The cavern stretched endlessly into the shadows, ancient stone pillars carved with dark runes lining the walls. At the center sat Seraphina Nyxthalia, reclining on a twisted obsidian throne, her eyes glowing with a predatory, otherworldly gleam. Around her, the cavern seemed to breathe with malevolent energy, as if the very stone whispered secrets only she could hear.
Aurelian Thaldris stood nearby, his long silvery hair glinting even in the dim light, while Luxarion and Dimitri Volkov remained silent, their expressions vacant, eyes glazed as if trapped in a trance.
Aurelian's piercing eyes fixed on Seraphina, a subtle hint of frustration slipping through his stoic facade.
"Why are we dragging this out?" he asked, his voice cold and unyielding.
"We have the power to annihilate them outright. Why not strike now—tear down their sanctuaries and kill them where they stand?"
Seraphina's lips curved into a cruel, knowing smile, one finger idly tracing patterns on the armrest of her throne.
"You still don't understand, do you, Aurelian?" she purred.
"Charging in headfirst, slaughtering everything in sight... it's not just reckless—it's fatal to our mission."
Aurelian's eyes narrowed.
"And why is that? You speak as if fear holds you back."
She chuckled, the sound sharp and mocking.
"Fear? No, darling. Calculation. Precision. If we attack the seven-stars head-on and start a massacre, we might inadvertently awaken the Sevenfold Monarch. If that happens, everything we've worked for becomes meaningless. We cannot risk triggering his emergence."
Aurelian frowned, his mind racing with the implications.
"So you believe the monarch truly exists? I thought it was just a fairy tale—some ancient myth to give them false hope."
Seraphina's eyes grew colder, her smile vanishing.
"It is not a myth. The prophecy is real, and if the Chosen One awakens, all of our power becomes insignificant. That's why we're not slaughtering them all at once—we're culling them, weakening them, but never enough to force destiny's hand."
Aurelian remained silent, his thoughts unsettled. He was a warrior—powerful beyond measure—yet he knew better than to ignore Seraphina's schemes.
He glanced at Luxarion and Dimitri, whose vacant eyes remained fixed on nothing.
"And those two... what of them? They are merely puppets now—shadows of their former selves. Why bother keeping them?"
Seraphina glanced at Luxarion with mild amusement.
"Because they are tools, dear Aurelian. Luxarion's light and Dimitri's shadow complement each other perfectly—a balance of power that will crush even the most resilient heroes. Their strength is still valuable, even if their minds are mine."
Aurelian clenched his fists, a subtle growl escaping his throat.
"I don't like it. It feels... dishonorable. Using them as nothing but puppets."
Seraphina waved a hand dismissively.
"Spare me your draconic pride. Honor has no place in our conquest. We use whatever means necessary to snuff out the monarch before he awakens."
A brief silence lingered before Aurelian spoke again, his tone more curious.
"But why the interest in Vealzaryon's remnants? You mentioned him before. What does that ancient beast have to do with this?"
Seraphina's gaze hardened, her fingers tapping rhythmically on the throne.
"Vealzaryon..." she whispered, her voice dripping with disdain and grudging respect.
"Even now, I cannot comprehend how a mere human—no matter how resilient—managed to defeat him. I once witnessed Vealzaryon's fury—power so immense that it warped reality itself. I considered him one of the most dangerous entities to ever walk the mortal plane. And yet... Hakan Raihan brought him down."
Aurelian's eyes narrowed.
"You think there's more to it?"
Seraphina's smile returned, but it was sharper—crueler.
"Of course. There's no way Hakan could have overcome him unless something hindered Vealzaryon's strength. I suspect he was weakened—perhaps deliberately. There may be remnants of his power or knowledge left behind, and I will not allow them to fall into human hands."
She gestured into the shadows, and two figures emerged—warriors crafted from nightmare and bloodlust.
The first was a Dark Elve, slender and agile, with skin black as obsidian and crimson runes glowing across his arms. His twin blades crackled with ethereal shadowfire, giving off a suffocating aura of decay and despair.
"Feydor, the Abyssal Reaver," Seraphina intoned.
"Your talent for carving through defenses will be useful."
The second was a monstrous creature, hunched and heavily armored, with razor-sharp claws that dripped with venom. His chitinous exoskeleton shimmered in the dim light, and six emerald eyes glowed with predatory hunger.
"And you—Karnath, the Ravager. Your brute force will handle anything that dares to resist."
The two bowed in unison, their loyalty unquestionable.
"We serve, Lady Seraphina," Feydor rasped, his voice like grinding glass.
"Destruction shall follow," Karnath rumbled, his words like thunder.
Seraphina's eyes gleamed with anticipation.
"Go to Shizumi. Find anything that once belonged to Vealzaryon. His weapons, his armor—anything. Retrieve it and leave no survivors if they resist. But do not draw unnecessary attention. I want this done quietly."
The two assassins nodded and vanished into the shadows, their presence melting away like mist.
Aurelian folded his arms, still uneasy but resolute.
"Sending them to root out remnants of a dead beast... Do you truly think Vealzaryon left anything worth finding?"
Seraphina gave him a sidelong glance.
"I'm not sure. But I will not underestimate his legacy. If something of his remains, I will possess it—or I will see it destroyed before it can become a weapon against us."
Aurelian gave a curt nod, choosing not to challenge her further. He knew better than to question her obsession when she was like this—calculating and cold, with her mind already weaving the next move in their conquest.
As the cavern fell silent again, Seraphina leaned back on her throne, her gaze distant but sharp.
"Sevenfold Monarch... I will see you dead before your destiny can take root. Even if it means burning this world to the ground."
Perspective: Shizumi - High Tower Ruins
The High Tower—or rather, what remained of it—stood as a broken monument on the edge of Shizumi, twisted steel and shattered stone scattered across the area. Feydor, the Abyssal Reaver, stepped over the debris, his obsidian skin glistening with faint crimson lines, and his twin shadowfire blades humming with dark energy.
Beside him, Karnath, the Ravager lumbered forward, his massive frame cracking the ground beneath his feet. The venom-coated claws scraped against the broken pavement, and his six glowing eyes scanned the ruins with calculated indifference.
"Nothing here," Feydor muttered, his voice sharp and low.
"Not a trace of power. Either it's been moved, or the scent faded long ago."
Karnath let out a low, rumbling growl.
"Then why waste time here? This is pointless. I'd rather rip something apart."
Feydor sheathed his blades and glanced around the area.
"We're supposed to investigate all remnants of Vealzaryon's presence. This was his territory once, even if it's just a ruin now."
Karnath let out a harsh, scraping laugh.
"And how long do we sniff around like hounds? I came to kill something. It's been too long since I tasted blood."
Feydor's lips curled into a sadistic grin.
"Agreed. This isn't fun anymore. Let's make it fun."
