The Summit sprawled before them, fractured and chaotic, a monument to the violence that had clawed through it. Stones jutted at odd angles, cracked and splintered, while pylons lay toppled, blackened, scorched, their surfaces etched with the marks of fights long past. Hollow patches of scorched earth punctuated the terrain, smelling faintly of burnt ether and iron. The sun had climbed higher, painting the jagged ruins in sharp gold and shadow, but it could not chase away the lingering chill, the kind that crept in after an Omega passed through.
Shun and Xin moved carefully across the broken ground, boots crunching over shattered stones and rusted fragments of what had once been structures of power. Their eyes scanned the terrain, but they were not searching for enemies. They were searching for a presence they both knew would command attention—Toren.
He was perched atop a pile of blackened husks, the remains of foes he had destroyed. He looked like a god of war taking a moment to rest, a predator who had conquered everything in his path. His claws rested on his knees, fur matted with ichor, glistening in the morning light. Around him sprawled the casualties of his battle, twisted forms caught in mid-fall, a grim crown of enemies. But Toren was not alone.
A woman stood nearby, and even amid the carnage, she drew every eye. Her presence was impossible to ignore. Hair as dark as night cascaded over one shoulder, Her armor was travel-worn yet elegant, plates of pale leather... But it was her eyes that struck hardest—deep amber, calm and measured, as though she had stared into chaos and come out untouched.
Xin slowed. That face was familiar, unforgettable. only a few knew her name: Rose.
Shun's wings twitched, folding tighter against his back. His voice, quiet and almost reverent, broke the momentary silence. "Rose," he said, as if speaking it aloud might make her vanish.
They closed the distance. Toren lifted his head first, eyes gleaming, teeth flashing in a grin that was equal parts amusement and warning. "Well, look who survived," he said. His gaze swept over Shun, then Xin. "You're going to want to hear this."
Shun's mouth opened, but Toren moved first, rising with the fluidity of a panther. Before Shun could speak, Toren stepped forward, hand gripping Xin's shoulder in a firm hold that brooked no argument. "Seriously," he said, low and commanding. "Listen."
Rose shifted slightly, the faintest nod acknowledging the moment. "It's true," she said, her voice soft yet carrying across the broken stones. "I wouldn't be here if it weren't for him."
Shun's brow furrowed. "For who?"
"A man named Nero," Rose replied.
The wind picked up, stirring ash across the ground. Silence followed, thick and pressing, until Xin's breath caught, uneven. Shun snapped his gaze toward him, recognition dawning. "Wasn't that—" he began, voice tight with disbelief.
"Xin's friend," Toren finished, his voice quiet now, almost conspiratorial. He met Xin's eyes. "It's hard to believe. But that's what she said."
Xin stared, the words barely forming in his mind. "Nero saved you?"
Rose's nod was slow, deliberate. "More than once. I wasn't in a good place when I found him. He helped me. Fed me. Taught me how to move through the lower rings without drawing the wrong attention. I stayed with him for months."
Shun's eyes narrowed, searching for hidden meanings. "Where is he now?"
Rose's gaze faltered, a crack in her calm demeanor. "When I found him again, he was on the verge of death. There was nothing I could do. I left him in the chamber and came here."
"The chamber?" Xin's voice sharpened. Urgency laced every syllable. "What chamber?"
Rose's expression hardened, as if bracing herself. "It doesn't matter now. He's probably dead. There's no reason to go down there."
Xin stepped forward, shoulders squared, resolve hardening despite the tension in his chest. "Even still," he said, voice low and steady, "I want to at least see the body."
Something flickered across Rose's face—surprise, a trace of pity—and her dark eyes shifted to Toren. Toren shifted uneasily, muscles flexing. "Xin…"
"I have to," Xin said, shaking his head. "When he jumped off the mountain, there was no body. I told myself he was gone because I had no choice. But now…" His hands tightened around the Dharma Wheel. "Now I have a chance to see my friend. Even if it's only his body."
Rose exhaled slowly, studying him, weighing him. "You're serious," she said.
"I need to know," Xin answered without hesitation.
