No one had time to breathe after the impact.

  Caelus blinked against the red haze and rising dust. When his vision cleared, his stomach tightened.

  Most of the city was gone.

  The explosion hadn’t been an area-clearing blast. It had been focused. The overwhelming majority of its force had driven straight down into the Land’s Herald. A colossal pit split the district where the lattice once stood, plunging so deep that even the echo of destruction had vanished. Only the tremors remained—rolling upward from the abyss like distant thunder.

  He swallowed.

  Then the next attack came.

  The six fighter jets screamed overhead and unleashed a barrage.

  Ryun cannons roared, lancing concentrated streams of energy into the crater and surrounding streets. Explosions detonated in rapid succession, shockwaves overlapping until the air itself seemed to tear.

  And if that wasn’t enough—

  Coral spikes erupted from the fractured ground.

  Red growths burst outward in jagged spirals, spearing through rubble and wreckage alike, expanding in all directions without discrimination. They pierced everything, tearing through soldiers who hadn’t even regained their footing.

  “Form up!” Kaneel’s voice barked somewhere through the chaos.

  Caelus didn’t wait.

  He flicked his blade outward in a tight arc, spectral blue glyphs igniting around him. The swing carved a circular clearing, shattering incoming coral and deflecting a Ryun volley that would’ve bisected him.

  Debris rained around him.

  He pivoted, scanning for Eirian.

  And that’s when he saw it.

  A white blur.

  It moved impossibly fast—threading between cannon fire and coral spines like light slipping through cracks. Where it passed, bodies fell.

  Effortlessly.

  Clean cuts.

  Precise.

  Murder without pause.

  The blur didn’t slow.

  Didn’t hesitate.

  It carved through soldiers from every faction—Delark’s, Civen’s, even those still stunned from the Herald’s fall.

  Caelus’ grip tightened.

  “Who could that be?,” he muttered.

  The white streak cut through another line of troops, then vanished—

  Only to reappear on top of a warship's defensive platform.

  Caelus pushed forward, spectral energy flaring around his legs as he dashed toward the white streak carving through the battlefield.

  He barely made three strides.

  Gunfire from the jets rained down in precise, coordinated bursts. Ryun rounds tore through the air, detonating in bright blue flares that forced him to pivot mid-motion. He raised his blade, carving an angled glyph to deflect the barrage, but the impact still drove him backward a step.

  He glanced upward.

  Far above, standing casually on the wing of a fighter jet, was a man with locs in grey.

  Or… was it a robe?

  No.

  It looked like a tracksuit?

  The man waved at him.

  Casually.

  As if this were a sporting event.

  Caelus’ eyes narrowed.

  The remaining ships near him suddenly erupted one after another—explosions tearing through their hulls as the white blur tore across their flight paths. Engines failed midair. Wings sheared off. Burning debris spiraled down toward the shattered city.

  The white streak didn’t slow.

  It cut through another squadron.

  Then vanished again.

  Caelus felt it.

  Two powerful presences converging on the same target.

  Ragnart Holt.

  Captain Dereth Kaneel.

  They were moving straight for the white blur.

  Without hesitation, Caelus launched forward, spectral afterimages splitting behind him as he ran across fractured rooftops and collapsing walkways.

  The battlefield shifted around him—jets screaming, coral spikes rising, explosions echoing—but his focus narrowed to a single point.

  The jets cut him off again.

  “Yo, blood. Pay attention!” A voice from above shouted down.

  Caelus looked up just in time to see a spinning sphere of condensed Ryun—bright and deceptively compact—hurling toward him through the volley of cannon fire.

  Was that a basketball?

  He moved to intercept it.

  Blade flashing.

  Then he felt it.

  The shift.

  But it was already too late.

  His sword cleaved the sphere cleanly in two—

  And the bomb detonated.

  White-blue light swallowed him whole.

  —

  Elsewhere—

  Ragnart Holt and Captain Dereth Kaneel had already reached the same conclusion.

