The little dragon cried out, tears welling in its eyes. It leapt from Eryke's shoulder and flew toward the gaping wound in Ignis.
It licked the golden injuries, as if trying to heal them.
But nothing changed.
The wounds could not be healed.
Ignis's tired pupils lingered on his little princess, then on Eryke, for one final time.
"You'd better protect my baby, Eryke."
With those words, he slowly closed his eyes, surrendering to a peaceful rest.
Eryke remained silent and expressionless.
Not a flicker of emotion crossed his face.
But who could say what storm brewed within?
At that very moment, the final shape of something formed in his mind:
A massive, simple black sword made of haze, its sharp edge gleaming in his mind.
Even a mere glance at it radiated a terrifying sharpness.
Eryke slowly opened his eyes, gazing at the lifeless body of Ignis and the little dragon still crying beside it.
He closed his eyes again, trying to calm the storm of emotions within.
