When Red noticed he was bringing the ghoul straight to the blacksmith, he promptly tried to change directions.

“Don’t you dare!” Goulth's angered voice reached him before he could even move. “I will deal with him!”

The youth hesitated, and for a split second, dozens of thoughts floated through his mind. He knew what the man wanted to do without even exchanging a single word. His eyes and tone - they told Red enough.

They couldn’t stop this empowered undead Rog had turned to, at least not through any conventional means, and neither of them had cards up their sleeves that could turn the situation around in one move. They needed an opportunity, the kind that was created with the only thing they had to give - with blood and sacrifice.

Red was willing to offer his own life moments ago, yet now Goulth stepped up.

Logic told him that the blacksmith was the right choice. After all, if the youth died, it’s likely his sect would follow him in death, too. Yet, the fact this was the correct decision didn’t make it any easier for Red to take it, knowing what it would cost.

Never had the weight of a life felt so clear in his mind - the struggle between the feeling of selfishness that came at choosing your own life over someone you cared about and making the right choice to win the battle. He thought he was above such internal conflicts when he chose to retreat from the incoming war the day before.

He was wrong.

Such thoughts crossed through his mind in a matter of seconds, and then there was no longer time to think.

Red stared at Goulth, feeling the man’s resolve through his gaze that left no room for discussion. His eyes wandered down, noticing the blacksmith’s other hand balled up into a fist, and a small golden glow seeped between his fingers. He knew then that there was only one choice to make.

‘The last gift I can give you, master, is purpose found in death.’

The youth continued to run in the same direction, straight at Goulth, with the ghoul in tow. The hunter was only twenty meters behind him, a distance it could close in less than five seconds, yet by then Red had already reached the blacksmith.

He ran straight past the man, who didn’t even turn to look at him as he charged with intent at Rog. The ghoul also didn’t seem to register Goulth’s presence, so enraptured it was with the crystal core in Red’s hands. It looked as if it wanted to just run past him, but he had other plans.

They clashed, the blacksmith bracing himself as he tried to tackle the undead hunter. Suffice it to say, even with his prodigious physique, Goulth lacked the strength to push a Lesser Ring Realm being to the ground, but he was able to wrap his large arms around Rog’s torso.

While the ghoul didn’t fall down, its speed was severely diminished by this large lump of a man that it now had to drag along with itself. When the being saw Red getting further away with the crystal core, it let out a roar of anger.

The undead hunter clawed down against Goulth’s back, in the same way it did to the youth. Its claws dug into the man’s flesh, but other than letting out a grunt of pain, the blacksmith didn’t let go.

“I’m sorry, Rog…” the man said through gritted teeth. “I’m so sorry. This is not the end either of us deserves.”

The only response he got was another angry roar. It pulled its hand out of Goulth’s back, spraying a mist of blood in the air, before it dug down once again, in a different spot this time.

The blacksmith let out another grunt of pain, but he still didn’t let go.

“I will put us both… Out of this misery.”

He unclenched one of his fists, revealing a piece of animal hide, as well as a soft, golden light. Even in its crumpled up state, the infernal rune still glowed, full of unknown power.

When Red saw this, he stopped running and turned around.

The ghoul’s hand dug down again onto Goulth’s back, the undead now entering in a frenzied state at his refusal to let go while its prey got away. The blacksmith, however, seemed impervious to this pain as he dragged the rune by the undead hunter’s chest and into the area where Red had carved a large gash with his sword.

Goulth let out another roar as he shoved the rune into the open wound.

The golden glow intensified into a blinding light, obfuscating its surroundings, causing Red to have to cover his eyes even with his dark vision. Then, a moment later, there was an explosion.

When the light disappeared, a gory sight was revealed before the youth. Sprinkles of blood reached him even from dozens of meters away, raining down from above for a handful of seconds. The result of the explosion was much stronger than anything the youth had been anticipating, and this was evident by the aftermath at its core.

What remained of Rog was a dismembered lower body, which fell down with no strength to support. What remained of his upper body was spread around the epicenter of the explosion, and no further movement came from them.

Red felt the hunter’s fluctuation disappear for eternity. He was in a daze, but he didn’t have time to process the weight of this loss.

Goulth hadn’t escaped the explosion unscathed either. His left arm had disappeared from the elbow down, caught in the explosion, only leaving a gory stump behind. The man, now covered in blood from head to toe, fell down to his knees before toppling to the ground.

Red, however, could still feel his fluctuation, wavering like a candle’s flame in the wind.

The youth ran towards his side without hesitation. Yet, as he crouched down by his master’s side to examine his wounds, he felt another force spread from his fluctuation. An infection.

A pained groan came from Goulth’s mouth, somehow still conscious despite all his wounds.

“… D-don’t… Don’t let me…”

The blacksmith seemed to feel Red’s presence by his side, but he was too weak to finish his sentence.

Yet the youth knew what he meant to say. The undead malediction already spread through his master’s bloodstream, and he wouldn’t allow the man to have his rest violated by this curse.

He took out a dagger from his pouch, holding it with both hands like a stake over the side of Goulth’s head. The only way to stop an undead is to cause enough damage to their brains.