  The white blur had to die.

  It moved with surgical efficiency. No wasted motion. No hesitation. Over four hundred casualties in under a minute. Combined with the aerial bombardment from the figure above, it threatened to collapse the entire battlefield.

  Eirian and Caelus would handle the sky.

  They would handle this.

  They landed in unison before the white streak.

  Kaneel raised layered barriers in a tight formation around them, flaming Ryun coalescing into a sword.

  Ragnart drew his massive axe from his back and roared, a Ryun bellow erupting outward. The shout amplified them both, strengthening reflexes, hardening armor, sharpening intent.

  The white blur didn’t slow.

  Ozzy stepped into clarity for half a moment—white blindfold, carved glowing white X in his forehead, white cape billowing behind him.

  He raised his blade.

  Then he moved.

  A flicker step.

  He slipped inside Kaneel’s outer barrier before the second layer could seal. His blade flashed upward, cleaving through the flaming Ryun sword at its core. The fire destabilized instantly.

  He pivoted, elbow striking Kaneel’s chestplate exactly where the Ryun channels converged. The armor shattered inward. Kaneel staggered.

  Ozzy twisted behind him mid-motion, blade carving a horizontal line across Kaneel’s neck. The captain’s barriers collapsed as his body fell.

  Ragnart roared again, axe descending with crushing force.

  Ozzy met it with a diagonal counter—blade sliding along the haft of the axe, redirecting the blow by inches. The momentum carried Ragnart forward—

  Exactly where Ozzy wanted him.

  A palm strike landed against Ragnart’s sternum, Ryun pulsing inward like a detonated heartbeat. The barbarian’s chest caved.

  Ozzy’s blade pierced clean through.

  Ragnart’s roar died mid-breath.

  Both men fell within seconds.

  Ozzy didn’t even look down.

  Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  He flickered forward again, reappearing beside a hovering warship. His blade carved through its engine core in a single smooth arc. The ship exploded outward in a blossom of fire and twisted metal.

  He dropped from the wreckage as it fell.

  Landing lightly.

  White blindfold angled toward the next cluster of soldiers rushing in.

  And then he sprinted forward—

  ————

  “Okay, so Ozzy’s doing his damn job,” Crisper said over the comms, banking her jet hard to avoid falling debris.

  Her fighter had a stylized dragon painted across its hull, the design glowing faintly as Ryun thrusters flared beneath the wings. Explosions rippled below, lighting the smoke-filled sky in pulses of orange and red.

  “Destiny, you in position?”

  A burst of static crackled before Destiny’s voice came through.

  “Yeah. North’s charging up again. We’re going straight for the Herald.” She paused, scanning the battlefield from her vantage point. “Honestly, it’s wild how the army was already in disarray before we even got here.”

  Her tone sharpened. “You see where Cawren and that girl went?”

  “Nope,” Crisper replied, adjusting her altitude as a missile streaked past. “But Jamal and S?urtinaui are keeping the Calmbrand busy. And I don’t see his little girlfriend anywhere.”

  Another explosion bloomed in the distance.

  “Tabia, everything good on the ground?”

  Tabia’s voice came in steady and controlled despite the chaos. “We’re clearing most of the frontline forces. Still some ships overhead and a cluster of warriors regrouping near the wreckage. If we hit hard and fast, we can break them.”

  Crisper grinned inside the cockpit.

  “Roger that. I’ll save the second army killstreak for when we push.”

  She glanced down at the battlefield, tracking the shifting formations below. The Herald had already shattered their cohesion. Panic had spread. Units were disorganized. Command structures were collapsing.

  They’d arrived at the perfect moment.

  The enemy had been softened up.

  “Can’t let this go to waste,” she muttered.

  Her dragon-emblazoned jet rolled into formation with the remaining squadron as the next wave of targets lit up on her HUD.

  ————

  The jets descended into coordinated strafing runs.

