Chapter 187: The Girl Who Wore the Skies

Evening had already arrived upon the floating island.

“Lily really is amazing.”

Sitting cross-legged on the ground, a purple-haired girl murmured with a smile as she slowly opened her crimson eyes.

Not even the nearly cutting cold that permeated the landscape of frozen stone could compete with the warmth of the blush spreading across her cheeks. The conclusion of what she had been watching filled her heart with joy.

“Finished what you needed to do?”

Leaning against a nearby tree, a young boy with dusty pink hair let out a quiet sigh, discreetly pulling the scarf covering his mouth a little higher.

“Yes. I’m heading out now.”

Rising from the ground, Nia dismissed the four wings of black lightning shining behind her back. Opening and closing her hands a few times, she examined every joint of her body before turning her gaze toward the center of the labyrinth.

Built upon the same principle as a mountain's terrain, the closer one moved toward its center, the higher the elevation became. The summit, located at the very heart of the island, was where Bahamut awaited her.

Three days had passed.

There would be no extensions. No extra time.

She had to go meet the dragon woman.

“Look, don’t take this the wrong way.” Still leaning against the tree, Wisteria called out to the thoughtful girl while scratching the back of his head. “I know you really want to stop this war from happening, but remember that you won’t be the dragons’ main target in all of this. With your portal magic, it’s basically impossible for anyone in the world to chase you down if you’re the first to act. If you just leave the elves behind and run away, you can escape this entire mess.”

Knowing when not to fight a battle that could not be won was a lesson everyone who wished to survive needed to understand.

“This isn’t about the elves,” Nia replied without turning around.

“Then is it about that book?” Panic spread across the boy’s face. He hurried toward her, unable to hide the desperation in his voice. “I don’t know why you need it, but I’m sure that—”

“It’s about myself.”

Turning to face him directly, the metamorph narrowed her crimson eyes and stared deeply into the human’s violet pupils.

“Bahamut was right about one thing concerning me,” Nia said with a sigh. “My greatest growth only happens when there’s an obstacle standing in front of me that I have to overcome.”

Perhaps it was because she was a monster whose nature revolved around combat.

Perhaps it was simply who she was.

Nia did not know the answer.

And it did not matter.

A metamorph absorbed the strengths of others and made them her own.

Whether it was an innate ability, a fighting style, knowledge, or even the physical constitution of an entirely different species.

“No matter what originally brought me here, or what I stand to gain from our agreement if I defeat her, if I turn my back on this confrontation, then the next wall that stands in my path will certainly crush me.”

Nia was not like Lily, who could understand a spell simply by experiencing it firsthand. Nor was she like Selene, who could use boundless creativity to develop something entirely new.

No matter how human she looked, no matter how convincingly she could imitate one, she was still a metamorph.

To devour another’s strength and claim it as her own.

Since the very beginning of her existence, that had been the only way she had ever grown stronger.

It was not because she was unaware of other methods.

It was because anything else ran contrary to the very nature of her existence.

She did not possess the strength to devour Bahamut. She knew that fact better than anyone.

But devouring her was not the only path to evolution.

If Nia fought Bahamut, she would become stronger.

If she failed to become stronger, then she would be the one devoured.

And because of that, she could not turn her back on this battle.

To do so would be to turn her back on her very existence.

“Damn it...” Watching the determination burning within the girl's eyes, Wisteria bit his lip and clenched his fists. “We spent the last two days working on this without even stopping to sleep. You trained until the very last possible moment. Your dark mana reserves might be completely full, but your vitality won't recover until you rest.”

It was no exaggeration to say that this was the first time Nia had spent so many consecutive days under such extreme physical and mental strain.

From a purely technical standpoint, her body was in perfect condition, but not even dragon blood could heal the exhaustion weighing upon her mind.

“I'll be able to rest as much as I want after this. The energy I have now is enough. It won't affect my judgment.”

Nia answered calmly, but the boy immediately grabbed his own head as if struggling not to tear his hair out.

“You reckless, thick-headed idiot!” Wisteria shouted. “The spell still isn't perfect. No—no other mage in the world would even call that ticking time bomb a spell. The only reason it's usable at all is because you're healing faster than it can kill you!”

“I know that.”

“No, you don't! I mean—no, damn it, you do know, and you're going to try it anyway! That's what drives me insane!”

After that final outburst released all of his panic, Wisteria took several deep breaths.

It was not much, but it seemed to help. At the very least, his expression had partially returned to normal.

“Remember this. The moment you activate it—even a fraction of the spell—you'll already be burning through an absurd amount of dark mana just to keep yourself alive. Out of every spell in existence, this one comes closest to suicide. You have to win without using it.”

