The most devastating battle so far in the Demonic Game of Death has finally come to an end.

Nothing remains of the temple. Only rubble and dust are left behind.

Strauss's team has won, but the price was steep.
Deedee Lang is dead, and the survivors are utterly spent.

Squeezed lemons with not a drop of juice left. The victory is just as bitter.

Luysia and Xiaikai approach Kanna, who is struggling to remain conscious, her legs trembling, her breathing heavy.

Her strength is completely drained after the immense effort to cast the powerful spell that had trapped Ivanhold and Ques.

The wounds she sustained during the long fight are deep. She had healed and re-healed them, but they were constantly reopened throughout the battle. Using such high-level spells, beyond her usual capacity, has further damaged her already weary body.

Kanna has given 200% of what she could, and now she's feeling the consequences.

Now every step feels like an impossible feat.

 

With a serious expression, Xiaikai dismisses Tersiflare and then grabs Kanna under one arm, while Luysia supports her on the other side, helping her stay upright.

Welze, who was lying on the ground in a half-conscious state just moments ago, is slowly recovering from the Lich’s attack. Her eyes open and close weakly, still shaken by the deathly touch that almost killed her.

"Are you alright, Welze?" Luysia asks, concerned.

Welze nods faintly; her strength is also at its limit.
She realizes how useless she’s been, how much of a burden she was on Kanna.

If the cleric hadn’t needed to heal her, maybe… No, it’s pointless to dwell on what could have been.
The reality is that a true mage is a force like their enemy Ivanhold—a powerhouse capable of influencing any battle decisively. The pinnacle of any party, the anchor for their comrades.

Instead, she was a hindrance to her companions. Compared to them, she's a pale imitation of a mage. All her insecurities burst forth at the realization of her uselessness. Her dreams of adventuring in dungeons collide with harsh reality, shattering completely.

 

Welze struggles to stand, not wanting to be an additional burden to her comrades. She can barely keep herself upright, but she forces herself to do so.

Her brown eyes then settle on the beautiful Xiaikai. The woman she deeply admires isn’t in much better shape. Incredibly powerful, yet she was pushed to her limits, practically exhausting all her energy.

The survivors are all severely worn down from the battle. They are dirty, sweaty, wounded, with their armor in tatters and their weapons heavily damaged. Their torn clothing, barely clinging to their bodies, fully represents their state.

 

Slowly, the group gathers in front of Deedee Lang's body.

The air is filled with a heavy, painful silence.

Kanna staggers toward the policewoman’s body, the tears she had been holding back now slipping away relentlessly.

Deedee’s face is stiff, her eyes still open, frozen in an expression of suffering. Tiny tears have crystallized on her cheeks as the snow and ice around her slowly begin to melt.

Her magical armor and bow have disappeared back into the void from which they came, leaving her body barely covered by the tattered remnants of her ruined clothes.

Despite her own fragile state, Kanna, with a gesture full of compassion and tenderness, leans down and gently closes her friend’s eyelids. Her hands tremble slightly as she performs the act. A mix of pain and despair flows through her veins.

She knows this will only be a final goodbye if they ultimately fail.
This makes winning the game even more critical. But it’s not just about that.

Her friend had to kill Ivanhold—the love of her life, whom she had already watched die once.
The tough cop persona she had crafted was all to hide this pain. The professor can only vaguely imagine how much this must have hurt her.

Moreover, Deedee betrayed Strauss Wagner, and that will have heavy consequences regardless. Now that their Master's trust has been broken, nothing will ever be the same. The only truth is that there can be no one else but him.

“What have you done?” she whispers, tears falling.

Behind her, Luysia lowers her gaze, clenching her fists.

Xiaikai remains motionless, her eyes fixed on Deedee’s body. Her usual mask of indifference seems to crack for a moment.

 

In this moment of calm after the brutal battle, Welze can’t shake the feeling that something is wrong.

A dark premonition grips her, and she starts looking around, sensing a presence she’s come to know all too well.

 

The system has yet to announce the Lich’s definitive death.

The summoner notices it too. She exchanges a knowing glance with the mage.

And then it happens, without a chance to prepare.

*woooooooooooooooosssssssssssssshhh*

From the ashes of the enemy's body, a dark, dense mist rises, twisting and expanding like an evil shadow, filling the air with a sinister and unsettling presence.

The women turn toward it, watching in horror as the apparition unfolds.

The mist emerging from Ques’s remains is not mere fog; it is a living, dark, spectral entity that expands as if made of pure malice. It writhes through the air, forming tendrils that twist, brushing the ground and slowly rising upward.

Its movement is chilling, almost hypnotic, as if each particle is aware and eager to smother every trace of life around it.

At times, it seems to have a near-liquid consistency, dense and oily, but then it dissipates once more into an ethereal shroud.

From its depths, Ques’s voice rises, deep and hissing, as though spoken from a thousand hidden mouths in the darkness.

"Fools, did you really think you could kill a Lich?"

His voice vibrates in the air, thick with disdain and vengeance.
Each word seems charged with dark power, like an echo reverberating through the ruins and in the minds of the women.

The mist writhes further, as if enraged, roiling for a moment before curling around the bordeaux gem floating in the air.

"It will only take a few hours," Ques's voice continues, the mist thickening even more around the gem, almost as if protecting it, "before I resume my physical form. Then, we shall have more entertainment. There are plenty of corpses to use, and they keep piling up."

He then bursts into a malevolent laugh that chills the survivors to their cores.

Welze trembles, recalling the grip with which the Lich was killing her. She can still feel its hold on her neck.

Luysia has her halberd pointed toward the mist, but it’s a bluff—her broken body has no strength left.

Luckily, the Lich doesn’t seem inclined to attack, at least for now. Maybe he's not in the condition to do so, Xiaikai thinks.

The mist gathers around the gem, becoming a dense, opaque mass until it vanishes with a menacing hiss. A final shiver ripples through the air, leaving a feeling of emptiness and threat in the women’s hearts, knowing they haven’t truly won.

The cleric clenches her teeth and fists. Unfortunately, it’s as she feared.

Despite her exhaustion, Kanna manages to find the strength to speak, her voice weary yet steady. “No… Just as I thought... a Lich can only be destroyed if his phylactery is destroyed.”

Luysia turns to her, puzzled. "What’s a phylactery?"

“The phylactery,” Kanna explains, trying to steady her labored breathing, “is an object that contains the Lich’s soul. It’s the source of his immortality. The Lich will keep regenerating as long as the phylactery remains intact.”

Xiaikai pauses, glancing at the spot where Ques vanished. "I don’t think he had it on him... otherwise, it would have been destroyed."

"And yet, Azherie's gem withstood Tersiflare’s attack,” Luysia objects.

“I think the gem’s invulnerability is tied to the magic controlling this game,” the pink-haired woman replies.

“I believe Xiaikai is right. By definition, a phylactery can’t be indestructible... it’s the price for becoming immortal,” the professor adds.