Chapter 20: Power of Love?
Noah's throat constricted as if invisible hands had wrapped around his neck. His lungs burned as he clawed at the air, gasping. “Kugh~! C-Can’t… breathe…”
Pompom’s once playful demeanor evaporated like smoke in the wind. His form began to shift, taking on a terrifying new shape. The translucent avatar of before transformed into something tangible, something monstrous. Scales—black as the void between stars—emerged all over his body, covering sinewy muscle and massive, clawed limbs. He became a grotesque amalgamation of man and dragon, towering and oppressive.
When he spoke, it was no longer with a mischievous lilt. His voice was a cacophony of clashing tones—deep, toxic masculinity mixing with mock innocence and an unsettling, warped lovesickness. The sound was incomprehensible, unnatural, and it dug into Noah’s very soul, making him shudder violently.
“Lecherous? Me? Lizard? Me?” Pompom’s distorted voice reverberated through the space, each word laced with venomous scorn. “I am a Dragon, you lowborn piece of filth. Dust—dust—is too grand a title for you in the vastness of the Infinite Worlds!”
Althea, trembling but resolute, raised her staff high. “Let go of him!” she screamed, channeling every ounce of her energy into her strongest spell. Flames roared to life at her fingertips, coalescing into a blazing [Fireball] that burned with searing intensity. She hurled it directly at Pompom.
But the dragon didn’t flinch. With a casual flick of his wrist, the spell reversed course mid-flight. The fireball twisted and arced back toward Althea with terrifying speed, a molten blur of destruction.
Her eyes widened. She barely had time to throw up her arms in a desperate attempt to shield herself before the spell crashed toward her.
Noah’s breath came in ragged gasps, his vision blurring at the edges. Yet his resolve held firm, even as his voice cracked under the strain. “Y-you… won’t get what you want… from me… I… We… aren’t… entertainment…”
Pompom grinned, his jagged teeth gleaming as he leaned closer, his voice dripping with condescension. “You’re right, mortal. I won’t get what I want from you if you’re unwilling to cooperate, and forcing you? Well, that’s so… uninspired. Violating you and your little lady would’ve been a delight, but there’s a greater thrill in seeing you stumble through your own choices—watching as the decisions you think are yours lead to ruin.” His voice twisted with malicious glee. “Freedom? Freedom is an illusion. But oh, how you mortals cling to it. So yes, let’s play a little game. I’ll have my entertainment, whether you want it or not.”
Through the haze of his pain, Noah caught sight of Althea. She had risen shakily to her feet, her trembling hands glowing as she activated [Lover’s Resolve], the soft light mending her injuries. Her face was pale but determined.
“Let him go!” she shouted, her voice raw with desperation. Another [Fireball] flared to life in her palms, fueled by fury and grief, and she hurled it with everything she had.
Pompom’s reaction was instantaneous. With a cruel smile, he twisted Noah into the fireball’s path like a puppet. The explosion engulfed him in flames, and Noah’s scream tore through the air, raw and agonized.
“Noooo!” Althea cried, her voice breaking as she watched in horror. “You monster!”
Pompom released Noah’s charred, burning body, letting it crumple to the ground. Smoke rose from his scorched flesh, his cries subsiding into gasps of agony. He writhed on the floor, his every nerve screaming in torment. Though his [Body] stat had grown through countless battles, it was still that of a mortal. A direct hit from Althea’s spell had left him broken, burned, and barely clinging to life.
“No, no, no… Please, don’t!” Althea sobbed as she fell to her knees beside him, her hands glowing with the frantic activation of [Lover’s Resolve]. Over and over, she cast the healing spell, trying to undo the damage she had unwittingly caused.
For a moment, through the haze of pain and flickering consciousness, Noah’s life flashed before his eyes: his mother’s warm smile, his father’s stern yet loving guidance, his uncle’s boisterous jokes, the teasing camaraderie of his classmates… And then, there was Althea—her laughter, her kindness, and the unwavering support she had always shown him.
