Liebe spat, "Kill me? Huh — that's rich coming from someone who uses telepathy to speak."
The voice replied, cold and amused, "I'm not far away. If I were, how could I possibly stay away from my prize?"
Suddenly Liebe felt a sharp pain: a sword had pierced him from behind. "Lord!" Gelda cried.
Before anyone could react, five blades skewered him in quick succession. The voice sneered, "Now—die, Liebe al Faust."
Liebe grunted as blood seeped. Good thing I shielded my heart with darkness, he thought — otherwise those holy blades would have finished him. He forced himself upright. "Isn't it unwise for anyone to get close to me?" he rasped.
Light snapped in the air. "Spatial Magic — Another Atlas!" The entire castle — and Liebe with it — was ripped from the world and placed into a different pocket of space. The only way out would be to shatter the spatial barrier, which was being held by seven mages.
When the pocket stabilized, the man in the shadows revealed himself. "I am Azelf. I will kill you," he declared.
Liebe laughed without humor. "Don't make me laugh. A clown like you could never kill me. Show me the one behind you."
As if on cue, piles of monsters surged into the pocket. Liebe grinned. "Great. More test dummies. Only this time I have real swords." He wrenched free the blades that had pierced him and stalked forward. Azelf's spatial magic spawned portals all around them — monsters spilling out unpredictably from each tear in reality.
Wave after wave the horde came; monsters were torn to pieces, flesh and bone strewn in a growing heap. Liebe's eyes scanned the gore until he stopped, then lunged toward a particular pile.
"Found you," he whispered.
He struck — Dark Magic: Dark Strike — and sliced through the scorched mass. A figure rose from the corpses, standing and applauding slowly. "You truly are remarkable, Liebe Faust."
"Cut the crap," Liebe snapped. "You're about to be minced meat."
The man stood straighter. "How did you know I was hiding?" he asked.
"I'm not blind when it comes to sensing magic. You — Mr. Albert Ulbo, four-star general of Baledia and its greatest strategist — have just signed your own death warrant." Liebe's blade shimmered. "You're just another name in the pile of corpses. Nothing else. I will turn you to ash."
Albert/Albertus barked, "You can't take on both of us at once, Liebe! Now that this place is cut off from reality, no one can help you!"
Liebe laughed, cold and sure. "You don't understand how dire your circumstance is. You're trapped in a cage with me. Your death will be far more entertaining than you imagine."
Azelf snarled and tried to stabilize the barrier. "Spatial Magic — Spatial Rend!" he cried.
Liebe answered with a brutal flurry of dark techniques — Conquista Slash, Black Star Burn — carving a star-shaped wound across Azelf's chest. Flesh rotted and decayed where the star burned, and Azelf staggered.
As Azelf faltered, Liebe invoked a dark x-attributed steel demonic form. Horns erupted from his brow; his power spiked, and every enemy there felt their fate in that surge. Azelf's fingers trembled at the control slate. "I can't— I can't control the barrier!" he hissed.
Then Gelda stepped through a portal, spirit-bright. "My spirit form — Spirit of Arcesia. I can control any spatial distortion here."
"How...?" Azelf gaped.
As Albert bled, panicking and at his wit's end, he screamed, "Why, Liebe Faust? Why are you the only one who exists outside the laws of nature? What makes you special? If you kill me, Baledia will destroy Black Rose!"
"That's enough," Liebe said. He struck Albert from behind, sending him to his knees. Without mercy, Liebe drove his sword into Albert's spine, then grabbed him by the hair.
"Let's go, Gelda," Liebe said, hauling Albert along like a ragdoll. Albert's screams of pain and pleas for mercy filled the pocket — he clawed, begged, even cried that Eldoria would be destroyed if he died.
Gelda's voice was flat: "That's enough."
Liebe dragged the broken general out to the edge of the breach. "Send the corpse back," Lilith's voice echoed from the other side — cold, final. "One night and one day. After that, there will be no fleet left to retreat."
"Understood," Liebe said, and he handed the paralyzed Albert to the harried knights who'd come for the body. Albert could only scream as they dragged him away, his spine shattered, face white with terror.
Back in the field, Gelda cast one final spatial command. "Spatial Magic — Crush." The domain collapsed, crushing Azelf into nothing — he was erased from the fabric of reality.
By sunset the battles had concluded. Black Rose emerged victorious, though costly: many branch heads were wounded; three of the leaders had been sent to ICU. Civilian casualties had been limited — only seven in Helm and Beto before Licht arrived.
When Liebe returned to the Faust estate with Gelda and the limp, broken Albert, they entered before Lilith, knelt, and Liebe forced the captive to look up. Lilith regarded the ruined man and spat, "Is this the filth who dared challenge us?"
"Yes, ma'am," Liebe answered. Albert tried to speak, to grovel, but Liebe smashed his head to the floor. "Shut up," Liebe told him. "Your life is over."
Lilith's order was merciless. "Send the corpse back," she said.
As Albert was dragged away — half-paralyzed, spine ruined, unable to do anything but scream for mercy and shout that Eldoria would fall — Liebe turned and said to Gelda, cold as the dark they'd used to win: "Time to take the filth to the forge."