On the eighteenth floor, a raw, primal scream tore through the inferno-scarred chamber.
It began as a desperate sob, blossoming into a terrifying, guttural cry that echoed the young girl's descent into darkness.
"Tempest!" she shrieked, a single word laden with unspeakable pain.
"Tempest!!"
The second cry was a howl, a savage, mournful sound, as if her very soul was being ripped asunder.
Then, "Rage!!" and the very air erupted.
A blinding flash of light consumed the space, followed by a deafening roar as the wind itself turned an abyssal black.
"No…it can't be!" Gareth growled, his voice thick with disbelief, his frame tensing.
"It's Ais!" Riveria gasped, emerald eyes wide with dawning horror.
"She's combining her magic with her skill!"
In an instant, a colossal tornado, sprawling across the entire floor, violently contracted, drawing inwards until it cloaked the young Ais, shrouding her in a fearsome, swirling gale.
The next moment, she became a blur, a dark projectile launching herself at Delphyne.
"Aaaaaaaaaaaaaghhh!!"
Ais's battle cry was a broken thing, fueled by an agonizing past.
Clad in the jet-black wind, her weapon, Desperate, sliced through the great dragon's flesh.
Blood, hot and viscous as boiling magma, erupted from the wound.
The girl's armor of storms, a living tempest, protected her from the dragon's retaliatory attacks, and with each frantic slash, six sharp blades of devastating wind tore at the beast's hide.
"Rooooooooaaaaaaaaaghhh?!"
Delphyne, bellowed in agony, experiencing true pain for the first time in its existence.
The ominous black wind relentlessly gnawed at the dragon's flesh, consuming it so rapidly that its regeneration struggled, then failed, to keep pace.
"She's…she's winning!" Riveria cried, a flicker of triumph battling with her mounting dread. "But…!"
As if to confirm her darkest fears, at that precise moment, a magnificent, chilling crack rang out. A stark, jagged split appeared down the entire length of Ais's sword, Desperate.
"Desperate got damaged?!" Gareth bellowed, his voice laced with absolute disbelief.
"That beast's hide is stronger than a Durandal weapon?"
The battle-hardened pair from Loki familia knew all too well the darkness lurking within the Sword Princess's heart, a shadow she typically kept caged.
Yet, this was their first time witnessing it manifest with such raw, destructive force.
Riveria's eyes trembled, not just from the wind, but from sheer terror.
"Stop it… Stop it! You can't keep this up! You'll die!" she screamed, her voice hoarse, desperate to reach Ais.
But Ais did not respond.
Her eyes, once a vibrant gold, were now dark and hollow, twin abysses of despair.
Her pursuit of revenge had consumed her, rendering her unresponsive, unstoppable.
As if feeding on her deep hatred, the black wind swelled, growing in both volume and terrifying intensity.
"Ais!!" Dimitra muttered, her knuckles white as she clutched her bow, her own worry a silent scream.
.........…
Up until moments ago, the eighteenth floor had been a searing dominion of fire and infernos. Now, in the blink of an eye, the ominous black wind had replaced it all, a suffocating shroud. The entire strike team could only watch, paralyzed by terror.
"The Sword Princess…" Ryuu murmured, her eyes fixed on the maelstrom.
"She's fighting that thing by herself!"
"She's just one person!" Lyra yelled, her voice strained.
"How the hell's she doing that?!"
Meanwhile, Alfia observed with an unsettling, almost serene admiration.
"Exceptional," she stated, her eyes wide open.
"The black wind. Unparalleled power. No wonder Hera wanted it."
Despite her distance from the raging battle, the gale emanating from it was so fierce it extinguished her voice, scattered the lingering flames, and sundered the very earth beneath their feet.
Alfia had to shout for the girls to even hear her.
"See that?" she cried, her voice cutting through the tempest.
"That is the power of loss! Of fear and despair! That is the pinnacle of mortal strength, which can only be achieved by those who walk the darkest path!"
Her eyes gleamed with a fanatic conviction.
"Those are the heights our ancestors attained! That is the peak they gazed upon! Like her, we must know sacrifice! Like her, the many must die so that the chosen few can ascend higher! Only then will we find the strength to slay the Black Dragon!"
This was the chilling reasoning behind the conquerors' brutal philosophy.
Ais, in her terrifying display of power, was living proof that their quest would bear fruit, that a return to the merciless Age of Heroes was the only path to victory.
"No! That's not right!" Alise yelled, her voice ringing with defiance.
"Is it not? Then show me," Alfia challenged, her head turning to address the team.
Unlike her dark master, abstract debates and philosophical arguments held no interest for her. What she demanded was starkly simple.
"Show me a greater power. Show me proof I cannot deny."
The black wind, born of Ais's searing rage and bottomless despair, was Alfia's argument made manifest, swirling destruction incarnate.
