“Gurgle…”
Rean suddenly felt a searing current burst through his magical restraints, corroding everything around him. He tried to summon magic to bind it again—but no matter how hard he strained, he couldn’t fully contain it.
Only then did he realize: he’d been implanted with the final fragment of Fenrir’s Fang. Now, with the complete blade sealed inside him, Ifrit’s flames had shredded his magical bindings to tatters, rampaging wildly through his veins.
This was… the power unleashed when all fragments converged…
Rean abandoned resisting with magic. Instead, he channeled Gluttony’s authority to race through every magical circuit in his body. It wouldn’t ease the burning, but might lessen internal damage. Still, the bone-melting, blood-boiling agony twisted his face into a grimace. The grenade slipped from his fingers, clattering far across the stone floor.
“Hah! So even *you* can’t withstand the fragments’ full power,” the youth sneered, watching Rean pale and curl inward. Certain Rean was now combat-incapacitated, he raised a hand triumphantly. “Once you’re gone, the Christin family loses its strongest blade. Swallowing them whole will be effortless!”
“Rean! Hang on—I’ll heal you…”
“Get back! Don’t come near me!”
Olga reached to suppress the fiery energy from outside—but the moment her hand neared, Rean shoved her away. She tumbled to the ground.
“What the—? Ah!”
Scrambling up to scold him, Olga froze mid-breath at the sight before her:
A massive claw wreathed in crimson flames tore through Rean’s chest, slowly extending the arm behind it. Blood splattered the floor—then vanished, vaporized instantly. The wound’s edges carbonized visibly, like a wilting flower. The very concept of “death” unfolded before Olga: visceral, deliberate, slow.
That was… Ifrit’s claw!
The fire demon, meant to slumber eternally in the Permafrost, was now clawing free from Rean’s body like some grotesque alien!
“This is your end, Lein Christin.”
“A teleportation spell layered on the seal… Heavenly Law Circulation!”
Gritting his teeth, Rean gathered his last dregs of magic. A vast white circular array flashed before his palm. Then—a larger crimson array erupted from his chest, carrying Ifrit’s arm, and overlapped the white one.
Heavenly Law Circulation: Rean’s own transfer magic, designed solely to redirect other spells. Before Ifrit could fully awaken and burst free, he’d shifted the newly attached seal on Fenrir’s Fang outward—barely escaping death.
In the next heartbeat, the blazing beast leaped from the crimson array. Lion-sized, limbs corded with muscle, crimson skin blazing with eternal fire, its mane flowing like molten lava. Merely standing near it felt like standing beside a volcano about to erupt. Scorching airwaves choked Rean’s already-injured lungs. He swayed, unsteady.
“Ifrit’s flames shall herald the Christin family’s doom! This land shall belong to my lord, Demon King Mammon! And I, Renos Hagati, shall earn unparalleled glory!”
“ROAR—!”
Freshly awakened from a millennium of slumber, Ifrit unleashed an earth-shattering roar. Crimson fire pillars erupted from the earth, exploding outward like blooming crimson lotuses.
Olga scrambled up, propping Rean with one hand while erecting a pale-gold shield around them both. Firelight painted the barrier crimson. Golden shards shattered under the inferno—then instantly regenerated.
“Rean! Are you alive?! Hold on—I’m getting you back to the Demon King Citadel… Don’t you dare die!”
She knew her shield could hold. But Rean’s wounds couldn’t wait. If untreated now… he might truly die.
*That… absolutely must not happen!*
“Stop shaking me… makes me dizzy.”
“Finally revealed your name… worth taking that claw for.”
A teasing chuckle brushed Olga’s ear. She saw a faint, eerie smile spread across Rean’s soot-streaked face. The limp body leaning on her suddenly tensed with strength. And—impossibly—the carbonized, claw-pierced wound on his chest was healing before her eyes!
“Wait… you’re *fine*?!”
Eyes wide, Olga thumped his chest. Normal skin. Solid muscle. Her disbelief deepened.
“Nah. Almost died. Just stubborn luck… and a tough healing factor,” Rean chuckled, straightening up. He pressed his right hand to his fully healed chest—smooth, unmarked skin. “The Hagati family… minor nobles under Mammon, Fifth Demon King. Let him strut his stuff nicely. Now that Ifrit’s awake? This old seal’s useless.”
Dark light flared around Rean’s hand. It sank into his chest—no blood, no wound, like plunging into void. Olga watched his arm muscles shift: he was *gripping* something.
“Shhh—”
A sharp hiss cut the air inside the shield. Rean yanked the crimson Cursed Blade free. Orange sparks flowed along the wolf-toothed blade as it melted, then reshaped in seconds—evoking roaring flames.
Rean, master alchemist, had remade Lucifer’s Anti-Angel Cursed Blade—Fenrir’s Fang. Long steeped in Ifrit’s fire, his craft rebirthed it in moments: original runes preserved, Ifrit’s power seamlessly fused.
Blazing Cursed Blade—Laevateinn.
“Time for round two, little Hagati.”
Rean gripped Laevateinn and swung. A fiery blade erupted, slicing the shield and outer inferno cleanly in two. Beyond the flaming curtain, Renos Hagati stood frozen in shock. Rean’s eyes—now black-gold—gleamed with blatant, razor-sharp mockery.
