Zin stood in the midst of the towering shadow figures. The one who caught his attention was the one with the blue eyes. They radiated a dark mist which masked the surroundings in darkness so when Zin stood within it he was no longer visible to the team around him.
The darkness was thick, almost alive, swallowing sound and light alike. Even the wind seemed reluctant to pass through it.
He closed his eyes.
Then he blinked.
In the next moment he appeared above the darkness, descending like a falling star. He landed crashing down with a thunderous boom, the impact raising a storm of dust that burst past the veil of darkness.
The ground trembled.
For a moment the world vanished in a cloud of debris.
The dust slowly settled and the darkness began to clear.
Pom's eyes opened wide in awe.
Zin stood there with traces of lightning crackling around him, small arcs snapping across his armor and sword. The earth beneath his feet had cracked outward like a spiderweb.
Most of the nether creatures were gone.
Only two remained.
“What is this person?” the Nether King muttered, puzzled.
The Nether King with the blue eyes observed quietly. His expression remained calm but his thoughts churned.
He had not fully recovered from the fight with Euen, the giant king. That battle had drained him more than he would ever admit.
Still…
This young elf unsettled him.
His instincts screamed danger every time Zin moved.
Not fear.
But something very close to it.
A loud laughter echoed through the scene.
Slow.
Mocking.
Then came a round of applause.
Zin shifted his head slightly, looking sideways. His eyes narrowed before he turned toward Pom.
Pom understood immediately.
Without hesitation she picked up Ephini, who was still unconscious, and dashed in the opposite direction of where the laughter echoed from.
Her footsteps vanished into the trees.
Silence followed.
Moments passed, tension tightening the air until even breathing felt heavy.
Then a figure emerged from the shadows.
A masked man.
He wore a pristine butler's suit as though he had arrived at a banquet rather than a battlefield.
Dark miasma radiated from him like smoke rising from a corpse.
“A demon,” Zin muttered.
His expression darkened.
“What are two demigods doing here?” he pondered before slowly drawing his sword.
The masked man tilted his head slightly.
Amused.
The two sized each other up for a moment as the wind slowly died down around them.
The forest itself seemed to retreat.
Then they clashed.
The impact cracked the air like thunder.
Zin was pushed back several steps, his boots grinding against the dirt.
The Nether King remained where he stood, simply observing the fight.
He had no intention of interfering.
If he moved against the elf now, something deep within him whispered that it might spell the end for him.
Yet he couldn't leave either.
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Zin's gaze constantly flickered toward him.
A silent warning.
After a few exchanges Zin's expression turned sour.
His attacks were swiftly dodged or countered. The masked man's movements were precise, almost playful.
Zin inhaled slowly and closed his eyes.
Inside his chest he felt the seal tighten around his heart, gripping it like iron chains. Only a thin stream of mana was allowed to escape.
He sighed.
Then he raised his sword.
The blade began to glow a faint red.
He blinked once more and swung.
The masked man's eyes sharpened behind the mask. He raised a mana shield instantly.
He had sensed something wrong the moment the sword changed color.
The blade struck.
The shield shattered like glass.
The masked man slid back across the ground.
Then Zin struck again.
And again.
Each clash drove the masked man further back. Cuts began appearing across his suit, dark blood staining the fabric.
“If this continues…” the masked man murmured.
He chuckled softly.
“Hmm… perhaps a little wouldn't hurt.”
As Zin approached again he raised his hands.
A massive pool of miasma erupted outward.
It swallowed the battlefield instantly.
The air turned cold and heavy.
Zin felt his mana recoil as if something were forcing it backward.
He withdrew the energy from his sword and wrapped it around his body instead.
His aura pushed against the miasma like a flame struggling against suffocating smoke.
Then he frowned.
He could not see the masked man's face.
But he could feel it.
The man was smiling.
Then Zin noticed something else.
The Nether King had vanished.
His presence had disappeared completely.
More troubling still—
He felt Siel's presence.
“Could it be…?” Zin whispered.
His expression darkened.
Then the forest went silent.
The town went silent.
The silence was unnatural.
A rumble followed.
Then screams.
Then a roar that shook the sky.
And finally—
Pressure.
Zin suddenly gripped his chest.
His face twisted between anger and terror.
His seal was reacting violently to the pressure filling the air.
Strange red mana spread across the sky like a bleeding wound.
It was too much.
Too sudden.
Then Zin turned toward the masked man.
“What have you done?” he roared, his mana surging violently.
