Chapter 145

Ethan launched himself at the basilisk's wrist and swung his sword.

The blade's target was the same wrist that had flashed gold the instant before the beast slammed the ground.

CRACK!

The basilisk must have sensed the approaching edge—spines erupted across the surface of its wrist.

Sharp protrusions bristled upward, blocking the blade's path and driving toward Ethan as if to skewer him whole.

SCRRRK!

But Ethan didn't slow down.

Instead of flinching at the oncoming spines, he cut through them and landed on the basilisk's wrist.

He locked both hands around the hilt and drove the blade downward with every ounce of strength he had.

KRA-CRACK!

The sound of rupturing armor rang out. Scales thick as plate mail shattered, exposing what lay beneath. The basilisk shrieked and dropped its hand to the ground.

THOOM!

The surface pitched and swayed beneath his feet, but Ethan shifted his weight and held his balance. His eyes, meanwhile, stayed locked on what had appeared through the broken scales.

A golden fluid flowing through the cracks.

Violet light flickered across its surface in fleeting glimpses, and the liquid pulsed as though it were breathing.

Like blood freshly pumped from a beating heart.

"……"

Ethan stared at the fluid. The pounding in his ears—he couldn't tell whether it was his own heartbeat or something bleeding from that golden glow—

"—Nice work. Step back for a second."

A voice from behind tugged his awareness back. Ethan whipped his head around, spotted Mikhail approaching, and moved aside.

Tap.

The moment Mikhail reached him, he crouched over the golden fluid and fixed his gaze on its flowing surface. Ethan watched him with a puzzled edge to his voice.

"Mikhail. What are you about to—"

The question hadn't even finished leaving his mouth. Mikhail narrowed his eyes, his lips moved as though tracing a silent calculation—then he plunged his hand into the fluid and released his mana.

CRACK!

Blue light flared, and the fluid boiled upward as if screaming.

What reacted next was the basilisk's outer shell.

The dark hide sealed itself over the breach as though trying to purge a foreign body—regenerating the damaged section on the spot.

Crk-crk-crk.

Black crystal proliferated. Shards like fragments of ice multiplied in an instant, filling every gap in the surface.

"Watch out—!"

Ethan shouted at Mikhail the moment the sight registered.

Mikhail yanked his hand free just before the opening sealed shut.

"……"

Nothing else went wrong. But the hand that emerged from beneath the golden surface was a wreck.

Swollen as though something had battered it, and scored with cuts from grazing sharp edges—blood beading along every line.

His face had gone a shade paler on top of it all. Ethan took in the damage and asked urgently.

"Are you okay? We need to treat—"

"No. There's no time for that. More importantly…"

Mikhail cut himself off—looking less pained than anxious. He scanned his surroundings, sparked mana at his fingertips to signal Salvator's formation, then seized Ethan's sleeve and spoke.

"Brace yourself. Keep your balance."

"?"

Ethan's brow twitched with confusion.

The basilisk let out a tortured scream and twisted its limbs, tilting its body at a steep angle.

"Whoa—!"

Ethan yelped in alarm. The sudden lurch nearly threw him off his feet, but he dropped low and barely held his footing.

THOOM!

The reptile's massive frame collapsed to the ground as though all its strength had drained away. The golden crystals studding its dark scales flickered like dying embers.

"Yes! Let's move, people!"

The moment the basilisk hit the floor, every fighter who'd been standing ready launched themselves forward.

From Lloyd at the vanguard to Albin holding the rear.

The weapons in their hands scattered mana-light like freshly honed blades catching the sun.

Tap.

Ethan touched down and watched the barrage of strikes rain in, then turned toward Mikhail.

Mikhail was watching the same scene—blades carving through the air dead ahead.

Then he quietly drew his swollen hand into a fist. The anxiety from moments ago had faded somewhat, and a slight curve touched the corner of his mouth.

"……"

Ethan studied him for a moment, then turned back toward the basilisk.

"Mikhail. I followed your lead, but what exactly is happening here?"

Mikhail paused briefly before answering.

