The elf simply stood there, witnessing something he felt was necessary for him to watch--and only watch.

If I dared do something now...I'd win, but I'd lose something much more important, Strife thought.

"...Leon…"

"Yeah?...Manfred?!"

Weakly, with a hand that held nothing, Manfred reached out to those sulking clouds as if seeing the glistening stars that sat above them in the faraway celestial plane.

"Were our dreams...too big for us?"

As his hand swayed in the air without anything to hold onto, his fingers subtly moving as if trying to touch anything, even the falling raindrops, his hand was grabbed tightly with Leon's own, who squeezed it fervently.

"Hell no! Don't you dare say that--if those were your last words, I'd punch you, dammit!"

Those passionate words from Leon earned a chuckle from his compromised friend, who gasped sharply as even that small expression of reprieve brought on further pain.

"Now you sound like me...I don't know if that's good...or bad…"

"Manfred!"

Leon could feel the hand he held weaken its side of the hold, the hazel eyes of his friend losing their shine in near completion.

"Leon…"

"Yeah…?"

"Do it for me...kick this guy's ass and become an Argonaut. Even if it ends up being corrupt...change it from the inside. Become...a hero, a champion...show the world why you lived and I didn't…"

The rain was indifferent to the somber scene; falling upon the two young men as utterances ceased and Leon's own tears mixed in with that of the showers.

"I will."

As I held his hand, so warm and thriving with vigor, I didn't realize it immediately. That boundless warmth that in reality was a scalding heat that surely would've burnt the skin right off my hand if it weren't for my gloves, was a gathering of life mana.

That verdant, potent warmth flowed straight from my fingertips and through my veins, running so naturally through my body as if it were my own blood.

"Life", it's a rare magical ability, but just because it's rare doesn't mean it's especially powerful. In fact, most people look down on wielders of the unique magic. You can't throw fireballs, move nature, or summon great tides like the other affinities.

It's not flashy and it won't win you fights. It supplies you with heft stamina and exorbitant will, can increase your defensive reinforcement, and even heal you. But...despite its lavish name, "Life" is a selfish magic.

With the lively essence it provides its wielder, their life expectancy will rise--they'll likely outlive their friends and family.

With its regenerative properties--they'll likely survive battles their comrades won't.

All you can do really is protect yourself, for the most part, the tiny bit of healing it can do for others is vastly outshined by common light or water healing spells.

Still, Manfred didn't let it stop him.

I learned--there is a secret ability unique only to life magic--something so completely useless for the wielder that it's laughable. But in a moment like this, it was anything but useless.

The transfer of one's magic to another.

As we touched hands, exchanged glances and words--acts that cemented themselves into the end of the man I called my friend, comrade, and brother--a gift was parted to me.

The most selfish magic of all was for once--selfless.

With the departure of magic from one to another, what came with it wasn't simply the usage of the verdant mysticism itself.

Leon felt it immediately, he recognized it in that moment--it was something theorized about, talked about with such certainty amongst the world that nobody questioned its existence, yet there was no definitive proof of it.

The soul. That precious, unreachable concept of a profound value transferred itself into Leon; combining itself with the presence already inhabiting his body, melding together into something new. That was the essence of life magic; an all-in-one aspect of the caster themselves.

Inheriting such an affinity meant also inheriting Manfred as well.

I accept, he said without any hesitation.

Graciously welcoming this, the fusing of the two souls--two, individual, yet intertwined lives, memories, experiences, consciousnesses--the young man that opened his eyes once more with verdant irises now wasn't simply Leon, at least, he wasn't the boy that once stood before Strife.

I never realized it until that moment--the two of our abilities were like two pieces of a larger part; nearly useless on their own...but when put together--something greater came of it. They were a perfect match.

My own ability; "Abandon", grants my body greatly amplified strength, but it isn't something without a price of its own. The strain is too much to bear even for the minimum use of the ability to last more than a few minutes; my blood boils up like water in a kettle, my muscles inflate and tear from the stress, my heart beats to the tempo of sprinting feet--I get so nauseous that I puke my guts out, not long after that is when things get really dangerous.

However, with something like life magic, that demerit isn't even a factor anymore.

Something's different; that boy...his mana signature--it's amplified greatly. This feeling...it's the same as his friend--is something like that even possible?...The transference of one's own magic to another? Strife thought.

He watched curiously with a shocked suspicion as the silver-haired young man stood himself back up--the strength he stood with was not the fleeting, trembling vigor of a man taken by emotion.

In fact, it seemed the passing of his comrade revitalized him--a new shine inhabiting his changed eyes they met with Strife's.

"All of these memories, experiences, emotions...they're yours, aren't they, Manfred?"

Leon spoke quietly to himself as he looked at his hand, clenching his fist tightly shut as the sable leather of his glove squelched.

I can feel it--even without invoking it; Manfred's life magic didn't simply become another asset, it merged with my own magic. Is this the true nature of life magic…? Something that must be cultivated, nurtured, and passed along like this? But the cost of such a thing...Manfred, Leon thought.

"You've changed, haven't you? It would be a silly question if it weren't something I've witnessed with my own two eyes—they aren't inclined to deceive me."

Strife spoke with his bow resting in his hands, but still ready to attack at any given moment if need be.

"A bit ago, you looked at me with eyes resolved to fight—a resolve born from a fear of death, nothing else—a coward's conviction. Now, those eyes you look at me…vibrant, not sad, but mourning. It's as if you accepted the loss of your friend despite weeping just a moment ago. Those tears are still clinging to your cheeks, but your expression is indifferent to me—when you should be bubbling with a vengeful rage."

