The silence after Theodric's agonized confession stretched, thick with the scent of blood, ozone, and despair. Donarstraza knelt beside the paralyzed knight, her mind racing faster than Karnazul's pained wheezes. One down. Two to go. The system timer pulsed like a dying star: [46 Hours 12 Minutes Remaining]. She needed the how of his prediction and his assessment of the Realms' strength. Without them, the quest failed, and the Charisma "???" loomed like a guillotine.
"Prediction, Theodric," she pressed, her voice low and insistent, cutting through Karnazul's labored breaths. "You claimed your desire to protect her let you foresee my return. How? Was it magic? Prophecy? Spies within my own crumbling walls?" She leaned closer, golden eyes locked onto his profile as he stubbornly stared at the cavern ceiling, the raw vulnerability from his Evelina-fueled outburst hardening back into stoic defiance. "Your assessment of the Realms' strength – what did you see that made you think appeasement was your only option? Tell me!"
Nothing. His jaw was set, the line of it sharp and unyielding. The wall was back, higher and thicker than before. He'd sacrificed a painful truth to protect his Princess; he wouldn't give her the weapons to potentially harm Aethelgard further. Frustration coiled like a serpent in Donarstraza's gut. Threats against Evelina had worked once, but wielding it again felt cheap, dangerous. Karnazul groaned, a wet, rattling sound. Focus!
She shifted tactics, Primal Seduction humming softly, a subtle pressure in the air. "Knowledge for mercy, Dragon Knight. Tell me these things, and I swear on the Void itself, Aethelgard will remain untouched by my hand. Your sacrifice will have meaning." It was a gamble, a desperate lie wrapped in divine authority. She saw his yellow eyes flicker towards her, suspicion warring with a sliver of… something. Hope? Calculation?
He remained silent for a long moment, the only sounds Karnazul's suffering and the distant rumble of the demon continent. Then, a sigh escaped Theodric's lips, not of defeat, but of… resignation mixed with grim determination. His voice, when it came, was calm, almost conversational, yet it carried an undercurrent of immense power held barely in check.
"I was instructed," he said, his gaze still fixed upwards, "to exercise restraint. To observe, to parley, to offer terms. Not to reveal the full extent of Aethelgard's reach… or mine." A faint, almost imperceptible golden light began to shimmer around his paralyzed form, like dust motes catching an unseen sun. "But it seems…" he continued, the golden light intensifying, forming intricate, glowing sigils on his skin beneath his armor, "…my current predicament rather evokes the need for a… different approach."
Donarstraza stared, confusion warring with a sudden, icy dread. "What are you—?"
"Seal Release."
The words weren't shouted. They were spoken with quiet, absolute authority. But the effect was cataclysmic.
A sun detonated within the Void Arena.
Blinding, pure golden light erupted from Theodric, engulfing him, washing over Donarstraza like a physical wave, searing her vision even through her demonic eyes. It wasn't heat, but raw, purifying power, a pressure that shoved her back onto her heels. The obsidian beneath Theodric cracked and spiderwebbed. The floating witch-fire orbs flickered and died.
[CRITICAL ALERT!]
[Massive Energy Surge Detected!]
[Source: Theodric - Threat Level: CATASTROPHIC]
[Umbral Offer Binding: OVERRIDDEN!]
[WARNING: EXTREME HOSTILE INTENT!]
The system warnings screamed in Donarstraza's mind, crimson and flashing. Before she could process them, before she could even blink the blinding afterimage from her eyes, the light condensed.
Where Theodric had lain paralyzed, a figure now stood. Not just stood – loomed. The golden aura pulsed around him like a miniature star, his yellow eyes blazing with incandescent fury, no longer defiant but predatory. The sealed stump of his left wrist was now encased in solidified golden light, forming a shimmering, claw-like gauntlet. He radiated power that dwarfed anything she'd felt from Karnazul, even at his peak. It was ancient, righteous, and terrifying.
His blazing yellow eyes locked onto her. Donarstraza felt a primal terror, Elina's raw panic surging past the Goddess persona. She instinctively summoned power, golden lightning crackling around her own hands.
Theodric moved.
He didn't run. He blurred. A streak of golden light crossed the distance between them faster than thought. His target wasn't her. Not yet.
He passed over the still-pinned Karnazul. As he did, his golden-gauntleted hand lashed out. Not a punch. A savage, contemptuous swipe.
SCHRKK!
THUD!
The sound was horrific – tearing flesh, snapping bone. Karnazul's agonized scream ripped through the cavern, cut horrifically short. Theodric hadn't aimed to kill. He'd aimed at the arm pinned beneath the Lord of the East's invisible weight. The golden gauntlet sheared through demon flesh, bone, and soul-forged iron manacle like they were parchment. Karnazul's severed forearm, still trapped by the sword's weight, remained on the ground. The rest of Karnazul, suddenly freed from the pinning force but horrifically maimed, was flung aside by the sheer speed of Theodric's passage, crashing into the arena wall with a sickening crunch, unconscious or dead.
Theodric didn't pause. The golden blur changed trajectory, zeroing in on Donarstraza. The raw, annihilating intent radiating from him was a physical force. He closed the final meters, the golden gauntlet pulled back, ready to unleash a blow that felt capable of shattering mountains.
Donarstraza screamed, pure terror overriding thought. She threw her hands up, lightning gathering in a desperate, instinctive shield. It wouldn't be enough. She knew it.
WHUMPH!
The blow never landed.
A figure, ash-grey and broken, slammed into the space between Donarstraza and the golden fury. Karnazul. Somehow, impossibly, through shock, blood loss, and the agony of a severed limb, he'd thrown himself in the path of destruction. Theodric's golden fist, meant for Donarstraza, slammed into Karnazul's chest with the force of a meteor.
CRACK!
The sound of ribs shattering was deafening. Karnazul was lifted off his feet, blood erupting from his mouth. But he didn't fly away. He absorbed the blow, his body bending around the fist, his remaining hand instinctively latching onto Theodric's golden wrist.
And then, the impossible happened. Where Karnazul's severed forearm stump pressed against Theodric's radiant gauntlet, dark fire erupted. Not his usual orange, not the sacrificial black, but a deep, volcanic crimson, laced with crackling obsidian energy. It wasn't an attack. It was regeneration. Flesh, bone, sinew, and dark metal sprouted from the stump with terrifying speed, flowing over Theodric's golden gauntlet, trying to encase it, fueled by Karnazul's desperate, dying will and the raw power of his oath. The new hand, forming even as his body was being pulverized, gripped Theodric's wrist with shocking strength.
Theodric, the embodiment of golden wrath, stumbled back a half-step, genuine shock flashing across his blazing features. His attack was halted, his momentum broken by Karnazul's suicidal interception and the grotesque, rapid regeneration happening right before his eyes. He looked down at the ash-grey demon clinging to him, broken but burning with furious, protective power, the crimson-black fire consuming his own body to forge new flesh.
A grim, almost respectful smirk touched Theodric's lips, visible even through the blinding aura. His voice, when it came, was a low rumble that vibrated through the stone, directed at the ruined demon sacrificing himself for his Goddess.
"So. You still have some fight in you, Ash Lord."