"How to put it… In simple terms, I disrupted the basilisk's mana network and knocked it unconscious."

"…That's possible?"

"Normally, no. There's a lot to account for."

Ethan let a questioning sound trail off, pressing for more, but Mikhail just shrugged as if it were nothing and shouted toward the group.

"Everyone, fall back! Now!"

"Huh…? Already?"

The fighters faltered mid-swing but obeyed the order and pulled away. Mikhail watched them return to formation, then spoke to Ethan.

"Now that you've done it once, you can feel it—the tempo from here on is going to be way faster than before."

Ethan nodded. Mikhail left a beat of silence, then softened his tone.

"But keep moving the way you just did and there won't be a problem. Five more times. That's all I need from you, Ethan."

Grrrrrrr—

The instant Mikhail finished, the basilisk stirred back to consciousness and began to move.

Pressure surged again, clawing at their cheeks like wind turned to blades.

There was no room left for conversation. Ethan swallowed whatever he'd been about to add, gave a firm nod, and gripped his sword.

"Let's go. Toward the back. Same thing again."

Ethan followed Mikhail's lead and moved. But for one fleeting instant, his eyes drifted to the back of Mikhail's hand.

"……"

It had only been a brief moment, but the wounds ran deep.

Ethan lowered his gaze. Watching injuries pile up on someone who insisted on charging ahead alone sat anything but well with him.

---

KRA-CRACK!

That makes four now.

They'd repeated the cycle enough times for it to feel routine. Mikhail watched Ethan vault upward with practiced ease and shear the spines jutting from the basilisk's neck, then glanced down at his battered left hand.

I timed my interference for the lowest rebound—factored in the fluid's density, flow rate, even the amplitude. Didn't expect it to take this much out of me.

The throbbing wasn't limited to his left hand.

His whole body shivered as though gripped by fever, and a leaden exhaustion pressed down on his shoulders.

But none of that mattered now. He had no intention of squandering a decisive advantage.

Injuries like these, stamina issues—nothing that can't wait until this is over.

Mikhail exhaled as if shaking off the ache, channeled mana to his ankles, and leapt onto the basilisk's neck.

Ethan stood with his sword raised high, hacking into the armored hide.

CRACK! KRA-CRACK!

The impacts came loud and fast. Mikhail tilted his head, then moved to Ethan's side and spoke.

"Ethan, what's gotten into you? You've been like this for a while now. Something pissing you off?"

"No. It's not that, so… just give me a second."

Ethan carved away the jagged edge in a single clean stroke and stepped aside. Mikhail studied the gap—noticeably wider and smoother than the previous ones—then glanced at Ethan sideways.

"I had a feeling, but… this is about me, isn't it?"

"……"

Mikhail watched Ethan silently prepare for the next step, let a small laugh escape, and leaned down toward the pulsing fluid.

Whether it was the passage of time or something worse, the violet shimmer dancing across the golden liquid's surface had grown more vivid.

"……"

A bad feeling stirred in his chest. But Mikhail shook his head and dismissed the thought before it could take hold.

…No. It's still fine. Now isn't the time to worry about what-ifs—focus on what's right in front of me.

Mikhail fixed his gaze on the scene below. He tracked the gold's restless churning and the low hum radiating from it, counted the rhythm—then pushed his hand beneath the surface.

Splash.

His hand broke through. The instant it did, pain hit—crushing pressure and stabbing points all at once.

The golden fluid swarmed like piranhas that had found prey, slamming against his hand and gnawing at his mana-laced fingertips.

"Ngh…"

Mikhail choked back the groan before it could escape.

The moment the current pressing against his skin slowed, he released his mana.

FZZT!

An erratic vortex erupted beneath the surface. Mikhail felt the shift and ripped his hand free.

"*Cough *…"

Exhaustion slammed into his back like a physical weight. Mikhail was steadying his breathing through dry, hacking coughs when Ethan reached a hand toward him.

"Grab on. So you don't fall."

Mikhail extended a trembling hand toward Ethan—then caught sight of his own skin.

