"An uninvited guest… welcome."
The words echoed softly as soon as Lloyd stepped into the mansion. Before he could even begin exploring, a pale white spirit appeared before him. Though it spoke of an "unwelcome guest," there was no hostility in its tone.
"Please… heed my master Midra's warning."
"Do not approach the madness."
The apparition wasn't a complete soul, only a lingering fragment of will—an echo bound to this place, trying to dissuade any who dared come close.
But this warning wasn't meant to protect its master. It was meant to protect those who entered.
Heh…
"This place," came a voice thick with amusement and flame, "harbors a 'Lord of Frenzied Flame' yet to be born."
As a surge of mad fire erupted, Chaos materialized beside Lloyd.
The white spirit, still mid-speech, froze the moment Chaos appeared. It trembled violently before dissolving into the wall, retreating into a corner and falling silent.
Chaos paid it no mind. After briefly sharing a familiar, almost affectionate exchange with Lloyd, he followed behind him as they began their exploration. His voice carried through the empty halls.
"It was long ago," he said. "Before the Land of Shadow was severed… before the Golden Dynasty's rise. There lived here a sage named Midra—a scholar devoted to research and discovery."
"He was of the Hornsent kind, but unlike his kin. Perhaps because he himself was born without horns… or perhaps simply by nature. Though by race he was a horned one, he lacked their extremism. He loved books, study, and knowledge—and had a keen curiosity for all things new."
"In time, whether due to disagreements with his kin or because this valley held something that intrigued him, Midra left the Hornsent settlement. He built his own manse here, a place of study and sanctuary, even taking in those persecuted or cast aside by the horned folk."
Chaos smiled faintly. "He was a good horned one."
A spark fell from the ceiling and landed on a nearby desk, igniting into a tiny, shapeless flame. It pulsed erratically—swelling, contracting—as if on the verge of bursting.
Before it could, a pale, delicate hand reached out. Fingers soft and slender pinched the ember up, holding it to the light for a brief moment before flicking it aside.
The small flame arced through the air and struck a Hornsent warrior who had just turned the corner. The harmless-looking ember instantly exploded into roaring fire, engulfing him in mad flames that devoured his body and melted his eyes into burning pus. His screams echoed briefly before he crumbled into ash.
Chaos continued his story.
"But you know how it is—in this world, good people rarely meet good ends."
"One day, Midra took in a woman from a distant land. Her name was Nanaya—a witch."
"But not an ordinary witch. She was one who worshiped the Frenzied Flame—a Frenzied Flame witch."
"Don't misunderstand," Chaos added lightly. "She wasn't Elizabeth. My followers and I despise deceit. From the very beginning, Nanaya confessed what she was. And even knowing this, Midra chose to shelter her."
"But unlike before, his kindness this time wasn't purely compassion. He had another reason—and I'm sure you've already guessed it."
"Yes," Chaos said, his voice tinged with amusement. "He wanted to use Nanaya as a medium—to study the Frenzied Flame itself."
"Whether it was his strangely gentle nature—so unlike the Hornsent—or his curiosity as a researcher, Midra believed the Frenzied Flame was simply another form of power. He thought its god was no different from the others—something that could be studied, even communicated with."
"He was wrong."
...
After pushing deeper into the ruins and cutting down a few Hornsent spirits and warriors, they encountered more Frenzied Flame creatures.
This time, though, none attacked. The moment the infected beings saw Lloyd and Chaos, they fell back, clearing the path. Their pus-lit eyes lifted toward them, gazing upward with reverence—like subjects before their lord—burning with fervent hope.
Soon after, they came upon the remains of a woman seated in a chair, her skeletal arms still clutching a torch fashioned from a human spine.
[Nanaya's Candleflame]
[A short vertebra torch, its tip burning with a fading Frenzied Flame.]
[Born in an age long past, far from this land—this was the final fate of one who could never become the Lord of Frenzied Flame.]
[Nanaya gently embraced this flame.]
As Lloyd picked up the torch, Chaos's voice rose again, low and steady.
One was a sage, shunned by his own kind, who lived in solitude at the bottom of a deep valley, dedicating his life to study.
The other was a witch despised for her faith—one who had never known kindness or warmth.
At first, Midra only wished to gain knowledge of the Frenzied Flame through conversation with her.
"But as time passed, and their talks continued, they began to grow closer," Chaos said softly. "Feelings began to take root between them."
"The lonely sage found someone who understood him. The lonely witch found warmth she had never felt before. In time, they leaned on one another—inseparable from that moment on."
Chaos paused, then let out a quiet sigh.
"To be honest, I had my reservations about all this back then," he admitted.
"Simply put, I gave Nanaya a task—to find someone with the potential to become the next 'Lord of Frenzied Flame.' But while Midra may have been a sage, he simply wasn't qualified. So I didn't want Nanaya wasting her time on him..."
He gave a faint, rueful laugh.
"But in the end, for that man, she abandoned her mission. She stayed here with him."
"Still, I didn't interfere. I didn't even get angry. Do you know why?"
Chaos reached out, gently brushing his hand over Nanaya's skeletal face, then shook his head.
"Because I knew that even if I did nothing, their fate was already sealed."
And indeed, Chaos's premonition proved correct.
Their happiness didn't last.
During one of his experiments, Midra came into contact with a 'Forbidden Okina' and became infected with the Frenzied Flame.
Even so, it wasn't hopeless. At that point, he had only contracted the Frenzied Flame sickness—not its full corruption—and with a skilled witch like Nanaya beside him, they managed to contain it. Not only did they prevent it from spreading further, they even protected everyone else in the manor from infection.
But word eventually reached his kin.
And that was the end of it.
