Everyone stared upward.
Then someone shouted—
"RUN!"
The spell broke.
Panic erupted across the battlefield in an instant.
The first soldier turned and fled.
Then another.
Then dozens.
Then hundreds.
And only then did the realization finally strike them all at once.
This wasn't an attack.
This was a disaster.
A crimson sky, filled with thousands upon thousands of blood constructs, descended over the military sky port like a falling judgment.
Like rain.
Like fate.
Like death itself.
"GET OUT OF THE WAY!"
"SHIELDS!"
"BARRIERS!"
"MOVE!"
Mages desperately triggered defensive spells in rapid succession.
Holy knights slammed their shields together, forming unstable defensive walls.
Mercenaries abandoned formations entirely, sprinting in blind desperation.
Bounty hunters vanished into the chaos, choosing survival over discipline.
And above it all—
the crimson storm fell.
SHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH—
The sound alone made skin crawl, an unnatural pressure pressing down from the sky as if the world itself was being crushed.
Then—
impact.
BOOOOOOOOOOOOM!!
A blood spear struck a platform.
Steel simply ceased to exist.
A second impact followed moments later.
Then a third.
Then hundreds more.
CRASH!!
BOOOM!!
CRAAAAASH!!
The military sky port was swallowed beneath relentless explosions.
Entire sections collapsed inward, folding under the pressure of annihilation.
Fire erupted everywhere at once, consuming wood, steel, and mana alike.
Defensive barriers shattered one after another like fragile glass under a hammer.
Even the sky seemed to bleed red with each detonation.
Andrew's expression changed instantly.
"Protective formations!"
Behind him, six rotating magic circles flared to life, spinning with violent intensity.
A massive barrier unfolded around him, layered and reinforced.
The first blood constructs struck.
BOOOOOOOM!!
The barrier trembled violently.
Then another impact landed.
And another.
And another.
Explosions engulfed the Sixth-Circle Mage from every direction, each strike layering pressure upon pressure.
Below him—
Aurelia's emergency barrier was struck repeatedly, golden light flickering under the strain as cracks spread like veins.
Lucan unleashed divine flames outward, burning away incoming constructs mid-air.
Roland expanded his protective domain, shielding nearby imperial soldiers as best as he could.
Even then—
it wasn't enough.
People were still dying.
The battlefield had become absolute chaos.
Above the destruction—
Aldric simply watched.
Black wings spread wide behind him, unmoving.
His grin slowly returned, sharp and unrestrained.
"See?"
He gestured toward the collapsing battlefield below.
"Now everybody gets to suffer together."
Draven stood beside him in silence.
His crimson eyes swept across the devastation, unblinking.
Then toward the horizon.
More lights.
More mana signatures.
More enemies.
Far more than before.
Dozens of powerful figures were approaching—some even independent powerhouses drawn by the catastrophe.
Aldric noticed his gaze and tilted his head slightly.
"Yeah."
A brief pause.
"I wasn't joking."
Another massive explosion lit up the battlefield beneath them.
BOOOOOOOM!!
Several blood constructs detonated against Andrew's barrier at once.
The mage's expression darkened further, strain visible even from afar.
Aldric folded one wing slightly, as if settling a decision.
"We leave now."
Draven glanced once more toward Aurelia.
The Saint Princess was still alive.
Protected.
Wounded.
But alive.
For several seconds, neither of them moved.
Then Draven quietly looked away.
Aldric nodded once.
"Good choice."
Suddenly—
a massive pillar of fire erupted upward from the battlefield.
Andrew's voice thundered across the shattered sky port.
"YOU'RE NOT ESCAPING!"
The blood constructs surrounding him detonated outward as he forced them apart.
From the inferno, the Sixth-Circle Mage emerged—damaged, scorched, but still airborne.
Still casting.
Still dangerous.
Aldric looked up.
Then laughed softly.
"…Persistent bastard."
BOOOOOOOM!!
Crimson mana exploded from his body once more, rippling outward like a tide.
The remaining blood constructs immediately shifted direction.
Thousands of crimson weapons surged toward Andrew simultaneously, blotting out the sky.
The world disappeared beneath red.
Andrew's eyes widened.
For the first time since arriving—
his concentration broke.
And that single moment was all it took.
Aldric's hand shot out, gripping Draven's shoulder.
Space distorted violently.
Blood-red mana twisted around them like a vortex.
The battlefield froze in a single suspended instant.
Aurelia's eyes widened in shock.
Lucan immediately stepped forward.
Roland shouted something, unheard beneath the chaos.
Andrew's spell reached completion—
but it was too late.
The world rippled.
Then—
Aldric grinned one last time.
"Try not to die before we meet again."
The blood storm swallowed the sky in an instant.
BOOOOOOOOOOOOM!!