They turned away from the ruins, their senses stretching out to the city below. The distant sounds of life—the hum of engines, laughter from nearby alleys—reached them.
"Humans," Karnath hissed, his fanged mouth splitting into a grotesque smile.
"They thought the dragon's death meant peace. Let's remind them of the cost of living in his shadow."
Shizumi - Heart of the City
The peaceful evening shattered as a massive void pulse erupted from Karnath, sending shockwaves that collapsed buildings and threw civilians screaming to the ground. Feydor dashed between structures, twin blades cleaving through fleeing humans, his movements a blur of darkness and death.
A group of 300 Black Dragon warriors—the dragons Hakan left behind to protect the city—descended from the skies, unleashing streams of flame and draconic energy. They encircled the invaders, fangs bared and wings spread wide.
"You dare threaten Shizumi?!" the lead dragon roared, his scales gleaming in the fading light.
But Feydor merely tilted his head, as if amused by the challenge.
"Dragons... remnants of a dead empire. Let's see if you're worth the effort."
The Carnage Begins
The dragons attacked in formation—breath attacks scorching the ground, talons ripping through the air. Karnath took the brunt of it without flinching, his chitinous armor absorbing the blows. One dragon managed to gouge into his shoulder, but Karnath grabbed it by the neck and crushed it with a sickening crunch, blood splattering across the pavement.
Feydor moved like a shadow—phasing through attacks and appearing behind one of the dragons, his blade slicing through its neck with terrifying precision.
"Pathetic. Is this all that remains of Vealzaryon's legacy?" he sneered.
One hundred dragons fought with all their might—breath attacks, claws, and fangs tearing into the invaders. But it wasn't enough. Feydor and Karnath were merciless, cutting through them as if they were nothing but fragile dolls. Blood soaked the streets, and the dragons fell one after another.
Black Dragons Headquarters
The phone rang in Alaric's office, piercing the tense atmosphere. He snatched it up immediately.
"What's the situation?" he barked.
An Accord official's voice came through, trembling.
"Huge power spikes detected at the High Tower ruins—off the charts. We're calculating levels near six-star or higher. It's not just a single entity—it's two!"
Alaric cursed, his hand tightening on the phone.
"Got it. Mobilizing now."
He hung up and turned to the others—Sylvia, Torren, and Rina—who had rushed into the room.
"We've got hostiles at the High Tower. Strong ones—might be six-star level or higher. No time to wait—we're moving out!"
"Got it!" Sylvia said, her eyes glinting with resolve.
"About time," Torren growled, flames dancing in his palms.
"I'll handle communication," Rina said, already pulling out her specialized device.
"No," Alaric interjected.
"I want you to do an emergency contact with the other guilds. We need backup—Kaede and Raiden's teams specifically. Tell them it's bad."
Rina nodded and immediately started transmitting distress signals.
By the time the Black Dragons arrived, the carnage had already spread through multiple blocks. The once vibrant heart of Shizumi was now a smoldering graveyard—streets littered with mangled bodies and dragon corpses, the air thick with smoke and the stench of burning flesh. Flames licked at the remnants of collapsed buildings, and the ground was slick with blood, pooling in the cracked pavement.
Alaric, leading the charge, froze for just a moment, his heart pounding with a mix of rage and despair. His comrades—dragons who had sworn to protect the city—were strewn about like broken dolls, their scales torn and burned. The sight of their once-proud warriors lying dead and desecrated sent a surge of fury coursing through his veins.
"Damn it..." he muttered, his hands trembling as he tightened his grip on his blades.
Torren followed close behind, his fists ablaze with furious fire, his breathing ragged.
"Those bastards...!" he snarled, barely able to contain his anger. Flames erupted from his hands, licking the air around him like feral beasts.
Sylvia put a hand on his shoulder, her voice unnaturally calm despite the chaos.
"We'll avenge them. But don't lose your head," she warned, her sharp eyes scanning the area, analyzing every detail of the destruction.
Rina, her face pale but resolute, pressed the communicator to her ear.
"Rina," Alaric called out, his tone urgent but measured.
"Did you get through to the other guilds?"
She nodded, wiping sweat from her forehead.
"Yes, both Kaede and Raiden are on their way. They said to hold out as long as we can."
Alaric clenched his jaw, forcing himself to breathe.
"Good. Then we'll hold."
Ahead, atop a mountain of fallen dragons, stood Feydor, his twin shadowfire blades dripping with blackened blood. His ashen skin glowed faintly under the flickering firelight, and his crimson eyes glinted with amusement. Karnath stood beside him, his chitinous armor coated in gore, as he casually gnawed on the severed limb of a fallen dragon, bone crunching between his fangs.
Alaric's gaze locked onto them, his muscles coiling like a drawn bow.
"Ruthless bastards..." he growled under his breath.
Feydor's head turned, a mocking smirk appearing on his face as he noticed the new arrivals. He flicked his blade, splattering blood onto the ground.
"Ah... new playthings. Let's see if you're stronger than the last batch."
Karnath tossed aside the mutilated limb, wiping his mouth with the back of his clawed hand.
"I was getting bored. Maybe these ones will actually put up a fight."
Alaric gritted his teeth, fighting down the burning fury threatening to cloud his judgment. He couldn't afford to lose control—not now.
"Sylvia," he said, forcing his voice to steady.
"Take Torren and handle that monster. I'll deal with the blade-wielder."
Sylvia hesitated for a second, concern flashing in her eyes.
"Don't be reckless," she warned.
Alaric just shot her a determined look.
"I won't. Just keep that brute off my back."
Sylvia gave a curt nod and turned to Torren.
"Focus on overwhelming him. His armor is thick, but there might be gaps we can exploit."
Torren growled in agreement, flames roaring hotter.
"I don't care what he's made of—I'm gonna burn him to ashes."
As they moved to confront Karnath, Alaric took a deep breath, centering his mind. He moved with purpose, his footsteps steady, his gaze locked onto Feydor.
The dark elf tilted his head, watching Alaric approach with evident amusement.
"So, you're the leader here? What a pitiful bunch... You couldn't even protect your pets."
Alaric gripped his dual blades, his knuckles white.
"You think this is a game?" he spat.
Feydor chuckled, his movements fluid and casual as he stepped down from the pile of corpses.
"Isn't it? Humans, dragons... they all fall the same way. Weak, breakable. Vealzaryon's legacy is nothing but dust now."
Alaric couldn't suppress the surge of hatred. He lunged forward, swinging his blades in a rapid cross-cut, aiming to cleave Feydor's head clean off. But the dark elf moved like liquid shadow, his form flickering and vanishing before reappearing behind Alaric.
"Too slow."
A vicious slash tore through Alaric's side, but he spun around, retaliating with a downward strike that barely grazed Feydor's shoulder. Blood sprayed out, but Feydor didn't even flinch. Instead, he licked the blood from his blade, a sadistic glint in his eyes.
