Back in Trickstarr's realm, the mad illusionist hovered high upon his throne of cards, arms spread wide like a conductor before an orchestra of chaos. The throne pulsed with arcane energy—suits shifting, flickering, rotating beneath him like a deck mid-shuffle.
"So then, my dear bleeding hound," Trickstarr purred, voice echoing unnaturally, "what's your grand plan now?"
Ren stood below—barely.
His body screamed with pain. Bruises bloomed like ink stains across torn skin. Blood trickled from a jagged gash on his shoulder, soaking into his tattered uniform. Each breath was ragged, raw.
But his hand still gripped the sword.
Andre's voice echoed in his mind:
"An essence user always has an ultimate... could be a giant blast, a buff, hell, even a realm. But if it's a realm—run. Realms are traps. They don't just fight you—they change the rules."
He narrowed his eyes, the pain sharpening into focus. "Just like Airi had said… I have to defeat him to get out of this place."
Ren drew in a breath.
Steady.
Focused.
"I'm going to finish this," he muttered.
Then—
He charged.
The floating cards trembled underfoot, shuffling and snapping with his every step. His boots hit one after another like skipping stones across a storm-tossed sea. His sword flashed in hand, roaring with the last dregs of his strength, burning essence crackling along its edge.
Monsters surged forward.
Twisted things—mockeries of playing cards turned flesh. Some bore face-card insignias carved into their flesh, others had elongated claws like spades, or wore warped jester masks that rattled as they howled.
CLASH.
Steel met flesh. Sparks flew. Screams tore through the air—his, theirs, it blurred together.
Ren ducked beneath a hulking brute with club-shaped arms, then drove his blade up through its gut, tearing it open in a burst of ink-black blood.
But another monster slammed into him from behind, knocking him down onto a new card platform. He rolled instinctively, just in time to bring the sword up—
CLANG!
It stopped a jagged claw inches from his throat. He pushed, twisted, kicked it off.
But they were endless.
He slashed. Stabbed. Spun. Screamed.
Trickstarr watched from above, one leg draped over the arm of his throne, lips curled in delight.
"Well, look who finally gave up his cute little no-kill rule," he said, mock-clapping. "How refreshing."
Ren drove his sword through a beast's skull.
But then his body gave out.
A red, blade-limbed creature slashed across his ribs—SHNK.
He staggered.
Another slammed into him, driving him backward.
A third hit. Then a fourth.
Ren collapsed to his knees.
His sword slipped from his fingers, skidding across the card and tumbling into the yawning void below.
He coughed. Choked. Blood spattered the ground.
His vision blurred and doubled, the world spinning sideways. His chest rose and fell in uneven, desperate gulps.
He couldn't move.
The monsters crept closer, circling like wolves—spade-blades gleaming, hollow jester grins flickering in the distorted light.
Trickstarr leaned forward slightly, grin widening.
"Oh, Ren... trying so hard to act like the hero."
He waved a hand, and the monsters paused mid-step—obedient.
"But we both know that's bullshit."
His voice was velvet now, low and close, like it was speaking straight into Ren's skull.
"You're not doing this to save anyone. You're not a knight. You're not noble. You just… don't want to feel powerless anymore."
Monsters lurked around him like shadows. Snarling. Hungry.
Ren's hand twitched.
His fingers curled against the trembling card floor. Still breathing. Still conscious.
Trickstarr floated closer, eyes glowing faint gold.
"So tell me—what is it you really want?"
Ren shivered.
Not from pain. From the truth gnawing in his chest.
His lips parted. Voice cracking, broken.
"I want… to save Airi."
Trickstarr arched a brow, tone mocking.
"Why?"
The word sliced sharper than a blade.
Ren closed his eyes.
Memories flooded him in flashes—her hands tugging his hood down when he wanted to hide. The way she laughed when he grumbled about drama practice. How she kicked his shin when he needed it. The warmth of her voice. Her stubbornness. Her stupid puns. Her fierce heart.
"Because…"
His voice trembled.
"She was the only one who stayed. After my parents died, after everything went quiet... she stayed."
He opened his eyes.
"Airi was my only friend. The only one who… didn't treat me differently. She just… dragged me along and made me feel like I was still human."
His voice cracked again, but he didn't stop.
"She annoyed the hell out of me. But she helped me. She pulled me out of the numbness."
A silence fell between them—thick and real.
"And I was wrong for what I said to her during the fireworks festival."
His fingers curled tighter, nails scraping the lacquered card.
"She was trying to help. And I pushed her away. Said things I didn't mean because I was upset."
Tears mixed with blood on his cheek.
"I don't just want to save her because she's in danger."
He looked up—eyes burning with something deeper than pain.
"I want to save her because I love her."
A beat.
Then—
Clap.
Clap.
Clap.
Trickstarr grinned from ear to ear as he slow-clapped, the sound echoing unnaturally across the card realm.
"Ah, there it is," he cooed, eyes gleaming gold. "The confession scene. Delightful. Passionate. So very final-act-of-a-play."
He spun once, his coat fanning out like a curtain.
"A broken boy, trembling at the edge of death, declaring his love in the jaws of madness—mmm!" He kissed his fingers theatrically. "Perfect."
He turned back toward Ren with a tilt of the head.
Trickstarr's grin stretched wider, lips parting into a crescent of cruel delight.
"Too bad…" He leaned in slightly, gold eyes gleaming like crescent moons. "…she isn't real."
Ren blinked.
The words slid past his ears at first—soft, absurd. Unreal. But then the weight of them hit.
"What…?" Ren's voice cracked. "What are you talking about?"
Trickstarr gave a lazy shrug, stepping backward as if to give the stage some space.
"Oh, Ren. Sweet, desperate Ren. You poor thing."
He twirled once more, cards fluttering from his sleeves like confetti.
"She was never real to begin with."
The world tilted.
"No. That's not—" Ren shook his head, voice rising with panic. "She was sitting beside me every day at school and hung out with me! You are lying!"
"Am I?" Trickstarr cooed. "Why don't you ask her, then?"
Ren froze.
Behind him, the air shimmered—like heat bending the edge of reality.
He turned—
And the battlefield changed.
The card beneath his feet dissolved into fluttering red petals.
A new space bled into being. The never-ending floor from his dreams.
A vast field of glowing lycoris radiata, crimson and luminous beneath a paper-white sky streaked with serene blue and trailing lazy clouds, like brushstrokes across a canvas that had forgotten its frame. The horizon was gone. The field had no edge.
And standing there… not far, not near—just there, as if she always had been—
Her.
The girl from his dreams. The silhouette that had haunted him—always out of reach, always blurred, face indistinct—
But now, her face was clear.
Airi.