The first warning came without sound.
Across distant regions, guild formations trembled. Mana wells buckled. Ancient detection arrays—relics meant to last centuries—screamed once and then went dark.
Every guild master felt it.
Not as information.
But as instinct.
A pressure so vast it made breathing feel optional.
"This aura…" one whispered, blood seeping from his ears. "It's not a calamity-class monster."
Another clenched his staff, knuckles white. "It's worse."
They did not debate.
They did not hesitate.
The guild masters moved as one, abandoning councils, meetings, even ongoing wars. Space tore open under forced teleportation as they chased the source of that impossible power.
---
The ruined city greeted them with silence.
No—aftermath.
What had once been shattered stone and collapsed towers was now unrecognizable. The land itself had been kneaded and crushed, flattened into warped terrain as if reality had been beaten into submission.
The air trembled.
Then they saw him.
Lunaria stood at the center.
Hair pitch black, streaked faintly with abyssal purple, rising and flowing as if submerged in an unseen storm. His aura did not expand—it existed, dominating everything within its reach. The ground beneath him cracked continuously, unable to settle.
Nearby—
Ash, Riven, Kael, and Juno were still fighting.
Barely.
Ash's sword arm shook violently, bones fractured and reforged by sheer will.
Riven's shadows tore themselves apart just to reform again.
Kael's lightning burned his own flesh as much as it struck outward.
Juno's chains were embedded deep into the earth, anchoring him so he wouldn't be blown away.
They were surviving.
Nothing more.
The guild masters froze.
Shivering.
Not from cold.
From understanding.
"This… this is berserk state," one muttered. "No—this is beyond it."
The moment they stepped closer—
Lunaria turned.
His gaze landed on them, and several guild masters collapsed instantly, forced to their knees by pressure alone. Hearts hammered. Vision blurred. Every survival instinct screamed the same command:
Run.
Lunaria spoke.
"If you don't want to die," he said calmly, voice echoing with abyssal weight, "join."
He tilted his head slightly.
"Fight me."
Silence followed.
No one asked why.
No one refused.
They had no option.
With roars torn from fear and pride alike, the guild masters charged—unleashing everything they had spent decades mastering. Divine arts, forbidden techniques, life-burning overdrives.
The battlefield erupted.
And Lunaria welcomed them.
For hours, the world broke again and again.
Techniques shattered on contact. Regeneration failed and was forced back through sacrifice. Mana reserves emptied and were torn open anew. Even the guild masters—figures who had never bowed to anyone—were driven to desperation.
Yet Lunaria never slowed.
He fought like a living catastrophe, striking without pattern or mercy. Each movement rewrote the battlefield. Each blow reminded them of the gulf between strength and existence.
Time lost meaning.
Eight hours passed.
Then—
Without warning—
The pressure vanished.
Lunaria's aura imploded inward, collapsing violently into his body. The abyssal glow faded. His hair shortened, returning to its original length as the berserk state cancelled itself.
The sudden absence of pressure sent everyone crashing to the ground.
Silence fell.
Lunaria stood there, breathing slowly.
He looked around.
At the broken land.
At the exhausted guild masters barely clinging to consciousness.
At Ash, Riven, Kael, and Juno—bloodied, shaking, but alive.
Then he spoke.
"Training," Lunaria said, voice steady once more, "has ended."
No triumph.
No praise.
Just fact.
The guild masters felt something settle into their bones—not relief, not fear, but certainty.
They had not come to stop a disaster.
They had been dragged into a lesson.
And they would never forget it.