Eran's eyes closed inside the hollow pillar.
Then—thwip… thwip… thwip—arrows pierced through the holes.
A beat of silence… then blood—spraying violently from every opening in the pillar.
The soldiers froze in horror. The sight before them didn't feel real.
Someone whispered, voice shaking, "That… can't be real…"
Panic spread. One by one, the soldiers turned and bolted toward the village.
But wind rushed past them—unnatural, sharp.
Then he appeared.
A tall man—at least six feet—with long black hair swaying in the wind, jet-black eyes gleaming like obsidian. His half-sleeve robe fluttered lightly around his frame, yet he stood still as death itself.
He appeared out of nowhere, directly in their path.
"Where are you all going?" he asked calmly, his voice smooth but chilling.
"You're from the Land of Wisdom, right? I heard you like to beat children..."
He tilted his head slightly.
"So, I killed him."
One soldier stopped dead, his voice trembling and splitting in fear.
"W-what?! Who... who are you?"
The man smirked, stepping forward slowly.
As he clenched his fists, black metallic rods—thin but deadly—grew out of his knuckles like claws.
The soldiers instinctively stepped back.
"You all look grown enough," the man said, eyes gleaming with dark humor.
"Not children. So why... are you shaking?"
Black Mountain Side
Panic ruled the battlefield. Chaos raged beneath the burning sky.
Ronan was barely holding on. Her once-brilliant crystal shield was now riddled with cracks—thin veins that spread like spiderwebs across its surface.
One more hit. Just one more rock—and it would all be over.
She looked up, trembling, and whispered,
"…I've lost control."
Sora was still moving—flashes of silver light weaving through fire and death—but her speed had slowed. Her breath came in gasps. Her legs trembled.
"So this… is what death looks like," she murmured, eyes dull but still focused forward.
Isara turned to Torvin, her voice hollow.
"Are we… going to die like this?"
Torvin didn't answer. He was focused on the burning sky, his hands shaking as he tried to maintain their shield.
Isara continued softly,
"Haruki was right. I finally understand… why he couldn't protect his child. Not from monsters like these."
Above them, Aanya floated—her shield failing, her strength slipping away.
A massive, flaming stone passed through her semi-transparent body. Her powers had phased her, but even now, she was trembling, soaked in sweat.
The fire licked at her wings, and her shield cracked and blinked out.
Her lips moved in a whisper, barely audible.
"…It's over."
Then—
A golden swirl cut through the air.
It passed straight through a massive flaming rock, splitting it into a hundred glowing fragments that scattered like dying stars.
Aanya had already closed her eyes, ready to accept death…
But a voice thundered from below—
"Move away!"
Haruki's voice.
He sprinted forward, leaping between burning boulders, his golden-bladed sword flashing in arcs of light.
One after another, the falling rocks were sliced apart—
Clean. Precise. Instant.
In mere moments, he had torn through dozens of them.
Up above, the orange- and green-eyed beings standing atop the Black Mountain widened their eyes. They stared down, stunned—unable to understand what was happening on the ground.
Everything had changed.
All around, the battlefield fell silent.
The crystal clones were shattered.
The demons lay dead.
Only scattered rocks remained.
On the ground, the angels—Sora, Torvin, Isara, Ronan—collapsed onto the stone, gasping in disbelief and relief.
Aanya still hovered in the sky, her eyes flickering with fading light.
Then—silence.
Haruki stood alone in the center of the broken battlefield, his sword glowing faintly in his hand.
He turned and looked up—eyes locking onto the two figures watching from the peak of the Black Mountain.
The wind swirled.
The battle had changed.
The green and orange-eyed figures stood still—shocked.
Though their entire bodies were cloaked in black, their eyes betrayed them.
A flicker of nervousness. A glint of hesitation.
A gust of wind swept across the battlefield, carrying with it the silence Haruki had carved into the earth.
The heat faded just enough to freeze the moment.
Haruki stood below, unmoving.
His gaze pierced upward—sword gripped tight, his stance unshaken.
He looked like a man who had already decided: if another fight came, he'd end it before it started.
Then—
"Haruki!"
The orange-eyed figure called out, voice echoing with both excitement and mockery.
"My real rival... I've missed you far too much."
He laughed. "Even Grey is searching for you in every direction. And you—
you've been hiding here all along."
In a flash, Haruki moved.
He vanished from the ground—
and reappeared just meters in front of them, face to face.
His voice came cold, flat.
"What do you all want this time?"
The green-eyed figure remained silent, only watching Haruki with an unreadable expression.
The orange-eyed one smirked.
"You're still so serious... that never changes."
Then he tilted his head, a strange curiosity in his tone.
"Forget the rest—
Is Yuki fine?"
He laughed again, dark and amused.
"I've also been missing our old battles, Haruki."