Pick Me Up!

Chapter 323: Ignite

This was the boundary.

The demarcation between Möbius and the Outer Universe.

Siris stared straight ahead.

A pitch-black horizon stretched before her.

With a single breath, a chill that felt like it would freeze her blood swept through her veins.

Fwoosh.

A flame ignited at her fingertips, casting a flickering glow around her.

There, amid a deeper cluster of darkness, stood a man.

His cloak fluttered, revealing his hidden face.

Only then could Siris recognize him.

There was no doubt.

The master of Niflheim she had been searching for—Loki.

He had been dwelling alone in this hellish place.

Eden, which had once bordered the boundary, had long since succumbed to centuries of time.

Then how many years had passed in this place?

Siris couldn’t even begin to guess.

He’s hollow.

Eyes devoid of focus turned to her.

No trace of emotion on his face.

It was too inorganic to be called cold. Like the emotions of a human being had been completely erased, and she was looking at a mannequin eerily modeled after a man.

“Master.”

Siris bit her lip.

This man was no longer the Loki she knew.

She’d already realized it—but the pain struck as if it were new, piercing her chest.

Her flames flared brighter.

Beyond the distant horizon, a mountain of blackened debris appeared.

The corpses of Fragments.

Yet what she faced was only a tiny part.

This whole space...

Siris tapped the ground beneath her foot.

The very land she stood on was made from the remains of the dead.

A literal sea of blood and bones. There was no telling how many Reapers the Master had defeated here, how much power he had accumulated, or how many forgotten years he had spent.

“Master, I...”

Siris took a step toward Loki.

[Stop!]

A fairy blocked her path.

Nicelle frantically waved her hands with a panicked face.

[That monster isn’t Master! If you get too close, he’ll kill you!]

“...Monster.”

[Yurnet told us, remember? The Master right now is basically a program. Even if you’re standing right in front of him, he won’t know it’s you. It doesn’t matter who it is.]

“You’re right.”

Siris murmured.

That man could no longer be called human.

No memory. No emotion. Not even a self.

A program, endlessly repeating the role it was given.

The Dead One would keep executing his task until he wore himself away.

And now, his sole directive was—

To kill intruders.

「.......」

The Dead One’s eyes fixed on Siris.

Suddenly, she felt a bottomless sense of loss tear through her.

This is... the Master’s power.

Ssss...

She looked down at her hands.

Her fingertips were turning to particles, slowly disintegrating.

The Dead One had surpassed the level of a hero, transcended even the divine—and had reached a realm beyond.

Simply by looking, he could erase someone from existence.

There was no need to cross swords.

To him, Siris was less than an insect.

Something that could be crushed effortlessly.

So that’s how it is.

Siris let out a bitter smile.

Even she, once hailed as the greatest among all Möbius heroes, was nothing but a bug in his eyes.

“Nicelle.”

[...Yeah.]

“Watch my back.”

Nicelle didn’t respond.

Pretending not to hear.

Siris grabbed both of Nicelle’s wings and tugged.

I told you already. This is the only way.

I’ve brought everything I need.

The Bifröst, the medium to transfer the data—and Mistel, to drive into the Master’s heart.

Now it was time to carry out her role.

Siris extended her hand to her partner.

The fairy nodded and began to spin in the air. Flames scattered with every beat of her wings, radiating a brilliant crimson hue.

In that pattern of rotation, Nicelle suddenly dove into Siris’s chest.

FWOOSH!

A wave of fire surged from Siris’s body.

The suffocating gaze that had been crushing her vanished in an instant.

Ifrit Form.

Spirit fusion.

Flames burst from Siris’s crimson-red hair.

「.......」

The Dead One tilted his head.

A strange gesture.

That lowly being should’ve been erased already.

And yet, she stood there unfazed, meeting his gaze.

“Master, this won’t be easy.”

Siris gripped Laevateinn tightly.

“If you want to kill me, you’ll have to come down and swing your blade yourself.”

Shrrrrk.

From the man’s fingertips, dragon scales unfurled.

They elongated and coiled, forming the shape of a sword.

She had seen it before on surveillance—the Dragonscale Blade.

The weapon Loki had adopted after abandoning Bifröst.

Finally, the Dead One acknowledged her as an enemy.

Siris grinned.

It was what she had wanted.

It was you... you’re the one who made the fake me stronger.

A fire lit in Siris’s eyes.

In that instant, the man vanished.

Even after countless battles and drills, honed instincts, and sharpened vision—Siris couldn’t track his movement.

So fast—

BOOM!

