Fourier felt a pain in his bones as he moved through the palace halls, towards the rooms that had been commandeered for the medics.

It was like his skeleton was burning, but it was mild enough that he could still power through it. At least, he could for the time being. But who knew how long that would last?

He was still running on all fours, but now that he wasn’t distracted by the urgency of the situation, he allowed some of his attention to focus on himself.

His nails had started shifting, elongating and sharpening, as if growing into claws. Having clawed hands was probably a bad look for a human king, but it did make it a bit easier to find purchase on the polished floors.

He reached an intersection, and slowed, peering around the corner, searching for any signs of life.

Luckily, this section of the palace seemed to be abandoned. Fourier didn’t really want to have to explain to the palace guards why he was running around on all fours while completely nude.

With how his body had deformed, there was even the possibility that they wouldn’t recognise him, and assume he was some kind of assassin.

The coast was clear, but Fourier had discovered another problem. He had stopped moving, and now his muscles were starting to sting and tense up, the short rest giving him the chance to properly feel how tired he was.

He grit his teeth, and forced himself to start moving again.

He wasn’t going to allow himself to collapse in the middle of a hallway. Julius would probably have a panic attack, and Crusch would scold him.

Though truthfully, he didn’t think he was going to get away from that second one. He hadn’t taken bodyguards with him in his mad dash to get to the mirrors, and he was practically crawling his way back. If another assassin were to jump out of the woodwork, even one half as competent as Elsa was, Fourier was sure his life would come to a swift end.

Were there knights assigned to guard the injured? If there was the possibility that he would bring the ire of assassins with him, they would need competent guardians. But he couldn’t recall the details of who had been assigned there. His head had started to ache terribly.

…he should probably get to the medics as soon as possible.

Thankfully, his entire journey back was uneventful.

As he reached the last stretch, he reached out with one hand, claws tearing into the wall as he hauled himself to his feet.

It felt wrong. Not unnatural, but odd. He wasn’t used to the way his body had shifted, and he had no balance.

He took a hesitant step, and almost fell flat on his face.

He took a breath, and looked at his feet, carefully lifting one leg, and placing it in front of the other, and only then putting his weight on it.

He still stumbled.

Fourier bit back an annoyed growl, and shifted his stance, trying to find a way to stand that felt most comfortable.

The standard fully upright posture he had cultivated as a member of royalty wasn’t working, but perhaps he could maintain his balance if he experimented.

It took a minute, but Fourier eventually found an arrangement that wasn’t too bad. His knees were bent, and his upper body was angled slightly forward, making him look rather unrefined, but he could take slow steps on the balls of his feet, which made the posture worth it. It was better than crawling, at least.

He was so focused on making sure he didn’t fall over, he almost missed the cry of alarm, and then the shocked exclamation of, “Your Majesty?”

Fourier looked up to see a pair of his knights, both rushing over to him. One hastily removed his mantle and threw it over Fourier’s shoulders, while the other put his hand on his sword and moved to guard Fourier’s back.

The first knight crouched so that he could support Fourier with his shoulder, and Fourier gratefully accepted the help.

“What happened?” the knight asked. “Where’s your armour?”

“It melted off,” Fourier stated dryly. “It turns out I was more heat-proof than it.”

The knight blinked at him, seemingly confused that Fourier was joking in their current situation, but Fourier maintained his serious gaze.

The knight’s face paled. “You went into the heart of the fire? But— No, I apologise. It is not my place to question your actions.”

Fourier winced. “No, your thoughts are correct. It was foolish of me. But I needed to finish my speech to the people. I couldn’t leave them without hope.”

Truthfully, it wasn’t a very good excuse, but the knights seemed to accept it. Whether that was because they agreed with him, or they simply knew he wouldn’t change his mind, Fourier couldn’t say, though he suspected it was the latter.

They helped him through the door to the temporary hospital, and healers instantly started swarming him.

“Someone fetch a set of clothes for His Majesty,” the knight supporting Fourier ordered. “And stand back, his condition is not so serious that he cannot be laid down first.”

The healers backed off, and Fourier was half walked, half dragged to one of the empty beds. He held back a grimace as he saw who was laying in the bed next to it.

“Your Majesty?” Julius asked. Bandages were wrapped around his body, covering the wounds on his arms, head, and midsection. No doubt there were more wrapped around his legs under the blanket.

There was a smile on his lips, but the tension on his face and the slight furrow of his brow revealed that he was anything but pleased.

“It is good to see you are unharmed,” he said. “However… I can’t help but notice you lack your armour, and I was told you travelled to the mirror room without knights accompanying you for protection.”

“It was important,” Fourier protested weakly as he was lowered onto the bed. The knight who had supported him then beat a hasty retreat, clearly wanting to be out of the way of Julius’s ire.

Alas, Fourier’s knights would protect him from any dangerous enemies, but protecting him from his friends? That was too much to ask.

“Important enough that you had to go charging into the fire?” Julius pressed. “That you had to risk being hunted down by any other assassins that might still be lurking around?”

Fourier hesitated, gathering his thoughts. A handful of medics kneeled beside the bed and began to conjure healing orbs to investigate his body, but they left the space between him and Julius clear so he could continue to talk to his knight.

“You won’t like this…” Fourier finally started, “but yes, I believe so. I’m not sure you heard how my speech to the people ended, but suffice to say, I was interrupted at the most inopportune time possible. Had I left things as they were, the citizens would only know that Volcanica has been killed, and they would fear for my own life. If both the Divine Dragon and the last member of the Royal Family were to be taken away from them in the same instant, while the city crumbles around them, I can’t imagine the terror that would bring.”

He shook his head. “I had to reassure them that I still lived, and that our enemies would fail. For the sake of their hope, I had to do it.”

Julius stared at him, eyes boring into his own, until finally he appeared to relent. “Very well. If you think it was necessary, then it is not my place to question it.”

