With all its might, it howled toward us. But before the sound could reach, my mother chanted a few words—and with the final one that left her lips: Barrier Magic, Level Two—The Hardening.
A glowing, translucent barrier sprang to life, canceling the howl before it could reach us.
The wolf glared at us and growled before suddenly slashing its claw at the barrier. With each strike, it added more force than the last, desperate to break through.
I don't know what my mother did, but because of it, we are safe for now.
But what comes next... it seems the wolf is about to break through.
And when the barrier seemed to break my mother started chanting, but this time at the end she said something different: Barrier Magic, Level Four—God's wall.
A similar glowing, translucent barrier sprang to life, but this time more thicker and with layers.
The beast stepped back and started analysising new berrie, and after a moment it started gathering a dark aura around itself. As we watched in horror, it grew taller, its claws lengthening into deadly weapons.
In its new form, the wolf attacked with unprecedented ferocity. Each slash now carried greater force, empowered by his new colossal form. One by one, the protective layers began to shatter.
My mother, terror etched on her face, held me tighter. She seemed to realize the barrier wouldn't hold much longer. When she looked down at me and saw the tension in my eyes, her expression softened, just a little.
Trying to comfort me, she whispered, "It's going to be okay, my little baby. Mama will protect you. Don't worry."
It's a lovely thing to hear from someone you love—that they'll protect you. But in that moment, I hated hearing those words. I couldn't bear the thought of her getting hurt to protect me.
I know she's just as terrified as I am—this new appearance, this overwhelming power of the beast has shaken her, and in my judgment, she can't take him on. And that made me hate those words—even though they reflected love and protection, they came with the fear of losing her.
I had already lost one mother; I couldn't lose another, especially not like this. I wanted more time with her, to learn from her, to live a happy life together.
Then, I heard her murmur to herself, "I have to become a decoy and lure this Fenrir away. With the magic I have left, I'll create the strongest barrier so my son can survive."
Her words hit me like a weight crushing my heart. Fear gripped me as I imagined her sacrificing herself. I wanted to scream, to beg her not to go, but what could a baby like me do? If I had my old body, maybe I could be a decoy at least. She had become the mother I cherished, just like my previous one. I couldn't let this happen.
Frustration and anger boiled inside me. I refused to live a life filled with regret, wondering "what if." I had to act. Summoning all the strength my tiny body could muster, I clung to her, determined not to let her go.
"It's going to be okay. You don't have to worry. It will be fine," she said, trying to pry me off.
But I held on with all my might.
"Baby, it will be fine. Now let go of Mama, please," she pleaded, tears falling onto my cheek.
Her tears fueled my resolve, but my infant strength was no match for hers. Gently, she set me on the ground and began chanting: " Barrier magic, Level Six—sacrificial love.
A familiar translucent barrier formed around me. I realized her plan: she intended to remove the larger remove barrier after she formed barrier around me and act as a decoy. Panic surged through me. I didn't want this. I screamed internally.
"I love you, my little boy," she said as the outer layer began to fracture from within. Simultaneously, the wolf's relentless attacks were breaking through from the outside.
I couldn't bear it. I couldn't even call for help.
The barrier layer are shattering one-by-one before my eyes. With only two layers of barriers left, both weakening rapidly—one by the wolf, the other by my mother to protect me—to became a decoy.
Why couldn't I just live a happy life? Damn it! I had to do something. I didn't want a life filled with regret, knowing I couldn't do anything for my mother. I promised to live life to the fullest—so how could that be possible if I lose her? It's just like my previous world… when my mother parted from me, everything started to fall apart, and I was left with nothing but regrets and endless 'what ifs.'
I have to set my resolve, I would fight gods or the king of hell to save my mother. I wouldn't lose her again. I refused to live a life of "what if" and regret. I had to act.
Something... anything... AAAAAHHHHH!
.....
At the same time…
"My Lord! There's a howl and growl of Fenrir coming from the garden!" a knight reported urgently.
Edric didn't respond. He urged his horse to go faster and began chanting under his breath. He finished the incantation with last of it: Fire Magic, Leverl Three—Explotion.
But just as he broke through, a familiar magical aura swept past—dark and heavy. The captain and all nearby squad members felt it instantly.
The captain turned to Edric. "My Lord… that was dark magic. But how? You didn't cast anything."
"No, I didn't," Edric replied, his eyes sharp. "But someone did. I'm sure of it."
He continued on without delay, only stopping when he saw a terrible sight—Fenrir, unconscious. But not just him—Serenia and their baby lay motionless as well.
Edric leapt off his horse and rushed to their side, the captain and squad close behind.
Dropping to his knees, he checked Serenia and the baby. A wave of relief washed over him as he whispered to himself, "They're just unconscious..."
Still, unwilling to take any chances, he called out, "Mage! Come here—now!"
The mage sprinted to his side. "Yes, my Lord!"
"Check them. Use everything you have—even for the slightest trace of injury."
(Author's Note: Barrier Magic is commonly used by others as well, but its final level comes with a strong resolve—to sacrifice oneself to protect others. It creates the strongest possible barrier, one that even a Fenrir would struggle to break. However, once this level is invoked, the caster can't use Barrier Magic again untile he or she undo it.)