When the horned folk heard of what had happened, they erupted in outrage. Already resentful of Midra's tolerance and his fascination with strange ideas, they stormed into the manor, slaughtered everyone within, and drove a barbed golden greatsword—the "Eternal Punishment Blade"—through his skull, condemning him to live in endless pain.
Yet, to their horror, after the massacre, the Frenzied Flame didn't fade—it spread. Without the special countermeasures they had brought, every one of them would have perished there.
Even then, those methods could only suppress the symptoms of Frenzied Flame disease. Against the true essence of madness, they were almost useless.
And so, surrounded by carnage and ruin, Midra—his body already infected, his mind breaking—could have easily given in, become a true vessel of the Frenzied Flame. As he watched everyone he loved die, the thought surely crossed his mind: If I'm to die, let's burn together.
But...
[The words of Nanaya were Midra's pillar—]
[Please endure.]
[Those words became his curse.]
After losing everyone, even Nanaya, the solitary sage fell to his knees in the empty halls of his home.
Enduring pain beyond measure, he used the same golden greatsword driven through his skull—meant to punish and torment him—to suppress the Frenzied Flame within, keeping it sealed, so it could not spill out and consume the world.
And he has continued that way—until today.
...
After pressing onward and pushing open the golden Fog Gate, Lloyd finally saw him.
[Lord of Frenzied Flame · Midra]
The name sounded regal and dreadful. But the figure before him was nothing of the sort.
A frail, desiccated body. A creature that could only croak and shriek incoherently. Once-grand robes now reduced to ragged strips hanging from his frame. A golden sword, bristling with thorns, impaled through his skull. Pitiful. Broken.
And it wasn't just his appearance.
Perhaps driven insane by unending agony, Midra began to wail and crawl toward Lloyd the moment he appeared, lashing out at him mindlessly.
But his "attacks" were pitiful—crawling across the floor, clawing weakly when close, or lifting his head just to emit a cracked, animal scream.
This was Midra's way of fighting.
His movements were clumsy, his patterns predictable, his numbers pitiful. Calling him an "elite enemy" would've been a compliment.
After a few failed attempts to communicate, Lloyd simply drew his weapon. It only took a few strikes before Midra's first health bar was gone.
But that wasn't the end.
Or rather—the real battle was only beginning.
As the last of his health faded, Midra slowly pushed himself up from the ground. His voice trembled with agony and despair.
"It's been… so long. Surely that's enough…"
After untold years of torment, Midra grasped the Eternal Punishment Claymore embedded in his skull for the first time.
Then came the sickening sound of tearing flesh and grinding bone as he wrenched the barbed blade—along with his own head—free.
Madness ignited.
"Forgive me, Nanaya."
His frail, skeletal body rose, clutching the weapon that had been his endless torment. Golden horns unfurled from its blade, glistening with his blood.
Where his head had once been, a fireball with a black core began to form, feeding on his pain and despair until it swelled and burned, taking shape as a sun of Frenzied Flame.
[Lord of Frenzied Flame · Midra]
Now, the title finally suited him.
But...
Just as Midra prepared to unleash all his pent-up rage upon the intruder before him—
He froze.
He felt something. A familiar presence.
The aura of the Frenzied Flame.
Under his gaze, Lloyd slowly lifted his head. A frenzy-yellow fire flickered within his eyes—then erupted, expanding a thousandfold in an instant, devouring his entire head in a blinding blaze.
The sun rose.
A vast, searing sun of Frenzied Flame appeared before him—its light so fierce it warped time and space itself.
Midra went still.
He had released the flame within, burning away centuries of pain and despair to briefly claim the power of a Lord of Frenzied Flame.
But compared to the sun before him, his own light was nothing—like a firefly before the noonday sun.
"Come," the sun spoke.
In its hand appeared a greatsword wreathed in frenzied fire.
"Let us see whose pain… and whose despair… burns brighter."
Even as the pressure crushed him to the ground, Midra drew a breath. He raised his sword and took a step forward.
...And then—there was nothing.
What followed couldn't even be called a fight. It was annihilation.
Midra had never been a warrior. Even with his newfound power, his strength and awareness were utterly outmatched. The blazing sun before him crushed him completely.
He struggled, slashed wildly, trying desperately to strike even once. But his blows were meaningless—each swing swallowed by the burning radiance.
When at last his body collapsed, his health gone, the sun stood untouched. Not a mark on his skin. Not a speck of ash on his robes.
Yet despite the humiliation of defeat, peace washed over Midra. After so many years of torment, he had long wished for death. Only Nanaya's final words had kept him alive.
And now, though fallen and broken, death seemed almost merciful.
But...
Just as Midra closed his eyes to embrace the end, the sun stepped closer. It bent down and placed something on his body.
He barely noticed. What did it matter now?
Then he felt it—a warmth trickling along his neck. A scent. Familiar.
His breath caught. His body, his very soul, trembled.
"...Nanaya?"
There was no answer.
But the dying embers of his madness flared once more.
This time, it wasn't pain or despair that fueled it—but something else. Something that had allowed him to endure them both.
Midra rose again.
His head was still a blazing sun, but within it, faint outlines of his former self began to take shape.
Behind him, the ghostly figure of a woman clung to his back—one arm wrapped around his neck, the other holding a torch made from a spine.
Then the Frenzied Flame erupted once more.
But this was no longer the wild, chaotic flame of madness. Within it burned something new—something whole.
This was the Frenzied Flame in its true, complete form.
When the flames finally settled, Midra looked toward the sun. It nodded, gesturing toward the sword in his hand.
Understanding the invitation, Midra lifted his weapon once more.
No hesitation. No fear.
['Nanaya's King' · Midra]
BOOM!