The wind carried the scent of ash and blood across the Tatanka Plains. Darcy Rue's crocodilian head swiveled, her slitted pupils fixed on the chaos unfolding below. The massive serpent—Neku—coiled through the air like a living storm, his crystalline scales refracting rainbows the shattered sky. Marya's awakened form danced around him, her tri-split blade singing through the air, her nine reapers swirling like a flock of vengeful spirits.
Garrett Hasapis stood at the edge of the ledge, his lean, wiry frame coiled with tension. Stinger hummed in his grip, the assassin caterpillar fruit within the blade whispering silent promises of violence. His hazel eyes were fixed on the battle below, his expression unreadable. He pressed the receiver button on the transponder snail at his belt, his voice flat and commanding.
"Understood."
He hung up, pocketing the snail. His eyes never left the battle.
Garrett turned to the others, with the weight of command. "You know what to do."
Dracule Micah Aliter's yellow hawk-eyes were fixed on the battle below, his jaw tight, his knuckles white around Kogoroshi's grip. The heavy claymore—the blade that had been forged for death—hummed with dark energy. His blood-red waistcoat was torn across the shoulder, Thye's brand flickering into view under torn cloth and a thin line of blood traced from his temple down his sharp jaw. His expression was cold, unreadable.
Bovee Rin Ethanbaron's pale grey-blue eyes swept the battlefield with analytical accuracy. His dark charcoal jacket was scorched along the left sleeve, and his left-hand glove—the fingerless one he kept to maintain his calluses—was torn, revealing the hardened fingertips beneath. Shiten, his estoc, was in his grip, the blade tuned to a frequency only he could hear. He said nothing. He rarely did.
Marcella Vio Marcus's warm amber-brown eyes were fixed on the battle below, her auburn hair whipping around her face like crimson fire. Her cream-colored blouse was torn across the shoulder, and her rose-shaped brooch was cracked. Velo-Rose, her rapier, trembled in her grip. Her voice carried that warm mezzo-soprano quality, but there was an edge to it. "We're really doing this. Aren't we?"
Hao Silvera Shepherd's silver-white hair fell across his face, his deep brown eyes fixed on the chaos below. Harōshi, his arming sword, was coated in ash and something that might have been crystal dust. His voice carried that meandering, thoughtful quality that made everything sound like a meditation. "It's the only way. We all know that."
Micah's voice was flat, cold. "Let's go."
They disappeared.
---
The Tatanka Plains stretched beneath the shattered sky like a wound in the earth. The grass was scorched, the earth torn, and the air itself vibrated with the fury of the battle above. Marya's awakened form moved with fluid grace, her long raven hair dissolving into liquid void-stuff as she swung Nisshoku at Neku's massive form.
Neku dodged, his serpentine body coiling with the speed of a striking viper. His golden eyes swept the landscape, and for a moment, he paused. His massive head tilted, his crystalline scales like a stained glass in the shattered sun.
His voice boomed across the plains, wild and triumphant. "This sky... this is—"
He launched upward, his massive body surging toward the heavens. His roar shook the very foundations of the earth. "FINALLY! I AM FREE!"
The gust of wind left in his wake was a physical force, a wall of pressure that slammed into Marya and sent her tumbling backward. She hit the ground hard, her awakened form flickering as she shifted back to her human shape. Her leather jacket—the one with the Heart Pirates Insignia—was torn across the shoulder, and her long raven hair was matted with sweat and ash. She tightened her grip on Nisshoku, its crimson runes flickering.
She pushed herself up, her golden eyes—her father's eyes—fixed on Neku as he pushed toward the sky, toward the sun. His massive form was a silhouette against the blood-red and sulfur-yellow, a dark omen against the chaos of the shattered sky.
Marya's chest heaved. Her voice was flat, deliberate, but there was something else beneath it—a note of exhaustion, perhaps, or defeat. "Dammit."
---
Aurélie's boots pounded against the scorched earth, her silver hair streaming behind her like a banner. Atlas bounded beside her, his rust-red fur streaked with sweat and ash. Sanza's small frame darted between them, a blur of white and black. Bō-Zak's lean, wiry form moved with the languid grace. Kaburo's cold, stride carried him forward without wasted motion.
They had seen it—the gust of wind, Marya's fall, Neku's triumphant ascent. And they were running toward her.
Sanza's voice cut through the chaos, high-pitched and desperate. "BIG SIS!"
Marya looked over, her golden eyes finding the approaching figures. Her expression was guarded, stoic, but something flickered in her gaze—a recognition, perhaps, or relief.
Atlas's voice was taunting with a feral edge. "Is that it? Is that the big bad serpent we were supposed to be afraid of?"
Aurélie's steel-gray eyes shifted upward, tracking Neku's distant, snaking silhouette. Her voice was flat, deliberate. "Stay alert. This isn't over."
Marya opened her mouth to reply—
And then Sanza's voice cut through the chaos, sharp and desperate. "BIG BRO!"
