illuminating her pristine white hair as it shifted beautifully in the warm wind.
Berald pushed himself up with a heavy, ragged grunt. Wiping a smear of blood from his lip, his eyes narrowed with the desperate pride of an old tiger. He lunged forward, charging at Areia as his body moved like a lethal, high-speed projectile.
He attacked her from every single direction conceivable. A descending strike from up above—PARRIED. He immediately rebounded off the ground, spinning low to deliver a vicious, sweeping cut at her ankles—Areia defended against it effortlessly, her boots shifting with micro-movements. He moved so blisteringly fast that blurry afterimages began to form in his wake, encircling her in a hurricane of flashing steel, attacking from all directions at once.
Yet, Areia just stood in the dead center of the storm. Calmly, fluidly, she parried and defended against every single one of his desperate, high-speed attacks using only a single hand. She smiled brightly the entire time, a sweet, carefree laugh escaping her lips that completely contrast the deadly dance of their blades.
"You're panicking, old man," she said simply.
In the middle of his next combination, she casually let go of her sword. The weapon fell to the ground with a resonant CLANG.
With her newly freed right hand, she cleanly deflected his first oncoming blade, simultaneously tilting her delicate head to the side to dodge the other. In the same breath, her fingers shot out like a viper, clamping hard around the old man's neck mid-air. With one powerful, unyielding twist of her slender torso, she slammed him violently into the ground.
BOOM!
A thick cloud of debris and dust violently exploded into the air, a localized shockwave rippling through the atmosphere and blowing out the nearest torches.
"Your form is still perfectly fine, but you're just far too slow," she said, looking down at him with a warm, triumphant smile. "Well, let's officially call it a day for now. I won in the end."
She gracefully slid off his chest, offering her hand to let the old man stand up. Berald took it, rising unsteadily as he stared at her in absolute, breathless awe.
"Just... what on earth have you become?" he asked, his voice shaking in profound shock.
Areia simply shrugged her slender shoulders. She leaned down to pick up her standard blade, smoothly slid it back into its leather sheath, and then balanced the sheathed weapon casually across the back of her shoulders.
"Well, when you spend your days constantly fighting bloodthirsty demons, cosmic monsters, ancient vampires, and literal primordial Dragons... you're bound to get a little stronger," she said sweetly, casually recounting a list of absolute, near-death nightmares as if she were talking about the weather.
Berald stared down at his violently shaking hands. Though Areia had technically stayed on the defensive throughout the majority of their fight, her casual parries and blocks carried a dense, terrifying physical strength that had shaken the very marrow of his bones.
This fight could hardly be called a scratch to both our full, latent powers, Berald thought, his chest heaving as he watched Areia suddenly get swarmed from all sides by the village children. They pestered her with a chaotic barrage of starry-eyed questions and loud praises, and to his surprise, she actually smiled warmly, trying her absolute best to give her genuine attention to each and every one of them. But as a master of the sword, I can tell... this girl will one day reach the absolute pinnacle of cosmic strength.
Berald let out a long sigh, shaking his weathered head as a faint, ironic smile touched his slumping face.
"I don't know what madness drove me to begin my horrific experiment all those years ago," he muttered into the dark, watching her white hair catch the firelight. "But it officially concluded the exact day she stepped out of her glass jar. She'll fulfill my twisted dreams whether she likes it or not... after all, she has chosen to be knight of Destruction himself."
The dark, oppressive atmosphere that had hung over the Lair of Amag for a decade didn't just break—it completely shattered, replaced by the crackling warmth of a massive bonfire built right in the center of the courtyard.
The feast that was originally meant for the cramped, wooden great hall had seamlessly bled out into the crisp night. Huge platters of roasted meats, fresh corn, and steamed rice were passed around, but barely anyone was actually looking at the food. Instead, a sprawling crowd of hundreds of children, teenagers, and even the village elders had formed a tight, mesmerizing circle around the fire.
Sitting right at the heart of it all on a large log was Areia. She had finally slipped into a pair of loose, comfortable travel pants, but she still hadn't bothered to put her shirt or fur coat back on. Sitting there in just her dark skirt-line, pants, and simple bra, her slender, athletic frame caught the flickering orange glow of the flames.
"Can you actually believe it?! The entire world out there was completely, utterly messed up!" Areia said loudly, her voice carrying an animated, theatrical energy that absolutely no one had ever heard from her before. She threw her hands in the air, her amethyst eyes wide and expressive. "The original occupants of the planet had been violently wiped out by an ancient curse, leaving only a small, ragtag group of survivors behind!"
The crowd hung on her every syllable. Mandevor, Berald, and the bald spatial sorcerer stood near the back, completely dumbfounded. In all their years, they had never seen the stoic, iron-willed Number 1 talk this much, let alone narrate stories like a traveling bard.
"Who was the terrifying Demon Lord at the very end of that continent?" one of the younger kids asked, leaning forward so fast he nearly fell into the ash.
"Well, turns out there was no actual Demon Lord! Apparently, the high-tier demons I fought out there were just completely delusional and making it up!" Areia laughed, leaning back. "But, I did manage to find a neat, weird little angel though!" She giggled, using her slender arms to clumsily mimic fluttering wings, making the surrounding toddlers burst into giggles.
