The world trembled.
A deep rumbling spread across the tunnel as a vast domain unfolded, swallowing everything within hundreds of meters. Space distorted. Light bent. Reality itself seemed to hesitate.
At the center stood Lucas.
His eyes burned gold.
Far away, beyond the collapsing space, Kart watched, his feathers flickering with unease. He did not move. He understood.
This was not a place he could enter.
Far above, in a silent hall of thrones…
Feather sat calmly, watching.
Seven figures surrounded him, their forms cloaked in shadow. Only their eyes were visible, faint and cold.
"It seems," Feather said softly, "he finally used it."
A voice scoffed.
"He's the weakest among them."
Another laughed coldly. "Don't let your own talent blind you. Not everyone masters power in three years, genius."
Silence.
Then—
A presence descended.
"Enough."
The voice was heavy. Absolute.
"I will not repeat myself."
The room froze.
Even the shadows seemed to kneel before him.
A figure rested a massive blade against his shoulder, his gaze sharp enough to cut through the void itself.
Feather smiled faintly.
"It appears… he has destroyed the illusion."
A softer voice spoke, almost amused.
"Then the final step begins."
Back in the tunnel—
The loop shattered.
The endless repetition collapsed like broken glass, revealing something Lucas had not seen in what felt like years.
Light.
Real light.
But the moment it touched him—
Blood flowed.
From his eyes.
From his mouth.
His body trembled violently.
He had forced the power.
He had not mastered it.
The world shifted.
Lucas stood on a long bridge stretching into nothingness. Kart stood beside him, silent.
Ahead—
A massive gate.
Gold and black steel intertwined, ancient and absolute.
Lucas pushed it open.
Beyond it…
Something waited.
"...You're still here, Charles."
The voice was tired.
Lucas blinked.
The world changed.
A hospital room.
White walls. Cold air. Machines humming.
Two men stood beside a bed.
On it… lay a boy.
Lucas.
Smaller. Younger. Still.
"I don't believe it," Dante said, his voice strained. "He's seven now… and he still hasn't woken up."
Charles adjusted his glasses, calm as ever.
"It's… abnormal."
Suddenly-
The boy's body convulsed.
A scream tore through the room.
Blood leaked from his eyes. From his mouth.
"Doctor!" Dante shouted, panic breaking through.
Charles didn't move.
"Relax."
Dante turned, furious. "What do you mean relax?!"
Charles's gaze sharpened slightly.
"He's fighting."
"…What?"
"Inside his own mind. I don't know how… but it's the only logical explanation."
Dante fell silent.
He didn't understand.
But Charles… was never wrong.
After a pause, Charles spoke again.
"Any news about the Ashen Killer?"
Dante exhaled slowly.
"Ten more piles of skulls. Northern border."
Charles nodded slightly.
"As expected."
"Let's continue this elsewhere."
----------------------------------------------------
Reality snapped.
Lucas was back.
And something stood before him.
A knight.
Towering. Silent.
Its armor was forged from pure light, glowing with unbearable intensity. In its hands rested a massive warhammer, heavy enough to crush mountains.
It had been waiting.
For a long time.
Lucas blinked-
And it was already in front of him.
The hammer came down.
Lucas blocked.
For a moment.
Then-
Impact.
His body was sent flying, crashing through stone. Before he could breathe, the knight was already upon him. Fists. Kicks. Relentless. Precise. Each blow carried crushing force.
No pause. No mercy.
The hammer rose again.
And slammed him into the wall.
The structure cracked. Then shattered.
The knight grabbed his head and dragged him through stone like it was nothing before throwing him across the chamber.
Lucas struggled to stand.
The knight was already charging.
Lucas moved.
A single punch.
The knight stepped back.
Silence.
Then-
Lucas laughed.
A low, broken laugh.
"Hey…"
He wiped blood from his mouth.
"You don't know something about me."
His eyes sharpened.
"In every fight… I only need seven minutes."
A pause.
"Seven minutes to adapt."
His grip tightened on the Sword of Hell.
"After that… you're done."
He sliced his palm without hesitation.
Blood flowed onto the blade.
The sword screamed.
Power surged violently.
Every life he had taken… every battle… every death…
All of it fed the blade.
Lucas moved.
A burst of energy erupted forward, crashing into the knight with devastating force. Dust filled the air, swallowing everything.
Silence.
Lucas exhaled slowly.
"…It's over."
Then-
A step.
From within the dust.
The knight emerged.
Unharmed.
No-
Not unharmed.
Changed.
The armor was gone.
Standing there was a man.
Long golden hair. Pale face.
Marks beneath his eyes.
Familiar.
Too familiar.
Lucas froze.
The man looked at him calmly.
The last piece of his mask shattered and then Lucas knew him
it was lucas itself but a pale version of him.