Gardenia’s Heart

From the very first movement, everything defied common sense.

As tough as stone and as wide as city streets, branches of black wood sliced through the air toward the demon.

But he didn’t dodge.

Spreading his stance, Drelkos shifted his supporting foot back, raising his elbows to shoulder height. Then, spinning like a whirlwind, he pivoted his foot, transferred his weight through his hips, and brought his shin up in a deadly arc.

The sound was absurdly loud, yet muffled.

With a single explosive impact, his leg cracked through the air like a steel whip. As if slamming into an unbreakable wall, the branches shattered along their entire length.

“I’ll warm up a little, if you don’t mind.” Letting out a short sigh—more like a comma than actual fatigue—Drelkos reached for the sashes at his waist and tightened the knots. “Since I’ve been waiting outside the barrier for a few days, my muscles have stiffened up.”

It was a casual provocation, but Nerine wouldn’t be bothered by something so trivial. Her black kimono flowing elegantly around her body, she placed a hand over her mouth like someone overwhelmed by revulsion.

“Perish.” She spoke with a venomous grace that made no attempt to hide her disgust.

From the ceiling of the wooden cavern, dozens of droplets fell, lashing forward like blades toward the man.

Drelkos glanced up at the attack and began bouncing lightly on his feet, cracking his neck in relaxed motions. The metallic clink of steel plates at his waist echoed softly—then he dashed.

This is a thought someone might have in their daily life: in a heavy rain, do you get wetter by walking or running?

Drelkos’s answer to that would be…

“Insignificant.”

Rushing into the deadly downpour, Drelkos weaved through the barrage with blinding speed, not a single droplet managing to touch his skin. Each step, lighter than the last, failed even to disturb the topmost layer of dust on the ground.

The cold air turned his breath into wisps of grey. With no other movement in the cavern, the only sound was the steady impact of water blades crashing into the ground.

“This forest be the sacred soil I guard with my very life. If thou truly wishest to defile this place, then death shall I bring upon thee!”

With the grace of a lady and the lethality of an executioner, Nerine stared at Drelkos as if examining a worm.

The water stopped falling.

There were no dramatic words or grand gestures—she simply raised her right hand into the air and clenched it.

Golden petals spiraled around her, the density of mana in her body sending pulses of energy toward the Twilight. And then, as if wielding an invisible weapon, she slashed through the empty space in front of her.

As if attuned to the world itself, the golden petals surged forward toward the demon.

He didn’t even bother to dodge.

It happened instantly.

Like chains, the petals wrapped tightly around the black carapace covering his arms. A golden glow erupted across his entire body, only to vanish as though it had never been there at all.

Staring at himself, Drelkos slightly parted his lips, as if about to ask a question—but remained silent.

His fingers opened and closed a few times, his eyes studying the metal gloves with a cold, analytical gaze. His body hadn’t been cut, but Drelkos knew something had been struck.

“Three-quarters... no, four-fifths,” he muttered, placing one hand on his waist and drumming his fingers against his leg—not out of impatience, but from a flicker of amusement. “I assumed you’d developed the concept of ‘home’ even further since last time, but I didn’t expect this.”

They were experts, far above the rest.

They had no need for convoluted tricks.

It was a simple logic:

If it’s polite to remove your street shoes before entering someone’s home, wouldn’t it also be polite to do the same with your weapons?

In this case, what is a mage’s weapon?

There was a strange sensation—like a box that looked full to the eyes, yet felt undeniably empty when held. It was there, but impossible to use. Even a novice would notice what had occurred.

“A spell that seals an opponent’s mana... truly fascinating. That kind of creativity is what earns someone the title of genius.” Drelkos whistled, clearly impressed. “I wouldn’t expect anything less from our Lord’s teacher.” A thin smile formed on his lips.

“‘Tis the past.” Nerine replied dryly, adjusting the sleeve of her kimono with precision.

“That’s a cruel way to put it. If you returned to Finis, I have no doubt you’d still be welcomed among the Twilights—even now.”

A cold gleam flashed in his red eyes as he extended an open palm toward the woman, a silent invitation.

“That child hath been twisted.” Her voice drifted like a distant memory. “I brought them forth, for I glimpsed a future where all might know joy. They were meant to bind the dreams of those around them, not to destroy them!”

Even now, there was kindness in her orange eyes.

“I shall not suffer vile violence to be the hand that ruleth this world!”

Her fingers traced spirals through the air, as if stitching the void itself — and from the ground, black trunks surged upward, slicing through the air with violent force.

Standing still was no longer an option.

This time, Drelkos leapt, running atop the rampaging wooden pillars as he closed the distance.

With much of his mana sealed, the demon knew it was unwise to take any attacks head-on. Due to his subordinate, he was familiar with mana-suppressing shackles — while inferior, they were still capable of cutting off most mages from their magic entirely.

