Arthur and Taren found Modred standing where the scorched earth still smoked faintly beneath his boots.
For a few seconds, neither of them spoke.
They just stared.
Modred noticed. Of course he did.
He turned slowly, lips curling into that same irritating grin and squinted at their faces.
"…What?" he said. "You two look like you're about to cry."
Taren's fist answered for him.
Thud.
Modred yelped, stumbling half a step. "—What the hell was that for?!"
Arthur exhaled sharply. "You had us worried, idiot."
Modred rubbed his head, wincing, then smirked again. "Wow. Didn't know you cared that much."
"You're insufferable," Arthur muttered.
Modred grinned anyway. Then, more quietly, his eyes flicked past them.
"…Lysara."She alright?"
Arthur sighed. "She's fine."
Modred nodded once. The grin returned, lighter now. "Good."
That did it.
Arthur and Taren exchanged a look.
This time, they were grinning.
Hands over their mouths. Barely holding it in.
"…Why are you looking at me like that?" Modred snapped.
Taren tilted his head. "You asked about her first."
Arthur added, "Didn't even ask about us."
Modred stiffened. "That doesn't mean anything."
"It does," Taren said calmly.
Arthur added, far too casually, "Ever since you and Lysara got that close, you've been acting strange."
"Yeah," Taren said. "You two look like a perfect match."
Modred froze.
Then his ears turned red.
"Shut up," he barked, cheeks flushed. "Focus. We're here for the flag, not your stupid fantasies."
Arthur laughed. "Sure."
Taren crouched and unfolded his map. "There's a route. We can reach it—but avoiding Division One entirely isn't happening."
Modred glanced at it. "Then we go straight through."
Arthur stared at him. "That's the dumbest idea you've had today."
"Hey—"
"I've got something better," Taren cut in. "But you'll have to trust me."
Both of them looked at him.
Arthur raised a brow. "That's new."
Taren didn't flinch. "Modred, you go straight ahead. Arthur, regroup with Division Four—Riven and Julius included."
Modred's grin widened instantly. "I like this plan already."
Arthur hesitated, then nodded. "Try not to die."
Taren gestured to a waiting horse. "Take this."
Modred stretched his shoulders. "Won't need it."
He sheathed his swords.
Heat rippled.
Flames burst beneath his feet, and in a blink, he was gone—leaving scorched ground and hot air behind.
Elsewhere—
Dante was breathing heavily, blood trailing down his cheek.
Leon stood beside Augustus, unimpressed.
"I expected more," Leon said flatly.
Augustus yawned. "Can we just leave him?"
Dante snarled. "You damn bastards! Dont mess with me and fight me properly!"
Before either could respond—
BOOM.
The ground exploded.
Flames tore upward as Modred crashed down between them, leaving a crater behind.
Dante stared. "…You've got to be kidding me."
Modred straightened, brushing ash off his shoulder. "Man. You look rough."
"Shut up," Dante snapped.
Leon turned slowly. "…Modred."
Modred blinked—then broke into a wide grin.
"Big bro Leon!" he laughed, then turned immediately. "Big bro Aug!"
Augustus narrowed his eyes. "Don't call me that."
Modred leaned in, smirking. "Wow. You're still short."
Leon coughed.
Dante snorted.
Augustus's brow twitched. "Say that again."
Before Modred could—
A deep, echoing roar shook the battlefield.
The shadows warped.
Two massive figures emerged.
A chimera, multiple heads snarling, scales scraping against stone.
And beside it—
A towering Hoblim.
Its body was enormous, muscles coiled and unnatural, dark Arcana rolling off it like smoke. Its eyes burned red as it dragged massive claws through the ground.
"Oh hell yes," he said. "Dibs on the Hoblim."
Augustus immediately pointed. "No. I want the Hoblim."
Modred stared at him. "Since when do you pout?"
Leon pinched the bridge of his nose. "You two haven't changed at all."
Dante sighed. "Figures."
Leon exhaled slowly, already tired. "Modred. Augustus. You two deal with the Hoblim."
Augustus's eyes lit up. "See? He agrees with me."
Modred scoffed. "Don't lump me in with him."
Leon continued, already turning away, "I'll take the chimera with—"
He paused, glanced sideways—
"—spiky hair."
Silence.
Dante's eye twitched.
"…What," he said loudly, "did you just call me?"
Leon blinked. "You heard me."
Dante snapped.
In one motion, he grabbed Leon by the collar and yanked him close, their foreheads nearly touching.
"Say it again," Dante growled. "I dare you."
Leon stared back, deadpan. "After we kill this thing."
Modred burst out laughing.
Augustus covered his mouth, shoulders shaking. "He really called you spiky hair."
Dante snarled. "You think this is funny?"
"Oh, absolutely," Modred said.
Leon sighed, prying Dante's grip loose. "Focus. Chimera first. Then you can punch me."
Dante clicked his tongue. "…You're paying for this."
The chimera roared, all heads screaming at once.
Leon drew his blade. "Try not to embarrass yourself."
Dante smirked. "Says the guy who started it."
Behind them—
Modred drew his twin swords.
Green light burned in his eyes.
Flames erupted along the blades, crawling outward.
Beside him, Augustus stepped forward, golden light igniting in his gaze.
"Try not to slow me down," Augustus said.
Modred laughed. "You wish."