"No, this is impossible."
Aeros crumbled when she saw Marc stand up.
Marc's body was shrouded in his dark, shadowy aura, but this time… it was him… it had become Marc himself. A mass of darkness with eyes like red whirlpools, devouring all light.
His aura no longer helped him move. It moved on its own, devouring Aeros's aura to rejuvenate itself and absorbing all the others.
The mass of darkness slowly rises with the sword of War in hand, like a wooden puppet.
His movements were not fluid, disordered, chaotic as he got up. But the higher he rose, the more precise and deliberate his movements became.
The blood stopped flowing.
On the contrary, it strangely returned to the black mass, pulled back through the wound Aeros had made, as if defying gravity.
The horrifying spectacle burned Aeros's eyes, panic gripping her suddenly…
He had reached this state twice before—once in the church, another during the search for the second book.
A state completely out of control, where Marc was clearly no longer in charge of his own body…
But his aura…
Aeros began thrashing in panic, her face turning as pale as snow, almost melting as she unconsciously drew her sword, desperate to get away.
"NO, this can't be happening!"
Marc slowly turned his face toward her. It was impossible to tell who was stronger without knowing them both intimately. Yet for some reason, it was clear—the winner would be the man with a hole in his body.
"NO, NO, NO, you can't…"
Before she could finish, Aeros took a brutal punch to the face. A punch so violent her body was launched three cities away. The sound echoed like a cannon shot through the city while buildings trembling under the shockwave.
The black mass barely extended its arm to strike the entity, yet she had been thrown so far she disappeared from the horizon. Buildings were pierced by a armored bodie in seconds—and that bodie was already gone.
Three cities away, in Origon, a body slammed into the ground like a meteor, leaving a small crater at the impact site.
The residents panicked, fearing a missile strike or a nuclear charge, hiding behind anything they could find.
Within seconds, Aeros regained consciousness.
Her body smoked but remained intact, only a large bruise marking her swollen right cheek.
She tried to stand but her legs refused, paralyzed by terror. Anguished, she crawled on all fours, trying to distance herself from the monster stalking her.
"This is impossible… why?"
But Marc was already in front of her. It wasn't teleportation—just an unimaginable speed.
Aeros's head shot up, eyes wide with horror, her body frozen.
The black mass had followed her without difficulty, and now her worst nightmare was before her…
If Marc was to know that an entity could be so terrifiedit could no longer move, he would be delighted.
Unfortunately, he was not conscious enough to know.
"NO…"
Marc violently pressed his foot onto her head. Her face sank into the ground ten meters deep, a crater forming where his foot had landed.
A terrifying shockwave finalized the strike, shattering every window in the city.
*
Suddenly, Astra sensed the presence of someone she desperately wanted to avoid.
She turned her head slowly toward the source of the terrifying aura and fixed it to make sure to recognize it.
An unsettling feeling settled in her soul as troubling memories resurfaced.
If she knew one thing, it was that she did not want to see the source of this monstrous aura again.
"How… why is he here?"
A few seconds later, her aura dissipated into the air, and her body vanished with it as she had never been here.
Catastrophes abruptly stopped across the world, vanishing into a bitter wind…
*
"Hmm?"
A young man in a white hoodie with black letters watched from afar. He had felt a highly unpleasant presence.
He gritted his teeth, holding his lollipop.
"He's not supposed to be here. Fine, I'm out."
It was not often that he was impressed, nor even afraid. Yet the presence of this thing was synonymous with fear for all. And even he chose to retreat.
His aura dissipated as well, and the epidemic paused for a moment.
*
And from afar, someone hid behind a wardrobe, trying to escape the monstrous aura that had appeared in this world.
"If he's here… I'd better not show myself."
*
The black mass silently raised its head. The city all around him had completely collapsed. Nothing remained after Aeros's violent defeat. Buildings were just mere ruins left by destruction.
And for the first time in a long time, the sun greeted Marc's face. The radiant star rose above Origon, revealing the devastation left by the Death of War—or rather, the horrific Knight of Zvenne, tasked with destroying everything.
The city had vanished in less than five minutes after his arrival. All that remained of the buildings, installations, and even people were buried under the destruction…
Aeros's body was now reduced to a single eye, which he crushed without even realizing it.
So easily, an entity had been defeated…
And the crater he left behind was so immense it seemed as if the city had been built around it—or rather, the ruins and dust rising with the souls…
Yet the black mass paid no attention…
It seemed to march in a direction unknown to all...
But at the border between Zvenne and Garida, a man appeared on the battlefield.
A man in terrifying black armor, like a vengeful, dreadful spirit.
Upon his sudden arrival, everyone froze…
This man was none other than Marc.
The Garida soldiers saw their worst nightmare approach and their blood ran cold. Some fainted under the Death of War's aura, others retreated in vehicles and many couldn't move, paralyzed by fear and terror.