”By splitting sections of wood that carry your mana signature, you’re able to create smaller-scale versions of the spell. However, your ’home’ is bound only to the forest, isn’t it? That’s why you can’t act beyond it.”

He spoke more to himself than to the woman.

There was no grand reason behind it — he simply felt like saying it.

“Hold thy tongue. Thy words be as foul to mine ears as the squeals of a swine.”

And just like him, the fairy responded in whatever way she pleased.

“Then let’s be brief. Grand speeches don’t suit me either.” Shrugging, he brushed aside the rebellious strands of white hair that fell over his eyes.

Watching the floating fragments of ruined structures, Drelkos leapt, grabbing onto a pillar with one hand. In a fraction of a second, his eyes scanned the entire area, and before the colossal wooden branches could reach him, he kicked off toward the wall.

“Most people think fighting is just about kicking or punching hard, but precision and timing are far more important.”

With his feet planted firmly against the wooden wall, he raised his right arm.

A bluish glow expanded from his hand, morphing into a thick purple smoke that pulsed like a living thing.

A disturbing sound followed.

It wasn’t the harsh tear of flesh or the crack of breaking bones.

It was the splintering of wood.

“Aaaaargh!”

And it was none other than the fairy who screamed.

Like a candle flame flickering in the wind, the green pulses in the environment began to race—erratic, frantic.

And then came another punch.

A shockwave displaced all the air around him, striking the wall of living wood and creating a massive crater.

“Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaargh!!”

Then another blow. And another. And another.

Each strike forcing a scream from the fairy so loud it echoed across the entire forest.

It didn’t take long after that.

All of the fairy’s attacks had ceased.

The green pulses running along the walls grew weaker and weaker, until the glow in the area barely remained.

“That alone was enough to keep you from sealing my mana?”

Releasing his stance from the wall, he let his body fall back to the ground. Re-tightening the band around his waist, he walked toward the center of the area, a clear look of frustration on his face.

Nerine lay collapsed in his path.

The fairy showed barely any signs of life—she looked more like a still image than a living being.

And yet, not a single drop of blood or speck of dirt marred her body.

Drelkos didn’t bother to step around her fallen form. He walked—and simply passed through her.

It wasn’t physical—there was no contact at all.

“A mere illusionary projection isn’t strong enough to stop me, especially when most of your body is already shattered. Standing before me in this state is as pointless as holding a torch up to the sun.”

He scratched his white hair and sighed.

“If you undid your transformation and returned to your original form, you might actually have a chance at defeating me. But that would destroy the little sanctuary you call a forest, wouldn’t it?”

Nerine didn’t exist in a way that damaging one of her organs would kill her.

She didn’t even have organs to begin with.

Her entire being was that tree—there was no brain or heart to target.

Put simply, it was all a matter of percentage.

“Half of your body forms the roots spread throughout the forest. The other half is here. Did you really expect to stop me with just a fraction of your existence?”

There were so many cracks in the tree, it was a miracle the entire structure hadn’t already collapsed.

Just as a human would suffer if one of their bones were broken, that woman felt every bit of damage inflicted on her branches, leaves, and roots.

“To know this is the end of someone we once held in such high regard... is truly pitiful.”

Without sparing the fairy another glance, Drelkos stepped toward the base of the pedestal.

With a single motion, his right hand gripped the hilt of the weapon buried among the dark roots.

The outer seal prevented anyone from entering this place.

The inner soil sealed the dark mana within.

Together, they meant Drelkos had already surpassed every defense that required external factors to break.

All that remained was strength.

His glove tightened, his fingers clenched—and then, he pulled.

With a single motion, a powerful tremor rippled through everything.

“Magnificent.”

There was no more fitting word to describe the sword.

The night-black hilt was adorned with silver filaments that curled up to the base of the obsidian guard. The blade, as dark as the deepest night, was as cold as nonexistence itself.

It was something that belonged to this world, yet it did not seem of it.

As enduring as the dawn of time and strong enough to withstand its end.

Like a beast breaking free from its chains, the item had once again been unleashed upon the world.

The World-End Blade, Ragnarok, was being wielded once more.

“And now...” Drelkos cast an indifferent glance downward.

Like a dam breaking, a massive surge of dark mana burst through the pedestal and began to flood the wooden cavern.

It was dense enough to be tangible, as if the very air had thickened into water. The dark mana that escaped in bursts was powerful enough to make even the demon’s skin tingle.

There was one more thing that needed to be done.

It was no different than placing a flammable material near a flame—completely safe if properly contained, but capable of causing devastating consequences with a single mistake.

Circling the shattered pedestal, Drelkos’s eyes landed on several colorless spheres.

“So, this is a fairy’s seed.” He raised one eyebrow for a moment—a small gesture, yet enough to twist the core of a woman.

“N-No! Not that!”

