On feeling the presence of a primordial god, Anhanguçu advanced toward the being that had appeared beyond the walls of the west marquisate. The landscape was vast, an open field that stretched in silence after leaving the ruins.
In the center of that terrain, Anhanguçu spotted an unmoving figure, displaying a slight smile on his face. He stopped two hundred meters away and then noticed: before him there was not a god, but a boy.
A boy of bronzed skin, marked by the vitality of nature. The hair, brown, thick and rebellious, resembled the fertile color of the earth. Over the eyes, a dark band hid his gaze.
Anhanguçu spoke with contempt, his voice loaded with irony:
" So it is you who emitted that powerful aura?" he laughed low. " For a moment, I came to be worried… but now, seeing up close, I realize there is no reason for so much."
Kael kept the smile on his face, staring at him in silence.
For a few seconds, Anhanguçu observed him — and then charged with fury, the sharp claws ready to tear off his head. But when the blow hit the target, his strength crushed only clay and stone. The smashed head revealed itself to be of an earth clone.
Behind him, Kael's true presence rose, relentless. With a sarcastic smile, he said in a low tone:
" This is going to be fun."
Meanwhile, inside the castle, the hall remained solid and imposing, but the newly-split ceiling let the sunlight enter in irregular beams, illuminating the stone floor. Dust fell slowly from the open cracks, making each movement heavier and each shadow more threatening. Inside that scene, the circle of judgment remained intact, almost like a silent stage for what was about to happen.
Anhanguçu had left; outside the marquisate, his presence already echoed in the memory of those who remained. But inside the hall, the god's warning still hung in the air. The count then rose slowly from the throne. Isabela and Ereon remained motionless inside the circle, the very atmosphere carrying a supernatural speed.
Before Isabela could react, the count's hand was already on her neck, squeezing with calculated cold. Life seemed to drain from the corners of her eyes.
Then, he spoke with a solemn air, the voice controlled as one who dictates an ancient sentence:
" Child, I was here when the gods arrived and I will be when they leave. Do you think you can face me? I know well how your judgment works: to take effect, it is necessary to plant doubt about one's own acts. But know that I do not regret anything I did — nor will I regret what I will do."
Isabela, feeling the blood weaken and the breath faint, gathered the remaining strength she had:
" Before arriving here…" she murmured, the voice thin " I met someone who told me how your agreement works. She also said that you would find your death… here…"
Before she could finish, Ereon's katana cut the air in a mortal arc. The blade passed through Isabela's body, still suspended by the count, tearing her armor and the flesh beneath. Blood spurted, staining the stone floor, while Ereon kept his eyes fixed on the enemy's only good eye, his muscles tense, breathing with contained effort.
The blow continued mercilessly toward the count. In a quick reflex, he recoiled, escaping by a thread. Ereon felt the tension in every fiber of his body, but did not waver, his fists clenched at his side, ready to react again. A twisted and macabre smile appeared on the count's lips, contorted between surprise and amusement.
Isabela fell heavily to the floor. Air escaped her lungs in cutting moans; her hands trembled as she tried to support herself, the body burning with the pain of the blade. A confused and suffering look crossed her face, a mixture of shock and silent determination — the promise that she was not yet defeated.
The count, with a sharp smile, spoke:
" Boy, you are really interesting. Our eyes show that we are equal. We do everything to reach our goals... It's a pity I will have to kill you."
He turned his gaze to Isabela, fallen and pale on the floor, a vision of defeat.
" Your discovery is useless."
The count's words brought to Isabela's mind the memory of someone she had found: "The wound will not leave a scar." For a moment, she smiled almost without noticing, murmuring to herself: "Really… there is no way I can like you…"
The memory was interrupted by the count's order, the voice cutting the air:
" Die!"
In response, his guards advanced like a wave against the circle of judgment.
