Ash still clung to the mountain air, thick with the scent of charred wood and spent fire. The mountain trail wound upward through the remains of a once-living forest—narrow, steep, and flanked by blackened trunks that jutted like the broken ribs of giants.
Isabella led the march in silence. Tana walked beside her, while Benny brought up the rear, his broad frame bearing quiet watchfulness.
The recruits and Benny's men who survived the battle followed between them, their faces lit only by the waning glow of the moon.
The climb was steep, but none complained, not after what they'd survived. Every exhausted footstep crunched against the ground, softened by the remains of war.
At the summit, the wind shifted, and a new light broke the quiet.
"Hey, you guys! You're alright!" Aeda's voice rang out, shattering the stillness like sunlight breaking through the clouds.
She stood at the summit, waving wildly, her face lit by something that hadn't been there for hours—hope.
The others were there, too—Clarissa, Aida, and Marco, all gathered near the lookout where the first group of survivors had been taken.
The moment they saw the survivors, relief rippled through the group like a breath they hadn't realized they were holding.
"Yeah, just barely," Bryce said, lifting a tired hand.
They closed the distance quickly. At the summit, Aida stepped forward and exhaled deeply, her shoulders finally dropping. "I'm glad to see you all made it back okay."
Curtis gave her a wave. "You too. Everyone good on your end?"
Clarissa appeared beside him, Mimi curled against her chest, her fur still damp from sweat and steam.
"We're fine," she said, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear. "Everyone who came with us made it."
Curtis's expression softened instantly. "Rissa," he said with a smile, patting her shoulder. "I knew I could count on you."
Clarissa sighed. "...I told you not to call me that."
Curtis leaned in slightly. "But it fits you. Don't you think?"
Clarissa raised a brow, but her lips twitched at the corners. "I don't think so."
"Hmm, well, you don't have to." Curtis shrugged. "Some things just feel right."
Curtis's eyes lingered on hers for a second longer than usual.
Clarissa turned slightly, hiding the faint blush that warmed her cheeks. She huffed, brushing a loose strand of hair from her face, pretending to adjust Mimi's position.
"Well… just don't overuse it."
Curtis smiled. "No promises, Rissa."
Aeda stormed over, her anger flaring as she swiftly intervened. "It wasn't just her, you know! We all helped! Isn't that right, Aida?"
"Y-yeah…" Aida said, nodding shyly. We all did."
The twins stood shoulder to shoulder, arms crossed, glaring at Curtis like two synchronized storm fronts.
Curtis let out a breathless chuckle, raising his hands like a man surrendering in battle. "Whoa, whoa—easy! I didn't forget about you two. Promise. I know you both helped. Big time."
Arthur elbowed Bryce lightly. "Uh oh. He's surrounded. Twins are double the trouble."
Bryce smirked, throwing a playful one-two jab in the air. "That's twin aggro, man. You don't just walk away from that."
Curtis glanced between Arthur and Bryce. "Seriously? No backup?"
Arthur just shook his head. "No way. You're on your own."
"Enjoy the grave you dug," Bryce added.
They burst out laughing, breaking the tension like sunlight after a storm. The moment softened, and Mimi jumped from Clarissa's arms into Theo's, licking his face with joy.
"Silly girl," Theo chuckled, ruffling her ears. "Glad you're safe, too."
The mood shifted to quiet gratitude as Clarissa looked toward Marco. "Honestly... Marco led the way. He deserves all the credit."
All eyes turned to Marco standing at the edge of the ridge. His arms were folded tight, his gaze locked on the burning forest below.
He hadn't spoken since they arrived. Before anyone could approach him, a woman's cry cut through the mountaintop, calm.
"Mera!? Is that you!?"
Mera gasped and ran.
"Mom!"
She rushed into her mother's arms. The woman clung to her like she might vanish again, sobbing into her daughter's hair.
"Oh, my sweet girl… I thought I'd lost you."
"I'm sorry," Mera whispered. "I didn't mean to scare you."
Faye and Colt weren't far behind. They appeared behind her, drawn by the reunion. Mera looked to Faye and wordlessly handed over the teddy bear—Suki.
