Not like his enemy was wrong.

On the previous occasion, they had literally had it against the wall. He had slid Abigail's knife between those ribs and all the way to the heart.

He had felt it. There was no way he could have been wrong- Yet, despite that, it hadn't just gotten out of the situation. Transforming into smoke again and fleeing through a crack in the glass of the door, as soon as he removed the knife. Not only that, but the creature was fine even after getting stabbed in the heart. Despite what it had looked like to him at first, when he had seen it go into the woods. It hadn't affected it at all. It had fought him as if that hadn't happened and had nearly killed him.

All that was true.

So he shouldn't get complacent. He shouldn't assume that everything was done.

However...

"Not long ago, you thought you wouldn't end up this way again. And that's not the only thing that's changed. Like I said, I'll prove it to you. Right here, right now.

With both hands, Desmond raised his sword above his head.

Things had changed. Abigail had laid out a plan that could not fail. It had been close, but his victory was assured.

Desmond swung the sword toward the shadow's chest.

"Stop! "the shadow pleaded.

It didn't raise its arms to protect itself. It was not capable of such a thing. One of them had been cut down by him. As for the other, it couldn't move it an inch thanks to the knife buried in that shoulder.

That's right.

It had no way to defend itself.

And he had proven that his sword could hurt it, by cutting off one arm and seeing that it hadn't regenerated.

So he just had to complete the move.

One second, no, less than one second, and the barrier would fall along with the life of his enemy.

However, Desmond stopped his hands at the last moment.

The blade of the sword was millimeters from the enemy's neck.

The enemy looked at him as if unable to believe that he had actually stopped.

"What is it? Do you have any last words? "Desmond asked.

But he hadn't stopped the blow just to mock him, or at all. That answer had come to him spontaneously, without him seeing it coming. The reason he hadn't finished the attack was another.

"If you kill me, the barrier will remain in place. You will remain locked up here like rats waiting to be exterminated.

The reason, very simply, was that he had wanted to hear her answer.

Just in case.

As a precaution.

Abigail had told him it would try to trick him this way, but that was something even Desmond had seen coming.

Because he was good at fear. Because that was the first thing anyone would have thought of to get out of this situation. However, his enemy wasn't as cunning as he thought it was.

Because it was too convenient a lie for anyone to believe it was legitimate.

Even if it was.

But there wasn't even the slightest chance.

His enemy was special. His enemy was unlike anyone he had ever seen before.

However, Desmond didn't believe he was special enough for its magic to survive its .

The mage's magic died with them.

That was an immovable truth.

Just like that the dead are dead, simply as that, an inner voice whispered to him. But you know...

Desmond pushed it from his mind.

And he snorted, smiling.

He pulled his sword back so he could deliver the coup de grace with all his might.

"Wait, wait, wait, you nut! I mean it! It' s still got enough "fuel" to last an hour or so without me!"

Desmond hesitated.

That... that was different, and even believable. It was still something too convenient for the enemy, but....

If it turned out it was telling the truth and Desmond killed it here and now.... They wouldn't last another hour. Well, maybe they would, but... Amy was in that state.

Amy was in that state. Who knows if she'd last another hour like that? Not to mention that the chances of her being killed were very high. She could barely move, let alone defend herself.

He had... he had to consider it, at least.

But whatever his decision was, he had to make it quickly.

He had no time to waste.

The enemy was no longer a risk to him. The other time it had gotten away, even though the stab in the heart should have killed him, only when it removed the knife.

Therefore, as long as the knife was in place at its shoulder, he had nothing to fear from the shadow.

But that abomination was not the only thing he had to take into consideration.

His friends. How long would the building hold up under siege, if the soldiers had managed to get back in and they were now having to fight for their lives again.

Abigail, behind the controls of the war machine, who should already be here. Probably.

And the insurmountable enemy army, where each and every one of them wore that new armor designed to take out mages, no doubt.

So many factors.

He couldn't think as much as he wanted to, until he had his head on straight.

No, first of all...

No matter how much he thought, Desmond had a feeling he wouldn't reach an answer.

