[Realm: Álfheimr]

[Location: The Deathless Fortress]

The quake had struck without warning.

It didn't rumble in gradually like distant thunder—it hit, a single violent jolt that rattled the fortress halls as if something massive had slammed into them. The stone floor lurched under Gretchen's boots hard enough to send dust falling from the half-collapsed ceiling. Window frames groaned, their fractured panes splintering further as hairline cracks stretched across them.

The impact shuddered up Gretchen's legs and punched through her ribs, but she held her ground with a stabilizing breath. Her stance widened instinctively, boots grinding against loose rubble. A small frown creased her face.

"This isn't the Deseruit Beasts," she muttered, more to herself than anyone else.

She had seen enough of those things to know their signatures—their tremors were violent but sporadic, the kind caused by massive bodies dragging themselves across terrain or thrashing after taking damage. But this was much more severe.

Tamamo-no-Mae, still perched lazily on Gretchen's shoulder, didn't even flinch. The tiny fox spirit casually groomed her paw, the quake rolling through the hall as though it existed purely for Gretchen's inconvenience.

"Must be nice," Gretchen murmured dryly toward the fox. She didn't get a chance to linger on the thought. The quake dwindled, leaving behind an uneasy feeling that pressed against her senses.

When the dust settled, the hallway revealed itself again.

The fortress interior—normally symmetrical at least—looked like it had been struck by an explosion. Window glass lay in heaps across the floor. Burn marks streaked along the stone walls as if fire had clawed its way through moments earlier. Long cracks spiderwebbed beneath their feet, some still alight with residual heat. Sections of the ceiling sagged inward, littering the ground with broken stone.

And none of it had been caused by the Deseruit Beasts.

Because the one responsible stood calmly ahead of her, as if the destruction were a minor inconvenience.

Koschei.

The owner of the Deathless Fortress stood with his back partially turned, black robes draping over his thin frame. His eerie black eyes, each centered by a violet pupil, stared through a shattered window at the distant horizon. He did not look at her at first—not out of ignorance, but because whatever he saw outside had surprised even him.

He masked it well, but Gretchen caught the subtle tension—a controlled inhale, a narrowing of those unnatural eyes. Koschei did not seem the type to be often surprised. That alone meant something.

When he finally turned, he looked much the same as when she first encountered him. Same tattered black garments, same unnatural presence—except now he carried a tall black staff. The wood was dark and warped, twisted unnaturally along its length until it curled into a branching claw-like head that clasped a large, pulsing violet gem.

"Seems," Koschei murmured, voice soft but amused, "the Mother of Monsters wasn't the only monster stirring today."

His gaze slid to Gretchen with that same leering interest he had displayed earlier, the kind that made her muscles tighten in irritation.

She exhaled sharply through her nose and refused to entertain it.

Instead, she turned her head slightly toward Tamamo perched on her shoulder. "Mother of Monsters… Echidna, right?"

Tamamo flicked an ear and nodded. "You've certainly done your homework. Yes, that would be Echidna. I am… admittedly surprised she's fully manifested in this realm." Her tone grew quieter. "And more surprised the Divine Principles have yet to intervene. Strange."

She said the last part under her breath, her tails swishing thoughtfully—though she kept her true concern hidden behind a smile.

Gretchen's brows knitted. "Then that quake… someone's fighting her? Would it be—"

Tamamo's grin cut her off.

"That's right. Dear Dante is battling her."

The words hit Gretchen harder than the quake had.

Her jaw tensed. "I understand he's blessed by a God, but…" Her eyes drifted toward the nearest shattered window. She didn't have to extend her senses far—not with a presence that massive pouring into the world like a flooding dam.

Far beyond the fortress walls, the horizon was awash in a sea of emerald light. It rippled outward in thick waves, each brighter and heavier than the last, saturating the land and sky with overwhelming density. Even at this distance, Gretchen felt her chest tighten beneath its pressure.

The mana was vast and smothering. And it was nothing she, nor Koschei, nor any human could hope to contain.

That was Echidna.

("Could a human even go up against something like that?") she thought, her throat tightening. It felt absurd to even question it. Humans didn't fight things like that. They ran. They hid. They survived.

