The entire planet buzzed with chaos. Contestants were split—some trembling, some fleeing, others itching for battle. Confusion choked the air.
Then Atama's voice rang across everyone's minds, broadcast via the telepathic device in his pocket:
"Yeah, listen up, you bozos! According to some blah blah cosmic rule I can't remember—you're required to defend this damn rock if you wanna qualify for Terra. Yeah, that Terra. I know it sucks, but this is the first and maybe final selection round, so suck it up. Fight… or get lost."
Screams of annoyance burst across the terrain. A few ran. Most didn't.
Because the Eclipsed Guardians had already begun moving.
Seko didn't wait.
He lunged toward the First General, sword igniting with intent. But before his blade could taste divine metal, a rider blocked his path.
A knight—silent and cloaked in dread.
He sat atop a black horse. A ghostly beast that floated without wings, trailing Negative-Dark energy like smoke. He gripped a polearm-mace with quiet death in his grasp.
Seko halted, raising his Composite Sword. "You use Negative energy, don't you?" he asked.
No response.
"You don't have a soul?… No—wait. You do." His gaze sharpened.
The knight's horse suddenly charged—blindingly fast, almost like that damned speedster. Seko barely deflected the polearm-mace, twisting mid-air and dodging the blow in the same motion.
The knight finally muttered to himself:
"Above-average battle intelligence… Evades despite vampiric regeneration. Instinctive type."
Seko turned his head, slightly smug. "You know I can change my tactics, right?"
The knight paused, then added flatly:
"Adaptive. Low intelligence. Shares his weakness."
That one stung.
Seko's brow twitched. "Yeah? Well—shut up, you ugly-ass—!"
He didn't finish. Instead, he lunged forward mid-insult, unleashing his Composite Sword in a semi-circular swipe. Blade segments arced in a deadly formation—then he spun faster, forming a protective dome.
Clang!
The knight's polearm-mace got lodged between the shifting fragments.
"Gotcha," Seko smirked, giving just enough hint that he'd pull the knight in close. As predicted, the knight released his weapon to avoid the trap—and countered with a physical strike.
But Seko was ready.
As the knight ascended to dodge, Seko's detached vampiric arm was already above him—its fingers twitching midair.
THWIP!The sharp nails latched onto the knight's shoulder.
Seko reached out mentally, trying to extract his blood.
"…Huh?" he muttered. "No blood?"
The knight, unbothered, reclaimed his weapon and swung.
But Seko's vampiric arm didn't stop—still obeying his blood control. It shot its claws forward—digging straight into the knight's eyes.
"AAARGH!!"
The knight screamed, rearing back. Seko flipped, retreating mid-air as his detached arm zipped back and reattached.
Within seconds, he was whole again—breathing, healing, but still locked in battle.
The battlefield echoed with a momentary silence—Seko's breathing heavy, the Knight's grip tightening around his polearm-mace, his vision flickering as dark ichor oozed from the punctured socket where Seko's claws had landed. But even in pain, the Knight didn't fall. He staggered, paused, and muttered with a rasped voice:
"Tactical resilience: unexpected… Vampiric blood manipulation—unregistered ability depth."
Seko tilted his head, both impressed and irritated."You're still talking to yourself, you wannabe data logger?" he scoffed, blood dripping from his nails, fangs barely out. "You need to focus, Knighty."
The Knight didn't reply this time. Instead, a pulse of dark matter spiraled from beneath his armor. His damaged eye regenerated partially—not with life, but with magic, necrotic energy weaving back flesh like broken glass mending itself. His horse circled them in mid-air, pacing unnaturally with no hoof sounds, no heartbeat—like a phantom tethered to battle itself.
And just as they prepared for Round 2—an overwhelming, sinister pressure covered the area like a divine weight dropped from the sky.
A blinding red light from the distance.
Violet had unleashed a blossoming red dome of flora, a forest erupting from the ground behind the hill where he fought alongside Raven.
