The battle raged on, and slowly—almost instinctively—the scattered members of the Black March began to converge. One by one, they drew nearer, weathered and bloodied, until they finally regrouped in a broken stretch of stone where Omfry and Anuel held their ground. Beasts continued to swarm in, surrounding them like shadows cast by a dying sun.
For every monster they felled, another took its place—stronger, faster, more savage than the last.
The one-eyed man stepped forward, setting Gustein gently beside Anuel.
"Heal her," he ordered curtly.
Reluctantly, Gustein complied. He touched her wounds sealing them with reluctant care. Her breathing steadied. The pain began to subside.
A brown blur cut through the chaos.
Beily.
He skidded to a halt near Omfry, his chest heaving, blood staining his his clothes. His gaze swept the field—then fell on the two Lycans he had fought just moments before.
They were dead.
Utterly motionless.
Two clean holes marked their chests.
Beily's brows furrowed.
Their hearts were ripped out.
He looked up—and saw him.
Omfry sat calmly atop a jagged rock, the wind brushing back his orange hair. Beside him, Valerius and Eryndor sat cross-legged, bruised but alive. Protected by their Arch armours.
Beily exhaled slowly.
This… was definitely Omfry's doing.
---
Miles away, cloaked in the ruins' shadowed outskirts, a pair of dirt-smeared figures crouched behind a fractured boulder.
Spellbounds.
Lizzy Dorfilia, her face streaked with dust, wiped her brow and whispered, "I've found the Princess."
Anisa Belcruver, the 3rd Spellbound, nodded with a grim expression. Her eyes narrowed. "Alright. Let's go."
She moved to rise—but Lizzy reached out, clutching her skirt.
"Wait."
Anisa spun around, visibly annoyed. "What? The princess is just a few miles away. We can't waste time."
Lizzy's eyes flicked upward. "Just… wait a little."
Before Anisa could argue, a heavy thud dropped beside them.
They both turned.
Towering above them was a storm-faced giant—Fenry.
The spirit warrior, summoned by Lizzy, landed with folded knees and a thunderous weight. His frame shimmered with dark blue cloud-like skin, muscles rippling with ethereal power. He stood fifteen feet tall, yet moved with silence.
He leaned down to Lizzy's ear.
"The princess is alive," he said, his voice like distant thunder. "Oddly enough… she's fighting alongside them. I don't know why. Perhaps they forced her. But your queen... she isn't here."
Lizzy frowned. "Perhaps they threatened her. Maybe she's doing it to protect the queen. In any case… we're saving her."
She stepped forward, but Fenry moved to block her path.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you."
Anisa bristled. "What?"
Fenry stepped forward. "You might take down most of them. You're powerful enough. But if you fight that Dragoon… you will die."
Anisa's eyes flared. "Are you mocking us, spirit? Do you know who we are?"
"My name," Fenry said slowly, "is not 'spirit'."
He slouched closer, face-to-face with her now.
"Because you're a Spellbound, you think you're invincible? You think that little coat of magic you wear makes you better than everyone else?"
Anisa clenched her jaw.
"You've no idea what power is," Fenry said coldly. "You're just a little girl—with a little more magic than most."
Furious, Anisa threw a punch at his chest.
It passed straight through him.
She froze.
Fenry didn't flinch. "You can't touch me. You never could."
Anisa's glare was volcanic.
"Enough!" Lizzy shouted. "Both of you!"
She turned to Fenry. "Which Dragoon are you talking about?"
Fenry grumbled. "I don't like this woman."
He glanced at Lizzy, then back to Anisa. "Do you know how Lizzy became the 5th Spellbound? It's because of me. Evene if you could touch me, you could never beat me."
Anisa rolled her eyes. "Typical spirit arrogance."
Lizzy growled. "That's enough. Now tell us about this Dragoon."
Fenry exhaled. "He's a Bravo wielder."
Silence.
Both Lizzy and Anisa froze.
"What?" they said together.
"You know about Bravo?" Lizzy asked.
"Of course I do," Fenry replied. "Why wouldn't I?"
Anisa stepped forward. "How does he have Bravo? And how do you know of it?"
Fenry shrugged. "He must've learnt it somewhere. And we spirits… we know more than you think."
