Chapter 121:
The air in the city was unbreathable—thick with smoke and a metallic stench that heralded extinction. The once-vibrant streets had become a graveyard of soldiers and civilians; chaos reigned on every corner. Bloodthirsty creatures, twisted by the corruption of the Council of Thirteen, tore through the last survivors, reducing humanity to misshapen shadows of what they once were.
Skiller pounded on a steel door with bloodied fists, his breath ragged with despair.
—"Open up, damn it! There are survivors here!"—he shouted, clinging to the hope that someone still lived behind those walls.
The door finally gave way with a metallic groan, but inside, he found only piled corpses. Death had arrived before him.
A faint whisper broke the silence.
At the center of the room—amid the fire and ruin—a familiar figure stood tall:
Cristal.
Her hair shimmered with crimson reflections beneath the fire's glow. Her eyes, once vibrant, now reflected a cold, dark will. With barely a movement of her lips, she issued commands to the creatures kneeling before her.
—"Go… Eliminate the Snova brothers. Leave no trace of them."
Skiller's stomach dropped.
—"Cristal! You don't have to do this! Come with me!"
She turned slowly. Her gaze met his. For a fleeting moment, something human flickered across her face… but it vanished like a dying flame against the wind.
—"There's no redemption left for me, Skiller. Vengeance is all I have."
Her lips trembled. A single tear—thin as a strand of glass—slid down her cheek and evaporated in the heat.
—"But if I ever… if I ever remember who I was," she whispered, barely audible, "it'll be because of you."(And if I don't… at least you'll know that, for a heartbeat, I doubted.)
Before he could reach her, a hellish roar shook the city. The creatures surged in a stampede, carrying Cristal away into the chaos.
—"Cristal!"—Skiller cried, collapsing to his knees, watching her slip from his grasp again.
From the top of a ruined building, he looked up at the sky. Between the grey clouds, a radiant blue glow spread over the devastation—like a divine omen.
The time had come.
At the heart of the battle, where the sky burned and the earth groaned beneath them, Aisha and Sanathiel had reached their limit.
Sanathiel gasped, each breath a torment. His sword, barely held aloft, trembled in his grip.
—"We won't… stop it…"—he said through clenched teeth—"unless we give it everything."
He leaned toward her, and for a fleeting second, their foreheads touched—a moment of peace in the middle of hell.
—"If this is our end…"—Sanathiel murmured—"I'm glad to share it with you."
She brought her hand to his, their fingers interlacing.
—"It's not the end," she answered firmly. "It's our legacy."
(And if we die here, let the world know: even the condemned can still love.)
Aisha nodded. Her body trembled—covered in blood and light. Tears mingled with sweat on her cheeks, but her eyes burned with unshakable resolve.
With both hands, she raised the lunar medallion, pulsing with ancient energy.
—"If this is the price… then we pay it together, Sanathiel."
The medallion blazed with silver light, and a scorching wave burst from it—sweeping out like a celestial storm. The entire city trembled under the roar of released energy.
The beasts screamed as the light consumed them, their cries ripping through the night as they were erased from existence.
Sanathiel dropped to his knees, his body convulsing from the drain of his life force. Aisha barely remained standing.
When the light faded, Rasen's body rolled across the ground—lifeless, but intact.
A small object descended from the sky, tumbling to rest at Aisha's feet.
A bottle, sealed with glowing tattoos and runes.
She picked it up with trembling hands, sensing the latent power within.
—"Rasen…"—she whispered, voice breaking. Her vision blurred as tears streamed down her face—nothing but a simple, human gesture.
Sanathiel, barely upright, placed a hand on her shoulder.
—"The demon… is sealed. But Rasen… he may not wake up. We paid a terrible price today, Aisha."
He stumbled. She steadied him, still wrapped in the arms of the white wolf.
—"You and your human will be free," he murmured.
—"No." Aisha embraced him tightly. "You are the one I love. The one I will always love."
The white wolf smiled. His body shifted into that of a great Nevri wolf, eyes glowing with brilliant blue light.
—"My life mate. In life and death—together."
Silence.
The wind swept through the ruins, carrying the scent of ash and death.
Survivors—both human and Nevri—emerged slowly from their hiding places. They looked up at the cleared sky, its pure blue a stark contrast to the devastation below.
From afar, Skiller watched the scene, the weight of loss pressing on his chest. With the sky splitting and the fires dying out, they had won… but the cost was too high.
—"We survived…" he whispered. "But at what cost?"—as he looked over the shattered city.
Aisha, clutching the bottle tightly, felt the glass tremble in her grip—as if it recognized her essence. Faint voices—echoes of something ancient, furious, and eternal—whispered at the edge of her hearing.
An inscription flared briefly at the base of the bottle. It was not in any language she knew, but one word burned clearly in her mind:
Rebirth.
(The world would be rebuilt. But among the ruins, the echo of a new beginning was already walking… in the shape of rebirth.)
She lifted her gaze toward the horizon. The debris still smoked, but beyond, the first light of dawn began to break through the gloom.
—"This isn't the end," she whispered, with the voice of someone who had lost—and won. "It's just the beginning of a new destiny… one we'll forge with our own hands."
The sun rose above yesterday's remains.And with it, the promise of a new path.