“Khak!”

An explosion rang out.

Siris flew through the air, spinning dozens of meters before slamming into a mountain of debris.

Cough! A mass of blood spurted from her mouth.

Had she not trained in Ridigion’s rapid-blade arts, she would’ve been sliced clean in that very moment.

Stronger than Ridigion...

No, comparison wasn’t even possible.

This wasn’t just speed.

“Haa...”

Siris staggered to her feet.

Blood streamed down her torn forehead.

He’s strong.

With Ifrit Form active, her physical abilities had far surpassed the limits of a Six-Star hero.

And yet she couldn’t even see his shadow.

“Not yet...!”

Second strike.

Laevateinn curved to the right.

There—aimed straight at her heart—was the Dragonscale Blade.

CLASH!

The blades collided with a shockwave.

“Ugh!”

Siris’s vision turned red.

Crack. A sickening pop echoed in her ears. Her mangled hand burst with blood. Screeech. Her overstrained muscles tore apart with a wet rip.

Third strike.

Three slashes came simultaneously.

Above. Right. Below.

Laevateinn drew a half-moon arc, intercepting the Dragonscale Blade at each point.

[Siris!]

BOOM!

The ground beneath her split deep.

Beside her burning hair, her blood splattered like mist.

Not yet.

Fourth strike.

The Dragonscale Blade stretched dozens of meters, coiling around her entire body.

Siris swung Laevateinn in a wide arc.

Fwoooosh! Scarlet flames spiraled, knocking the scales aside.

Power demands a price.

Siris whispered internally.

Just as Loki had cast away his humanity to obtain the Cup of Infinity.

To gain something, you had to lose something.

What you desired...

An eternal, unbroken string of victories.

Strength that would never kneel, even before infinity itself.

That’s why...

I won’t fail.

Siris gripped her sword again.

Fifth strike.

When she deflected the Dragonscale Blade, she instantly knew—every bone in her body had shattered.

Her posture could burst like a balloon at any moment. She couldn’t feel pain anymore. Her muscles and bones had completely failed.

Still, she didn’t stop moving.

Sixth strike.

BOOM!

I can’t move.

Her body no longer responded to her brain’s commands.

No—

FWOOOOOM!

Torn nerves were rewired with flame.

Cracked bones, ruptured vessels—between every gap, fire surged and held her together.

A brilliant pillar of flame rose, catching her collapsing body again and again.

Seventh strike.

The Dead One’s assault intensified.

From above. Below. Right. Left.

As if to say: Still not dead?

The Dragonscale Blade hunted her from all directions.

「.......」

For the first time, the Dead One’s eyes flickered with curiosity.

Understandable.

Siris smiled.

This wretched insect still refused to die.

Her whole body was covered in wounds.

Hands, arms, legs, thighs, sides—every exposed part was carved with cuts.

Drip. A stream of blood traced down her forehead and splattered to the ground.

“This much...”

Siris swayed but stared straight at him.

Her face drenched in blood, her red eyes gleamed.

“Is not enough... to kill me...”

THUD!

Dragonscale Blade and Laevateinn collided again.

Siris staggered back several meters but kept her balance.

The more my body breaks...

Fwoooosh!

Flames burst from her entire being.

CLANG!

Laevateinn deflected the Dragonscale Blade with a violent surge.

The Dead One righted his stance and leapt backward.

The hotter I burn.

Her nerves were already severed.

Now, fire flowed through her veins instead of blood.

Eighth strike.

Their blades collided in midair.

The trembling air. The shockwave dug deep into the debris mountain.

She could no longer feel how she was even fighting.

Siris moved by instinct, swinging her blade—

The primordial flame.

Niflheim’s ancient myth.

It was said to have once lit the land of fog and cold brighter than any star in the universe.

“Hotter.”

Fwoom!

Fwooooosh!

From deep within her body, flames erupted.

Her heart pulsed like a forge’s bellows, pumping fire through every vein.

Power...

Always demanded a price.

Victory always came at the cost of sacrifice.

“More. More. More!”

The fire fused her shattered bones back together.

Her nerves reconnected. Her muscles pulsed violently.

Like a lantern flickering before the end, memories surged through her mind like a zoetrope. From the first time she arrived at the staging room, to this very moment before clashing with her master—the sights, the pain, the countless battles.

All that suffering.

All that effort. All those years.

If they had existed for this one moment—

If it had all led to now—

“I won’t lose.”

Siris whispered.

“Not to you. Never.”

「......」

“You can’t defeat me.”

FWWOOOOOM!