Faye grabbed the bear but dropped it a second later to throw her arms around Mera.
"I was so scared you wouldn't come back!..." Faye sobbed.
Colt stood silently beside them, fists clenched. "Next time… I won't let you go alone. I swear it."
Mera hugged them both, tears sliding silently down her cheeks. "Thanks, you guys… I love you both."
While the children clung to one another—tangled in tearful relief and fragile promises—Benny made his way toward the edge of the ridge.
There, standing motionless against the flickering light of the burning forest, was Marco.
He didn't turn as Benny approached.
The fire reflected in his eyes.
"Marco."
The boy's reply came quiet. "Boss."
Benny stepped beside him, the silence between them thicker than smoke.
"How'd things go on your end?"
Marco's jaw tensed. His voice was hollow. "Everyone made it. No injuries. No casualties."
"That's something."
Marco shook his head once. "I didn't do anything special. I just led them here. I didn't fight like you and the others. Didn't put my life on the line."
Benny didn't argue. He placed a firm hand on Marco's shoulder—not heavy, not consoling, but grounding.
"You led them through hell, son. That's more than most could've done. Don't undersell it."
Marco didn't speak. His eyes stayed locked on the Iron Fortress in the distance—now a silhouette of ruin, its spires crumbling under orange and red light.
Benny continued, his voice quieter now. "Your parents would've been proud of the man you've become."
He squeezed once, then pulled a silver flask from his pocket. Unscrewed the cap. Took a long drink.
He passed it over.
Marco hesitated before taking it. He raised it to his lips and swallowed.
The burn scorched its way down, sharp and brutal. But it matched the ache in his chest. It settled there.
He handed it back without a word.
"What about you?"
Benny exhaled. His gaze drifted back to the glow on the horizon. "We lost a lot of good men. Brave ones. Some I've known since I was your age."
He didn't elaborate.
He didn't need to.
From their vantage, they watched the Iron Fortress smolder in the distance, its walls broken, its glory buried beneath ruin.
"Not sure how I'll break the news," Benny muttered, watching the flames dance in the distance. "But I think they already know."
The silence stretched, and then—like a crack running down the glass surface—the mood shifted.
At first, it was just a hush. A subtle tension in the air. The kind that comes when eyes begin searching… and can't find what they're looking for.
Murmurs moved like wind down the slope, like a breeze turning cold.
Then, the first sob.
A woman fell to her knees, clutching her child tightly, her cries ragged with disbelief. Another stood frozen, hand over her mouth, the question in her eyes already answered.
Children looked up at their parents, confused by the sudden grief.
A boy tugged on his sister's sleeve, whispering, "Where's Papa?"
No one had the heart to answer.
The joy of reunion was still there but now laced with the pain of absence. Grief spread like wildfire among the crowd from realization, from the hollow emptiness left behind by those who never returned.
Some wept. Some screamed. Some just stared into the dark, too numb to feel anything yet.
And through it all, Benny stood still, hands clenched at his sides, his jaw tight, shoulders heavy with the weight of names that would never be spoken again.
Far beyond the grieving hilltop—beyond the weeping families and shattered hope—across a scorched plain littered with corpses of Devils and ruin, a ridge of blackened stone loomed in the night.
Smoke curled around it like breath from some great beast, and atop it stood shadows wrapped in silence.
Sedgwick Fullerman.
Once rigid with pride, his frame sagged under the invisible weight of failure. Dirt clung to the folds of his coat, and the wind tugged at the tattered hem like it meant to unravel him.
Beside him, Branch stood quietly, clutching a portable scanner in both hands. The screen flickered, spitting out finality in red pulses.
"…Sir," Branch said. "All one hundred Devils… gone."
The device beeped once.
Then went still.
Sedgwick didn't answer.
His fists clenched at his sides, leather gloves groaning under the pressure. His eyes stayed fixed on the battlefield below—the fires, the bones, the ruined husk of the Iron Fortress slowly eaten by flame.
His jaw tightened.
"Gather the horses. We're returning to base."
