The Dark Dimension shattered — reality bled back into the world outside.
Everyone watching froze.
Lucy's eyes widened, voice trembling,
"...How? He— he defeated Gravio… in just a few minutes?"
The others stood speechless as the dust settled. The air was heavy, filled with the scent of blood and burnt magic.
Gravio's corpse hit the ground — his eyes still open, the faint trace of a smile on his lips.
Imperial stood over him, silent, his shadow long and cold.
Imperial's eyes still burned with that eerie, cold glow—his magic unstable, rippling outward in waves of inner rage. The air around him distorted, lightning arcs flickering in chaotic rhythm.
Suddenly, Erika, Zeren, Drake, Magna, and the others felt it—a heavy surge of power approaching fast.
Before anyone could react, a figure appeared behind Imperial.
Finn.
Without a word, Finn pressed a glowing crystal against Imperial's back.
Erika: "H-How is he here?!"
Magna: "Everyone—get away from him!"
But it was too late.
The crystal began to shine—pulsating with an unnatural light. Imperial's body trembled, cracks of magic energy running across his skin like lightning veins. Then, piece by piece, his form started breaking apart into glowing fragments, each being absorbed into the crystal.
Within seconds—
Imperial vanished.
Magna roared in fury, his fist igniting with raw mana as he lunged toward Finn—
—but Finn teleported behind him, whispering coldly,
Finn: "Disappear."
Before the blow could land, Zeren fired a blazing arrow.
The arrow struck Finn's arm, forcing him to miss his mark.
Finn looked down at the burn on his sleeve, then smirked. Slowly, he rose into the sky.
Finn: "My job is done. I have no reason to fight any of you now. The Red Marker is finally eliminated. So—thank you, all of you, for completing this mission."
He paused, eyes glinting like cold glass.
Finn: "This is a message... from the Four Emperors."
With that, Finn and the crystal shimmered and vanished.
A second later—
BOOM!
From the distance, the old ruined house—where the real Imperial had been resting—erupted in a massive explosion of fire and smoke. The ground trembled. Everyone turned toward the burning ruin in stunned silence.
Ari stood frozen, her mind still processing what just happened.
Ben lifted Gravio's lifeless body onto his shoulder, his jaw tight.
Lucy: "Never thought even Gravio could be killed by someone... That Imperial—he's not just human."
"So this is how it ends—two demons of the same generation, bound by the same fate."
[Scene Shift – Dark Room]
A dim chamber flickers under the faint glow of cursed torches. The air is thick—cold, heavy, and suffocating. Several emperors stand before a chained figure bound by iron restraints across his arms and legs.
It's Imperial—blood dripping from his wounds, barely conscious.
Magnus: "Finally… you're captured, Imperial. Or should I say— the successor of the Lightning God."
Imperial's head hangs low, blood staining the floor beneath him. His faint breathing is the only sound echoing through the silence.
Moments later, the heavy doors creak open. Finn steps inside.
Magnus: "Have you destroyed the book he possessed?"
Finn: "Yes. The book was hidden in his safehouse. I burned the entire place to ash. Nothing remains."
Magnus: "Good. You've done well."
Finn: "But, my lord… have you not felt it? The drop in the Gate's energy—dark magic itself is weakening."
A tense silence.
Celestia: "He's right. My dark magic has been draining faster than usual… for quite some time."
Magnus and the others slowly turn toward Imperial—whose lips curl into a faint smile, even in his half-conscious state.
Milrik: "Damn you!" —he kicks Imperial's chest. "What have you done this time!?"
Magnus closes his eyes, focusing, sensing something beyond the chamber. His expression shifts—grim.
Magnus (low): "…The three elders… they're gone."
________________________________________
[Scene Shift – Royal Palace, Central Empire]
Inside a grand marble hall, three lifeless bodies lie sprawled in a pool of blood. Their once-golden robes now soaked in crimson.
________________________________________
[Scene Shift – Alden Mansion]
Night falls. Clouds blanket the sky. Lyra stands quietly on her balcony, her silver hair flowing in the cold wind. She gazes up at the stormy heavens.
Lyra (softly): "I just hope… you two are safe."
[Scene Shift – Coastal Town]
Waves crash softly against the shore. The wind carries the scent of salt and sorrow. Ari and the others sit quietly near the docks, the glow of dusk reflecting in their eyes—heavy with guilt.
Footsteps approach. Erika, Zeren, and Magna walk toward them.
Erika: "Don't drown yourselves in guilt now. You fought for what you believed in… and we fought for ours. There's no room for regret anymore."
Ari lowers her head, her voice trembling.
Ari: "But… his father died right in front of us. And we couldn't do anything."
Zeren crosses his arms, his gaze fixed on the sea.
Zeren: "That's fate. What's written by the gods can't be changed—no matter how strong we become."
A silence follows. Only the ocean speaks.
