novelraw Chapter 50: The Final Chapter
Chapter 50: The Final Chapter
In a city engulfed in smoke and flame, Fischer leaned against a wall, panting. The glow from his staff dimmed again, and then, one of the magical rings etched on the staff slowly faded away.
He was almost out of magic. He had prepared over a hundred magic sigils for this journey, engraving nearly the entire staff, but the battle with Fieron had nearly depleted them all.
Fieron’s fuel came from the souls of children. Draining a single child’s soul could unleash immense energy. Now, Fieron still had five canisters on his back, while Fischer’s staff only retained a few reinforcement sigils to prevent it from breaking.
Fischer’s body was also riddled with wounds from Fieron’s Death Ray. His abdomen and chest bled steadily, pain flaring with each breath. But the adrenaline dulling his senses made it bearable.
“Haha, Mr. Fischer, your will to fight is truly tenacious. But if I’m not mistaken, your staff is just about out of magic, isn’t it?”
Out of the battle-scarred haze, a tall figure emerged once again. As he clapped, the backpack behind him opened and ejected another metal canister.
He still had four canisters left. But Fischer couldn’t last until he used them all.
Fischer leaned against the ruins, calm despite being cornered. His rational mind told him that only by staying calm could he survive. Panic served no purpose.
“I originally planned to use just a few, but I didn’t expect your magical power to be this formidable. You’ve mastered so many dangerous high-ring spells with ease—impressive, as expected from you.”
Fischer gripped the staff beside him and addressed Fieron, “There's no way you could've done all this alone. Who’s backing you? Nary? Schwalli? Or Cardo?”
The underground of Fieron City was vast and complex. Even if Fieron had pioneered all the soul research himself and was selling this energy to others, it would’ve drawn attention unless someone powerful was covering it up. Otherwise, Fischer would’ve discovered this in the South Continent much sooner.
Fieron looked at Fischer and fell silent, not answering the question. Instead, he stared at Fischer’s battered body.
“Fischer, my previous offer still stands. I can let you and the Crimson Dragonkin girl go. I’ll overlook what you’ve done to this city—but you must promise not to leak anything from here…”
Fischer’s gaze flickered. He pushed himself up using his staff. Blood stained his hands and smudged onto the staff as he moved.
“No need. This is the end.”
Fieron sighed, sounding genuinely regretful.
“Such a brilliant mind… what a waste.”
As he spoke, that deep blue glow reappeared on his body. Fischer took a deep breath, reversed his grip on his staff, and assumed a battle stance.
“Ding!”
A Death Ray shot toward Fischer. Out of magic, he did something unthinkable—he charged straight at Fieron. His injured arm dragged the staff behind him, etching a trail on the ground.
Going for close combat?
Fieron wondered, but his body, enhanced by his steam-powered backpack, was far stronger than Fischer’s. Fueled by the power of a full soul, he was like a superhuman from a novel. If that’s the case…
The Death Ray faded from his right hand, which then clenched into a fist and swung at Fischer. Fischer raised his staff to block, triggering several magic rings to flare at once. Gritting his teeth, he fell to one knee, the staff buried into the ground.
“Fischer!”
Fieron seemed like he wanted to give Fischer one last chance. But Fischer remained cold and calm. He twisted the staff slightly, carving an arc into the ground. Then, with his bloodied left hand, he punched Fieron square in the face—it landed, but Fieron didn’t even flinch.
Fischer moved nimbly, dodging with what little strength he had. But his right hand was limp; he could barely hold his staff, which dragged uselessly along the ground.
Cripple his right arm completely—make him lose his last bit of resistance!
Fieron’s eyes narrowed. His right hand lit up, and he took advantage of Fischer’s movement to slam down hard, forcing him to block with the staff again. Energy surged from the blue light on his back into his arm, increasing his power drastically.
“Crack!”
Fischer’s right shoulder dislocated instantly. The force flung him backward through the air. With his left hand, he jammed the staff into the ground to stop himself.
The staff came to a halt—and Fischer, oddly, looked relieved.
“Sorry, Fischer.”
Fieron raised his right hand again, the Death Ray glowing. He had given Fischer many chances. If he insisted on standing in his way, then—
“No need to apologize, Fieron. It’s over.”