  Ryun cannons flared in controlled bursts, carving through clustered warriors and disabling the last intact ships attempting to regroup. Explosions rolled across the broken skyline, fragments of metal and light scattering through smoke-choked air.

  On the ground, Ozzy moved like a living execution line.

  White blindfold gleaming, blade flashing in short, efficient arcs. Every step forward meant another body falling. Warriors rushed him in desperation, only to be cut down before their weapons fully rose.

  Behind him, Tabia advanced with calculated precision.

  Her teal-and-white hair flared in the wind as she manipulated the coral spikes jutting from the ground. With subtle gestures, she redirected their growth—impaling advancing enemies, cutting off flanking routes, relieving pressure on flying allies. Each motion of her hand reshaped the battlefield by inches.

  This was going better than expected.

  But only barely.

  Everything depended on what came next.

  Civen.

  Cawren.

  Jack.

  The Land’s Herald.

  Calmbrand.

  The Blade of the Dawn.

  Once the army thinned out—once the numbers advantage disappeared—those names would be the only ones that mattered.

  The true fight hadn’t even started yet.

  Over the comms, the team kept their chatter minimal. Energy management was everything now. No overextending. No flashy wastes of power.

  Conserve.

  Stabilize.

  Survive until the board cleared.

  Above them, red lightning pulsed again from North’s position.

  Below, Ozzy’s white streak carved a widening path.

  When the dust settled, only the real players would remain.

  And that was when the war would truly begin.

  ————

  Civen stepped out from beneath a protective ward as the last fragments of shattered barrier light dissolved behind her.

  Smoke drifted across the ruined avenue, embers spiraling lazily in the aftermath of North’s strike. Her long red hair flowed around her shoulders like a flame, feline ears twitching as she assessed the shifting battlefield.

  Unexpected.

  Very.

  But not catastrophic.

  At her side lumbered AAA-Ka-Nier.

  The Qualirn towered beside her—its skeletal frame jagged and elongated, bones bleached pale and wrapped in mismatched, trailing robes that scraped along the fractured stone. Each movement made its teeth clatter faintly together, hollow eye sockets glowing with a sickly green light. One ivory hand hung at its side, fingers twitching.

  And beside them stood Keryna Vel Dross.

  Forest-green Ryun armor etched with war-spirits gleamed beneath the red haze of the sky. Her bright crimson eyes tracked the fighter jets circling overhead.

  Civen didn’t waste time.

  “Keryna,” she said calmly, tail flicking once. “Kill the ones in the jets.”

  Keryna’s jaw tightened, but she nodded immediately.

  “Forget the civilians. Forget the scattered armies. They no longer matter.”

  Her attention shifted upward toward the dragon-marked jet slicing through the smoke.

  “Break their air superiority.”

  “Yes,” Keryna replied, already channeling Ryun along her gauntlets.

  Civen turned her gaze to AAA-Ka-Nier.

  The Qualirn’s hollow sockets brightened faintly in response.

  “It’s time,” Civen murmured.

  Her tail coiled slightly beneath her as she looked toward the red lightning flaring in the distance.

  “Let us go and finally end Vari’s Jujisn.”

  AAA-Ka-Nier’s jaw clicked once.

  Agreement.

  Civen stepped forward into the open battlefield, emerald scales catching the red glow of the burning sky as the next phase of the war began.

  ————

  Ozzy knew Jack was close.

  He could feel it.

  The air shifted differently near real prey. Not the scrambling soldiers, not the desperate Rankers trying to prove something in their final moments.

  He rolled his shoulders as he advanced, blade loose in his grip.

  He would kill him quickly.

  Not as quickly as the ones he was carving through now.

  But close enough.

  Every body that dropped around him was deliberate. An offering.

  Four hundred.

  That was how many he’d come with.

  Four hundred who didn’t get to walk away.

  So this—

  This was love.

  His aura pulsed outward in a smooth, white wave, brushing against signatures through dust and ruin.

  Four warriors stepped into his path.

  The first lunged recklessly.