Hearing the warning she had clearly received more than once already, Nia placed a hand on her hip and tilted her head.

“You know that's impossible.”

The innocent, adorable face that could move the hearts of countless people did absolutely nothing to make that truth easier to accept.

Wisteria was certain of that.

Letting out another sigh, he scratched his head one final time before narrowing his eyes.

“If you activate the spell for real, then even in the best-case scenario you'll only have ten minutes. If Bahamut inflicts fatal wounds on you, that time will shrink even further. And if you completely exhaust your dark mana reserves, your body won't survive the backlash. You'll die. For real.”

Even after that final warning, the girl never stopped walking.

He had known from the beginning that convincing her was impossible.

That did not make failing hurt any less.

Bahamut would never hold back her strength.

Up until now, Nia had escaped death by always prioritizing defense before offense, but if she abandoned that approach, the possibility of dying during the battle would become very real.

Wisteria did not know what his mother was planning by proposing this duel.

He knew she had some reason for taking an interest in that girl, but he also knew her well enough to understand that such interest would not stop her from killing Nia here and now.

This was a fight whose very possibility of victory had already been labeled impossible.

Clenching his teeth, he stared at the girl's back as she walked toward the domain of death.

Amid the destruction that was about to unfold, a lone girl was marching toward annihilation with no lifeline to save her.

“Hey, Wisteria...”

And yet, a voice carrying a name he had never once heard spoken by that mouth reached him.

Lifting his head in confusion and alarm, he saw the girl's back.

Her arm rose, giving a single casual wave before she spoke one final word.

“Thanks.”

It felt as though his own trembling knees threatened to give out beneath him.

“Damn it... so this is what having a friend feels like?”

Grinding his teeth at how pathetic he felt, the boy gathered together the shattered pieces of his resolve and forced his feet to stay firmly planted on the ground.

“You have to come back alive, understand? Don't you dare die!”

Raising an arm to return her wave, Wisteria shouted at the top of his lungs as Nia disappeared into the horizon.

The most he could do for her now was hope she returned safely.

Worrying over her would be no different than trampling on her determination.

From this point onward, it would be the girl's strength alone that decided the future awaiting her.

---

“Sorry to keep you waiting.”

Step by step, Nia climbed the carved stone staircase leading toward the mountain's summit.

The peak was a flat expanse the size of a small village.

A place that had undoubtedly once been filled with monsters was now occupied by a single being.

“I honestly thought you'd given up.”

Lying lazily on her stomach with a carefree expression, a beautiful woman with a voluptuous figure let the breeze carry her wheat-colored hair.

Her black dress clung tightly enough to outline every curve of her body and was daringly torn around her chest, which remained covered only by the white scales growing across the most important areas.

Nia was a monster.

Yet she was certain the woman before her deserved that title far more.

Dragons were creatures of near-absolute power, and even among them, Bahamut was an aberration.

Every fiber of that woman's body seemed engineered solely for battle.

Her claws, fangs, scales, and tail all looked like instruments of unparalleled destruction.

If even a single one of her teeth were forged into a weapon, it would be considered a sacred treasure by any nation.

Such was the level of her strength.

Even if Nia possessed the same innate ability as that legendary hero and could create the same mana-reflecting scales, she doubted she could reach even a fraction of Bahamut's capability.

Bahamut was not the strongest because she belonged to the Scale Clan. She was the strongest because she was Bahamut.

“The view from up here is beautiful, isn't it?” Rising to her feet without the slightest concern, Bahamut stretched her arms and let out a yawn. “We're so high in the sky that space is closer to us than the ocean.”

Following Bahamut's gaze, Nia looked toward the horizon.

Alone in the heavens, the island resembling a dead star was bathed beneath a crimson veil.

So far above the ground, the sunset created a perfect curved line separating day and night as far as the eye could see.

The sun was fading.

The stars were arriving alongside the moon.

“It truly is beautiful.”

As the cold night breeze swept across her body, Nia tucked a strand of her silky purple hair behind her ear.

Night was approaching.

Along with the epilogue of all her efforts.

History was always written by the victors.

In a battle for survival, only those who lived through it earned the right to have their names remembered.

Today would be no different.

On one side stood a hero who had journeyed to the ends of the world to save it.

On the other stood a monster challenging that hero.

It was the kind of confrontation that could be etched into the history of the world itself, and yet not a single spectator was present to witness its glory.

Like two beings who lived solely to pursue their own desires and ambitions, the two women stood face-to-face upon a battlefield isolated from everything else.

“And so, have you found your answer?”

Living lives forged through battle, the conclusion they sought could never be reached through any other means.