Yet any effort in this war against such a force was futile. The word most fitting at that moment was…
Die!
Marc appeared before a terrified soldier who had turned to flee.
Before he could say a word, his head was gone in an instant. The same happened to everyone behind him.
The blow had been lethal and the heads of dozens of soldiers had been cut off in a fraction of a second.
The soldiers fell like flies, and the dark aura devoured them without mercy, growing stronger and stronger with each passing moment.
The battlefield changed with every step of the Death of War.
Out of control, the war took a nightmarish turn that day...
Suddenly, Marc looked up at the sky. A new threat descended upon the battlefield, and the black knight sensed it.
Several A42s were coming straight for him.
In truth, Garid had wasted no time. The moment Marc's presence was detected on the battlefield, the order was given: Annihilate him!!
Several Kurks had been lined up without restraint, loaded, then fired toward the battlefield. Ally or enemy… all could die under their strike, as long as that bastard Marc perished once and for all.
The sky turned into a rain of destructive shooting stars. The war had reached its peak. Tension had reached its limit. Death stood at its summit.
And within that chaotic, anarchic darkness, a man in black armor lifted his gaze to the heavens…
Around him lay only destruction—destruction he himself had brought. Above him loomed more destruction, summoned simply by his very existence…
And in the end, he would dispose of it.
He would dispose of everything…
The problem was that at this moment, he was not conscious. So what could three poor missiles possibly do against him?
The black mass knew a mere A42 could do nothing against it, so it ignored them, slaughtering the remaining Garida soldiers. Tanks exploded at the slightest touch, vehicles were hurled through the air, corpses along with them…
Marc even seized skulls and crushed them together. He grabbed soldiers—dead or alive—turning them into brutal whips of destruction, lashing them against anything draped in Garida's colors.
His own native Empire, his former home, crumbled under the merciless, pitiless blows of the Death of War.
And after defeating Aeros, Marc had more than earned that name…
But the soldiers of Zvenne were not spared either.
They tried to escape the missiles armed with bombs plummeting toward them. Yet they knew their hope was already gone. It was too late to flee, and there was nowhere left to hide.
The moment the Death of War had stepped onto the battlefield, their fates had been sealed.
The soldiers slowed, aware of their impending end. Some simply looked up at the sky, placing their helmets against their chests, helping one another stand.
Now that Marc was here, they no longer needed to fight their enemies.
It was a brief rest… before eternal rest.
Their weary, wounded faces relaxed. Bodies collapsed from exhaustion. Spears and swords dropped to the ground, guns and cannons fell silent. And all eyes turned to the spectacle.
They watched Marc destroy enemy tanks, watched A42s fall from the heavens like the gentle hands of death.
Though the Death of War was terrifying, they felt relief that he was not against them.
Everyone stopped and simply watched. The Queen of War was not here to perform another miracle beyond reason, so all they could do was watch.
Smiling or not, happy or not, sad or not, tall or small, broken or whole, frozen or wounded…
Death waited for no one.
But suddenly, they saw Marc leap into the sky, reaching the same height as the missiles. A spark of hope returned to their eyes.
Yet just as faith stirred once more, they realized the bitter truth..Marc was not here to save them.
He caught a missile midair and ripped away all its thrusters with violent force. Regrettably, he let the other two bombs continue their descent straight toward the ground.
His plan was simple: hurl the one in his grasp back at its sender.
Two bombs continued their cruel descent toward the ground, forcing the soldiers to close their eyes.
Their final moments arrived as if it were just another step in life.
They had known from the beginning that it could end this way. War was made like that. For nothing in the world would they regret having served their country. For nothing in the world would they regret having fought proudly under the colors of Zvenne.
Their only regret might have been dying in a miserable corner of the battlefield, and that their name be forever engraved on a stone recalling their exploit.
Such was war—it spared not the strongest, but the luckiest.
And it all came down to one fateful encounter: the day they crossed paths with the Slave of Destiny…
The bombs detonated the instant they struck the ground.
Marc was engulfed in the explosion as he fell from the sky. Yet in an instant, he had already relayed his own bomb.
He lost himself in the fire and the intense heat, falling silently amid the grip of chaos…
Everything within a six-kilometer radius was razed. The deadliest tragedy of all time. The A42s were the most powerful bombs in history. Designed as ultimate deterrent weapons during a war, they ensured that no enemy would ever attempt another strike. The alliance had been behind their creation—and on this day, their purpose was fulfilled…
Bodies lay scattered in the flames; those too close no longer existed in any physical form. The border had transformed into a true volcano, leaving no chance for any survivors.
Before this, the highest death toll ever recorded in a nuclear strike had been 385,000. The A42s were considered nine times more powerful.
Dropped on a battlefield, no one even dared to count the missing…
It was truly the end of the world…