The Autumn wind began to blow again — cold, slow, and heavy, as if the forest had just remembered the name of death.

  Sarya Veyrunn walked between ruins and fire, her armor of amber and copper.

  Burnt leaves swirled around her, caught in the current of mana escaping with every step.

  Above, the sky was a convulsing heart — thunder, clashing manas, magic impacts, and Anatoly’s insane roar echoing through the entire west wing.

  But she wasn’t looking upward.

  Sarya’s duty was on the ground — with the living who remained.

  Leli was coordinating the evacuation further ahead, her face covered in soot, escape runes glowing in her palms.

  — "Through the eastern route! Keep the children in the center! Don’t stop!"

  Her voice cut through the chaos, but the sounds of the battlefield — metal, flesh, thunder — tried to swallow every word.

  Sarya passed by her like a shadow.

  — "Leli, stay focused. I’ll cover the right flank."

  The girl nodded, her hands trembling but her golden eyes firm.

  Sarya placed a hand on her shoulder — firm, brief, almost maternal.

  — "You’re doing well, little one. Don’t look back."

  Then she advanced.

  The corridor of central-east Sorriso was a sea of debris.

  Creatures from the North crawled among the flames — not ogres or barbarians, but things.

  Shapes deformed by Anatoly’s energy. They were bodies dripping blood and smoke, as if being rewritten every second.

  The leaves of Autumn began to float. The air thickened.

  Sarya closed her eyes.

  — "Breathe… and cut."

  The first step made no sound. The second, none at all.

  On the third, the Mark of Autumn glowed on her chest.

  Twin blades appeared in her hands — the Veyrunn Daggers, thin as steel leaves and bathed in amber mana.

  The wind split.

  A monster rose, three meters tall, teeth of stone.

  Sarya passed through it before it even finished roaring.

  The body fell apart in silence, dissolving into sparks of copper.

  Three more came.

  She spun, sliding through debris.

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  None touched her.

  Every strike of hers felt like a natural movement — not a fight, but a dance between cycles.

  Cesar, watching from the distant field through his link with Lukas, murmured in the boy’s mind:

  — "I don’t like mixing my purity with this fox… The things I do for you, young legionary."

  Morgana:

  — "Stop whining, little soldier."

  Cesar:

  — "But that woman isn’t just an elf… there’s something there. She cannot be normal, young legionary."

  Morgana, low and almost amused:

  — "She is Autumn — shield and blade. She’s the pause between breathing and dying."

  But even she could not sustain the growing hell.

  Anatoly’s laughter cut the sky.

  It wasn’t human.

  It was the sound of a heart beating out of rhythm.

  A crimson flash crossed the horizon — Kotan Aspen was thrown dozens of meters away, the impact cracking the earth and opening craters.

  Valquíria fell soon after, her body covered in red energy.

  Freya roared but was swallowed by an explosion.

  Sarya looked upward — and for the first time, she saw the power of an Original Disaster.

  Anatoly moved effortlessly:

  — "Rats, rats, miserable rats… Do you really think you can compete with me?

  Interesting… Lord of Winter… you’re not just talk. Compared to the others, you’re tough.

  That hit HURT — and it hurt like hell.

  Just because you finally noticed that doesn’t mean you’ll kill me, miserable rats."

  Sarya stepped back, her aura shaking.

  — "Impossible…"

  Disaster XI lifted his head, looking straight at her.

  Even hundreds of meters away, Sarya felt the weight of that gaze.

  He didn’t need to shout.

  His mana spoke — kneel.

  The wind snapped.

  Leaves fell.

  Sarya almost lost her balance.

  And for an instant, Autumn felt winter touch her skin.

  But she held firm.

  Her blades returned to her hands.

  — "I am Sarya Veyrunn, Huntress of Autumn.

  And not even a god will make me kneel."

  The leaves answered — rising, swirling around her in a spiral.

  The wind changed direction.

  The corridor shone amber.

  The civilians passed behind her, not looking, unaware of what was happening.

  Sarya didn’t expect to win.

  Only to delay.

  Until reinforcements arrived.

  Until Lukas moved.

  And Anatoly, above, watched — amused.

  — "Human resistance… a beautiful elf. I like that.

  But they cry when they break.

  And that is the most exciting part."

  He extended his hand.

  The air bent.

  The ground around Sarya exploded.

  She dodged purely on hunter’s instinct.

  Anatoly:

  — "Fast… worthy of the title you hold.

  You would make a fine numbered one."

  Aurelius rushed forward:

  — "You think that’s going to happen, monster?

  Autumn Domain, crimson collision!"

  BOOOOM.

  His palm struck Anatoly’s chest, throwing him back.

  The patriarchs and Tailer followed right after, all wrapped in aura and mana — ready to fight to the end.

  Everyone felt the impact.

  Going into that fight was madness.

  But Sarya couldn’t take her eyes off Leli.

  Not yet.

  She had made a promise to Lukas — and that mattered more now.

  — "Hold on a little longer…

  I don’t know why, but he’s moving in the shadows.

  I don’t know how… but I know it."

  — "Lukas… what are you planning?"

  End of Chapter 8