Flashback :
"King — they have arrived!"
The message hit the throne room like an alarm. Servants scurried; torches guttered in their sconces as if the whole hall inhaled. Outside, the thunder of war drums seemed to roll closer. King Rui rose from his seat, eyes sharp despite the late hour.
"How many?" he asked, voice even.
"All of them. Except him," the messenger replied, breathless.
"So he wanted to stay," Rui said slowly.
The messenger bowed. "Well… yes, my lord. He sent a letter."
Rui steepled his fingers. "What does it say?"
The attendant's face went pale. "W… well, my lord… I… I can't read it."
"Why so?" Rui asked, amusement already shading his tone.
"It… contains inappropriate words for… for you, my king," the messenger stammered.
Rui chuckled. The sound was light, but it carried iron beneath it. "If that's the case, give it to me. I will read it myself."
"B-but my lord—"
"You have anything against that?" Rui's smile sharpened.
"N… no, my lord. I do not," the man squeaked.
Rui took the letter with one smooth, careless motion and slit it open. The parchment smelled faintly of smoke and iron. He read aloud, at first calmly, then letting a cruel grin take him.
In the battlefield, the scene unspooled like a nightmare. A lone man stood amid a sea of corpses; soldiers fell back as if the air itself repelled them. The enemy, once bold and countless, fled—not to attack, but from him. Fear painted their faces raw and wide. A thousand men feared one.
Rui's chuckle fell into a roar as he read one line and could not resist: "Hey you, Rui you fuckin bitch— I'm here killing your fucking enemies." The messenger reeled as if the words had thrown physical weight into the room. "He grabs a soldier and tears his head with his own hands," Rui read on, and a ripple of gasps filled the hall.
Rui's own voice grew devilish. He read aloud with mock affection, "So you better send some women to my room, or I will come into your room — haha, you know what I mean."
The ministers' faces shifted from shock to crimson. Murmurs rustled through the chamber like dry leaves. Rui set the letter down with sudden dignity and fixed the room with a slow, dangerous stare.
"I am not a bitch," he said very softly, almost to himself. Then louder: "Ministers, tell me one thing."
"What, my lord?" came the chorus of trembling voices.
"Tell me," Rui said, looking up as if at the ceiling, at the sky itself, "am I a bitch?"
"No—no, not at all!" one minister blurted, too eager, his lips quivering. "Who in their sane minds would call our great King Rui that?"
Rui's smile widened. "Good. And what shall be the punishment for such an offence?"
"Cut his head off!" one minister called Franklin barked, as if his throat had turned to steel.
The room tensed; no one else offered counsel. All eyes darted to Rui.
A slender minister, younger than the rest, rose suddenly. "I… I have something to propose!" he stammered. Fear tightened his limbs but his voice clanged forth.
Rui peered at him. "Your name?"
"Caesar," the boy said, chest heaving. "I'm sixteen. I'm the son of Atlas the Beast."
Rui's eyes tucked in, amused. "Caesar, son of Atlas. Good name. Speak."
Caesar swallowed and blurted, with a shocking audacity, "My proposal would be to cut his private part!"
The chamber held its breath. Faces went white. Even the guards behind Rui began to sweat. A minister whispered, "We are going to die."
Rui leaned back and laughed — a sound that shook his ribs and startled the senior ministers. He laughed until he clutched his belly, until tears of mirth shone at the corners of his eyes. "He is right," Rui gasped between his laughter and sudden composure. "I should cut his private—" He barked another laugh and then, with a flicker of theatricality, ordered his guards: "Bring it."
Panic clawed at the ministers. What instrument is he going to use to kill us? Guards rolled forward a long, wide steel plate on a cart. Curtains were hooked aside. Ministers trembled so badly their knees threatened to buckle.
When the curtains fell, the plate was not a guillotine but a treasure trove. Jewels, diamonds, gold and silver gleamed in a riot of light. Rui's grin became a sunburst. "Take this," he said, voice honey-slick, "it's all yours. I won't hear no for an answer. Go — and the ministers are dismissed."
The hall erupted in confusion. Men shuffled out, wallets and dignity intact, minds spinning. Caesar stared at the bounty, disbelieving. Rui settled on the stairway instead of his throne, chuckling to himself like a child who'd opened a forbidden chest.
"Cut his private part," he murmured under his breath, and then louder to Lucas — "What would you say?"
---
On the battlefield the atmosphere was as raw as the throne room was ridiculous. Corpses lay stacked like poor rotten harvest. In the motionless gloom, a lone man — Lucas? — stood with a weary calm that made the ground seem quieter.
"Why is my penis hurting?" he muttered with a strange mix of irony and fatigue, to a friend who had run toward him.
"Kazuma!" a soldier called, breathless. "We have to go!"
"What are you doing here?" Kazuma snapped, half laughing. "I just came—"
"I found my sword!" Lucas shouted, triumphant. "Yeeeah! Now we can go."
Lightning sliced the air, and in the blink that followed, Lucas vanished.
The empty space where he had stood hummed, like a chord missing its root. Kazuma swore, exasperated and exultant both. "He always does this," he spat. "Lucas Campo — the hand of the sword, the sword who protects the three nations."
In the Present:-
Waren's confidence cracked the night. He smirked and blurted, terrified by a dawning realization, "I knew it — you are son of Lucas the devil."
A heavy hand slammed across Waren's jaw. Nicolas's voice was low and lethal. "Shut up and—" he smashed Waren down onto the packed earth.
Bones cracked like dry twigs. Waren kicked Nicolas away in fury and growled, "I don't care anymore. Even if it kills me, I will kill you too." He intoned the words: Command—"Aetherin Seal."
The syllables dropped into the night like ice. Nicolas's heart thudded. Blood seeped from his mouth; he faltered to the ground, reeling. But Nicolas forced his knees up. His lips curved into a wide, white smile through the blood: "Even if it kills me—" his voice rang hollow then filled with steel — "we fight."
Fists met in one violence-torn instant. The shockwave rolled like thunder across the cave; Yushi, still inside the blinding light, felt the tremor as if it had been sent through bone.
Waren staggered, coughed blood, but smiled with confidence like a man at the crest of a wave. He thought himself master here. He had learned the cave's whispers; he had bent its currents. "You fools," he spat, raising a hand to strike Nicolas again.
But as he moved, a red line blossomed across Nicolas's face. He gripped his stomach and stumbled as if the cave itself had thrown knives at him. From front, from left, from right — invisible blows shredded him until he collapsed hard to the earth.
Waren coughed, a wet, raw sound, but triumph lined his voice. He laughed and the sound rolled through the stone like a curse. "Did you forget? I control this cave. You can't do shit. Since you first came here I learned how to harness my powers. I will not be beaten here." His laughter grew, echoing in every crack and hollow. Kage watched in horror as Nicolas lay motionless, then Waren struck again, and one by one Kage, Weller — all of them — crumpled like straw.
Waren's grin melted into something crueler. He looked down at the heap of fallen friends and enemies alike. "Now," he said, voice low and certain, "I will kill you all. Not by cutting heads, not by mere death — I will burn you. Burn you forever."
The cavern hummed with his promise, heatless but absolute, as if the word itself could scorch. Flames did not need to lick the air — the image of eternal burning hung like a brand over every fallen body.
What will they do now? Is there any chance left — or will the cave be the grave that swallows their vows and leaves only ash?