The Devourer's core struck the ground with a heavy, lifeless thud—a massive, fractured crystal, pulsing faintly in the dimming light.
The battle was over.
But they were not safe yet.
The overlap was nearing its end, and Arwik—his right arm lost, his strength drained—could no longer wield his sword.
They had one hope.
The young man stepped forward, placing his hand on the crystal's surface.
A surge.
Raw, unfiltered energy flooded through him—wild, chaotic, unbearable.
But it was enough.
Just one touch.
He steadied himself, pushing all else from his mind. No thoughts. No hesitation.
His blade rose.
A strike.
A tear in reality.
The portal shimmered before them—a gateway to another land.
Arwik exhaled, his breath shuddering.
"Finally… finally free."
Tears welled in his eyes.
Together, they stepped through.
A sky—gray, overcast, stretching endlessly above.
A breeze—cool, gentle, carrying the scent of salt and distant rain.
Rolling plains unfolded before them, the first sign of a world untouched by the horrors of the Red Horizon.
They walked.
For how long, they did not know.
Until, at last—
They found the sea.
A coastal town, nestled against the shore, waiting for them at the edge of the world. The sea stretched endlessly before them, dark and restless beneath a sky of shifting gray. The coastal town was alive with the scent of salt and fish, the voices of merchants haggling over fresh catches, the rhythmic creak of ships rocking in the harbor.
Arwik led the way, his pace steady despite his bandaged stump. The girl walked beside the young man now—slowly, but without need of support. She had recovered enough to stand on her own, though fatigue still clung to her like an unseen weight.
As they passed through the town, more than one pair of eyes lingered on her—some curious, others wary. Her presence was a stark contrast to the people around her, who wore simple clothes of earth tones, their lives shaped by the rhythms of the sea. She moved through them like a stranger in a strange land, her footsteps a little too measured, her gaze a little too intense.
Her sharp eyes moved across the town, taking in the wooden buildings, the stalls stacked with strange goods, the people moving with quiet purpose.
"This world… it's different,"
She murmured.
The young man glanced at her.
"What do you mean?"
She paused, watching a group of fishermen haul their nets onto the dock. Their hands moved quickly, gutting and cleaning their catch with practiced efficiency. The air filled with the smell of blood and brine.
"They don't waste anything,"
She observed.
"Every part of the fish is used."
She watched as the scraps were tossed into baskets for bait or trade.
"Survival here isn't like the Red Horizon. It's… practical."
Arwik gave a low chuckle.
"That's the human way."
They reached the docks, where ships bobbed on the waves, their sails furled and ready for departure. Most were merchant vessels, larger than anything the young man had ever seen, with crews barking orders as they prepared for long journeys.
Arwik's gaze settled on a mid-sized ship, its hull worn but sturdy. A crew of sailors worked with quiet efficiency, checking ropes and supplies. At the helm stood a man with sharp eyes, watching them approach.
Arwik stepped forward.
"You sail for the Capital?"
The captain eyed them. His gaze lingered on Arwik's missing arm, then on the young man and the girl—both clearly out of place.
"Aye,"
He said, his voice rough from years at sea.
"Depends—can you pay?"
"We can work,"
The young man said.
The captain raised a brow.
"You fight?"
The young man nodded.
"And the girl?"
She met the captain's gaze without hesitation.
"I learn quickly."
The captain smirked.
"Good answer."
He exhaled through his nose, then gestured toward the ship.
"You'll haul cargo. She'll help where needed. Stay out of the way, don't cause trouble."
With that, the deal was struck.
They boarded as the ship cast off, the wind filling its sails, pulling them into open waters.
The girl stood at the railing, steady despite the ship's constant motion. She watched the waves roll beneath them, her expression unreadable.
"It moves different than the land," she noted.
"It's always shifting,"
The young man said.
"Never still."
She placed a hand on the wood, feeling the ship's rhythm.
"It's alive in its own way."
He smiled.
"Yeah."
For a while, they stood in silence, letting the sea carry them forward. The past was behind them. The future lay ahead.
At night, the ship rocked gently in the calm sea. Arwik lay at the bow, gazing up at the stars. The young man and the girl joined him, the three of them finally free. They had made it out.
Arwik turned his gaze to the girl. The wounds—the ones inflicted by the dark figure, his mistrust—had healed.
The sea journey had been mostly peaceful. The waters were still, the air clear. But ahead, land came into view. The continent was within reach.
Then, a ship approached—a vessel bearing armed men. Pirates.
Without a word, the young man drew his sword.
A flash of steel, so swift it was almost a blur.
The pirate captain's head fell to the deck, rolling away in the wind. The remaining pirates, seeing their easy bounty slip away, scattered in panic.
The captain's voice rang out in awe.
"I've never seen such overwhelming strength… Where did you come from?"
The young man didn't hesitate.
"It's a long story…"
The captain didn't press further.
"No matter. Thanks for your help."
With that, they sailed onward. Soon, they reached a port city near the Capital.
They passed quickly through the bustling streets, moving with purpose. By dusk, they arrived at the gates of Capital.
It had changed during Arwik's absence. The buildings looked better than he remembered. But the MRC building stood in disrepair, showing the signs of time and neglect.
Inside, an old man behind the counter flipped through papers. His gaze met Arwik's, and recognition flickered in his eyes.
"Have I seen you before?"
The old man squinted, a smile spreading across his face.
"Oh, I remember! You traveled with Veyr and that blonde-haired girl!"
Arwik's heart skipped a beat.
"Where were you all that time? We thought you were dead."
The old man continued.
Arwik's eyes lit up.
"Veyr! Is he still around here?"
The old man's expression darkened.
"You didn't hear? You must've been living under a rock."
He paused, then spoke in a quieter tone.
"Veyr disappeared after killing the boss and three of the killers…"
Arwik's face fell.
"What? How? He wasn't like that… Something must've happened."
The old man fell silent.
"And the blonde-haired girl?"
Arwik's voice trembled.
The old man's gaze softened.
"We found her body in the rubble of Harvent's mansion…"
Arwik's world spun. What had happened in the time he was gone?
The old man continued.
"You know, MRC hasn't been the same since that incident. With the boss dead, the rifts disappearing, and the drop in monsters, mercenaries are mostly hired for protection against bandits now. The roads are more traveled than before."
As the conversation dragged on, shouting broke out from outside. They rushed to the windows, eyes widening in disbelief.
The Flesh Moon loomed overhead—still one of the last vestiges of the fractured world, but now weaker, more faded.
Without hesitation, the young man leapt into action. His sword gleamed as he soared into the night sky, heading straight for the beast.
The battle was fierce. He was not the Knight of the Dying Sun in this new future, his strength was not has developed. But it was still enough.
With a final, powerful strike, the Flesh Moon fell. The young man emerged victorious, unharmed.