Kealix could see it clearly now—so clearly it made his breath catch in his throat. Its massive head loomed closer with every passing second, and with each inch it gained, the details sharpened like a blade at his neck. Its eyes were void-black, deep enough to drown in, but at their core shimmered that brilliant blue—glowing faintly, like a dying star still burning from the inside.
Beneath its chin, jagged black spikes jutted downward in a rough, crown-like pattern—almost like a beard. Regal and ancient. And its teeth—Gods, its teeth—were titanic. The smallest he could make out was the size of a full-grown man. The closer the beast came, the more it filled the world. There was no sky behind it. No light. Only the beast.
Kealix couldn't move.
He didn't even dare to breathe.
Any twitch, any motion now—he knew it—could be taken as defiance. As a challenge. Or worse: an invitation. So he stayed still, heart pounding so hard he could feel the pulse in his tongue. Waiting. Waiting for the jaws to close. Waiting to be devoured like the wolf before him.
But he wasn't.
The wyvern stopped just five meters from where he lay, and simply… looked at him.
Its head tilted slightly, as if curious. Not like a hunter—no, something else. Evaluating. Studying. Was it sniffing him to gauge his flavor? Assessing his threat level? His worth?
Kealix didn't know. He couldn't think—not clearly. Not with this thing so close. His thoughts were fragmented, scattered like ash in a storm. Every survival instinct screamed at him to flee, but his limbs were stone. Even the faintest twitch eluded him.
And yet—there was something strange.
Something different.
This wyvern... it didn't feel like the wolf.
The wolf had been terror made flesh—an avatar of death, a force of pure pressure that bent the world around it. Its presence alone had nearly crushed his lungs. But this creature... this one was calm. Controlled. Silent, yes—but not indifferent. It wasn't suffocating him with its will. In fact, the absence of that crushing pressure was the most terrifying part of all.
It didn't need to dominate the battlefield.
It was the battlefield.
Every movement it made shook the ground. Its wings dragged through rubble like vast curtains of destruction, leveling what little remained of the broken homes nearby. Its tail swept across the ruins, casually reducing walls and memories into dust—doing more damage in moments than the wolf had in its entire rampage.
But none of it mattered.
Everyone had been evacuated. There was no one left to mourn.
The sunlight now streamed through the broken dome above—what remained of the barrier that once trapped them. Golden rays pierced the sky like spears from the heavens, painting Kealix in soft, radiant light. But above it all—beyond the sunlight—the fracture still remained. That crack in the sky, it hadn't faded.
Why?
Were the dome and the fracture not part of the same system? Were they separate? Did it even matter now?
Kealix tried to dismiss the thought, but he couldn't.
Because it wasn't just a question. It was all he had. A final thread of distraction to pull his mind away from what he was sure would be his last moments.
He lowered his head, bracing.
But the end never came.
Instead, the wyvern moved. Its head shifted away from him, turning slowly. The great body followed—muscles rippling beneath scaled armor, wings dragging behind. It stepped over Kealix's still form like he was nothing but a rock on the path. One of its hind legs brushed dangerously close, sending a tremor through the earth. Its tail passed above him like a dark sky falling.
Then, it stopped.
Its massive head lowered again—this time behind Kealix. A gust of hot air hit his back. He could feel its breath on his skin, warm and heavy, like a storm that hadn't broken yet.
The wyvern sniffed him.
It lingered there, unmoving. Watching. Waiting.
Then, it pulled back.
Its head rose once more, and it began to circle him—slow and deliberate steps that sent shockwaves through the ground. Its claws dug deep into the soil. As it passed by the severed wolf's head, it casually kicked it aside like it was garbage. Kealix flinched instinctively, watching the grotesque remains tumble into the dust.
The wyvern stopped again. Its eyes locked onto him.
For a heartbeat, the world stilled.
Then, it moved on.
Just like that.
It spared him.
Kealix blinked. Disbelief clouded his mind. Why? Why spare him? He wasn't worth saving. He wasn't even worth eating? That made no sense. The beast had already burned more calories just observing him than it would have gained from devouring him whole.
So what was this?
Why was he still alive?
The wyvern didn't answer. It had already moved off—toward another part of the battlefield.
Toward Nox.
Kealix's blood ran cold.
No. No, no, no—don't let that happen. Not him. Eat me, not him.
Panic surged through his veins. He tried to move—forced every nerve, every tendon—but nothing responded. Was it fear? Was he injured? He didn't know. He didn't care. All that mattered was the figure at the wyvern's next destination. The last place he'd seen Nox. His friend.
And Kealix… could do nothing.
He was powerless. Utterly and completely powerless.
Tears welled in his eye—his one remaining eye—and spilled freely down his cheek. He didn't blink. Didn't breathe. Just stared.
Stared and watched.
And waited for the wyvern's next move.
Kealix waited.
And waited.
And waited.