Yet Dante was—

Her thought was interrupted by a sudden flash in her peripheral vision.

Gretchen reacted instantly.

She shifted one step to the side, boots scraping sharply against stone as an orb of condensed flame ripped past her face. The heat blistered the air, burning so close to her skin she felt the hairs on her arm rise. The fireball whistled down the corridor and exploded against the far wall.

Her eyes snapped to Koschei.

He stood exactly where he had been, one hand extended, a pleasant grin curling at his lips.

"You wound me, dear girl," he said lightly, lowering his arm. "Ignoring me for so long… very rude. And quite foolish." His grin widened just slightly. "Taking your eyes off me like that is a lovely way to die."

"Oh, he's right," Tamamo chimed in cheerfully. "This is no time to be daydreaming~"

Gretchen shot her an annoyed glare. The fox yawned.

She turned back to Koschei, expression sharpening. "You really think you're worth that much?" she spat. "That look you gave me earlier is still pissing me off. So go ahead—try me. I'll enjoy this."

Koschei's grin stretched into something hungry.

"Oh, I do so adore the feisty ones," he purred. His eyes dragged down her figure in a slow, probing sweep—lingering where they shouldn't, making her stomach twist with disgust. "Your kind break so beautifully. I was hoping to find that little Nil, but… hah." His eyes glimmered. "I think I may enjoy this even more."

"Gods," Gretchen muttered under her breath, lip curling. "You're actually revolting."

"Now, now, Gretchen," Tamamo chided, tapping her paw against Gretchen's shoulder as if calming a child. "Anger clouds judgment. And this will be a fight to the death against a powerful sorcerer. You'll need a sound mind, yes?"

"I don't need instructions," Gretchen muttered. Her fingers curled, her mana sharpening around her. "I'll win," she said simply. "And I'll tear that bastard apart."

Tamamo's tails flicked. Her eyes narrowed—not at Koschei, but at Gretchen.

("Hm,") she thought silently. ("She's unusually agitated… oh. I see.")

She didn't say it out loud, but she didn't need to.

Koschei's grin widened the moment Gretchen faced him—an expression too stretched, too self-satisfied to ever look human.

"My, my… dear girl," he purred, voice dripping with a poisonous sweetness. "You seem positively livid."

The mockery slid over her like oil.

"Just shut up," Gretchen snapped, her patience fracturing cleanly. She struck her heel against the cracked stone—almost dismissively—and yet the effect was immediate and violent.

A tremor rippled outward beneath her, the floor swelling and rolling underfoot like a rising tide. Stone that had sat unmoving suddenly behaved like fluid, lifting and shifting, bending to her will. The warped surface shuddered—and then it warped sharply upward.

In an instant, the solid floor transmuted into earthen spikes, forming in a blur and launching through the air with absurd speed—sharp and precise—shooting straight for Koschei.

His eyes widened by a fraction.

"Oh?"

It was the sound of surprise—but not fear. Koschei's reaction was almost leisurely, intrigue replacing alarm. A transparent violet barrier blossomed in front of him with nothing more than a thought—so cleanly conjured it was almost elegant.

The spikes slammed into it with a crackle that echoed through the broken hall. The impact was forceful enough to rattle the sagging beams overhead, sending loose rubble tumbling from above. The barrier strained but held firm, glowing fiercely as it resisted her attack.

Koschei watched it all with fascination.

"I see now…" His lips curled higher, delighted. "I knew that mana was far too refined for some ordinary sorcerer."

Gretchen didn't even blink. Her expression never flickered, even as the spikes halted, their momentum abruptly cut. They crumbled apart, turning to dust in seconds, the fine particles falling soundlessly to the ground.

Koschei burst into a laugh—unpleasant and grating—a sound that made even the dust seem to recoil.

"Hah! Hah—hahah!" His shoulders shook, his grin stretching wider than comfort allowed. His gaze glinted with something manic and hungry. "I never thought I'd see it again. Transmutation." He tilted his head as though marveling at a rare artifact. "I thought you would merely serve as some much needed stress relief…" His tongue slid across his lips as he looked her over again. "…but to think you were an alchemist."

Tamamo-no-Mae, perched casually on Gretchen's shoulder, gave a soft, amused snicker.

