While the battle in the lower city reached its brutal conclusion, another war ignited atop the Rotten Garden.
The unknown Pillar finally moved.
He did not shout.
He did not rush.
He merely raised a single hand.
From his shadow, countless black, grasping hands erupted outward, tearing through the air like living weapons, surging straight toward the trio and the princess.
"Protect her!" Amira shouted.
Asuma, Leon, and Amira immediately moved as one, forming a wall in front of Urillia. Steel flashed. Lightning cracked. Fire roared.
They cut the hands down—
only for more to replace them.
Again.
And again.
An endless tide.
Each severed shadow dissolved into smoke, only to reform and strike anew, as if the garden itself were feeding the spell.
"How long," the Pillar asked calmly, his voice echoing unnaturally across the garden, "do you think you can endure a spell that has no end?"
"Tch—this bastard—!" Leon snarled, ducking under a grasping claw and carving through another with his dagger. "He's not even trying!"
"He's playing with us," Amira growled, her spear crackling as she blasted shadows apart. "Testing us."
Urillia's eyes narrowed, her golden pupils gleaming.
"We should retreat," the princess said coolly. "This opponent is beyond what you three can handle right now."
"No."
Asuma's voice cut through the chaos.
He stepped forward, slicing through the shadows with raw determination.
"I'm not leaving Latriys."
Urillia turned sharply toward him. "Even knowing you might die?"
"Yes!"
His answer was immediate—absolute.
"I won't abandon her again."
For a moment, Urillia studied him in silence, as if seeing something she hadn't before.
Then—
A voice echoed inside Asuma's mind.
I will help you—for one minute.
The cocoon is close to blooming.
His grip tightened.
Suddenly, his sword darkened, black liquid magic dripping from the blade like blood that refused to fall. The air around him warped as something ancient stirred.
Asuma swung.
The arc of power that followed was nothing like before.
A massive wave of distorted aura cleaved through the shadow hands—erasing them entirely—and slammed into the Pillar himself.
The ground split. The garden screamed.
The Pillar was forced back, his eyes widening as he instantly raised a towering wall of shadows to block the attack.
The impact shook the entire mountaintop.
"What... was that?" Urillia asked, genuine surprise breaking through her composure.
"That magic..." Leon muttered. "It's the same thing we felt back in Bagon."
The shadow wall dissolved slowly.
The Pillar stepped forward again, unharmed—but no longer amused.
"If I were any weaker," he admitted, his voice laced with intrigue, "that strike would have killed me."
His gaze locked onto Asuma.
"The promised boy," he continued. "Hmmm I understand."
A slow, unsettling smile crept across his face.
"How extraordinary must you be," the Pillar said softly,
"for demons, witches, apostles—and even royalty—to desire you so desperately?"
As the Pillar spoke, a sharp cracking sound echoed through the garden.
All eyes turned.
The cocoon encasing Lyra—once still and pulsating—began to fracture, thin crimson veins spreading across its surface like broken glass. With every pulse, the cracks widened, and the air grew heavier, drenched in oppressive shadow and blood.
"She's breaking free..." Leon muttered, dread creeping into his voice.
"Enough of this pointless conversation," Urillia said coldly, stepping forward. "I have no intention of facing two city-destroying entities at once."
Her golden eyes flared—no, transformed—the draconic pupils igniting with ancient authority.
"With the Draak Eyes I possess, I can reverse the seal placed on her," she continued. "But I must get close."
Asuma didn't hesitate.
"Then that's all we need to hear."
Black fire erupted along his blade, flames twisting unnaturally as the borrowed power within him surged once more. The woman inside him was still there—watching, lending him strength.
Leon rolled his shoulders, drawing his bow as wind coiled around the string.
"I really want to know just how strong these so-called Pillars are."
Lightning exploded around Amira's spear and feet, arcs snapping violently against the stone beneath her.
"Guess we're about to find out."
In the same heartbeat—
All three attacked.
"Shadow Magic: Death Hands."
The Pillar's voice was calm—almost bored.
The ground, the walls, the very shadows themselves ruptured.
Millions of shadowy hands burst forth in an instant, swallowing the trio whole. The garden vanished behind a writhing mass of black limbs, crushing, restraining, suffocating.
Only one figure remained untouched.
Urillia walked forward unimpeded.
The shadows recoiled from her presence, slithering away as if afraid to even brush against her gaze.
"Tch... those golden eyes," the Pillar clicked his tongue.
From the darkness behind him, a long, jagged blade formed—black as void, its surface etched with malevolent runes. The very same weapon that had impaled Sage Fionalla.
"Dark magic does not bind royalty," he said coolly. "A blessing granted by the gods themselves."
He lifted the sword, shadow pooling at its edge.
"But this weapon," he continued, stepping toward her, "will suffice."
Urillia did not move.
She stood calmly beneath the descending blade, her expression unwavering—unafraid.
The sword came down—
And metal screamed.
A figure appeared between them in a blur of black flame.
Asuma.
His armor was shattered. His body was bruised and bloodied. His breathing was ragged.
But his sword was raised.
"You're still alive?" the Pillar said, genuine surprise flickering across his face.
Urillia's eyes narrowed as she stared through him, her Draak Eyes peeling back layers of illusion and deceit.
"So that's who you are," she said quietly.
"Kulmar Tote—Mad Scientist of the Iron Empire."
Her voice hardened.
"The Tenth Pillar.
The Apostle of Darkness."
Kulmar's lips curled into a grin.
"Tch... those damned eyes," he muttered, amused rather than angered.
Around them, Lyra's cocoon cracked wider—
And something ancient began to wake.
The garden trembled.
And the fate of Talagra teetered on the edge of annihilation.