Gardenia’s Heart

All five of them had walked a path from which there might be no return.

Each had faced madness, pain, destruction, and fear.

Marching to the ends of the world, they challenged the being that would bring chaos to all living things. In that battle, their lives stood so close to the abyss of death that they had to give everything they had just to keep life from slipping through their fingers.

There was no comfort, no easy salvation.

And so, what they bore was not just a name.

Carrying the dreams and expectations of their people, each member who once formed that legendary group was honored with the only title worthy of their deeds.

"Hero."

A silver-haired girl murmured, stunned, her eyes fixed on the clash unfolding before her.

Inside Princess Thelira’s chamber, at the top of the royal palace of Lampides, two beings that defied the world’s common sense now stood face to face.

“I'll only ask one more time—what are you doing with my sister?!” the woman shouted again, tightening her grip around the shaft of her axe.

At the center of the impact, an amber axe and a blade of stardust collided in a deadlock, purple and blue tendrils flaring from the clash like sparks.

Pushing herself up from the bed with the help of the canopy, Thelira began walking toward the two women.

“No, Sister Elarielle! They’re not our enemies!”

However, before she could get closer, the shockwave from the two girls' clash pushed her back, her voice drowned in the explosive noise. Just as she was about to fall, the high elf cried out—caught and supported by Lily’s arms.

“Don’t kill her,” Lily’s cold voice echoed through the chamber, drawing everyone’s attention.

When the woman Thelira had called Elarielle laid eyes on the elf being protected by a human, anger flared across her face.

“Don’t you dare give me orders, human!” Elarielle shouted, the mana radiating from her intensifying, her golden hair whipping in the air.

And under that crushing pressure... Lily simply shook her head. “I wasn’t talking to you.”

A violet blast exploded.

Before she could even grasp what had happened, Elarielle was struck in the stomach and hurled backward, a portal wrapping around her mid-flight.

“Tsk...” Clicking her tongue as she spun at high speed, Elarielle twisted her body midair, driving her axe into the rooftop just inches before a fatal fall.

Landing with ease, the high elf scanned her surroundings.

The cold night breeze matched the altitude. The moonlight and stars bathed the royal palace rooftop in silver tones.

For someone like her, a single glance was enough to recognize the threat.

“Teleportation?” she muttered, cracking her neck as she stared at the presence now sharing the rooftop. “So that damned elder from the tower finally sent an assassin after us, huh?”

“Since I believe in being polite, I’ll say it again,” Nia replied calmly, her eyes never leaving the woman before her. “You attacked us first. I’m only protecting the one I love.”

The metamorph might not have been familiar with many things, but more than anyone, she understood the body.

There was nothing unusual about the way this woman carried her weight, the way she braced her core. Even though Nia had struck her stomach with four tentacles in a surprise attack—strong enough to shatter a leviathan’s scales—the woman had not sustained a single injury.

If the high elf didn’t fight, neither would Nia. But the bloodlust washing over her… wasn’t the kind that came to talk.

"To be honest, I don't care who you serve now," Elarielle admitted bluntly, then paused for a moment before continuing, mercilessly. "I just need to know how a demon managed to cross the World Tree's barrier."

Those were the exact words the other girl had been waiting to hear.

“...Demon?”

Repeating the word she'd just heard, the metamorph tilted her head slightly. She wasn't shocked—just confused.

“You've never looked at yourself in a mirror, have you? Whether it's a spell or drugs, nothing could perfectly replicate a demon’s eye pattern.”

As she watched Elarielle spin her amber axe through the howling night wind, Nia tried to make sense of what she was saying.

“...Because they’re red?”

Hearing the girl murmur, Elarielle’s expression soured.

“Do demons these days have vegetables for brains? Red eyes with diamond-shaped irises aren’t found even in the dragons that rule the skies. You could dye your white hair purple, even hide your horns, but if you do nothing about those eyes, someone like me would spot you instantly.” She laughed coldly and began to step forward. “That regal aura of yours doesn’t belong to some low-ranking field soldier—but I haven’t heard of any of the Five Twilight surviving members being killed or replaced. So... what hole did you crawl out of?”