“However,” he said, and the smile he was wearing became a touch more sinister, “I shall be informing Lady Crusch and Sir Ferris about this. I am not so sure that they will be as accepting as I am.”

Fourier grimaced. “I will not try to hide from the consequences of my actions. It is true that my chosen course of action was dangerous, and I am sure that those two will do their best to impress that fact upon me.”

Julius nodded. “Though, I am still curious. What happened to your armour? I doubt you just decided to take it off for no reason.”

“It melted off in the heat of the fire,” Fourier said. “I had not realised the mirror room had reached such temperatures.”

Julius blinked, seemingly struggling to comprehend Fourier’s words. “It… it melted?”

Fourier nodded.

“It melted… while you were wearing it?”

Fourier nodded again.

“And you didn’t notice!?” Julius asked incredulously, his raised voice drawing fierce looks from the surrounding healers.

Fourier smiled and held up his hand, exposing the sharp claws that had appeared at the tips. “As you can see, the changes this foreign mana is subjecting me to are… unusual. I was not aware of the heat. In fact, it felt only mildly warmer to me than this room does.”

“On that note,” one of the healers said, standing upright and dismissing his healing orb, “the mana’s influence on you is significant, and has been drastically increased by your reliance on it. Even if we manage to get it under control, your body…”

He hesitated, then sighed. “Perhaps Sir Felix will be able to do something to cover it up. At the very least, we should be able to do something about the claws.”

“Just do what you can,” Fourier said. “Working together, I’m sure Ferris and Roswaal will be able to figure this out.”

“As you say, Your Majesty,” the healer said. “I believe we have managed to contain the influence of the mana for the time being. Once the situation in the city is—”

The healer was interrupted by the sound of an explosion, like a crack of thunder coming from just outside the room.

“To arms!” a voice shouted from outside. “There’s a swarm! Barricade the doo—”

The voice was drowned out by another thundercrack, but the healers were already moving, gathering spare blankets and stuffing them into the gaps around the door. Fourier didn’t think blankets would do much to stop insects that could tear flesh from bone, but it would slow them down, which may be all they needed.

Fourier heard a creak, and turned his head to see Julius unsteadily getting out of bed, his six spirits coming into existence behind him.

“Sir Julius, you shouldn’t move—” one of the healers started, but Julius silenced him with a look.

“I will defend His Majesty. I have enough strength to do that. Who else is capable of offensive magic?”

Four hands went up, and Julius waved them over.

“Whoever among you can use Huma, freeze the door. But leave a gap for them to crawl through. We want them coming through one by one, not deciding that it would be easier to eat through the walls.”

The air lit up as the healers cast their spells, creating a wall of ice that sealed all sides of the door, leaving only a tiny passage at the bottom.

“Who has the mirror?” Julius asked, and one of the healers lifted a hand, his hand fumbling within his robes to try and find the metia.

“Try and contact help,” Julius said. “But make sure they know not to approach without mages. Marcos should still be close to the palace, try and get in contact with him if you can.”

The healer nodded, and crouched down, opening the mirror and starting to speak rapidly in a hushed voice.

Fourier heard several more bursts of magic from outside, seeing the ice barrier light up red each time with light leaking from around the door.

Then the blasts stopped, and the room’s occupants held their breaths.

After a long moment, Fourier saw something emerge from under the doorway, then Julius’s sword sprang forward, a silver blur destroying all in its path.

The doorway was too distant from Fourier for him to properly make it out, but he wouldn’t be surprised if Julius had managed to perfectly bisect the insect. Even injured, his skill with the sword was phenomenal.

They waited a moment more, but no further insects emerged.

Julius tsked.

“They’re being smarter. That one must have been a scout.”

He turned his head so he could address the room, and said, “Everyone, be on the lookout for any insects that sneak in. They might come from the cracks between the floors and the walls, around the windows, or they might tunnel in from the walls.”

Fourier glanced around the room, seeing the medics and quite a few of the patients doing the same. Despite Julius’s warning, he thought the window would be relatively safe, as that entire wall was solid stone, and no insect could burrow through that. At least, not in a timely manner.

There was the possibility that they’d get through the glass like they had just before Crusch had found the first swarm, but given that they would see the insects as they dissolved it, Fourier didn’t think that method of entry would catch them by surprise.

The medics and healers without access to offensive magic began moving the beds away from the walls, slowly dragging them all to the centre of the room to expose the walls.

They got about half-way through moving the beds when the second insect appeared, flying in from under the door in the same way the first one had.

It flew up, outside the range of Julius’s sword, but one of the healers snapped out a spell, freezing it in a shard of ice.

“Another scout,” Julius called out. “Keep moving the beds.”

The knight was acting strong, but Fourier could see a slight tremble in his arms. Julius had been injured badly in his fight with Elsa, and although the healers had worked wonders, he still needed time to rest in bed. He wasn’t in any shape to be standing as he was, sword in hand, ready to strike at any moment.

But Fourier held his tongue. Even injured, Julius was the best fighter among them.

“Marcos knows!” the healer with the conversing mirror called out. “He’s on his way, and he’s bringing mages. He says he’ll be here soon!”

Julius nodded, but his eyes were still locked on the doorway.

Two of his spirits had vanished from his side, Aro and Nes. Fourier guessed that the knight had sent his Wind and Yin spirits out to check the outside of the room.

Whatever his spirits saw, it couldn’t be good. Julius had a frown stuck to his face, and his lips were pursed.

Minutes passed, and finally, all the beds had been moved. The room’s occupants waited with bated breath, ears straining to pick up any hint of buzzing wings.

Julius gestured to the walls around the door.

“They’re chewing through the walls,” he said. “Try and freeze that side. You don’t need to block it completely, but if we can slow them down, we might buy enough time for Marcos to get here.”

