Chapter 278

[Third Person's PoV] 

Fenrir raised an eyebrow at Sherry's statement before bursting into laughter, clutching his stomach.

"How amusing~" he chuckled. "Tell me, what crimes has my subordinate committed? I'm quite curious to know what could have caused such a small thing like you so much grief that you would willingly set your sights on vengeance."

Sherry's eyes were unnaturally cold. Gone was the shy, timid girl—before him now stood someone who had witnessed war, destruction, and slaughtered her way through countless monsters.

"Sir Gaunt, as he was known in your organization, was my adopted father," Sherry said icily.

"Oh?" Fenrir arched a brow. "Then why not join us?"

"Because he was the one who killed my mother," she replied, her voice unwavering. "I was blind to the truth, manipulated by that man. If not for my savior, I don't know if I would be here today. So I swore to repay those responsible. While you may not have had a direct hand in my mother's death, Sir Gaunt was still a man under your banner. That makes you guilty by association."

Fenrir studied her for a moment before exhaling. "I see…" He reached to his side, fingers tightening around the hilt of his sword as he slowly unsheathed it. "I don't suppose this is a matter that can be resolved with mere words?"

Sherry shook her head. "It cannot. Even if I bore no vendetta against you, your fate would be the same."

"And why is that?" Fenrir asked, his mana surging. The ground trembled beneath his power.

"Because the Shadow Monarch willed it so."

Sherry lunged forward, her sword gleaming as it clashed against his.

The battlefield erupted in chaos. Sparks ignited the air as metal met metal. Though her ebony short sword was made of slime, it held firm against Fenrir's strikes. The surrounding landscape was ravaged by the sheer force of their clash, yet neither paid it any mind, lost in the violent symphony of battle.

At first, Sherry was at a disadvantage. She had only been learning swordplay for a month, whereas Fenrir had honed his craft over generations. She lacked the experience of a veteran warrior.

But she possessed something far greater.

Sherry was the Ruler of Wisdom.

Her body and mind were like a sponge, absorbing and processing knowledge at an extraordinary rate. Every strike she took, she returned sharper. Every cut she received, she doubled. Every parry, she turned into a counterattack.

Her grip on her sword adjusted. Her movements grew more fluid, her footwork more precise, seamlessly transitioning between attack and defense. Soon, she was mirroring Fenrir's rhythm, as if they were dancing to the same song.

Fenrir narrowed his eyes, recognizing the unnatural speed at which she was growing. Without hesitation, he intensified his assault.

In a blur, he somersaulted backward, distancing himself before unleashing an overwhelming surge of magic. The air grew heavy, his aura thickening into something tangible.

"You're a strange child…" he mused, his golden eyes glinting with something between awe and determination. "The speed at which you grow is astonishing. That is why I can't allow you to live any longer. I shall use my strongest move against you—rejoice!"

Taking his stance, Fenrir's power coalesced into nine massive dragon heads, each formed from his magic and swordsmanship. The ground beneath him shattered as he charged forward, his roar shaking the battlefield.

He swung his blade—

But as the attack was about to land, Sherry's God Rune blazed to life.

A series of hexagonal-patterned shields manifested around her, intercepting the nine dragon heads.

And in that instant, Fenrir learned what happens when an unstoppable spear meets an impenetrable shield.

The spear shattered.

Fenrir leaped back in shock, his eyes widening as he examined his chipped sword.

"You call that a dragon?" Sherry asked, amusement lacing her tone. She calmly sheathed her sword at her waist, and suddenly, her shadows surged, swallowing the ground in an abyss of eerie darkness.

From that endless void, darkness coalesced, taking shape behind her. A massive, spectral dragon of black and purple emerged, its towering form stretching toward the ceiling.

The dragon lowered its head, exhaling a tangible, seething breath as its piercing gaze locked onto Fenrir.

"Now this…" Sherry whispered, her voice cold and resolute, "…is a dragon."

Without hesitation, she issued her command.

"Incinerate."

"No, wait—!!" Fenrir barely had time to raise his sword in defense before the dragon's maw opened wide, unleashing a torrent of purple flames. The inferno engulfed him instantly, burning through his flesh, stripping him to charred bones before his body disintegrated into nothing but ash.

Sherry's gaze darkened. "Don't stop," she ordered, her voice devoid of mercy. "Burn it all down."

The dragon obeyed, releasing a relentless storm of flames, consuming everything in its path. The inferno raged, reducing the surroundings to unrecognizable ruins.

Once the destruction was complete, Sherry dismissed the shadow dragon, allowing it to return to its realm. She stood amidst the blazing remnants, watching the fire devour everything. It should have brought her solace—satisfaction, even—but all she felt was emptiness.

A warm hand rested gently on her head.

She leaned into the touch, closing her eyes. Despite the fire surrounding her, the warmth of that hand felt far more comforting.

"Feeling better?" Cid asked.

"No," Sherry murmured, her eyes still shut. "It didn't change anything…"

Cid let out a soft chuckle. "Is that so? Then come with me. I have something to show you."

He extended his hand.

Sherry didn't hesitate for even a second before placing her hand in his.

Darkness enveloped them, shadows wrapping around them with a strange warmth—one that exuded loyalty, devotion, and an unspoken happiness to serve their Monarch.

When the shadows receded, Sherry found herself standing inside a dimly lit bedroom. Her brows furrowed as she took in her surroundings—a child's room. In the center, a little girl lay fast asleep in her bed, her small chest rising and falling with each peaceful breath.

"Cid?!" Sherry hissed in alarm, eyes darting around the unfamiliar space. "What are we doing here?!" she questioned in a worried whisper.

Cid walked over to the sleeping toddler and sat beside her, gently stroking her hair. He then turned to Sherry with a calm, reassuring smile.

"We're visiting my mother-in-law," he said. "In other words… your mother."

Sherry stiffened, the color draining from her face. "…What?" she whispered, unable to process his words.

Cid gestured toward the sleeping child. "This little girl," he explained, "is the reincarnation of your mother. It took me a while, but I finally found her."

Tears welled up in Sherry's eyes. Her lips parted, but no words came out—just silent gasps of disbelief.

Cid's grin widened slightly as he continued. "Thanks to my new ability to manipulate Aether, my control over shadows has evolved to a conceptual level. Meaning…"

His voice dropped, deep and commanding.

"Arise."

Darkness swirled around the child's form, and from it, a shadow began to take shape. The amorphous void condensed into the ethereal figure of a woman—a woman of black and violet hues, hovering gently above the ground.

"By mixing my Shadow and Aether I'm able to construct a shadow of someone's former self. And I mean that both literally and figuratively." Cid explained.

Sherry's breath caught in her throat. Her knees buckled as she collapsed onto the floor, eyes brimming with tears.

"Mommy?" she choked out.

The woman's spectral form smiled warmly. She turned to Cid, nodding gratefully, before descending and wrapping her arms around Sherry in a tender embrace.

"My baby…" she whispered, her voice laced with love and sorrow. "I thank the Great Monarch for allowing us this chance to meet."

Cid quietly formed a protective barrier around them, ensuring their privacy while also keeping the child undisturbed in her slumber.

Sherry clung tightly to her mother, sobbing uncontrollably into her embrace.

For the first time in a long time, she felt like a child again.