'A Syntony with Fire? No, impossible!'
Mirac had heard Alvern's words and had seen with his own eyes that fiery arc hurtling toward Felisia, but something didn't add up…
'Demonic creatures cannot achieve Syntony with any of the Seven Sacred Elements! So how did that Rogthar unleash an attack like that?'
The information on Rogthars recorded in the Seven Gospels was scarce and fragmented, and Mirac had always taken for granted that at least those details were accurate.
Yet, the inconsistency that had just materialized before his eyes deeply cracked that conviction…
'Is it really possible… that the Seven Sacred Gospels have always been wrong about this?'
The thought cut through his mind like a crack spreading through marble.
Immediately afterward, however, he shook his head sharply.
'No, there must be a logical explanation for all this!'
And so, the masked boy's mind immediately went to work, sifting through every piece of knowledge he possessed about Rogthars in search of a plausible answer.
Meanwhile, Alvern didn't waste any more time in thought.
With a low growl, he lunged forward, gripping his double-headed axe tightly with both hands. His body shot forward like an arrow loosed from a bow, covering the distance to the horned Rogthar in the blink of an eye.
The monster opened its jaws in a twisted grin and responded instantly.
It raised its massive sword, the blade heating up and glowing a vivid orange, then traced two rapid horizontal arcs through the air. Four flaming crescents—identical to the one that had nearly blinded Felisia—shot out in quick succession toward Alvern at terrifying speed.
Alvern dodged the first with a twist of his torso, the second by dropping low until he nearly brushed the ground, and the third by leaping sideways with a mid-air roll.
As for the fourth, he didn't even need to dodge it…
Morwen burst in like a war chariot, crashing in from the side of the fiery arc's path.
With a powerful roar, the tattooed woman spun her war hammer rapidly.
The head of the weapon, wreathed in the flames of her own Syntony with Fire, smashed into the fiery arc mid-air.
"Out of the way!" Morwen shouted, intercepting the attack and deflecting it sideways. She hurled it far away until it shattered against the wall, exploding into a shower of sparks and molten rock shards.
Being in Syntony with Fire, the tattooed woman could deflect and repel the horned Rogthar's fiery attacks without much trouble.
"Captain, stay behind me!" Morwen exclaimed, her face set in a fierce grin.
Alvern nodded silently.
For fighters of their caliber, no more words were needed.
Without hesitation, they charged forward in unison, moving like a single war machine.
The horned Rogthar refused to be intimidated and launched more fiery arcs, but this time things were different.
Morwen advanced at the front like a living shield, sweeping away any incoming flames with her hammer, while Alvern followed closely behind her, double-headed axe ready to strike the moment an opening appeared.
Meanwhile, after slaying numerous Rogthars, Mirac had crouched behind a mountain of corpses, using the massive bodies as makeshift cover.
He wasn't hiding out of fear.
His goal was to observe the horned monster in action with meticulous care.
Only this way—maintaining a safe distance and a clear line of sight—could he unravel the mystery of those fiery attacks that defied all known logic.
Channeling Mana into his eyes as Great Knight Leonard had taught him, Mirac activated his Magical Perception.
Thanks to this, he was able to carefully analyze all the flows of Magical Energy within the horned Rogthar's body, its movements, and its fiery attacks.
Combining these observations with the revelations from his mathematical powers—especially "Instant Knowledge of Temperature"—Mirac finally unraveled the mystery:
'I knew it!' he thought, his green eyes shining beneath the mask. 'That horned Rogthar is not in Syntony with Fire! The flames of its fiery arcs maintain a fixed temperature throughout the entire attack, right until they crash into a target and extinguish. I already observed the same behavior yesterday at the "Dragon's Jaw" workshop. The forge Thomas was working at produced flames that burned at a constant temperature of 1500 °C—most likely thanks to an Elemental Artifact powered by the Mana Crystals embedded in the structure. Applying the same logic, I'm certain that the flames of the horned Rogthar's attacks are not generated by the creature itself, but by something else… Most likely, by its weapon!'