Fischer clutched his dislocated right arm but didn’t touch the staff. The reinforcement magic had faded. Without its protective enchantment, the staff instantly turned to ash and scattered in the air.
His face was pale, but his eyes remained fixed on Fieron.
Over?
Fieron looked at Fischer, then down at the ground. His expression changed. All the marks Fischer had carved while dodging suddenly ignited with crimson light.
It was a massive magic sigil. Unlike the circular designs used by humans, this resembled a jagged, tooth-like structure. Fieron hadn’t realized Fischer had been drawing a spell all along.
This guy… carved a spell into the ground mid-battle!
“Human blood is a natural magical medium. I tweaked this spell a bit, but the power should be enough… Get lost. I’m tired of looking at that gas mask of yours.”
Fischer snapped his fingers coldly.
The Draconian spell instantly collapsed inward. A violent flame storm surged from the void, engulfing Fieron, who stood directly on the sigil.
“Boom!”
The heat melted the wires connected to his prosthetic limbs. The backpack exploded under the intense heat. Pale blue soul projections from the remaining four canisters spilled out, drifting away in all directions.
“Ua tsaug…”
One soul, however, lingered beside Fischer. Its tiny mouth whispered something he couldn’t quite hear. He only saw her little wolf ears trembling.
“‘Child who longs for freedom, flow along the river shaped by your dreams. See the blooming flowers of spring, the chirping cicadas of summer, the golden wheat of autumn, the sparkling snowflakes of winter. Just don’t forget to bring me word from your journey, so I may see the sights through your eyes.’ Sleep now, Qiqi.”
Fischer recited a poem by Madame Lauffan. The soul yawned sleepily and gently wrapped its ghostly arms around his neck, resting her wolf-eared face against him.
She placed a nonexistent kiss on his cheek, and the next moment, her silhouette faded before the flames.
“Boom...”
The fire from the Draconian spell slowly died down. At its center, Fieron’s legs were gone, burned away. His gas mask had shielded him from immediate death, but the therapeutic fluid inside exploded from the heat. His scarred skin, now exposed to the air, turned red and started to rot within seconds.
He didn’t cry out. He just stared blankly at the sky.
A few seconds later, he laughed.
“So I’ve lost, haven’t I…? Putting aside our battle, Mr. Fischer, I still want to ask you the same question again. As a Spirit Ferry Train administrator, what would you do?”
Fischer ached all over. He slumped against the ruins and lit a cigarette from the nearby flames. It wasn’t for style—he just hurt too much and needed relief.
Exhaling, he said:
“I told you. I wouldn’t do anything.”
“What if there were fifty people on one side of the tracks?”
“Same answer.”
“Five hundred? Fifty thousand? Five million?”
“Still the same.”
“...Can you tell me why?”
Fieron’s remaining eye gleamed with a desperate thirst for knowledge. He was one step away from the answer he had chased his whole life. Even on the brink of death, his desire for truth outweighed his will to live.
Fischer glanced at him, then toward his mansion, where black smoke still billowed. He could sense Mir and the others nearing the surface—safe, healthy.
Raphaëlle… did she succeed?
On a distant hill, the Crimson Dragon Queen emerged from the cave, dragging one companion after another. Bloodied and filthy, her beauty still shone. As she emerged into the chaos, she frantically searched for Fischer, despite how much she used to resent him.
Fischer's gaze wandered, lost in thought. As though answering Fieron—and himself—he finally said:
“To kill one in order to save the world… that’s something I refuse to do.”
Fieron stared at him in silence. Then, as if something clicked, he threw his head back and laughed amidst the ashes.
“HAHAHAHAHAHA!”
Fischer crushed his cigarette and staggered to his feet. Fieron’s laughter faded. Still trembling, he reached into his coat and pulled out an ancient-looking book, handing it to Fischer.
“Take it. Use the technology however you want. But don’t destroy it. If you do, it’ll appear somewhere else, in someone else’s hands…”
Fischer took the book, puzzled. The text on it suddenly shifted—into Nary Language.
[Human Supplement Manual]
Fischer’s pupils shrank. He turned back to Fieron in shock. But Fieron’s gaze had turned hollow, sightless. His breathing slowed.
“Fischer, go. This place is going to collapse.”