Initially, Micky had considered using a technique similar to Percy’s Fifth Parade – Dead Man’s Shroud – to suffocate Lord Parnassus inside the scattered pieces of the Cloak, much like what his friend had done to that assassin years ago.

The problem was that a Violet would have a much easier time breaking out of the reinforced cocoon – something that Deimos had already proven. Even worse, Micky wasn’t able to regenerate the fabric fast enough to keep a powerful opponent trapped.

This was why he’d opted for a different approach, using his domain, advanced magiscript knowledge, Instantaneous Formation spell, and potent soul-freezing ice mana to create a different trap for the patriarch.

‘Thankfully, it worked out in the end…’

Micky sighed. After feeling the ethereal chains wrapped around his mind crumble unceremoniously, he took a moment to appreciate his reclaimed freedom. Since he no longer had to worry about the patriarch’s annoying bloodline, he shapeshifted into a giant crow and flew to intercept the plummeting corpse.

Micky didn’t expect to find valuable loot inside the man’s spatial amulet – though he was certainly going to check anyway. More importantly, he wasn’t going to waste the rare and nourishing meal.

His beak clamped shut around the patriarch’s torso, bisecting him. Swallowing the fragmented core along with a mouthful of mangled flesh that got caught with it, Micky allowed the rest to fall to the ground.

He briefly considered eating everything, but he ultimately decided against it, not seeing any reason to bother. The Violet’s flesh barely contained any mana, and devouring the mass of an adult human would force Micky to remain in a larger form until he fully digested the meal.

He didn’t care about hiding the evidence either.

If anyone came this way, they’d instantly know that a couple of Violets – or at least multiple Blues – had fought seriously and for an extended period of time. The ravaged battlefield was proof enough of that.

Patches of scorched, molten, or frozen ground stretched for a couple of kilometres in every direction. Even the last few spots of grass had been destroyed at some point, leaving nothing but a wasteland behind.

While Micky could get rid of the body if he wanted, it wouldn’t be long before the rest of Remior registered the patriarch’s absence and connected him to the ruined area. After all, Violets didn’t go missing every day, and nobody would think that this level of devastation happening around the same time was coincidental.

Furthermore, there was no way that Percy and Micky could wash their hands of the man’s death. Even on the off chance that Lord Parnassus hadn’t told anyone that he was planning to come after him, people would likely connect the dots due to his bloodline and relationship to the deceased Holy Child.

Besides, Micky had nothing to hide, nor be ashamed of. The Violet had attacked him first, and even had the gall to use his disgusting bloodline on him – much like his son had done, years ago. Thankfully, Percy was no longer the lowly fugitive he’d once been, so nobody would argue if they explained the situation.

‘It’ll probably be fine even if we don’t say anything, actually. Still, I need to get the hell away from here before Machaon hears word of this battle and decides to come looking for me…’ Micky thought.

Flying to the nearest intact part of the road leading towards his destination and landing on the paved dirt, he shifted back into his Huehuan form for a second. The normal-sized version – not a giant. He would have to disguise himself into a random human and leave soon, but he wanted a moment to examine himself now that he had finally regained some clarity of mind.

Before doing that, he lifted his upper-right hand up, vomiting a bloody object into his palm. It was a black, cube-shaped artifact, strung on a thin, broken chain. Pouring mana into one of the spatial amulet’s faces, Micky caused it to enlarge and open, scanning its contents.

Sure enough, the only things of value were a bunch of elixirs and some money.

Strictly speaking, there was a lot of both – more than he or Percy had ever looted from a single corpse. However, their pockets weren’t as tight as they had been in the past, so it wouldn’t really affect their finances. That said, Micky saw no reason to let the resources go to waste. Storing anything even remotely useful inside his seal, he ditched the rest.

Then, he finally moved on to what he actually wanted to do.

Scanning himself from head to toe, he clenched and unclenched his fists a few times. He understood that his original body was gone forever, and that he no longer had Huehuan blood – or any type of blood, really – flowing through his veins. His tattooed exterior was little more than an icy shell, appearing like flesh due to his Chameleon’s Skin.

‘It doesn’t matter,’ he thought, shaking his head. ‘This is good enough. Better than anything I could have asked for, even.’

Micky could feel and do everything he used to be able to do in the past – in addition to a million new things. His mind was back too. Micky remembered everything, and he had even rediscovered what was most important to him during this latest battle.

Support creative writers by reading their stories on NovelBin, not stolen versions.

Hell, he had even reclaimed his independence. If he decided to bid Percy farewell and go on his merry way, he knew that his friend wouldn’t force him to keep fighting by his side. Of course, Micky had no intention of abandoning his soulmate like that.

Not now. Not ever. But that was beside the point.

“I’m back…” he muttered, almost struggling to believe it. “Percy… that crazy bastard has actually done it!”

Micky shuddered as the weight of those words hit him. This wasn’t anything new per se. Micky had slowly regained pieces of his existence and identity over the past few decades, yet it was only now that the process was truly complete.

His friend had been nothing but a clueless teenager during their first meeting. Percy hadn’t known the first thing about his bloodline or affinity at the time, and Micky had been little more than a stranger to him.