Mirac's gaze slowly settled on the demonic creature's sword.
There were no visible runic engravings on the blade, which was why no one had paid it any attention, assuming the fiery attacks were the creature's own power.
Yet, under Magical Perception, the sword emitted a faint but constant aura: a flow of Corrupted Mana trapped inside the blade like an animal in a cage.
'That sword must be a high-quality Artifact! It doesn't matter right now how it ended up in that Rogthar's hands… The priority is to warn the others about this discovery! Under normal circumstances, I would do it immediately… but it's clear by now that this horned Rogthar possesses a certain level of intellect. If I tried to warn the others, it would notice right away—just like when I revealed their weakness—and I'm certain it would flee on the spot… But we can't allow it to escape with that weapon! No, it's too dangerous!'
Mirac tightened his grip around the hilt of his sword.
His heart pounded, but his mind remained cold and calculating.
'I'll let it believe for a little while longer that it holds the advantage with that sword… And when it least expects it, I'll sneak closer and rip it from its grasp! At that point, it will be far easier to bring it down.'
With this plan in mind, Mirac remained crouched behind the mountain of Rogthar corpses, waiting for the perfect moment to act.
Meanwhile, Morwen and Alvern continued their inexorable advance, carving their way through the other Rogthars that hurled themselves at them in a desperate attempt to stop the pair.
As if that weren't enough, the horned monster kept hurling fiery arcs at the two humans, but Morwen repelled them one after another with her war hammer, like baseballs swatted out of the air by a bat.
There wasn't the slightest hesitation in her movements. Seeing this, the horned Rogthar paused its offensive for a moment.
After a brief reflection, it realized its fiery arcs were no longer effective—at least not while that woman stood in the way…
So, instead of targeting the two humans directly, it raised its sword above its head and traced a single, sweeping horizontal slash.
From the blade erupted a streak of pure, scorching fire that shot upward at high speed and slammed into the ceiling of the Rail Hall.
For an instant, nothing happened.
Then, with a terrifying boom, a vast portion of the ceiling cracked.
CRRRAAACCKKK!
Huge boulders, stalactites, and rock debris rained down like a deadly shower, right above Alvern and Morwen's heads.
"Shit!" they cursed.
The two were forced to halt their advance to avoid being buried under the rubble.
They jumped, rolled, and dodged as boulders crashed onto the rails with deafening thuds.
The Rail Hall trembled from the impact.
A thick curtain of dust and debris rose instantly, obscuring most of the view for several seconds.
From the center of that cloud, the horned Rogthar let out a triumphant roar:
"ROOOAAARGH!"
Almost in response to its call, a group of Rogthars still on their feet—probably those that had received direct orders from their leader—burst out of the dust, charging straight at Alvern and Morwen with axes and swords raised.
The two humans had no choice. They found themselves back-to-back, forced to retreat step by step as they parried and counterattacked, struggling not to be overwhelmed by the sudden assault.
Morwen's hammer shattered bones and chitinous shields with every swing, while Alvern's double-headed axe danced between exposed throats and tendons. Yet the regenerating monsters kept pressing forward, forcing the pair to yield ground inch by inch.
Mirac didn't hesitate for even a second. This was exactly the opportunity he had been waiting for!
'NOW!'
In the blink of an eye, he poured every drop of Mana at his disposal into his legs. A burning heat exploded through his muscles, turning every fiber into a steel spring ready to snap.
Without making a sound, he broke away from the mountain of corpses and sprinted forward, plunging into the dense cloud of dust and debris still hanging in the Rail Hall, hidden from view.
To make sure he wouldn't be detected, he took a wide detour, hugging the walls and slipping silently between corpses and rubble with quick, noiseless steps.
Then, a sudden gust of wind swept through the hall, clearing the cloud of dust in an instant.