Two of the healers obliged, creating a thin sheet of ice over the walls to either side of the doorway. Once done, they stepped back to join the other healers. They were twitchy, jumping at every slight creak and crack from the walls.

Most of the room’s other occupants were the same, but it looked much worse to have their defenders feeling so nervous.

Fourier drew in a breath, ready to say something, anything that would bolster their nerves, but before he could even think of how to start, Julius hissed, his head snapping up to look at the ceiling.

“Back!” he bit out, darting away himself. “They’ve gotten into the wall, it’s difficult to tell where they’re going to come from.”

One of the healers raised a hand to freeze the roof, but Julius grabbed his hand.

“No, the supports won’t be enough to keep up the extra weight. Prepare your spells for when they get through.”

He turned his attention back to the ceiling. Fourier could see him shifting his stance, his sword going still as he prepared to lash out, his spirits hanging in the air around him.

It was almost anti-climatic when the first insect broke through.

The wasp burst into the room with a cloud of wood shavings, shot out towards the patients on the beds, and Julius’s sword swept out to cut it in two.

The second and third wasps didn’t fare any better, but the fourth was joined by four others.

The healers panicked, lifting their hands and stuttering, but before they could cast their spells, Julius whirled, his sword sweeping out to cut two of them out of the air, his hand reaching up so he could cast, “Goa.”

The remaining three flew directly into the path of the flames, and were burnt to ashes in an instant.

For a minute, the room was quiet and still.

Then the insects began pouring from the ceiling in a downpour, shooting towards the beds so quickly that Fourier barely had time for his eyes to widen before—

“Goa!” Julius’s voice rang out, and the room seemed to burst into flames.

Fourier heard some screams and shouts of alarm as the healers began rushing to put out the fires on the beds before they could injure the patients.

But he wasn’t paying attention to them. His eyes were focused on Julius.

The knight was radiating bright white flames, seemingly a combination magic of Fire and Yang, that was setting all the nearby insects alight. His sword was still sweeping out, but rather than cutting individual insects, now he was trying to spread the flame as much as possible.

The burning insects fell to the ground, starting new fires wherever they landed, though the healers seemed able to keep them under control.

But Julius couldn’t hold back every insect. Fourier could see one that managed to make it through the gauntlet, weaving over the beds and charging him.

Fourier grit his teeth, raising a clawed hand to try and grab it out of the air…

But before it reached him, it jerked to the side, and was blown apart.

Fourier blinked, trying to see the source of his defence. Julius was still using his flames, and the healers were putting out fires. Not to mention, water magic couldn’t do something like that in the first place.

He scanned the room, wondering if one of the patients had been hiding the ability to use Wind magic, but as he did so, he spotted a green glow out of the corner of his eye.

He glanced down, and spotted two dots hanging in the air, one bright and green, one dark and black.

“Aro and Nes?” Fourier asked. The two spirits wavered in the air slightly, but Fourier didn’t have nearly enough spiritual affinity to understand them. Julius’s two spirits he had sent out to scout had returned, but they had not gone back to their master.

Which could only mean…

“Julius assigned you two to defend me,” Fourier whispered, barely audible over the crackling of flames, the shouts of alarm, and the buzzing of wings.

The spirits wavered some more. Fourier took that as a yes.

Fourier initially felt a frustrated resignation welling up inside him, that his position as the Ruler made him more worth defending than the myriad patients around him, but as he watched two more insects slip through the flames and burst apart against the spirits’ defence, he felt that frustration fade away.

The insects were ignoring the others completely.

He watched one dart around a healer in order to get a clear shot at Fourier, only to be ripped to shreds once it got close enough.

Indeed, it seemed every single insect was the same. Not a single one was trying to get to the exposed patients or even the healers trying to keep the fires down. Their efforts were entirely focused on getting to Fourier.

Fourier had no doubt that Julius would not have changed his actions even if the insects had been targeting the patients, but since they were safe, he allowed himself to relax a little.

Even if one or two insects did manage to break through the spirits’ shield, what could they do? They needed huge swarms working in concord to tear flesh from bone, and the only swarm present was currently being burned to ashes by Julius.

As Julius began cleaning up the last of the survivors, the few insects that had managed to get past him gathered together, then charged Fourier all at once, likely in an effort to overwhelm the spirits’ shield with numbers.

Aro and Nes moved up into the path of the insects, and Fourier saw the air flicker as they poured more mana into the shield.

The insects didn’t slow, and rammed into the shield, two dozen in all. The first wave was blown apart instantly, but every successive wasp got further and further through the defensive spell, causing the spirits to drift backwards, getting closer to Fourier.

If there had been more of them, perhaps they would have been able to get all the way through, but as they were, they barely got within a handspan of him before the last one was sliced out of the air.

“Huma!” Julius cried out, and the fires died down all at once.

The air was still for a moment, the room’s occupants listening intently for any hint of buzzing wings. But there wasn’t a single sound.

The fearful atmosphere of the room began to brighten, and a few of the occupants raised their voices in a hesitant cheer.

The positivity was infectious, and after a moment, others began to join in, the hesitation falling away to be replaced by exuberant relief at having survived.

Fourier saw Julius’s shoulders slump almost imperceptibly, but the knight tried not to let his weariness show.

“That appears to have been the last of them,” he said, quieting the celebrations. “Healers, you can return to taking care of your patients. But I would ask that everyone be wary. That may not be the last swarm that reaches our position before Marcos gets here.”

That quelled the joy in the room somewhat, and Fourier shot Julius an exasperated frown.

Julius ignored him, carefully making his way back to his bed.

Once he reached it, Fourier gave him another look, trying to convey a question with only his expression.

How are you feeling?

Julius grimaced.

“I can fight if I need to,” he mouthed back, not willing to voice the words. There was no need to let the others know that he was so close to his limit.