As the night deepened, her tales only grew more wild, fueled by the sheer, liberating joy of the letter resting safely against her heart.
"And you know what that idiot did next?" Areia suddenly growled, her face scrunching up in a playful, affectionate pout. "He literally, physically pushed me straight into a freezing lake! The absolute nerve and guts Dan has! And to make matters a hundred times worse, he lost his footing and jumped right in after me! We were both stuck in the thick mud for hours, completely dirty, sticky, and smelling like wet frogs!"
The teenagers roared with laughter, tossing wood onto the campfire, making a brilliant tower of sparks shoot up toward the moonless sky.
"Then, the sheer guts of these other people," Areia continued, shifting on her log and throwing a piece of roasted meat into her mouth. "They just casually marched into our camp and put Dan to sleep with a high-grade sedative, claiming they were the official 'Hero's Party' or whatever. Man, did I have my work cut out for me that day! Even the actual Hero showed up later and started aggressively ranting about me supposedly killing her sister!" Areia shrugged her bare shoulders dismissively. "I fought the entire vanguard until Master finally came along and handled the whole situation."
"How did he handle it?" Toby asked from across the fire, leaning on his hand with a massive grin.
"Well, to be completely honest, I'm still not entirely sure what he said to Cyra, but the two of them fought a little bit. And to be even more honest, I was absolutely furious at the time because Dan placed a binding spell on me that completely forbade me from moving a single inch!" Areia huffed loudly, crossing her arms over her chest, her pale cheeks flushing. "I mean, seriously! Who does he think I am? How can I properly be his personal knight when he literally bans me from going to the frontlines?!"
The children cheered, completely enchanted by the domestic bickering of a legendary duo.
"But that wasn't even the craziest part. After that, we encountered a guy who was basically Batman," Areia said, her voice dropping into a menacing, theatrical whisper as she leaned toward the kids.
"Don't you mean a vampire, Areia?" Toby corrected dynamically, raising an eyebrow.
"Well, it's the exact same thing, they all turn into screeching bats anyway, don't they?!" Areia said impatiently, waving her hand to dismiss his logic. "The point is, the cocky bastard had been running an entire underground country full of monstrous entities for centuries!"
"How on earth did you beat him?!" a teenager chimed in, leaning over the log barrier. "I read in the old archives that true vampires can only be killed with pure silver weapons or highly specialized holy equipment!"
"The books are completely lying to you," Areia shrugged, a cocky, beautiful smirk gracing her lips. "When you just plummel them continuously for a while with raw, unadulterated physical force, they die like anything else. And to be perfectly honest, that vampire wasn't even all that strong anyway. But... I will admit his dramatic entrance was incredibly cool. Maybe I'll try to copy it the next time I meet up with Dan! There were heavy dark clouds, cracking purple lightning, wolves howling in the distance, and all that!" Areia expressed wildly, throwing her hands up to simulate lightning bolts.
"I have a quick question," a softer voice broke through the laughter.
Areia stopped her grand gestures, blinking as she looked across the fire. A teenage girl nearly as old as Areia was speaking up, nervously playing with a strand of her own dark hair.
"When exactly... is Dan coming back?" the girl asked softly, her eyes darting down shyly. "I was just... really hoping I'd get a chance to see him again," she muttered.
Suddenly, the festive atmosphere hit a hilarious, screeching halt. Areia froze. Her amethyst eyes narrowed as she looked around the massive circle. It instantly struck her—nearly all the elder teenage girls in the village carried the exact same curious, starry-eyed, and hopeful expression, eagerly awaiting the answer to the question.
Areia's protective instincts violently flared. She snapped back into a defensive posture, her arms locking across her chest.
"Well, with all of you acting like this, I don't think I'll ever bring him here until he and I are officially married!" Areia said defensively, her voice dropping into a sharp, territorial possessiveness.
"Hey! No fair! You can't just hog the savior all to yourself!" a mock riot broke out instantly among the older girls, laughs and playful jeers echoing across the courtyard.
"Well, what am I supposed to do with you hawks?!" Areia yelled back, a bright, defensive crimson flushing her face and neck. "You'll try to snatch him away the very first chance you get! To be completely honest, even after we're married, I don't think I'll ever trust Dan around a crowd like you lots! Maybe I'll throw a kid into the mix real quick just to secure the deal!"
"You're so incredibly stingy, Areia!" the girl countered, throwing a piece of popcorn at her.
"Of course I am! It's Dan we're talking about!" Areia smiled radiantly, a fierce, deep warmth taking over her entire expression as she looked down at the ring on her finger. "He's all mine."
"Areia, I highly think you should change the topic before the little kids get way too curious about where babies come from," Mandevor called out loudly from the edge of the crowd. He was sitting on a crate, momentarily looking away from the intense card game he and a couple of the local village boys were playing, shaking his head with a laugh.
Areia just stuck her tongue out at him, completely unbothered, her laughter mingling with the crackle of the fire as the festive night roared on.