Staring directly into the eyes of the woman who had traveled to the ends of the world, the monster gave her answer.

“Yes.”

“Then show me.”

There was no longer any reason to speak.

Bending her knees and taking a deep breath, Nia focused every ounce of her concentration on the confrontation before her.

By simple logic, a dragon's scales were a material of extraordinary durability.

Much like human bones, their base hardness was determined at birth, but they could become far tougher and more resilient when reinforced with mana.

Someone like Bahamut—whose mana reserves Nia was certain surpassed her own dozens of times over—possessed scales harder than even diamond itself.

Ordinary physical attacks would never leave so much as a scratch upon her body.

And even if Nia relied on magic, there was another problem.

Narrowing her eyes, she observed the nearly imperceptible layer of brilliant white crystals coating every microscopic fiber of the woman's skin.

Crystal Scales could reflect any amount of mana that came into contact with them.

Spells were constructed from mana.

Therefore, regardless of how powerful a spell might be, the mana composing it would be repelled the instant it touched those crystalline scales.

If only their natural bodies were considered, dragons already reigned supreme over all other forms of life.

If their innate abilities and total capabilities were also taken into account, Bahamut stood above even dragons themselves.

For a warrior, she was the ultimate challenge.

For a mage, she was the final barrier.

Bearing the title of The End, that woman was the summit awaiting anyone who sought to forge their life through strength.

The End could not be measured.

The End could not be surpassed.

The very idea of standing against her was irrational, beyond the recklessness of any species.

And yet, there were people who could place themselves before her.

Sylvan. Malus. The Demon King.

Nia had never met any of them personally, but she was certain each of them could challenge Bahamut.

They were all different.

Each possessed qualities that made them unique.

Yet all of them would climb the mountain and challenge its peak with their own strength.

Because there was something they had all understood at some point.

Magic was the miraculous discipline.

Regardless of one's race, regardless of how weak one might begin, magic granted even the frailest lifeform a chance to challenge the strongest.

It did not matter if mana could be reflected.

Magic would never allow itself to be limited by such a weakness.

Through study. Through experimentation. Through constant improvement.

By manipulating mana to fulfill a will, the possibility of challenging even a dragon was born.

It was the greed of the weak to overcome the strong.

Without speaking a single word, the metamorph took a deep breath and once again looked at the dragon.

It was merely a glance.

One that carried no bloodlust whatsoever.

Yet for the first time since meeting the metamorph, the dragon raised her guard.

Was it instinct forged through countless years on the battlefield?

Or simply her natural intuition?

The dragon did not need an answer.

Wrapping her body in mana, she prepared herself for what was coming.

And what awaited her carried a purple glow.

“-!?”

A cry of confusion escaped the dragon's lips for the first time in centuries.

So fast that it surpassed the time her brain needed to comprehend what had happened, a sharp sound—remarkably similar to glass cracking—rang through the air, accompanied by a faint impact.

It came from her left forearm, which had been shielding her chest.

The dragon felt something collide against it.

It was a weak wound.

Perhaps no more significant than a shallow scratch, the kind that would never bother someone for longer than a few seconds.

And yet, in this situation, even a wound thinner than a single strand of hair carried unimaginable value.

Because a red thread was running down it.

“Three days ago, that alone would have been enough.”

Directly in front of the dragon, the metamorph extended her right fist and curled the corner of her lips upward.

“Malus's magic...” The words escaped the dragon's mouth as her vertical pupils widened. “You actually did it!”

From the tips of her fingers to the base of her wrist, it was as though the metamorph had wrapped the starry heavens around her hand.

Her skin shone with a violet radiance.

Ethereal fractures rippled around her fist like tears in reality itself, flickering like purple lightning.

The world around her seemed compressed one moment and stretched the next, distorted like the reflection of a concave mirror.

Below the two women, a scattering of crystalline scales reduced to dust glimmered beneath the night sky.

On that day, the Supreme Dragon bled by the hand of a metamorph.

“Hahahaha!”

With an explosive burst of euphoric laughter, Bahamut bent her knees and swung her fist downward like a hammer toward the purple-haired girl before her.

Watching the strike of the towering woman whose blow could easily crush her into the ground, Nia took a single step backward.

A catastrophe erupted.

A vast portion of the labyrinth's summit exploded outward in every direction.

Chunks of rock the size of trees were hurled through the air, while a massive cloud of dust spread over the island's center like a cloak.

The speed of that simple punch surpassed the sound barrier by a tremendous margin.

Even if she had a portal prepared, the time required to enter it would not have been enough to completely evade either the strike or the resulting shockwave.