Caution or pragmatism.

He couldn't say that the right decision was the less risky one, but....

If Abigail were here, surely she would have already told him to finish the job, surely he wouldn't even have considered listening to the shadow's words, taking them for what they probably were.

A crude attempt at manipulation. But...

"Lower the barrier''.

"If you spare my life, I will. I will. I have goals, things precious to me. But there's nothing more precious than my own life."

That's the way it was, huh?

The enemy would never believe he would spare them, so it wouldn't lower the barrier of its own volition.

There was nothing he could do to change that.

Once the shadow lowered the barrier, Desmond would have no reason to allow it to stay alive. That was something the enemy should know as well as he did.

Desmond supposed the fear had taken away its reason, and the creature was entrusting everything to the only hope it saw.

Though it was nothing more than an illusion. A mirage in the desert.

In any case, Desmond's thoughts had been spinning in his head as if he had a choice.

He really didn't. He hadn't had a choice from the beginning.

If the enemy had told him the truth... he would have to face the consequences. And let what had to happen happen.

Desmond swung his sword.

With all his might, he aimed it at the enemy's heart.

No.

With all his strength and more, much more.

Crack.

At the precise instant he plunged the sword into the enemy's chest, his bones crunched.

He broke both arms in the blow.

But not only that, the sword as well.

-What have you done? -the shadow asked, barely able to speak, throat constricted.

Its voice contained all the emotions that its face, if it could be called that, was unable to express.

Fear and surprise.

Mostly surprise. Fear would rule its heart later.

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When the thing realized what had really happened and what situation it was in.

Desmond came closer.

His arms were broken. But not his legs, so he ripped Abigail's knife from his enemy's shoulder with a kick.

As if that was the only thing keeping it still, the shadow began to tremble.

From head to toe, uncontrollably.

-I-I can't... What have you done?

The abomination, though it now only looked like a wounded animal and not particularly threatening, moreover, crawled on the ground.

Trying to get away from him.

With its meager strength, it crawled along the ground, clawing at the earth.

It coughed several times loudly.

It even ended up vomiting blood. It didn't seem to have a mouth, but it must have had one under the darkness, since it had to have come from somewhere. The same principle that allowed it to speak even though it had no mouth.

Panting and grunting, the shadow turned around.

Its movements reminded him of a doll stuffed with straw. Yes, it was no longer a terrifying, gigantic shadow looming over him. Just that, a straw doll.

Something that fit in his hands and he could move as he wished.

Desmond smiled.

-What have you done to me? -it demanded. The darkness of its face, its lips, if it had lips, was stained with blood.

Its chest, too.

It had vomited a large amount of blood and was now in that state. It was to be expected.

This was what Desmond had done.

Like him with the sword he had given her, Abigail and the knife were connected in a magical sense.

No matter where she was, she could always make it come to her hand.

If it broke, it would come to her hands intact. So they had made Christina break her sword and the knife. Then they had put the fragments of the knife inside the sword.

That's why, when Desmond pierced his enemy with so much force that he broke both arms and the sword, the fragments that had remained inside flew out in all directions.

Like the fragments of a bomb.

Abigail had speculated that the previous attempt to kill him had failed because the enemy's true heart wasn't where it was supposed to be.

What he had stabbed had only been a decoy.

It made a certain amount of sense, considering how it could reshape his body.

So that was what had occurred to her.

But Desmond owed his enemy no explanations, so he kept silent.

The plan was apparently working. The thing looked like it was in agony. Desmond didn't think this was an illusion, a way to get him to let his guard down, for whatever reason.

Desmond didn't think it was something that could be faked in any way.

It was dying... That was a fact.

It was only a matter of time.

-Disappear at once, freak," Desmond said, almost as if he was commanding him to.

The mouth. For the first time in all this time, the shadow opened its mouth. Of course it did. Because a moment ago, it hadn't had a mouth.

There was nothing inside its mouth. No teeth, no tongue, or throat opening.

It was like a deep, black abyss. It seemed capable of swallowing anything. Not only physical things. Also sensations or more abstract things.