"You've got spirit. I'll give you that. But spirit doesn't make you strong."
Meanwhile, Sylvia and Torren faced off against Karnath.
Sylvia summoned illusionary clones to circle the beast, each one appearing as a mirror image of herself and Torren. Karnath lunged, his claws cleaving through illusions as flame bursts struck his back.
Torren roared, his hands coated in searing fire as he launched fire lances at Karnath's joints, trying to burn through the chitin armor.
"He's too damn tough!" Torren cursed.
Sylvia's eyes narrowed, calculating.
"The gaps between the plates on his back—those are weak points. Aim for them!"
Karnath snarled and thrashed, his venomous claws gouging the ground and cracking the pavement.
"Insects! I'll crush every last one of you!"
Sylvia shifted the illusion to make it seem like the clones were converging on him, and when Karnath swung at them, Torren launched a concentrated flame beam right at the exposed spot. The armor cracked, and a burst of scalding steam erupted from the wound.
"Nice shot," Sylvia said, giving him a quick nod.
Torren grinned, sweat pouring down his face.
"A few more of those, and he's toast."
The air was thick with smoke and the scent of burnt flesh. Screams and the crackling of fire echoed through the devastated streets. Sylvia kept her mind razor-sharp, weaving illusions around Karnath with meticulous precision.
The beast thrashed violently, his massive claws ripping through the illusory clones as he roared in frustration. Every time he hit one, the image dissipated like shattered glass, leaving him snarling in confusion.
Torren circled from the side, sweat pouring down his face as he blasted fire lances at the gaps between the chitin plates. One hit dead-on, searing into the exposed muscle, and Karnath howled in agony, his massive arm recoiling from the pain.
"He's getting pissed," Torren muttered, wiping blood from his lip where debris had hit him earlier.
Sylvia shot him a quick glance, her eyes never leaving Karnath.
"Good. Keep aiming for the gaps. One mistake, and he'll gut us."
Rina stood further back, hands trembling as she reinforced the barrier spells around them, blocking the venomous claws that sometimes broke through the illusions.
"I... I can barely hold it," she whispered, her face pale and strained.
Sylvia glanced back at her, her expression firm but not unkind.
"Don't push yourself too far. Just keep the barriers up as long as you can."
"I... I'll do it," Rina replied, gritting her teeth.
Karnath suddenly lunged forward, his massive arm smashing into a nearby building, sending concrete flying like shrapnel. One stray chunk hit Torren's leg, making him stagger.
"Shit!" Torren cursed, the pain shooting up his thigh.
Sylvia's mind raced as she conjured more decoy clones, trying to draw Karnath's attention away from the injured Torren. The monster swung wildly, slicing through phantoms, but one claw nearly grazed Sylvia's side, cutting through her coat and drawing blood.
"Insects! I'll crush your bones to powder!" Karnath roared, venom dripping from his claws, eating through the pavement with a sizzling hiss.
"Keep moving!" Sylvia shouted, her breath quickening.
Torren forced himself up, using his uninjured leg to stay balanced, fire still crackling around his fists.
"He's gonna kill us if we don't end it soon."
Sylvia didn't answer, her mind churning with strategies. Every move had to be calculated—one slip, and they'd be torn apart.
Further up the street, Alaric and Feydor continued their vicious duel. Alaric's dual blades flashed in the dim light, but no matter how fast he moved, Feydor was always faster—his form slipping through attacks like liquid shadow.
Clang!
Alaric barely blocked a horizontal slash, but the force made his arm tremble. Feydor twisted around him, the tip of his other blade grazing Alaric's shoulder, drawing a deep gash. Blood splattered on the ground, and Alaric grunted, staggering back.
"Is that it?" Feydor sneered, his eyes glinting with malicious delight.
Alaric glared back, wiping the blood from his mouth.
"I'm not done yet."
He lunged again, unleashing a flurry of precise strikes, aiming for Feydor's joints and neck. But the dark elf was mercilessly efficient—parrying each attack with barely a flick of his wrists before delivering a brutal kick to Alaric's gut, sending him skidding across the ground.
Alaric coughed up blood, his ribs burning like fire.
"You're not even worth the effort," Feydor taunted, wiping his blade clean.
Alaric pushed himself up, gasping for breath.
"The hell I'm not... I'm the Vice-Captain of the Black Dragons. I'm not dying to some... shadow-wielding freak."
Feydor didn't even blink, his face a cold mask of disdain.
"You don't understand strength. You're a speck of dust. A worthless human who doesn't even know his own weakness."
He vanished again, reappearing behind Alaric and slashing his back open, deep enough to cut through muscle. Alaric roared in pain, stumbling forward but refusing to fall.
"Just give up and die," Feydor whispered into his ear, before kicking him down to the blood-soaked pavement.
Alaric's vision blurred, but he gritted his teeth and slammed his hand against the ground, pushing himself back up.
"Not... yet," he muttered.
Feydor clicked his tongue.
"You really want to die that badly? Fine."
He lunged forward, his blades a whirlwind of shadowfire, cutting into Alaric's sides, shoulders, and thighs—merciless, calculated strikes meant to cripple and maim. Blood gushed from each wound, staining the ground beneath him.
"Still on your feet? Impressive."
Feydor slammed his palm into Alaric's chest, sending him crashing into a crumbling wall. The impact shattered the bricks but he was not finished . The wind howled through the devastated streets of Shizumi, carrying the acrid stench of burning flesh and blood. Smoke rose from shattered buildings, blotting out the stars, and the once-proud heart of the city was now a graveyard of mangled bodies and scorched ruins.
Alaric spat blood from his mouth, struggling to hold his ground as Feydor approached, his steps slow and almost bored. The dark elf's twin blades gleamed under the dim light, dripping with the blood of fallen dragons and shattered warriors.
"Still standing?" Feydor sneered, his crimson eyes narrowing.
Alaric wiped his mouth, forcing his legs to hold steady.
"I'm not going to die here... not to a bastard like you."
Feydor grinned, his teeth sharp and wicked.
"You're amusing, I'll give you that. But your little dream of standing tall—"
He sheathed his blades, stretching his neck with an audible crack.
"—let's see how long that lasts when I rip it from you with my bare hands."
Before Alaric could react, Feydor was on him—an unholy blur of speed. A fist smashed into Alaric's ribs with bone-crunching force, the impact lifting him off his feet. His ribs cracked like dry twigs, and a sharp, searing pain exploded in his chest.
He hit the ground hard, but before he could even gasp, Feydor's boot came down on his spine, grinding him into the pavement.
"You thought just because you screamed a little louder that you'd be stronger? Idiot."
