Froilan gripped his sword tightly, blood dripping from both his blade and wounded hand. His gaze was locked onto Jacques, who was laughing maniacally as he struck down Serolfian soldiers without mercy. So consumed by the chaos, Jacques didn't notice Froilan approaching from behind.
"Hahaha! Go and die!" Jacques bellowed, plunging his sword deeper into a barbarian's chest.
Without warning, Froilan thrust his blade through Jacques' back. The steel pierced through his chest, and Jacques' eyes widened in disbelief. Blood spilled from his mouth as he let out a gurgled laugh.
"H-How dare you…" Jacques growled, trying to lift his sword, but his body refused to obey.
He froze.
Froilan gave a cold, triumphant smirk. "This is my revenge," he whispered.
The blade had been laced with poison—no ordinary toxin, but one crafted by his sister. A single cut was fatal. There was no cure. It worked swiftly, burning through the body like wildfire, decaying flesh within minutes.
"Y-You…" Jacques struggled to speak, horror filling his eyes. To die like this—at the hands of a fallen king—it was unthinkable.
He screamed in agony as the venom coursed through him. His body rotted rapidly, turning to ash and bone before Froilan's eyes. And then, silence.
Froilan closed his eyes. Justice had been served. His people could finally rest in peace.
.
.
Meanwhile, Maikell and Matias remained locked in brutal combat. Blood soaked their clothes and faces, both men exhausted, yet neither willing to fall. Their bodies screamed in pain, but they pushed through—knowing that the first to falter would die.
Maikell wiped the blood from his brow. "Let's end this."
Matias smirked. "I was just about to say the same."
They raised their swords, each stepping into position. One final breath. One final charge.
This would be the end.
In a flash, they lunged toward each other, blades aimed to kill. But before their swords could strike—
A dark smoke exploded around them.
Their bodies froze in midair, suspended and suffocating in the thick shadow. Their swords clattered to the ground, useless.
"What the hell is this?" Maikell growled, struggling.
Matias's eyes narrowed. The aura—the energy—was familiar. Too familiar.
Someone was approaching.
He turned his head toward the entrance... and froze.
Maikell's eyes widened in disbelief. "D-Dad?"
Matias staggered back. "F-Father?"
It couldn't be. And yet—it was.
Their father had returned.
.
.
Mikhail stood silently, staring at his two sons suspended in the air—both bloodied, wounded, and breathless. His deathly gaze bore into them, making the brothers instinctively gulp.
From behind, Kaye gasped and covered her mouth. Her eyes widened in shock as she recognized them.
"Matias! Maikell!" she cried out, rushing toward them.
As the dark smoke dissipated, the brothers gently descended to the ground. Kaye pulled them into her arms and held them tightly, tears streaming down her cheeks.
"I missed you both so much," she wept.
"Mom…" Maikell murmured, overwhelmed.
She cupped his blood-stained face, wiping away the smears with trembling hands. "Look at you…"
Maikell stared at her in disbelief. "Why are you here? How did you get here?" he asked, concern etched across his face.
Kaye shook her head, tears still flowing. "It doesn't matter how. We're here for you. We've come to take you and your brothers home."
A small, relieved smile broke across Maikell's lips as he embraced her again.
Matias, still frozen in place, stared at the woman he never thought he'd see again. "Mother…" he whispered, eyes welling with tears.
Kaye turned to him with a warm smile. She reached out and gently touched his face. "Matias… You've become such a strong man. I've missed you more than words can say."
Unable to hold back any longer, Matias collapsed into her embrace, sobbing. The mighty emperor, feared by nations, was now a broken son in his mother's arms.
"I'm so glad you're alive," he choked out.
"Forgive me… for leaving you and your siblings behind," she whispered.
Mikhail finally stepped forward, watching the scene quietly.
"Hubby… Our sons," Kaye said through her tears.
Mikhail gave a solemn nod and a small smile.
Matias quickly turned and knelt before him. "Welcome back, Your Majesty."
"I'm no longer emperor," Mikhail replied calmly.
Matias stood.
"Now," Mikhail said, folding his arms, "would one of you explain why you were trying to kill each other?"
Both brothers lowered their gazes, unable to meet their father's eyes.
"Forgive me, Father," Matias said. "I did it for the empire. We are at war, and… I believed my younger brother was working with the enemy."
Mikhail raised an eyebrow and shifted his gaze to Maikell.
"I didn't know we were brothers," Maikell replied quickly. "I only sided with the Montclairs to protect my siblings."
"Don't be too harsh on them," Kaye interjected softly. "They had no idea about each other's existence until now."
Mikhail nodded, his expression softening. "Don't worry…"
"Dad, how did you find us?" Maikell asked.
"Maikell!" a familiar voice called out.
They turned to see Thane running toward them. Behind him were Kaye's other husbands—along with Charmagne and Izak.
"Grandpa!" Matias exclaimed, looking at Charmagne.
Charmagne chuckled. "Every time you call me that, I feel so old—despite my youthful charm."
"I'm just glad you're safe," Matias said with a smile.
"Sorry we're late," Charmagne replied.
"But how did you all meet?" Matias asked, puzzled.
"We were traveling through the forest, returning to the empire," Charmagne explained, "when Izak and I crossed paths with your mother and her husbands."
"It was fate," Kaye added. "Had we not found each other, you two might've ended up killing one another."
"Mother?"
Their reunion was suddenly interrupted by approaching footsteps.
Arash and Froilan emerged—both bloodied, both stunned.
"Mother!" Arash cried out and rushed forward, tears in his eyes.
Kaye wrapped both sons in her arms. "My boys," she whispered, cradling them tightly.
After their emotional reunion, the group gathered and explained everything that had happened in the empire to Mikhail and the others.
Mikhail clenched his fists, anger simmering beneath the surface.
"Rameses, Jean, and Jacques are dead," Froilan reported. "Only a handful of Montclair soldiers remain. But the monster… it's still out there, wreaking havoc."
As if on cue, a deafening roar echoed from outside, shaking the walls.
"We end this now," Mikhail declared, his voice firm.
Everyone nodded.
Weapons in hand, they rushed out together—united at last—to face the final monster.