And yet, at the opposite edge of the shattered summit, a purple-haired girl in a black dress calmly watched the spot she had occupied less than a fraction of a millisecond ago.

“Teleporting yourself was already irritating enough when that arrogant brat used it. But seeing you use it feels far more troublesome.”

Emerging from the dense cloud of dust and debris, the tall woman with wheat-colored hair spoke with an exhilarated smile.

As Bahamut had said, Nia was not merely moving her body.

The movement of her arms. Her legs. Her feet. Every motion was being shortened through magic, creating openings in space itself to carry her forward.

She had become a portal.

“Come!”

Roaring loudly enough to sweep away every trace of dust and debris covering the mountaintop, Bahamut called out to her opponent.

And Nia answered.

Disappearing and reappearing instantly behind the hero, the metamorph simply drove her fist toward Bahamut's back.

Not even sword strikes could pierce a dragon's resilient scales.

And if magic were used, the spell's mana would simply be reflected by the crystal scales.

However, by focusing not on Bahamut herself but on the space she occupied within the world, the portal that the metamorph had become could force something that should never have been possible.

From the girl's clenched fist, countless ethereal fractures expanded outward.

The air around her blurred and warped.

Like a shockwave tearing through the fabric of reality itself, Bahamut's skin compressed under the impact, and tiny, nearly imperceptible cuts appeared.

Even if her fist shattered space itself, the distortion remained limited by how much her spell could deform the mana at the point of impact.

Against ordinary monsters, Nia had managed to create a zone of absolute destruction roughly one meter wide.

But the mana radiating from Bahamut's body was so dense that even such a powerful blow could only penetrate a few millimeters into her flesh before dragon blood regenerated the damage.

“Even so...”

Nia's eyes remained fixed upon her opponent.

“I can do it.”

The impossible had become something achievable.

A thousand times... no, even if she had to strike a million times until her mana ran dry, Nia would not stop until her opponent was defeated.

Ready to throw another punch, Nia moved her left fist. However, the moment her hand appeared behind Bahamut, a heavy impact slammed into her stomach.

Purple blood burst from her mouth, and Nia found herself hurled dozens of meters away.

As her body spun through the air, several purple tentacles formed along her back, slamming into the ground and preventing her from being sent flying down the mountainside.

Finally stabilizing herself, her crimson eyes, shining like rare gemstones, shifted between the gaping hole in her abdomen and the white tail swaying calmly behind Bahamut.

No matter how fast she could move, Nia still had to decide where to teleport. Although she had used portals in combat for as long as she could remember, fighting while changing positions at such extreme speeds was something she wasn't accustomed to.

Where is it safe to teleport? What are the coordinates of that location? Will there be an immediate counterattack?

Questions that once required only casual consideration now had to be answered within such a minuscule span of time that they could barely be called thoughts at all.

Completely focused on attacking, she failed to notice the tail approaching. By the time she did, there was no longer enough time to calculate her next move.

It was a simple mistake, but it had still cost her a portion of her dark mana to regenerate the damage through her dragon blood.

"There wasn't even any resistance..." Turning slowly, Bahamut brought a hand to her chin, a thoughtful expression crossing her face. "Did you abandon your barrier?"

Once again, she wasn't wrong.

Forming portals within her own body placed an overwhelming burden on her mind. Nia couldn't afford to spend energy on additional spells without careful consideration. She needed to use only what was absolutely necessary.

Along with the rumble of thunder, four black wings emerged from her back. Though their effect was limited due to how much of her concentration was already occupied, she could still recover dark mana using the Wing Clan's innate ability.

The wound in her stomach had already healed completely.

She had to keep going.

Ethereal cracks shimmered around her feet, and once again her body vanished from where it stood.

Like a violet bolt crossing the night sky, Nia reappeared crouched beneath Bahamut's waist.

By becoming a portal, every unnecessary movement of her body could be skipped.

Take a punch, for example. Normally it would begin with a signal from the nervous system, followed by the rotation of the shoulder, the movement of the elbow, the extension of the forearm, and finally the impact of the fist. Now, everything between the initial signal and the final strike no longer needed to occur.

A portal created a breach in space that allowed movement between two points in the world. By becoming the portal itself, things that could never have been considered separate points before became distances that could be shortened.

And that meant that the moment Nia imagined the completion of a punch, the spell itself compressed the entire process and executed it instantly.

"-!"

This time, understanding what had happened, there was no confusion in the low grunt that escaped Bahamut's lips—only surprise as a clenched fist drove her face backward.

Gritting her teeth, the dragon planted a foot firmly on the ground, maintaining her balance while preparing to seize the metamorph directly in front of her.

But the moment her arms closed, the space before her became empty.

