Isao fell through the air, wondering if he made the right choice. He didn't like getting involved in problems that should be bigger than one man could solve alone. He'd almost paid the price for making that mistake several times before, and he'd taken the lesson to heart.

But he also didn't like the idea of potentially abandoning friends, even if they were just friends in passing.

The further down he went the more clearly he started to see what looked like a raging inferno. He frowned, unsure of what exactly would be causing such a phenomenon. That was, until he paid closer attention to the ambient mana that became thicker as he descended.

Oh. So that's what's going on. I was curious why somebody would do something this drastic, but this is extreme, even for those people.

The situation presented a serious conundrum for Isao, but he ultimately decided he'd already taken the leap so he might as well follow through.

As the ground rapidly approached Isao placed his hand on the hilt of his sword. Immediately he felt the restraints of physicality lessen, but that alone wouldn't be able to cushion the fall. The world itself seemed to tremble around him as he drew his accursed blade, its neon green hue illuminating his figure. In the blink of an eye he swung it once, seeming only to cut the air when in fact it cut something beyond that, something immaterial. The sword was only exposed to open air for a moment, but even that felt like a bit too long to Isao.

Isao's momentum disappeared in an instant. There was no jolt to accompany it like a parachute would impart, no sudden feeling of vertigo as his freefall was suddenly halted.

None of these things occurred because they were products of inertia, a concept that Isao had cut away from himself.

After a moment it seemed as though gravity reminded itself that it was still working, and Isao started to fall once again, but its pull was not as strong as it should have been, causing the man to fall as a feather would.

Upon landing, Isao took immediate stock of the situation. The three lying around, all incapacitated, and the figure that was evolving out of a stone.

He took out his more ordinary weapon while keeping his left hand placed upon the hilt of the absurd blade at his waist. In two seconds the bones that constituted the primal's body were hacked asunder, and the massive glowing stone within fell back down to the ground. Isao frowned when he saw more appendages sprout from the crystal.

So that's how it is. The stone is the source of its power. I could destroy the heartstone, but…

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He glanced at the baroness to the side. He could easily destroy the stone, but he didn't want to accidentally ruin some long-standing traditions he may not know about. The dwarves took their culture extremely seriously, after all.

Something also told him it would be wrong to simply break the thing. It wasn't a logical conclusion, but something he felt in his gut, though he knew not why.

His grip on the blade at his waist tightened, and he cut away something he hadn't had to for a long while. He closed his eyes and turned off his senses, not wanting anything to get in the way.

When he opened his eyes the world around him largely appeared as a black void suffused with tiny motes of light. Around him in three different places were shining beacons of that same light, but he didn't focus on those for now.

He directed his attention forward, and gazed upon the soul of the primal.

He opened his eyes wide in shock at what he saw. The gemstone shone through to his spirit vision, looking just the same as it had done in reality, though it shined with a luminescence that dwarfed all other lights. But around that gem was not the raging soul of a beast, as he had expected, but a fading silhouette of a dwarf, curled around his heart.

How could a soul retain its individuality after all this time? It is as though he sacrificed the mind and form of his physical self so as to better preserve this fading wisp. Why?

The soul seemed to notice the presence of an observer, and it slowly lifted its head up and opened its eyes in surprise at the sight of Isao gazing back. The soul tried to open its mouth to speak, but the effort seemed too much for it, and it wavered in and out of existence.

Though it could not speak, Isao understood the deep sorrow amid its eyes. But he also saw within them a fire, a sense of purpose that had refused to die even as the centuries passed.

Without word or sound, the figure uncurled itself from around his heart, and presented it to Isao. He held it aloft with arms frail like twigs, and Isao once again saw the spirit almost break apart from the effort.

I think I understand. Though your form is no longer your own, you still wish to leave something of yourself behind. I know not what purpose you wish your heart to fulfill, but I cannot leave such an earnest will to falter and stumble after it has come so far.

Isao sheathed the simple skysteel blade and rested his hand upon his other, far more powerful weapon. He gazed at the soul, at the tethers that bound that soul to every corner of the known world and perhaps beyond, the tethers of an idea that had congealed and fossilized upon the soul for hundreds of years.

Isao drew his blade. It hummed with excitement, ready to consume a core pillar of the world. Isao had only ever severed the conceptual strands of reality to himself or his immediate vicinity. He had never been resolved to accept responsibility for the severance of anything greater. But he could not refuse such an earnest plea.

In a single stroke, a single flash of neon green, the world changed.

Flame.

All around the world, something changed. Campfires fizzled and died. Undersea volcanos suddenly lost their heat. Nowhere was a flicker of flame to be found.

The pillar of flame that roared with blazing intensity vanished in an instant, its heat a bygone memory. Ifrit's body crumbled away as though made of ash, leaving the giant heartstone to fall to the ground.