It didn’t look like words would resolve this.

Four tentacles rose from her back as Nia started walking forward, the purplish-red aura surrounding her growing stronger, rising to meet the overwhelming force before her.

She was strong. Nia knew that.

Was this what it would feel like to face Orlaith if she were fighting in her real body, and not through a puppet? The thought flickered through Nia’s mind for just a moment.

The woman standing in front of her was on a different level than anything she had ever faced.

There was no need for a dramatic war cry.

Everything accelerated the moment it began.

Two bursts of wind exploded as both launched toward one another.

Swinging her axe horizontally, Elarielle aimed to cleave her opponent in two. A massive boom erupted in response to her power—but what her weapon struck was not the girl.

It was a black sphere.

A sound like shattering glass echoed as the sphere cracked under the force of the impact—but there was nothing on the other side.

“Tsk.” Clicking her tooths, the high elf leapt upward.

Beneath her feet—just a second away from piercing her chest—a black blade sliced through the air.

Landing back on the ground, she looked forward. The portal the girl had just conjured to strike her from behind disappeared.

“You handle that magic well,” Elarielle said. “But not well enough.”

The castle rooftop cracked beneath them, a sharp thud echoing in the night.

“-!?” Caught off guard, Nia gasped.

With explosive footwork, a single movement brought Elarielle face to face with her opponent in an instant.

An amber axe cut through the air, bloodlust pouring from it as she brought the blade down toward her enemy.

Caught by surprise, there was no time to dodge—and Nia knew it.

“Aaargh!” A cry of pain slipped through the metamorph’s clenched teeth.

Leaping backward, Nia fell onto one of her portals, instantly creating distance between them.

On the far side of the rooftop, she glanced at her right hand. Purple blood ran deep beneath the shredded fabric of her dress.

Four of her tentacles had grabbed the axe at the last moment, but all had been destroyed—and she had been forced to use her arm to protect the rest of her body.

"I have to admit, demon," Elarielle said as she walked slowly forward, spinning her axe and scattering the girl’s purple blood across the palace rooftop, her voice laced with a faint amusement. "Among everyone I’ve met who could use teleportation magic in my lifetime, you're second only to that idiotic human."

She now understood her opponent’s reaction time. One arm was already unusable. They stood only a hundred meters apart—if she crossed that gap again, she could end it.

Just as she was about to bend her knees, Elarielle turned her head on instinct. The slicing wind howled past her ears, and a warm line formed across her cheek. Bringing her left hand to her face, she felt the iron-scented blood spreading across her skin.

“Lily’s the one good at hand-to-hand. Even if I tried to copy her, I’d never do it quite like she does,” a dispirited voice echoed.

Fixing her gaze on the source of the voice, Elarielle spotted the purple-haired girl brushing her hair aside. Beside her, a colossal wall of black crystals spun faster and faster.

There were no screams, no complaints. Though her arm bled heavily, not even a groan slipped from her lips.

Like thunder crashing through a cloudless night, two black wings erupted from the girl's back, and she slowly began to float effortlessly into the air. Lifting her wounded right hand, a gel-like substance began to form around the injury, and in an instant, both the arm and her clothing were fully restored.

“Please don’t die, Miss Hero,” she declared coolly, a mischievous smile forming on her lips.

All the ice crystals surged forward, piercing the moonlight like jagged black lines.

The high elf knew she had no time to waste. Dashing across the vast rooftop of the royal castle, Elarielle swung her axe—

“-!?” The amber blade clashed with the ice, and Elarielle cried out in surprise.

She needed only a glance to understand. It wasn’t just ice being launched—each of those crystals was vibrating like a drill, preventing her from shattering them on impact and forcing her to redirect their trajectories instead.

And that wasn’t all.

“She’s not giving me any opening, huh...”

