Saria staggered backward, coughing blood, her breath sharp and ragged.
"Damn you…" she hissed, clutching her stomach.
Her fingers found the hilt of a sword — not her own — buried deep within her flesh. Behind her, spikes of crystal and water jutted from her back, glistening red where they had pierced through.
Before her stood a man with his head bowed, his expression shadowed. His hand still gripped the sword embedded in her. His teeth clenched, and though his eyes were hidden beneath his hair, tears streamed freely down his face.
"I had expected you to have changed… Toiaka," Saria breathed.
Tiabishi and Nox froze in horror.
"S–Saria…" Tiabishi whispered.
Saria met her gaze, forcing a faint smile through the pain. She raised one trembling hand and gestured toward the mountains. "Go… Tiabishi. Go find him."
Tiabishi hesitated, then turned and ran, her wings flashing silver as she disappeared into the distance.
Saria's eyes refocused on Toiaka. She drove her fist into his face. Blue energy burst from the impact; his watery blade and crystalline spikes shattered, dissolving into vapor.
"Why…?" she gasped, staring as the wound she left on his face knit itself shut. "Why are you doing this, Toiaka?"
He said nothing. His silence was worse than any curse.
Saria rose to her full height, flames roaring from her wounds. Her eyes glowed molten orange, and the sword of Nota blazed with the same fierce light.
Behind them, Greenfield and Adrian stepped back, wary. Myogafu's mangled body still lay smoldering, his voice rasping through the air, each word a quake in the earth.
"Saria… you… cannot… defeat me…"
His holes pulsed, leaking mana like blood.
"Tough words," Saria snapped, her aura flaring blue. "You think you're immortal?"
Myogafu laughed—a low, broken sound that shook the air. "Show… me… real… power."
Saria's grip tightened on Nota. Her flames turned darker, deeper, until they burned with a blue so intense it devoured all color around it.
"Midnight Campfire!"
She surged forward, her sword slicing through the monster's chest. The sky itself seemed to split, clouds torn apart as blue light erupted upward. Cracks spidered across the ground, glowing with the same eerie fire.
Myogafu's scream echoed through the city. "AAAHHHH—IT… HURTS!" He flailed, aflame, his massive body collapsing into ash before bursting apart in the heavens. Pieces of him rained down like black snow.
Saria exhaled shakily. "Finally… he's done."
A smoldering chunk fell before her—his mouth, still moving.
"You… haven't… defeated… me…" it croaked, before dissolving. "I am… merely… a clone…"
Then it turned to dust.
"Damn it," she muttered, clenching her fist.
Behind her, Toiaka approached, slow and hesitant.
"Hey… are you all right, hun?"
Saria rose, turning her head slightly but not meeting his eyes. "I'm fine. Are you?"
He nodded, a soft smile playing on his lips. "I'm all right, I suppose."
He stepped closer—just one pace.
Her blade thrust backward without hesitation, piercing through his skull. The black-gray stone at its tip cracked and fell apart, the illusion unraveling.
"My husband doesn't have healing magic," Saria said quietly as the false Toiaka faded into smoke.
From the side, Adrian gave a low whistle. "Impressive. Blue flames, illusion-piercing strikes… not something you see every day."
His eyes lingered on her, curious and flirtatious, but Saria ignored him, kneeling beside Nox to check his wounds.
Adrian yawned and turned toward Greenfield. "It's been fun, but I've got better things to do."
He suddenly slammed his fist into Greenfield's head, driving him into the ground with enough force to crack the earth.
"Adrian," Greenfield said, rising slowly, brushing the dirt from his shoulders, his tone dangerously calm. "What are you doing?"
"Giving a proper goodbye," Adrian replied with a grin, then leaped into the air and vanished, Greenfield hurling a few rocks after him in irritation.
"Idiot," Greenfield muttered, rubbing his temple. "But… he gave me an idea."
He glanced around the ruins, smiled faintly, and dashed off into the distance.
"That… was something," Nox groaned, standing shakily, his body streaked with dried blood.
"Flying into a church wasn't all bad," Persephone said, emerging from the rubble, brushing dust from her dress. "The holy spirits blessed my face."
