Chapter 50 _ The Sorrowful Decisive Battle, or a Requiem for a Friend
Moonlight washed the frozen land in pale white,
while the wind howled through the trees like a mourning cry.
Before us stood the Wicked Dragon—Loki.
And thus, our final battle began.
Loki unleashed torrents of black, scorching flame all at once.
“Pragmatic Seventh Wall!”
Frey had already understood—
there would be no avoiding this fight.
An ultimate defensive spell,
one that normally required a long incantation,
had already been cast in secret.
At her sharp chant,
seven-colored mana unfolded into a massive dome,
meeting Loki’s jet-black inferno head-on.
The black flames slammed into the barrier—
yet the wall did not yield.
Rainbow light scattered the explosion,
scorching the surrounding earth.
The smell of burned soil filled the air.
Ignoring the defense entirely,
Loki charged forward with a thunderous roar.
In his crimson eyes,
hatred itself seemed to have burned away,
leaving only emptiness behind.
In that instant—
Loki rushed in without caring for the damage the wall might inflict.
The ground shook.
His massive form closed in.
There was nothing left reflected in his eyes.
“Earthquake!”
At Hans’s spell,
the earth beneath Loki erupted.
The ground rippled like waves, cracks splitting open.
Loki’s charge halted as his balance collapsed.
Dust surged upward, obscuring our vision.
Seizing the moment—
Wilfred closed the distance in a flash,
like a cutting gale.
The sword Eridush, reflecting moonlight, flashed once.
The strike was overwhelming,
tearing through Loki’s black scales.
A shriek like rending metal echoed.
Black blood sprayed, hissing as it struck the ground.
I followed with covering fire.
The whistle of crossbow bolts cutting the air—
one after another, buried into Loki’s body.
“Magic Missile!”
Iris’s voice rang out.
At the same instant,
she launched her spell straight at Loki’s face.
Bolts of light tore through the night.
Explosion.
A blinding flash engulfed him.
Closing the distance,
Iris drove in several precise thrusts.
Her sword Irabratis glowed pale blue
as it pierced Loki’s flesh.
“GRAAAAH!”
Loki roared in pain.
Blinded, he thrashed wildly with his massive claws.
The air screamed, rocks shattered, giant trees were torn down.
WHAM! WHAM!
The ferocity forced Wilfred and Iris
to retreat behind the wall.
“One minute.
Buy me one minute.”
Wilfred steadied his stance, sword held before him,
his focus sharpening to a deadly point.
I quickly assessed the situation.
The ground, churned by Earthquake,
was uneven—
soil overturned, stones exposed.
“Iris!
Maximum water magic at Loki’s feet!
Hans, another quake!”
“Got it—Flood!”
A massive volume of water surged forth,
soaking the ground.
Hans instantly grasped my intent.
“I see!
Earthquake!”
The torrent turned the ground into sludge,
then into a deep, swallowing mire.
Loki’s massive body sank,
unable to support its own weight.
“Guh…!”
He was immobilized.
Meanwhile—
Wilfred was gathering every ounce of his spirit.
His entire body became engulfed in red flame—
no, aura.
Like a blazing inferno.
The air trembled.
Heat washed over us.
Grass around him scorched black.
But—
“Foolish!”
Loki roared.
Even trapped,
the mighty dragon summoned his final strength
and beat his enormous wings.
BA-THOOM!
A monstrous shockwave exploded outward.
We were flung like leaves,
slammed into the ground over ten meters away.
Pain tore through my back.
I couldn’t move.
None of us could—
except Wilfred, who had stabbed his sword into the earth to brace himself.
Even so,
his arm was badly damaged, blood dripping freely.
Then—
Loki dragged himself free of the mire
and fixed us within his range.
His mud-covered form advanced under the moon.
One step.
Another.
The ground trembled.
This is it…
I accepted death.
At that moment—
The claw meant to strike us down stopped.
Loki looked at us—
with sorrow in his eyes.
From those burning eyes,
a single large tear fell,
vanishing into the mud.
“Breath turns to heat,
blood to raging flame.
I carve my soul away,
and offer everything to this one strike…”
Wilfred’s body erupted in crimson aura.
“Ultimate Art—Scarlet King’s Single Flash!”
A shockwave dyed the night red.
BOOOOM!
The blast pierced straight through Loki’s chest.
Black blood scattered across the sky.
The colossal body tilted,
slowly—
as if falling through eternity.
THUD.
Silence returned.
Moonlight shone upon Loki’s fallen form.
We dragged our wounded bodies closer.
“…Why did you stop?” I asked.
Loki replied in a faint, gentle voice.
“I am… tired.”
A breath barely more than a whisper.
“If I am to die…
let it be by familiar hands…
Frey’s…”
“You fool…”
Frey’s voice trembled violently.
“You had decided to die from the start.”
“Frey…
you have found good friends…
I envy you…”
Loki gazed at us,
then at the moon above.
“I remember…
those childhood days…
playing until sunset…”
Tears streamed down Frey’s face.
“Loki…
you saved me from loneliness…
my first… my only friend…”
She embraced his massive head,
her tears soaking his scales.
“…May I… be called your friend…
just once more…
as I go…”
Loki’s voice faded.
His eyes closed.
The wind passed through the trees,
whispering like a funeral hymn.
The Wicked Dragon Loki
ended his centuries-long hatred,
wrapped at last in a friend’s love.
“He was winning…” I murmured.
“Why…?”
Iris wept beside me.
“Perhaps…
he bore all that hatred alone,
for the sake of his kin…”
Hans gazed up at the moon sadly.
“And because Loki carried that hatred…
humans and dragons never went to full war…”
Wilfred nodded heavily.
“You fool…
you fool…”
Frey clung to Loki’s head, sobbing.
The moon emerged from the clouds,
quietly illuminating the battlefield.
Frey turned and walked away—
never looking back.
Because if she did,
the tears would never stop.
Upon her back rested the pride and sorrow
borne only by one who has sent off a dear friend with her own hands.
The night sky glittered with countless stars.
Among them,
it felt as though one new star had been added.
And so,
before dawn had yet arrived,
we resumed our journey—
our steps heavy,
our hearts heavier still.
