From the smoke-filled pit, I saw Vega rise—his head now crowned with dragon-like horns, and massive wings unfurling from his back. Heat radiated from the wings like a furnace, shimmering the air around him.
An overwhelming pressure erupted from his body, spreading across the battlefield like a tidal wave of killing intent.
This was no ordinary transformation.
It was the unique ability granted by Phantom Severance—a full-body evolution Vega called Dragonization.
By activating the sword's deepest potential, Vega allowed the cursed armor to morph toward the form of the Tyrandragon, a fearsome creature of legend.
Originally, Vega hadn't planned to use this ability.
After all, the Dragonized state placed immense strain on his body. Not only did it exhaust his aura reserves rapidly, but using it for too long risked awakening the malevolent will sealed within the blade—causing the weapon to temporarily possess him. Worse, it would leave him drained and vulnerable afterward.
But in that instant, faced with Silva's all-out blast and Zeno's suicidal tactics, Vega felt a real sense of mortal danger.
He knew the base form of Phantom Severance wouldn't survive a direct hit from both assassins at full power.
If he tried to tank it head-on, the armor would likely shatter—and he'd be done for.
So, without hesitation, he invoked the Tyrandragon form.
In an instant, the cursed armor came alive. It pulsed with life, like a heart beating in sync with Vega's own. A dragon's roar echoed in his mind as his Nen surged uncontrollably.
A massive pair of wings sprouted from his back. His helmet reshaped itself, growing jagged dragon horns. The aura surrounding him deepened into something almost abyssal—like a beast that had just emerged from centuries of slumber.
Half-man, half-dragon.
A perfect blend of human intelligence and monstrous power.
With Red Shrike in hand, Vega climbed out of the pit and looked skyward—watching Silva and Zeno flee on the back of their wyvern.
His eyes flashed with killing intent.
He could pursue them.
They were wounded, vulnerable.
But…
He let out a slow breath and lowered his blade.
His own condition wasn't much better.
Despite the immense power of the Dragonized form, it had drained him far more than expected. And the possibility of drawing out the Zoldyck patriarch Maha—or even encountering Alluka and the unknown force inside her—stayed his hand.
It wasn't the time.
He let them go.
As the wyvern disappeared into the sky, Vega dismissed the Dragonized armor.
Fwoosh.
A flash of red light, and Phantom Severance returned to its sword form, falling silently into his hand.
The moment the transformation ended, all that power vanished like smoke.
Weakness swept through him.
Vega staggered, using the sword to support himself, his breathing ragged. His body felt light, almost detached—like the strength that once surged through him had simply bled away.
He glanced down at the weapon in his hand.
Phantom Severance was no longer still.
It pulsed—slow, rhythmic beats, as if a heart slumbered within the blade.
And the eye carved into the hilt, usually shut tight, now sat half-lidded.
Watching.
Alive.
Vega narrowed his eyes.
He remembered the scene from Crimson Eyes, the fiction that inspired this weapon's design. In that world, the cursed blade consumed its wielder, dragging them into a permanent Dragonized state—warping them beyond recognition.
Was Phantom Severance truly heading in that direction?
After all, this weapon had originally been a mere construct—a conjuration shaped by Vega's Nen and imagination. He'd simply infused it with the "concept" of a Tyrandragon, then poured experience points into strengthening it through the system.
Could it really be evolving into something real?
Something alive?
A living artifact, forged by Nen and shaped by imagination?
Vega scoffed softly and shook his head.
That other protagonist fell because he lacked strength and will. Vega was different.
He had no intention of letting Phantom Severance dominate him—even in its Dragonized state.
Still, this battle had taught him something important.
Even with Phantom Severance, he couldn't rely on a single strategy.
If he kept facing enemies like the Zoldycks or the Phantom Troupe, he'd need more than brute force. He needed allies strong enough to hold their own—subordinates who wouldn't be liabilities in the middle of a high-level fight.
And above all, he needed more tools. More techniques. More options.
The system could strengthen anything.
So why stop at one sword?
If he could craft new Nen tools—combine them like a set—he could create a personalized arsenal tailored for different scenarios.
But…
That required more experience points.
A lot more.
Vega's eyes turned cold.
The Monroe family was beginning to wear on his patience.
They'd hired the Zoldycks. Reached out to the Phantom Troupe. And they kept throwing assassins at him like he was some final boss in a video game.
If he didn't put a stop to it soon, who knew what kind of monsters they'd drag out next?
Enough.
Once his recovery was done—he'd wipe them out completely.
Murphy could wait in hell a little longer.
It was time to eliminate the Monroe family.
Just as the resolve solidified in his mind—
Crunch—crunch—crunch.
Rapid footsteps broke through the silence. Vega spun around, sword ready.
A familiar figure came rushing toward him, sweat soaking through his butler's uniform.
Kevin.
The young man reached Vega, panting hard.
"Master! Are you alright?" he blurted out, eyes filled with panic. "I'll call the medics immediately!"
Vega waved a hand. "No need. Just overexerted myself. I'm a little winded, that's all."
He frowned, noticing Kevin's disheveled state.
"Didn't I tell you to evacuate the others from the villa? Why are you back here?"
Kevin lowered his head, ashamed.
"I... I was worried about you, Master. Once I got the others to safety, I returned. I kept watch from a distance. I thought maybe... I could help."
He clenched his fists. "But once the battle began... I realized I was useless. I couldn't even follow your movements with Gyo. All I could do was watch."
He looked utterly defeated.
"I'm sorry. I wanted to protect you, but I was just… powerless."
Vega's expression softened.
"Kevin, don't be so hard on yourself. They're from the Zoldyck family—world-class assassins. Shiba and Jano have trained since childhood. You're still growing."
He stepped forward and placed a hand on the boy's shoulder.
"But you've got the Fire Gauntlet and the Soul Shard. Master those—and someday you might surpass them."
Kevin looked up, eyes burning.
"Yes, Master. I swear I'll get stronger. I'll make sure you never have to stand alone again."
Meanwhile, high above on the back of the wyvern—
zeno sat calmly despite his shattered legs, his tone cold.
"You felt it too, didn't you, Silva?"
Silva was silent for a moment, then nodded.
"That moment—when I launched the final blast. Something changed in him. It wasn't just a power-up. It felt... wrong."
A shadow crossed his face.
"I think Vega's harboring something unnatural. Something… from beyond this world."
"You mean like Alluka?" Jano asked, voice flat.
Shiba nodded again.
"Something like that. A being from the Dark Continent."
They exchanged a grim look.
"This mission just got a lot more complicated."