"Which flavour, sweetheart?" the woman asked, her voice already forgotten by the world.
The child raised her arm, her finger extended toward the pistachio. "That—"
BOOOOOOOOM!
The blast didn't knock them down. It unmade them standing.
The woman's eardrums burst first, wet and silent. She saw her daughter's clothes ignite—not catch fire, but become fire, fabric and flesh indistinguishable in the white heat.
The child's pointing hand was stripped to bone in half a second. The finger bone glowed like a candlewick, still aimed at what she wanted, still demanding even as the skull beneath her burning hair cracked open and cooked.
The woman reached for her daughter's shoulder. Her own fingers fused to the child's melting flesh, two bodies becoming one scorched statue.
She watched the child's eyes boil in their sockets. The fluid ran down ashen cheeks. The jaw unhinged, dropped away, and revealed blackened teeth in a permanent scream.
Then came the collapse. Not bodies anymore—just carbon, grease, and bone fragments, settling into a silhouette on the concrete.
The woman's remains fell last, draping over the smaller pile, still trying to shield what was already dust.
[15 Minutes Before]
[Inside the Stadium]
"He became the general yesterday, yet he managed to book the biggest stadium in America, The Meridian Bowl. He is definitely someone worth respecting," one soldier said from the crowd.
"...But from my perspective, that is not the reason to respect him. Rather, I am seeing a million seats in this stadium, and not a single one is vacant for anyone to sit," the soldier beside him said.
"That is what I call the work of a very respectable person."
"But why would he call this many soldiers into the only air-packed stadium in America, and one this big?" the soldier asked.
"That is a topic of discussion, but one thing is certain: the General didn't call us here to party. There must be a very big motive, but then this question of 'what' is also a problem." The soldier scratched his head.
"If you do the thinking for him, what will he do? Just have some faith in the General; when he arrives, every question will have its answer," another soldier said.
"ATTENTION SOLDIERS, THE GENERAL HAS ARRIVED," the announcement echoed.
SNAP! SNAP! SNAP! THUD!
Every soldier bowed to Magatsu's presence as he walked right through them, showing how much they respected him, but the soldier standing right beside the entry door didn't bow.
"You must have mixed the gas with the environment way beforehand, as per my order," Magatsu said in Morse code to the last soldier.
"But first, did you check whether or not the air is escaping the stadium in the first place?" Magatsu said again in Morse code.
"All checked, sir. The gas was released as per your orders," the Morse code soldier responded in Morse code.
Magatsu entered the stadium and walked directly to the centre. But the person who entered the stadium wasn't just Magatsu Varkax; it was the second 6-Star General of America.
The General didn't turn around to see the whole stadium; he picked up the mic and started his speech.
"Soldiers...
Today you stand before the man this world has decided to call a general.
They believe my duty is to protect this nation. To defend its borders. To win its wars. They are mistaken.
A General does not merely defend history.
Sometimes...
He decides where history begins. And 'he' in this sentence refers to me, Magatsu Varkax.
Look around you.
A million people.
A million lives.
A million different dreams.
Yet when tragedy visits your home... it never asks your name.
It doesn't care what god you worship.
Which language you speak.
Or what blood runs through your veins.
Suffering has never divided us.
We did that ourselves.
We built borders!
We built hatred!
We built walls so tall that we forgot they were our own creation."
"Hey, I think the odour that's been here since we entered this stadium is giving me a problem breathing," a soldier said in a low voice.
"Shhh! Be a man and don't throw a tantrum. I am having the same problem, but let's just hear the General for now," the other soldier whispered.
Magatsu continued,
"Then we blamed fate...
We blamed God...
We blamed one another...
for the prisons we built with our own hands.
But prisoners are not the disease. They are only the symptom.
Every plague has an origin. Every darkness has a source.
BLASPHEMY.
It is the curse that has followed humanity through every age... promising us that division is natural... that inequality is inevitable... that peace is impossible.
Today...
I reject that lie.
I give all of you, all my soldiers, all my brothers present here, a single motive."