Pompom laughed uproariously, his voice filled with venomous amusement. “Go on, Althea! I’m rooting for you, girl! Heal him real good! Do it! Faster, better, harder! Or he’s gonna die right here in your arms!” He clapped mockingly. “Oh, look at him—those eyes of his! He’s having his final moments, all those tragic little flashbacks. Kahahaha! You know what I mean, right? Oh, this is priceless!”
“SHUT UP!” Althea roared, tears streaming down her face as she poured every ounce of her strength into healing Noah. Her hands trembled as the light grew brighter, her fury and sorrow mingling into a desperate plea for his survival.
Noah's senses were shrouded in a haze of pain and disorientation. His vision was dim, his hearing muffled, and yet, somehow, Althea’s frantic voice broke through the chaos, a desperate anchor in his crumbling reality.
“Noah… Noah!” she cried, her voice trembling. “Don’t lose consciousness on me! You promised, didn’t you? That we’d get out of here together! Come on, work! [Lover’s Resolve]!” The glow of her skill pulsed brightly, though the desperation in her tone betrayed her doubts.
From somewhere above, Pompom’s taunting voice cut through her pleas like a knife. “Do you know what fuels skills? Is it stamina? Willpower? Thoughts? Or maybe… there’s some kind of unified, quantified unit behind it, like electricity or heat or something else? Do you think you have what it takes? That by pouring in your precious feelings, you’d somehow save him?”
“SHUT UP!” Althea screamed, her voice raw and breaking. Tears streamed down her face as she continued to channel her skill, willing it to work despite her exhaustion and fear.
Pompom laughed darkly, his voice a toxic blend of mockery and twisted insight. “Oh, sweetheart, I’m giving you advice here. I’m dangling a ray of hope just to watch you fall harder into despair. That’s my style, you see. But let me clue you in on something: there is no unified, quantified value that fuels skills. Some worlds might call it mana, aether, qi… What utter nonsense!” He leaned closer, his grotesque half-dragon form looming. “When I said pouring your feelings might save him, it wasn’t to mock you—though I enjoy that too. It was a rhetorical question, sweetheart. To state a fact.”
Somewhere in the suffocating haze of pain, Noah stirred. Pompom’s words, cruel as they were, echoed in his mind with an unexpected clarity. The dragon was imparting a bitter truth, not as a mercy, but as a weapon to hurt Althea’s psyche. But Pompoom wasn’t lying either.
Skills weren’t just tools—they were alive. They carried history, power, meaning, and purpose. And Noah’s class, Freedom, was no exception.
It wasn’t just a name. It was alive. It embodied struggle, willpower, and resilience. Clinging to that truth, to the very essence of what Freedom represented, Noah reached deep within himself. His body was broken, his spirit battered, but his sheer determination burned like a flickering ember refusing to be snuffed out.
And then, against all odds, his eyes fluttered open. His vision was blurry and openning his eyelids were painful/ The first thing he saw was Althea’s tear-streaked face, her expression twisted with sorrow and guilt as she leaned over him, her hands glowing with the light of her skill.
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Noah tried to speak, but his throat was scorched with pain, his voice reduced to a rasp. He wanted to tell her it wasn’t her fault. That they’d make it through this. That the promise still stood. But all he could do was weakly raise his hand, trembling as it reached for hers.
Pompom loomed closer, his half-dragon form casting a grotesque shadow over the scene. His discordant voice dripped with malice, mocking yet disturbingly insightful. “The skill you’re using is called [Lover’s Resolve], isn’t it?” His tone was a cruel sing-song, layered with poisonous glee. “What do you think fuels it? It’s pretty obvious, isn’t it?”
Althea didn’t respond, her hands trembling as she poured every ounce of her energy into the skill. Tears streaked her face, and though she didn’t say it, the answer was written in her despairing eyes. She already knew. She had always known.
Noah, lying in agony, could guess it too. [Lover’s Resolve] was fueled by love and resolve, two forces that intertwined and reinforced each other. Only when combined and expressed with absolute clarity could they trigger the skill’s true potential—a qualitative change that transformed her raw stats into multipliers instead of mere modifiers.
But that kind of power came at a price.
