The moment stretched like a blade held at the edge of a scream.
And then—
The pressure broke.
Not from Myrwol. Not from the Tower.
From them.
G's body trembled, not from fear—but resistance. His hands clenched. His Sigil flared.
For a second, it looked like the world bent inward toward him. Sound vanished.
Stage II – Vox Silens.
The silence deepened into a gravitational stillness. It wasn't peace. It was reversal—a tranquil storm collapsing inward. Myrwol's roar faded into a mute void.
"Enough," G whispered.
His voice rang out clearly despite the silence—a contradiction, a paradox. His aura surged with golden resonance, smooth and layered like the strike of a tuning fork against reality. The battlefield shimmered. Pressure lifted just enough.
Not far behind—
Risan fell.
Or it seemed that way—until the glass under his feet rippled. He stood not on stone, but his own reflection, distorted and bleeding with fractured images of everyone around him.
Stage II – Imago Fragmentum.
"You want truth?" Risan's voice echoed from five places at once. "Then see yourself."
The mirror images twisted free, semi-autonomous projections that weren't Myrwol—but shards of him. Raw rage. Starved pride. Self-hatred.
Each one moved independently, each with a glare that pierced to the soul.
Myrwol laughed.
"Parlor tricks. Smoke and glass."
But as he lunged, something unexpected happened—
He hesitated.
Not out of fear.
Out of recognition.
The aura from G and Risan wasn't chaotic. It was sharp. Dangerous.
He turned his attention, now genuinely interested—like a predator sniffing at something just poisonous enough to give pause.
"So you're still evolving... Is that it?"
He smiled.
"Then I'll stop playing."
The moment shattered.
Myrwol's true power surged—no longer contained. The terrain exploded beneath his feet as he vanished and reappeared mid-air, above them, casting a monstrous shadow.
He wasn't suppressing himself anymore.
And that's when it happened.
A scream tore through the air—
Rorek.
He didn't run. He didn't hesitate.
He leapt, blade forward, Sigil glowing in open defiance.
"Not yet, bastard—NOT YET!"
Myrwol looked at him like one might look at a child waving a stick.
And then—
Impact.
A crimson burst. A shockwave.
The sound of something tearing.
The battlefield went quiet.
Rorek hung in the air for a second. His sword had struck something—but Myrwol hadn't moved.
"...Ah."
That was all Rorek managed to say before the light in his eyes dimmed.
Myrwol's hand was through his chest.
He turned his head lazily to Kael and the others, Rorek's limp form still in his grasp.
"One down."
He let go.
Rorek fell.
Rorek hit the ground like thunder.
A burst of dust. A muted thud.
No scream. No last words. Just silence—and the sound of Kael's breath catching in his throat.
Allen froze mid-step. His eyes went wide, mouth half open in disbelief.
"No—"
Kael didn't remember moving. He was there, beside Rorek's body, wings flickering, wild wind surging violently around him like a storm on the verge of snapping.
Rorek's eyes were still open.
But no light remained.
Kael's hand trembled as he reached for him.
There was nothing left to save.
"Damn it... DAMN IT!"
The wind exploded outward from him in a spiraling burst, forcing Myrwol to slide a half-step back—not from damage, but from surprise.
"So you can feel. I was wondering."
Myrwol looked down at the red coating his clawed arm like it was beneath him. Then, with a flick, he cast Rorek's blood across the battlefield.
Kael stood. The wind howled now—not from his Sigil, but from him. His fractured wings stretched wide, trembling with unspent rage.
Allen stepped beside him, not speaking—but the chaos in his eyes spoke louder than words. The Sigil around his eyelids twisted. The fragmented emotions within him flared—shame, fury, grief. They danced like broken fireflies in the storm.
"He was right there…" Allen whispered. "And we couldn't—"
> "He's not the last," G said quietly, still behind them, his voice cold and sharp now.
Luck gritted his teeth and screamed as he forced probability to twist again—trying to change fate retroactively, but it was too late. The threads refused him.
"Come on—COME ON!"
Risan lowered his head. His reflections rippled around him—but none of them smiled.
Even Myrwol paused, just for a second.
Not out of mercy.
Out of boredom.
"Still clinging to this fantasy of resistance?"
He raised his hand.
A shadow bloomed behind him—his aura, now unrestrained. Monstrous. Cosmic. Ancient. The battlefield groaned under the pressure.
Even Kael's Sigil flickered.
"Fine," Myrwol said. "No more games."
He pointed two fingers forward.
The air began to crack—literal fractures in the sky above them. Lightning arced between tears in the world, charged with his malice.
Kael's wings began to splinter from the pressure.
Allen dropped to one knee, blood trailing from his eye.
Luck collapsed, coughing violently.
And still—Myrwol hadn't even moved.
"Let's end this."
He stepped forward.