"Oh, I think you have an admirer, Gretchen."

Gretchen ignored the comment, though her jaw tightened faintly.

"Make sure you savor this, then," she said coldly. "You won't be seeing it again."

"Oh, I disagree." Koschei's grin became sharp, almost predatory. "You've just become a far more important priority than that Nil brat." He tapped his staff lightly, eyes glittering with memory or irritation. "Alchemy was always something I… struggled with. But of course"—he shrugged, as if it were obvious—"that's because it isn't truly a branch of magic."

Gretchen's brow knit, a subtle but sharp expression of disbelief.

"What are you talking about? Alchemy is a branch of magic."

Koschei chuckled—amused and condescending.

"On the contrary, dear girl. Alchemy functions differently from the branches of magic." His grin deepened. "Which makes you all the more fascinating. You're merely using mana as fuel for transmutation instead of performing true equivalent exchange. Not impressive, no—" he lifted a finger, wagging it mockingly, "—but the fact that you use so little mana? That is impressive. Very. You'll make a fine specimen."

Gretchen's eyes narrowed, her thoughts shifting rapidly beneath her calm exterior.

("Hm. My teacher always described alchemy as just another branch of magic… but I suppose I've only ever used mana to fuel transmutation. But it's also on the first tree. I could probably do it without mana—though why bother? It'd be inefficient.")

Tamamo hummed thoughtfully on her shoulder.

"Oh, the old man is quite knowledgeable," the golden fox murmured. "You'll have to think outside the box here, Gretchen. He's undoubtedly familiar with alchemy. Basic transmutation won't be enough."

Tamamo's gaze lifted—not at Koschei himself, but above him. Something only she could see.

("Hm… and that…")

A thin, translucent black thread extended from above Koschei's head, stretching upward, far beyond the confines of the fortress—toward something distant.

Gretchen did not turn to look. She kept her glare fixed on him. "I won't let my guard down. Even if this filth disgusts me." She flexed her pale fingers, grounding herself. ("With the amount of mana he has, dragging this out would be stupid. And who knows what spells he's collected over his lifetime. No. I need a direct kill. I'll have to transmute him into matter—fast.")

She lifted her hand to her mouth.

Koschei's grin twitched with anticipation.

Gretchen pressed her thumb against her teeth, sinking her tooth into the soft flesh until it broke the skin. A bead of red welled—then another. Then the blood began to flow, far more than any wound that small should have produced.

Koschei's brows lowered, puzzled for the first time. "Oh? So you'll make the first move?"

He raised his staff, now fully alert.

Gretchen said nothing. She simply lowered her bloody thumb to the ruined floor.

A single drop fell.

Then another.

Then the blood surged—an unnatural, steady flow that spilled outward like a small waterfall, forming a spreading pool beneath her.

Koschei's expression finally shifted from intrigue to genuine attention.

Gretchen didn't give him time to consider it.

She stepped back, pressing her foot into the blood. Her movement was light, almost graceful—a spin, a turn of her heel—trailing the blood in a perfect circular path. Even in the fractured corridor, even on uneven stone, the line formed flawlessly.

A perfect circle.

"A pentagram?" Koschei barked, raising his staff sharply. "As if I'd let you finish that!"

His mana surged—heavy and malicious. A massive black glyph spiraled into existence in front of him, its runes twisting.

"I call upon an ancient fire," Koschei roared, staff trembling as raw mana poured through it.

"A fire to burn my enemies—

a fire to protect—

and a fire to destroy!"

The glyph snapped open.

From its center erupted a wave of black fire—pure, corrosive heat that devoured everything it touched. The air screamed as it tore forward, warping from the intensity. Decorative pillars melted into slag. The hallway itself began to blister and sag under the heat.

But Gretchen had already finished.

The circle was complete. The blood at her feet glowed faintly. The symbols she had drawn with it swirled, shifting around a star at the center, rotating and aligning.

The pentagram pulsed—once—twice—with a pale bluish-white radiance.

Gretchen looked up at Koschei, expression flat.

"Pentagrams are such a bother to draw," she said calmly. "So die here. I can't be bothered dealing with you longer."

The flames barreled toward her, the heat enough to boil the moisture from the air but Gretchen didn't flinch.

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