Repeated immersions had shredded it raw. But at least the cuts from the basilisk's scales hadn't multiplied.

"Thanks. For looking out."

Mikhail studied the back of his own hand, then tossed the words at Ethan with a trace of a smile.

"……"

Ethan said nothing. Mikhail scanned the surrounding situation before sending the attack signal to Salvator.

Everything looks the same as before, so I should be clear to signal—

Then, in a single instant, every drop of blood in his body turned to ice.

The basilisk's eyes—caught in a passing sweep of his vision.

They were different from before. Across the vertical black slits of its pupils, streaks of dark-violet light shimmered.

Grrrrr….

The reptile hadn't lost consciousness at all. Killing intent flickered across its corneas as it rolled its eyes toward the back of its own neck—toward them.

At the same time, a golden flash erupted beneath Mikhail's feet.

No—!

Something had gone wrong. Mikhail sensed the deviation the instant it registered, grabbed Ethan's hand, and wrenched his head toward the formation on the ledge.

"Defense line! Brace for an attack! Maximum strength!"

The Allied Knight Order and the rest of the defensive formation flinched at the sudden shout.

But duty overrode shock, and shields went up without delay.

Mikhail hauled Ethan by the arm and leapt off the basilisk's neck. The moment his feet hit the ground, he broke into a sprint.

"Mikhail, what are you—!"

"Just follow me! Don't ask!"

The instant they dove behind the constructed defense line, a massive mana sphere erupted from the basilisk's maw and slammed into the formation head-on.

"AAAAAAGH!"

The defense unit—led by the Allied Knight Order—was already battered from wave after wave of blocking.

They weathered the first sphere through sheer grit, but the shockwave that followed broke through. Fighters crumpled one by one and tumbled in every direction.

"Captain Tibeau! Everyone!"

"Are you okay?! Is everyone all right?!"

Cries of shock and alarm erupted across the field. Mikhail locked eyes with the basilisk's gaze boring down from directly above, then turned to the Salvator members at his flank just as he moved to break from the formation.

"Small mana spheres are about to rain down. Stay here and cut them down—protect the ones who fell."

"What? Then what about you two—!"

"The basilisk's targeting me and Ethan. We'll dodge whatever comes next on our own, so… hold this position. Please."

Mikhail delivered the order in a voice that left no room for argument, then looked at Ethan.

"Let's go. Two more times. Survive that, and our chance comes."

Ethan nodded. Mikhail bolted from the side of the formation and tore across the open stretch of ground.

GRRRRRR!

The basilisk roared and craned its neck high, spawning countless mana spheres around its body.

Each one the size of four or five clenched fists stacked together—an endless swarm of glowing orbs blossoming into existence.

Mikhail flicked his eyes back to confirm the sight, then called to Ethan running beside him.

"Let's get to open ground. Even if we deflect the spheres, we can't let the blast hit anyone else."

"Got it."

The moment he heard the answer, Mikhail fixed his eyes forward and ran. Thunderous impacts chased them like a cat on a mouse's tail, but he pressed on without looking back.

KA-BOOM! BOOM!

Mikhail reached a stretch of ground far from any other formation, planted his feet, and spun to face forward.

"Ethan, stop here!"

He gasped for air and thrust his hand toward the dozens of mana spheres coiled before them.

"I'll… take the left side. The right is—"

He was choking the words out between ragged breaths.

FZZZZT!

The basilisk's mana spheres—aimed squarely at the two of them—screamed in on blinding arcs.

Tch….

Mikhail sparked mana into his trembling fingertips, bracing to intercept—when Ethan stepped in front of him and swung his sword.

KA-BOOM!

The barrage of mana spheres shattered on contact with Ethan's blade, scattering into fragments that dissolved into nothing.

Mikhail's eyes flew wide. He stared at the scene in stunned silence, then slowly lowered the arm he'd thrust forward.

"……"

Ethan turned his head back. His gaze found Mikhail's ravaged hands—and a grin pulled at the corner of his mouth.

"Rest. I'll block every last one this time."