Elsewhere—
Far from the burning military sky port—
armored figures raced through Blackwater's upper districts.
Steel bridges blurred beneath their feet.
Crowds scattered out of the way as disciplined formations swept through the streets like a living tide of steel.
Above them, transit rails thundered overhead while crimson warning lights flashed relentlessly across the skyline.
The entire eastern district could already see the fires.
Thick columns of smoke rose into the night sky.
Explosions echoed continuously throughout the city.
The military sky port was under attack.
And the Holy Empire had finally mobilized.
At the head of the advancing force—
a young woman moved with calm, measured steps despite the urgency surrounding her.
Long brown hair flowed behind her.
Golden eyes remained fixed on the distant pillars of smoke rising into the heavens.
Princess Aurelia.
Holy-white armor gleamed beneath the flashing city lights while sacred runes shimmered faintly across its surface.
Around her—
dozens of Holy Knights advanced in perfect formation.
Disciplined.
Silent.
Ready for war.
To her right—
a tall young man with black hair and piercing blue eyes moved alongside her.
Lucan Calvorn.
One hand rested upon the hilt of the longsword at his waist while his gaze remained locked on the burning horizon.
His expression was calm.
Steady.
Focused.
Behind them—
additional knight formations followed closely.
Priests.
Templars.
Battle mages.
The streets trembled beneath the immense concentration of holy mana moving through Blackwater.
Then—
one of the knights receiving communications from the front suddenly stiffened.
His face paled.
"...Another report."
Commander Roland immediately turned.
"What now?"
The knight swallowed.
"The situation at the sky port has worsened."
Aurelia's eyes narrowed slightly.
"Worsened how?"
The knight hesitated.
Then spoke.
"...Several defensive platforms have been destroyed."
A pause.
"Multiple officers have been confirmed dead."
The surrounding knights grew noticeably colder.
Roland's expression darkened.
"And the attackers?"
The knight lowered his gaze toward the communication crystal.
"...Still alive."
Silence.
That answer alone spoke volumes.
Because everyone present understood exactly how heavily defended the military sky port was.
For the attackers to still be alive—
something had gone catastrophically wrong.
Lucan's voice finally broke the silence.
"How many enemies?"
The knight checked the report again.
Then blinked.
"...Two."
The advancing formation nearly stumbled.
Several knights exchanged disbelieving looks.
Roland frowned.
"...Two?"
The knight nodded.
"That's what the report says."
A pause.
"Two attackers."
Silence settled over the group.
Then one knight muttered quietly,
"...That's impossible."
Nobody disagreed.
Because it should have been.
An entire military district thrown into chaos by only two people?
It sounded absurd.
Then another message arrived through the crystal.
The knight receiving it froze.
His eyes widened.
"...Commander."
Roland immediately noticed his expression.
"What is it?"
The knight slowly raised his head.
"...The report says one of the attackers is using blood magic."
Several Holy Knights stiffened instantly.
Aurelia's gaze sharpened.
Lucan's hand tightened around his sword hilt.
The knight continued.
"Large-scale blood constructs."
"Mass-casualty capability."
"Possible high-ranking demon."
Silence followed.
Then another knight spoke.
"...Demons?"
Roland's face hardened.
"Are they certain?"
The messenger hesitated.
"...No."
A pause.
"But that is the current assessment."
The group continued moving.
Faster now.
Holy mana surged through the formation.
The streets blurred beneath them.
Then another report arrived.
The knight reading it suddenly stopped.
Completely.
"...No."
Roland's voice sharpened.
"Speak."
The knight slowly lifted his head.
His face had gone deathly pale.
"...The flagship."
Silence.
"...What about it?"
The knight's lips moved.
For a moment—
no sound came out.
Then finally—
"...The flagship has been destroyed."
Everything stopped.
Footsteps.
Movement.
Breathing.
Silence.
Absolute silence.
Roland stared at him.
"...Repeat that."
The knight swallowed hard.
"The flagship was destroyed."
A pause.
"Direct hit."
"The vessel suffered catastrophic structural damage before its mana core detonated."
Nobody spoke.
Nobody could.
Even Aurelia stood motionless.
Golden eyes fixed upon the messenger.
The words hung over the street like a curse.
**The flagship has been destroyed.**
For several heartbeats—
nobody moved.
Nobody spoke.
