Then Toya appeared behind Neraxis. He muttered coldly:
"If it's just pain… it wouldn't stop Yura de Urs."
Toya slashed forward, carving a deep, brutal wound across Neraxis' chest.
Neraxis tried healing—but failed.
His VF flow spiked out of control.
Four eyes glitched violently.
Brain signal waves distorted—his reaction delayed by a full second.
Neraxis thought:
The highest form of Yellow Dash doesn't just disrupt the heart… it damages the flow of VF itself. It tears through vital pathways, slowing recovery techniques like Reverse Vital Technique.
My VF flow is unstable. My four eyes are glitching again—I won't be able to recover spent VF for some time. And being hit in the head disrupted my brain signals… my reaction speed is slowed.
As Toya went for another slash—
Neraxis blocked.
His hands ignited with hellfire.
"I will burn Yura de Urs."
Seraphine Voss was already moving.
This is the perfect moment to erase his VF.
Neraxis lashed out toward Yura, hellfire roaring from his hands.
Yura closed in at the same time.
Seraphine's eyes widened.
That technique… it's lethal.
She screamed, "Yura—DODGE!"
But Neraxis was already too close.
It was unavoidable.
Flames erupted—
Not around Yura.
But around Seraphine.
She took the hit for him.
She coughed blood, her body engulfed in hellfire.
"Heh… kid," she muttered weakly, "you're doing well."
Her body burned, flesh cracking, nearly erased.
"Yura…" she whispered, voice fading, "defeat Neraxis."
Yura staggered back, eyes hollow, rage burning deep inside.
People are dying for my sake… giving me another chance.
I want to be the one who dies for others.
End this torment. End my life instead.
But I can't let down those who died for me.
Seraphine was completely burned away.
Dead.
{Seraphine's Father}
America.
A dim room filled with alcohol, cigarette smoke, and laughter.
Eros Voss lounged back, surrounded by three women, their bodies pressed close. His twisted smile flickered as one kissed him, another pulling at his shirt.
"It's not fair…" one woman teased, walking toward the bedroom, glancing back invitingly.
Eros pulled away from the kiss.
One woman asked softly, "Do you still miss your daughter…?"
He scoffed.
"Nah. She's scum."
He took a drag, exhaling slowly.
"Yes, I live off her money. And yes—I hate her."
"Why?" the woman asked, her voice soaked in alcohol and perfume.
"She never made me proud," Eros muttered.
"Never became one of the best hunters. That bastard failed—and she still thought she had the right to stop me from living my life."
"She was nothing but a pathetic, failed hunter."
One woman kissed him again, covering his face, whispering:
"Good job."
Eros sighed.