Daisuke's voice crackled through everyone's communicators:
"All of you—be warned… Something is descending near the central crater. An army of ten has been dispatched from Zarakon's left flank. They are not to be taken lightly. I repeat: regroup if needed."
Seko gritted his teeth. The Knight retreated a few steps, then vanished into a rift of mist, perhaps sensing the same tremor.
"Coward," Seko hissed… but deep down, he knew: that Knight wasn't scared of him.He was scared of what was coming.
From above, a single drop of red liquid fell from the eclipsed sky. It hit the forest floor—and the entire terrain beneath them withered in one pulse.
And then—As soon as the red drop fell from the sky and hit the ground—It happened.
Again.
A wave pulsed out—like an echo from the void itself.
Everyone—undead or living, Terra contestants or Sujay's army—collapsed to their knees. Their faces wore that same expression of dilemma and hollowness, just like before the rift had closed.
All except three.
Seko stood.
Atama held firm.
The First General knelt—But not in despair. In loyalty.
"For what may you arrive now, Empty One?" he asked solemnly, his gaze cast downward. "Did you have doubts in me?"
But Sujay didn't even look at him.
He stepped forward.
His eyes locked on Atama, who stood with a calm, serious posture—trying to wear a neutral, kind tone. It almost passed as genuine.
But it wasn't.
"So?" Atama spoke first, his voice honeyed with sarcasm. "You decided to show up to what—kill everyone?"
Sujay didn't answer immediately. He stood silent, unblinking.
Then finally, in a cold, dry tone:
"No. With you here, there'll be less blood and more drama."
Atama scoffed.
"Oh yeah? Says the guy who talks like some cringe 9-year-old. 'Ohhh I'm a Sigma. Look at me! Give me attention!'""Heh. What are you? Short stupid—"
But before he could finish—
Atama froze.
Suddenly the world tilted slightly.
He looked down.
His legs were gone.
Cleanly sliced.
Blood hit the ground half a second later.
"5'7" is average for a Homo sapiens of our era," Sujay said coolly, standing tall. "And you know I turned vampire after that."
Atama rolled his eyes, grabbed his own legs, and slapped them back on. They reattached instantly with a mild grunt of annoyance.
"Yeah, yeah. Whatever, Sigma-boy. I'm not letting you monologue or stay here for long—"
Zarakon stepped forward, eyes alight with killing intent.
"Let me kill this insignificant pest."
But Sujay turned—And glared.
His eyes ignited with deep red—seething, ancient, furious.
The pressure shifted. The air thinned.
Even Atama flinched a little.
Seko coughed harshly behind them, barely able to stand under the weight.
Zarakon?He froze. Terrified. Paralyzed.
Then Sujay spoke—barely restraining his fury:
"I specifically told you not to do a few things.""It's just…" he tried to calm himself "…you know how much I HATE when people do the EXACT THINGS I SAID NOT TO DO—LIKE MULTIPLE—FUCKING—"
He paused. Mutters to himself:
"No cursing. No godda—no cursing…"
Deep breath.
"YEAH! I'm really acting like one of those cringe Sigma kids, aren't I?"
Silence.
No one answered.
Zarakon's soul was practically retreating into itself.Even Atama—who wore perfection like armor—knew better than to provoke this.
Because deep down, he felt it—
This being, Sujay…He was the most imperfect creature capable of opposing perfection itself.
He was loud, cocky, brutally aware of his flaws.He bragged, screamed, demanded attention.
And yet—
He was always more than he pretended to be. But received less than even his minimum.
Atama replies with his serious-calm tone, for the first time he actually seems to be immersed in the act, "Yeah... At least we have something in common.", But Sujay didn't listen to him... Or did he? But he continues to talk to Zarakon who was terrified.
"I am not here to join the fight, It's either you fight and win here, Or give yourself up to The 'Greed', And for God's sake follow the damn plan!"