Even the distant explosions rolling across Blackwater seemed strangely muted.
Then—
Aurelia stepped forward.
Golden eyes calm.
Focused.
Not shocked.
Not panicked.
Simply calculating.
"If the reports are accurate..."
Her gaze lifted toward the burning horizon.
"...then every second matters."
Commander Roland immediately straightened.
"Your Highness—"
"You will continue leading the main force."
Aurelia's voice left no room for argument.
"Establish control over the military district."
"Protect civilians."
"Coordinate with surviving imperial forces."
Then her gaze shifted toward the black-haired young man beside her.
"Lucan."
Lucan nodded once.
Already understanding.
"I'll accompany you."
Roland frowned.
"Your Highness, that's too dangerous."
"The attackers destroyed an Imperial flagship."
A pause.
"We don't even know what we're facing."
Aurelia's expression remained unchanged.
"Exactly."
Golden sparks began dancing across her armor.
Tiny arcs of holy lightning crawled along the engraved runes.
"If the situation has escalated to this point..."
"...then sending ordinary knights ahead would only increase casualties."
The holy mana surrounding her intensified.
The air trembled.
Nearby knights instinctively stepped backward.
Commander Roland's jaw tightened.
Yet he knew arguing further was pointless.
Because once Aurelia made a decision—
she rarely changed it.
"...Understood."
Aurelia gave a small nod.
"Bring the others when you can."
Then—
golden lightning erupted.
CRACK!!
The street beneath her feet shattered.
Holy energy exploded outward in a brilliant flash.
**HOLY BLESSING: DIVINE JUDGEMENT**
Golden lightning wrapped around her body.
Not ordinary mana.
Not ordinary holy power.
Something older.
Something far more dangerous.
The surrounding air screamed.
CRAAAAAACK!!
A bolt of golden light shot forward through the city.
Aurelia vanished.
Entire sections of roadway exploded behind her from the acceleration alone.
Storefront windows shattered.
Street lamps bent sideways.
Pedestrians looked up in shock as a streak of golden lightning tore across the skyline.
Lucan moved immediately.
Holy mana erupted around him.
Gold-white light engulfed his body.
The street beneath him collapsed.
He launched forward after her.
Far faster than any ordinary knight.
Yet even then—
Aurelia continued pulling ahead.
Golden lightning flashed repeatedly across Blackwater's upper districts.
One bridge.
Then another.
Then another.
Each step carried her hundreds of meters.
Buildings blurred.
Transit rails vanished behind her.
The burning military sky port grew larger with every heartbeat.
Smoke filled the horizon.
Flames illuminated the clouds.
And above it all—
the burning remains of the destroyed flagship continued falling from the sky.
Aurelia's eyes narrowed.
Because even from this distance—
she could feel it.
A presence.
Cold.
Heavy.
Violent.
A lingering pressure hanging over the battlefield itself.
Demonic.
CRACK!!
Another burst of lightning.
She crossed an entire district.
Behind her—
Lucan followed through the night sky wrapped in holy mana.
His expression had grown increasingly serious.
Because now—
he could feel it too.
The battlefield ahead no longer felt like a military engagement.
It felt like a disaster.
A blue-white barrier erupted into existence before the Imperial mage.
The incoming arrow struck it instantly.
BOOOOOM!!
The barrier trembled violently.
Cracks spread across its surface like shattered glass.
Yet it held.
Barely.
The mage staggered backward several steps, eyes widening beneath his hood.
"How is every shot this strong?!"
Mana surged through the formation circle beneath his feet.
A second circle unfolded above it.
Then a third.
Lightning gathered.
Snapping violently through the air.
Unlike formation circles—which were generally classified from One-Star to Five-Star according to complexity and power—the spells mages actually wielded were categorized differently.
Over centuries, countless mages had modified existing spells, refined ancient formulas, fused separate constructs together, or created entirely new techniques from scratch.
Because of that—
spells possessed their own ranking system.
From First Rank.
To Ninth Rank.
The higher the rank—
the more destructive.
The more complex.
And the more mana required.
Above the battlefield—
the Imperial mage completed his casting.
A massive silver formation circle unfolded behind him.
Lightning exploded outward.
**Third-Rank Spell: Lightning Arrow**
CRAAAAACK!!
A spear of condensed lightning shot across the battlefield toward Draven.