Alaric twisted, slashing upward with his blade, but Feydor caught his wrist mid-swing and snapped it backward with a sickening crunch. Alaric bit down a scream, his vision flashing white from the pain.
Feydor yanked him up by the broken arm, grinning like a predator.
"You think a mangy dog like you can stand in my way?"
He swung Alaric like a ragdoll, slamming him into a crumbling wall. The force cracked the concrete, and Alaric felt his shoulder dislocate, his arm hanging uselessly at his side. His vision swam, but his legs stayed rooted to the ground.
"Still on your feet?!" Feydor barked, almost in disbelief.
Alaric coughed, blood trickling from his lips, his jaw clenched with sheer defiance.
"The Black Dragons... don't bow... to scum like you."
Feydor scoffed and closed the distance with a bone-shattering kick to Alaric's stomach, making him double over and retch blood. Feydor followed up with a brutal knee to the face, breaking his nose and sending his head snapping back.
The agony surged through his skull, but Alaric fought it back, his mind flashing to a distant memory—Hakan his fearless grin burning into his mind.
"Get up, Alaric. If you're not dead, you're still fighting."
The words hit him harder than any blow, and his hands clenched around his swords, even as his fingers trembled.
"You're pitiful," Feydor taunted, landing a spinning elbow that shattered Alaric's jaw.
He stumbled but didn't fall, glaring back at Feydor with fury blazing in his eyes.
"I said... I'm not done yet!"
Feydor's eyes flashed with irritation, and he grabbed Alaric by the collar, lifting him into the air.
"Enough of this pathetic display." He drove his fist into Alaric's gut with enough force to make the ground tremble, but Alaric only coughed and spat more blood onto Feydor's face.
The elf growled, wiping it away.
"You're just making this more painful for yourself."
He didn't stop. He drove his fists into Alaric's stomach, one after another, each blow like a sledgehammer pulverizing his ribs. Alaric couldn't even breathe, his entire chest feeling like it was caving in.
"Stay down!" Feydor roared, smashing a knee into Alaric's chin.
He staggered, vision blackening, but his legs refused to buckle.
"Being strong isn't just about power. It's about standing tall when everyone else has fallen."
Hakan's voice. Clear as day.
Feydor snarled and headbutted him, splitting his forehead open and sending a stream of blood down his face. Alaric's legs wavered, but he forced them to lock. His eyes, half-swollen shut, never left Feydor.
In his mind, he saw Sylvia, standing tall despite the fear.
"You're strong, Alaric. You just don't realize it."
He saw Torren, laughing like a maniac, always pushing forward.
"Let's burn this world together!"
He saw Rina, nervously smiling as she reinforced the barrier.
"I-I'll protect you! I promise!"
They were his family. They were his responsibility. He couldn't just collapse.
"I... will not... live in his shadow..." Alaric whispered, every word drenched in blood and resolve.
"What was that?" Feydor leaned in mockingly.
"I... will become stronger... than even him. I'll protect them all."
Feydor laughed and dropped his guard, shaking his head.
"You're serious? You're half-dead and still spouting dreams."
Alaric steadied his breath, gritting his teeth through the agony.
"Maybe. But I'm not... backing down."
Feydor's patience snapped, and he rushed forward, landing a series of rapid punches to Alaric's face and ribs. Each hit echoed like thunder, but Alaric wouldn't fall.
His nose was broken, his cheekbone shattered, his ribs splintered into his lungs, but his hands remained on his blades—still ready to fight.
Blood soaked the ground where Alaric stood, his breathing a ragged mess of coughs and gasps. His vision was blurred, and his legs felt like cracked pillars, ready to collapse at any moment. Every inch of his body screamed in pain—broken ribs grinding together with each breath, blood pooling in his mouth.
Feydor wiped the thin line of blood on his cheek, his expression twisting with pure contempt.
"You just don't know when to die, do you?" He stomped forward, each step purposeful and unhurried.
Alaric forced his trembling hands to tighten around his blades, his knuckles bone-white and slick with blood. He tried to lift them, but his muscles refused to obey, pain shooting through his arms.
"I... won't... kneel..." he managed to whisper, more to himself than to Feydor.
Feydor just snorted, kicking one of Alaric's blades out of his grip.
"This isn't strength, human. This is just plain stupidity." He looked down at Alaric, eyes glinting with disdain.
"You thought you could protect this city? Protect your precious little friends? Look at you now—a broken mess. How do you think they'll remember you? A pitiful failure who tried to act tough."
Alaric gritted his teeth, forcing himself upright again, but Feydor's foot crashed into his knee, bending it backward with a sickening pop. He screamed, collapsing to the ground, his leg twisted and mangled.
"Pathetic," Feydor sneered, grabbing Alaric by the collar and dragging him through the rubble like a discarded corpse.
"You're just a stepping stone. A second-rate warrior trying to fill a real leader's shoes. Face it—you're nothing without him."
Alaric's head lolled back, his consciousness flickering in and out, but his mind was racing.
"Why... why am I so weak? Why can't I be like him... like Hakan...?"
He thought of Sylvia, always cool and confident, leading the others when his spirit wavered. He thought of Torren, never backing down from a fight, always burning brighter than anyone.
And then he thought of Rina, the youngest among them, always smiling despite her fear, always trying to prove herself.
"Why am I the weak one...? Why can't I protect them...? Why can't I be like Hakan?!"
The faces of Shizumi's people flashed through his mind—their hopeful smiles when they rebuilt the city. The faith they put in Hakan, the Black Dragons, the belief that they could never be touched as long as Hakan was their protector.
But in their minds, Hakan was the only one who mattered.
The rest were just supporting cast—weak, replaceable.
"Why can't I be like him...? Why am I so weak...?"
Feydor dropped him, kicking him in the ribs and sending him skidding across the ground like a crumpled rag. He walked over calmly, placing his foot on Alaric's head and grinding it into the dirt.
"Still breathing? You're even more pathetic than I thought. Can't even die right."
He pressed harder, forcing Alaric's face into the broken pavement.
"Your little friends... your pathetic guild... they're only holding on because of Hakan's name. Without him, you're all just insects scrambling to survive."
He twisted his boot, and Alaric could feel his skull creaking under the pressure. He tried to move, but his body wouldn't listen anymore.
"You're a disgrace to the name of the Black Dragons. Just die and make room for real warriors."
Alaric forced his hand to move, trying to grab Feydor's leg, but the dark elf laughed and kicked him onto his back, cracking his ribs with the force.
"Weak. Weak. WEAK!" Feydor shouted, his face contorted with rage and amusement.
Just as Feydor raised his blade to end it, a shimmering barrier erupted between him and Alaric. The blade bounced off with a loud crack, and Feydor stepped back in surprise.
"What—?"
"S-Stay away from him!"
Rina stood there, trembling, her hands stretched out to maintain the barrier. Her breathing was ragged, but her eyes were filled with pure determination.
