The commander's lips curl into a faint smile—the cold, empty smile of a warrior who finally believes the calamity has passed.
He sheathes his claymore with a metallic click. The fight is over.
Before leaving, he glances one last time at the destruction.
The crater where the Lava Giant fell is silent, no trace of the creature left behind. The ground around it shimmers like black glass, still pulsing with faint heat. The air hangs heavy—thick with smoke, blood, and mana residue.
Even the horizon burns faintly; the world is a wasteland of ash and molten scars.
For the first time since the battle began, the commander's shoulders loosen. The tension that grips him for hours slowly fades.
He exhales, long and quiet, and turns toward the fortress.
But then—
Something shifts.
The air turns cold. It carries a scent he instantly recognizes—ozone, sulfur, and raw, terrible power.
His instincts scream.
Before a thought can form, his body moves.
His hand shoots to the claymore at his back, eyes narrowing. The mana around him begins to stir again, violent and chaotic, swirling like a storm with a single center.
Every pulse of energy rushes toward one spot—the crater where the Lava Giant fell.
And from that place, the ground begins to tremble.
Cracks spread across the ground—thin at first, then widening like a spiderweb tearing through the earth. From within them, molten lava surges upward, spilling out in waves, burning through rock and air alike.
It is as if the gates of hell themselves open beneath their feet.
The atmosphere shifts. The air thickens.
Flames erupt from the crater and the widening fissures, twisting into pillars of fire that paint the world crimson. The entire battlefield becomes a vision of ruin—a place stripped from the deepest circles of hell.
Commander Arvell freezes, his face tightens as he stares into the inferno. He doesn't know what he witnesses—only that it should not exist.
His instincts scream at him to stop it, to end it before it begins.
But how?
The lava in the center of the crater begins to swirl. Slowly, it gathers, coiling upon itself, shaping into something unnatural—an egg.
No… a cocoon.
A cocoon made of molten rock and flame, pulsing with dark, furious energy.
It is massive—far larger than the Lava Giant he slew.
Ba-dump...
A heartbeat echoes from within.
Ba-dump... Ba-dump...
The cocoon begins to pulse. With each beat, waves of heat and mana tear outward, shaking the ground.
The rhythm quickens—faster, louder—until the air itself seems to breathe in time with it.
Ba-dump... Ba-dump... dumo... dumo... DUMP!
Commander Arvell takes a step forward—then stops.
His body refuses to move. His instincts scream one thing, louder than any order, louder than any battle-cry:
Do not touch that thing.
Then, all at once—silence.
Not peace, but an abyss.
The pulsing stops. The tremors fade. Even the mana in the air freezes, a tangible, suffocating stillness.
Arvell's instincts whisper one word, cold and undeniable:
Run.
Before he can react—
A sound splits the air. A roar.
Deep. Unnatural. Ancient.
The cocoon cracks.
A massive hand tears through the molten shell, claws dripping with fire.
Another follows.
The cocoon shatters, exploding outward in a wave of heat that sears the air itself.
From within the flames, the creature emerges.
It is the Lava Giant—yet not the same.
It has changed.
Its frame is larger, monstrous, its body carved from living magma. Dark red veins course across its body, pulsing with fire that slithers beneath the surface like molten blood.
The ground hisses and melts beneath its feet.
Its eyes—once dim embers—now burn with swirling infernos. They lock on the commander who slew it.
Recognition. Rage.
The air itself trembles as it roars again, a sound that tears the sky apart.
Flames erupt outward.
Arvell raises his aura in desperation, shielding himself from the inferno. Even so, the heat claws at his skin, biting, burning.
He grits his teeth, gripping his sword until his knuckles turn white. His expression hardens—grim and resolute.
"So… you weren't finished after all."
The Lava Giant lifts its gaze toward the commander, molten fury burning in its eyes. Then it crouches.
Its legs—thick as tree trunks—tighten, veins glowing like rivers of fire beneath the skin of magma.
And then—
A sound like a mountain rupturing.
Boom.
The ground shatters beneath its feet as it launches forward.
The impact leaves a fresh crater in its wake.
A streak of flame tears through the battlefield as the giant soars toward Arvell—a roaring, living meteor.
But the commander is already in motion.
He raises his claymore, aura crackling around him like a storm restrained by sheer will.
Their collision splits the air apart.
BOOM!
A shockwave ripples outward, flattening the forest, tearing roots from the earth, and scattering embers like blood across the night sky.
The commander—a lone figure against the towering colossus—should seem small.
Insignificant.
Yet the aura radiating from him is anything but human.
