BOOOOM!
The cocoon collapsed inward, slamming Iza into the stone floor with devastating force. The shockwave cracked the nearby walls, dust mushrooming into the air. Iza coughed violently, blood trickling from his mouth.
"Y…you psycho…"
Reyn didn't respond.
He didn't need to.
The threads whispered for him.
Across the field, Volen was still standing—barely. His chest heaved, armor cracked and sagging. Threads dug into his joints like splinters of magic. His right arm hung limp, the weight of defeat already dragging it down.
Reyn tilted his head slightly, eyes steady.
"You've got spirit."
He flicked a finger.
A single thread around Volen's ankle tightened with a snap. Volen's leg buckled, and he dropped to one knee, gritting his teeth.
Reyn stepped forward—quiet, composed, voice low.
"But this battlefield was never yours."
He raised both arms. Instantly, the threads blanketing the ruins began to pulse—glowing a deep, unnatural crimson. The magic thickened, like a storm before eruption.
"I call this…"
"Dark String Magic: The Final Cut."
A breathless pause.
Then—
SNIKT.
The entire web contracted.
No explosion. No flash.
Just silence—then precision.
Dozens of tiny cuts carved through the air. Hundreds of micro-movements, too fast to see. Volen's armor cracked in a dozen places at once. His blade snapped in half. Thin crimson lines appeared across his body like drawn ink.
Then—he collapsed forward.
Face-first.
Unmoving.
Reyn's eyes stayed focused, fingers twitching.
"Dark String Magic: Absolute Tether Web."
The strings around the field locked into place—anchored not just to stone, but to the air itself. A full-zone formation. An invisible cage of control. A living trap powered by Reyn's magic core.
Captain Iza, still panting, rose to a crouch. His daggers shook in his grip. He spun in place, eyes darting.
Every step he took, he could feel it.
Pull. Tension. Resistance.
"He's caged the whole damn field…"
Across from him, Volen groaned and pushed himself up again. His cracked armor hissed—steam rising as the Steel Drive tried to repair it. A single gauntlet reformed fully, trembling with power.
Volen grunted.
"We go together. You high. I go low."
Iza nodded, spitting blood. "He's just one guy."
They moved in sync—Volen charging like a thunderclap, his broadsword raised. He stomped hard enough to shake the ground.
"RAAAHHH!!"
Above him, Iza used a compressed wind disc under his foot to bounce into the sky. He twisted midair, daggers glowing with piercing wind pressure, forming a spiral strike.
Reyn remained still.
Motionless.
His voice barely a whisper—
"Fall."
Volen's foot landed on a pressure string.
SNAP!
Instantly, the entire courtyard flared to life.
Dozens of strings tore from their anchors—whipping out like blades.
One slashed across Volen's shoulder, slicing the upper plate clean. Another wrapped around his elbow and yanked sideways mid-swing. His attack faltered.
Reyn pulled his fingers again.
Another wire tensed across the ground.
Volen's footing gave out.
His leg folded awkwardly.
CRACK!
His sword spun from his hand, embedding itself in a nearby wall like a gravestone.
________________________________________
Above, Iza descended like a roaring cyclone.
"I'm not stepping anywhere, fool—!"
But his words died in his throat.
He saw Reyn's raised arm.
Then he realized—
He was already caught.
While airborne, tiny threads had latched to his boots, coat, and even his own wind disc. The strings had ridden the wind—silent, surgical.
"No—!"
Reyn gave a sharp tug.
Iza's spin stopped mid-air.
Then he was slammed downward—like a meteor from the sky.
BOOOOOM!
The ground fractured. Stone burst in every direction. A crater formed beneath him.
Silence.
Dust curled around Reyn's figure like a cloak.
Both captains were down. Bound. Breathless.
Alive. But unable to fight.
Reyn, bleeding but composed, lowered his hands. Threads curled back into his fingers, vanishing like fading fireflies.
He turned, slowly, his gaze shifting across the battlefield—until he found Elara, standing amidst her own fallen enemies, equally victorious.
Their eyes met.
No words were needed.
But Reyn spoke anyway.
Calm. Cold. Focused.
"These insects are done."
His gaze shifted to Elara—her battle was over too
"Now only his fight remains."
[Scene: Battle – Imperial vs. General Rhogar]
"Infernal Bloom," General Rhogar declared.
Flaming flowers erupted beneath Imperial's feet—glowing crimson and orange before detonating with an earth-shattering boom. Trees were incinerated in the blast radius, shockwaves rippling out like a sonic quake. Flames devoured bark and leaves alike, smoke rising in thick plumes.
But when the dust cleared—
Imperial stood still.