Mirac didn't need to see it to know it was Seren's doing.
She was probably trying to help Alvern and Morwen, unaware that he was concealed within that very curtain.
Fortunately, Mirac had already nearly reached the horned Rogthar's back when the dust fully dissipated. At that moment, the rest of the team spotted him: a masked figure slipping behind the enemy, ready to strike.
After zigzagging between obstacles, he found himself directly behind the horned Rogthar.
In that instant, Mirac stopped for a fraction of a second.
He channeled even more Mana into his legs—pushing to the limit, until he almost felt pain—then compressed himself like a spring stretched to its breaking point.
And then he sprang forward.
His steps were as silent as Carmen's, his sword already gripped tightly in his hand.
But right at that moment, the horned Rogthar spun around sharply.
Its orange eyes flared with savage fury the instant they met the gaze of the masked boy.
After the sneak attack it had suffered from Felisia, the creature had learned that humans liked to take advantage of chaotic moments like this to strike from behind.
That was why it had already turned preemptively, determined not to be caught off guard by another insolent human.
Yet Mirac reached it with such blinding speed that the precaution proved almost useless.
Now upon the monster, the masked boy abruptly pulled the Mana back from his legs and redirected every last bit into his right arm and the blade of his sword.
The gray-silver vein along the blade blazed with intense blue light as he raised the weapon above his head in one fluid, powerful motion.
The slash came down with brutal force.
The blade sliced cleanly through the Rogthar's left hand—the one gripping the sword—at the wrist. Wrinkled flesh and bone parted together with a wet, crisp sound.
"RRROOAAAAAAGH!"
The monster let out a hoarse roar, more of rage than pain.
The severed hand, still clenched around the hilt of the demonic sword, began to fall.
Mirac didn't have a free second hand to grab it.
'It's not over yet!'
Shouting the words inside his head, he performed a quick mid-air twist to add more momentum, and before the monster's severed hand could hit the ground, he delivered a violent kick, sending both the hand and the sword flying.
The weapon traced a glittering arc through the air and slammed into the rocky wall with brutal force, the blade sinking halfway into the stone with a screeching sound. The monster's severed hand dangled from the hilt, still stubbornly gripping the weapon in a final, futile attempt to hold on.
Now disarmed and missing a hand, the horned Rogthar turned fully toward Mirac. Its orange eyes burned with primordial, uncontainable fury.
'From this distance I can't dodge a direct hit!'
The monster lashed out with its uninjured arm at incredible speed, like a living whip, aiming to sweep away the masked human who had dared to maim it.
Mirac had already mentally prepared himself for this outcome. He knew that getting close enough to disarm the enemy would mean taking a direct blow.
'I have to minimize the damage!'
Still airborne after delivering the kick, the boy intercepted the Rogthar's massive hand with the flat of his blade, simultaneously pouring Mana into his sword and his own torso—to reinforce his muscles and cushion the impact.
Even so, the collision was devastating.
The force of the blow struck him full on. Mirac was hurled backward several meters, his body spinning through the air, until he slammed violently into the rocky wall opposite the one where he had sent the sword.
Alvern and Morwen had just finished off the last Rogthars that had rushed them. They had witnessed Mirac's daring move.
"Kid, are you alright?!" the tattooed woman shouted, her voice filled with genuine concern as she gripped her still-smoking hammer.
Fortunately, Mirac hadn't lost consciousness. His back screamed with pain—perhaps he had even cracked a few ribs—but overall, he was still alive.
The Mana he had channeled into his torso and blade at the last second had absorbed most of the impact, turning what would have been a lethal strike into a fierce but bearable agony.
At that moment, however, he had no time to worry about his physical condition.
From the corner of his eye, he saw that the horned Rogthar was already moving to retrieve its sword!
"Captain, we have to stop it!" Mirac shouted, forcing himself back to his feet despite the pain twisting his face beneath the mask. "That monster's sword is definitely the source of its magical power! Without it, it won't be able to launch any more fiery attacks!"
