As the chaos of the battle intensified, the creatures of Mire tore through the creatures of Night like a ravenous storm devouring everything in its path.
In-Su watched with a mixture of awe and grim determination.
His eyes followed Blot, a figure moving with terrifying swiftness—like a shadow given form, darting and striking with effortless, brutal power.
Blood splattered in arcs, painting the air with crimson streaks, as if the very night itself was bleeding out.
In-Su couldn't help but smirk slightly, despite the chaos.
"Ah… He's really strong," he thought, a flicker of amusement crossing his face. "Guess I'll have to toughen up even more."
Then, a low, deep voice echoed, like a shadow whispering from the depths of an abyss.
"You do know those blood are going to be yours soon," it murmured, almost mockingly.
In-Su turned his head slowly and saw Fenrir lounging on a broken stone, hanging lazily with his legs crossed and one hand casually draped over his knee.
His face was relaxed, eyes half-lidded, like he was watching a simple show rather than a apocalyptic war.
Fenrir's presence was calm but dangerous—like a predator waiting patiently for the perfect moment to strike.
In-Su glanced at him, eyes narrowing slightly.
"I know," he whispered, voice hollow.
"Honestly? I really want to die. I'm fighting just for fun now. But I'm also going to let him end me. No point in resisting anymore."
Fenrir scoffed, a low, rolling sound that vibrated like thunder.
"You've got to be kidding me, right?" he said, voice dripping with disbelief. "Are you even in your right mind? We have to kill Blot. We must end the reign of the prince of Mire."
Fenrir's gaze shifted, and his eyes landed on Vespera and Dracula, who stood nearby—silent spectators, smirking as if they were watching a game unfold.
They had sworn an oath to watch the world fall apart, and now, they reveled in the chaos.
In-Su's voice lowered, almost to a whisper. "You know… I've never seen my mom so happy before," he murmured softly, a hint of sadness in his tone.
Fenrir's brow raised slightly, a flicker of curiosity crossing his face.
"Yes… Maybe… I've never seen you laugh either," he said quietly, almost surprised himself.
In-Su gulped, the weight of exhaustion pressing down on him.
"I'm already drained," he admitted, voice trembling. "First, invisibility—then Sora, then me. It's just been so hard for me lately."
Fenrir nodded solemnly, then glanced down, a smirk curling at the corners of his mouth.
"Mysta… she seemed..." he began, trailing off.
"Invisible?" In-Su interrupted, a bit breathless.
"Tired, even though she isn't doing anything?" His voice cracked with worry. "She's been sad lately… I'm really worried about her."
Fenrir chuckled softly, standing up and leaning casually against the fence. His expression was sharp but kind, like a wolf watching over its pack.
"If you need any help, I'm always available," he said, voice smooth as silk, before sighing and turning away.
Just as In-Su was about to thank him, Fenrir was already gone—melting into the shadows like a whisper carried away by the wind.
-----
Mysta stood tall amidst the chaos, her luminous aura flickering like a dying star. Her glowing sword shimmered with brilliant light, slicing through the air with a radiant hum.
But in an instant, the glow dimmed, the blade vanished into thin air, and she suddenly collapsed to the ground, her body trembling with exhaustion.
Her energy had been drained—one of her greatest weaknesses she hated with a fiery passion.
She clenched her fists, grimacing in frustration at her own fragility.
Bolt, observing her from a distance, let out a resigned sigh. His eyes softened with concern as he swiftly sliced through a goblin that lunged at him, the creature's entrails spilling out in a gruesome display of gore.
Blood splattered across the battlefield, painting chaos in crimson.
Without hesitation, Bolt abandoned the fight temporarily and rushed toward Mysta, his voice gentle yet urgent.
"Mysta… Mysta… are you okay?" he asked, kneeling beside her, his tone filled with genuine worry.
Mysta nodded faintly, her voice steady despite her exhaustion.
"It's okay… just drained," she replied, trying to brush off her weakness. Her breath was shallow, the toll of her energy loss evident in her eyes.
Bolt reached out, helping her to her feet. His expression hardened with resolve.
"I need you to do something for me," he said firmly. "Take all the human beings from this area and escort them to Mire—safety first. We can't let them get caught in this chaos."
She looked up at him, her eyes still faint but determined.
"And… create a strong force field. Something they can't break through, to keep other cities safe," he continued, voice steady with authority. "You can do it with Elara—she's powerful enough."
Mysta nodded again, her face showing her understanding. She quickly ran to Elara, grabbing her hand with a sense of purpose.
Meanwhile, Bolt, soaring high into the sky, his figure becoming a silhouette against the swirling chaos below.
Mysta and Elara arrived at the grandest mausoleum in the city, its towering spires reaching into the sky like ancient guardians. Inside, the air was thick with a mixture of fear and hope.
The vast hall was filled with trembling humans, their eyes wide with uncertainty, huddled together behind shimmering veils of protective magic.
Mysta and Elara stepped inside, their flowing robes catching the light as their majestic cloths rippled with each movement.
Mysta's gaze swept over the frightened faces, her heart heavy.
The grandeur of the mausoleum contrasted sharply with the chaos outside, a sanctuary carved from stone and magic.
Elara's voice was gentle yet resolute. "Mysta, how are we supposed to take them to Mire…?" Elara asked, her tone tinged with worry.
Mysta let out a long sigh, her shoulders sagging slightly.
"Open your own ice portal," she suggested softly, her voice filled with quiet strength.
Elara shook her head, her brow furrowing.
"But—I'm not that powerful. Your glimmer… You're the only one who has the power to transport them to Mire. If not, they all die," she said, her voice trembling slightly with the weight of responsibility.
Mysta's eyes widened in shock, a shiver running down her spine.
"Die…" she whispered, her voice barely audible, as if the word itself threatened to shatter her resolve.
Elara placed a reassuring hand on Mysta's shoulder, her gaze steady.
"You take care of the ones here," she said softly, "I'll create a force field—something strong enough to hold back anything that tries to break through. I'll let them know what's coming, and they'll trust us."
Mysta nodded silently, determination flickering in her eyes.
"You got this," Elara added with a reassuring smile before striding confidently outside to prepare the magic.
Mysta turned toward the trembling crowd, her expression gentle but firm.
Her voice was a soothing whisper. "Don't worry… you will be safe," she promised, her words wrapping around them like a warm cloak.
A small child looked up at her, eyes sparkling with innocence. "Are we going to be okay?" he asked, his voice hopeful.
Mysta knelt slightly, smiling softly as she gently cupped his cheeks.
"Yes, we're going to be fine," she replied, her heart swelling with a bittersweet warmth. She ruffled his hair affectionately, a small gesture of comfort amid the chaos.
She knew she needed to recharge—her body and spirit weary from the battle.
"I need to get recharged," she whispered to herself, her gaze drifting to the distant horizon.
"Until then, I will stay here and keep them safe," she vowed silently, her aura shimmering faintly as she prepared to hold the line.