To dissuade her, to challenge her brutal dogma, the team needed to surpass it.
"Justice! Determination! Willpower! If these are so important to you," Alfia declared, her voice cold and unyielding, "then show me why!"...
.........
Elsewhere, cloaked at the edge of the tempest that scorned interference, Erebus listened.
The shrill, agonized declaration of the witch, Alfia, sliced through the cacophony like honed steel.
"Hmm. I like the sound of that," the god mused, his voice a low, insidious murmur, though the storm hopelessly obliterated his words.
"That's a scream only a woman who's known despair can make."
A grin formed on his lips…..a chilling, borrowed expression.
The god wore Eren's smile.
"Now, Leon. And the rest of you adventurers. Can your justice measure up to that?"
He tore his eyes away from Alfia and the beleaguered team to regard another conflict raging nearby, a battlefield cloaked in sparks and flames where a single warrior fought a faceless man.
"That woman's insane!" Kaguya yelled, her breath ragged after hearing Alfia's declaration.
"She wants to turn back time and plunge us into the Age of Heroes?!"
Her opponent, Vito, stood amidst the wreckage, a figure of disconcerting calm.
"Is that so wrong?" he asked, his voice smooth and unnervingly reasonable.
"I, too, was surprised at first, but her reasoning is sound, no?"
"Sound?! She wants to bring death and destruction to us all! How could that ever be right?"
"Because her desire is grounded in reality. It's based on fact."
Kaguya inhaled sharply, the sudden silence in their exchange more piercing than any noise.
Vito opened one eye a sliver and continued, his gaze measured.
"These are facts of which you know nothing, may I remind you? To you, their actions may seem evil, but Glutton and Silence have no doubts their cause is just."
"What?!"
"They fight to save the world; to protect it. Is that not the same cause you uphold, even though your methods may differ?"
Kaguya wanted to deny the premise, to insult their plan as foolish and inefficient.
But the one thing she couldn't do was deny the reality that Zald and Alfia knew.
The conquerors believed the only path to victory was one paved with torment and suffering. Even if Kaguya felt otherwise, she could not dispute the philosophical validity of that harrowing choice.
"Don't you people say it all the time? Good and evil are just two sides of the same coin. We all possess our own facts. Our own truths. Each of which persuades the coin to fall one way or the other."
As Kaguya stood speechless, reeling from the sudden shift in ethical ground, Vito's grin widened.
"Let me ask you a question, fair maiden. How do I seem in those eyes of yours? …Oh, don't give me such a horrid look. I'm all ears."
"You're a bloodthirsty, blood-crazed maniac. All you know how to do is murder," she spat, her contempt unconcealed.
"I see. You certainly don't hold back, do you? However, while my murderous habit may be a fact, it is not my truth."
Beneath Kaguya's scornful gaze, Vito offered a shrug.
Then he raised his hand and ran a finger along his eyelid.
"To my eyes, young lady. You are nothing but a loathsome gray."
"…What?"
Vito fixed his scarlet eye on Kaguya.
The red was the unsettling hue of fresh, still-slick blood, while the light inside seemed utterly fake, like an empty window overlooking a dead landscape.
"I was born with a peculiar defect," he explained, his tone conversational.
"Everything I see is colored the same ashy gray."
"...!?"
"Similarly, people's voices sound like a rasp to my ears. The finest food and drink taste like foul, rotten waste. Never once have I smelled a scent I would call fragrant."
Vito was not merely colorblind; each of his senses—save touch—were hopelessly impaired.
He was forced to live and experience a fundamentally different world from everyone else.
"Ah, but if only that were the end of it," he went on, oblivious to Kaguya's rising horror.
"You see, one day, I discovered something."
Vito still wore the same scornful smile, only now, his disdain seemed turned upon himself, an expression of self-inflicted pity.
"In my canvas of eternal gray, only one color shone true: the vivid red of other people's blood."
That was Vito's past.
His truth.
To the young Vito, the world was a cold and barren place.
His parents spoke of beauty that did not exist to him.
His fellow boys wore smiles, but he didn't understand the reason why.
Their happiness was a lie.
Their love for the world was fake.
It had to be, because all he knew was gray.
Bland.
Tasteless, scentless.
Every noise sounded like the miserable wailing of a chained animal.
It was ironic, because Vito's life was not otherwise a troubled one.
The folk of his village were merry and kind, appreciating the world they lived in.
Meanwhile, the mind of that young boy grew more twisted by the day.
The young Vito, however, was shrewd and cunning enough to conceal his defect.
He lived a false life among his peers, pretending that he was one of them….an act that only deepened his sorrow.
"The world is filled with light," they would say.
To Vito, those words were nonsense.
But fearing being ostracized, he played along.
He lived as though he believed it, while inwardly cursing his kinsmen's lies.
