The blinding flash subsided.
The thunderous roar that had shaken the very axis of the earth vanished along with it.
All that remained was ash and silence.
In the center of a grey crater where every color of the world seemed to have died, I stood—or rather, staggered. 'Standing' wasn't quite the right word. I was merely holding my ground through a final, sheer stubbornness of will.
"…Cough… Urgh…"
What escaped my lips was phlegm thick with blood. Every last drop of my magical energy had been squeezed out; I didn't even have the strength left to twitch a finger. That final gamble, where I’d staked everything, had quite literally burned through my entire being. As a result, my body was no better than a tattered rag.
Patches of skin were charred and raw. My side, struck by a fragment of Pele's lava, was gouged deep, exposing red, pulpy flesh. Muscles torn by shockwaves and cracked bones groaned, screaming in protest. Normally, these wounds would have closed in an instant, but with my energy reserves bone-dry, my regenerative abilities had ground to a halt. The pain was absolute, pouring out from every laceration.
Is it… over?
Amidst my flickering consciousness, I desperately tried to focus on what lay ahead. The goddess of the great flames, Pele, was nowhere to be seen. Just then, carried on the scattering grey wind, a final echo resonated within my mind. It was the monologue of a defeated god, a final tribute to the King who had brought her low.
…O King who rules over contradiction. At the end of your arrogant and reckless path, I congratulate you on surpassing the signpost that was I. To this defeat… I offer my respect….
With those final words, her presence was completely erased from the world. I stared blankly at the sky turned lead-grey and the white ash piling up at my feet.
"I went as far as killing a god to win, and yet all I have in my hands is a pile of ash. Ah… my damn vacation…."
With a deep, exhausted sigh, I collapsed directly onto the bed of cinders.
"My King!"
A frantic voice called out from the distance. Alessandro and the Kahuna, having rushed through the ash, were struck with horror upon finding me in such a wretched state. Alessandro was well aware of a Campione’s miraculous recovery speed, but the sight of his master currently before him defied all common sense.
"Stay with us! Your Majesty!"
Alessandro knelt by my side, urgently checking my condition. His eyes took in the horrific wounds—the charred flesh and the torn body. With an expression of pure despair, he stared down at his own hands and muttered under his breath.
"Damn it…! How could this be…! I, who was meant to be the King's sword and shield, am useless at a time like this!"
His voice was thick with agonizing anger and self-reproach over his own impotence. He didn't think his King would die. But with injuries this severe and magical exhaustion this absolute, there was no telling how long recovery would take, or what dangers might strike in the meantime. It was a sight of his sovereign—whom he believed to be invincible—looking utterly vulnerable.
Then, the Kahuna placed a steady hand on Alessandro's shoulder from behind.
"Calm yourself, Knight. The King’s body is not broken. It is merely… that to achieve the feat of moving heaven and earth simultaneously, he poured out everything within his vessel without reservation. Right now, he is simply empty. You must trust in the strength of the King’s vessel and wait for it to be refilled."
Alessandro bit his lip at those words. Rage at his own weakness and sorrow for the pain his master endured flickered across his face. He could do nothing but grip my blood-stained hand.
Alessandro’s nonsensical blathering right next to me actually served as a spark to my fading consciousness.
If I let him be, he’ll really hold onto me and beat himself up all night. I need to say something to snap him out of it before the aftermath becomes even more of a pain to deal with.
Squeezing out the last of my strength, I forced a voice through a throat that sounded like grinding metal.
"…Be quiet, Alessandro…"
"…! My King!"
Startled, Alessandro leaned in to look at my face. I managed to crack my eyes open, looking at him with an unfocused gaze.
"…It’s not… your fault. This was… a fight I chose. I’m just… taking a short break."
With that, I lost consciousness completely. Alessandro remained frozen for a moment before nodding with an expression of hardened resolve.
Meanwhile, in the skies tens of kilometers away from the battlefield where that apocalyptic struggle had just concluded, a man stood with his arms crossed, looking down at the entire scene.
The Fifth King, the Black Prince, Alexander Gascoigne.
Standing on an invisible platform, he stared at the island—now home only to ash and silence—with indifferent eyes.
"I was right after all. That ancient, distorted seal was nothing more than a wound on the verge of bursting. To think such a disaster would erupt the moment the Heart of the Earth was removed. And for the solution… to be the collision of opposing forces to annihilate the divine relic itself. Brutal and crude, perhaps, but as a result, it was the most efficient answer. Fascinating."
Just as he was about to turn away with a satisfied smirk—
"Your 'curiosity' has set off the alarms in my jurisdiction quite loudly, Alexandre. How do you plan to take responsibility for this disturbance?"
A masculine voice, mechanically modulated, rang out from nowhere. Alec’s brow furrowed slightly in annoyance.
Behind him, particles of light gathered in the air, soon manifesting into an 'existence.' A massive black cloak with a high collar fluttered in the wind, revealing black attire beneath. But more than anything, what commanded attention was the mechanical full-face helmet embedded with several green lenses.
It was the Campione of the United States, John Pluto Smith.
"You again, Smith? Still wearing those childish clothes, I see," Alec said, making no effort to hide his contempt.
"This appearance is the symbol of justice that stands against evil! I wouldn't expect a mad scientist like you, who disturbs the world under the hollow pretext of exploring magical truths, to understand!"
Through the modulated voice, John performed with the exaggerated flair typical of a hero. However, that performance soon shifted into the cold tone of a true 'King.'
"Because of your dangerous little prank, two Heretic Gods ran wild, and the entire Pacific has been thrown into an uproar. Regardless of our non-aggression pact, this is not a matter I can simply overlook."
The gaze from behind the helmet pierced Alec chillingly.
"I’ll give you a piece of advice, Alec. Since you’re the one who pulled the trigger on this incident, that fledgling King has become the lead actor on a stage he never wanted."
His voice carried the minimum respect due to a fellow 'King,' yet it was laden with a clear wariness of the chaos that King would inevitably cause.
"The responsibility for the chaos he will cause lies with you, for dragging him onto this stage. If that Seventh one ever runs wild in my backyard… I have a duty, as the protector of order, to suppress that chaos. When that time comes, I will first hold you accountable for the trouble you’ve caused, and then, as King to King, I will teach that rookie exactly where the 'boundary line' is drawn."
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