Still collapsed on the ground and on the verge of breakdown, Nerine dragged herself forward. She couldn’t allow this to happen. Her outstretched hand reached out, trying to do something, but it was useless.

Drelkos crouched, picking up one of the colorless spheres, his red eyes gleaming with amusement.

With a single effortless motion, he threw the colorless sphere toward the shattered pedestal.

“N-nooooooooooooooo!!”

Even her screams couldn’t stop what had begun.

Like a purple thunderclap rising from the ground, the sphere shattered across its entire surface. Shards of energy sprayed in all directions, every crack vomiting purple veins like entrails exposed to the light. At a terrifying pace, the entire surface began to transform. Like piles of tissue gathering, each filament intertwined until something pulsed within.

A wet snap of membranes breaking echoed.

It was a birth—so naturally, a cry arose.

A bestial scream, neither human nor animal, exploded throughout the space. As if the very air were being flayed alive, the echo shattered against the walls and reverberated through the entire tree.

It was born.

A deformed mass emerged in spasmodic contractions, swelling like raw flesh and twisting as bones began to form.

The sticky sound of flesh knitting together, tendons intertwining, the hiss of boiling purple blood, and the groan of a creature that did not yet understand its own form.

The entire chaotic symphony was enough to shatter any coherent thought.

Dragging itself forward, the growing monster ignored everyone in the chamber and moved toward the exit, fleeing outside.

“No...” That was all the woman could say.

Nerine had no heart, but she felt as if it had been shattered. Her eyes were but a small projection of her soul, yet they were full of tears.

She didn’t care if she looked pathetic or ugly. The fairy kept dragging her body toward the escaping monster, trying desperately to do something.

But of course, the one who accompanied her couldn’t care less.

“As a final act of respect, I would like to kill you wielding the full power of this weapon, but only those considered descendants of our Lord’s lineage can remove Ragnarok’s limiter.”

Spinning the sword several times in his hand, Drelkos positioned himself in front of the fairy. The mana swirling around his body made it clear he had no intention of prolonging his stay there.

“You know, even after everything, our Lord never labeled you a traitor.”

For the first time, a pained expression appeared on the demon’s face. The neutral tone he had maintained before vanished.

“Unnecessary emotions clouded your vision, Nerine. If you had continued with your precognition, you might have foreseen this attack, but instead, you handed her over to the High Elves—look at the result.”

It wasn’t as if he didn’t understand her intentions. Compassion and empathy were things he was familiar with. He was simply stronger. That fact gave him the right to judge what the woman before him had become.

Just as one doesn’t remember what they ate three days ago, Drelkos wouldn’t care to remember that woman after leaving this place.

“You should have held on to pessimistic predictions rather than nurture easy hopes.” He let out an exasperated sigh. “Well, it would have been a pathetic and ridiculous end either way.”

The words, sharp and unforgiving, were cruel.

They bore no meaning other than to humiliate the existence they were directed at.

Nerine knew this.

And even in the face of all that, it wasn’t anger or hatred that burned in her chest.

“Those who come to dwell in my home art mine own children.”

Nerine spoke in a low tone, her words carrying a pain so intense it seemed to tear through the air around her.

“Is it a sin to wish no misfortune nor tragedy? To long for children to play and grow hale and hearty—should that be but a mere dream?”

Not even the barrier she used to encircle the forest harmed those who entered.

She didn’t care if they took parts of her flesh to forge artifacts. She was indifferent to them drawing her blood to create potions.

That woman would give up each of her innate abilities so that those within her territory could live.

“Where lies the wrong in a mother providing for her children?”

She did not want to see suffering.

She did not wish for a twisted world.

The fairy carried sadness within her.

But tears would not change what she had already done.

“I put my trust in them...”

He might have been right.

She was no different from a dreamer.

If she hadn’t given up her power, she could have done something against that man.

If she had forsaken the lives she sought to protect and set aside her principles, she could have fought.

But...

Yet...

“I trust in the future that these children shall guide us!”

No matter what happened,

None of it changed what she would believe until the end.

The night would soon come to an end.

And she was certain the sun would shine.

“-!?”

An explosive sound was heard.

And Drelkos felt his entire body stiffen.

It would not be wrong to say that many lives had sprung up in that forest.

And they had developed in ways the fairy could never have imagined.

The idea of creating a land to protect the weak might be an illusion.

But, undeniably, one thing was certain.

That illusion had created something real.

Because she had arrived at the place.

“Hello.”

It was a casual greeting.

“My wife asked me to help our neighbors get rid of some trash.”

She wore a black dress that barely covered her modest bust. A flowing white skirt that clung to her toned thighs.

Her two crimson eyes, like precious stones, shone even in the darkness of the cave. Her purple hair swayed gracefully

With a smile spreading across her rosy cheeks, the high-heeled girl climbed the last step of the staircase leading to the core of the World Tree.

“So, Mr. Demon, could you do me the favor of dying?”