No one needed to hear it twice.
No one doubted his words.
The revelation hit the entire team like a bucket of ice-cold water, and they all moved accordingly so as not to waste one chance like this.
Alvern and Morwen were the first to sprint toward the sword embedded in the rocky wall, their heavy steps making the rusted rails tremble.
But the horned Rogthar was much closer to the embedded sword, and from that distance it would surely reach it first.
'At this rate we won't make it!' Alvern thought as he ran beside Morwen, double-headed axe gripped tightly in his fist.
When it already seemed certain who would win this desperate race, an agile, silent figure shot between them like a scarlet flash, far outpacing them both in speed.
At first, Alvern and Morwen had no idea who it was, but when their eyes fell on the red hair, they recognized her immediately…
Up until that moment, Carmen had been away escorting Felisia to the rear so she could be treated by Aisha, and now that she had just returned to the battlefield, she took in the entire situation with a single, meticulous glance.
So, without hesitation, Carmen immediately rushed toward the horned Rogthar to stop it.
She sprinted across the Rail Hall, dodging overturned wagons and Rogthar corpses scattered everywhere like obstacles. In no time at all, she reached the horned monster.
The creature spotted her at the last second. In a panic, it tried to get rid of her immediately, stretching out its uninjured arm to deliver the same blow that had sent the masked human flying.
But Carmen was already one step ahead.
She saw the monster's arm extend and dropped low in a flash, letting the strike whistle harmlessly over her head. Using the momentum of her run, she slid forward on her knees, and in that brief instant when she was directly beneath the creature's center of gravity, she drove both daggers into its thighs with rapid, precise strikes—tendons, muscles, everything that kept that mass of flesh and rage upright.
The horned Rogthar collapsed instantly.
Its knees buckled, its massive body swayed for a moment before giving way, and the monster went down with a heavy thud that made the rails vibrate all around.
It was on the ground. Exposed.
But the creature wasn't stupid.
Before anyone could take advantage, the horned Rogthar instinctively brought both hands to its neck, gripping it tightly with its powerful fingers to protect what it now knew was its weak point.
Then it let out a powerful roar that echoed throughout the Rail Hall, making even the torches on the walls tremble:
"ROOOAAARGH!"
After that guttural call, the few remaining Rogthars still on their feet—wounded, bleeding, but still driven by bestial ferocity—hurried toward the sword embedded in the rocky wall, obeying their leader's command.
Carmen therefore abandoned the horned Rogthar—she wouldn't have been able to kill it right then anyway, not with its neck protected like that—and gave absolute priority to the sword, rushing to reach it before anyone else.
Another Rogthar, however, already near the sword stuck in the rock, reached it first—just a few instants before Carmen—positioning itself between her and its leader's weapon.
The monster spun its flail above its head and hurled it violently toward the red-haired woman.
Carmen didn't slow down even a single step.
With a feline leap, she dodged the spiked head of the flail, hearing it whistle past. She landed gracefully on the monster's massive shoulders and, with the sharp, lethal motion she had perfected after dozens of executions, sliced cleanly through the Rogthar's neck.
Carmen landed while the creature's body was still falling. She took two quick steps toward the wall and yanked the embedded sword free with a violent tug. The horned Rogthar's severed hand, still convulsively gripping the hilt, dropped to the ground with a dull thud.
"Captain, catch!" shouted the red-haired woman, launching the weapon into the air with a precise throw.
The sword traced a parabolic arc and landed at Alvern's feet with a sharp clang.
The team leader didn't even spare it a second glance.
"Morwen, destroy it now!" he ordered, never taking his eyes off the horned Rogthar, which was slowly getting back on its feet.
The tattooed woman didn't hesitate.
She raised her giant hammer above her head and brought it down with all the devastating strength she possessed, striking the sword dead center.
The impact boomed through the hall.
