Chapter 71
It ends (2)
Before the explosion.
Raj stood behind the counter, the room casting a faint glow across his face as he held the warped blade in place with one hand. With the other, he calmly reached for a hooked knife from the side of the worktable.
Without hesitation, he cut a shallow line across his palm.
His blood welled to the surface—thick, dark, and pulsing with mana.
One drop. Two. Three.
They fell onto the broken sword, hissing faintly as they made contact. The metal shimmered, then began to melt—not in ruin, but in rebirth.
Under Raj's focused will, the steel reformed, reshaping with smooth, organic precision. Edges aligned. Cracks vanished. Engravings restored themselves as if etched by unseen hands.
He exhaled softly, eyes steady.
The sword whole again.
He wiped the blade clean and set it gently beside him. The smell of blood mingled with hot iron and burnt oil. To most, it would be uncomfortable. To raj, it was something he was more familiar with than fresh air.
It was just another day—a long, quiet one. The kind where his hands moved faster than his thoughts.
He sighed.
"Gonna be a long, boring day," he muttered to no one in particular.
Still, somewhere in the back of his mind, a different thought stirred. A small smile tugged at his lips. He was expecting visitors. He'd been getting them more often lately, and though he'd never say it out loud, those brief interruptions had become his second favorite part of the day.
He turned, reaching for the next broken weapon in his queue—when suddenly, a sound rippled through the air.
A voice.
It echoed across the Hold, crackling, layered, and distorted through hidden speakers embedded in walls and ceilings.
"It ends… now."
Raj froze.
His eyes narrowed.
Those speakers weren't easy to access. Aside from the Health Ward and private tents, the Hold's PA system was locked behind tight administrative control. That meant whoever spoke had bypassed serious security—or had been let in.
His fingers hovered over the bench. His entire body tensed, his awareness sharpening.
Something was wrong.
His workshop door slid open.
His posture shifted in an instant. Subtle, practiced.
His hand moved toward the hilt of a hidden blade beneath the counter.
A shadow stepped through the threshold—
Raj blinked.
"Regina?" he said, lowering his hand. "Hey."
She entered quickly, tense. "Do you know what that voice was? That announcement—"
She didn't finish the sentence.
Because the world exploded.
A deafening roar tore through the Hold.
The walls shuddered. The ground buckled.
Time seemed to freeze for a second—just long enough for Raj to see Regina's eyes widen in instinctive horror—then everything shattered.
The hub was decimated.
Explosions ripped through it like knives tearing through cloth. Flame burst from conduits. Metal screamed. Concrete split. Entire structures were uprooted and hurled through the air like paper.
People—hundreds of them—were flung like dolls.
Limbs torn.
Spines snapped.
Bodies crushed under falling debris.
In the span of a breath, more than half the population of the Hold died.
Those who didn't were buried, burning, or screaming.
An entire world of certainty and safety—gone. Smoke devoured everything. The sound of cracking bone, crumpling steel, and collapsing walls blended into one overwhelming cacophony of destruction.
And then—
silence.
For a time.
Until a hand burst from the wreckage.
It clawed upward through rubble and smoke, scraping against broken rebar and melted steel.
Raj.
Alive.
Barely.
He pulled himself out with a grunt of pain, his arm bleeding from a gash that ran from wrist to elbow. His clothes were torn, his body coated in dust and ash. He ignored it all.
Because in his other arm—
Regina.
Her body was limp.
But she was breathing.
He laid her down carefully, brushing a soot-covered strand of hair from her face with bloodied fingers.
"Regina," he whispered. "Wake up."
Her eyes fluttered open.
She blinked. Slow. Disoriented. The world a blur of red and grey.
"What… happened?" she mumbled, clutching her head.
"I don't know," Raj said quietly. "Something... terrible."
They both rose slowly. Every muscle ached. Regina staggered, catching herself on a jagged piece of metal.
She turned—then stopped.
The scene before them wasn't just ruin.
It was devastation.
Entire sections of the Hold—gone.
Steel beams jutted out of shattered walls like broken ribs. Mangled bodies lay crumpled in corners. Blood pooled beneath slabs of concrete, soaking into the ground. Burnt banners fluttered limply from broken rafters.
The air was thick with dust, smoke, and the sickening smell of charred flesh and ozone.
Regina's breath caught.
She couldn't look away.
This was the Hold.
One of the largest bastions of hope.
A name spoken with reverence—steady, unshaken, a promise of safety.
The Hold was strength. The Hold was certainty.
A place that did not bend. A place that could not break.
At least, that's what Regina had believed.
The Hold would never fall.
Until the day it did.
And when it did… it shattered everything she thought was true.
The place built on hope. The place meant to endure. To survive everything.
How could it fall?
How?
As that thought circled, she tried to draw mana from her core—
Then froze.
Her head snapped toward Raj.
He nodded before she even spoke.
"I know," he said grimly. "Something's disrupting our Path methods. They still work—but only at about eighty percent capacity. It's coming from path formations. Layered ones."
She stared at him.
"But… how? How did they set this up—right under us?"
Raj's face was unreadable.
"This was planned. Coordinated. Maybe for months. Maybe years."
He didn't say the last part out loud.
This was an inside job.
Before she could respond, a voice rang out.
"I found them!"
They turned.
Hope flared—then extinguished.
Five figures approached through the haze. Cloaked in black, their faces hidden beneath deep hoods. Their steps were silent despite the debris.
Regina and Raj stepped back, bodies tensing.
The cloaked figures didn't speak.
They didn't need to.
They drew their weapons. Blades gleamed, stained already with fresh blood.
There would be no negotiation.
No mercy.
Raj's eyes darted toward a pile of rubble.
He lifted a hand.
From beneath the stone, his saber flew into his grip.
Another gesture—and a pair of obsidian gauntlets sailed through the air, slamming into Regina's waiting arms with practiced ease.
The gauntlets clicked into place, mana faintly glowing at the seams. Weapons he'd crafted himself. Not beautiful—but deadly.
Explosions rumbled in the distance.
Screams echoed from the far halls.
But here—
Silence.
A final breath before the storm.
Regina and Raj glanced at each other.
No words.
Just the nod of shared resolve.
Then, together, they shouted—
"Till death!"
And ran into the fight.