  Ozzy slid inside the swing, blade flicking upward once. The man dropped before the sound of the cut finished.

  The second and third came together.

  He dipped low, pivoted, and let their momentum carry them past him. His sword traced a shallow crescent across both torsos as he passed between them. They collapsed a step later.

  The fourth didn’t rush.

  He stood tall. Heavy cape. Controlled breathing. Aura dense and disciplined.

  Ozzy paused half a beat.

  “Ah,” he murmured. “You’re decent.”

  The warrior struck first—measured, not wild.

  Ozzy leaned back just enough for the blade to miss his blindfold by inches. He twisted, foot pivoting in broken glass, and spun around the man’s flank.

  Steel flashed.

  But not to cut.

  His sword hooked the warrior’s cape and pinned it to the cracked pavement with surgical precision.

  The man tried to turn—

  Ozzy was already inside his guard.

  One hand shot forward, gripping the man’s wrist.

  Twist.

  A sharp crack echoed as the arm snapped at the elbow.

  The warrior roared in pain.

  Ozzy’s white aura flared brighter.

  He drove his palm forward into the man’s chest.

  A compressed strike detonated point-blank, sending Ryun ripping upward through the spine.

  In the same motion, his blade rose.

  A clean horizontal line.

  The head separated before the body finished collapsing.

  Silence.

  Ozzy exhaled.

  Then—

  There.

  His aura brushed something familiar.

  A smile spread slowly across his face beneath the blindfold.

  “Found you.”

  ————

  High above the devastation, North hovered in silence.

  The pit below yawned like an open wound in the ground, its depths still radiating unstable energy from his earlier strike. Red veins pulsed faintly along his arms as he regulated his breathing.

  Destiny lingered nearby—hidden, exactly as planned.

  He had to wait.

  Switching recklessly between Ryun and Sryun wasn’t just exhausting—it was dangerous. The two forces didn’t like sharing space inside the same vessel. If he pushed too hard, too fast, the backlash could tear at his soul itself.

  He was close to full recovery.

  Close.

  Then he felt it.

  Three pressures erupted across the battlefield like flares.

  To the east—starlight and something darker clashed violently. The blue-haired girl was engaged with the black-and-purple-haired woman. Their auras collided in sharp bursts as they fought further from the main battle.

  Below—

  The Herald’s energy spiked.

  Alive.

  Very alive.

  And then—

  An arrogant aura surged upward toward him.

  Cawren.

  North barely glanced in that direction.

  Destiny moved first.

  She intercepted.

  Cawren blocked her strike and smiled, cape fluttering dramatically behind him.

  “Long time no see,” he said lightly.

  “Don’t let a lucky shot pipe your head up,” Destiny snapped back, wings flaring.

  North only spared them a second look.

  She’d be fine.

  His focus narrowed to the pit.

  Without another word, he shot downward.

  Red lightning trailed behind him as he plunged straight into the abyss, vanishing into darkness.

  A split second later—

  Impact.

  He slammed directly into the Herald’s mass.

  The creature shrieked as he drove through it, fists and knees crashing into writhing black essence. Red-black Ryun flared around him, corrosive and violent, clashing against the Herald’s death-infused aura.

  He didn’t give it space.

  Didn’t give it breath.

  He grabbed hold of its form and forced it downward, burrowing deeper.

  The ground cracked.

  Then shattered.

  North tore through layers of stone as he dragged the Herald with him, carving tunnels through bedrock with sheer force. The creature retaliated with spikes of dark Sryun, shredding through caverns as they formed, but North stayed on it—striking, slamming, ripping.

  The ground above buckled.

  Shockwaves rippled outward as massive fissures tore through the battlefield.

  They were tunneling.

  Thrashing.

  And North had no intention of letting the Herald resurface intact.

  ————

  Cawren and Destiny became streaks of light and heat.

  They blurred across the fractured skyline, colliding again and again in bursts of gold and crimson. Sparks scattered through the smoke, shockwaves rippling outward with each impact.