When Morwen lifted her hammer again, however, only the shattered rocky ground remained before her. The horned Rogthar's sword remained perfectly intact.
Not a scratch. Not a single mark.
"Damn it! What the hell is this thing made of?!" exclaimed the tattooed woman, eyes wide with bewilderment and unease.
Meanwhile, the horned Rogthar had already risen to its feet. Its left hand had fully regenerated, as had the deep wounds on its legs.
When its burning gaze fell on Carmen—the human who had dared to steal its weapon—it snorted like an enraged bull, its chest swelling with primordial fury.
The horned Rogthar then looked around.
One by one, its orange eyes scanned the bodies of its kin scattered across the rails: motionless, decapitated, reduced to smoking carcasses.
None were getting up. None were growling. None were answering.
By now, the horde had been completely annihilated.
Only it remained.
In a fit of rage, the horned Rogthar roared again, this time with such power that the ceiling trembled and pieces of rock broke loose.
But when the roar ended, before it could decide its next move, something in the distance caught its attention.
Far away, almost at the other end of the Rail Hall, a woman with a fan was making slow, precise movements with her arms, manipulating the air in front of her until it spun into an ever denser and more compact vortex.
Right behind her, a boy with long hair tied in a ponytail had taken position with his sword—the blade already glowing hot, flames dancing along the steel like beasts on a leash.
"MOVE ASIDE!" Joren shouted, abruptly breaking the tension that had built up.
Alvern and Morwen didn't wait another second. They darted to the side in the blink of an eye, taking the Rogthar's sword with them.
Then Joren bellowed with all the air in his lungs:
"TAKE THIS!"
In perfect synchrony, Seren thrust the vortex forward while Joren lunged with his sword, unleashing his flames directly into the spinning column of air.
The fire spread at terrifying speed, devouring oxygen and growing stronger with every rotation of the vortex, until it transformed into a pure tornado of fire that roared down the hall with a deep, rumbling howl.
The horned Rogthar didn't even have time to react.
Seren and Joren's combined attack slammed into it head-on, leaving no escape.
The flames engulfed it from every side, and a harrowing roar burst from its throat—not of rage this time, but of agonizing pain.
"You really thought you were the only one who could launch fiery attacks from a distance?! Well, you were dead wrong, you bastard!" Joren shouted, his eyes burning with the same light as the flames. 'If its weak point is the head, then I just need to carbonize it completely, down to the last cell!'
With that thought fixed in his mind, Joren pushed beyond his limits, intensifying the power of his flames until he felt the muscles in his arm trembling from the strain.
"AAAAAARGH!"
The fire tornado lasted roughly 6-7 seconds, roaring at full power.
But at a certain point, the flames on Joren's blade began to waver, shrinking to a final orange flicker before dying out completely, like a candle suddenly snuffed. Seren dissolved the vortex at the same instant, letting the air settle.
A thick cloud of dust mixed with acrid smoke rose where the tornado had raged, obscuring the view.
What couldn't be seen could still be heard: from the guttural, agonizing screams tearing through the smoke, it was clear that the horned Rogthar was still standing, writhing in pain among the embers.
When the smoke finally thinned, everyone saw it with their own eyes.
The horned monster was burning.
Its red skin was shriveling and blackening, its muscles contracting under the heat. In that state, it wouldn't have been able to flee even if it desperately wanted to.
At one point, as a last resort, it threw itself to the ground, rolling across the rails and tearing at its own flesh with bare hands in a vain attempt to extinguish the flames—or at least dull the suffering—that were consuming it.
It was in that moment that Mirac and Carmen, at opposite sides of the Rail Hall, locked eyes for less than a fraction of a second.
No words. No gestures.
At the same time, the same conclusion formed in both their minds…
The scene before them—the horned Rogthar devoured by flames—was nothing less than the perfect opportunity to deliver the killing blow!
And finally bring this battle to an end, once and for all!