Lizzy frowned. "Why didn't you ever tell me about Bravo?"
"You never asked."
Lizzy stared at the ground, thinking hard.
Fenry noticed her silence and stiffened.
"Don't tell me you're actually going."
Lizzy looked up, eyes set.
"It doesn't matter how strong he is. We are Spellbounds. Our duty is to protect the royal family—even if it kills us."
She turned away.
Fenry stepped after her. "What part of you will die didn't you understand?"
Lizzy and Anisa raised their hands and cast Floatation. Their bodies began to rise.
Fenry called out, "This isn't like any foe you've faced before. You can't handle this one. I won't help you walk into your death."
Lizzy glanced back. "I'm doing this with or without you. Are you coming?"
Fenry said nothing.
Anisa scoffed. "Then stay here, coward."
The two Spellbounds soared into the air.
Fenry stood frozen for a moment—then cursed under his breath.
"…You know I can't let you die."
He sprinted forward. "Wait! Get me up there!"
Lizzy reached down, muttered the spell—and cast Floatation on him.
He rose like a missile and caught up beside them.
"If we're doing this," he said grimly, "then listen. I know a way to bring down a man like that. It's a spell they're absolutely defenseless against. It's the only way you can take him down. Frankly speaking, I don't think you have enough mana to kill him with it."
Anisa narrowed her eyes. "What spell?"
"As if I'd tell you."
He kept flying.
"Mages like you need Search to detect your targets," he said. "But Bravo wielders—they feel everything. They don't need to scan. They sense people like a sixth sense. I'd bet he already knows we're coming. But there's too much chaos—too many signals for him to lock onto us."
Anisa nodded. "So what's the plan?"
"You need a clear line of sight," Fenry said. "The spell won't work otherwise. We'll drop down into the chaos. Use the Unbounds as cover."
Lizzy glanced at him. "But how am I supposed to learn a new spell this fast?"
Fenry turned, his face solemn now.
"This isn't ordinary magic. This is Oblivion Tongue."
Anisa blinked. "Oblivion… what?"
Fenry nodded. "It's not like your textbooks. You don't need to learn it. You only need to repeat after me."
At that very moment, Beily took a weary step toward Omfry, still cradling his bleeding shoulder, his breath ragged and uneven.
"Omfry…" he called.
But before he could take another stride, a stone—fist-sized and sudden—whistled through the air.
Beily's instincts screamed. He sidestepped with a grunt, just barely avoiding it.
Then came the true danger.
A soundless shriek.
A flash of air so sharp it felt like silence torn apart.
A vertical slash ripped through the space directly in front of him.
It was clean.
Perfect.
Catastrophic.
The land split down the centre like paper to a blade. The ground, the beasts, the fleeing men—stone, steel, flesh—everything it touched was severed. The slash extended onwards, slicing across the battlefield in a perfect, unwavering line.
And it did not stop.
It cut across miles.
Through stone ridges.
Through towers.
Through flame and mist.
A trail of absolute ruin.
Beily stood frozen, a single step away from annihilation. His eyes traced the crater line—still glowing at the edges from the heat of the strike.
He dropped to his knees.
Sweat rolled down his brow. His limbs refused to move.
His voice trembled in thought.
What… was that?
That's the second time today I've nearly died…
Was that why he threw the rock at me?
He looked left.
Then right.
The scar carved into the world was endless. It looked as though the earth itself had been peeled apart by an invisible god. He could no longer see where the slash had even originated.
And neither could his team.
The others stood in shocked silence, staring at the impossibility that had just unfolded. No one had seen a sword. No one had seen a wielder. Only Omfry—who now stood with Jeriana at his side.
"You alright?" she asked, her tone low with concern.
Omfry didn't take his eyes off the horizon.
"That," he said calmly, "was just Dreados… venting his anger."
Jeriana blinked. "Venting? That was—"
Omfry's eyes narrowed. "Not at us. It was for that lycan."
---
High above, in the windswept sky, Lizzy, Anisa, and Fenry felt it before they saw it.
A violent tremor in the air. Then—sudden silence.
And then the land below them split in two.
A deep, jagged wound stretched across the world like a scar left by a falling god.
