The battlefield was a graveyard of ash and bone, fairy core dust swirling like a storm of shattered stars, each speck burning with the weight of a thousand deaths. Atlas Von Roxweld stood, blood dripping from his slightly torn shoulder, his golden eyes blazing through the haze. His body was a battlefield of its own—virus and Yggdrasil locked in an endless war, healing and destruction tearing at his core.
[Healing mitigated… process… healing continued… 0.9%]
Number Five stood across the crater, his golden hair a halo of malice, his slim sword pulsing with mana that made the air scream. Seven and Ten lay broken in the dirt, their blood mixing with the ash, but Five was untouched, a god among ruins.
Claire fought at Atlas's side, her dagger flashing, mana crackling like a dying fire. But her movements were sloppy, her breath ragged—her battlefield was the court, all silk and lies, not this slaughterhouse of steel and blood.