"I won't let you... hurt him anymore!"
Feydor sneered.
"Oh? The little brat wants to play hero now?"
Before she could react, Karnath's massive arm swung at her from behind, the razor-sharp claw slicing through her back. Blood sprayed out, and Rina's body arched backward as she crumpled to the ground with a pained scream.
"RINA!" Sylvia shouted, but she was too far away, still grappling with Karnath's massive arms alongside Torren.
Alaric's heart sank—a cold, suffocating despair clamping down on his chest. Rina lay motionless on the ground, blood pooling beneath her.
Feydor knelt down next to Alaric, gripping his hair and forcing his head to face her.
"Look what you've done. Your little family's breaking apart because you're too weak to protect them. She's bleeding out because of you."
Alaric's lips trembled, tears mixing with the blood on his face.
"Rina... no..."
Feydor leaned closer, his voice a venomous whisper.
"This is your fault. You tried to act strong—tried to stand tall like some powerhouse . But this is the reality, . You're just a pathetic shadow playing at being a hero. Your friends are dying because you weren't strong enough."
Something snapped inside Torren. The sight of Rina lying motionless, her blood staining the ground, shattered his restraint.
"You son of a BITCH!" he roared, flames exploding from his body like a blazing inferno.
He lunged at Karnath, his fists wreathed in fire so intense it melted the concrete under his feet. He hammered into Karnath, striking with wild, unrestrained fury.
"YOU THINK YOU CAN JUST WALK IN HERE AND KILL OUR FAMILY?! I'LL BURN YOU TO ASHES!"
Karnath staggered under the onslaught, but his armor held firm. He swung back, his claws slicing through the flames, but Torren didn't even flinch—he took the hit to the shoulder and kept throwing punches, driving Karnath back step by step.
"Torren! Stop! You're being reckless!" Sylvia yelled, but even she couldn't stop him.
Feydor looked back at Alaric, still crumpled on the ground, and sneered.
"You're just a disappointment. Your comrades are falling apart, and it's all because of you."
He raised his foot and stomped down on Alaric's chest, making him cough up more blood.
"See that? That's how fragile your little family is. One push, and it all crumbles."
He raised his blade, ready to end it.
"Die knowing you were never strong enough to be worth remembering."
Before he could strike, a massive void pulse tore through the air, and a heavy foot slammed into Feydor's chest, sending him crashing through the ruins of a nearby building. The force of the impact shook the ground, leaving a crater where Feydor landed.
Raiden Jin stood over Alaric, his dark armor reflecting the chaos around them, void energy pulsating from his frame. He glanced down at Alaric, his face stoic but fierce.
"You've done enough. Rest."
Alaric could only stare blankly, his mind numb from pain and failure, before his consciousness finally gave in, and his body fell limp.
The dust from Feydor's impact still hung in the air, cracks spreading out from the crater where Raiden Jin had kicked him. Alaric lay motionless on the ground, his breath shallow and his body mangled.
Raiden stepped forward, his presence like a solid wall of intimidation, void energy pulsating with each slow, calculated movement.
"Kara," Raiden said, his voice as calm as ever, but with an undercurrent of controlled fury.
"With me."
Beside him, Kara Voss, his vice commander, nodded, a cold and calculating look in her eyes.
"Understood," she replied, void energy already gathering in her hands.
Meanwhile, in the chaos of the ruined street, Torren's flames burned hotter and wilder, licking at the buildings and searing the ground black. His face was twisted in pure fury, eyes blazing with unrestrained violence as he struck at Karnath over and over, the force of his blows leaving cracks in the creature's chitin armor.
"I'LL BURN YOU TO ASHES!" Torren roared, his fists moving in a relentless barrage, but Karnath merely grunted and retaliated with a devastating swipe that sent Torren crashing into a collapsed car.
The metal crumpled under his weight, but Torren didn't feel it—didn't care. He staggered to his feet, flames igniting along his body like a living inferno.
"You killed her... YOU KILLED RINA!"
Karnath just grunted, shaking off the lingering burn marks.
"Pathetic little flame. You'll die just like the rest."
Before Karnath could advance, a whirlwind struck him from the side, slicing through his armor with razor-like wind blades. He stumbled back, roaring in frustration.
"Who dares?!"
"Keep your claws off my people!"
Kaede Arashi descended from above, her storm-charged aura crackling like a tempest, hair whipping around her face. She raised her hand, and the air crackled with static, gathering power.
"Wind Blitz!"
A concentrated bolt of lightning shot forward, striking Karnath square in the chest. The impact scorched his chitin, forcing him to retreat a few steps.
Torren snarled, attempting to charge forward, but Kaede landed in front of him, her hand pressing against his chest to hold him back.
"Calm down, Torren!" she snapped.
"Get out of my way, Kaede!" he growled, flames surging violently.
"You'll die if you keep going like this," she said firmly, her eyes locking onto his.
"I DON'T CARE!" Torren roared, but Kaede didn't budge.
"If you die, then who will protect the city? Think, dammit!"
Torren hesitated, his flames wavering, and Kaede used the moment to cool his rage.
"If you throw your life away now, Rina's sacrifice will mean nothing. Stay sharp. We're not done yet."
Behind them, Kaito Oshima, Kaede's vice commander, directed the rest of the Tempest Vanguard to sweep through the area.
"Nanae, set up Thunderclap Shields around the perimeter!" he ordered.
Nanae nodded, slamming her hands into the ground as lightning barriers sprang up around the area to protect civilians from stray attacks.
"Shiori, Yuto, find survivors and tend to the injured!"
"Roger!" they responded in unison, moving through the wreckage with speed and efficiency.
Feydor pulled himself from the rubble, wiping dust from his face. A wicked grin curled his lips as he straightened, cracks lining his armor where Raiden's kick had connected.
"That was unexpected," he mused, stretching his neck with an audible pop.
Raiden leveled his gaze at him, his eyes unreadable.
"You're in my territory now, wretch."
Feydor scoffed, but his fingers flexed with irritation.
"And who the hell are you supposed to be?"
Raiden didn't bother answering, his void energy flaring up around him like tendrils of darkness. Kara stepped to his side, her hands aglow with absorptive energy.
"Let's finish this quickly," she stated calmly.
Feydor grinned wider.
"Oh, you think you can take me? I'm just getting started!" He lunged forward, moving like a blur of shadow and fury.
Raiden raised his hand, a void pulse exploding outward and warping space itself, sending Feydor spiraling to the side. Kara darted forward, her hands catching the residual energy from Feydor's own attack and redirecting it as a blast of raw force.
Meanwhile, Karnath recovered, his claws tearing through the air as he lunged at Kaede and Torren. Kaede raised her hand, summoning a tornado to blast him back, but Karnath braced himself and pushed forward through the wind, his eyes blazing with fury.