Marya started to glance over her shoulder.
And then she gasped.
The sound was small, almost lost in the madness of the battlefield. But it carried. It carried across the plains, across the scorched earth, across the shattered sky. It was a sound of surprise, of betrayal, of something deeper—something that had been coiled in Marya's chest since childhood.
She looked down.
Kogoroshi's blade protruded from her middle, its iridescent white steel streaked with crimson. The heavy claymore—the blade that had been forged for death—had found its mark. The blood was hot against her skin, running down her body in rivulets that soaked her torn jacket and stained the earth beneath her feet.
Micah's voice was a whisper in her ear, cold and flat. "I never want to see you again."
Marya gasped again, a wet, ragged sound. Kogoroshi was wrenched from her body, and she stumbled forward, her hands clutching at the wound. Nisshoku clattered against the ground like an echo of the end, its crimson runes flickering and dying.
She collapsed.
The impact was jarring, the taste of blood and ash filling her mouth. Her vision blurred, the world swimming in and out of focus. She could hear shouting—Sanza's voice, desperate and broken—but the words were distant, muffled, as if heard through water.
Sanza reached her first. She could feel his small hands on her shoulders, shaking her, his voice rising to a shriek. "BIG SIS! BIG SIS!"
She tried to respond, but the words wouldn't come. Her chest was burning, the wound in her middle a furnace of agony. She could feel the warmth of her own blood pooling beneath her, soaking into the scorched earth.
Sanza's head swiveled, his red hair whipping around his face. His eyes found Micah's back, the God's Knight walking away without a backward glance. Sanza's voice rose to a desperate shriek.
"BIG BRO!"
Micah tilted his head, just a fraction, but he didn't turn around. His shoulders were rigid, his jaw tight, his knuckles white around Kogoroshi's grip. He had done what he had come to do. He had made his choice.
Sanza's fists balled, tears welling in his eyes. "WHY BIG BRO? SHE CAME HERE FOR YOU!"
Micah didn't turn. He didn't answer. He just kept walking, his boots carrying him toward the other God's Knights. Bovee, Marcella, Hao, Darcy, Garrett—they were waiting for him, their faces grim, their weapons ready.
Darcy's head swiveled, her slitted pupils fixed on the approaching figure. "It's done?"
Micah's voice was flat, cold. "It's done."
Garrett's hazel eyes swept the battlefield. "Then we go."
Above them, Neku's voice boomed across the plains, wild and furious. "BLASPHEMERS!"
The serpent dove, his massive body surging toward the God's Knights like a meteor. His golden eyes blazed with fury, his crystalline scales shimmering with the power of pure elemental transmutation.
A black magic circle activated beneath the God's Knights, its edges crackling with dark energy. The air around them shimmered, and then—
They were gone.
Neku's roar echoed across the plains, a sound of pure, unadulterated fury. "NOOOO!"
He hovered for a moment, his massive body suspended in the air, his golden eyes scanning the landscape for any trace of his enemies. Then his gaze shifted, fixed on the distant silhouette of Mary Geoise.
"The Great Mu," he muttered, with ancient hatred. "I will find you."
He turned his head back to Amiso, his golden eyes blazing. "But first, I will destroy this prison."
Neku arched his neck, drawing in a breath that pulled the very air from the sky. The clouds swirled above him, blood-red and sulfur-yellow churning together in a maelstrom of chaotic energy. Lightning began to strike, each bolt finding the earth with devastating force.
---
Aurélie dropped to her knees beside Marya, her silver hair falling across her face as she rolled the wounded woman over. Marya's golden eyes were glassy, unfocused, her breath coming in shallow, ragged gasps. The wound in her middle was a gaping hole, the blood flowing freely, soaking through her torn jacket and staining the earth beneath her.
Aurélie's steel-gray eyes met Marya's, and something flickered in her gaze—a recognition, perhaps, or a quiet, terrible understanding. She shook her head, her voice flat and deliberate.
"She's—"
Sanza whirled around, his red hair whipping around his face, his eyes blazing with desperate fury. "NO!"
His small hands flew to Marya's chest, pressing against the wound with a force that should have been futile. But then, he shifted to his hybrid form—a golden light began to emanate from his palms, spreading across Marya's body like warm water. The bleeding slowed, then stopped. The wound began to close, the edges knitting together with a soft, golden glow.
Sanza's voice was a whisper, desperate and broken. "You can't die. You can't. You're—you're the only one who—"
Aya's voice cut through, gentle but urgent. "Yuma!"
Yuma Dasan was already there, his hybrid form a lean, powerful silhouette. His golden antlers glowed with a soft, warm light, and his dark, solemn eyes were fixed on Marya's wound. He knelt beside her, pressing his glowing hands to her stomach, his voice soft and melodic.
"The grass remembers. And so do I."
The golden light spread from his hands, merging with Sanza's healing aura. The wound closing, the skin knitting together with a smooth, unbroken surface. Marya's breath steadied, the color returning to her cheeks…
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