A heavy blow struck the back of her neck.

Attack after attack, following a pattern of striking once and immediately retreating, Nia continued to accumulate damage on Bahamut.

If she moved perfectly, she could avoid being hit.

With the world around her blurred and spinning from the sheer speed at which she shifted from one position to another, Nia continued striking Bahamut again and again.

Head. Back. Arms. Wings. Horns. Tail. Legs.

No matter how small or insignificant each wound might seem, if she kept this up, the dragon woman's mana would eventually run out.

And when it did, she would no longer be able to fight.

If she remained patient, she would win. If she were perfect, she could prevail.

And then—

"Argh."

A low groan escaped Nia's lips, accompanied by a large mouthful of blood.

During one of her countless attacks, it felt as though something had disconnected within her wrist. Her right hand twisted out of shape as she miscalculated the spell's coordinates. Not even her dragon blood was powerful enough to compensate for the mistake in time.

It was only a slight delay in her strike, a tiny fraction of a second, but it was enough.

A counterattack pierced straight through her stomach.

Pulling her right fist out of Nia's abdomen, Bahamut looked down at the girl as she crashed to the ground with a dull thud, disappointment evident in her eyes.

"Come on. This can't be your limit."

Small wounds covered Bahamut's body for only an instant before steam rose from her blood, sealing every injury as though she had never been hurt at all. Even after everything, not a single drop of sweat had formed on her face.

Pressing her elbows against the ground, Nia took several deep breaths, trying to clear her throat.

It felt like drowning in her own blood.

Watching the girl struggle back to her feet, Bahamut clicked her tongue. It was as though a bucket of cold water had been poured over her. The excitement that had filled her expression was rapidly fading.

"Jelly, let me teach you something."

Bahamut's low voice echoed across the floating island.

"When the alpha wolf dies, the entire pack is doomed. When a general falls, the army collapses with him. When a king is defeated, his kingdom crumbles alongside him."

Raising her right hand, the dragon wrapped her fist in mana.

"Strength is all that matters," Bahamut whispered, lifting her chin. "You came to me because you wanted my help protecting what matters to you. But if you can't do that yourself, then that's no different from giving me the right to do whatever I want with them."

"Leave Lily and Rose alone!” Nia roared, clenching her fists. “Leave my family out of this!"

"Why should I listen to you? If you're weak, you can't protect anything. If you can't protect anything, you're no different from the dead.” Bahamut's voice rose. “When you choose to protect something, it means never allowing yourself to know defeat. If I kill you here, everything you defend becomes mine. The defeated have no right to decide anything."

As bitter as her words were, they contained no lies.

Whenever Nia defeated an opponent, she absorbed everything that belonged to them and claimed it as her own.

The strong devoured the weak and inherited all that they possessed.

If Nia were crushed here, her family would be the next to suffer.

It was a truth she understood better than anyone.

"I won't die here."

Steam rose as purple blood flowed back into her stomach. In an instant, the wound that had split her open sealed shut.

Slowly, the girl forced her aching body to stand once more.

Healing one fraction of her body at a time to conserve dark mana... that method might eventually lead to victory, but it would just as surely pave the road to her defeat.

Accumulating wounds wasn't enough.

Nia needed to create a single, decisive injury—one powerful enough to kill the Supreme Dragon.

She needed to stake her life on the outcome if she wanted to carve a path through the summit.

If she wasn't willing to risk her life, she could never stand against someone capable of taking away what she treasured most.

It was time.

"What...?"

The first to notice the change was the dragon woman standing directly before her.

"Rookie..."

Far away, at the edge of the floating island, a pink-haired boy muttered anxiously.

A tremor ran through the world itself, and its source was the solitary figure of a girl.

As though the very heavens had become disturbed, the space around her began to blur and distort, an invisible pressure crushing reality itself.

Each of the thousands of previously aimless ethereal fissures gathered upon her skin. The dress that was built there enveloped her in a way that didn't seem sewn, but rather as if it were formed from the void itself.

Arms, legs, belly—Nia's entire body seemed to dissolve into stellar particles, reminiscent of a cosmos filled with stars. Each tiny celestial body moved, destroyed itself, and then reappeared moments later.

It was a cloak made of constellations.

"I think at this point it's good enough to create one..." Nia murmured.

Not just on her fists or arms, but across her entire body uninterrupted.

It was an absurd spell that no one in the world would recognize as such.

And that's why it was perfect.

Any superfluous magic didn't deserve a name.

But now, that... that magic was certainly worthy of being named.

"[Nebula Maiden]"

Ten minutes. It was all or nothing.

The girl who wore the skies was ready to fight.