Anisa whirled in the air. "What was that!?"
Lizzy gasped, eyes wide.
Fenry raised a hand, signalling them to stop. "Wait."
They hovered in place, floating in the wind.
Fenry stared down at the line—perfect, sharp, final.
His ethereal face darkened.
"That was no explosion."
His voice dropped to a whisper.
"That was a slash."
---
Far from the ruin's heart, Orian, Omar, and Omria reached the edge of a fractured ridge. Below them, chaos stretched in every direction—towers falling, debris flying, spells detonating across the battlefield like stars born and dying. In the centre of it all, suspended mid-air, was Ola. Her recorder blinked softly in her hand. A dome of translucent magic pulsed around her—the last of Omar's mana shielding her from the war.
She moved with urgency, recording everything. Dodging shockwaves. Swerving past errant firebolts.
And then—
A shadow pounced from the broken stone.
A Reliard, face laced with scars, his mouth twisted in a grotesque grin, launched upward and snatched Ola mid-flight. She let out a scream as they tumbled to the ground, the dome shattering like fragile glass.
"Ola!" Omar shouted, sprinting toward her.
Omria and Orian followed—one with magic in her hands, the other weaponless and afraid.
Another Reliard emerged from the rubble—hulking, half-burnt, one eye swollen shut, a rusted axe in his grip.
"Two sweet little things," he sneered, eyeing Omria and Ola. "We'll make coin off their screams. Or maybe we just keep them for ourselves."
From the shadows came three more—five in total now. Misshapen bodies. Mangled jaws. Rotten teeth grinning. One licked blood from a blade.
"Nothing prettier than breaking a fighter girl," one rasped, staring at Omria. "Tear the fire out of her. Bit by bit."
Omria raised a trembling hand.
"Ignestra!"
Flames erupted toward the man clutching Ola. He stumbled back with a snarl, dropping her. She cast a small shield to cover herself, skidding backward across stone.
Omar's hands ignited. "Varellis Strade!"
Twin bolts of searing blue light cracked the ground, forcing two Reliards to leap away.
One clicked his tongue. "Slippery." Then his grin twisted. "But they all beg eventually."
Orian dodged blindly as a chain whipped past his face. He stumbled backward—unarmed, terrified.
A dagger glinted.
A Reliard stalked toward him, dragging the blade slowly along the stone.
Omria stepped forward, hand raised—
But one of the brutes tackled her from behind, wrapping her in chains.
"No!" Omar shouted, racing to help. But another monster caught him by the leg and hurled him backwards.
"Stay out of this," he growled.
Ola screamed as she tried to conjure wind magic—but a Reliard grabbed her wrist mid-cast and slammed her into the dirt.
"You'll be crying pretty soon," he chuckled. "Then we sell you."
Omria kicked and screamed as she was dragged, blood on her cheek. "You animals! Let me GO!"
The scarred man chuckled. "Oh, we'll let you go. After you're broken."
Orian staggered to his feet.
But a fist caught him across the face, sending him flying.
He landed hard.
Vision blurred.
The Reliard stood over him with a sword.
"We don't want you."
He raised the blade.
Omar's gaze darted from Omria… to Ola… to Orian.
He couldn't reach them all.
"No… no no no—!"
Then—
A beast burst from the side and slashed across Omar's back.
His left arm was torn off.
He collapsed in shock, gasping. Blood gushed from his side.
A Reliard grabbed his face and slammed it to the ground, mounting his chest, pinning him.
"You're done," he growled. "Once we choose someone—there's no escaping."
Another lifted a sword above Orian.
Omar, barely conscious, saw it—through blood, through smoke.
His fingers fumbled through dust—
They found a sword.
He whispered, "Ignite."
The blade erupted into flame.
With a final roar, he stabbed upward, piercing through the brute's ribs.
The man shrieked and stumbled back, clutching the blade in his gut.
Omar pushed himself up—blood spilling from his stump.
He focused everything into one last spell.
"Virell Tempest!"
A tornado of compressed air blasted beneath his feet, launching him across the field like a missile.
He slammed into the man above Orian, his blade cleaving the executioner's sword aside.
Omar drove the flaming sword into the man's chest.
But—
The brute punched straight through Omar's stomach.
