Chapter 1254
"For the moment..."
A flicker of satisfaction crossed Burren’s weary features despite his exhaustion.
"Did we actually pull it off?"
Observing Martha and Runaan clutching each other, their bodies turning rigid in unison, it appeared that the reckless gamble had actually paid dividends.
'I really owe my father a word of thanks for this.'
A faint smile touched Burren’s lips as he thought of Karoon.
'Still, the predicament is dire.'
Having been forced to stall both Syria Sullion and Runaan—both of whom possessed power far exceeding his own—his physical form was reaching its breaking point.
The lacerations on his skin were deep, but the trauma to his internal organs was even more concerning; realistically, he wasn't sure how much longer he could remain upright in a fight.
'Martha’s situation is even more precarious.'
Martha had frozen in place with Runaan’s blade still embedded in her. Because the weapon hadn't been withdrawn, the hemorrhaging wasn't catastrophic yet, but the slightest disturbance could turn the wound fatal.
'I need to buy a few moments.'
To safeguard Martha, he had to claw back even a shred of his vitality. Though the idea revolted him, he needed to engage Syria Sullion in conversation just to waste time.
"Your look has shifted. I take it this wasn't part of your grand design?"
Burren fixed a sharp gaze on Syria Sullion and let out a mocking rasp.
"Hmm..."
Syria Sullion looked visibly unsettled by the shift in the battlefield. He bit his lip hard, his eyes darting between Runaan and Martha.
"Th-this is impossible. It shouldn't be happening."
The Bear Fire Demon, hiding behind the Bearwolf Shaman’s visage, trembled so violently his jaw rattled, voicing his disbelief.
"Impossible?"
Burren spat a glob of copper-tasting blood onto the dirt and forced his spine straight.
"The only thing that doesn't make sense is that filth like you are still breathing the same air as me!"
Vowing that he would see them dead, he tightened his fingers into a fist, despite his fading grip strength.
"Ughhhk!"
Intimidated by the sheer pressure of Burren’s killing intent, the Bear Fire Demon recoiled, clutching his staff and stumbling backward.
"Runaan..."
Syria Sullion completely disregarded Burren, his focus narrowing entirely on Martha.
"I’m going to end her!"
Losing his patience entirely, he channeled his murderous spirit into his massive blade and swung it toward Martha’s defenseless form.
"Blast it!"
Burren lunged, desperately drawing in the air he had been trying to conserve, attempting to throw himself in the path of the strike.
"N-no! Stop!"
The Bear Fire Demon ceased his retreat and rushed forward to catch Syria Sullion’s arm.
"If you interfere with them now, Lady Runaan will be caught in the backlash! She could be permanently broken!"
He gestured frantically, insisting that any contact with the pair right now would be ruinous for Runaan.
"Huu..."
Burren managed to steady his pulse and began a slow, deliberate walk toward Martha.
"You acted like you held all the cards, but now you’re afraid to even twitch?"
He tossed the insult out purposefully; if Syria Sullion snapped, there was no telling what kind of havoc he might wreak on Martha.
Vapors of dark energy billowed from the Baphomet helm worn by Syria Sullion.
"Even if I must leave that pathetic woman alone for now..."
A terrifyingly thick Black Flame ignited within the depths of his visor.
"I can still enjoy ripping your limbs from your torso!"
Syria Sullion gnashed his teeth, snarling that he would butcher Burren and leave the remains for scavengers.
"Give it your best shot."
Burren lifted his chin defiantly.
"Let’s find out whose blood stains the dirt today."
Emulating the image of Raon, whom he had spent so long following, he held his blade high and firm, refusing to yield an inch even at death’s door.
Syria Sullion hoisted his great sword, now wreathed in dark, malevolent energy, above his head. The metal gave a sickening screech as it brushed against the horns of his helmet.
"Perish."
He brought the heavy blade down with enough force to shatter stone.
Burren didn't flinch. He sprang toward the descending weapon. Using the cutting wind technique, he manipulated the airflow to shift the trajectory of the strike away from his skull and toward his shoulder.
He tilted his own blade at an acute angle, parrying the massive weight of Syria Sullion’s weapon as it plummeted toward his right side.
The great sword slammed into the earth, carving a massive fissure and sending plumes of black fire skyward. Had that blow landed squarely, Burren’s body would have been reduced to pulp.
"Hmm..."
Burren winced, his shoulder trembling uncontrollably.
'He's a complete freak of nature.'
Even though he had successfully diverted the momentum and used his sword to slide the impact away, his shoulder felt like it had been struck by a falling mountain. The vibration through his muscles left his hand feeling entirely devoid of sensation.
"How many more of those pathetic tricks do you have left?"
Syria Sullion’s mouth curled into a cruel grin, and he redoubled his efforts, swinging the great sword with even greater ferocity. He wasn't using complex forms, but his raw power and velocity were beyond comprehension.
"Krrrrgh!"
Burren enveloped himself in the cutting wind technique, working frantically to deflect the relentless barrage of heavy strikes.