(Magatsu took a long silence.)
"Destroy Blasphemy.
And when it falls...
no child will inherit hatred...
no nation will inherit fear...
no man will be born believing another stands above him.
I have heard people say...
'God is dead.'
Maybe he is. Or maybe heaven has waited long enough for humanity to save itself.
If God will not give us a purpose...
Then I will.
Tomorrow...
Whether you curse my name... or bless it.
Whether history remembers me as mankind's greatest monster... or its greatest savior...
Makes no difference.
Because by the time the sun rises again..."
(As the speech came to an end, Magatsu put a cigar in his mouth.)
"The old world will already be dead."
(Magatsu lit his cigar with a lighter.)
"Mors Omnia Solvit."
(Death solves everything.)
"Which flavour, sweetheart?" the woman asked, her voice already forgotten by the world.
The child raised her arm, her finger extended toward the pistachio. "That—"
BOOOOOOOOOOM!
The stadium exploded with a force beyond anything anyone had ever seen.
Everything inside it was erased in an instant. The blast tore through the ground, ripping apart everything in its path as a massive wall of dust spread for over five kilometers.
No one caught within that range survived.
The heat was unbearable. It swept across the city, shaking buildings and burning everything it touched. By the time the dust settled, the city was gone... and so were the people who called it home.
Tick... tick... tick...
It took more than five hours for the conditions to normalize enough for the rescuers to enter the city and look for the miracle of a survivor.
WHUP! WHUP! WHUP! WHUP!
There was not enough space or safe conditions for more than one helicopter, and not enough hope left to justify sending more.
"Sir, we have arrived, but we can't see anything," a rescuer said into the tactical headset.
"I don't care, just enter it. Inside that fog is our General; he is a VVIP," another voice came from the other side.
"Even if we enter, we will find his ashes, nothing more..." he was interrupted as the voice disconnected.
"Damn it, go inside the fog."
As the helicopter tore into the fog, no one could see anything, but suddenly, they started to see something glowing. As they followed the source, they saw a single person sitting on a chair in the middle of the ruined city, taking a drag from his cigarette: GENERAL MAGATSU VARKAX.
Shhhh...
The fog started to clear away, revealing soldiers who were trying to stand. They were all alive, but completely naked and covered in black dust from the blast.
The glowing source the rescuers had followed to reach this point was coming from their stomachs.
"General, you are fine!!" the rescuer said. "But how?"
He scratched his head.
"That's not the question," Magatsu said calmly.
"The real question is—" He was cut off.
"Why are their guts glowing?!" one of the rescuers yelled. "And... how are they all still alive?!"
Listening to the rescuer's words, a slow smile spread across Magatsu's face.
"Have you ever seen what tiger cubs do after tasting blood for the first time?" Magatsu asked, letting the silence linger.
"They hunt."
STOMP! STOMP! STOMP!
GRRMMMMM…
The earth trembled.
A million naked soldiers, armed with their newly awakened flux, surged forward like a tidal wave, charging everything in their path.
AT THAT MOMENT THEY KNEW:
EARTH IS A CAGE FOR BIGGER BEASTS, AND HUMANS ARE JUST PREY.
"But my cubs won't hunt mindlessly; they will all hunt with a single motive of making the world equal for all," Magatsu said as he held the severed head of the rescuer.
"And to," Magatsu said, stepping on the dead bodies. He lifted the rescuer's head, "Kill the Blasphemy."
[Academy Corridor]
"What are you even looking out of the window for? As far as I can see, there is nothing except clouds," Arashi said, approaching Zorian.
"Nothing, I just thought someone was remembering me," Zorian said, turning towards Arashi.
"Did you find your sensei to train for the Apex Convergence? 'Cause I am going to ask Vance," Arashi said.
"I completely forgot about it, but this means this is our last meeting for now, right?" Zorian said, making a sad face.
"Yes, it is completely true that this is our last meeting before the Apex Convergence. We will meet after six months now," Arashi said plainly.