A blaze more dazzling than ever before.

Siris’s hair turned white as the fire of life ignited.

You sacrificed yourself for eternity.

The Ninth Strike.

Light and dark collided.

Flame and shadow twisted together, churning heat in every direction.

But I give myself for this moment.

This is my “persuasion” for you.

Burning.

Hotter.

Even hotter.

The Tenth Strike.

She broke the limits—then broke them again.

The entire boundary, buried in darkness, was set ablaze. A few dormant Fragments twitched toward the light—only to dissolve into bubbles the instant they drew near.

Siris’s eyes blazed like twin suns.

To burn, you needed fuel.

And the fuel she chose—

Was herself.

The Eleventh Strike.

Light and dark clashed fiercely.

Laevateinn and the Dragonscale Blade lunged for each other’s vitals. Thrusting, slashing, deflecting, striking again. Each clash exploded in fire.

The Twelfth.

The Thirteenth.

The Fourteenth. Fifteenth. Sixteenth.

Before the fire consumed her fully—

Before she let go of life—

I’ll end it.

Her burning sword drove the Dead One back without pause.

Sonic speed. Supersonic. Light speed. Beyond light.

Attacks that surpassed the limits of existence itself poured toward the Dead One.

And still he blocked them.

Of course he did. He retaliated calmly, as if it were nothing.

What an incredible man.

A faint smile touched Siris’s lips.

He parried her all-out strike without blinking.

Ranked third, wasn’t he?

Even the Seven-Star hero hadn’t lasted a single second.

In slowed space-time—

Between flickers of instants—

Hundreds of exchanges crisscrossed, collided, and overlapped.

Brilliant fire rose around them. The primordial flame engulfed Siris.

Faster.

Now she could see it.

She could feel the world her Master had fought in all this time.

Laevateinn curved, leaving a red arc in its wake.

Shhhk.

The wet sound of torn flesh.

Black blood burst from the Dead One’s left shoulder.

He didn’t stop.

The Dragonscale Blade twisted in a spiral and sliced across Siris’s side.

But she felt no pain. The unnecessary parts of her body had already burned away.

She had become a machine, refined for a single moment.

Stronger.

Boom!

The raw force pushed the Dead One back.

Siris lunged at his reeling form.

More. Just a little more. More!

Every time she burned—

Every time the thread of life shortened—

The fire grew more intense.

「......」

The Dead One’s eyes darkened.

He now classified the being before him as a “worthy foe.”

Scales scattered. His cloak billowed as he soared upward. Siris chased after, igniting another blaze. Red and black crashed again.

SCREEEEEEECH!

Crawling Fragments were no longer an issue.

The aftershocks alone erased the ones attempting to approach.

How far, Master?

Clang!

Flames erupted between Laevateinn and the Dragonscale Blade.

How far must I climb... to stand beside you?

Siris burned from the soles of her feet upward.

Behind her, gray ash fluttered like snow.

She could no longer be called human. A living flame.

When this fire ◈ Nоvеlіgһт ◈ (Continue reading) extinguished, only ashes would remain.

Even so.

He was strong.

Overwhelmingly. Dazzlingly.

The more fiercely Siris pressed him, the more fiercely he returned it—twice over.

Not once in the countless clashes did he falter.

As if declaring with his entire being:

It doesn’t matter who challenges me—I will never lose.

His cloak rippled.

The Dragonscale Blade rose high.

And then—Strike 328.

The blade extended dozens of meters, surrounding Siris entirely.

A sickening rip.

Crunch.

Siris’s right arm was torn off.

The arm that held Laevateinn soared, spewing blood.

Shhk.

A razor-scale gouged out her left eye.

Darkness swallowed half her vision.

“Master...”

Siris smiled.

In the blurring landscape, the Dead One slowly walked toward her.

“This is just cruel.”

There should be a limit to how strong someone could be.

Even when she drew out thousands of times her normal output, she still couldn’t surpass him.

In the end, she had never reached the place he stood.

And because of that—Siris was certain.

If it’s this man...

He could win.

No matter the opponent.

Even against an absolute being who surpassed the gods—he could emerge victorious.

Siris looked forward.

The Dragonscale Blade thrust toward her heart.

She couldn’t block it. She knew that instinctively.

Even if she drew on the power of origin and burned herself away—she couldn’t overpower this man.

But just this once...

Thud.

The dragonscale pierced through her chest.

Her left hand released what it had been clutching.

“...I... won...”

Her body collapsed to the side.

「......」

The Dead One looked down.

A snow-white dagger was buried in his left chest.