Alice stood between them, her wounded arm still bleeding, the makeshift cloth now soaked red.
But she still stood tall, sword of light humming uncertainly in her grip.
"Step away from her," Alice said, voice shaking—both from pain and fear—but her eyes, at least, stayed steady.
The man raised an eyebrow.
Then, without a word, he struck.
And the battle between the two began.
He lashed out with blazing kicks, each one landing with enough force to rattle nearby windows and knock loose bits of concrete.
Alice stumbled with each impact, parrying with her sword, its light flickering as it scraped against his limbs.
Her footwork was unsteady, more desperate shuffling than practiced movement. She was being forced back, quickly.
He didn't relent. Every strike was meant to end her.
Alice barely ducked under a spinning kick that cracked the pavement beneath her, staggering as she tried to regain balance.
With a cry, she swung back but, it was too wide, and too slow.
The arc of light seared a shallow line across the street, scorching the edge of a parked car and charring its paint, but little else.
Their fight zigzagged across the street.
BOOM!
A small fireball, more flash than fury, zipped past Alice and hit a store window. The glass shattered with a pop, and a shelf inside caught fire, smoke quickly curling upward.
Civilians screamed and scattered. A child tripped and hit the ground, wailing.
Alice raised a flickering shield of light—not a dome, just a shaky wall—to protect the child. It held, but only just.
The man saw the opening. He lunged and kicked her straight into a streetlight. Metal bent, sparks flew, and Alice collapsed in a heap, groaning.
Beatrice, barely conscious, reached toward her.
"Alice... run..."
But Alice stood again, trembling, her stance awkward, her blade raised high but slightly off-center.
From the distance, another muffled blast echoed. A vending machine near Richard was now belching smoke, its glass front cracked, fire sputtering weakly inside.
The city trembled, not from cataclysm—but from chaos.
And yet they fought on.
Because sometimes, surviving meant standing back up—even if your hands were shaking and your knees were weak. Even if death was just one mistake away.
***********
'Fuck.' Richard thought. 'This is getting worse by the second. Even with Alice joining in, nothing's changed.'
BOOM
The street shook.
Screams echoed.
And Alice... she was still fighting. She's barely keeping up, but she's not backing down.
And yet all he can do is sit here, eyes shut, trying to finish this stupid core while a girl who's clearly too weak and inexperienced risks everything to buy him time.
The warmth of her mana and the mana in the atmosphere continued to pulse through him like a heartbeat.
'Come on Alice. Beatrice. Hang in there. In just a little while, I'll awaken.'
Suddenly–
THUMP.
A deep boom resounded within his chest. His eyes shot open–but not to the world outside.
Instead, he found himself suspended in a vast, pitch-black void.
His body floated, weightless, surrounded by nothing but darkness. There was no ground, no sky. Just a quiet, endless expanse of black.
"What the hell...?"
A flicker of blue light pulsed before him. It expanded, spiraling and shifting until it formed a transparent interface–a floating screen of glowing runes and digital lines, softly humming with light.
Rectangular boxes hovered around it, displaying unknown symbols that quickly translated into a language he could understand.
[Initializing...]
[Core formation: Complete.]
[Mana Synchronization: Stable.]
[User Identification: Confirmed.]
Click. Click. Whrrr.
The mechanical tones of data streams echoed through the air, as if gears were turning and coding itself was being written all around him.
Then came a soft, feminine voice–mechanical but strangely graceful.
[Welcome back, Sir.]
Richard blinked in confusion. "What... is this?"
Another screen shimmered to life in front of him, larger than the rest. A glowing line drew itself across it like an artist sketching with light.
>SYSTEM INTERFACE ONLINE.
"System interface?" Richard muttered, eyes narrowing. "What do you want from me?"
The glowing screen pulsed as if responding to his emotion.
[I am System. A fragment of your power.]
"...My power? He echoed. "I don't remember creating anything like you. What are you talking about?"
[I am a remnant. A shard of your true self. The power of the First Demon King, Deivaros Veirs Crimson. You.]
Richard's expression shifted, his brows creasing in disbelief. "...You're saying I made you? I never had a 'system' a thousand years ago. Never studied that kind of magic."
[No, you did not create me. Not directly. But a thousand years ago, when the Sage's spell struck you, and your reincarnation magic began activating, something went wrong.]
It paused for a moment, then continued.
[The Sage's magic interfered with your spell. The result... was fragmentation. Your power was torn apart, split into ten fragments and scattered across the world.]
The interface shifted again, showing an outline of the world. Ten glowing lights blinked across it like stars.
[I am the conciousness formed from one of those fragments.]
Richard clenched his fists. "That... wasn't in the history books. Nothing about the fragmentation of my power."
Then as if something clicked in place, he sighed. "Haaa. Of course. It was the humans. They hid that part of history huh."
[That is also why you reincarnated with none of your original power. And more importantly...]
There was a pause.
[Why the body you now inhabit has or rather had a soul.]
Richard's breath caught in his throat.
"What?"
[The vessel you created a thousand years ago which was meant to be empty, a shell. Well, over the long passage of time, it changed. Somehow... a soul was born inside it.]
"No... no." He said, disbelief in his tone. "That's impossible. It's a vessel. A freaking vessel! How the hell does a mere vessel have a soul!"
[A thousand years is a long time, Deivaros. Even vessels evolve. Even magic can be altered by time and environment. That soul, Richard's soul, was human. It lived a short but full life before your awakening. And now... your soul and his are fused irregularly. Incompletely.]
Richard sighed. "So that's why I feel... this concern–for Alice... for Beatrice..."
[Yes. That empathy. That hesitation to abandon them. That strange need to protect them–it's not you, it's him. The original Richard. The remnants of his soul pulling at your thoughts, your instincts. You are not fully yourself, because you are not fully separate.]
The interface then shifted again.
[And to regain even a fragment of your original power... the memories of you and the original Richard must be merged completely.]
Richard fell silent.
The screams. The explosions. The image of Alice still holding her sword, trembling but standing between death and a child.
Between her and her friend. Beatrice, who was barely breathing.
He knew. If he had even a fragment of his original power... one tenth of his original power and he could end this chaos in seconds.
But he still had to consider the risks.
If he merged... would he lose himself? Or would he become something... other?
Or perhaps... he would become complete.
"...What would happen to me if I merged?" He asked.
[You would remember all your present vessel's memories. You will become the complete being of Deivaros and Richard, as one. And your original personna, Deivaros Veirs Crimson would be dominant.]
He stared at the interface.
The glow of it pulsed again.
[Do you accept memory integration?]
Richard closed his eyes for a long moment.
And then–
"...Begin merging."
[Command confirmed. Beginning merge...]
SHHHHRRRRRRKKKKK.
The world around him twisted.
Light erupted. Shadows swirled.
And then–darkness.
Total. Consuming. Silent.
Until all that remained was the sound of a single, echoing word–
>Merging...