"Ah! I feel like something is separating from me, even though I never got enough time with you and Vance sensei..." Zorian fell into a long silence, his face dark, but just as Arashi was about to comfort him—
"But the next time we meet, I will show you the gift I got returning from death and defeat you!" Zorian declared.
"..." Arashi was shocked by the sudden shift, but then he smirked.
"Oi, oi! Don't be so sure about it. I haven't lost a single fight since I was six," Arashi said.
"That is because I wasn't there," Zorian giggled.
"By the way, what's in your hand?" Zorian asked.
"A newspaper. Haven't you seen a newspaper before?" Arashi mocked.
"Not one like that, and I've never heard of THE ARCANE HERALD before," Zorian said, taking the newspaper from Arashi's hand.
"'Cause only an arcanist has access to it, and it is published for arcanists only," Arashi said, looking out of the window.
"But what is this? Our photos? The Crucible of Three anddddd... What!!!?" Zorian's eyes became the size of dinner plates. "Why do they want you dead and me alive?"
"Ah! Zorian, what happened in Osaka... they call it the Crucible of Three. And about 'dead' and 'alive'..." Arashi took a pause. "It tells you how dangerous a person is to fight. 'Dead' means avoid engaging in a fight with me," Arashi smirked.
"Oh my god, what a good explainer you are! Are you the Genius of the Dark, or the genius of excuses?" Zorian teased Arashi.
"Who are you to even say that, 'The Crowned Anchor'?" Arashi unleashed his blade just a centimeter from its scabbard.
"Oh! Arashi, don't do that, it's very scary," Zorian raised both of his hands, revealing his manacles.
Both stepped closer to each other and...
Giggled.
"Ah!" Zorian groaned in pain.
"Are you ok?" As Arashi raised his hand to check on Zorian, his own forearm tore open and started bleeding.
"HAHAHA! I think it is permanent for both of us. The doctor said many of my organs were taken as a cost that can't be restored or healed, so I will have to carry these injuries to my grave," Zorian said.
"But I am sad for you. You already had nothing—empty nail beds, no left eye, these marks, and now this arm." Zorian's face lost all its colour saying this.
"It is not even that bad. It is still working, but the only drawback I face is that I can't use any of my attacks," Arashi said, looking down at his hand.
"What? You can't use any attacks with flux? But I am sure you are a master in raw swordsmanship," Zorian asked in shock.
"Yes, every attack I made that was powerful enough to bend reality has torn through my biology. I can't use any of them, and I don't consider myself a master of raw swordsmanship," Arashi said.
"Just because of your body, right? It is a good thing I never made any attacks with Judicium Eternis; otherwise, I would have suffered the same fate," Zorian said.
"I can't use it 'cause of my excess power and lifespan drains, but why can't you?" Arashi asked.
"As I said before, you won't believe me, but mostly it's the same as yours: excess energy drain. But now I feel that the old Zorian is dead. This is a new Zorian with permanent organ damage," Zorian giggled.
"With that Zorian, I think the old Arashi also died, and this new no-left-hand—I mean damaged-left-hand Arashi—is reborn," Arashi giggled as he said it.
"Oh! Then this is the best moment. Have you heard Mors Omnia Solvit (Death solves everything)? Now that we are starting at zero, where do you want to start from?" Zorian asked excitedly.
"I think the idea isn't bad. So, to correct my mistake from the past—I never had a single name for my fighting style—we should start right there," Arashi said plainly.
"Ok then, remember this. From today onwards, your fighting style will be known as Musō (Peerless)," Zorian said, smiling.
"Where did you get that name? Also, you didn't tell me we were giving each other names, and now I can't be in your debt. So, from today onwards, I entrust you with your fighting style, which will be 'GUREN' (Crimson Lotus)," Arashi smiled.
"I don't know, but who cares. The next time we meet, we will be a minimum of ten times stronger," Zorian said.
DAP!
THEIR FISTS MET FOR THE LAST TIME BEFORE THEY WALKED AWAY IN OPPOSITE DIRECTIONS...