In the capital, the academies were collapsing under the weight of chaos. Walls cracked, the sky was ablaze with firestorms, and the air was thick with ash and smoke. Everything around groaned under the strain of collapse, as if the city itself writhed in agony.
Suddenly, the light vanished from the high-level cavern that Elyanos was exploring observing the events from afar. He felt a deep imbalance a force unlike any he had ever known shook the world from bottom to top, as if thousands of strikes were falling upon it at once. There was no time to hesitate.
With a muffled roar, he raised his hands to the sky, summoning his pure white light. In an instant, he disappeared from his high perch and appeared in the heart of the capital in a flash, a sunburst amidst the darkness. The ground trembled beneath his feet, and the city seemed to pause for a heartbeat, sensing the arrival of the Emperor of Magic.
Elyanos did not raise his hands aimlessly. With piercing eyes, he sent beams of light twisting through the rubble, preventing further collapse and shielding trapped civilians. Each ray melted the ash, burned away the smoke, and temporarily restored balance to the crumbling structures.
He looked upwards, where chaos surged with full force, realizing the scale of the incoming strikes thousands of waves of destruction directed toward the city. His heart surpassed fear, yet doubt crept in: would his power be enough to halt this assault? Or was the human world about to be devoured?
Nevertheless, he did not hesitate. Every movement, every pulse of light, was an attempt to preserve what remained, to control the chaos before it spiraled into total catastrophe. The entire world seemed suspended upon his ability to confront this collapse, and the city felt the weight of the emperor, who appeared only in the moment the world needed him most.
Across the city, old houses shook, some rooftops collapsing into the streets, trapping residents beneath the debris. Children screamed silently, mothers clutched their young in terror, while sparks danced unchecked around them. Men carried the wounded, stepping over ash and dust, each stride striking reality itself.
In the Shadow Realm, the situation was no better. The council gathered in oppressive silence. The Six Shadows regarded one another, each confronting a truth they had long avoided: Haiten was not a mistake… he was a force beyond control.
Yamiryo, the Dragon of Darkness, broke the silence first, his voice heavy as if each word carved through the air:
"If this continues… there will be no world left for us to rule."
He did not fear humanity, he feared balance itself. Haiten, unstable and unpredictable, had become a threat to the Shadow Realm as much as to the human world.
Yet the danger lay not only in his power… but in its possibilities. Any action he took could reshape reality in an instant.
Kajikitsune, the Master of Deception, dared to voice the idea everyone had avoided:
"He cannot be killed. But… he can be restrained."
The words were more than a suggestion; they were an implicit judgment on the fate of all. Every second of hesitation allowed the gate to widen, the rift to grow as if it were a living entity consuming everything.
Meanwhile, Haiten wandered among the fissures left by the catastrophe, observing both worlds as if staring into a distorted reflection of his own soul. Every step he took made reality shiver. He did not intend destruction, but he did not know how to stop.
In a rare moment of silence, he sensed something watching him. Not fear… but a concentrated intent rooted in shadows.
When he raised his head, the other Shadows stood at the edge of the void between worlds. They did not attack. They did not speak. Yet the air itself was thick with betrayal.
He asked, his voice calm but heavy with exhaustion, as one determined to comprehend the incomprehensible:
"What are you doing?"
Yamiryo replied coldly, his words weighted with inevitability:
"We are saving what remains."
Haiten laughed, but this time it was no mere mockery. It was a quiet challenge, a test of himself and the world.
He whispered, "From me? Or from yourselves?", as if reading the absurdity of reality.
No words came back. The answer arrived through tremors in the earth, through fissures pulsing with Aether, and through flickering light attempting to weave together the broken threads. Everything screamed in silence: balance was no longer as it had been.
Haiten smiled and spoke to himself in a low voice:
"It is time to test my power… let us see if the world is ready for me, or will it be torn apart, collapsing with the same ease and inevitability that once swallowed that empire whole."
In the distant districts, people ran from shadows stretching across the city, fleeing through twisted alleys and broken streets, choking on ash and dust. Here and there, light and darkness collided, forming grotesque shapes, as if the world itself had become a living nightmare.
At the heart of the chaos, the Shadow Gate pulsed relentlessly. Each beat sent waves through the city, shaking buildings, roads, trees, even the very air.
Amid it all, Haiten was not merely an observer. He was the pulse of the rift itself. Every movement measured the limits of his power, forcing reality to confront the weight of his existence. And with each passing moment, he knew the end had not yet come… but it was approaching, as if everything waited for a single, decisive choice.
What no one knew… was that the Shadows were watching him closely, ready for their next move.
A sudden flare of anger, or a single misstep from any Shadow, could ignite a spark that could not be stopped.
And so, as the world writhed in the chaos he had unleashed, the stage was set for unforeseen events… the true battle was about to begin.