Just as she began to gather mana in her legs for a powerful leap, a small portal appeared behind her—and even more crystals burst through, forcing her to resume running.

“Irritating,” she muttered, her golden ponytail swaying with each movement.

Every crystal she knocked down exploded on the rooftop, creating craters powerful enough to threaten the entire structure. Even with her body coated in protective mana, taking a direct hit wasn't an option.

Her opponent wouldn’t fall for the same move twice. By maintaining a relentless barrage, there was no opportunity for Elarielle to launch a proper attack. If she stopped blocking or slowed her pace for even a moment, she’d be skewered.

“That’s what you’re betting on, isn’t it?”

She came to a halt and bent her knees, her axe tilted back in preparation to strike. What would happen was obvious—whether it hit her chest, arms, or legs, armor or not, her flesh was pierced and blood gushed forth. Yet the sharp gaze on her face didn’t falter.

With a single leap, she practically flew toward the moonlight, her body slicing through the air at high speed.

Even as she was struck by the hail of black crystals, in the span of a single blink, she was already in front of her opponent. The amber axe gleamed with a sickly hue—bitter, almost putrid green.

Nia didn’t even need to think. That attack was dangerous.

Her black shield wouldn’t be enough to stop it. As the axe came down, her stardust-forged blade, cloaked in dark mana, blocked the strike. With blinding speed, she launched herself backward, avoiding a drawn-out clash and creating distance.

Unlike her, the elf couldn’t fly. As Elarielle's acceleration slowed, she fell back onto the palace roof—and Nia had time to examine her sword.

The stardust-forged material of the blade looked perfectly normal—but the dark mana surrounding it did not.

Like an infection spreading through a body, the red-violet aura was rapidly turning darker. If it continued, the corruption would leave the sword and reach her body.

Nia quickly severed that portion of her mana and released it into the atmosphere, her previously expressionless face turning serious.

"Cellular death?" the metamorph muttered, her eyes falling on the high elf.

Letting out a soft laugh, the golden-haired woman extended one arm.

"Why do you look surprised? The line between healing and destruction is so thin that only fools try to separate them," she said, as a blue glow enveloped Elarielle's body. At a steady pace, every drop of blood and wound once covering her rosy skin began to vanish. "The magic that can remake your flesh and tissue can just as easily rot it."

As if she had never been wounded to begin with, she wrapped her body in even more mana—the pressure shifting the atmosphere itself, announcing what came next.

"I am one of the Five Heroes who slew the Demon King and the Queen of Lampides—Lophantera Elarielle Phaea, The One Who Denied Heaven."

With conviction, she pointed her weapon at her opponent.

Her words now held only one meaning.

Even if she was wounded, Elarielle would heal. If her attack landed, Nia could die. The high elf existed in that breathless pause between two heartbeats—the instant when everything could end… or begin.

Stating plainly that defeat was impossible, the only thing left was for her opponent to give up.

Faced with that, the metamorph had only one answer.

"My name is Gardenia." Nia gently lifted the edges of her dress and whispered.

She would never forget her manners, after all.

Everything moved at once.

Elarielle charged straight toward Nia, hundreds of black ice crystals raining down like a deadly storm.

Each strike might have landed as a powerful blow—but none would kill her before she could fully regenerate. The real issue was something else.

“Tsk,” she clicked her tongue once more. Rolling across the rooftop, the high elf pivoted and darted in a new direction.

Even if she was faster on the ground, she couldn’t match someone who could fly and teleport at will.

Now that her enemy knew she could cover large distances with a single dash or leap, she didn’t stay still for even a second, zipping across the sky while attacking from every direction.

But none of that mattered. Elarielle needed just one careless moment.

The instant a portal opened behind her to launch another volley of ice crystals, Elarielle dove through it.

Now, above the royal palace, she was face-to-face with the purple-haired girl in the open sky.

A portal wasn't one-way.

If you could send attacks through it, then obviously, you could go through it too.