A price in the form of a blankc check you’d never know how much was in it, unless it had come to expire. It was a cruel joke of how little people had choices on how to wield there power. Like the dragon said,freedom was an illusion.
Noah stared into Althea’s tear-stained eyes, feeling the weight of her heartache as if it were his own. He didn’t need words to understand the pain she was carrying—her guilt, her remorse. She blamed herself for his suffering.’It is just friendly fire you?’ He wanted joke, but couldn’t.
Pompom grinned wider, his fanged maw twisting into a hideous smirk. “Hmmm… does that mean, then,” he mused with exaggerated wonder, “if you can’t heal him, you’re lacking the ‘fuel’? Oh, my darkness dragon balls, how tragic! This poor, unfortunate young man… he died for you, didn’t he?” He paused, savoring the anguish rippling through Althea’s face. “Ah, correction… is dying for you.”
The dragon’s voice oozed false pity as he tilted his head. “Isn’t that a lovely little story? The selfless hero sacrifices himself for the love of his life… only for her to fail him in his final moments… because she lacks to the fuel? Tell me, sweetheart, does that guilt taste sweet? Or maybe… bitter?”
Noah wanted to scream, to tell Althea not to listen to the monster’s words. But his throat was too raw, his body too broken. All he could do was watch as Pompom’s lies seeped into her heart, feeding on her vulnerability. Her hands shook harder, her sobs growing louder. She wasn’t just fighting to save him now—she was fighting against the despair that threatened to swallow her whole.
“Come on, girl,” Pompom cooed, his voice dripping with cruel amusement. “Give it your all. Pour everything you’ve got into it. Maybe—just maybe—it’ll be enough. Or maybe…” His grin widened, his voice dropping to a low, venomous whisper. “Maybe it won’t. And then what will you be left with? Nothing but the knowledge that you weren’t strong enough to save the one you loved.”
Althea’s voice was a fierce declaration, trembling but unyielding as she cradled Noah closer to her. “To pour my feelings… that’s exactly what I’m going to do. Watch this, you filthy dragon. I’m not going to let Noah die today!”
Pompom leaned back with mock surprise, his jagged teeth gleaming in the dim light. “Oh, shit. Are you some fairytale’s heroine?” he sneered, his laugh echoing like fractured glass. “Kakakakaka~! Unfortunately, this isn’t some story you can just brute force because you feel like it. Nurturing your feelings, cultivating your power, expressing your existence to the world… you think you’ve got the guns for that, sweetheart?”
Ignoring the dragon’s venomous taunts, Althea tightened her hold on Noah, her voice steadying into a determined whisper. “I won’t let you die, Noah. I want you to live, so that you can answer to my feelings. I want to hear it from your own mouth.” Her cheeks flushed as her emotions surged. “And there is no way in hell I’m going to survive this only to suffer heartbreak later, so listen very well—”
The pink flames surrounding her grew brighter, flickering and expanding with a life of their own. They shimmered, forming ethereal shapes, and as if responding to the strength of her resolve, three fox tails materialized within the flames, swaying gently like extensions of her very soul.
“I like you…” Althea’s voice softened, but the raw emotion in her words resonated like a battle cry. “I am head over heels for you. And you must know, it wasn’t always like that. I’ve been an outcast at school because of my pink hair. People thought I dyed it, called me a delinquent, a wannabe. They thought I was acting tough because I wanted to rebel, but the truth is… I’m a faker. A poser. I’m scared of a lot of things. I’ve always felt like a freak after getting entangled with so many [Dungeon Calls]. The dungeons changed my hair, and it felt like they changed me too. I haven’t always had pink hair, you know… It’s part of why I thought I’d never belong.”
Her voice faltered for a moment, her blush deepening, but she pressed on. “And then there’s you. You might be a nerd, but you’re a cool nerd. Always on top of your game, always knowing just what to say to make me feel better. You make me feel… normal. Like I’m not a freak. Like I’m someone who deserves to smile.”
The intensity of her emotions electrified the air, transforming her confession into something almost ceremonial, like a vow. The pink flames surged higher, forming five radiant fox tails that swirled protectively around her. A pair of fox-like ears emerged atop her head, completing the transformation as her magic reached a new height.