"Stubborn insect!"
Kaede gritted her teeth, weaving through his attacks and unleashing lightning arcs to force him back.
"Torren! Focus your flames on his joints when I lock him down!"
Torren nodded, regaining some of his composure.
"Got it!"
Further back, Shiori and Yuto moved quickly, finding Rina's motionless body amid the rubble. Nanae rushed to them, activating her Thunderclap Shield around the area to fend off stray attacks.
"She's bleeding out!" Shiori shouted, her hands trembling as she assessed Rina's wounds.
"Stay calm," Yuto said, using Cyclone Vortex to sweep debris away from her.
Nanae knelt beside Rina, her hands glowing faintly with electrostatic energy, trying to stimulate her heart to keep her breathing.
"Rina, hang on! You're going to be okay!" Nanae urged, voice strained.
Rina's eyes barely fluttered, her breathing shallow and ragged.
Feydor growled, blood dripping from his lip as he wiped his face.
"You think you can keep up, freak?"
Raiden said nothing, simply raising his hand as void tendrils lashed out, warping space around Feydor. The dark elf dodged left, but Kara was there to meet him, slamming an energy-absorbed fist into his side and blasting him back into Raiden's range.
Raiden clenched his hand into a void sphere, his gaze unflinching.
"Voidbreaker Pulse."
The sphere detonated, compressing the air and warping gravity, dragging Feydor back into the explosion. The dark elf hit the ground hard, struggling to rise as Kara loomed over him, hands aglow.
"You're fast," Kara remarked, her voice calm and cold.
Feydor glared up, his pride burning hotter than his pain.
"You're just some overgrown bully. I'll carve you to pieces."
Raiden stepped forward, void energy gathering like a black star in his palm.
"Try it. You'll just break against the void."
Alaric lay motionless, his battered body barely clinging to life. He couldn't feel his limbs—his consciousness teetered on the edge of darkness. He could still hear Rina's faint breaths, each one a knife to his heart.
"I failed... I'm weak... I couldn't protect anyone..."
The city still burned around him, and all he could think of was how far he fell from being the protector he dreamed of becoming. As his vision finally faded, he couldn't help but wonder:
"Why couldn't I be stronger... like Hakan...?"
The battle raged on, but the heart of the Black Dragons had been broken.
The storm raged around them, lightning crackling through the dense smoke as Kaede Arashi, Sylvia, and Torren regrouped, forming a tight formation against Karnath. The monster's massive claws dripped with viscous, venomous fluid, his eyes blazing with primal fury as he advanced.
Torren wiped blood from his mouth, his flames still flickering despite his injuries.
"This bastard... He just won't go down!"
Sylvia stood firm, breathing hard but keeping her eyes locked on the target.
"We need to hit him simultaneously—he can't handle a coordinated strike."
Kaede nodded, her eyes fierce as wind and static surged around her, creating a swirling storm vortex.
"Then let's finish it. Torren, draw his attention. Sylvia, prepare your illusionary barrage. I'll hit him with a concentrated strike once you create the opening."
Torren cracked his knuckles, flames surging around his fists.
"You got it. I'll burn him down to the bones!"
Torren charged head-on, flames bursting from his feet as he propelled himself forward like a blazing comet.
"HEY, UGLY! OVER HERE!"
Karnath roared and lunged, but Sylvia conjured a wave of illusionary clones, making it appear as if Torren split into multiple fiery specters.
The monster swung wildly, smashing through clones, but the real Torren darted under his guard and unleashed a searing fire lance directly at the cracked joint from before.
The lance struck true, and the armor splintered open, revealing raw, pulsating flesh.
"NOW!" Kaede shouted, raising both hands as the storm above converged into a single point, forming a colossal lightning spear.
"Thunder Break!"
The spear hurtled down, crashing directly into Karnath's exposed joint. The bolt pierced through the armor, sending electric currents surging through his entire body. The beast howled in agony, his movements becoming erratic and sluggish.
Sylvia didn't let up, creating dozens of illusionary Torren clones, all charging forward in unison.
"Keep hitting him! Don't let him recover!"
Torren rushed forward, flames erupting from his arms as he pummeled the cracked armor, each hit sending shards of chitin flying. Karnath thrashed and roared, trying to shake them off, but Kaede sent howling gusts of wind to knock him off balance, keeping him in place.
Karnath swung his massive claw, but Sylvia conjured a phantom wall, causing his strike to miss entirely.
"You can't even hit us anymore," she taunted, keeping her focus razor-sharp.
With one final surge of power, Kaede unleashed a burst of lightning that wrapped around Torren's fists, amplifying his attack as he delivered a devastating uppercut to Karnath's jaw.
The beast reeled, his jaw shattering, venom splattering as he staggered back, barely able to hold himself upright.
"He's almost done!" Torren shouted, flames licking at his shoulders.
Kaede steadied herself, eyes blazing.
"One more push! Sylvia, create an opening!"
Sylvia nodded and conjured illusions of Kaede and Torren charging from every direction. Karnath lashed out, swiping at shadows while the real Kaede summoned a lightning vortex that blasted him skyward.
Torren jumped into the air after him, engulfed in raging flames.
"Infernal Comet!"
He smashed down from above, his flaming strike colliding with Karnath's head, crushing it into the pavement. The ground shattered, and Karnath lay still—finally defeated.
On the opposite side of the battlefield, Feydor struggled to his feet, wiping blood from his mouth with a twisted grin.
"That bastard Alaric... What a waste of life," he spat, glaring at Raiden.
Raiden's expression remained unchanging—cold, stoic, and indifferent.
"He was your Vice-Captain, right? What a pathetic excuse of a leader," Feydor sneered.
Raiden didn't respond, simply advancing, void energy swirling around his fists.
Feydor continued, his grin widening.
"He couldn't even protect his own guildmates. That little girl? Oh, she's as good as dead because of him. Weak, pathetic, and undeserving of the title."
Raiden's steps paused, his gaze shifting to Alaric's bloodied body and the still form of Rina lying nearby. Something burned behind his calm demeanor—something deadly.
"Kara," he said firmly.
She looked at him, sensing the shift.
"Take Alaric to recovery. Heal him."
Kara hesitated, noticing the tension in his voice.
"Are you sure?"
Raiden shot her a cold, piercing glance.
"Now."
Without another word, Kara moved to Alaric's side, gently lifting his battered body and signaling her team to cover them as they moved to safety.
Feydor sneered at Raiden's silent stance.
"What, feeling guilty for that piece of trash? Face it—he's not worth your time. Weak men die. That's just reality."
Raiden's eyes narrowed, the void energy around him warping the ground itself.
"Alaric... is not weak."
Feydor scoffed.
"Are you joking? He got beaten like a dog. Even his friends almost died because of his incompetence."