She could’ve done this from the beginning—but she’d waited, hiding the possibility until her opponent grew desperate enough to create a portal large enough for her whole body to pass through.

A morbid aura enveloped her axe.

One strike was all she needed.

It was her victory.

And then—she swung her arms to cleave through the very existence before her.

“–!?”

Or rather, she tried.

With eyes wide in disbelief, Elarielle stared at what was stopping her movement.

“Emerald spiderweb?”

For the first time that night, she couldn’t believe the words leaving her own mouth.

Her arms, legs—even her fingers—were all bound by sticky, black, and incredibly strong threads.

“Miss Hero,” a voice rang out—irritated, but strangely cheerful. “Is this good enough use for you?”

Black fire ignited.

The pitch-dark flames, unnatural and alien, flickered in the reflection of Elarielle’s green eyes.

“Eh?” A genuine grunt of surprise slipped from her lips.

The dark filaments burst into flame—like living embers pulsing with their own will.

In just one second, the obsidian trap turned into a massive blazing inferno.

“Aaaaaaargh!!”

A scream of pain echoed across the night sky.

Amidst the black flames, a bluish silhouette thrashed desperately from side to side, two cold crimson eyes watching the scene unfold.

Whether Elarielle had more mana than her was irrelevant. Trial and error—it didn’t matter how many failures came before. She only needed success once.

How many spells could she cast simultaneously? What would happen if she fused two types of spells?

Now, she had someone in front of her who could help her find out all of that.

The sound of something cracking began to grow, and Nia felt the pressure around her increase.

With nowhere solid to anchor the black threads, she had used floating ice crystals and tentacles to bind them. A hard tug followed by another—and finally, with a resounding snap, the amber axe broke free from the webs.

Red blood splattered through the air. Even with injured fingers, Elarielle, now with one hand free, slashed through the remaining threads in a single swing.

Her skin was partially burned, the black flames struggling to pierce the dense mana cloak wrapped around her body.

Teeth clenched, face twisted with fury, Elarielle burst from the inferno—fully freed—and plummeted toward the ground.

When her weary body hit the rooftop, a small crater formed.

“D-Damn it…” she cursed.

Her head spun, dizziness and nausea blurring her vision.

Forcing her body upright, Elarielle planted both feet firmly on the ground and took a single deep breath. In the chill of the night air, her bloodied and aching body began to burn hot—and within seconds, every wound had vanished.

Her vision cleared—and straight ahead, exactly a hundred meters away, a girl with black wings touched down lightly, an innocent smile on her face.

Elarielle knew she couldn’t delay this any longer.

Her opponent was troublesome enough that even she had to admit it.

A morbid aura pulsed outward, and even Nia felt a chill race down her spine.

Lowering her center of gravity and bending her knees, Elarielle gripped her axe behind her head with both hands.

What remained of her green cloak billowed in the breeze.

The air trembled—every surrounding noise dulled, as if even the night wind knew what was coming and fled.

The woman’s muscles tensed, every fiber pulsing with a surreal surge of mana.

“This one won’t miss,” she said. The unshakable will in her voice made it clear—there were no lies. “You can try teleporting it back to me if you want. I can heal even if I take it full force. Let’s see which of us burns out first.”

This was her trump card.

And that meant conventional methods wouldn’t be enough to escape.

Nia knew the woman standing before her wasn’t someone she could dream of defeating unless she fought with everything she had.

If redirecting or teleporting the spell wouldn’t work—then she would simply cut through everything.

With deliberate grace, Nia drew the stardust-forged sword from her side.

The black blade began to pulse, purple tendrils crawling across its surface as white specks like stars emerged along the edge.

Under the skies of Lampides, waves of mana collided with dark mana, sending out shockwaves that shook every tree.

Red-violet rivulets circled the purple sword, while a sickly green aura of decay spread around the amber axe.

The two mages faced each other.

Both girls spoke in unison:

“[Cosmos—]”

“[Decay—]”

And then—

A white flash lit the world.