Pompom stared, his mocking grin faltering into a grimace. “Motherfucker.”
Althea didn’t hear him. Her focus was solely on Noah, who lay motionless in her arms. Slowly, she leaned forward, her heart pounding as her blush deepened. “I’m sorry for doing this… but I need to heal you right now,” she whispered, and before her courage wavered, she pressed her lips to his.
In an instant, a radiant burst of energy erupted from her, enveloping both of them in an aura of brilliant pink light. The flames surged, their heat no longer destructive but life-giving, pouring vitality into Noah’s battered body. His burns faded, his breathing steadied, and the color returned to his pale skin.
It was as if her kiss had revived him from the brink of death… like a fairytale given form.
Noah’s senses flickered back to life as though from a dream. He felt the faint, warm brush of lips against his, their sweetness lingering in an aftertaste that was both gentle and electrifying. Her touch surrounded him in a tender embrace, the pressure light yet grounding. He heard the rhythmic beat of her heart, soft yet insistent, matching his own. The air carried the mingled scents of fire and blooming flowers, faintly comforting amidst the chaos.
His vision sharpened, settling on her eyes—clear brown with glimmers of gold, shimmering with relief and lingering worry.
He opened his mouth to speak, but before words could form, his body began to rise. Slowly, gently, like gravity had loosened its grip on him. Althea’s gaze shifted upward, disbelief flashing across her face as she stammered, “Why… are you flying?”
Noah glanced at himself, bewildered. “I… I don’t know. I feel this faint impression that my ‘skill’ and ‘class’ are happy.”
Althea blinked, the flush of embarrassment from her earlier confession creeping back onto her face. “Huh~!? You mean… it felt that good you started levitating?”
A choking sound escaped Pompom, who stood nearby, visibly struggling to contain himself. Then the dam broke, and his laughter erupted in a cacophony of discordant tones. “Bwahaha~! Oh, this is rich! I never thought I’d see kids in my own prison with such fine attunement to their skills and class. Oh my god, those shadowy mooks among the higher-ups would have a heart attack at the thought of another rebellion brewing! Kahahahaha~! These kids are fucking deviants!”
Noah and Althea turned to him, their baffled expressions a synchronized mix of irritation and suspicion. “What are you talking about?” they demanded almost in unison.
Pompom waved a claw dismissively, his mirth still shaking his frame. “Don’t mind me! You’ve already given me plenty of entertainment… but it’s still not enough! I’m an evil dragon, remember? And evil dragons are greedy! Now, onto the main course!”
Noah felt his stomach drop as Pompom’s eyes gleamed with malice. The dragon grinned, his jagged teeth bared. “You two lovebirds are going to fuck each other’s brains out right here, right now. Team power of love! If you don’t strip and start getting down to business in the next five seconds, I’ll castrate the boy and see where your precious ‘resolve’ gets you then!”
A beat of silence.
Noah and Althea froze, their minds scrambling to process what they’d just heard.
“W-what!?” Althea sputtered, her face rapidly shifting from crimson embarrassment to white-hot fury.
Noah, equally stunned, choked out, “You can’t be serious! What the hell is wrong with you!?”
The dragon’s grin widened, his tone dark and mocking. “Oh, I’m very serious. This is a prison, kiddos, not your feel-good coming-of-age story. I don’t do the whole ‘let the plucky heroes go to progress the plot’ bullshit. I’m the kind of villain who keeps the heroes on their toes. Now, MOVE IT! Or one of you loses their reproductive options, starting with the boy. I’ll even count for you—five, four—”
The duo exchanged a look, utterly aghast. The atmosphere was completely wrong for this. Shouldn’t this be the part where the clearly undefeatable villain decided to let them go for some inexplicable reason? Wasn’t there supposed to be a Deus Ex Machina to save the day right about now? Why was this dragon such a depraved lunatic?
“Three! Two!” Pompom’s voice rose with manic glee. “Come on, kids! No dallying! MAKE IT HAPPEN!”
The dragon loomed over them, his grin a cruel promise. Noah and Althea knew one thing for sure: this wasn’t going to end well.