Fast.
Precise.
Lethal.
Draven's crimson eyes shifted.
The bow moved.
TWANG.
A blue mana arrow left the string.
The two attacks met head-on.
BOOOOOOM!!
Lightning and mana detonated midair.
A shockwave burst outward across the burning military district.
The lightning spear shattered.
Draven's arrow continued forward.
The mage's eyes widened.
"...What?!"
The remaining force smashed into his defensive barrier.
CRAAASH!!
The already weakened shield exploded apart.
The mage immediately retreated.
Desperately forming another circle.
Too slow.
TWANG.
A second arrow appeared.
The moment the first barrier collapsed—
Draven had already fired again.
The mage's face turned pale.
The arrow crossed the distance instantly.
BOOOOOM!!
The platform beneath him disappeared.
Steel exploded.
Flames erupted skyward.
The mage vanished inside the blast.
Nearby soldiers instinctively flinched.
And Draven was already moving again.
Like a phantom.
Like a predator.
Arrows formed.
Released.
Formed again.
Every shot claimed another target.
Every movement left destruction in its wake.
Meanwhile—
far below—
Aldric's blade carved through another collapsing formation.
CRAAAAASH!!
Holy barriers shattered.
Knights were hurled backward.
Flames danced across his sword.
Then—
mid-swing—
Aldric's gaze shifted.
His grin widened.
"...Ah."
A pause.
"There they are."
The words were casual.
Yet something in his voice immediately drew attention.
Even Draven glanced sideways.
Only for a brief moment.
Then—
the night exploded.
CRAAAAAAAAACK!!!
A bolt of golden lightning descended from the heavens.
Not ordinary lightning.
Holy lightning.
The battlefield vanished beneath blinding gold.
Soldiers shielded their eyes.
Searchlights became invisible.
Smoke evaporated.
For one breathtaking second—
it looked as though a fragment of the sun itself had fallen into Blackwater.
BOOOOOOOM!!
The impact shattered an entire military platform.
Steel buckled.
Cracks spread through reinforced structures.
Golden energy surged outward in a massive ring.
The battlefield froze.
Everyone looked.
Imperial soldiers.
Holy knights.
Crossfall observers.
Syrian.
Even the hidden bounty hunters rushing toward the sky port.
Every gaze locked onto the center of the explosion.
The golden light slowly faded.
And a figure stood there.
Long brown hair.
Holy-white armor.
Golden eyes.
Lightning crawled across sacred runes engraved into her armor.
The air itself seemed to bend around her presence.
Princess Aurelia.
Silence.
Then—
someone whispered.
"...The Saint Princess."
Another soldier immediately dropped to one knee.
Others followed.
Even wounded knights straightened instinctively.
Hope surged through the Imperial ranks.
Because she was here.
Far away—
one of the hidden Crossfall members swallowed.
"...Well."
A pause.
"That's bad."
The masked woman stared toward Aurelia.
Then laughed softly.
"...Very bad."
Another pause.
"...And very good."
Syrian remained silent.
Watching.
Because even from this distance—
she could feel it.
The pressure surrounding Aurelia wasn't normal.
It felt ancient.
Sacred.
Powerful enough to alter the entire battlefield simply by arriving.
Above—
golden light flashed once more.
A second figure descended.
BOOOOOM!!
A smaller impact followed.
Black hair.
Blue eyes.
Holy mana surrounding his body.
A longsword rested at his side.
Lucan Calvorn.
He landed beside Aurelia and immediately surveyed the battlefield.
The burning platforms.
The dead soldiers.
The shattered defenses.
The ruined warships.
And finally—
his gaze settled on the two figures responsible.
Aldric.
And Draven.
For several long seconds—
nobody moved.
The battlefield stood suspended between chaos and silence.
Flames burned.
Smoke drifted.
Wreckage continued falling from the sky.
Then—
Aurelia's golden eyes slowly rose.
Meeting the crimson glow beneath Draven's hood.
And for the first time since arriving—
Draven stopped drawing his bow.
The two simply looked at one another.
Across a battlefield littered with fire, blood, and corpses.
Something invisible seemed to pass between them.
Recognition.
Instinct.
Danger.
Aldric slowly rested his sword across one shoulder.
His grin widened further.
Because he could already tell.
The real fight had finally arrived.