Then Erika breaks it gently.
Erika: "So… what are you planning to do now?"
Ari looks up, her eyes soft yet determined.
Ari: "I want to visit the Alden Mansion. I need to tell Lady Lyra what happened. She was the one who cared for us when no one else did. What's been done is unforgivable, and maybe… she won't even let us near her now. But she's alone. I can't just ignore that."
Zeren sighs.
Zeren: "I doubt she'll blame you—or any of the four. But she must already sense what's happened. If you're the one to deliver the news, it'll hit harder."
He pauses, his tone calm but firm.
Zeren: "Wait until tomorrow. By then, the news will have spread across all five empires. Go to her then—it'll give her time to prepare… and you time to face her."
Ari nods silently, watching the horizon fade into the night.
The road hummed under the cart's wheels. Clouds swallowed the sun, and a thin wind carried the faint stink of sea and smoke. Erika and her team had gone on; Zeren and Magna had taken another route. Now only Ari, Tracey, Dawn, and Gray sat shoulder-to-shoulder in the cramped cart, a heavy silence stitched between them.
Hours passed with nothing but the creak of wood and the horses' slow breathing. Tracey finally broke the quiet, her voice small and raw.
Tracey: "There's something eating me. When I was facing Imperial… I felt this—this urge. Not just anger. It was like someone was pushing me to kill him. Even the thought came so clean in my head."
Dawn's hand tightened around the cart rail. Her face went pale.
Dawn: "Me too. I thought it was guilt, or shock. But it wasn't sorrow — it was a purpose, like something placed there. I didn't want it, and yet it felt… motivated."
Gray lifted his chin, voice flat as a blade.
Gray: "Same here. Every instinct said don't, but my head kept returning to one simple command: end him."
Ari stared at the passing hedgerows, stomach hollow. Her fingers curled into the hem of her cloak.
Ari: "So I'm not the only one. We all felt it. We don't want to kill him — not in our hearts — but in our minds it kept turning into one thing. Kill. Kill. Kill." She swallowed. "How do four different people get the same thought at the same time?"
The cart fell quiet again. The wind seemed to answer, carrying the distant rumble of thunder. None of them spoke the name.
Dawn finally whispered, more to herself than to the others.
Dawn: "It's not us."
Ari's eyes met each of theirs in turn. For the first time since the capture, fear—cold and certain—moved through them not as guilt, but as a warning.
[Morning — Alden Mansion]
Dawn light bled into the sky like a slow wound. The carriage rolled up the long gravel drive of the Alden estate; hedges shivered with a thin, cold breeze. Silence wrapped the mansion in a careful hush—too quiet for morning. Ari, Tracey, Dawn, and Gray climbed down, each step heavier than the last. Their clothes still smelled faintly of smoke and iron; their faces were drawn from the night's weight.
They reached the great oak door and paused. The manor's windows were blind; not a single servant moved in the gardens. Ari raised a hand and knocked three times—a measured, hollow sound that swallowed itself against the stone. Then again. No answer. Only the distant cry of a gull and the rattle of some forgotten shutter.
Ari waited, throat tight. She knocked a third time, harder. Silence pressed back.
Tracey glanced at the others. "Maybe she isn't home," she whispered, hope and dread braided together.
They stepped back from the threshold as if retreating from a living thing. The mansion seemed to watch them; its shadow leaned forward, deliberate. Ari pressed her fingers to the scar at her wrist, feeling the tremor beneath her skin—the same chill that had haunted them on the road.
Just as they began to turn away, the heavy door moved inward on its hinges with a sound like slow breathing. For a second none of them dared to look. The door opened wider, and there she was.
Lady Lyra stood framed in the doorway, hair loose and silver-threaded in the morning light. She wore a plain robe, but her posture was still regal—an island of composure. Her eyes swept over them, taking in the dirt, the torn sleeves, the dark smears on Ari's cloak.
Lyra's face stayed unreadable for a heartbeat. Then something very small—an exhale, like the breaking of a held-in storm—escaped her lips.
"Ari," she said, voice low. The name finished the sentence they all felt but hadn't spoken.
Ari stepped forward before she could stop herself. "Lady Lyra—" Her words broke. "We need to tell you… about last night."
Lyra's gaze flicked to each of them in turn: Tracey's jaw clenched, Dawn's hands trembling, Gray's eyes narrowed but weary. For a moment she was simply a woman assessing the damage the world had left on those she had sheltered.
"Come in," Lyra said at last, but not with the warmth of welcome—more the firmness of someone accepting a burden. "You look like you have the sea in your veins."
Tracey's shoulders sagged; Dawn let out a shaky laugh that was almost a sob. Gray moved aside to let them pass. Ari hesitated at the threshold, then stepped into the dim foyer. The air inside smelled of old paper and lavender—comfort and memory braided together.