Omar coughed blood, mouth open in agony.
The Reliard's grin widened. "You think you've won? I'll use those girls until they forget their names. And you? You'll rot with your guts on the floor."
Then—
A scream.
Orian had grabbed a blade from the ground.
And he slashed the back of the man's knee.
The man fell to one leg, snarling.
Orian didn't stop.
He stabbed the other shoulder—crippling the arm still buried in Omar.
Omar, barely alive, grabbed that arm with all the strength he had left.
Orian raised the blade.
He looked into the Reliard's eyes.
There was no fear.
Only wrath.
Omar whispered, "Kill this bastard."
The blade came down.
Once.
Twice.
Again.
And again.
Orian screamed as he struck the face—over and over, until bone cracked, blood sprayed, and the skull broke apart.
"Die! DIE! DIE, YOU MONSTER!"
When he finally stopped, he was trembling, soaked in blood.
Omar placed a weak hand on his shoulder.
"You didn't have to do that, idiot…"
Orian turned, crying.
"You didn't have to die."
Omar smiled faintly, face smeared with blood.
"I never knew you had it in you... Guess you're not the coward I thought."
His hand fell limp.
Omar went still.
---
In the distance, the remaining Reliards dragged Omria and Ola, bruised and screaming.
"Damn it!" one shouted. "They killed Barlo! We're out of here!"
Omria looked back.
She saw Omar in Orian's arms.
Dead.
Tears flooded her eyes.
Then… she snapped.
Her chest rose and fell.
Each breath came with steam.
She roared.
"RAAAAAAGH!"
Fire exploded from her mouth in a tidal wave.
The Reliard holding her was engulfed—his screams cut short as his flesh turned black, then bone, then ash.
She hit the ground, skin seared and steaming.
She stumbled to her feet, turned her head—
And burned the one dragging Ola.
He dropped, wailing, and crumbled into a corpse.
Ola gasped, rolling aside. She grabbed a scroll from his belt.
"Run!"
The two girls sprinted, panting and crying, back toward the crater—
Where Orian held Omar's body, sobbing.
But just as they reached the edge—
The earth cracked open.
A violent gust of wind surged across the land.
The terrain shattered.
Crags split the stone.
A crater yawned open, and a gale of energy tore them apart.
"Omar!!" Omria screamed.
"Orian!!" Ola shouted.
They were blown away—screaming, tumbling.
Orian reached out, arm stretched.
"NOOOOO!!"
Too late.
The ground cracked beneath them, a tempest roaring through the broken land. The force of the wind was unimaginable—like the very ruin was screaming.
Orian held on to Omar's body with everything he had, arms wrapped tight around his best friends blood-soaked frame.
But the wind—
The wind was too strong.
They spun midair, crashing into fragments of stone, dust filling Orian's lungs. He gritted his teeth and tightened his grip, fingers digging into Omar's back.
But his strength was fading. The wind howled louder. Sharper.
Omar's lifeless body was ripped from his arms.
"No—no no no no—!"
Orian reached out, arm stretched to the limit, fingertips just brushing his friends tunic.
"Omar!!"
But gravity claimed him.
Omar's body fell.
Tumbling.
Spinning.
Disappearing into the abyss below.
Orian screamed, raw and broken.
"NOOOOO!!"
He lunged after him—but the ground gave way beneath his feet.
Cracks spread like lightning. The cliff beneath him collapsed entirely.
And Orian fell.
Spinning through the air, screaming, plummeting into a second crater torn open by the storm. Jagged stone raced past him. His body slammed against a broken ledge, bounced, and continued down—before finally crashing into the dirt below.
He gasped. Coughing. Broken. Alone.
Dust settled slowly around him.
Above—Omar was gone.
Below—only darkness. And silence.
The ruin had swallowed them both.
But only one still breathed.
Far below, at the base of the crater, Orian stirred, bruised and barely conscious. Dust swirled around him. The fall had nearly crushed him.
He blinked, forcing his eyes open.
And then—he saw it.
Something glowing.
Faint, steady. Resting upon a broken altar ahead. Its light shimmered through the shadows, silent… waiting.
Orian's breath caught.
He couldn't explain it.
But it was calling him.
To Be Continued...