'This is terrifying.'
The skin on his side felt as though it were being seared just from the proximity of the weapon...
Every time he evaded a direct hit, the sheer force of the wind off the blade seemed to tear at his flesh and snap his muscle fibers. If the mere aftershocks were this damaging, a direct hit would undoubtedly result in instant death.
'I'm lucky, at least, that I've mastered the cutting wind technique to this level.'
Without the protective gale he generated around himself to parry incoming steel, he wouldn't have lasted five seconds, let alone bought enough time for Martha. He wouldn't have stood a chance.
Once again, a silent thanks went out to Karoon.
'If I can just stay on the defensive and Martha manages to wake Runaan... wait?'
As Burren prepared to deflect a horizontal sweep aimed at his midsection, something changed.
The dark energy radiating from Syria Sullion’s great sword surged with renewed intensity, physically crushing through the defensive winds.
Burren thrust his sword forward in a panic, but the raw, oppressive weight of Syria Sullion’s power was too much to overcome.
'Hold on. This sensation...'
Burren’s eyes narrowed as he watched his winds being cleaved apart by the dark metal.
'I can almost see it.'
His mind sparked with the proximity of a realization—a way to completely neutralize the momentum of that overwhelming blade.
But the epiphany was too slow. The great sword arrived first.
He threw up a desperate guard, but Syria Sullion’s weapon smashed through his defense, striking his waist and sending his own sword back into his body.
"Kerhuk!"
Burren coughed up a spray of dark, stagnant blood as he was sent tumbling across the earth.
"N-not... over..."
He forced his head up, watching Syria Sullion’s slow, predatory approach.
"It’s an impressive style. Quite well-developed. But..."
Syria Sullion rested the massive blade on his shoulder and scowled.
"Your concentration is wavering. This is clearly your first time testing this in a real life-or-death struggle."
He smirked, looking as though he could read every one of Burren's internal struggles.
"Hmm..."
Burren swallowed hard, staring into Syria’s freezing eyes.
'He isn't wrong.'
He had been so focused on the technical mechanics of the cutting wind technique that he hadn't noticed his mental focus becoming fragmented.
He should have been retreating to prolong the engagement, but he had made a critical tactical error.
Still, it wasn't a total loss. This clash with Syria Sullion had given him the spark he needed to reach the next level of his craft. Of course, that was only useful if he didn't die in the next ten seconds.
"Die."
Syria Sullion’s voice was devoid of emotion as he raised his sword for the final time.
"Not yet..."
Burren bit his lip until it bled, watching the blade blot out the sky.
Death was staring him in the face, but he refused to blink. He mustered every last drop of his fighting spirit, determined to go down swinging.
Just as the steel began its descent toward his skull, a flash of silver intervened.
Syria Sullion’s world-crushing strike was halted by a slender, elegant blade, stopping mere inches from Burren’s face.
'That weapon...'
Burren’s eyes widened at the sight of the familiar silver long sword holding back the great sword’s weight.
"Haaa..."
From the shadow of the massive weapon, he heard a soft, familiar breath for the first time in an eternity.
"Runaan! You've finally come back to us!"
Syria Sullion erupted in a jubilant, twisted smile at the woman who had blocked his path.
"I’ve been waiting..."
"I'm sorry..."
Runaan didn't look at Syria Sullion. She looked at Burren, her lip trembling slightly.
"We can talk... when this is finished..."
She gave a small, solemn nod, asking him to hold on just a little longer.
"R-Runaan..."
Syria Sullion felt a lump in his throat as he saw the brilliant violet light pulsing from within the Baphomet helmet Runaan wore.
"It’s been too long..."
The helmet masking Runaan’s face suddenly fractured down the center, falling away to reveal eyes that sparkled with their true, vibrant violet hue.
"Let’s put an end to this nightmare..."
Runaan raised her silver-rimmed sword, pointing the tip directly at Syria Sullion’s throat.
"Syria Sullion."
Runaan closed her eyes briefly, centering herself as she reconnected with the world.
'Martha...'
The first sight to greet her upon her return to reality was Martha, her chest pierced by Runaan’s own steel.
She moved instantly to withdraw the blade and stanch the flow of blood, but she knew Martha’s life was hanging by a thread.
'Burren is in a bad way, too...'
Burren was hacking up blood, clearly having taken a brutal beating from Syria Sullion while he played the role of their shield. He needed medical attention immediately to prevent permanent damage.
'I'm hardly at my best either.'
Her own body was reeling from the strain of being possessed by the Baphomet helmet.
However, bolstered by the courage and resolve Martha had shared within the dreamscape, she felt an inner strength that felt unshakeable.
"Runaan. What's the meaning of this? You... you are my counterpart!"
Syria Sullion’s jaw shook with pure shock.
"The enchantment... it's gone. Even someone who has reached Transcendence shouldn't be able to shatter it..."
The Bear Fire Demon was panicking, sweat pouring down from beneath his mask as he witnessed the impossible.
