The Gray Flame

How…?

Astaroth stared at me, his eyes wide, filled with disbelief as the illusory barrier he crafted crumbled like ash in the wind.

The "Veil of Illusions," a spell woven from the blood and souls of two hundred demons, wasn't something ordinary humans could pierce. Even the professors of Reynald's Magic Department working together would've struggled to undo it. That barrier was meant to trap the mind—consume it, devour it, turn it against itself in an infinite loop of dreams and delusions.

And yet—I walked through it.

"You said it yourself, didn't you?" I replied calmly, stepping forward. "Illusions don't work on me."

Astaroth's jaw clenched. His eyes narrowed as memories surfaced—our illusion training session weeks ago, where his spell shattered like brittle glass against my mind. He'd assumed then I was just resisting, but now he was forced to consider another possibility.

The divine power of the Saintess's "Seven Eyes" could repel even ancient illusions, and the way I walked through his barrier…

No. That was absurd. To him, I was just a gray-haired bottom-ranker who'd been floating in mediocrity for two years. Yet now—

"Indeed… illusions seem utterly useless against you."

Astaroth forced a chuckle, more out of disbelief than amusement. "You're... quite the anomaly."

"This puts you in a tough spot, doesn't it?"

He scoffed. "You speak as if you know me well."

"I do."

I stepped into the clearing fully and locked eyes with him. The children lay unconscious behind me, protected by a barely-standing Iris. My voice dropped, steady and cold.

"The Archbishop of Illusions. Astaroth."

His body stiffened. Even Iris gasped behind me. "W-What… did you just say, Dale?"

She'd known something was off since the moment Professor Morpheus summoned that grotesque purple veil and knocked everyone out cold. But she hadn't imagined we were staring down one of the Six Archbishops—the highest-ranking figures in the Demon Church.

Astaroth's gaze sharpened. "So you were the one who ruined my plans in the southeastern caverns…"

"Who knows?" I said lightly, tilting my head. "I only stopped a few idiots hammering cursed nails into sacred ley lines."

"Ha. Shameless, after slaughtering my precious subordinates."

"Precious?" I snorted. "They were tools. You were injecting curses into the Academy's foundation."

"So you knew that too?" His eyes gleamed with something sharp—interest, maybe even respect. "You're far more dangerous than I thought."

"And you're far more predictable."

He laughed, a genuine bark of amusement echoing through the broken chapel. "A cadet who's immune to illusions. Truly a nightmare match for me."

A moment passed. Then—

"But…"

His expression shifted.

From amused to grim.

The Stigma engraved over his heart flared violently, purple demonic light unfurling like wings behind him. That oppressive energy poured over the field like tidal waves crashing down.

"That doesn't mean the outcome will change."

He wasn't bluffing.

A being who rose to Archbishop didn't do so through illusions alone. Even without his specialty, he was a monster among monsters.

The air buzzed, the stone cracked beneath his feet—and purple light blasted forward.

I turned instantly. "Iris!"

"Huh? Kyaa!"

I scooped her up, mana surging into my feet as I activated Wind Step—Berald's Martial Art.

The world blurred. With a sharp stomp, my body soared up and sideways, just as the ground behind us twisted like soft clay under the blast.

Crack!

The sheer force from a simple mana outburst—it was terrifying.

It wasn't even a spell. Just raw, weaponized demonic energy. Something even a first-year cadet could theoretically do, but not on this scale. Not like this.

I gritted my teeth. If that had hit…

I set Iris down behind the nearest stone pillar. "Stay here."

"Wait, Dale! You're not seriously thinking of fighting him, are you?!"

"What else can I do?"

"We could call for help—or wait for the professors!"

"They won't reach us. That veil was made to trap them, not me."

Even now, I could sense the lingering illusions beyond. Camilla and the orphanage kids were unconscious, helpless. Iris was the only one still standing, barely.

If I ran, Astaroth would kill them. I couldn't leave.

I wouldn't.

"I'll handle him. Create a barrier—keep them safe."

"…Please, Dale."

I nodded. No more words.

I turned back and walked toward Astaroth, who was now waiting with a twisted smile.

"Finished playing the hero?"

"Not quite."

From my coat pocket, I pulled a small vial filled with shimmering blue liquid—the Stigma Amplifier. My last one.

I downed it in one gulp.

My heart immediately began pounding like it wanted to burst from my chest. My blood ignited. A tidal wave of mana erupted from within, like a dam breaking.

Clink.

The bottle fell and shattered at my feet.

This was it.

I dashed forward, the ground cracking beneath each step.

Boom!

I closed the distance in a blink. Astaroth barely reacted in time.

"Tch—!"

He launched backward as I slashed, my sword cloaked in radiant light. A purple aura exploded between us like a spider's web to block my blade.

Boom!

The white light of my sword crashed into the purple field. Shockwaves erupted. The earth shuddered.

This was no longer cadet-level combat.

The Stigma Amplifier—crafted from the Seven-Star Herb and laced with the Primordial Flame—gave me five minutes. Five minutes where my mana eclipsed anything I'd ever felt.

'Sun Sword. Sixth Form—White Light.'

Bzzzz!

A flash of blinding radiance cut through the battlefield, slashing through Astaroth's aura and grazing his cheek.

Blood spattered.

He touched the wound, surprised—and grinned.

"So that was your trump card."

He responded with a surge of purple light from his chest, and we clashed again.

Boom! Crack! Rumble!

The world became light and thunder and shadow. Blades and aura, heat and violence. Each collision ripped the air apart.

I could feel it. I was burning through time fast.

Four minutes. Then three.

Iris had created a protective barrier around Camilla and the children, huddled behind the broken pews.

I fought like hell.

Two minutes.

My sword met his claws, sparks flew, mana scorched the walls. My lungs burned, but I couldn't stop.

One minute.

I saw an opening.

I drove forward, blade aimed for his heart—

Crack!

Pain.

Sudden, total.

A human-head-sized hole burst through my chest. My body jerked.

And everything stopped.

"…Ah?"

Blood sprayed. My legs buckled. My grip slipped.

I was falling.

My vision blurred as Iris screamed somewhere far away.

"D-Dale?!"

My body hit the ground like a ragdoll, life draining out in waves.

"No, no, no… NO!!"

Her scream tore through the chapel.

My vision flickered.

I saw Astaroth panting. Bleeding.

"Heh… You exceeded my expectations," he muttered, wiping his mouth. "But you're done."

He turned toward Iris.

"Now. Time to claim the prize."

His smile returned.

He took a step—

Then paused.

"…Hm?"

A gray ash stirred around my body, brushing his cheek.