Red took a deep breath and closed his eyes. “… I won’t let your sacrifice be for nothing.”

There was no response from the blacksmith.

Then, the youth stabbed down. He felt his dagger pierce through to the hilt, and once it found purchase, he twisted the blade with a forceful movement. The blacksmith’s fluctuation slowly disappeared, and with it, so did the infection Red felt spreading through his being.

Only when it was truly gone did he open his eyes again. The youth pulled out his dagger, tossing it aside. He didn’t look down at his master’s body before getting up, and turned around to observe the ongoing battle in the sky.

The situation seemed to have changed once more. No longer did Hector’s sword interfere with the battle between the ghosts as often, and now the black-dressed woman’s figure was not revealed any longer, merging fully with the mists. As for Aurelia’s situation…

Red picked up the crystal core and notice its light had diminished once more. In fact, it seemed to lose a bit of its brilliance with every clash in the sky. It wouldn’t last much longer, by the looks of it.

The youth put the core away before turning to look in another direction. Domeron was still struggling against his infection, though it seemed like this was destined to be a losing battle as the infection seemed to have spread even further. The illusory spirit in front of him seemed was roaring towards the skies with reckless abandon, resenting not being able to join the combat, and struggling against its invisible shackles.

It felt as if it was just a matter of time until it broke free of Domeron’s control.

Red thought to himself for a second before making a decision. He started to walk in the swordsman’s direction. The wound in his back flared in pain, but the youth, accustomed to much worse, fought through it and kept moving.

A few seconds later, the same warning from earlier came to him, causing him to stumble. A warning of danger, of the doom that awaited him if he approached that spirit.

This time, though, the youth didn’t stop. He took another step, even as his own body seemed to reject the very idea of getting closer to Domeron.

Yet Red knew this reaction wasn’t from him. It was from the crimson mist hiding in the pit of his stomach. He now knew that despite its lack of response, the being was always very aware of everything happening in its surroundings.

His expanded awareness reached towards it, as Red entered a meditative state while he still struggled to walk forward.

“I will do this, whether you help me or not.” He conveyed his resolve.

“… You will die.” A weak response came from the crimson being. “It will kill you.”

“I will die if I don’t do this… I need to take his sword.”

Domeron wouldn’t recover from his infection, this the youth knew very well. Yet, the enemy was still there, as strong as ever, while Hector and Aurelia were becoming weaker every second. The only hope Red had of getting closer to that woman and finishing this fight was with the swordsman’s power.

He needed to take control of the Spirit of Slaughter.

Yet, the youth still sensed the hesitation from the crimson mist. Even at this juncture, something still held it back.

“Where’s your anger from earlier?” Red asked. “Your indignation? You hate this spirit, or what it represents. You have been wronged by it, I can feel it. So why do you still hesitate? Why not fight it and take control?”

“… I can’t win.” The mist said. “I lost back then, and I will lose once more.”

There was a melancholy behind its words that the youth felt deep within his mind. However, he didn’t have time to comfort the being, and neither did he want to. Too much was riding on this, too many people and their wishes relying on him, and he wouldn’t be stopped by its lingering emotions.

“If you won’t help, then don’t be in the way.” Red said. “You might have lost, but I won’t.”

The crimson mist offered no response, so the youth retracted his awareness.

He tried to take another step forward towards Domeron, and this time, there was no sudden sense of rejection from his body. It seemed as if the crimson mist had listened to his wishes.

By this point, he was no more than a few dozens meters from the swordsman, and it seemed as if the Spirit of Slaughter had finally noticed him. It turned around, letting out a soundless roar in the youth’s direction.

Red felt his mind shake, and he stumbled on the spot. It seemed as if the crimson mist wasn’t lying. This spirit was really going to kill him if he got any closer.

‘… Yet, it still hasn’t attacked.’

The youth didn’t know what this meant, but it led him to a single conclusion. He could still get closer.

He recovered his balance and continued to approach Domeron. The ogre-like spirit seemed increasingly frantic as Red got closer, and yet, just like earlier, it still didn’t attack him. Or perhaps it was simply unable to.

He came to a sudden realization as he looked over at Domeron.

The swordsman turned his head to stare at Red. He had a pained expression, the black veins having almost climbed all the way up to his forehead. Yet, the man still held on.

A strained smile formed on Domeron’s face. “… I-It wants to kill you.”

Red nodded, his steps slowing down. “I know.”

The swordsman breathed through gritted teeth, as if gathering the strength to speak. “It will… It will try to devour you.”

The youth nodded once more. “I know, but it’s the only way.”

Domeron let out what seemed like a laugh, followed by a grunt of pain. “You need to be strong… You need to win.”

“… I will.”

The man nodded and extended his trembling sword hand towards Red. “T-Then take it, before…”

He trailed off, the effort taking too much out of him to speak any more.

Red approached Domeron, closing in the last ten meters between them. The illusory spirit struggled with all its might against its invisible bindings, raising its fist to smash the youth. Yet, it was unable to bring them down.

Something held it back. Or rather, someone.

Red met Domeron’s eyes, sensing the resolve behind them. Then he extended his right hand and grabbed the flaming longsword with conviction.

The next moment, everything burned.