The masked man tilted his head.
“Hmm… seems he had more left than I thought.”
He slowly rolled his shoulders.
“I suppose I must be serious now.”
The playful tone vanished.
His hair drifted slightly as dark energy gathered around him.
Then he rushed forward.
Zin thrust his sword.
The masked man twisted aside.
Slash.
Counter.
Strike.
The two figures blurred across the battlefield as steel and mana collided repeatedly.
They danced through the ruined ground again and again.
Yet Zin could not break through.
The seal held him back.
Then suddenly—
A punch struck his guard.
The force pushed Zin sliding back several steps.
“Damn it,” Zin thought.
“I can't even get past him.”
He gripped his chest tightly.
It felt as though invisible hands were squeezing his heart.
Both aura and mana shared the same origin.
The heart.
For warriors and mages alike, power was not merely trained.
It was grown.
To “expand one's heart” was the principle behind true strength.
But Zin's heart had been sealed long ago.
Restricted.
Deliberately.
Zin's expression darkened.
For the first time—
He looked desperate.
Once more the forest fell silent.
Then a blinding flash erupted in the distance.
A trail of fire tore across the sky toward the town.
“Magic—No!”
Zin's eyes widened.
Something about that attack felt horribly familiar.
A name surfaced in his mind.
His anger surged.
But the stronger his anger became, the tighter the seal crushed his heart.
Blood trickled from his eyes.
Then from his ears.
Then from his nose.
He bit down hard on his lip to remain conscious.
“Oh… interesting,” the masked man remarked.
Watching Zin struggle brought him a strange satisfaction.
He walked closer slowly.
Zin's strength faded as his heart continued tightening.
His breath grew shallow.
Finally he collapsed onto his knees.
His vision was drowning in red.
The masked man approached calmly.
Zin tried to stand.
His body refused to move.
“I suppose the deed is done,” the masked man said casually.
He walked past Zin without another glance.
Heading in the direction Pom had fled.
“Curse you… Mizin… Curse you… C…yx…”
Zin's voice faded.
Then darkness swallowed him.
The smell of burning filled the air.
Thousands of embers drifted through the sky like fireflies.
Gilly froze.
Zenora stood beside her trembling violently as tears streamed down her cheeks.
Elnore was in ruins.
Flames devoured homes.
Smoke choked the sky.
And bodies—
Bodies covered the streets like fallen leaves.
As they walked slowly forward, the silence of the town felt heavier than the battle itself.
Zenora suddenly stopped.
Then she threw up.
Before them lay a dismembered corpse.
The armor was shattered.
The face barely recognizable.
But Gilly knew.
“Penre…”
Her eyes widened.
Zenora collapsed to her knees, sobbing.
More bodies lay scattered across the street.
Citizens.
Guards.
Friends.
Then footsteps echoed through the burning street.
Both girls froze.
A dark figure stepped out from the curtain of flames.
At first Gilly felt relief.
The silhouette was familiar.
Hope surged inside her chest.
Then despair crushed it.
The man walked closer.
In his hand—
He held a severed head.
Like a trophy from a hunt.
Gilly's expression hardened.
Anger slowly rose inside her.
Then she looked at the face.
Her breath caught.
It was Uyi. But something was wrong.
When the man tossed the head forward, conflict surged within her mind.
Zenora stumbled forward desperately.
“Oh—!”
She grabbed the head before it hit the ground and pulled it into her arms.
Tears poured down her face as she held it close.
“Oh…”
Her voice trembled.
“Oh that the world was cruel to you too…”
She clung to the final piece of Siel.
And the night burned around them.
Zenora clung to the final piece of Siel.
And the night burned around them.
For a moment nothing moved.
The fires crackled softly, consuming what remained of Elnore. The drifting embers painted the sky red, like a wounded sunset that refused to fade.
Gilly stood frozen.
Her hands trembled at her sides, fingers slowly curling into fists as rage and confusion twisted inside her chest.
Something was wrong.
Very wrong.
The air itself felt heavier.
As if the world were holding its breath.
Then—
Far above the ruined town…
Something opened its eyes.
A presence vast and silent lingered beyond the clouds, observing the burning city below.
Ancient.
Patient.
Interested.
The embers drifting through the sky suddenly changed direction, spiraling upward as though drawn toward an unseen force.
For a single moment the stars flickered.
And then the pressure vanished.
But the feeling remained.
As if something had noticed them.
Watching.
Waiting.
