Taken once again—this time into a darker custody—Chiaki's unconscious body rested like a fallen star in the hollow center of a circular chamber. There was no rescue in sight, no mercy in the air. Only one intent remained: sever her soul. End her existence. Erase her from the world as if she'd never lived. It wasn't justice—it was an execution. Cold. Calculated. Cruel.
Her body was unceremoniously dropped at the heart of the room, the stone beneath her scorched by echoes of battles past. Rhaziel passed by without pause, his steps deliberate, unfaltering. No flicker of hesitation. No glimmer of humanity. He was everything the rumors claimed and worse—a commander of silence and destruction, untouched by empathy.
Kaemor stood at the gate, motionless, his presence like that of a statue carved for war. He said nothing. Did nothing. But his eyes stayed locked on the scene, knowing well that his reward was moments away. His mission was fulfilled. All that remained was the final act.
"There's no need for words," Rhaziel said, his voice composed and final. "What must be done… will be done. Her fate was sealed the moment she stepped back into this world. And it chose erasure."
His gaze fell upon her like a judgment. "She's been running for too long. But even a ghost must face the blade eventually."
There was no doubt left in that room—no light, no hope. Not unless someone… anyone… chose to defy the inevitable.
"Despite those wounds... you're still clinging to life," he murmured, voice cold and eerily calm. "Fascinating. You don't look the part of a survivor, and yet here you are, refusing to break."
He crouched slightly, eyes narrowing as if inspecting a fragile artifact too stubborn to crack.
"But that resilience won't save you now. If anything, it's the reason you must endure what comes next. No more running from the weight you've carried. No more illusion of hope."
He stood tall again, his tone deepening.
"Take comfort in this: your suffering ends today. You'll be freed—from pain, from memory, from identity itself. This… is Severance."
He raised his palm directly above her, and from it radiated an aura of pale white outlined in a sinister crimson—hungry, volatile, and unmistakable. This was the infamous energy known as Soul Severance, the force that had wiped countless names from existence. Now, it was poised to bring a bitter end to Chiaki's long, grueling path through the Vast Expanse.
"Ready yourself," Rhaziel said, his voice quiet yet absolute. "Soon, your mind will be hollow—emptied of fear, of pain, of memory. No more burdens. No more identity. From this moment on… you'll finally be at peace."
Just as the ritual was about to begin, a thunderous impact echoed from beyond the chamber walls—sharp, sudden, and impossible to ignore. Kaemor's posture shifted instantly; his instincts flared as he turned toward the source, muscles tensing, unsure of what—or who—was approaching.
Rhaziel halted. His hand, still pulsing with the Severance aura, dropped to his side. Without a word, he turned his head, then his entire body, toward the disturbance. The ritual was put on hold, the air thick with an unspoken tension.
"…We're not alone," Rhaziel murmured, voice calm yet alert, eyes narrowing as the silence between heartbeats tightened.
Kaemor's gloved fists tensed near his sides, the cord coiled tightly around his right arm like a ready weapon. "No one could've followed me… right?" he muttered under his breath, unease flickering in his voice. The thought gnawed at him—he was certain he hadn't been tracked. He would've sensed a presence, especially after his fight with Chiaki. And yet… something was here. Something had slipped past him.
Then it happened—an instant rupture in reality.
A low tremor pulsed through the ground like the beat of distant war drums, thudding in rhythm with an unseen wrath. Cracks splintered across the chamber wall. And then—
It exploded.
A violent eruption of stone and steel shredded the silence, obliterating the barrier in a swirl of blazing fire. Shards of the wall spiraled through the room like a storm of shrapnel, spinning with such force they carved trails through the air. The inferno behind it surged in, wild and untamed, its center pulsing with a sudden bolt of static-blue lightning.
Through the chaos, something dropped like a god's judgment.
A figure descended like a meteor, cloaked in smoke and flashing embers, trailing arcs of electric blue flame. His body rotated once midair—then he struck.
A single foot, bathed in roaring azure fire, crashed into the floor like divine fury. The impact didn't just echo—it detonated. A pulse of energy cracked the room's foundation as time blinked—and in that same fraction of breath, he vanished.
No—he reappeared.
Midair. Face-to-face with Rhaziel.
His boot collided with Rhaziel's face like thunder given form. Not once. Not twice. It was a barrage compressed into one unstoppable, explosive moment—one soul-shaking, three-fold shockwave that hurled Rhaziel off his feet like a ragdoll caught in a typhoon.
The chamber shuddered. Rhaziel's body was launched across the room, smashing into the stone wall with such force it splintered wide open, fractured like brittle ice beneath a sledgehammer.
And then—he stood.
Through the falling smoke and glowing wreckage, the figure straightened from his crouch. Blue fire trailed up his body like a living spirit, wrapping his limbs, his gloved arm twitching as he rolled his shoulder back into place. Sparks danced from his fingertips. His expression? Unreadable. Composed. Absolute.
There, in the center of a broken world, the storm had a name. And it had just arrived.
He said nothing. Not a single word escaped his lips.
Temoshí simply stood there—arm slightly raised as he adjusted his glove with deliberate precision, the soft crackle of blue fire flickering along his knuckles. His gaze locked onto Rhaziel like a blade being drawn. Cold, focused, and unyielding. The man who dared try to sever Chiaki's soul—he was the only thing in his vision now.
Temoshí hadn't forgotten their argument. The tension, the clashing ideals. But none of that mattered anymore. This wasn't about pride or conflict. This was about someone he refused to lose. A friend. A crewmate. His childhood companion. Someone who had stood beside him through every storm.
He wouldn't let her die here.
But he hadn't found this place on his own. No, standing silently behind him—hidden in the drifting ash and flickering shadows—was the one who guided him here.
A masked figure.
Blythe.
Chiaki's older brother, the man who once claimed he wouldn't interfere, who let Kaemor take her without resistance. Yet now, here he was. Watching. Knowing that if he let his sister vanish, if her soul were torn apart—he'd never recover from it.
Even if he'd convinced himself otherwise.
In the end, he knew. No goal, no plan, no order from above... was worth more than the bond of blood.
Family first. Everything else could wait.
Kaemor stood frozen for a moment, barely able to process the sight before him.
Rhaziel—his commander, the one no one dared challenge—was embedded in the wall just meters away, shards of stone crumbling off his body like dust. The sheer force of the blow, the speed at which it had landed… it didn't make sense.
"What… just happened?" Kaemor's thoughts raced, disbelief threading through his usually steady mind. "Rhaziel didn't even react… No—I didn't even see him move. One second, the guy appeared like lightning, and the next… Rhaziel was airborne. Just how fast is he?"
His eyes narrowed, slowly trailing toward the figure standing calmly behind the intruder—the one who brought the storm into their stronghold.
Blythe.
Composed. Silent. The same unreadable calm etched into that eerie white mask.
"…Blythe," Kaemor muttered under his breath, unsure if it was in awe, confusion, or the beginning of something far deeper unraveling.
To be continued...