The smile on his face and the thoughts in his mind were ever at odds, grinding against each other like sandpaper, whittling down the young boy's sanity until one day, he'd had enough.
He turned his fists on a girl of his village—a sweet young thing who greatly admired him.
In his rage, he spilled her blood, a sight the peace of his village had so far denied him.
For the first time, Vito beheld the nectar of the gods.
A fresh wine that surpassed all others in its sweetness.
"Never shall I forget that day! Oh, how I wished to see it once more!" howled Vito, giddy with reminiscence, before his voice strained in synthesized grief.
"Alas, no matter how much of my own blood I shed, that vibrant hue would not reveal itself."
He locked eyes with Kaguya, the red of his own gaze intensifying.
"For as twisted luck would have it," he stated, "only the blood of others suited my needs."
The Far Eastern girl could not believe the terrifying reality she was hearing.
"You see, I tried everything," Vito went on, the explanation chillingly clinical.
"Yet without fear, without grief, without pain and despair… without any of these negative emotions, the blood looked just like everything else."
"What…?!"
Kaguya's eyes went wide, searching his expression for some trace, anything that would expose his tale as a twisted joke, but she failed.
The look in the man's eyes told her everything he said was the absolute truth.
A chilling cackle echoed across the windswept crag, a sound so utterly devoid of mirth it carved holes in the brittle silence.
Vito, his eyes alight with a disturbing clarity, threw his head back, a wide smile splitting his pale face.
"Ha-ha-ha-ha! And once I realized that, I couldn't help myself! What if I cut someone, I thought? What if I beat them with a stone? What if I kill them?!"
Heinous acts, beyond any sane description, bloomed in his mind with vibrant, terrifying detail.
"From that point on, my world had color! Life returned to my withered heart, and I gave myself over to the demands of my broken mind!"
Passion gripped his voice, a horrifying fervor.
"When people screamed, I heard it! When people bled, I saw it! When people burned, I smelled it! Oh, and the smell! It was like nothing else!"
This was passion, yes, but interwoven with a deep disgust for the very flaws that forged him. "Heh-heh-heh-heh-heh! How could the world be this way? How could I be cursed only to gain sanity through inhumane acts?!"
He railed against an unseen tormentor.
"What is this, if not a paradox of creation? What is this, if not some divine comedy of errors? Should I be expected to kill myself and erase the gods' mistake?"
Vito paused, his gaze distant, as if lending the conundrum ample thought.
For a fleeting instant, a shadow of sorrow touched his features, but it was swiftly washed away, replaced by a surge of pure, unadulterated anger.
"No," he declared, his voice firm, resolute.
"That cannot be the way! The people of this world don't know their privilege! They go ignorant about their lives, experiencing pleasure, while I have to kill for it! Is that not an injustice that ought to be addressed?! If I am a defect this world produced, then is this world not at fault for producing me?!"
The man wove his indignant tirade, his voice rising, arriving at last at his chilling, self-proclaimed noble conclusion.
He threw his arms wide, baring his truth for the world to see, a lone figure silhouetted against a bruised landscape.
"There is only one way to strike back at this imperfect universe," he proclaimed.
"And that is to destroy the world of mortal men! The great error must be corrected! That is my purpose!"
Kaguya, her stance rigid, shot the man a dirty glare.
"…And that is why you stand with evil?" she challenged, her voice low with incredulity.
"Yes. Because to proclaim my truth, I must first disprove what you all call justice. Then, in order to stop this world creating any more poor victims like me, it must be remade."
The furious winds of war carried the dark follower's quest to his master's ears.
Standing atop his precipice, Erebus listened without a word.
Vito turned, shooting a smile towards his overlord, a complex expression both loving and scornful.
"Those detestable gods shall see what their creation destroyed, and I can only hope a new and perfect world will be born in its place."
But Kaguya was not swayed.
"So what? You expect me to pity you?" she spat.
"Not at all," Vito replied dismissively.
"I simply wanted you to understand the difference between facts and truth."
He flicked his wrist, and his bloodstained knife materialized once more in his right hand.
"Who knows, maybe some small part of you will agree with me…and make you stand still while I cut you down!"
He flew toward her without warning, a blur of motion.
Kaguya, quick as thought, blocked his brutal blade with the unyielding steel of her own sword. "You cannot become good just by willing it! You cannot be a hero through intent alone!" Vito said.
"I am living proof! I am cursed to be reviled! That is why I must kill you!"
This was his truth, his ash, his defect.
Anger and an ironclad, twisted faith drove his blade.
His strikes rained down on Kaguya without mercy, a relentless storm that forced her to give all she had just to parry.
Her clothes began to shred, her skin to tear, ragged cuts blooming across her form.
"This is my evil!" he roared.
"This is my justice!"…
.........