Raiden's grip tightened.
"You know nothing. Alaric has been holding Shizumi together in the absence of his captain. He's been protecting his guild and city without faltering. He never let fear consume him, and he kept fighting to the end. That... is something I respect."
Feydor rolled his eyes.
"Respect? For a loser who couldn't even stand against me? Don't make me laugh."
Raiden's void energy surged, creating a black rift in the air, swirling with condensed power.
"I do not tolerate disrespect toward those who earn it. Alaric never gave up. He held the city's hopes on his back and kept moving forward. You mock his spirit... but your words hold no weight. You're nothing but a coward who hides behind power and terror. That ends now."
Feydor scoffed, clearly unfazed.
"You think you scare me? I'll carve you apart just like I did him."
Raiden's voice dropped to a dangerous growl.
"Fool. You overestimate yourself and underestimate those who fight with resolve. Allow me to show you the difference between us."
Raiden's void energy intensified, warping space around him as he unleashed a surge of gravitational force, causing the ground to collapse inward. Feydor felt his body compress under the crushing pressure, struggling to breathe as Raiden advanced.
"You will know your place—beneath the weight of your own arrogance," Raiden declared.
He clenched his fist, and a black sphere formed, pulling everything around it toward the center with a horrifying force.
"Voidbreaker Annihilation."
The sphere erupted, consuming space itself, dragging Feydor's body into a vortex of pure annihilation. He screamed, his form being crushed and distorted by the void energy, his flesh disintegrating bit by bit.
Raiden watched dispassionately as Feydor's scream faded, the vortex erasing his existence.
"I will not forgive anyone who disrespects the resolve of a protector."
As the vortex faded, Raiden stood unflinching, the air around him eerily silent—the echo of his power still resonating through the broken city.
The ground was scorched and cracked from the sheer intensity of Raiden's Voidbreaker Annihilation, wisps of dark energy still swirling in the air like remnants of a collapsing star. Raiden lowered his hand, his expression unchanging as he surveyed the area.
A faint sound—like tearing fabric—echoed through the ruined street. Raiden's eyes narrowed, his senses picking up on an unsettling presence.
From the shadows, a distorted mass of darkness slowly reformed, congealing into the shape of Feydor. His body twisted and reformed, flesh knitting itself back together in a grotesque display of regeneration. His eyes burned with fury, teeth gritted in a feral snarl.
"You... think you've won...?" Feydor hissed, his voice trembling with rage and pain.
Raiden didn't react, merely observing the spectacle as Feydor struggled to stabilize his form.
"You think... I'm done... just because of that?!" Feydor shouted, slamming his blades into the ground to support himself.
His muscles bulged unnaturally, his aura flaring with a dark crimson hue. His skin seemed to crack and pulse, veins glowing as his power spiked.
Raiden raised an eyebrow.
"You survived that? Impressive. But your anger is pointless. It only blinds you further."
Feydor let out a primal roar, his rage boiling over. He lunged forward with blinding speed, his blades slashing through the air, aiming to tear Raiden apart.
Raiden calmly sidestepped the first strike, then leaned back to avoid the second slash, which carved a deep trench into the ground. Feydor spun like a whirlwind, his blades moving with deadly precision, each swing creating arcs of shadow energy that ripped through the surrounding debris.
Raiden didn't move from his spot, effortlessly parrying and sidestepping each attack.
Feydor snarled, his frustration mounting.
"Why won't you DIE?!"
He thrust his blades forward in a cross pattern, trying to trap Raiden's head between them, but Raiden merely tilted his head aside, the blades missing by a hair's breadth.
Feydor roared and unleashed a barrage of thrusts and slices, moving at speeds that would have shredded any normal opponent. But Raiden's body moved with economical precision, avoiding each strike with the bare minimum of movement.
Finally, Raiden caught one of Feydor's wrists mid-swing, gripping it tightly.
"You're blinded by anger. That's why you're predictable."
Feydor's eyes widened, and he tried to break free, but Raiden twisted his arm behind his back with brutal force, eliciting a sickening pop as the joint dislocated.
"You talk too much," Raiden stated coldly, driving his knee into Feydor's spine, making the dark elf howl in pain.
Raiden spun him around, delivering a devastating elbow to the jaw, sending Feydor skidding across the ground.
Feydor barely managed to rise, blood pouring from his mouth, one arm hanging limply at his side. He bared his teeth and rushed in again, slashing wildly, his movements growing more desperate and erratic.
Raiden effortlessly parried with his forearm, then slammed his palm into Feydor's chest, creating a shockwave of void energy that blasted the dark elf backward.
Feydor tumbled across the ground, rolling to a stop as he gasped for breath.
"You think I'm weak?!" he screamed, his voice raw with frustration.
Raiden calmly approached him, his steps measured and unhurried.
"Your power is unstable. Your movements are reckless. You're not even trying to fight—just thrashing like a wounded animal."
Feydor let out a choked laugh, wiping the blood from his lips.
"You think you're superior just because you're calm? You think that makes you better?!"
Raiden's gaze didn't waver.
"Calmness has nothing to do with superiority. It's about efficiency. Your rage is wasteful."
Feydor howled and lunged again, his blade aimed at Raiden's throat. Raiden didn't flinch, instead shifting his stance and catching the blade between his forearm and bicep, stopping it cold.
"What?!" Feydor gasped.
Raiden tightened his grip, snapping the blade with a simple twist.
"You never had a chance. Your anger has made you weak."
Raiden delivered a crushing uppercut to Feydor's stomach, causing him to double over, then followed up with a hammer fist to the back of his head, sending him sprawling face-first into the dirt.
Feydor coughed and spat blood, dragging himself upright once more.
"I... I'll kill you! I'll tear you apart!" he screamed, his face contorted with madness.
Raiden sighed.
"You're a fool. You can't even stand properly."
Feydor lunged one last time, aiming his remaining blade at Raiden's heart.
Raiden caught it effortlessly, gripping the blade itself with his bare hand, void energy corroding the metal until it crumbled to dust.
Feydor stared in shock, his body trembling.
"No... NO! I WON'T LOSE!"
Raiden placed his palm against Feydor's chest, his gaze icy and unyielding.
"Disappear."
The void energy surged forward, consuming Feydor's entire torso. Half of his body was obliterated instantly, flesh and bone disintegrating into nothingness.
Feydor gasped, staggering backward, his remaining arm twitching. His torso was gone, half his face melted away, his organs exposed and quivering.
He looked up at Raiden with one remaining eye, pure terror and disbelief etched into his ruined features.
"How... how could I lose... to a nobody like you...?"
Raiden didn't even spare him a glance.
"Your strength was hollow. A loud bark with no bite. You insulted the resolve of those who fight for their comrades. That is unforgivable."