Fourier sighed. He was glad that Julius seemed mostly okay, but he was certain that his knight had pushed himself in his defence of the room. Hopefully he wouldn’t need to do so again.

He closed his eyes, his mind replaying the swarm’s attack. Something about it was bothering him. He had a feeling there was something that didn’t quite add up in the swarm’s actions, a doubt that wouldn’t go away.

They were acting intelligently, Fourier thought. So the insect controller must have been directing their actions. Then… why did they just charge me?

Surely they would have known that it was pointless? That rather than charging him in a stream, it would have been better to come at him from many directions?

But even if they did that, they didn’t have the numbers to overwhelm the shield, and even if they had, they didn’t have the numbers to hurt me badly.

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

They had to have known that… so then, their real goal with the charge would have been—

His thoughts cut off as he felt a sudden sharp pain in his hand.

He looked down, and saw one of the wasps, still alive and crawling on the bed, its stinger embedded in his flesh.

Too late, he realised what had happened. While the spirits had been distracted by the charging wasps in the air, one of the wasps had landed and crawled underneath the shield, and then slowly made its way towards him

Fourier’s other hand snapped out and grabbed the wasp, crushing it and flinging it away.

“What was that?” Julius asked, and Fourier heard his bed creak as the knight returned to his feet.

“One of them snuck through,” Fourier said, lifting his hand to examine the wound, trying to see if the stinger had remained in his skin. “It stung me, but I think I’m fine.”

That was a lie. Fourier’s mind was racing, fitting this attack into the rest of the swarm’s actions.

He had thought it strange that they would still try so desperately to get to him in such low numbers, that even if they had reached him, they wouldn’t be able to kill him like how they had the various victims of the slums.

But he had overlooked one vital piece of information.

Wasps were venomous.

The goal was to kill him, not eat him, and a single insect was more than capable of that.

“I may have been poisoned,” Fourier said. “Could I get a healer to look over the wound?”

Julius hissed, and Fourier heard the whipping of fabric as people began to move.

One of the healers was by his side in an instant, pushing him back onto the bed so he lay flat.

“Do you feel anything?” the man asked, already conjuring a healing orb over his hand. “Any pain, or any numbness?”

“No pain,” Fourier replied, forcing his muscles to relax as he felt the healing magic start to intrude. The foreign mana from the staff didn’t seem to like the mana of healers, and it was trying to resist the man’s healing.

“There does seem to be a bit of numbness, though,” he continued, moving his fingers slightly so he could get a better feel for them. “In my thumb and the side of my hand.”

The healer nodded, but he seemed somewhat distracted. His brows were furrowed, and beads of sweat had started to appear on his forehead.

“It doesn’t seem to be poison,” the man said. “As far as I can tell… the insect injected something that greatly resembles blood into your veins.”

He paused.

“In fact, I am almost sure it is blood,” the healer continued. “Usually that wouldn’t be too harmful even in the worst case… but just in case, I’ll remove it.”

The light of his healing orb intensified, and Fourier felt a chill go through his body.

After a moment, the light dimmed, and the healer withdrew his hands, a small bead of red floating above them.

He held it out to his side, and an assistant quickly approached with a pail for him to place it into.

“I’ve removed the majority of it,” the healer said. “But some has spread too thin in your bloodstream to filter it out. I don’t detect anything unusual though.”

Fourier tried moving his hand again to check on the numbness, but when he did, he found that his fingers wouldn’t move as he wanted them to. In fact, he wasn’t entirely sure he could properly feel some of his arm.

“I think the numbness is spreading,” he said, drawing a worried look from the healer. “It’s going up my arm, around half-way to my elbow—”

Pain shot through his entire arm, like someone had just injected acid into his bloodstream, and he gasped, cutting his words short.

“Your Majesty!?” the healer exclaimed, the blue light of his magic brightening as he poured more mana into it.

“What happened?”

Fourier could see Julius now, standing at the other side of the bed. He wanted to scowl and order the knight back to bed, he was in no condition to be on his feet. But Fourier knew that if he opened his mouth again, he might scream from the pain.

“I don’t know!” the healer answered Julius. “He suddenly started convulsing, but I can’t see anything wrong! There’s no poison, no injuries!”

He was convulsing? Fourier started paying more attention to his body, and found that he was indeed. His muscles were twitching wildly, though he couldn’t properly feel his right side. The acid had started to spread through his midsection, churning his internal organs. It squelched through his body like mud. It was slow, making every part of him it reached feel heavy and numbing every sensation except the pain.

When it reached his heart, he had to bite his lip hard enough to draw blood in order to keep from screaming.

Then, when the pain had become almost unbearable, a surge of mana washed over him, setting fire to the poison and purging it from his body..

He gasped.

The feeling of the mana was discomforting, but whatever it was, it had helped to abate the pain. In fact, he could probably now talk without biting his own tongue off.

“Whatever that was, it helped,” he said. His voice sounded weak. Almost as weak as when he had been bedridden for months.

“What helped?” Julius asked, his face coming closer to Fourier’s. He looked concerned.

“That wasn’t me!” the healer cried. “The foreign mana in his body just went haywire! I can’t control it!”

The foreign mana?

Fourier frowned, opening his mouth to ask another question, but all that came out was a sudden yelp as the mud returned in full force.

It was more liquid now, moving faster and lashing out at myriad parts of his body, causing pain to wrack his body.

The mana lashed out in turn, setting the mud alight, and this time, Fourier had the presence of mind to notice that it was indeed the foreign mana that had formerly resided in the sceptre.

It had withdrawn from whatever it was doing to his body, and was now fighting back against the invading poison. It was keeping him alive, but…

Another wave of acid surged through his body, attacking the parts of his body the foreign mana was strongest in. It felt like he was being impaled by a rain of arrows.

