Suddenly—
A force ripped through me, like unseen hands had grabbed my chest and shoved me backward.
I was falling.
Then—
Air. Cold. Damp.
My back hit solid ground.
I gasped, my body jerking violently, lungs dragging in breath that I hadn't realized I'd lost.
I was back.
Back in the cave. Back in my body.
But something was different.
I felt whole. Unharmed. My wounds—the ones The Mother had torn into me—were gone. No pain. No blood.
I turned my head, breath still unsteady.
Rikard was still there.
Still breathing.
Barely.
He lay slumped against the ground, his body weak, his breaths shallow—but his eyes were open.
And he was looking at something behind me.
I knew before I turned.
The Mother was still there.
And as I pushed myself onto my hands, feeling my fingers flex as if I had just been born again—
I saw her expression.
For the first time—she looked shocked.
She could tell.
She knew.
I should not be alive.
The grip on my sword tightened.
I knew damn well—this wasn't over.
Not yet.
And there was only one way to keep us both alive.
The only choice.
I ran.
Straight toward Rikard.
I didn't stop. I didn't hesitate.
Tears flowed from my eyes, but I barely noticed them.
I'm sorry.
I kept repeating it in my head, over and over, like a prayer to a god that wouldn't listen.
I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry.
Rikard watched me approach.
His body was too weak to move, too broken to react. His expression was unreadable.
Did he know what I was about to do?
Did he understand?
I wasn't sure.
But as I raised my sword, as I prepared to strike—
I knew one thing for certain.
If he could move—he would have dodged.
But now, the only thing he could do was watch me.
One last time.
The blade fell.
A clean, swift cut.
His head separated from his body.
The cavern went still.
Then—
A dark, violent aura surged from his severed form, swirling like inky tendrils of shadow before rushing into me.
I felt it immediately.
Strength poured into my limbs, my muscles coiled like steel wires, my body lighter, faster, sharper.
I had never felt this alive.
Rikard was gone.
But I could feel him.
Still here.
Inside me.
I didn't know how to summon.
There was no spell, no incantation, no command that I knew of.
So I just focused.
On him.
On Rikard.
On every moment we had fought together, every time he saved my life, every time I looked at him and wished I could be like him.
And then—he appeared.
He stood before me, solid yet not entirely of this world.
His body was whole, untouched, exactly as I remembered—his armor still worn, his blade still in his hand, his stance firm, as if he had never died at all.
But his eyes.
They were no longer his.
They held the same endless void as Eindva's, black pits of nothingness that swallowed all light.
I exhaled, stepping forward, raising a hand. I placed it on his shoulder.
"Thank god you're still alive."
He didn't react.
Didn't flinch. Didn't blink.
His eyes remained locked forward, focused entirely on the creature before us.
The Mother had taken a few slow steps closer, her grotesque face twisted in something that almost looked like fascination.
"I want it," she whispered, her voice thick with hunger.
Her clawed fingers twitched at her sides.
"Your power."
I barely heard her.
Because something was wrong.
Not with her.
With me.
A strange pulling sensation coiled at the back of my mind, as if something unseen was shifting inside me.
I blinked—and the world changed.
Everything was the same.
But off.
My vision blurred for just a second, like a rippling distortion in reality itself.
And then—
I saw it.
The Mother moved.
A quick flicker, a fraction of a second—but she hadn't actually moved yet.
And then, almost instantly, her real body followed, lunging forward.
I reacted.
Before she even moved.
I leapt back, just in time to dodge her strike.
My heart pounded.
What the hell was that?
I inhaled sharply, trying to process it. And then—I remembered.
Eindva's words.
I had inherited more than just Rikard's body as a summon.
I had inherited his Magnum Opus.
And maybe—just maybe—this was it.
The ability to see something before it happens.