But the order never had the chance to be carried out.
Because a voice answered first. It was smooth as oil, sharp as broken glass—slid through the darkness like a blade.
"Retreating so soon, Section Commander?"
Sedgwick spun, hand already on the hilt of his word, his voice a growl. "This isn't a retreat! Who dares—"
"It wasn't any of them, sir," Branch said quickly, eyes scanning the surrounding troops. "That voice… it didn't come from us."
The leaves from the nearby trees shivered. Then, without warning, a sudden, biting wind gust swept through the area, cold and sudden.
A figure descended from the night sky like a phantom falling from the stars. He landed without a sound, boots kissing the stone like a whisper.
It was Nozomu. He stood tall, his cloak fluttering around him as the moonlight caught on his hair. His shadow stretched long across the cliff—like a scythe drawn over their throats.
"Yo," he said casually, his voice disturbingly calm for a man who'd just crippled an entire assault from a Section Commander.
Sedgwick's cheeks went pale. Rage and dread warred on his face. But before anyone could react, a sharp gust sliced through the clearing.
His soldiers fell without a sound, slashed down mid-breath, blood from their necks seeping into the soil.
Only Branch remained standing, jaw tight. Before either of them could blink, a blur cleaved through the silence.
Nozomu was beside Sedgwick—arm draped casually over the Section Commander's shoulder with unsettling familiarity, like a predator wrapping itself around cornered prey.
He was faster than a heartbeat. One moment, the wind howled; the next, he was beside Sedgwick.
"Got a minute?"
Sedgwick froze, paralyzed, every nerve in his body locked. He could barely breathe.
Branch's mouth broadened in disbelief.
When he did...? He didn't even make a sound.
"W-what do you want...?" Sedgwick croaked.
Nozomu leaned in, whispering like he was telling a secret.
"In exchange for your life, you will deliver a message to your God-King for me. It's simple. Three words... I know everything."
Nozomu pulled back, hovering just above the ground. Sedgwick staggered, signaling to Branch to make a move, but a blast of wind shoved them back, pinning them in place.
Nozomu rose slowly into the sky.
His voice carried over the ridge like thunder dressed in silk.
"This is the second time I've spared you, Section Commander. There won't be a third. Next time, I won't be alone. We're coming for all of you. Eventually, the Five Section Commanders will fall."
He paused—just long enough for the words to sink in.
Then came the last cut.
"And your so-called God-King, Sen Elkai… will fall alongside you five."
And with that, Nozomu vanished—swallowed by the night sky and starlight.
Branch ran to Sedgwick, who stood frigid, motionless.
"Sir? Say something. What do we do?"
Sedgwick didn't answer. He couldn't. His mind was spinning. His pride was shattered. The wind, the power, Nozomu's presence—it crushed the air from his lungs.
This isn't possible... This man—this filthy Wasteland scum... He's nothing... Yet he wields Dyna... He talks as though he stands above me...
"...How dare he!" Sedgwick snapped. "He dares speak to me with such audacity!? Deliver a message!? Me!? I'll show him!"
"Sir, we have the Section Commander meeting coming up. What are we going to report?" Branch asked, but Sedgwick wasn't listening.
He stormed past Branch, snatching the portable scanner from his hand. His thumb crackled with Dyna.
"He had said all he needed to."
Sedgwick pressed the button.
Back above the battlefield, Nozomu soared high. But then the world shrank beneath him.
A flicker of red.
Below, across the scorched plain, the corpses of the Devils began to glow.
One by one.
Red lights pulsed from their necks… then their chests… then all at once—
BOOM.
A massive chain of explosions tore through the battlefield. The Devils exploded in coordinated bursts, explosions lighting up the dark in an eerie chain of detonations.
Nozomu shielded his face from the light, watching the field below vanish in smoke and a blinding inferno. Shockwaves rippled upward.
Flames licked the sky.
Ash rained upward like a funeral pyre turned inside out.
Nozomu steadied himself in the air, watching the destruction in silence.
Then, slowly, a grin touched his lips.
"…Well played, Section Commander. Well played."