Like, for example, heat. Like, for example, a man's sanity.

The shadow lunged at him like a rabid dog.

But Desmond dodged it. He dodged at the last moment.

The shadow stopped its fall with its hands. It stood there, crouched on all fours. It was appropriate for a beast to act like one. And laughable.

Desmond hadn't seen teeth inside its mouth. Yes, he had reduced an enemy to a beast without teeth or claws.

As much as it wanted to kill him, it was in no position to reach Desmond no matter how hard it tried.

-"Damn you. Damn you," the enemy repeated over and over again.

Like an incantation. Like a curse. If you could kill someone with pure hatred alone, no doubt Desmond would have fallen dead in the face of its hatred.

Crackling. Loud crunching noises distracted him from his enemy.

Desmond first thought was that they were under fire, that the soldiers had reached them.

But no, it couldn't be that.

The sounds were too loud to be just that. In any case, they really sounded like rustling. Not gunshots.

Desmond looked up, following the sounds that wouldn't stop.

He couldn't believe what he was seeing. The sky above his head was cracking, filling with cracks. The cracks were white as moonlight.

Then, there was a sound like a window popping.

Something changed as a result. No, rather, it returned to normal. He hadn't been aware that there had been anything abnormal, but now he was acutely aware of it.

It felt as if he had been drowning and had managed to pull his head out of the water.

With that burst, the cracks in the sky had disappeared. Because the sky had never cracked, of course. He realized he had just watched the barrier collapsing.

He had made it. The shadow was still alive, but he guessed that its state had weakened the barrier until it could no longer stand on its own.

With his arms broken, he couldn't finish off his enemy.

Desmond could only wait for it to die.

Or for his arms to regenerate, but it was certain that would happen after his enemy had died on its own.

Desmond could wait. And watch. He wasn't going to leave to meet Abigail without having seen it die with his own eyes.

He started to walk. He chased the shadow that was still crawling on the ground.

It moved the soil. But that wasn't the only trail it left behind. Blood. Blood pouring from his mouth, from the wounds on its chest.

Desmond wanted to look into its human eyes as it died.

But, even though the barrier had collapsed, the darkness clinging to its body wasn't clearing. So it seemed that it was not to be.

At that moment...

A hand went to its neck, squeezing. But it was so sudden, so fast, that perhaps the more appropriate word would be "appeared." Desmond hadn't seen it coming at all.

And besides, it didn't make sense.

The enemy was still on the ground. It kept moving away from him, half-dead, agonizing, mad with fear.

Yet he felt something like a hand on his throat.

Slowly strangling him.

He looked around.

It was an arm. Nothing more than that.

As for who it belonged to, it didn't even need to be said.

It was his enemy's arm that he had severed, and nothing more. It could move as if it were still connected to a body, though. And not only that, but exert superhuman strength.

From the arm protruded a tentacle of darkness. That was what lifted it.

And he guessed also the means by which it was controlling it.

Pretending to be weaker than it actually was, the shadow had attacked him by surprise in this way.

But it could not be described as a last ace in the hole.

It was nothing more than a cheap trick it had played for pure indulgence. At best, it would choke him to death.So what? It'd just be wasting time and energy.

It would die anyway and there it would stay, while Desmond would soon rise again.

Maybe it was spite that was driving the creature.

Maybe it didn't know its nature and thought it could at least take the person responsible for its death to hell with it, even if it was cold comfort.

Desmond could do nothing to resist. Not with his arms in that state. He could swing from side to side, but no matter how much strength he put into it, that wouldn't break the thread that bound him.

So he could only let whatever had to happen happen.

With his vision starting to go black, he resigned himself....

Desmond fell to the ground.

After falling among the grass, he heard the gunfire, distorted and distant like the echoes of a lonely scream inside a cavern.

Abigail had arrived, with the restored war machine.

With bullets spitting from the cannons, she had shattered the arm and tentacle of darkness, shattering them to pieces. And freeing him.

Desmond coughed to clear his throat.

-I won, you son of a bitch! You're not going to take that little satisfaction with you! I won!

He proclaimed his victory wildly. Not caring that they might hear him and follow him, cornering him.

No, in the first place, if anyone was going to follow them Abigail had already made plenty of noise on her own.

Not to mention that it was impossible to miss a machine like that.

Desmond rose to his feet. His broken arms hung limply at his sides as if they were made of jelly.

Abigail opened the cockpit. She climbed out and jumped down.

She approached him.

-Good job," she said, and Desmond grinned like an idiot at that simple compliment.

Abigail walked past him.

She hovered over the enemy, who was still crawling on the ground, but weaker and weaker. Beneath her it looked like a large black insect writhing as if to cling to life. A life so small that it could be crushed without the person noticing.

Abigail grabbed the handle of the knife and pulled it out of its shoulder.

The shadow screamed in pain.

There was no danger in this. The fragments of the knife were still inside its chest. Therefore, it couldn't escape even after the knife was withdrawn.

The creature was completely at Abigail's mercy.

Who took it upon herself to finish it off. She plunged the knife into it, again and again, until its voice died in its throat. Until it stopped writhing underneath her.

Abigail rose to her feet.

Quietly, she wiped the knife in the water of the lake, then sheathed it.

-Let's get out of here," she said.

But Desmond disobeyed her for the first time in his life, to approach the shadow lying on the ground.

Not that he feared it wasn't really dead. He had already said why. Desmond wanted to see him unmasked. Wanted to see it human and vulnerable, as a final humiliation to its hated enemy, even if the enemy wasn't conscious to perceive it.

That was all he had intended by approaching this abomination.

Normally he wasn't that kind of person.

However, this enemy had come too close to taking away everything he loved. No, worse.

Of making him end everything he loved with his own hands.

So he needed this.

But nothing he could do to it would seem enough, not really. It couldn't quell his hatred or quench his bloodlust.

But it was done, and that was something.

Was it done?

The darkness clinging to its body, transforming it into a living shadow, was an extension of its magic. It had to be.

It wasn't disappearing, though.

A mage's magic died with the mage. If it hadn't, then...?

-It's not disappearing," Desmond said.

Abigail, who was scaling the war machine to get back to the controls, turned and looked at him while hanging there.

-I see. He has to be dead, though. I can' t hear his heartbeat. And I've stabbed him so many times. Not to mention the knife fragments inside his body, the blood he has vomited.

She must have seen something in his face, because she added the following.

-There is no doubt that he is dead. If we see him again, it will be because he will have been resurrected, like you or me.

Desmond felt a chill.

It was impossible, or at least it should be. The various abilities it had displayed and on top of that? If it had an affinity like that, then that abomination was a being blessed by the gods.

There was no way it would be resurrected. But Desmond wasn't sure it was dead in the first place, despite Abigail's words.

Nor could he be sure it was alive, but....

Desmond bit his lip.

His gaze shifted between Abigail and the fallen enemy.

Abigail, after a moment's deliberation, nodded her head.

-I understand your concern. So very well. I'll do something about it. Come on up here.

Desmond obeyed without complaint this time.

Desmond climbed into the cockpit on the opposite side from Abigail. She was still outside.

She was waiting for him to sit down.

He didn't want to think about it now, but it meant that she was willing to sit on top of him again despite what had happened a moment ago.

Well, him sitting on top of her wouldn't be much better and she needed to see her surroundings clearly.

In reality, she was surely uncomfortable with the idea, she just didn't have a choice. That was what he would like to believe, at least. Yes. As painful as it might be to believe that she was thinking badly of him, it was better than thinking that she hadn't cared at all.

Or, worse, that she....

He shook his head.

It was neither the time nor the place.

Once they were both inside, Abigail closed the hatch.

Then she opened fire. She aimed both guns at the shadow and fired again and again. Until it was torn to shreds.

Now there was no doubt that it was dead.

Abigail steered the war machine back into the building.

The shadow was dead and the barrier was down, but that didn't mean they wouldn't have trouble.

There was a whole army in their way.