The foreign mana responded in kind, the two titanic powers brawling it out, with Fourier’s body as a battleground.

The healer cursed, and the healing light intensified.

“He’s bleeding internally,” he said “I think the mana is damaging his internals. I’ll have to try and contain it—”

“Don’t!” Fourier bit out. “It’s keeping the wasp’s poison back.”

“There is no poison!” the healer protested. “I can’t sense anything! Perhaps the wasp tricked the mana into attacking your body?”

Fourier heard a sharp intake of breath, and his eyes swivelled to Julius.

The Finest Knight met his eyes, realisation on his face.

“It’s the same as your illness!” he said. “That must be why it’s undetectable with healing magic! In, Nes!”

Fourier’s eyes widened as the words sunk in. He had known that someone had cursed him and his family without them noticing. Roswaal said it had to be transmitted with physical contact, so they had assumed that they had shaken hands with an assassin at some point.

But if insects could also inflict the curse, then perhaps they had never even seen the assassin. Perhaps they had been infected and they all simply thought it had been mere bug bites.

His eyes focused on Julius again, watching the swirling motes of mana in the air as Julius called on the power of his Yin and Yang spirits.

Julius held a hand over Fourier’s body, and closed his eyes.

Fourier felt the spirits’ mana sink into him, and then it did… something. He recognised the feeling. It was the same as the feeling of Roswaal’s magic, from when he had first healed the curse.

However, unlike that time, the magic didn’t seem to be able to exorcise the pain.

“I can’t get a grip on it,” Julius said, his voice soft in an effort to keep from being overheard. “This is… different. It’s not like the examples Roswaal showed me.”

He opened his eyes and shot a look at someone standing outside of Fourier’s vision.

“Get a message to our forces in the city! We need Margrave Mathers and Sir Felix here now! This is the top priority!”

----------------------------------------

The sounds of laboured breathing filled the deserted grounds as Crusch slowly made her way forward, leaning heavily on the wall for support, each step taking ever increasing amounts of willpower to continue.

A part of her wondered why she was even moving at all, her final blow had been a whirlwind of mana and noise, doubtlessly a scout would be dispatched to find out just what had happened, and by leaving the area she was simply making it more difficult to be found, especially in the condition she was currently in.

Even assuming the palace had fallen, there was no escaping the fact that in her condition, she wouldn’t be able to help retake it, and she risked exasperating her injuries by pushing herself further.

Yet despite those thoughts, she never stopped moving forward, the need to see Fourier pushing her onward.

A curse wasn’t something she could stop even if she was in a healthy state. All she was doing was causing further damage to herself. Wasn’t this exactly what she’d warned Ferris against?

Coughing, she fought to clear her airways, her trembling legs carrying her onward. Her vision blurred, and the world seemed to sway around her. Still, she pressed on her vow giving her strength—she had sworn to be by Fourier's side when he departed from this world.

Crusch continued her inexorable march, her perception of time slipping away.

All that remained was a single thought. She had to get to Fourier. She had to.

She heard footfalls, and she blinked open her eyes she hadn’t realised she had closed, seeing a startled soldier in front of her, worry clear in his eyes.

He was towering above her, almost twice her height. She didn’t think any soldiers were that tall, but for some reason, he didn’t look all that large.

It took a moment for her to realise why. She was on the floor, looking up at him. She must have collapsed against the wall while walking.

“Medical,” Crusch whispered, barely able to raise her voice, but all the same, it seemed to galvanise the soldier.

He leaned down, and Crusch did her best to cooperate as he slung her over his shoulder, though with her failing strength that mostly meant balancing herself with her limbs.

“We’re not far,” the soldier said, beginning to move. “Tell me if you need me to slow down.”

With that, the man started dashing forward through the halls, doing his best to hold her relatively still. But there was only so much he could do at his current pace, the slight jostling causing Crusch’s wounds to throb with each step.

Thankfully the guard made good time, approaching their destination quickly before starting to slow down as he approached the iced wall which melted away to allow their entrance.

Allowing her gaze to wander she spotted Fourier’s figure near the centre, and she could see his chest rising and falling, and for a second she felt relief.

Sakura had promised that he’d die in minutes, and already she knew it had been substantively longer than that since their conversation.

Before she could open her mouth to ask, the majority of the healers quickly made their way over to her side, leaving only Julius and one other healer to stay by Fourier who was studying her with concern quietly.

“Lady Crusch, can you hear us properly now?” their leader asked, voice no longer sounding distorted. “Your eardrums have ruptured, and your sense of balance was likely impaired, I’m already finished working on the concussion you suffered as well.”

“I could always hear you,” Crusch stated. The healer looked unsure at her words, so she elaborated, “My divine blessing means I do not need sound to make out the words people state.”

However she acknowledged it did require a sound mind, which helped explain just how distorted her vision had been becoming.

“The strain on your gate is tremendous, and I'm afraid I lack the ability to fully repair the damage at this moment," the healer's voice carried a tinge of disappointment. "However, your gate remains intact. I believe Sir Ferris should be able to mend it if you take it easy."

Crusch nodded, rising despite the healers hovering around her, who clearly wanted to order her to rest. However, they were too intimidated by the fire in her eyes to do more than stand aside as she strode to Fourier. He hadn’t rushed to her side when she had been brought in.

That was uncharacteristic of him.

“Your Majesty,” she began softly. “I was able to witness the demise of someone who claimed to be the one who cursed your family. They stated that they’ve cursed you as well.”

As she spoke, she studied Fourier’s face. He was pale. Almost as pale as the days he had spent bedridden towards the end of the time he had previously struggled with the curse.

Crusch’s heart was thundering in her chest, and she was barely able to maintain her composure at the sight of how rapidly the curse had attacked him. But it would only cause Fourier pain to see her panicking, so she kept a tight lid on it.

