The prison was burning.
Not entirely.
Not yet.
But enough to make every breath feel like a battle.
The air was thick, saturated with ash and soot. Every inhale scraped at the throat, every exhale drained a little more strength. Flames clung to the wooden structures like starving parasites, racing along beams, devouring anything they could consume.
The crackling of fire formed a constant backdrop, blending with the screams.
Cries of pain.
Cries of rage.
Cries of freedom.
The slaves were no longer silent shadows. They had become a tide. A raw, violent force… but something in the way they moved suggested more.
They struck together.
Coordinated.
Maybe instinctively.
Or maybe not.
"PUSH THEM BACK!"
"THERE'S TOO MANY!"
"FALL BACK! FALL BACK!"
The guards tried to hold their lines, tightening their formations under pressure. Steel clashed against steel, blades collided, but their movements lacked fluidity.
They were reacting.
They were no longer in control.
And in a place like this, that was already defeat.
Something was wrong.
They all felt it.
Too much precision in the chaos.
Too many coincidences.
As if every burst of violence had been placed exactly where it needed to be.
As if…
This was all part of a plan.
At the heart of that inferno—
Two figures stood facing each other.
Aeryn.
Selara.
Around them, the world seemed to slow, as if even chaos refused to interfere with their duel.
A chain cut through the air.
A sharp, almost living whistle.
CLANG.
Selara raised her dagger just in time, but the force pushed her back. Her boots scraped against the scorched ground, leaving a dark trail behind.
"…tch."
She straightened immediately, her eyes sharp with cold clarity.
Always analyzing.
"You're not holding back at all…"
Aeryn didn't answer.
Words were unnecessary.
She attacked again.
Her chains spread out, fast, unpredictable. They weren't just weapons. They lived. They writhed, shifted angles, struck from impossible directions.
Selara dodged.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
She bent low, slipped under a strike, pivoted, and counterattacked.
Her dagger shot straight toward Aeryn's flank.
A perfect opening.
But—
A chain snapped forward.
Wrapped.
Tightened.
Her wrist was caught.
"What—?!"
PULL.
Her body was yanked forward, thrown off balance. The distance between them vanished instantly.
Aeryn stepped in.
And struck.
A direct blow, no hesitation.
Selara took it.
The impact echoed through her bones, but she refused to fall. She slid back, heels grinding against the floor, then forced herself upright.
"…fast…"
A smile formed on her lips.
Not a joyful one.
A dangerous one.
"But not unbeatable."
She vanished.
Not truly.
But fast enough to escape the eye.
A step.
A breath.
Then—
She reappeared at Aeryn's side.
Her blade flashed.
Aeryn twisted, barely avoiding a fatal hit.
A thin cut opened along her arm.
Blood surfaced.
Red.
Alive.
Aeryn stepped back.
No panic.
No emotion.
Just recalculation.
Selara gave her no time.
She pressed forward, faster, sharper. Every strike aimed at something vital. Throat. Artery. Tendon.
"You really think…"
CLANG.
Chains intercepted the blade.
"…you're going to win?!"
Aeryn didn't answer.
But this time—
Her chains changed.
They didn't just block.
They wrapped.
Around the blade.
Around the arm.
Around Selara herself.
"It's already done."
Her voice was low.
Calm.
Terrifying.
She pulled hard.
Selara lost her balance.
A fraction of a second.
Enough.
Aeryn spun her chain, building momentum—
And struck.
The blow sent Selara crashing to the ground.
The impact shook the stone.
Selara rolled, tried to rise—
And stopped.
On her knees.
Breathing hard.
Her body trembling.
Blood ran down from her forehead, tracing her cheek.
But her eyes—
Still sharp.
Still dangerous.
She slowly lifted her head.
And laughed.
A weak laugh.
But real.
"…Marcellus…"
A broken breath.
"…knew."
Silence fell between them.
Aeryn didn't move.
But something in her gaze shifted.
"Long before you even started."
The fire crackled.
The screams went on.
But here—
Everything was suspended.
Then—
A smile.
Cold.
Sharp.
On Aeryn's lips.
"And yet…"
She turned away.
As if the fight was already over.
"…he will fall."
One step.
Then another.
"Just like you."
She turned her back.
A mistake.
Always a mistake.
Selara clenched her teeth.
Her body screamed.
Her muscles resisted.
But her will—
Refused even harder.
Her fingers tightened around her dagger.
One last chance.
She leapt.
Silent.
Invisible.
Deadly.
Her blade aimed for Aeryn's neck.
Perfect.
Unavoidable.
But—
A shadow moved.
A black flash.
A presence.
A blade.
Just one.
Clean.
Precise.
Selara stopped.
Her eyes widened.
Too late.
Then—
Her body fell.
Lifeless.
Silence.
Real this time.
The man in black straightened slowly, his blade dripping with blood. No wasted movement. No visible emotion.
"Please forgive our delay, Madame."
Aeryn turned her head slightly.
A brief glance.
"Acceptable timing."
Two more figures emerged from the shadows, their presence heavy despite their silence. They bowed slightly.
"Madame."
Respect.
Discipline.
Perhaps… fear.
"The area is secured."
"Good."
Another stepped forward.
"We have checked the key points."
A pause.
Short.
"But we did not find Marcellus."
The world slowed.
Again.
Aeryn narrowed her eyes.
"…what?"
"No trace of him, Madame."
The flames still danced.
The screams still echoed.
But suddenly… none of it mattered.
Selara's words resurfaced.
He knew.
Aeryn closed her eyes slightly.
Then—
"…I see…"
A breath.
Barely there.
"…then he's waiting for us."
---
Deep below—
Far from the flames.
Far from the visible chaos.
Ryuji stood.
Or tried to.
His legs trembled, threatening to give out at any moment. Every muscle in his body screamed for rest.
But his hand—
Remained steady.
In his palm—
The core.
Red.
Burning.
Pulsing like a heart.
Alive.
He looked at the golem before him.
Still.
Silent.
Defeated.
"…it's over…"
His voice was weak.
Almost unfamiliar.
Then—
A whistle.
Sharp.
Short.
THUD.
His body froze.
"…gh…"
Pain.
Sudden.
Cold.
An arrow.
Buried in his back.
His breath left him.
Blood began to flow.
Warm.
Slow.
Inevitable.
Ryuji turned his head.
Centimeter by centimeter.
As if even that was too much.
And he saw them.
At the entrance.
Marcellus.
Standing.
Still.
Untouched.
Surrounded by guards.
His gaze—
Locked onto the core.
Always.
A smile formed on his lips.
Not mocking.
Not cruel.
Worse.
Admiring.
"Well, well…"
He stepped forward.
One step.
Then another.
Measured.
Controlled.
"…the survivor."
Silence fell.
Heavy.
Crushing.
Ryuji gritted his teeth.
His body swayed.
But his hand—
Refused to let go.
The core pulsed.
Once.
Twice.
As if responding.
To something.
Or someone.
And this time—
Ryuji understood.
Everything that had happened.
All the chaos.
All the blood.
Was only part of the game.
And him—
Just a piece.
The real battle—
Was only just beginning.