Time stretched, warped, until it felt like an eternity had passed. But still… the wyvern didn't come closer than five meters. It lingered, always just out of reach—as if bound by some invisible line it dared not cross.
What is it doing? Kealix thought, anxiety tightening his chest.
Cold sweat slid down his back, each droplet chilling him to the bone. He couldn't tell if it was fear, exhaustion, or something far more primal, but every second dragged like a blade across skin.
Then, without warning, the wyvern moved again.
It turned, slow and deliberate, and walked away—toward where Joshua had fallen.
Kealix's breath caught.
He strained his neck, panic rising again, but all he could do was watch helplessly. The wyvern stopped beside Joshua and repeated the same process it had done to him: slow circles, heavy breaths, long moments of silent observation. It didn't touch him. Didn't attack.
Just watched.
Then it moved again.
This time toward Alora.
Kealix blinked, the tears that had clung stubbornly to his eye now drying up. A flicker of realization crossed his mind—cautious, hesitant.
It's not eating them…
It's not attacking at all.
It's observing us.
Why? For what purpose? Was it searching for something? Judging? Cataloguing? Could it really be that intelligent?
As he watched, he noticed something else—something that hadn't registered before. His friends weren't dead. They hadn't even moved. They were unconscious, yes, likely overwhelmed by the crushing pressure the wolf had exerted. But they were alive.
One by one, the wyvern approached each of them.
Alora.
Lucius.
And each time, the same ritual played out—slow, quiet evaluation, like a god examining fragile mortals. Never attacking. Never devouring. Just… witnessing.
When it finished with Lucius, the last of them, the wyvern lifted its titanic head.
Its gaze shifted—away from the younglings, away from the battlefield—and turned toward the sky.
Toward the fracture.
That yawning tear in the heavens, still glowing faintly inside the broken dome. The last piece of this waking nightmare.
It stared at the wound in the world for a long moment, unmoving.
And then… it turned its gaze back down.
Its eyes passed over the unconscious warriors one last time—Kealix included—and there was something in that look. Not hunger. Not malice. But something… else.
And then, it moved.
It stepped toward the fracture. Toward the tear in the sky. Its massive wings extended once, brushing dust into the air like a storm front.
And just like that—it was gone.
Swallowed whole by the lightless rift in the sky.
Kealix's eyes widened.
They're alive... All of them...
Somehow—against all odds—they had survived.
The wyvern, that overwhelming, demonic being, had spared them.
No... protected them.
That wasn't mercy. It hadn't pitied them—it had chosen to let them live. For what reason, Kealix didn't know. He doubted anyone would ever truly understand.
And yet, despite the exhaustion, despite the fear still clinging to his muscles, Kealix felt something he hadn't dared to feel in hours:
Relief.
A great weight lifted from his chest, like a hundred pounds of solid steel had been peeled away. His limbs trembled, not with fear anymore, but with the aftershocks of survival. He let his head fall back, lying flat against the rubble. The broken sky above looked almost beautiful now.
His thoughts began to stir.
What was that creature? Where did it come from?
How could it be so powerful? Why didn't Hero—or any of the other cards—say anything?
Question after question bloomed in his mind like fireflies in a dark field, too many to hold at once. He closed his eyes just to stop the spinning.
But when he opened them again—
He froze.
Bright, almost invisible letters had appeared in front of him.
Floating.
Glowing.
His eye widened in disbelief.
What now?
He stared at the text as it began to form, clear as crystal in the air before him:
[You truly are miraculous, Kealix.]
[You have survived this fracture.]
[You have accomplished 2 marvelous achievements:]
[You have defeated: Fenrir, Wolf of the End.]
[You have witnessed: Abbynerr, Vessel of the Fallen Trueborn, a Seraphim-class entity—and lived to tell the tale.]
Kealix's jaw slackened.
Witnessed… what? Seraphim-class?
Lived to tell the tale? What the hell does that even mean?
But the text didn't wait for his thoughts to catch up.
[Assessing total achievements…]
[Assessment complete.]
[You will be rewarded with a DIVINITY for your accomplishments.]
His heart stopped.
A... what?
What is a divinity?
What is this text?
Panic bubbled up from deep within him, a cold sweat forming anew. Before he could think further, the message changed again.
[ERROR.]
[Lineage incompatible with Divinity.]
And just like that, the bottom dropped out of his world.
A chill raced down his spine, colder than anything he'd felt before—not even the wolf had made him feel this kind of dread. He didn't know what a "lineage" was. He didn't know what a "divinity" entailed. But something deep in his gut—instinctive and fearfull—told him this was bad.
Very bad.
What?!
Why? Why wasn't he compatible? What did that mean for him? For the others?
But the screen didn't answer. It just flickered.
And Kealix was left lying in the rubble.
Alone.
Confused.
Alive.
But with more questions now than when the wyvern had arrived.