No burns.
No damage.
Not even a tear in his cloak.
General Rhogar let out a deep chuckle.
"Exactly what I'd expect from someone with Alden blood."
Suddenly—Zzzzt!
Imperial vanished.
A trail of lightning sparks flashed across the ground—so fast, it looked like electricity racing wild.
"Lightning Blade Magic: Twin Edge."
Two arcs of light flared—one to the general's left, the other to his right.
Then, in a blink, Imperial returned to his original position.
"Impressive reflexes, General," Imperial said, a hint of respect in his tone.
In that instant, the earlier flashes resolved in memory—Imperial had struck from both sides, circling with breakneck speed. Yet General Rhogar had blocked both strikes with nothing but his thick staff.
The old warrior smirked.
"Still fast... but not fast enough."
He tapped his cane again—but this time, no teleportation.
Imperial kept his eyes locked, waiting for the move.
Then—teleport.
He reappeared just beside Imperial's sword arm.
"Fire Magic: Infernal Detonation!"
Another explosion, this time point-blank—meant to vaporize.
BOOM!
The impact flared bright and thunderous—but as the smoke thinned, Imperial was still standing.
Only minor burns marked his arms—but even those began healing rapidly, the skin knitting back together as if time reversed.
General Rhogar's eyes widened.
"Incredible… I've never seen regeneration like this. Is this the power of your Ark Magic?"
Imperial gave no answer—only charged again.
CLASH!
Sword met staff. Magic exploded from the collision, splitting the ground, shattering rocks, and flattening what remained of the trees nearby.
"I guess," Imperial muttered, "it's not safe to continue fighting here."
"Agreed," Rhogar replied. "If we go on, this forest will cease to exist."
Suddenly, a black surface formed beneath their feet, like a reflective void.
In the next breath—the world shifted.
________________________________________
Scene Shift: Inside the Dark space
The general found himself in a strange space.
An empty plane of endless shadow. The ground felt real, but in every direction stretched a void. Darkness deeper than night.
Far ahead stood Imperial, his figure illuminated only by faint sparks of lightning pulsing from his blade.
"This realm…" Rhogar muttered. "So this is your domain.
The same place you used to battle the Vice Generals and carry your friends to safety."
Imperial gave no response—only raised his hand.
"Lightning Magic: Thunderous Collision."
From every direction, multiple versions of Imperial appeared—charging in unison. Each swung their blade with deadly precision.
The general planted his staff and unleashed—
"Sound Magic: Echo of Destruction!"
A pulse of sound erupted in a perfect ring, tearing through space.
All clones disintegrated.
Only one remained—and he was struck clean, crashing backward into the black surface.
The real Imperial.
He stood, shaking off the impact.
The general exhaled.
"No more holding back, boy."
He raised both hands.
"Fire Zone."
A massive circle spread beneath them—flames igniting across the dark plane, painting it in burning red. The zone stretched far, reflecting the true scale of Rhogar's magic.
Imperial narrowed his eyes.
"Then I won't hold back either."
"Lightning of Hell!"
Cracks formed on the ground, and jagged bolts of lightning erupted upward like monstrous pillars. As the arcs blinded the field, Imperial rushed forward, using the lightning as a smokescreen.
The general tried to track him—but Imperial moved like a phantom.
"Lightning Magic: Thirty-Six Fold Strike!"
SLASH—SLASH—SLASH!
Thirty-six lightning-infused strikes came down in rapid succession.
But before the last ones landed, the general surrounded himself in a roaring fireball, forming a blazing flame shield.
The attacks hit—but couldn't penetrate.
Then, the flames merged around his staff, transforming it into a flame-forged blade.
"Fire Magic: Solar Crescent!"
He swung.
A massive arc of fire surged toward Imperial.
It hit. Clean.
But—
Imperial's body split in that moment.
A rift of dark smoke and flames peeled his torso apart—but just as the attack passed through, his form reassembled, the split vanishing like a gas reforming.
"That was close," Imperial said, breathing hard. "If I didn't use that, I'd be ashes by now."
The general raised a brow.
"If you'd died… would this realm have collapsed and set me free?"
Imperial shrugged.
"I don't know.
No one has ever defeated me here."
He tightened his grip.
"Lightning Magic: Thunderclap."
ZIP—!!
At the speed of light, Imperial closed the distance in a flash and slashed straight at the general's torso.
But—
Rhogar caught his wrists. With one hand.
"You really are fast, kid… but I've danced with beasts stronger than this."
Imperial struggled—his arms restrained.
The general whispered:
"Let's end this."
"Fire Magic: Infernal Detonation!"
BOOM!