Lyra closed the door behind them and stood very still, hands folded before her. "Before you speak," she said quietly, "tell me first—are any of you hurt? Is there blood I should see?" Her voice carried the same steadiness that had kept them alive when they were children under her care.
Ari met Lyra's eyes and, for the first time since the road, let the grief rise unguarded. "We tried," she whispered. "We failed to stop—" Her words fractured; the memory of the chained figure, the three dead elders, pressed against her ribs. "We didn't save him."
Lyra's face softened then, in a way that hurt more than any anger. She reached out, a single hand hovering near Ari's shoulder but not touching—uncertain, respectful of the boundary pain had built. "Come to the library," she said. "Sit. Tell me everything, from the beginning. I will listen. That is what I can do for now."
By the time they finished, silence filled the room like thick fog. Ari's hands were trembling in her lap, her throat tight. Tracey's eyes stayed fixed on the floor. Gray and Dawn looked hollow, each lost in their own storm of guilt.
Ari finally stood, bowing her head deeply.
Ari: "Lady Lyra… we're sorry. We tried, but we failed. Everything that happened — it was our fault."
Lyra turned from the window, her eyes calm but unreadable. She crossed the room slowly and placed a hand on Ari's shoulder.
Lyra: "No, child. Don't carry guilt that isn't yours."
Her voice was steady — the kind that could silence chaos itself.
Lyra: "You are not the ones who caused this. You were only caught in it. Each of you had your reasons, and none of them were wrong."
Tracey looked up, her voice shaking.
Tracey: "But Imperial… he—"
Lyra: "Imperial is doing something even we cannot understand yet." She paused, glancing at the flicker of the fire. "Whatever his actions were, they weren't born of madness or hate. He's chasing something greater — something hidden from all of us."
Dawn frowned softly. "Then… everything that's happening—"
Lyra: "—is a part of that unseen thread," she finished quietly. "Don't let guilt blind you from seeing that. Sometimes fate chooses people to play painful roles, even when their hearts mean no harm."
Ari lowered her gaze, eyes glistening. "But it still hurts to accept it."
Lyra's hand lingered briefly on Ari's shoulder before pulling away.
Lyra: "I know. Pain is the proof that you still care. That's what keeps you human."
The room fell into quiet again — softer this time, not heavy like before, but thoughtful. The wind brushed against the window, stirring the curtains like ghosts of memory.
Lyra turned toward the fire, her tone gentle but firm.
Lyra: "Rest here for today. The world outside is already moving with news of what happened. When you leave tomorrow, you'll need your strength — not your guilt."
The group nodded slowly. For the first time since dawn, they felt the weight on their chests lighten, if only slightly.
The door creaked open, releasing a faint draft of dust and silence. The room was just as Imperial had left it — neat, almost untouched, yet heavy with his presence. The faint scent of old parchment and lightning lingered in the air.
Ari stepped inside first. Her eyes wandered across the walls, the shelves lined with old journals, the window half-open to the cold morning light.
For a moment, it was like stepping back in time — back to the days when she and Imperial would return from training under Master Kaien, tired but smiling, sharing late-night talks at this very desk.
Her gaze softened — and then froze.
On Imperial's table lay a book. Its dark cover glimmered faintly beneath the dust. Ari moved closer, her heartbeat quickening. The cover… she had seen it before.
She reached out, fingertips brushing the material — and realization struck.
Ari (whispering): "This book… it's the same one we found at Dawn's village… the one Imperial took before leaving us."
Her chest tightened. She slowly lifted the book, the weight of it strangely familiar yet cold. The moment she opened it, the pages fluttered as if alive, the ink almost pulsing.
Ari's eyes scanned the words. Her lips parted slightly. She had read this before. The same script, the same sigil — when they had first met the four emperors.
And yet… something was wrong.
Her head throbbed. The letters seemed to shift, rearranging into shapes that shouldn't exist.
Ari (to herself): "Why… why does it feel different this time?"
Behind her, Tracey and Gray were already stepping out of the room, murmuring quietly. Dawn lingered by the door, noticing Ari's stillness.
Dawn: "Ari? What's wrong?"
Ari didn't answer. Her pupils had narrowed, her breathing shallow. Then suddenly—she dropped the book.
It hit the floor with a dull thud.
Dawn: "Ari!"
Dawn and the others rushed back. Ari stood frozen, eyes wide, her body trembling violently. Her hand was still half-raised, as if trying to push something away.
Tracey: "What happened?!".
Gray frowned, unease clear in his tone.
Gray: "Ari, what did you see?"
Ari looked at the book, her lips trembling.
Ari: "A name. Written between the lines… one that wasn't there before."
Dawn: "Whose name?"
Ari swallowed, her voice almost breaking.
Ari: "Imperial's."
The room fell silent — only the soft, unnatural flutter of pages breaking the stillness, as if the book itself was breathing.