A dying stranger that Percy had barely spent a couple of days with.

Even so, Percy had resolved to doing the impossible – to bring Micky back from the dead. Since then, he’d never given up for a moment. It had taken so many years, and they’d had to overcome so many obstacles, but Percy had pulled through every single time.

He’d healed Micky’s soul, rebuilt his body, and restored his mind – one piece at a time – until there was nothing truly valuable missing.

“I’m back,” he said again, some excitement spilling into his voice.

Micky opened his beak wide and burst into boisterous laughter, cold tears forming by the corners of his eyes. If anybody saw him, they would think that he had lost his mind, but he didn’t care.

He was actually back. Alive, against all odds.

He was Mictlantecuhtli, a proud warrior of Huehue.

And he was Micky… an aspect of the Lone Wanderer.

***

Percy, who had observed his friend’s entire battle, as well as everything that had transpired inside the man’s mind, finally exhaled in relief. He wanted to lean back and rest, but his consciousness was still floating inside the void of their shared mindscape, so there was nothing to rest on.

‘That was a few too many close calls for my liking,’ he thought, feeling the urge to slap Micky for putting him through this.

This wasn’t their first brush with death, but it was best to avoid fights this dangerous if they could help it. It would have been wiser for Micky to fly away in his crow form before Lord Parnassus got close enough to activate his bloodline, buying time for Percy to help him.

At the same time, Percy understood why his friend had insisted on undertaking this crazy risk by himself, and the results spoke for themselves.

He glanced up at the constellation of the crow looming over him. Its shape and size hadn’t changed, though its colour had. The cyan and amber hues that had previously fought for dominance over the formation were both gone, replaced by a new, uniform colour.

The stars pulsed in unison, the pale light glowing as intensely as the grey stars of Percy’s own constellation. It was through the changes in the shimmering structure, as well as those in Micky’s mental and emotional state, that Percy knew that his friend had finally overcome the last obstacle barring him from his new life.

On top of that, their gains from the battle had vastly exceeded Percy’s wildest dreams.

‘Five new techniques…!’

He gasped. It was a lot, though it sort of made sense in a weird way. The first three – Challenge of the Colossus, Turbulent Lotus, and Dancing Stars – were essentially just new versions of attacks that they had used against Deimos. Micky had merely comprehended and repurposed them into techniques that he could use on his own.

The fourth – Fuzzy World – was ultimately just Soul Vision taken to its logical conclusion, after taking Micky’s status as an elemental into account. That said, the technique had given Percy some inspiration on how he could attempt to upgrade his ocular mutation without having to get his hands on another Decree.

‘Something to try in the future, though it’s not a priority right now.’

He and Micky had already delayed their artificial advancement for way too long. As soon as his friend reached Twilight City and passed the affinity-changing treasure to Nesha, they should both settle down and focus on sending out clones and practicing Internal Magiscript for the next few years.

It was imperative that they raised their strength before Machaon felt ready to attack them.

Other than that, Percy also planned to get more involved with Nephthys’s development at some point. So far, he had intentionally avoided intruding on the former deity’s affairs too much, for several reasons.

He trusted her to know what was best for her, he’d had other things to worry about, and he’d also been afraid of merging with another familiar accidentally. Now that he had finally resolved the situation with Micky and crossed several tasks off his schedule, he could potentially reconsider his relationship with the reincarnated goddess.

He also had to prepare to compete in the void tournament with Kassorith sooner rather than later. Metatron hadn’t given him a strict time limit, but Percy wanted to return to the Vault while he was still Yellow. Besides, if he actually managed to get his hands on a third mana core, it was better to start cleansing and promoting it as soon as possible.

‘Let’s take it one step at a time. The artificial advancement is more urgent than anything else right now.’

Shifting his attention back to the topic at hand, Percy noted that Micky’s fifth technique – Brittle Globe – was essentially a version of their Instantaneous Formation spell – the same one that Percy and his Thess’kalan host had used in the final round of the regional tournament. Micky had simply discovered a way to use it with his own affinities and equipment.

‘This confirms that we can win against regular Violets as individuals,’ Percy thought with a grin.

It hadn’t been an easy fight for his friend, but it was good to know that they had reached this level even without fully tapping into their Ultimate Art or joining forces. And there was another major benefit of Micky’s recent accomplishments.

Focusing on his surroundings, Percy keenly noticed that the Symphony of a Dead Winter had grown louder and clearer once again. Despite the lack of air in his mindscape, he heard a series of howling winds, cawing crows and laughing spectres. The otherwise disparate sounds were tied together by a gentle melody that reminded Percy of the trees in the Whistling Woods.

The echoes of the Lone Wanderer’s Extreme spell were especially intense today – almost as much as they had been during their fight against Deimos. Only, Percy and Micky’s bodies were currently separated by dozens of kilometres in the real world, and even their minds and identities had been partially segregated by a newly erected barrier.

Percy’s grin widened as he pondered over the implications. There was no doubt about it – everything that they had done was precisely what their Ultimate Art had required from them all along.

The next time they joined their forces in earnest, the Symphony of a Dead Winter would be less strenuous and far, far stronger.

[END OF BOOK 5: LORD OF THE FUNGAL SPIRE]

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep