Leonhardt and Althea walked through the forest, their pace measured, and their hearts heavy. Leonhardt was seething, formulating ways to kill the abomination as painfully as possible—If it felt any.

Leonhardt's pain was Althea's pain, so she mulled on possibilities, of what could happen, and what to do, leaving her in vertigo over whether she should have pulled Leonhardt back, or played it safe.

What stressed her out more was the fact that Max was still at the base, since that was the safest place to put him. Thinking about timelines where they died, and that Max would be left alone was a jarring thought.

Yet they continued, steps measured.

The land was forgettable, its natural wonder overpowered by its everyday visage. Yet they remembered. Every single tree, movement, and animal that was encountered, was noted in their minds.

Leonhardt wasn't the type to get angry, as he could count the number of times he had been this angry. Let alone anger, he didn't feel very much emotion at all—until he met Althea.

His family, for their great bloodline, had a fitting curse. While their strength was great, their emotions would slowly freeze over, their progress and lives slowing down as a result… freezing.

Her gentle flame mended his heart, which was used to shielding itself with a shell of ice. The more he met her, the more his life seemed to brighten. Althea was all too happy to see him warming up to her, and he was happy, the most he had ever been.

Just like Leonhardt, Althea's family had a similar curse. Their fire was living, and it had a will of its own. As they got stronger in their path of flame, the fire's will would slowly grow to fight their own, and in some cases, win.

Leonhardt's calming presence eased her flame, and she also felt as if a looming presence, an ever-present burden lifted.

These thoughts lessened the weight on their minds, and hearts alike.

Yet Leonhardts rage lessened no less. He only got more infuriated, with himself. He wanted to leave Althea, to handle the situation by himself. But he was too weak. He had to enlist the help of someone who he would protect.

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And endanger both of the lights of his life.

The crystals of his ice shimmered with a teal glow, each crystal returning more rigid, more dense, more powerful.

The Bifrost name carried a deeper meaning, which both Max and Leonhardt wouldn't figure out for times to come.

Yet this realization came at a cost. A detestable rotting spread in their direction. It had found them.

Leonhardt's eyes widened, his cyan hair flowing. His mana grew visible, and Althea caught on.

Her red hair crackled, whipping in the wind. Their faces contorted in focus, as two beams of mana descended upon them, like the eyes of a god.

Yet a purple undertone resided in the beams. As they subsided, Althea and Leonhardt both stood, strong. More powerful than ever.

Unbeknownst to them, Max's eyes also glinted with a red and blue glow, resonating with his parents.

Yet the base had other things to focus on. The beams in the sky were close, and considering the strength of the people in the battle, it was in their best interest to hunker down and stay safe.

Yet Althea and Leonhardt were confused. Both of them stood 40 meters tall, larger than their normal forms.

Althea's original form made her look like a fairy—or a fiery as Leonhardt liked to joke. Her crimson hair lit on fire, her body lit with a flame that burnt anyone unlucky enough to be her foe. Her skin would be brimming with a vermilion undertone, and her back sprouted a pair of beautiful wings, that looked like a solid flame-colored aurora.

Yet something was different. Her body was covered in an ice armor, which extended a skeleton to her wings. It made for a beautiful image, as the ice refracted the light from her fire, making the entire landscape rainbow, though these lights would also ignite the land.

For Leonhardt, his armor was much more jagged, embracing its crystalline nature. His gloves were coated in a blue fire, with spikes on the knuckles. His two swords became serrated, and the fire within them seemed to focus on the edges, to freeze and burn simultaneously.

While the frost-flame pair was certainly menacing, their opponent was no less horrifying.

It was a shambling monstrosity, its figure looking like a squid from the deepest depths of the ocean, the closest thing to the void. Its 10 lower limbs carried it across the lands, releasing a putrid trail of void behind. It was colored with something darker than black, which didn't make it look dark, but like the void which it came from.

The abhorrent figure had milky white dots all around its body, which were seemingly eyes. Its movements were also… wrong. It didn't seem to follow the laws of physics well, and it seemed clumsy as if it wasn't used to the world that it was in. Its joints floated in the air, moving separately from each other, like a mockery of true life; Pretending to live.

And behind it, a privilege only the strongest of abyssal weapons had—the horde. The odious void had consumed poor beasts that happened to be in the way.

Their eyes were hollow, and their bodies twisted and warped, mutated in painful ways.

Looking at them reminded Leonhardt of Elias, his older brother. Who sacrificed himself to the worst fate a human could have, for him.

It filled him with rage.