"Haaaa..."
Runaan drew a deep, steadying breath.
"The person I want to be with... isn't you... Syria Sullion, you are nothing but an enemy I have to destroy..."
She projected a cold, unwavering aura of pure enmity.
"......"
Syria Sullion stared at her with the hollow, vacant expression of a discarded plaything.
"Bear. Fire. Demon."
He gestured toward the trembling figure behind him.
"...Do it."
At Syria Sullion’s command to begin, he slammed his great sword into the magic-inscribed earth.
"Y-yes, my lord!"
As the Bear Fire Demon waved his staff with shaking hands, the shattered remnants of Runaan’s Baphomet helmet began to hover in the air.
A pulsing black tether formed, connecting the helmet on Syria Sullion’s head to the broken pieces and Runaan herself.
"What is this..."
Runaan scowled at the dark cord linking her to Syria Sullion. She lashed out with her blade, but the silver steel passed through the black line as if it were smoke.
"A one-in-a-million chance. No, even rarer. I considered the possibility that you might break free."
Syria Sullion nodded grimly at the tether.
"So I prepared a failsafe. Even if your mind escapes me, your power belongs to me!"
He bared his teeth in a grin just as a dark orb erupted from the broken helmet pieces.
The sphere spun violently, acting like a vacuum that began to rip the combat spirit, internal energy, and very essence out of Runaan, funneling it directly into Syria Sullion.
"Ughhhhk!"
Runaan tried to plant her feet and resist, but the gravitational pull of the dark sphere was more than any human body could withstand.
"The moment you put that helmet on, every part of you became my property."
Syria Sullion’s breathing became heavy and rhythmic as he gorged himself on Runaan’s stolen power.
"Runaan! I will have you, even if I have to strip you bare! Only I am fit to contain you!"
He threw his arms wide, his entire being radiating the stolen aura and fighting spirit.
The air around Syria Sullion began to warp and buckle, and the sky itself seemed to fracture.
Just by releasing this stolen energy, he had clearly transcended his former limits, reaching a state of pure transcendence fueled by Runaan’s essence.
"Haaa..."
In stark contrast, Runaan was drenched in cold sweat, her hands shaking as if she had been hollowed out.
"Runaan. Come here."
Syria Sullion offered a hand toward her.
"Victory is impossible for you now."
He smirked, remarking that a sister could never hope to overcome her brother.
"If you submit now, I’ll show mercy to your friends. I’ll let you keep them like pets."
He dismissed Burren and Martha with a wave of his hand, treating them like lowly animals.
"In the past... I might have surrendered to those words. I would have let my fear of you consume me... But..."
Runaan forced her shaking legs to straighten.
"Not today."
She shook her head, her resolve firm.
"You have nothing left. Your energy is spent. Your body is failing, and the spirit you gained from the helmet has been reclaimed by me."
Syria Sullion tilted his head arrogantly, inviting her to look at the reality of the situation.
"I, however, have ascended far beyond Transcendence by taking what was yours! Challenging me now is like a dry leaf trying to stop a forest fire!"
He looked down on her, convinced of his absolute superiority.
"There are people who fight even when they know the odds are zero."
She thought of Burren, who had nearly died to protect her; Martha, who had traversed the dream world to save her soul. And Raon and the Zieghart clan, who had always been her foundation.
Their faces flashed before her eyes, and she knew she couldn't allow herself to be broken.
"Fine. Then I'll drag you back by force!"
Syria Sullion’s patience snapped. He hoisted his great sword, and an aura of pure destruction—enough to level the region—poured from the steel.
"Don't worry. It'll be painful, but I'll stitch your skin back together once I've broken you!"
He wore a ghoulish smile, ready to shatter her to claim her.
"Explosive Star Void Sword!"
He unleashed a catastrophic strike, intending to wipe out Runaan, Burren, and Martha in a single blow.
"Haaaa..."
Runaan exhaled a frosty breath as she watched the meteor-like strike descend.
'I'm not afraid...'
Even though he had stolen her energy, her clarity of mind remained.
As she focused inward, the world slowed to a crawl and the colors bled away. This was the state of transcendence Raon had described.
Even as a weapon capable of obliterating her existence fell from the sky, she felt a strange peace.
She had been given so much by her friends; even if her energy was gone and her spirit was drained, her heart was overflowing.
'I will... protect them all...'
Runaan gripped her sword with her trembling fingers, fueled by the memory of everyone who had supported her.
In that instant, the shadow Syria Sullion had cast over her soul dissolved, replaced by a warmth that could light up the entire world.
The shackles on her soul shattered, and the path to a higher realm opened up before her.
Runaan felt herself and her blade merge into a single entity, ascending a path built not by force, but by the bonds she shared with her comrades.
She raised her sword, which now glowed with the pure white of a fresh snowfall.
She stood tall, adopting the stance of a loyal protector, and spoke with pride.
"Sword Domain... Eternity."