Feydor's legs buckled, and he collapsed to the ground, his body slowly disintegrating from the void corruption. His one remaining eye glazed over as his life faded, the hatred never leaving his face.
Raiden straightened his coat, brushing dust from his shoulder. Kara approached from behind, having ensured Alaric was being tended to.
"It's over," she said calmly.
Raiden gave a slight nod.
"Make sure the survivors are stabilized. I don't want to see any more of them dying."
Kara nodded and moved to assist the healing teams.
Raiden glanced at the broken city around him, his mind still processing the reckless resolve Alaric had shown.
"You pushed yourself too far," he murmured, almost as if speaking to Alaric even though he wasn't there.
"But at least you never gave up... That's why I respect you."
With one last look at where Feydor had fallen, Raiden turned his attention to the others. He knew this wasn't the end—just another step in a growing storm.
The storm had settled, and the evening air hung heavy with the scent of scorched earth and blood. The streets lay in ruins, and the scattered remains of Feydor and Karnath were little more than ash and broken chitin. The battle had ended, but the aftermath weighed down on everyone's shoulders.
Raiden Jin stood in the middle of the rubble, his armor chipped and void energy slowly dissipating around him. Kaede Arashi approached, brushing soot from her sleeves, her gaze sweeping over the ruined district. The rest of their guild members moved through the streets, searching for survivors and guiding the injured to safety.
Torren was propped up against a crumbling wall, his arms bandaged, grumbling at the medics fussing over him. His fire had finally simmered down, but his expression was still twisted with anger and regret.
"Damn it... I couldn't protect them... I couldn't protect Rina..." he whispered, his knuckles white from gripping the ground.
Sylvia leaned against a half-collapsed structure, wiping blood from her forehead as she watched the cleanup efforts. Her illusions had flickered out the moment Karnath fell, and now exhaustion was catching up to her.
She didn't even notice Raiden approach until his massive shadow loomed over her.
"You're injured," Raiden stated plainly, his deep voice cutting through the stillness.
Sylvia gave a weak smile, pushing herself to her feet.
"Just some cuts and bruises. I've had worse."
Kaede walked up as well, her sharp eyes narrowing as she assessed the damage.
"You did well holding the line. If you hadn't stalled them, there would've been nothing left to save."
Sylvia's smile faltered, and she glanced back at where Rina and Alaric had been taken.
"I don't feel like we did enough... If it weren't for you two, we'd all be dead."
Raiden didn't immediately respond, his gaze drifting to the scattered remnants of the dead dragons—Hakan's loyal warriors, slain and left to rot.
"It's not a matter of doing enough. It's surviving when survival seems impossible."
Sylvia didn't seem convinced, but she kept her emotions in check.
"Thanks... for saving us. We'd have been wiped out without you."
Kaede crossed her arms, glancing between Sylvia and Raiden.
"You guys usually don't struggle this much. Was it just because those two were too strong, or...?"
Sylvia hesitated, biting her lip.
"It's not just that. We're... we're scattered. Without Hakan, we're not the same. Alaric's been trying to hold it together, but..."
Her voice trailed off, and Raiden's sharp gaze remained fixed on her.
"Where is Hakan?" Kaede asked, her tone gentle despite the direct question.
Sylvia's shoulders tensed, and she looked down, her hands clenching into fists.
"We don't know. After coming back from pakistan , he vanished. No one's seen him since. Alaric's been keeping us moving, but... people talk."
Raiden raised an eyebrow.
"Talk?"
Sylvia nodded, her face grim.
"They say the Black Dragons are done for. That without Hakan, we're just a name. Alaric... he's been dealing with all of it—trying to live up to Hakan's legacy. I... I don't think he ever forgave himself for not being strong enough to fight alongside him."
Kaede's gaze softened.
"That's why he pushed himself so hard... even though he wasn't ready for that level of battle."
Raiden remained silent, his mind piecing it together. Alaric had been fighting not just enemies, but the expectations of a city—the burden of being the Vice-Captain of a legendary guild.
Kaede placed a firm hand on Sylvia's shoulder.
"You guys did everything you could. Don't put all the blame on yourself. It's not fair to Alaric either—he's been carrying way more than he should."
Sylvia looked away, biting back her emotions.
"I know... It's just... we all miss him. Hakan was the one who kept us together. Without him, it feels like the whole world's falling apart."
Raiden gave a slight nod.
"Hakan is more than just strength. He's a symbol to the people here. It's natural that his absence would create doubt."
He looked directly at Sylvia.
"But Alaric hasn't given up, even if he's breaking inside. He knows the responsibility he carries. You shouldn't let his efforts go unrecognized."
Kaede agreed.
"Alaric's fighting for the city and for you guys. A leader's not always the strongest—it's the one who doesn't give up when everyone else falls. And he's proven that today."
Nearby, Torren grumbled as the medics finished bandaging his arm. He forced himself up despite their protests and limped over to where Sylvia and the others were gathered.
"Hey... is she gonna be okay?" Torren asked, trying to sound nonchalant, but his voice cracked.
Sylvia smiled softly.
"Rina's tough. She'll pull through. She always acts like she's small and fragile, but she's stronger than any of us give her credit for."
Torren clenched his fists, swallowing his guilt.
"If I'd just been stronger... if I hadn't lost my cool... maybe she wouldn't be—"
Kaede cut him off.
"Stop it. Blaming yourself won't change what happened. Focus on getting stronger instead of beating yourself up."
Torren didn't respond, but the words seemed to reach him. He wiped his eyes, refusing to let the tears fall.
"I just... don't want to lose anyone else..."
From the distance, helicopters arrived, carrying more medical teams and support staff. Alaric and Rina had already been loaded onto stretchers, their vital signs being monitored closely.
Raiden looked on, his face unreadable as he watched Alaric's unconscious form being lifted into the chopper.
Kara approached and gave a quick report.
"Alaric and Rina are stable, but critical. They need better facilities than we can offer here. I'm coordinating transport to the best hospital in the region."
Raiden nodded.
"Good. Make sure they receive priority care."
As the helicopters ascended, Raiden looked back at the ruined city.
"We'll start cleaning up the damage," Kaede said.
Raiden nodded.
"Let's make sure the people know it's over. They need reassurance."
Sylvia took a deep breath, finally allowing herself to relax just a bit.
"Thank you... both of you. We couldn't have done this alone."
Raiden gave a subtle nod.
"Strength doesn't lie in fighting alone. It's in knowing when to rely on others."
Kaede smirked.
"Wise words coming from the guy who usually fights solo."
Raiden didn't respond, simply folding his arms and watching the flickering fires in the distance as the city began to calm down.
The battle was over, but the scars would take much longer to heal—physically and emotionally. As the Black Dragons' surviving members regrouped and took stock, one thing was clear:
Even without Hakan, they were still standing.
And for now, that was enough.