It clashes with the giant's fiery might, matching its monstrous presence blow for blow.
The Lava Giant swings its arm—a fist large enough to crush a fortress.
The earth groans under the pressure as the colossal attack descends.
Arvell meets it with a clean, perfect motion—his sword flashing once, cutting through the incoming flames.
Fire scatters like shredded silk.
Steel met magma.
Light met fury.
Each strike tears through the world—a dance of destruction between two beings who have long surpassed mortal limits.
The giant's fists pummel the ground, uprooting the land itself, igniting everything in their path.
Arvell's blade carves through flame, splitting the shockwaves themselves.
Every movement is so sharp, it seems to slice the sound of battle apart.
The forest is gone—replaced by a wasteland of molten stone and blinding light.
Each breath, each movement, becomes a declaration of dominance.
Neither yields.
Neither breaks.
The commander's aura flares—silver and white against the giant's crimson blaze.
Their powers collide once more.
This time, the sound is not a boom, but a shriek of tearing reality.
And the world screams.
The ground is torn apart.
Trees burn to ash.
The air trembles with the force of two calamities clashing.
Commander Arvell and the Lava Giant move through this hell—their every blow a catastrophe.
Each strike sends shockwaves tearing through the land, splitting the sky open under their fury.
And yet, far beyond that battlefield, two figures stand.
They occupy a half-shattered ridge of stone.
The shockwaves reach them. Fire rages, mana storms howl, and the world crumbles—but the destruction never touches them.
Even the roaring winds avoid their presence completely, the tempest bending like water around a stone.
It is as if the world itself refuses to acknowledge their existence.
Their cloaks don't flutter. The flames don't burn them.
Even the commander and the giant—whose senses can pierce the heart of a storm—fail to notice them.
Both are cloaked, their faces hidden.
One is tall, broad-shouldered, his silhouette sharp, carved from shadow and steel against the firelit horizon.
The other, slender and poised, her form merely a suggestion, half-shrouded in the flicker of embers.
Male and female.
Opposites in stillness—yet bound by the same unfathomable calm.
They say nothing.
Only watch.
Their eyes, unseen beneath the shadow of their hoods, follow the duel between man and monster.
The storm of destruction is reflected faintly in their silence.
Another shockwave rolls across the plains, shaking the heavens themselves.
The two figures do not even register the force.
They remain still.
Untouched.
Unmoved.
Then, the woman turns her head slightly—her gaze drifts toward the man beside her. Her voice comes out calm and composed, as though the destruction around her doesn't exist.
"Is it really okay for us to do this?"
The man doesn't look at her. His deep, steady voice cuts through the air like a blade.
"What are you talking about?"
She gestures toward the battlefield where the commander and the giant clash, their fury tearing the land apart.
"You know exactly what I'm talking about. We are ordered not to interfere—and yet, you just had to make that monster go wild. Do you really think they won't notice someone was behind this stampede?"
The man's shoulders rise slightly, his tone cold and unbothered.
"They won't. And even if they do, they won't be able to trace it back to us. There's no evidence. Nothing connects us."
The woman exhales quietly, her expression hidden under the hood.
"But why are you so obsessed with this prophecy? So many prophecies have failed before. What makes you think this one is any different?"
At that, the man finally turns his head. Beneath the hood, his eyes gleam faintly with conviction.
"This one is different." His voice is low.
"What's different about it this time?" she asks, watching him carefully.
He is silent for a moment, then steps closer to the edge of the stone ridge, the firelight washing over his cloak.
"I was there when she made it."
His tone darkens—reverent, almost haunted.
"Her face… her voice… her eyes. It was the first time anyone had seen her like that. Even she said it herself—this prophecy will come true. And that here, we will find our Messiah."
He turns his gaze back toward the battlefield.
"She believed it. So do I."
The woman doesn't reply immediately. Her fingers tighten slightly around her cloak.
"I still don't get it," she murmurs. "That woman's prophecies… they unsettle me. I get nothing but dread from her. Is she truly trustworthy?"
Silence.
The man speaks again—but this time, his voice is heavier.
"Watch your tongue."
A crushing pressure fills the air. The ground beneath the woman's feet cracks.
Her breath catches as the invisible weight forces her to her knees.
"Never speak of her like that," the man commands.
His tone is calm, but the threat is a physical presence—a spike of ice in the chest.
"It's because of her that we still exist. That we remain hidden. That we can still act while the Sovereign recovers."
"I… I understand," she gasps, struggling to draw a single breath.
The pressure fades as quickly as it came.
The man turns away, eyes fixed once more on the blazing duel far below.