The sky after the battle was red like an open wound.
Eobard carefully supported Willin — the boy's body still trembling, blood seeping through the bandages. The two of them staggered through the hallway of the hunters' inn, dim lamps casting reflections on dried streaks of blood across the floor.
Holland walked behind them, still trying to keep a smile on his face even though he was covered in dirt and ashes.
-"Is he going to be alright?" Holland asked, his voice hoarse.
-"Better than I expected. This kid's tough," Eobard replied, lowering Willin gently onto the bed.
The inn was silent except for their heavy breathing. From the lower floor, a group of students came up the stairs, freezing when they saw the scene.
"Hey… isn't that Holland — vice-captain of Squad 21?"
-"And that guy over there, the one who's badly injured… who is he?"
One student stepped forward, curiosity and admiration flickering in his eyes.
"Hey, who are you?" he asked, looking at Willin, who was still struggling to catch his breath.
Willin raised his head, his voice low and rough.
-"Uhhh… I'm Willin. Holland's younger brother."
The air froze. The students stared at each other in disbelief.
-"No way… Holland's brother?"
-"The one who single-handedly took down the Ghost beast in the Southern Frontline?!"
Holland let out a soft chuckle and leaned back in his chair.
-"Don't make it sound like a big deal. I almost died there."
Eobard said nothing, his face still wearing that sleepy expression, chin resting on his hand.
-"You're all too noisy… let me nap for a bit," he yawned, lazily propping his feet up on the table.
Willin's gaze drifted to a cracked mirror. For a heartbeat, he saw himself back in the fight — blood, screams, his own trembling hands, and the people he couldn't save.
-"Brother…" Willin whispered, his voice almost breaking.
"Holland, if I'd been stronger back then…"
Holland put a hand on Willin's shoulder, squeezing it gently.
-"Stop blaming yourself. Every battle has its casualties. What matters is that you're still here."
-"But if Eobard hadn't arrived in time—"
-"Then I'd have died in your place," Eobard interrupted, his voice still lazy.
-"Don't forget I still have a debt to repay to Holland — your brother."
They all laughed, but it was a weary laugh, soaked with blood and tears.
A fleeting moment of peace, in a world ruled by fear.
Willin stared out the window, where the evening light fell across the rooftops in the distance.
He murmured to himself:
- "A hero's journey, huh… Maybe it's not as beautiful as the stories say. I wonder what that kid Shun is doing right now… probably at home with Grandpa Thomas."
A faint, tired smile tugged at his lips.
CLANG!!!
A deafening crash split the air — the shockwave rippled through the ruined city like thunder.
Crook shot forward like a cannon shell, his fist slicing the air before slamming full-force into Araki's torso.
The impact was monstrous — the ground cracked open beneath them, wind howled into violent spirals, dust and debris bursting outward in a storm of chaos.
Araki's eyes widened just slightly — a flicker of steel glinting in his pupils.
Crook burst into manic laughter, convinced he'd won.
— "HA! How's that, huh?! You can't—"
BOOOOM!!!
Behind Araki, an entire block split clean in half from the backlash of the blow.
Smoke and shattered stone billowed into the sky, the gust strong enough to rip metal signs off their hinges.
But in the heart of the destruction… Araki still stood firm.
Not a single step back.
His hand still gripped Crook's massive battle axe — holding it effortlessly, as if it were nothing more than a child's toy.
Crook froze. His eyes widened in disbelief, lips trembling.
— "N–No way… How the hell can you…?!"
He roared, desperation twisting his face, veins bulging across his neck.
Gathering every last drop of his Gil, Crook drove his left fist straight into Araki's stomach — a killing blow meant to crush steel.
DOOOM!!!
Smoke burst from the impact point.
The ground exploded beneath them, shockwaves rattling the entire district. Windows shattered, walls collapsed, and thunder rolled through Gustavo's skies.
And yet—
Araki did. not. move.
His expression didn't change. No pain. No anger.
Only that eerie, calm silence — the silence of something far beyond human.
Then—
SHRRRIP!!!
Crook's right arm — the one that struck him — was torn apart.
Blood erupted into the air in a violent crimson spray.