Isabela rose from the floor, wounded by Ereon's blade, but did not waste time. Blue flames sprang from her hands, licking the wound and closing the cuts the blade had left. The pain burned, but she controlled the fire to heal quickly, while at the same time enveloping the guards who advanced against her.
Some of them were captured by the circle of judgment. Isabela's voice echoed firm:
" Guilty!"
The guards who dared to cross that line were consumed by the fire, screaming as they vanished. Others tried to retreat or attack, but the flames knocked them down, disarmed them or violently pushed them away.
Ereon, seeing the situation, did not hesitate. Ignoring the remaining soldiers, he advanced straight toward the count. His blade cut arms, legs and torsos with mortal precision, piercing the guards who tried to protect him. Cries of pain and shock echoed through the hall, while some fell to their knees, trying to defend themselves, but were quickly felled or pierced. Each movement of Ereon was agile and calculated — spins, jumps, short retreats — and his blade left trails of blood and deep cuts along the way.
While Ereon advanced, Isabela stood firm, concentrating on the knights who still tried to reorganize. Her blue flames danced across the floor, forming tentacles and waves of fire that burned, disarmed and pushed the enemies. Each guard who crossed the circle of judgment was declared "Guilty!", consumed by the fire, their screams echoing through the hall. She blocked blows, rolled to dodge and launched flames to keep everyone at a distance, protecting the circle with silent determination.
With the intermediate guards eliminated or distracted, Ereon finally positioned himself before the count, ready for the final confrontation. Isabela continued dealing with the remaining knights, keeping the pressure and defending the circle. The air around trembled, laden with tension and magic; the dust raised by the attacks mixed with the beams of sunlight reflecting in the blue flames, while the sounds of steel cutting, screams and bursts of fire filled the hall.
The count fixed his eye on Ereon, his voice loaded with contempt and frustration:
" Bunch of useless… you cannot even kill a dying girl and a child, really. If I could, I would kill Teseu and Nika again. Because of them, I have to do everything with my own hands."
Ereon stared at him in silence, breathing slowly. His eyes did not avert, every muscle tense, ready for whatever came.
The count leaned slightly forward and spoke:
" Boy… kneel before me and I will not take your life."
Ereon did not answer. Slowly, he removed his black cloak, revealing the assassin outfit he wore. On his right hand, a mark began to appear, engraving itself on the skin with an almost palpable energy.
The center of the hand was a solid circle, completely filled with black ink, resembling an absolute eclipse or an endless abyss. Around the core, irregular lines and dots radiated like a black sun, emanating a profane aura.
From the wrist to the fingers, the strokes extended in geometric and curved shapes that resembled ancient runes or arcane sigils. They mixed chaos and order. Some symbols looked organic, like roots or tentacles; others sacred, like inscriptions of a forgotten cult.
The mark was not just a tattoo — it was a seal, a pact, the representation of an inevitable fate. Small black sparks danced over the skin, partially illuminating Ereon's face. The air around vibrated; the ground seemed to pulse under that presence of power.
The count retreated slightly, the smile still present, but now tinged with a spark of apprehension. He finally understood that that boy in front of him was not just another enemy.
Outside the marquisate, a wave of energy ran across the field. The power emanated from the mark on Ereon's hand was so intense that it made Kael and Anhanguçu stop abruptly, their hair and clothes rustling with the invisible force that pulsed in the air.
Anhanguçu leaned slightly, his eyes shining with a wild and threatening intensity:
" Do you know… the true identity of the boy?" his voice echoed deep, loaded with disdain and doubt, as if the very air trembled with his words.
Kael remained motionless, his breathing calm as if he felt the wind and the earth around. His voice echoed, calm and firm, but loaded with disdain:
" What difference would knowing make? In the end, you will not feel the arrival of what will come."
Silence hung over the field. The air vibrated with the strength of Ereon's mark; even the sunlight seemed to tremble. Kael and Anhanguçu remained motionless, aware that something monumental was about to happen inside the castle — a confrontation that no one could ignore.