She pulled a stool over to the bed, trying to school her face into a more neutral expression, then sat down by his side.

“You’ve been resisting it in some way,” she continued, “and I’m sure Julius has already sent for Ferris and Roswaal, so if you can keep fighting—”

“I’m sorry,” Fourier interrupted, his red eyes drooping closed for a few seconds, before reopening. “I’m not the reason that the curse has been—”

His voice cut off as his arm spasmed. He winced, but didn’t let out a single sound of pain. He tensed the arm, again, as if to try and move it.

Crusch reached out and took his hand in hers, keeping him from moving it.

It took a moment, but Fourier relented, and let his arm relax again.

“It’s not me,” he continued, his voice coming out a bit clearer this time. “It’s the foreign mana from the sceptre. It entered my body when I saved Julius and now it’s fighting the curse.”

Crusch’s eyes involuntarily drifted towards the knight in surprise, but while his expression remained perfectly neutral, his wind spiralled in a chaotic mess she’d rarely seen from the serene knight.

“Which means I’m not out of options just yet,” Fourier hastily reassured, forcing some measure of cheer into his voice. “If we need to, I suspect we might be able to strengthen the Foreign Mana, which might even be able to destroy the curse.”

“Fourier,” Julius cut in, eyebrows furrowing. “I know you brought up the idea earlier, but you remember what the healer said.”

Fourier shot him a look, but Julius held firm, his face stern and unyielding.

After a moment, Fourier sighed.

“Though that does risk the possibility of irreversible changes,” he admitted. “Before I was cursed, the mana was trying to remodel me in Volcanica’s image, and if we strengthen it to the point that it’s able to defeat the curse, it could go as far as completely remaking my body, or infecting my mind.”

Crusch’s eyes widened, but Fourier hurriedly continued before she could say anything. “But that would be a last resort. And even if we do end up having to use it, I have faith that Ferris would find a way to reverse the effects.”

There was no trace of doubt in his eyes. He said what he truly believed, that Ferris would be able to completely remove the traces of the Divine Dragon himself.

Perhaps it was naive of him… but if that was the case, then Crusch was naive as well. Listening to him talk, she too couldn’t help but feel that Ferris would be capable of such a feat.

Crusch felt the slightest of smiles touch her lips at the thought. Fourier spotted it, and he broke into a huge grin.

He was trying to make her feel better, Crusch knew. He was putting up a facade, but she had to admit it was working. It lightened her heart to see him still acting so carefree.

He hadn’t been able to act like that for a long time. Not since he was cursed the first time.

“Besides,” Fourier continued, his grin fading slightly. “We still have some time before we have to make any decisions.”

He looked at Julius. “Could you give us a moment? There’s something I need to say.”

Julius nodded, the understanding clear on his face. He stepped back, and on an unspoken signal, the mana around him surged.

Crusch saw the air began to twist around them, an invisible barrier designed to prevent noise from escaping it.

For a moment, they simply remained silent, as the spell came into being. But even when it was fully set up, and the sounds of the infirmary were replaced with a gentle breeze, Fourier didn’t speak.

He was hesitating, his grin now gone, replaced with a nervous tenseness to his lips.

He stiffened almost imperceptibly, trying to hide the pain he felt as his body was assaulted by the curse.

Then it passed, and he sighed.

“I had planned to tell you the first time,” he said softly. “I had made up my mind, I was about to… and then I was cured. And we were all so busy, with the assassins, with the kingdom, and then with the bugs, the coronation, and everything else. There just wasn’t a good time to bring it up.”

He shook his head. “And now I’m back here. We don’t know where Ferris or Roswaal are, and the assassins are probably trying to keep them away from us. Even if we decide to strengthen Volcanica’s mana, we may not be able to. This could be my deathbed.”

“Don’t say that!” Crusch exclaimed, shocking even herself with the ferocity in the words. “There’s still time. They’ll manage to get here in time.”

Fourier smiled, “Even so… Julius already tried to cure it, but he couldn’t. It’s a different curse from last time. It’s possible neither of them will be able to remove it either.”

Crusch felt her breath catch in her throat. She tried to speak, but found she couldn’t. She had no idea what she would even say.

The idea that Fourier would be taken from them just as they finally triumphed over the forces that had been on the attack since the royal family had been killed… it was just too cruel.

“So, what I’m saying,” Fourier continued, “Is that I don’t really have any excuses left. I’ve been making them for years, but now I’ve run out.”

He took a breath, and then slowly let it out.

“I never told you my dream. I’ve been having it for years now. I’ve always been taking steps forward to reach it, to make it a reality in the world while I’m awake.”

The smile returned to his face, and this time it was entirely genuine. Just seeing it caused a smile to bloom on her own face.

“The three of us have always been stronger together than apart, and it always hurts to have to separate each and every time. Making Julius my personal Knight rather than Ferris hurt, but maybe it was for the best since it’ll let us do this together.”

Pausing, he closed his eyes as another tremor passed through his body, yet the gentle smile never left his face, as Crusch squeezed his hand in support.

“I intend to make you my queen,” he said, crimson eyes locking onto amber with a determination she’d only seen once before.

Crusch could feel her heart rate accelerate and her cheeks flush as she stared into his eyes.

“And I’d make Ferris our knight,” he continued. “Then the three of us will always be together, and I know that with you two by my side, I’ll be blessed with happiness.”

For a second, Fourier stopped as his gaze fell to her lips, as she could feel her smile softening even as it grew.

“I want to see the same future as you do, Fourier,” Crusch whispered her flush, deepening, “I’ll do all I can to ensure that it comes true.”

It took a moment for the words to register, but Crusch could see the very instant they sunk in. A massive, beaming smile broke out on Fourier’s face, like the sun bursting through the clouds.

Leaning forward, Crusch and Fourier’s head rested against one another as they whispered together.

“I love you.”

