The battlefield was no longer a place — it was a wound in reality. Mountains had been torn to dust, the ground was a cratered wasteland, and the very air trembled with the echoes of power unleashed. The corpses of both ally and enemy lay strewn across the ashen soil, eyes staring blankly at a sky stripped of the sun.
Sera… gone.
Praise… gone.
Astrid… gone.
All of them swallowed by the abyssal storm that had erupted when Zane had lost control.
And now, only two figures remained.
Zane stood, breathing ragged, his entire body trembling under the weight of wounds too deep to heal. Shadows leaked from every pore, snaking around him like dying serpents. His pitch-black eyes locked onto the one standing across from him — a mirror image… yet not.
The man with crimson hair and eyes like burning blood. His armor shimmered with warped light, and in his hand rested the crimson greatsword — a weapon that radiated killing intent so pure it seemed to burn the soul.
Link.
Zane's other half. His equal. His executioner.
"You've fought well," Link said, voice deep, calm, as though the world's destruction meant nothing to him. "But this is where it ends."
Zane's grip on his weapon faltered. His knees buckled. He fell, shadows splattering like liquid night across the ground.
Link's lips curled into a thin, victorious smile. "I'll make it quick."
The greatsword began to glow, a searing, blinding red. The air screamed around it, heat distorting the world, reality cracking like glass. Link raised it high, pouring every ounce of his power into one final strike.
And then—
SHHKKT!
The blade drove clean through Zane's chest, piercing his heart.
Blood sprayed in a black-red arc, splattering against the broken earth.
Zane coughed, a wet, rattling sound. His voice came in a whisper, yet it carried through the dead air, echoing in a way that was not entirely mortal.
"…Abyssal Form…"
His cracked lips curved into a faint, bloody smile.
"…Angel's Descent… Return… of the Void."
And then—
BONG.
A bell rang.
Once.
Deep.
Resonant.
Ancient.
The sound did not echo — it spread. It vibrated through the bones of every living thing in the world. Seas froze in place. Winds died mid-gust. Every soul felt it in their core.
Link's eyes widened. "…What have you done?"
A shadow passed over his face, not from the sky — but from the sheer dread settling in his chest.
"That power…" he muttered, stepping back instinctively, "you'll kill us all—"
BONG.
The second bell.
And this time, the world heard. Not just here — but everywhere.
From the floating cities of the northern empire to the burning sands of the southern wastes, the sound reverberated across all nations. Kings, queens, generals, and scholars froze mid-breath.
One by one, they gathered in their halls, speaking the same words in terrified unison:
"The bells have begun to ring again."
BONG.
The third bell.
The ground split wide, spilling rivers of shadow that swallowed everything in their path. From Zane's body, a figure began to rise — not of flesh, but of impossible light.
An angel.
Its form was blinding yet shrouded, wings stretching endlessly, each feather etched with runes older than the world. Its mere presence bent the horizon.
It looked skyward.
The heavens went dark.
Then…
The angel spread its wings, and the world died.
Not with fire.
Not with screams.
But with silence.
A blue infinity symbol burned onto Zane's forehead. His lips curved in a final, satisfied smirk.
And then his body went limp, falling face-first into the ashen earth.
The angel's light dimmed to black.
The last breath of the world escaped.
And all was nothing.