"I think those spirits abandoned both you and this town," Saria shot back with a weak laugh before collapsing onto her knees.
"Please," she groaned. "Just kill me."
Persephone smirked wickedly. "Gladly. For the honor!"
Nox and Persephone burst into laughter. Saria scowled, muttering curses under her breath.
Then the sky rippled with light. A massive clock appeared above them, golden gears turning in the heavens.
"Forget about me already?" Doviam's voice boomed. "Fine. I'll return to my own dimension."
Golden light descended, washing over the city. Wounds closed. Buildings reformed. Time rewound itself into place.
Saria looked down—her body whole again. "You healed me…"
"Of course," Doviam said, his voice softer now. "It's my duty to protect this plane."
Persephone smiled, a tear tracing down her cheek. "Goodbye, Doviam. Thank you… best friend."
He opened a swirling portal, its edge surrounded by an accretion disk of golden energy. "Take care of each other," he said, then stepped through. The portal sealed behind him in a flash of blinding light.
"How powerful are they, really?" Saria murmured, still gazing at the place where he vanished.
"I've heard Time Masters can manipulate entire timelines," Persephone answered, "if they possess enough Time Stones."
They turned toward the broken church—the only building Doviam hadn't restored.
"But why didn't he fix the church?" Nox asked, limping beside Saria, his hand clutching his leg.
"Because," Persephone said quietly, "the Radiant Dawn will send one of their gods."
Both Nox and Saria frowned. "Why? It's just a church."
Persephone shook her head. "People say the church is the vessel of light within humanity. If the Radiant Dawn is moving… it means this world stands at the brink."
The three stood in silence as people gathered around the ruins, murmuring prayers.
.............................................................................
In the Demon Territory
Far north, deep beneath a range of obsidian peaks, a cave glowed with faint red light.
"It should be here," Greenfield muttered, stepping into the cavern. His boots echoed against the stone. Ahead lay a wide chamber, carved with symbols of ancient wars. A table stood at its center, covered in dust and relics.
From the shadows, a figure emerged. "Greenfield… why are you here?"
A grin spread across Greenfield's face. "I'm here to form a clan—with you, Myogafu."
The creature materialized fully, followed by Adrian, who landed beside them with an easy smirk.
"I'm in too," Adrian said, stretching.
Myogafu's eyes gleamed. "I will agree… on two conditions." He pointed toward Greenfield. "First, I am the leader. You will serve as a general. Adrian, my subordinate."
He paused. The air thickened with darkness. "Second… we will bring an end to the human race. We will kill all who stand in our way."
Greenfield studied him for a long moment. Then he nodded. "Fine by me. As long as I can collect the Orders I seek."
He turned to Adrian, who was already dancing in excitement. "Let's start recruiting! Evil, wicked, blood-soaked scum—my kind of people!"
Myogafu spread his arms wide. From the gaping holes in his body, dark mana erupted, spiraling into the air like storm clouds.
"From… now on…" he proclaimed, his voice shaking the walls. "We shall be known as the Brothers of Mercy."
Greenfield and Adrian exchanged smirks, raising their fists.
A single, resounding brofist echoed through the cave.
.............................................................................
Meanwhile
Far away, the sun dipped low over a quiet town. Achlys, Cryo, and Lecia strolled through the cobblestone streets.
"Cryo, I'm starving," Achlys complained. "Where's the food?"
Before Cryo could answer, an old man appeared ahead of them, tapping a sword against the walls as he walked. Tik… tik-tik… tik… tik-tik… thop.
He wore simple pajamas, though fifty-six small crosses were stitched neatly across his chest. A long golden-hilted sword acted as his walking stick. His beard was vast, his bald head gleaming in the dim light.
"Young man," he said, his voice soft but carrying strange weight. "Do you know where I might find vegetables?"
Achlys blinked. "No idea, old geezer. I'm looking for them too."
The man nodded, turning slowly. His sword tapped once more—tik, tik, tik… thop.
He stopped a few steps away and looked back over his shoulder.
"Young man," he said, voice suddenly grave. "You should hide the marking… when you enter the clouds."
Achlys froze. A strange chill coursed down his spine. The green mark on his skin flickered faintly, glowing brighter in response to the man's words.