----------------------------------------

The wind howled past his ears as Ferris rushed forward, pushing his body to greater and greater speeds as he tore across the ground, paying no heed to his surroundings. His mind had long since stopped processing his own vision. He only saw enough to dodge any obstacles in his path, and even that sight was quickly forgotten.

All of his attention was focused on his gate. From there, he could more closely monitor his own body, and most effectively prioritise his bodily functions.

He carefully increased his sense of balance even as he pushed the muscles of his legs to their breaking point with each step. His heart and lungs were the next thing to focus on, as he forcibly increased his blood flow and level of oxygenation, while at the same time repairing the damage the organs suffered with every breath and every heartbeat.

It was a form of enhancement only the greatest of water mages could ever create, and most would consider it the height of recklessness. A single misstep could result in the death of the caster, and even if they survived, they would suffer irreversible damage to their body.

So all he had to do was not make such a misstep.

Ferris could only hope it was enough, and if it should cost him something to save Fourier, then he was more than prepared to pay the price.

Feeling his sense of balance shift, he knew that he was finally approaching the paved section of the palace. He gave a brief sliver of attention to his vision to confirm it and get his bearings, then dove back into his gate to weaken the enhancements one by one.

Once he finished undoing all his reckless changes and resurfaced, gaining proper awareness of his vision, he found that he was already at the palace gates.

They were wide open, so he didn’t even slow, continuing his charge forward. He had no time to be examined himself, and in seconds had ran through a side entrance he favoured, ignoring his pang of worry at seeing it unguarded.

He knew Fourier had purposely left fake vulnerabilities scattered throughout the palace to catch assassins and make the best of their limited staff, but it felt wrong to see the vibrant place so empty.

Turning a corner towards the infirmary, Ferris locked eyes with a guard, whose fearful face lit up at the sight of him.

“Sir Ferris, your Majesty is—” the man started, but was interrupted by Ferris sprinting past him, the confirmation of his worries causing him to redouble his pace.

The entrance of the infirmary was iced over, and Julius’s eyes lit up at seeing Ferris approaching. With a gesture from the Finest Knight, the doors creaked open and Ferris burst through into the room.

Fourier and Crusch were together in the centre of the room with Crusch stroking his hair, Fourier’s face was incredibly pale but the smile they shared showed a certain sense of peace and happiness he hadn’t seen in Fourier’s face in months.

One look and he knew.

Fourier had finally confessed and it’d been reciprocated like he’d always known it would be, a thought that filled him with a simple happiness of his own, even as the fear he’d always known crept in. If this continued then there was no chance that they’d be able to continue as they always had before, Crusch and Ferris against the world.

All you must do is stand aside, and this can all be washed away.

Yet even as the strange thought passed through his mind, Ferris was already rushing forward hand outstretched to catch Fourier’s own.

“Not yet!” he cried out, his hands shining a dazzling blue as his gate strained, releasing more mana than he ever had before.

“I won’t let you die so easily, Fourier! You still have far too many promises to slip away now!”

His mana began to sink into Fouier’s body, and Ferris could feel the dimming of his senses, as each began to fade in preparation. This time he’d destroy the curse himself.

Yet even as awareness drained from him, his eyes shifted to meet Crusch’s, he tried to smile, but only managed a grimace. His last sight was her worried eyes before everything turned black.

When Ferris’s senses returned to him, the first thing he became aware of was a dry heat that seemed to suck all the moisture from him, along with what felt like drops of acid hitting his skin, but as he opened his stinging eyes he quickly saw the source.

The od was a strange and poorly understood aspect of magic. Stepping into it as Ferris was doing would show sights seemingly impossible, as the caster’s own senses would fill in the gaps of his perception, interpreting the od as something more familiar to them.

Ferris saw Fourier’s od as a great city, similar to Lugunica, but far grander. The buildings were larger, and the streets were wider.

No doubt it would have once been the greatest city that could ever exist.

But now, as far as the eyes could see, fire raged, with support structures starting to collapse under their own weight. But just from the sheer quantity of smoke in the air, Ferris could tell that the blaze had once been far greater and more threatening to Fourier.

Now it was dying, slowly going out under the assault of a torrent of blood that rained down from the sky, painting the streets and buildings red.

No, Ferris realised, looking up. It’s not coming from the sky.

He had initially mistaken it for a dark cloud, but as his eyes focused, he could make out the body of the curse. It took the form of an ever-shifting mud, spewing its blood-like acid on every corner of the city it could reach, tendrils stretching out over the sky and touching down across the city, tornados of muck and blood.

Ferris felt the pain on his skin continue to intensify, and looking down, he could see his skin rapidly redden as his skin started to dissolve, each droplet of blood stripping away flesh and exposing his flesh.

He erected a barrier of swirling water, and he breathed a sigh of relief as the pain faded. While it certainly wouldn’t be able to stop a sword swing, he was grateful that, if nothing else, it could hold off this liquid form the curse had taken.

As the blaze continued to harass the torrent with its dying flickers, Ferris wondered just what Fourier had done to get it inside of him.

Judging from the collapsing buildings all around it, the blaze was damaging Fourier’s lifeforce, but right now it was an invaluable ally. Should he risk trying to strengthen it? Or take the safer approach and attack the torrent while it was busy with the flames?

The choice was taken from him, as the flame leapt off the buildings, with a deafening roar soon following as it swiftly coalesced into the shadow of a very familiar dragon.

Volcanica, the divine dragon of Lugunica, stood before Fourier and the curse.

For a moment, Ferris felt as if his brain was going to boil just standing in front of even this faded shadow, but the moment swiftly faded as the flame collapsed, swiftly losing its shape.

But even as its body lost its cohesion, it was rushing forward into the heart of the torrent, morphing to appear more like a star than mere fire, and its mere approach caused the twisted liquid to boil and fade away.