  But something was missing.

  They both felt it.

  Even with everything at stake—

  Neither of them was serious.

  Not yet.

  They broke apart midair, drifting back several meters. Neither breathing hard. Neither visibly strained.

  They locked eyes.

  Then—

  The ground exploded upward.

  North shot out of the earth in a violent eruption of stone and debris. The Land’s Herald clung to him, black Sryun coiling around its form as it drove a fist into his chest.

  The impact thundered.

  Shockwaves echoed across the battlefield.

  North snarled and headbutted the creature, red veins flaring along his hands. His sigil eyes rotated rapidly as he forced space itself to bend.

  For a few seconds—

  The distance between them stretched into infinity.

  The Herald’s follow-up strike never reached him.

  Lightning detonated from North’s palm, crashing point-blank into the Herald’s face. The blast hurled the monstrous entity across the ruined cityscape, carving a trench through shattered towers.

  Destiny didn’t look away from Cawren.

  “Don’t even think about it.”

  Cawren smirked faintly.

  “I have a bit more honor than that.”

  She scoffed.

  “Let’s make it interesting,” he continued.

  She tilted her head slightly, golden aura simmering.

  “I won’t directly fight you. I’ll help you take out that Herald.” His eyes gleamed. “But I won’t be holding back. If you die because of one of my attacks—so be it.”

  Destiny formed a dense sphere of golden Ryun in her palm.

  “Why should I trust you?”

  “You don’t,” he said plainly. “But you don’t have a choice.”

  Another shockwave tore through the battlefield as North and the Herald collided again in the distance. Jets screamed overhead. Coral spines split open new streets.

  Chaos everywhere.

  “We can fight for real,” Cawren said calmly, “and let the Herald recover. Or you take my offer.”

  “Why?” she demanded.

  He smiled slightly.

  “Because it’s interesting.”

  His gaze flicked briefly toward North.

  “Besides… I want the Blood Prince one-on-one.”

  Destiny’s eyes narrowed.

  “There are no rules in this engagement,” Cawren added. “Anything goes.”

  Another tremor rolled through the city.

  “So,” he continued, “you can make this harder on yourselves. Or you can let me help kill it—and then we can finish our business properly.”

  “You’re insane.”

  “Maybe.”

  She hesitated.

  Watched.

  North and the Herald tore through another district, lightning and Sryun ripping holes through structures already half-destroyed.

  Ozzy was still moving.

  Tabia was stabilizing ground forces.

  Crisper’s jets continued strafing runs.

  And Civen—

  Civen was still out there.

  Destiny exhaled slowly.

  North had wanted this fight.

  If Cawren was going to throw wild attacks anyway—

  Then fine.

  They would weaponize it.

  They would end the Herald first.

  Then settle everything else.

  She dismissed the Ryun sphere in her palm.

  “Fine,” she said flatly.

  Cawren’s smile sharpened.

  “But understand something,” she added, golden aura flaring brighter. “The second that thing drops—if you even twitch wrong—I won’t hesitate.”

  “I’d expect nothing less.”

  They both turned.

  In the distance, North drove the Herald through another destroyed building.

  And Destiny could only hope she was making the right decision.

  Because once she stepped forward, there would be no clean reversal.

  She inhaled slowly, letting the jitters sharpen instead of overwhelming her. Golden Ryun flared around her shoulders as she rose higher into the sky. She didn’t look at him, but she felt his presence shift.

  Ahead, the Herald erupted from rubble again, black essence reknitting its form. North crashed into it again, red lightning spidering across its body.

  The ground split.

  Shockwaves rippled.

  Destiny tightened her fist.

  If this worked, they would eliminate the Herald and level the field.

  If it didn’t—

  They would be the ones eliminated.

  She shot forward in a streak of gold.

  Cawren followed in crimson.

  And below them, North’s laughter echoed through smoke and ruin as the convergence spiraled further out of control.