And when the light of destruction faded—
they were gone.
No trace remained where they had stood.
Only silence followed.
A ruined military sky port.
A shattered flagship.
Thousands dead and wounded.
And an entire battlefield staring into empty space, trying to comprehend what had just happened.
The night over Blackwater remained lit by endless fires long after their disappearance.
Far above the burning city—
Aldric flew at full speed.
Black wings tore through the night sky, slicing through wind and distance.
The city shrank rapidly behind them.
Below, explosions still echoed faintly across the ruined sky port, like distant thunder refusing to fade.
But neither Aldric nor Draven looked back.
They had escaped.
At least—
that was the plan.
SLASH!!
A flash of light erupted ahead of them.
A crimson barrier formed instantly in midair, not of Aldric's making—an imposed boundary, a warning forged from pure intent.
Aldric reacted instinctively, raising a defensive layer of blood mana.
The barrier held for less than a second.
CRAAAAACK!!
It shattered violently.
A blade arrived.
So fast it barely registered even to Aldric's perception.
CLANG!!
Draven's sword snapped upward in defense at the last possible moment.
The impact detonated between steel and steel, sending shockwaves rippling through the night sky.
Sparks burst outward like dying stars.
But even as the strike was blocked—
blood sprayed.
SHHHHK!!
A deep slash carved across Draven's side, tearing through flesh and armor alike.
His body twisted violently from the force.
At the same moment—
SHHHK!!
Aldric's arm was severed cleanly at the shoulder.
The limb spun away into the darkness, disappearing into the void below.
For a brief instant—
both of them lost balance in midair.
Draven nearly fell from the sky entirely.
But Aldric's remaining hand shot out immediately, grabbing him and stabilizing his position.
Blood dripped through the air like falling ink.
Already, his severed arm began to regenerate.
Muscle first.
Then bone.
Then flesh.
Rapid.
Relentless.
Unnatural.
They finally stabilized, hovering in the night sky.
Silent.
Still.
Watching.
Waiting.
Then—
a figure stood ahead.
Balanced casually atop a floating slab of broken steel drifting through the air.
An older woman.
Black hair tied loosely.
Sharp, predatory eyes.
A long katana rested across her shoulder as if it weighed nothing at all.
A cigarette burned faintly between her fingers, its ember glowing softly in the dark.
Smoke drifted lazily into the night sky, as though she were completely unbothered by the devastation around her.
For several seconds, no one spoke.
Then Aldric glanced down at his newly regenerated arm.
Flexed his fingers once.
Twice.
Then looked at her.
"…Damn."
A pause.
"…Bastard."
The woman took another slow drag from her cigarette.
Then exhaled.
Smoke drifted between them like a curtain.
"It's too bad."
Her gaze briefly flicked to Draven's bloodied side.
Then to Aldric's regenerated arm.
A faint smile tugged at her lips.
"I almost brought you both down."
She shrugged lightly.
"Oh well."
The katana shifted slightly on her shoulder.
"I can't fly."
Another drag.
Another exhale.
"So that's that."
Aldric stared at her for a moment.
Then snorted.
"You sound disappointed."
The woman's smile widened slightly.
"A little."
Her eyes moved to Draven.
Sharp.
Measuring.
Analyzing.
"So that's the famous Demon King's son."
Silence followed.
The cigarette ember flared brighter for a moment.
"Huh."
Her gaze lingered on the wound she had left behind—already beginning to close.
The amusement in her expression faded slightly.
"…That's annoying."
Draven said nothing.
His crimson eyes remained locked on her, unwavering.
Watching.
Judging.
Calculating.
The woman noticed immediately.
Then laughed softly.
"Relax."
She raised one hand slightly.
"I'm not stupid enough to keep fighting after missing."
A pause.
"One swing."
She pointed casually toward Draven.
"That's all I got."
Then toward Aldric.
"And one arm."
Aldric grinned faintly.
"You should've aimed for my head."
The woman nodded.
"Yeah."
"I know."
That answer made his grin widen.
For a brief moment, none of them moved.
Yet the pressure in the air only deepened.
Because all of them understood the truth.
She had struck once.
Only once.
And she had nearly succeeded.
That alone made her extremely dangerous.
The cigarette slowly burned down.
Then—
she flicked it away into the darkness.
A tiny spark spiraled downward toward the burning city below.
Her hand returned to the katana—not drawing it, merely resting there.
Then she smiled again.
Lazy.
Unbothered.
The kind of smile worn by someone far too comfortable standing among monsters.
"Well."
Her gaze moved between them.
"Next time we meet…"
The smile sharpened slightly.
"…try not to be half dead."
Far below, Blackwater continued to burn.
And for the first time that night—
even Aldric's grin wasn't quite as certain as before.