The deeper they moved into the Black Iron base, the more the world seemed to empty out.
Footsteps echoed too clearly. Torches burned too steadily. Even the air felt still—like it had been told not to move.
Ishimo walked ahead without hesitation, hands in his pockets, posture loose. Thomas followed a step behind, shoulders tight, eyes constantly shifting.
They stopped in front of a door.
It towered over them—smooth, black, untouched. No markings. No handle. Just a presence that pressed against the chest the longer you stood near it.
Thomas swallowed.
"This is the place… this is where the boss is."
Ishimo glanced around the empty corridor, unimpressed.
"Why's it so quiet here?"
Thomas let out a dry breath. "What do you mean? That's your fault… and that Tomora kid."
Ishimo paused for a second, then nodded casually.
"Ohh… yeah. My bad."
The silence that followed stretched thin—
Then a voice slipped through the door.
"Enter. It's not polite to keep guests waiting outside."
It wasn't loud.
But it didn't need to be.
Ishimo smirked slightly. "What a welcoming voice you've got, Subastian."
A pause.
"Ah… Ishimo Natal. The one with the… unusual element."
Ishimo tilted his head. "Oh? You remember me?"
A faint chuckle echoed from within. "Of course. Faces like yours tend to leave a mark."
Ishimo scratched the back of his head. "Careful. You're starting to sound like you admire me."
The air shifted.
"After all… you and your little friend exposed my plans… and slaughtered a large portion of my men."
Ishimo exhaled lightly. "Yeah… about that. My bad. Again."
Thomas glanced at him, disbelief flickering across his face.
The voice sharpened slightly.
"So tell me, Ishimo… why are you here?"
Thomas stepped forward instinctively. "Sir, he said he wants to—"
"Silence."
The word didn't echo.
It pressed.
The air itself seemed to tighten, forcing the breath out of Thomas's lungs. His body locked in place.
"Let him speak for himself."
Thomas lowered his head immediately. "Sorry, sir."
Ishimo didn't even look at him.
"I'll tell you," he said calmly, eyes fixed on the door, "if you let me in."
For a moment, nothing happened.
Then the door slid open.
Slowly.
Darkness waited on the other side.
"Enter."
Ishimo stepped in without hesitation.
Thomas followed.
The door closed behind them with a soft, final sound.
Inside, the room felt… wrong.
Too large. Too quiet. Too empty.
Faint light revealed the outline of a figure seated far ahead—but the shadows clung to him, hiding everything that mattered.
Ishimo stopped a few steps in.
Cuppy rested on his shoulder, fast asleep, completely undisturbed.
"I want to train you."
The words landed clean.
No hesitation.
No fear.
For a second—
Nothing.
Then Subastian moved.
"Oh? You slaughter my people… and now you offer to train me?"
His hand lifted slightly.
And the room came alive.
From the walls, from the shadows, from places that hadn't existed a moment ago—figures emerged. Black Iron agents lined the space in perfect formation, bows already drawn.
Hundreds.
Every arrow aimed at Ishimo.
The tension snapped tight.
Thomas's breath caught.
Ishimo glanced around once, unfazed.
"I should warn you," he said, voice light, "I can't die."
A pause.
Then—
"We'll see."
The air dropped.
Not louder.
Not heavier.
Just… lower.
Like something unseen had taken control of the space itself.
For the first time, Ishimo's eyes sharpened slightly.
Then he tapped his shoulder.
"Cuppy. You up?"
A small stir.
"prrr…"
Cuppy blinked awake, stretching lazily.
"Take care of them."
The dragon leapt.
Midair—its body expanded.
Metal stretched. Wings unfolded. Light shattered across its chrome scales as it grew—larger, larger—
Until it filled the entire space above them.
A mountain of living metal.
Its wings spread once.
The pressure hit instantly.
The ground trembled. The air cracked outward. Some of the agents staggered—just slightly—but enough.
The arrows wavered.
A low, mechanical growl rolled through the room.
Silence followed.
Then—
"Impressive."
Subastian's voice hadn't changed.
Didn't rise.
Didn't shake.
"Full of surprises… Ishimo Natal."
Ishimo didn't look up.
"Don't call me by my name. I'm older than you."
A faint shift in the shadows.
"How old are you?"
Ishimo shrugged. "Old enough to have met Kazul."
The room froze.
Even the air seemed to hesitate.
"…That's impossible."
"Two hundred years ago," Subastian continued, voice quieter now. "Kazul founded Black Iron two centuries ago."
Ishimo tilted his head slightly.
"Two hundred?" He let out a soft breath. "Huh… guess time moves differently here."
A pause.
"In my world… it's been five thousand."
Nothing moved.
Thomas stared at him, eyes wide, trying to process what he had just heard.
"Your… world?" Subastian asked.
Ishimo waved it off. "Don't worry about it."
Then he looked up.
"Cuppy. Come down. You're gonna catch a cold."
The massive dragon paused—
Then shrank.
Rapidly.
Wings folding, body compressing until it dropped lightly back onto Ishimo's head, curling up instantly.
"prrr…"
And just like that—
It was asleep again.
The room stayed silent.
But the balance had changed.
The arrows were still drawn.
The agents still ready.
Subastian still hidden in shadow.
Yet something had shifted beneath it all.
For the first time—
Neither side was certain how this would end.
And somewhere in the darkness—
Subastian smiled.