— "AAAAAAAAAARGHHHHHHHHHHH!!!"
The scream pierced through the wreckage, echoing across Gustavo, bouncing off the shattered walls and through the terrified hearts of those hiding below.
Crook collapsed to his knees, clutching at the gushing wound, gasping and shaking uncontrollably.
And before him… Araki stood motionless.
His eyes glimmered faintly beneath the dust and wind — not the eyes of a warrior…
…but the cold, unshakable gaze of a judge delivering a death sentence.
Araki let out a disappointed sigh.
— "Tch… I thought you could at least last two seconds standing next to me. You really let me down."
His voice was calm — too calm — carrying more disdain than anger.
He tossed Crook's giant axe back toward him. The weapon crashed into the ground at Crook's feet, sending out a small shockwave.
Crook's eyes widened in surprise.
— "If you can use your full power with that weapon," Araki said coldly, "then do it."
Crook didn't hesitate. He gritted his teeth, grabbed the axe's handle, and let his energy surge.
Crimson Gil exploded from his body like a storm of fire and blood. The ground cracked beneath him; the air screamed.
SWOOSH!!!
Faster than light — faster than thought — Crook vanished.
In the blink of an eye, he appeared right in front of Araki, axe raised high.
The blade came down in a blazing arc.
A crimson pillar of Gil erupted skyward, tearing through the clouds above Gustavo — painting the heavens in blood-red light.
— "Hurry up, Bruno! They're gaining on us! We need to reach Willin and… figure out what the hell those three crimson pillars shooting into the sky are!"
Drake's voice was sharp and urgent as he and Bruno sprinted across the rooftops. Each landing sent clattering echoes through the narrow streets below.
Behind them, one of the pursuers leapt forward and hurled a poisoned dagger straight at Bruno.
In a split second—
CLANG!
Drake swung his shield back, deflecting the blade with a burst of sparks.
Without missing a beat, he spun around, kicked the attacker square in the chest, and sent the man crashing down onto the street below.
"Go!" he barked, launching himself forward again, boots scraping tile as he caught up to Bruno.
The last pursuer didn't even look back at his fallen ally.
He leapt from roof to roof, eyes locked on the two hunters fleeing ahead — his only goal now: run them down before they reached Willin.
The smoke slowly cleared — the entire district had become nothing more than a wasteland.
The ground was cracked like a spiderweb, chunks of concrete scattered everywhere, and faint fires burned inside the glowing red fissures.
At the center of the blast, Crook was gone.
All that remained was dust and heat, fading away into the wind — he had self-destructed, consumed by the very Gil he forced beyond its limit.
A single set of footsteps echoed through the ruins.
Clack.
Clack.
Through the haze of ash, Araki emerged — his body coated in dust, his eyes cold as steel.
He brushed the soot off his shoulder and exhaled, his voice calm and low:
— "I thought you could at least pierce my skin…"
His words carried through the silence like a quiet eulogy — half pity, half mockery — for the man who destroyed himself.
Araki crouched down, picked up Crook's axe, the weapon now cracked and charred by heat.
He turned it once in his hand, then —
WHOOSH!
With a single throw, the axe spun violently, slicing through the air like thunder before soaring straight into the darkening sky, tearing through the clouds above.
Lightning flashed in the distance — its reflection glimmering across Araki's expressionless face.
He looked up, eyes glinting with a faint trace of disappointment and weariness.
— "How dull… There's no one left in this age worth drawing my blade for."
The wind swept through, carrying the scent of ash and burnt earth.
Araki turned away, walking off — leaving behind a silent battlefield, empty and cold, echoing with the ghost of war.
The smoke hadn't cleared yet.
Araki calmly walked toward a collapsed wall, crouched down, and lifted a massive slab of concrete with one hand as if it weighed nothing.
His eyes scanned through the rubble, searching for something.
-"…Where's the archer's body?" he muttered, his tone quiet but tinged with irritation.
A brief silence.
-"Sigh… Don't tell me he faked his death to run away." Araki exhaled and scratched the back of his head.
At that moment, the sound of hurried footsteps echoed from the far end of the ruined street.
