Ice exhaled deeply, the kind of breath that carried weight—years of judgment and quiet calculation behind it. He turned to Zixuan and said, "There's this kid… Reinhard. One of the new recruits—but he's already ranked B. His potential…" Ice paused, as if searching for the right words among a sea of doubt. "It mirrors Ashvolt's. I'm not exaggerating. He's... spectacular."
Zixuan narrowed his eyes, measuring each word with a heavy heart. "You're putting your faith in him?"
"I am," Ice said firmly. "This mission is mostly rescue. He's the right choice—and if anyone can deliver, it's him."
Zixuan gave a slight nod, grim and slow. "Then I'll trust you... on this one."
A Few Days Later…
The dawn broke cold—biting wind snaking through every fold of fabric as if the world itself was warning them. The Orders gathered. Silent. Disciplined. Resolved.
From the ranks of the Sorcerers came Asir, Boron, and Julius—power humming from them like unsheathed blades.
The Hunters stood tall: Maazin, Quill, and Advik—each bearing their scars like medals.
And finally, the Assassins—Ice, Zixuan, and Reinhard, their steps quiet but thunderous with intent.
They approached the base of Aria of Veins through the main gate—no more games, no more subterfuge. A confrontation carved into destiny.
What they saw first nearly stopped their breath. Nana.
Her body, headless and discarded, lay like a shattered statue of a forgotten warrior. Ice and Zixuan stared. Time seemed to slow. Zixuan tried—desperately—not to let grief overtake him… but a single tear betrayed him, sliding silently down his cheek.
"Why you, Nana…" he whispered, voice like the wind after a funeral bell.
They moved forward.
And there he was—Noct—perched atop a rusted pole, high above the earth like a false god surveying his kingdom. His presence split the sky with tension, like thunder waiting to break.
Their eyes shifted—Zeph was still alive. But barely. He fought with everything left in him—each breath dragged like a blade across his soul. His movements were trembling, desperate—yet noble. Like a soldier who knew the odds but still refused to kneel.
Then Noct turned.
Eyes locking with Zixuan, his voice rang down like venom wrapped in amusement. "Who the fuck are you?"
From the ground, Zeph—broken, scorched, with lungs struggling to hold life—lifted his head with every ounce of defiance left in his bones.
With a rasped snarl, he roared
"He's humanity's fucking last hope, bitch."