Screams tore through the park as the orb of blood continued its ascent. Now larger than a building, its surface churned and shifted as if alive. It pulsed slowly, rhythmically—each throb echoing like a heartbeat across the sky. With every beat, ripples raced along its grotesque surface, distorting it before it thickened and darkened, becoming even more menacing.
An aura of dread radiated from the orb, freezing blood in veins and crushing courage in chests. People fled in every direction. No one understood what it was, but everyone could feel it: this was danger. Pure, living danger.
Mothers clutched their children. Men shouted warnings no one heard. The elderly were lost in the tide of chaos. Bodies crashed into one another, driven by a singular instinct—escape. Screams turned to wails. Some were trampled, others thrown into walls or overturned carts. The air was thick with fear and sweat, the stench sharp and suffocating.
Eyes wide, faces twisted in disbelief, the people fled as if the sky itself had declared war.
Then the horror deepened.
Those injured in the panic began to bleed—and their blood didn't fall. It floated. Drawn upward toward the pulsating orb in the sky. Slowly at first, then faster, until the wounded collapsed, drained completely. Lifeless. Pale. Empty.
Every injury within a twenty-mile radius—no matter how small—was fatal.
The closer one was to the orb, the quicker they died.
"We need to get out of here, Rhesa!" Simon shouted, panic tightening his voice. "We have to get the kids to safety—now!"
But Rhesa only turned to him, her expression unreadable. After a brief silence, she answered, her voice calm—too calm.
"We can't, Simon. We can't." Her voice trembled with sorrow hidden behind composure. "Don't worry… I'll protect you."
Simon froze. Her words unsettled him. 'What the hell is happening?'
Then, the world darkened.
He looked up.
The orb had begun to shift and spread, stretching like a veil across the sky. Within seconds, it had swallowed the sky above the entire district—twenty miles of red-tinged death looming above them.
'I need to end her quickly,' Anele thought, watching her intently. 'I don't care about the other Virans, but if another Kyrios intervenes… it'll get messy.'
Rhesa stood still, hands pressed together as if in silent prayer.
"Oh Mother," she whispered, "grant me the strength to rid the world of this fiend… or at least protect my family from him."
She stepped forward, still holding her hands together.
"Rhesa, what are you doing?! Get back here!" Simon shouted, taking a step forward.
Then, for the first time since he'd known her, Rhesa raised her voice.
"Staywhereyouare, Simon! Stay near the kids. I cannot protect you if you leave my domain."
As the words left her lips, a sharp crack pierced the air.
The windshield of a nearby car spiderwebbed and shattered. Then, slowly, it rose off the ground. A beat later, every car in the area began to float—lifted by some invisible force—and drifted toward her.
As they neared, the cars crumpled, compressed as if gripped by a giant, unseen hand.
It wasn't just the cars.
Every metallic object in the vicinity—street signs, lampposts, window frames, nails buried in walls—was drawn toward her. Buildings collapsed. The earth trembled. Metal streamed through the air like rivers of steel.
The flattened wreckage began to stack in the soil behind Rhesa—around Simon, Anya, and Ren. An armored dome slowly took shape around them, layered and impenetrable.
"Warden's Carapace," Rhesa muttered, her hands still together.
The dome solidified—thick, curved, and massive—shaped like the shell of a giant turtle. Her family was safe… for now.
Rhesa sighed.
Every piece of metal within ten miles now floated around her. Most of the surrounding buildings had crumbled. She had known from the start: it would be impossible to avoid casualties. Too many people. Too little time.
'Will I be able to win? I don't want to die… I don't want them to die. I worked so hard to get here. Is this how it ends?'
These thoughts swirled in her mind. Her derivative was powerful—immensely so. But her body had limits. Her vessel—the internal reserve that stored her Vira—was always smaller than that of her peers. From childhood, she had worked three times harder than any other Viran just to match their progress. She had forced herself into mastery, clawed her way to the elemental Dominion stage, earning the title of Kyrios.
But unlike the others, she could not last long in battle. Her strength was explosive… not enduring.
'I have to end this quickly,' she thought.
She opened her mouth—and whispered her dominion technique:
"Throne of the Iron Gospel."
Instantly, the metals around her spun in three separate spirals, moving like hurricanes in different directions. Then they began to form shapes—towering constructs made of compressed steel.
The first: a fifty-foot knight in full armor, wielding a lance the size of a tree.
The second: a thirty-foot warrior with a massive shield and a short sword.
The third: an archer, also thirty feet tall, its arms already drawn back with a swirling arrow of metal.
The rest of the floating metal continued to swirl around the archer, waiting.
Rhesa staggered slightly, nausea building inside her. A sign she was burning through her Vira far too quickly. This technique… this was the one that had earned her the title of Kyrios. And this was the reason she had never used it—until now.
Across from her, Anele stared with wide eyes and a twisted grin.
"The Throne of Iron Gospel…" he said, voice thick with awe. "What a sight. They said you never revealed your domain technique. Said you were an elite hand-to-hand fighter. But this—this means you're taking me seriously. I'm honored."
Above them, drops of blood began falling from the crimson veil in the sky—softly at first, then in steady streams.
One large drop fell directly onto Anele. Upon contact, it split into three.
Two streaked behind him, forming jagged, wing-like structures. The third warped and twisted into the shape of a massive, curved scythe in his hand.
"This is the end for you, Rhesa," he said with cruel satisfaction. "I've never liked you. And today, I'll end your dominion."
He leapt into the air, wings spread wide. Blood trailed behind him like ink in water.
Then he roared:
"Hands of Divine Judgment!"