Back in the Ganesha familia home, silence reigned on the patio, broken only by the distant, muffled echoes of conflict shaking the city center.
"Who are you and how did you get in here?" Adi questioned, her voice firm despite the prickle of danger.
The man standing before her was entirely covered in taut, pale bandages, a strange silhouette against the grey sky.
He ignored her, his gaze lifted towards the heavens, seemingly contemplating something far removed from their immediate confrontation.
This stranger had appeared without a sound, and he radiated a strength that Adi could immediately sense—a power vast enough to be terrifying.
How far beyond her own capabilities he stood, she didn't know, but the current Adi, hardened by recent trials, knew better than to act rashly.
The old Adi perhaps would have charged the intruder without pause; the new Adi assessed the threat with cold rationality.
Within the confines of the familia home, civilians were huddled in monitored areas, guarded by lower-tier adventurers.
The gates leading to the sanctuary's inner core were sealed, accessible only by some of those currently fighting on the frontlines.
The stranger's presence in this critical secure zone left no doubt: he was an enemy, likely aligned with the evilus.
'I have to somehow let the others know, but…' Adi contemplated her agonizing limitations. Draco, vulnerable and unconscious, lay in the room directly behind the intruder.
She couldn't abandon her friend.
The messenger who had relayed her sister's plight had already gone, limiting her options to one desperate measure: stave off the intruder while screaming for help, praying someone would hear and call for backup.
'I just hope he doesn't take Draco hostage' she thought, her grasp tightening around her sword's hilt as she prepared to charge and shout.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you."
The voice echoed chillingly close in Adi's ears.
The intruder remained a considerable distance away, yet his words sounded as though they were whispered directly against her temple.
"Wha…"
Adi tried to speak, but her mouth snapped shut.
A bandaged hand had clamped over her lips, silencing her instantly.
It was only then she realized the intruder was no longer in front of her.
He stood at her side.
'When… how?'
Adi gasped internally, her body trembling slightly as weakness threatened to overwhelm her.
The man had moved with such impossible speed that what she had been looking at moments before had been nothing more than a lingering afterimage.
Adi understood the truth: she was once again at the cusp of death.
Whoever this intruder was, his power was ridiculous—enough to silently end her life in the blink of an eye.
"Good girl," came the voice again, pulling Adi from her paralyzed shock.
Swish!
Adi instinctively lunged and swung her sword, but the blade cut through empty air.
"Who are you? State your business!" Adi yelled, the sudden burst of volume a desperate attempt to dissipate the fear welling within her heart.
To concede to this overwhelming power was to lose something precious within herself.
"Relax, young whelp, and reduce your voice," the intruder calmly warned.
He was now casually seated on the patio, directly facing the door to the room where Draco rested.
"You…" Adi started, but quickly held her tongue, the threat to her friend paramount.
"Good. You are not stupid. I have not come here to spill any unnecessary blood—well, that's not exactly right," the intruder corrected himself.
"Anyway, I came here for a rematch with the dragon boy over there."
He pointed a bandaged finger toward Draco's room.
Adi's eyes widened as the fragmented rumors clicked together in her mind.
She had heard the recent bad rumors surrounding the Bahamut familia and the catastrophe at the factory district.
"Are you the Level 7 called Mors, who lost to Draco?" Adi hesitantly asked.
"Ugh, I wouldn't exactly phrase it that way, but I did indeed lose," Mors replied.
Adi felt her heart nearly stop.
She had feared he was stronger, but the gulf of four entire levels left her breathless.
"I see. So, what do you intend to do now? As you can see, Draco is not well," Adi probed, trying to keep her tone level.
"Hmm, what will I do indeed? Perhaps I should just kill him now, but will that quell my rage? Perhaps waiting for his recovery would be more worthwhile," Mors contemplated aloud, seeming genuinely torn between two deadly options.
However within a few seconds, his eyes snapped back to Adi, and he asked a chilling question ….
"My personal vendetta aside, what should I do with you and everyone in this stronghold? Although in this sorry state, I am still a part of the evilus coalition and should do my share of work, even if those lesser creatures hold not much faith in me anymore."
Mors's eyes narrowed, and a sudden, suffocating wave of pure bloodlust washed over Adi.
She stiffened under the pressure, barely managing to maintain her grip on her sword in defiance.
"Can you hear that?" Mors asked another question, tilting his head.
"Hear what?" Adi replied, her voice strained.
"The battle in the Central Park. It seems the conclusion has arrived. Zald seems to have won," Mors stated.
"It can't be. He lost," Adi muttered, but she knew he was right.
The monumental, city-shaking clashes that had centered the fighting had completely stopped.
Now, she could hear it more clearly: the desperate cries of her fellow adventurers mixed with the triumphant growls of monsters in the near distance.
The adventurers were losing.