The way Strife spoke, it wasn't anything meant with malice—the man recently born anew simply found himself plagued by puzzlement at the development before him.

Rain continued to spill atop the sable cloth of Leon's uniform as he looked down for a moment, watching as the blood of his friend washed from his garments.

"Yeah…you're right. It's strange, isn't it?"

Looking up directly at the source of the continuous downpour, he didn't know where exactly to place the feeling in his heart.

I'm calm. My heart is gently beating, my breath is smooth—yet, it feels like something is wrong, he thought.

Tracing his finger along his cheek drenched in the cold grace of the rain, he found his answer through deeper realization.

That's right—this is what life magic is like, isn't it? I can feel it; the vibrant, verdant mana of rejuvenation pumping through my body solely to rid these thoughts. I can't even be upset, he thought.

"I imagine you won't deny your friend's final request."

"Yeah. That's right."

With a new finesse as he picked up the sword that sat against the moist soil, Leon flipped the handle between his fingers as his eyes stayed on the elvish bowman.

"I believe in a situation like this…it is most respectful if I don't hold back."

The moment Strife's finger twitched to entail his raise of the bow, Leon dashed forward with a speed that momentarily took the elf by surprise. It was due only to his unique eyes that he was able to track his foe and adjust his attention, jumping back as he swiftly unleashed an arrow in a single movement.

Abandon: Stage Two, Leon thought.

It was painful, but nothing his improved self couldn't handle as his heightened physicality allowed him to deflect the casual arrow.

"You said you wouldn't hold back. I know that isn't an arrow shot by an Argonaut."

"I suppose what I meant is that I'd face you in a proper fight; this is how I battle—I don't blindly throw in my maximum strength. I would advise becoming overconfident."

It was clear that the emerald-eyed young man didn't want to listen to the elf's words as he sprinted once more with his new speed, kicking off a tree as a platform to bring himself closer to Strife, who chose to occupy a tree branch as his vantage point.

"Even if you've gained strength--your movements are far too novice."

Without attempting to dodge the incoming sword strike, Strife simply retrieved another arrow from his boundless bow, calmly and elegantly drawing it back as a sapphire glow emanated from its form. Leon could see it; with the new eyes afforded to him by virtue of his new magical energy.

He's moving as if time runs differently for him--the way he grabs an arrow from his quiver, brings his bow up, and draws the string back--all as if it's one action. This is the level of an Argonaut, Leon thought.

Knowing his strike will fail, he changed his form halfway into the air, using his blade as if it were a shield as the impact of the arrow came a moment sooner than he expected--crashing against the steel he held in front of his chest yet still sending him crashing against the ground.

All of the air was sucked right out of his lungs, breathing in the nothingness of the absent winds as he gasped for air.

...This is the point I have to reach. He hasn't even used magic on me yet. I don't care what he says--the bastard is still holding back! Leon thought.

Abandon: Stage Four!

It was a large jump, feeling his muscles tighten as his veins pressed against his skin--but the discomfort granted him physical prowess like never before. Using just the kick of his legs, he brought himself back to his feet and ran in one action.

"Thaumas: Mountain Eroder!"

Yelling out fervently the name of the spell, Leon coated the blade he held tightly in his hands with the essence of flowing water, dragging it behind him as he leaped towards Strife, this time opting for a spinning maneuver as the water acted as an abrasive wheel.

The baseline arrow launched by the golden-eyed elf was thwarted by the torrent of the magically-conjured water, being deflected with ease.

"...Take this seriously, dammit!"

Finishing his attack, Leon slammed his blade towards the elvish man as the attached water followed, piercing the soil beneath in a whirlpool of physical and magical energy being released.

As the geyser of water resulting from his attack dissipated while he huffed, once more he watched as Strife proved to be unreachable for him, having more than dodged the attack by a large margin.

"As I said--your movements are too obvious."

All he could do was listen to the words in hope that his opponent would allow him to gather his breath. Wiping the sweat from his lip, he checked his hand to see blood had sat on the edge of his mouth.

Even with life magic, I'm not used to the strain of level four yet. There's no way I thought I was going to defeat an Argonaut as I am, right…? Manfred, I… Leon thought.

"...Why didn't you attack?"

Leon's question came out sharply as he slowly stood back up, looking at the silver-haired elf that stood a good ten meters away.

"..."

"You're still trying to spare me, aren't you? After you killed--"

"Just because he fell--doesn't mean you have to as well. I doubt he would've wanted you to die."

Strife's words only served to further send Leon into a fit of anger as he clenched his fists tightly shut, digging his boots into the mud below.

"Shut up…! You don't know a damn thing about him! His...his last request--I'm supposed to beat you!"

"And did he specify that it had to be on this night?"

As calm as ever, the words from Strife's lips trapped the contempt-filled words of the silver and brown-haired boy into his throat as he bit down on his lip, dropping to his knees right into the loose, freshly formed mud beneath him.

Even as I am now...I can't fight, Manfred. Even with your power, I'm still too weak, he thought.

"...I'd like to think I am someone that tries my best not to kill children. Maybe once you become a man, I'll indulge your friend's final request."

Though those words from the elf met his ringing ears, by the time Leon looked up, Strife was already far gone from his sight, leaving him alone in the war-torn forest amidst the rainy, somber night.

Sitting there on his knees, looking at the formless mud as small waves formed beneath the fall of the constant rain, he didn't know how long he sat there, just staring aimlessly without any thoughts rinsing through his mind.

He didn't know what it was that brought him back to his feet, but he slowly lumbered towards the body of the fallen companion of his; hoisting him up into his arms with the smallest of smiles, one brimming with sadness, but a slight relief at the familiar face.

"Let's go home, Manfred."