One pace.
Two.
Risan's reflections shattered all at once as he gritted his teeth and raised his Sigil to full power—preparing for a suicide strike if he had to.
Then—
Myrwol vanished.
Not through speed. Not through stealth.
Just vanished, leaving only silence.
The battlefield… held its breath.
But Kael's instincts screamed—he hadn't gone far.
He was circling.
Playing with them now. Like prey.
"Don't separate," Kael said, voice trembling but firm.
Allen forced himself up, one eye closed, Sigil burning weakly.
"We need… a plan."
They had no time for plans.
Myrwol reappeared directly in front of Luck—his claws already raised.
Myrwol's claws cut through the air with the speed of judgment itself—aimed directly at Luck's exposed chest.
Luck barely managed to flinch.
"No—"
A flash of wind.
A body slammed into Myrwol's side—Kael.
His fractured wings flared, wind exploding outward in chaotic spirals. Myrwol was forced half a step back, not from power—but persistence. Kael didn't stop to breathe—he swung, his wind-forged blade slicing toward Myrwol's neck.
It met flesh.
But didn't cut through.
The monster smirked.
"Brave."
Kael was knocked aside by a savage backhand—ribs cracked audibly, and his body tumbled across the broken earth like a ragdoll.
Before Myrwol could follow through—
G appeared in a flash of silence.
His radiant aura formed a shield of gleaming energy in front of Luck. It shimmered like sunlight on still water.
Myrwol's claws struck.
The shield held—for half a second.
Then it shattered like glass.
G stumbled backward, blood pouring from his mouth as he slammed into the ground—but he was still breathing.
Then a shadow leapt overhead—V.
He came down like a falling meteor, his Sigil glowing with a raw, unstable light. He drove a blade of condensed force into Myrwol's back.
A grunt.
A twitch.
A single flick of Myrwol's shoulder—and V was thrown like a broken doll across the field, coughing blood but alive.
Three had intervened.
Three were broken.
But Luck still lived.
He blinked—shaking, eyes wide, body frozen.
"Why… why would you…"
Kael staggered upright, blood soaking his side.
His eyes met Luck's.
"Because you're not done yet."
G lifted himself to his knees, panting, his usual calm replaced with tight pain.
"We're not losing anyone else today."
V was laughing through the blood in his mouth as he pulled himself back up.
"Stupid... heroic nonsense."
Myrwol's expression soured.
"Still crawling?" he muttered. "Fine. Let's try again."
He raised his hand once more. Dark energy swirled at his fingertips.
The group was on their last legs.
Kael braced himself. G closed his eyes. V growled low in his throat.
The next strike was coming.
And they had nothing left to stop it.
The world seemed to still.
Myrwol's hand was raised, his energy gathered, death looming above the wounded.
Then—
"That's enough."
The voice wasn't loud.
It didn't need to be.
It resonated through the battlefield, soft yet absolute, calm yet commanding.
It carried age. Power. Truth.
Everyone froze.
Even Myrwol.
He turned slowly, eyes narrowing. "…One of mine?" he muttered. He felt it—the power in that voice was familiar. A thread of the same ancient origin that lived in his blood.
A smirk curled his lips.
"So… you're finally here."
Silence answered for a heartbeat.
Then—
"I never realized how arrogant I was in my younger days."
The statement was almost… amused. Self-reflective. But it struck Myrwol like a cold breeze through fire.
He blinked. His brow twitched.
"What is this insanity you keep mentioning. No matter, I'll shall forgive your hubris if you follow my command."
No one could see the speaker yet. Just the voice. Just the presence. A weight in the air even heavier than Myrwol's.
Myrwol sneered.
"Kill them. Now."
There was a pause.
And then the voice responded, laced with weary boredom:
"You're annoying."
A pulse of power. Not bright, not thunderous—just a quiet drop in an ocean that shifted the world.
Myrwol's aura collapsed like a punctured lung.
He stumbled, gasping, clutching his throat. His claws scraped across the stone as he dropped to one knee.
Everyone stared.
Even the wounded—Kael, G, V—felt the change in the battlefield.
"You're not real," the voice continued. "You're just a shadow of who I once was. An echo carved from my fear… and my pride."
Myrwol roared, surging up with wild fury—throwing his full power toward the unseen speaker.
But the moment he moved—
A figure stepped forward from nothingness.
One hand raised.
No visible effort.
Myrwol exploded.
Not in blood—not in flesh. But in concept.
He was unmade, scattered like smoke in the wind.
The battlefield fell silent again.
Kael, still breathing raggedly, stared at the figure.
The man stood at the center now. Calm. Clean. Barefoot, robed in black that shimmered like the night sky.
His eyes glowed faintly—silver and gold. And he looked at them not with judgment…
…but familiarity.
"So this is how I used to be when i was afraid of losing…"