The night sky burned blue.
Fire climbed the buildings like wild vines, mana-fed and frenzied, painting the city in colors that did not belong to the world of the living. Giggleburg groaned like a collapsing beast—stone splitting, metal melting, the howl of mana screaming through the streets.
Nogare didn't waste breath. "Move!"
Zentake sprinted ahead, boots splashing through puddles of liquid crystal. Every few steps he flicked his wrist, tossing small iron canisters behind him. Each one struck stone, cracked open—and bloomed. Azure flames rushed upward, devouring rooftops and bridges in sheets of unnatural blue.
"Nothing like a clean getaway!" Zentake cackled, his silhouette framed by fire. "Look at it! My masterpiece!"
Yoshiya didn't have time to argue. He kept rear guard, both hands raised, green sigils spinning around his wrists.
"Barrier!"
A shimmering wall of force slammed into place behind them just as a wave of half-demons leapt from the rooftops, claws extended, teeth bared. They crashed into the barrier like starving wolves into iron bars.
The ground shuddered. The barrier fractured.
"Mana Shield!" Yoshiya snapped, pulse spiking.
Energy flared again—this time thicker, denser, reinforced with raw mana drawn from his lungs. The demons hit it a second time. Their claws screeched against the magical surface, but the Mana Shield held.
Nogare's voice echoed from ahead, sharp and commanding. "Don't overextend. Mana sickness will kill you faster than blades."
"I know," Yoshiya said through gritted teeth, sweat dripping down his jaw.
But Mana Shield had to hold.
Just a few more streets.
Beside him, Omina stumbled, still pale and trembling from Berserk's aftermath. Her breaths were shallow, eyes unfocused. But her hand never left the hilt of her sword—ready, even in exhaustion.
"Omina," Yoshiya murmured, sliding beside her without slowing his sprint. "Stay with me."
"I'm… trying."
Her voice was hoarse, barely more than a whisper.
The crystal's destruction had eaten something from deep in her bones.
They reached the central square—and the world exploded.
A pillar of mana burst from beneath the ground, ripping through the cobblestones and spearing into the sky. The blast was loud enough to shatter windows half a district away. The shockwave hit them from behind, throwing Yoshiya forward—he rolled across the ground, gritting his teeth as sparks and heat rained down.
Nogare hauled him up by the arm without looking back.
"No time. Streets won't hold much longer."
Zentake, unfazed, tossed another bomb over his shoulder. "Let the city sing before it dies!"
The explosion that followed wasn't fire—it was blue lightning, snaking across rooftops and detonating towers like they were made of glass.
Towers collapsed one after another, collapsing in slow, almost graceful arcs. Each fall sent shockwaves through the streets, dust clouds rising like funeral shrouds.
Omina looked back—eyes wide.
Not with awe.
Not with horror.
With gravity.
"It's… disappearing," she said quietly. "The city… everything in it."
Yoshiya followed her gaze.
Giggleburg was dying—not fast, but dramatically. Like a stage performer collapsing under the lights.
Beautiful in a monstrous, tragic way.
This city had stood for generations.
Now it was becoming smoke.
The caravan burst into view, reins already in Nogare's hands.
"Get in!"
Zentake dove into the back, laughing breathlessly. "Treasures secured! Souls screaming! A job well done!"
Omina climbed in after him, collapsing against the wooden rail, her breathing ragged. Yoshiya followed, chest still heaving, barrier sigils fading off his skin like dying embers.
Nogare cracked the reins.
The caravan wheels tore across the burning street, sparks flying as they hit broken stone. The gates of Giggleburg—massive iron doors once proud—were now warped and melting from the heat.
The caravan smashed through them.
Behind, a final explosion erupted from deep in the earth. The gates were swallowed in blue-white fire. The metal twisted, liquefying into dripping molten glass that flowed like tears down the stone arch.
The shockwave chased them across the plains—hot wind at their backs, ash falling like summer snow.
When the noise faded, only silence followed.
The ruined city burned behind them, lighting the horizon like a fallen star.
Nogare didn't look back.
His voice was low, almost distant.
"That's enough. Let it burn."
Zentake leaned back, kicking his boots up on the side rail, utterly pleased. "We got crystals, enchanted scraps, old coins, and oh—look—whatever this is." He held up a charred, jewel-studded cane. "I bet it belonged to someone important who is now very, very dead."
Omina, eyes half-shut, murmured, "You're crazy."
"And profitable," Zentake replied brightly.
Yoshiya didn't join in.
He was staring at a fragment of the mana crystal resting in his palm.
It pulsed—faint, rhythmic.
Not dead.
Not finished.
Something still lived inside it.
He swallowed hard.
The world rarely ended cleanly.
Even ashes remember.
And whatever memory this shard carried… would follow them back to Korvath.