All eyes were on the Saintess’s Spire, where Zenos faced off against the fell dragon king.
“I happen to be confident in the speed of my spells,” Zenos said.
Chants made spells more powerful, but it was possible to cast without chanting. Had Galhamut completely stopped time around Zenos, he wouldn’t have been able to do anything, but without devouring the saintess, all the dragon could do was slow the flow of time. The real danger lay in being caught off guard by a surprise attack, but even with time slowed by ninety percent, as long as Zenos knew the dragon was about to strike, he would still be able to get a spell to activate.
That was how much he’d honed his magic between his mentor’s lessons and his self-study sessions while with his former party.
“Preposterous!” Galhamut bellowed. Consumed by rage, he once again opened his jaws wide and slowed the flow of time around them. “Dragon’s Breath!”
Once. Twice. Three times. Four. Five.
Black flames, powerful enough to incinerate anything in their path, surged forth repeatedly at Zenos. But amid the roaring inferno, he simply smiled and slowly stepped forward.
“Should you be slowing time that much? Doesn’t that take a lot of mana?” he asked.
The look of panic on Galhamut’s face was all the confirmation Zenos needed.
“All right,” he said, flexing the fingers of his right hand. “Looks like I can move well enough now.”
Zenos could move his mouth, hands, and feet. However mighty Galhamut was, he had just awakened, and likely used up most of his mana—the flow of time in the altar chamber was slowly returning to normal.
“Time for healing, then.”
Galhamut was the severe rot that had long plagued the kingdom. And who else could deal with plagues, if not a healer?
As Zenos raised both hands forward, Galhamut flapped his wings wide and lifted into the sky.
“Who in blazes are you?!” the dragon demanded.
“I keep having to answer this question, but I’m just a plain ol’ shadow healer.”
“Pathetic human! Your kind is nothing but prey! Weak, puny insects that shatter at a mere touch!”
Galhamut swooped down from above, baring his fangs at Zenos, who aimed both hands at him.
“We do, yeah. That’s why healers like me exist,” Zenos replied. “Giga Heal!”
From his raised palms burst forth a surge of pure-white light. As it flew straight up toward Galhamut from atop the Saintess’s Spire, the light took the shape of a sharp, brilliant arrow—and pierced straight through the fell dragon king.
A white shock wave tore through the air, making the skies themselves rumble. Holy magic scorched away Galhamut’s jet-black scales, mingling with the light of the setting sun as it began to purify the dragon’s exposed flesh.
“Graaah! Aaaaaaaargh!”
Galhamut’s vision turned white—a blank void, the very future his foresight had predicted. With a final cry of agony that echoed across the capital, the fell dragon king turned to black dust and scattered in the wind.
With their master slain, the smaller dragons rampaging through the city also turned to ash one after another.
“Phew, I’m beat...”
Zenos gripped what little remained of the collar of what had once been his black cloak, now torn to shreds thanks to Galhamut’s onslaught.
“Sorry I ruined your keepsake, master,” Zenos murmured. “You’ll forgive me, yeah?”
The healing light sparkled and drifted on the wind across the skies of the capital, gently raining down over the heads of the people below. Having survived an unprecedented crisis, they were now crying out in joy, arms around each other, unconcerned with social status.
✦ ✦ ✦
“Whoooa! He did it! He really did it!”
In a room of the nearly collapsed royal palace, the seven great nobles cheered. Lord Giesz stood with his hands held high, and next to him, a flushed Lord Fennel turned to Albert Baycladd.
“Is he... Is that young man the hope of which you spoke?”
“He is indeed,” Albert confirmed with a nod, his expression thoughtful.
Lord Fennel tilted his head. “But who is he? I’m quite familiar with most adventurers, but I have no memory of that man.”
“He...”
Albert trailed off, smiling faintly.
“Truthfully, I’m not sure, myself. I’m afraid I couldn’t tell you.”
✦ ✦ ✦
“Bro! You did it, brooo!!!”
With no regard for appearances, a young man sobbed openly among the healers gathered at the Royal Institute.
“Stop bawling, Cress. All that snot is kind of gross.”
“You’re hurting my feelings, Umin!”
Despite her words, Umin herself was laughing with tears in her eyes.
As the two bantered, a small boy with bobbed hair approached Becker from behind.
“Seriously, what’s with that guy? He just handled it solo. He’s as outrageous as he’s ever been,” Jose muttered.
“I know exactly what you mean,” Becker agreed.
Jose sighed. “And here I was, thinking I was impressive just because I’m the youngest of the elite healers. I’m ashamed...”
“Jose...”
Becker let out a soft breath and smiled sincerely.
“You and I should just do what we’re able. As the ordinary healers we are.”
✦ ✦ ✦
At the nobles’ school, Ledelucia Academy, a joyful circle had formed around Charlotte.
“He did it, Lady Charlotte!” Ilya exclaimed, bouncing excitedly.
“Holy damn! That was crazy!” Ryan yelled, busting out a victory pose.
“To think our teacher was this amazing,” Eleanor murmured, moved.
Charlotte repeatedly wiped at the corners of her eyes. “Of course. I recommended him myself, after all.”
✦ ✦ ✦
In the first-floor hall of the Royal Guard’s headquarters, a blue-eyed blonde approached Seagall, who sat on the ground clutching his knee.
“It’s over, Sir Seagall. How is your leg injury?” she asked.
“Vice Commander Krishna,” he replied, placing his hands on the ground to push himself to his feet. “That white wind eased the pain quite a bit. Who in blazes is that man? How can he cast a healing spell covering this much ground?”
“My savior, and now, the nation’s savior as well.”
Seagall cast a dazed glance at the Saintess’s Spire. “I’m suddenly reminded that I once wished to be a hero like that too.”
Krishna gazed at his profile and smiled faintly. “You still can be. The capital will need large-scale restoration. We’ll require as many heroes as we can get.” She gave him a solid smack on the back. “Now, if your pain has subsided, lend us a hand. We have a mountain of work to do.”
Seagall shrugged, smiled, and raised his hand in a salute.
“Still tough as nails, eh? As you command, Lady Iron Rose.”
✦ ✦ ✦
Near the nobles’ district in the city, a group of four women headed for the Saintess’s Spire learned of the battle’s end.
“I knew the doctor could do it!” Roa exclaimed.
“Oh, he’s so gallant,” Grace added joyfully.
Next to them, the sword saint, Aska, and the hero of the northern front, Melissa, wore sullen expressions.
“Why the long face, master?” Roa asked.
“She’s right! Why so gloomy, Captain? Isn’t this a good thing?”
The two women pouted slightly.
“We were too slow. I wanted to repay Zenos by helping him,” Aska muttered.
“Exactly. We came all this way and couldn’t be of any use,” Melissa grumbled.
But the voices of townspeople rang out from behind them.
“Th-Thank you! You saved us!”
Before arriving here, the two had taken down over a hundred small dragons.
Roa and Grace glanced at each other, exchanging exasperated smiles.
“They were of a lot of use, I think,” Roa commented.
“These two are so alike,” Grace mused. “I feel like they’ll be good friends.”