A heartbeat passed. Shun remained silent, wings folded, watching closely. Toren scratched at the back of his neck, muttering something under his breath, then clapped Xin on the shoulder with more weight than expected. "You've come back from worse," he said. "If you're going down there, I'm not letting you go alone."
Rose's lips curved in a faint, humorless smile. "Then you'd better be ready. The chamber isn't kind to visitors."
She stepped down from the pile of broken husks, moving like a predator used to surviving where others failed. Light caught the silver threads in her hair, and for a moment, they flared like sparks dancing in the wind. She passed with effortless grace, each step measured and precise, and everyone watching felt it—the weight of someone who had stared into the abyss and emerged unbroken.
Xin's heart thundered in his chest. He remembered the moment Belial had fallen, disappearing into mist and shadow, and the scream that tore from his lungs. For months, he had mourned a friend he believed lost. Now the chance to see him again, alive or not, burned in him like a fire that refused to be snuffed.
Shun leaned closer, eyes searching Xin's. "Are you sure you're ready for this?"
Xin met him, unflinching despite the tremor in his chest. "No," he admitted. "But I have to do it."
Shun gave a small nod, understanding more in silence than words could carry. "Then I'm coming with you."
"No, Shun," Xin said, voice firm, eyes steady. "You stay here. They need your Regalia
Shun's gaze softened, wings drawing in as if he could fold his worry away with them. "Then stay safe," he murmured.
"Ill bring a couple of soldiers, just in case" Toren interjected
"You also need to rest," Lira abruptly interrupted.
Grasping her shoulder Toren said in a soft voice, the softest anyone had ever witnessed really.
"I'll be fine, Lira. You and shun can help finish things here, were just going to check on a body."
...
The descent began like a test of nerve. The path wasn't a path at all, only a strip of rough stone cut into the mountain's flank at a brutal angle. Thirty degrees or more in some places, slick with frost where the sun had not reached. One wrong step meant a fall that no one would survive.
Xin's boots slid once, catching on an outcrop, but Rose never faltered. She moved with a poise that looked impossible on terrain like this, her weight shifting with small, sure motions. She didn't speak. Neither did Xin. The mountain swallowed sound, leaving only the crunch of boots and the low rush of wind over the cliffs.
An hour passed like that, every breath shallow, every movement calculated. Xin's fingers had started to ache from gripping the edge of his Dharma Wheel, using it for balance. His mind raced ahead, imagining the chamber, imagining Nero, rehearsing how he would react. Hope warred with dread until both left him hollow.
They reached it at last, a dark slit in the rock shaped like a keyhole. Rose's hand brushed the stone beside it. "Here," she said quietly.
Xin stared into the opening. Cold air drifted out, heavy with iron and something older, like damp soil left undisturbed for centuries. He swallowed and stepped through.
The chamber swallowed them whole. Inside, the air was still, almost reverent. Columns of stone rose like the ribs of a giant, disappearing into shadow. The floor dipped inward, forming a hollow space where light barely touched. Dust drifted in slow spirals from above.
Rose went first, leaping down into the key as if she'd done it before. Xin followed, boots crunching on the thin layer of moss. The chamber felt wrong. Not like a tomb, not like a lair but more like a house...
Then he saw the shape at the center of the bed.
At first it didn't register. A body, yes. Injured, yes. But as he drew closer, the details cut through the haze like knives. Hair, amethyst-dark and matted with blood. Skin once bronze-gold, now dulled and ashen beneath a film of dirt. An empty socket where an eye had been. Puncture wounds like dark stars scattered across his torso. His back a ruin of dried and fresh blood.
Xin's steps slowed. His throat closed.
Belial.
For a heartbeat his mind refused to understand. If it wasn't for him Belial supposed to be back at the Summit, alive, healing, joking about anything and everything. Not lying here like this, a breath away from the end.
His hands trembled. He didn't remember crossing the last few steps, only that suddenly he was kneeling beside the slab, staring down at the ruined body of his companion. Belial's chest rose and fell in shallow, uneven breaths, each one sounding like it might be his last.
Xin reached out but stopped just short of touching him, fingers hovering over skin that felt like it might vanish at the slightest pressure. His voice came out hoarse, a whisper.
"Bel…"