It hit the curse dead on, burying itself into the mass of mud, its divine light starting to fade under the curse’s onslaught.

Then the light surged, shining so brightly Ferris could almost mistake it for the intensity of the sun. The star exploded, vapourising large swaths of the curse and scattering the muck, causing the curse to lose its solidity.

It drooped and faltered, but Ferris could see the individual pieces that had been blasted off begin to move under their own power, trying to get back to the main body.

But he wasn’t going to let the opening go.

Ferris swiftly followed up on the dragonic mana’s attack, not allowing the curse a second to recover. His blasts of water and spells lashed out at the curse, attacking not the source of the curse as the Fire had, but instead its connection to Fourier, the tendrils it was extending down to touch the city.

If he could sever and isolate it, the curse would simply starve to death, and with it so unrooted the curse had little chance of fighting him off.

Apparently realising its precarious position, the curse increased its production speed, pouring its stolen energy into spreading out as many tendrils as fast as it could, holding back only the bare minimum required to try and fend off Ferris’s blows.

But its defences were ineffectual.

Ferris’s attacks of swirling water ripped through the tendrils the curse extended to try and fight him, and were unable to stop him as he cut through the first connection to the city, and then the second.

It flickered and raged, and the cityscape was filled with an unearthly scream as it gathered its power for one last attack, this time targeting Ferris himself.

An ocean of blood poured from the sky, coming down in a torrent right over Ferris’s head.

Ferris raised both hands, and formed a whirling spiral of water.

The blood hit his shield like a boulder, and Ferris almost buckled under the weight of it.

But he held, forcing his spiral to spin faster as it stole the strength of the curse's attack and fed it back into the city.

The curse seemed to realise what Ferris was doing, and stopped the downpour, but Ferris wasn’t finished just yet.

He extended the spiral, feeding even more mana into and launching it upwards.

The curse lashed out at it, but every strike it landed only fed the spiral. It was a maelstrom now, ripping the remaining tendrils apart as it grew to surround the entirety of the curse.

The curse screamed once more as it tried to keep ahold of its remaining power, but the maelstrom was proving too much for it. Every loss it suffered was integrated into the whirling waters, adding to the mass placing it under siege.

Slowly at first, then with growing speed, the curse began to shrink. It screamed one final time, and then the riptide tore it asunder.

Ferris fell to his knees exhausted, and allowed himself to smile and relax as he for several seconds he simply lay there.

The maelstrom came apart, and pure, untainted water rained from the sky, washing away the remnants of blood and flame alike.

Ferris finally looked up, watching the water clean the buildings, restoring the city to some semblance of pristineness. He shook his head as he saw all the damage the fight with the curse had caused.

Fourier’s once healthy life-force had been twisted and damaged substantially, but with all foreign occupants gone, he had little doubt that he could heal it with time.

Perhaps if this was the first time he’d healed Fourier, even his talent wouldn’t be enough to figure out the original form his life force once took, so twisted it had become.

But this was far from the first time he had healed his prince.

While he had never before delved so deep into the prince’s Od, Ferris had long since memorised the presence of Fourier’s life force.

Great waves of water swept over the city at Ferris’s will, picking up the rubble that littered the streets and slotting it together, binding the pieces together with mana, reforming buildings and streets at the areas Ferris deemed most critical.

It was far easier to destroy than to create, so Ferris wouldn’t be able to fix all the damage in one day, but he could make a decent start.

Once the tides had begun to lose their integrity and drain away, Ferris took one last look to see if there were any urgent spots he had missed, then finally allowed his senses to return to him, his mana slowly untangling from his friend.

There was a period of darkness as Ferris’s mind drifted back to his own body. He lost sight of the great city that Fourier’s Od took the form of, but still wasn’t entirely back in his own skin, able to perceive with his own eyes.

It took longer than it should for Ferris to return. He had not practised the technique of diving into the Od much, but he had always been able to return fairly quickly. But he had never been as exhausted as he was now for those practice runs.

His recent actions were catching up to him. Between his day of breaking into a church, his headlong rush toward the palace, and now his work in Fourier’s Od, Ferris had driven himself to the point that he wasn’t sure he was going to be able to even open his eyes without falling unconscious.

But it would worry Fourier and Crusch if he just collapsed without warning.

So he pushed his body’s needs away, and forced his mind to bubble up to the surface.

He blinked, his vision beginning to return to him.

“Ferris? Are you alright?”

He was lying on the bed. Or rather, his face was, the rest of his body seemed to be sitting on a chair. Someone must have gotten one for him.

He lifted his face off the bed, his vision slowly clearing, his eyes landing on Fourier’s face.

His skin was pale, and the hand he had extended out to hold Ferris’s was cold.

But he wasn’t in pain, and he wasn’t going to die.

“Yes,” he answered. “Ferri is alright. Great, actually.”

He tried to smile to give reassurance that he was alright, but he couldn’t. He was already smiling as widely as he was able.

“Are you sure, Ferris? Do you need a bed?”

That was a different voice. Crusch’s.

She was still nearby, and she sounded as tired as Ferris was.

“I… yeah,” he relented. He let out a slight laugh. “But I’ll need help to get there. I ran too much, and now my legs don’t want to help.”

He turned his face to find her, but he didn’t have to look far.

She was sitting opposite him, by Fourier’s bedside. Ferris reached his free hand over Fourier’s legs, and after a moment, Crusch took it in her own.

“I do need a bed… but not just yet,” Ferris said. He was losing strength in his upper body, so he lowered himself back onto Fourier’s bed.

“Let me spend a little while like this.”

He could sense that Crusch wanted to insist, but she held her tongue. Ferris had just cured Fourier, of course she wouldn’t refuse his wish to spend some time with his closest friends.

“You can take as long as you like.” Fourier answered, voice rich with amusement and happiness as the three allowed themselves to relax.