Araki tilted his head slightly, hearing the labored breathing and the clatter of weapons.
Four people… approaching fast.
Before he could react, a shout rang out—
-"Hey, you! Get out of the way!!!"
Araki raised an eyebrow.
Through the thick smoke, two figures sprinted toward him, with two others in black uniforms chasing right behind — bounty hunters from Crook's faction.
One glance at the insignia on their shoulders, and Araki immediately recognized it.
-"…Crook's men."
The pursuers halted, glaring at him.
Meanwhile, the two being chased — Drake and Bruno — shouted in panic, their breaths ragged:
-"Hurry, Bruno! We're dead if they catch us!"
-"Move, man! Get out of the way!!"
Araki didn't move. He simply shifted his stance slightly, letting the two fugitives rush past him.
His eyes remained locked on the approaching hunters.
-"You two… you're with Crook, aren't you?"
One of them froze, sneering.
-"So the pig's dead, huh? You killed him?"
Araki's tone stayed calm — chillingly calm.
-"No. He blew himself up. I didn't have to lift a finger."
The two exchanged glances. Then one of them smiled faintly.
-"So… the plan worked."
The other nodded, his voice almost a whisper.
-"Mission complete."
Araki frowned.
-"Huh? Mission? What mission—"
Crack…!
A strange sound split the air.
The bodies of the two hunters began to fracture — thin cracks spreading across their skin like shattered glass.
A red light seeped from within — and then—
SHATTER!
Both of them exploded into thousands of glimmering shards, scattering through the air like fragments of a broken mirror, before fading into nothingness.
Araki stood still, his gaze narrowing slightly.
The wind swept through the ruins, carrying away the last traces of smoke and dust.
-"…What the hell just happened?" he muttered under his breath, his tone low and uncertain.
From deep within the damp underground sewers, the flickering light of broken lamps reflected off splattered streaks of blood.
Footsteps echoed — hurried yet silent — carrying a weight sharp enough to carve through the veins of the darkness itself.
The assassin girl — silver hair dusted with grime, crimson eyes as cold as winter steel — dragged the unconscious Miliana over her shoulder. As she turned a corner, two shadows emerged from the fog.
- "Crook's dead, isn't he?"
Her voice dripped with contempt, a sly smile curling at her lips. "That pig never could do anything right."
One of the men — a rough-looking brute with a scar running down his neck — flicked his cigarette onto the wet stone, his voice gravelly:
- "Where the hell did those Hard-Wirrt Academy brats come from? If it weren't for that bastard Araki, Bruno and Drake would've been corpses floating in the ditch by now."
The taller man beside him, his tone deeper and more chilling, muttered:
- "Going against Araki right now would be suicide. He slaughtered three of the Emperor's divine guards. No one survives once they step into his blade's reach."
The girl chuckled softly, the sound of her heels echoing across the tiles.
- "That's exactly why... we wait. We wait for the Emperor's return."
- "Indeed," the scarred man hissed like a snake. "Once His Majesty awakens... not only Araki, but that damned Headmaster and the entire Hard-Wirrt Academy will be erased from this world."
The three of them approached a massive iron door. It opened on its own, revealing a chamber reeking of blood and chemicals. In the center stood a milky-white tank exuding a dense, icy mist.
The assassin gently laid Miliana upon a stone floor engraved with a golden dragon sigil.
From within the pale liquid, a single strip of frost loosened and fell, striking the ground with a sharp cling. Beneath the shroud of white paper wrapping, a pair of violet eyes slowly opened — deep, cold, and heavy enough to make the entire room tremble.
All three instantly dropped to their knees, their voices trembling:
- "We have... completed the mission, my Lord.
Miliana Doraves... has been captured."
A breath echoed through the mist — long, steady, and terrifyingly calm.
The violet eyes blinked once, and a low voice spilled from the figure's mouth, freezing the air around them.
- "...Araki.
He's still alive?"
The liquid began to boil, the walls quivering violently.
Above the tank, the white sheets started to dissolve into mist...
-"Prepare yourselves," the voice commanded, resonating like thunder.
"The ceremony of resurrection... begins now."