The battlefield roared like a wounded beast.
Steel clashed against mutated sigils.
Flames raged through the broken earth.
The sky was choked with black smoke and the cries of those too stubborn to die.
It was not a battle for territory.
Not for power.
It was a battle for the soul of the world.
The Purifiers swept forward like a flood — armored titans with Systems twisted by hatred and fear.
They moved with brutal precision:
Spears that drained life with a touch.
Shields that reflected hopes into nightmares.
Beasts of pure corrupted light tearing through ranks of defenders.
They believed themselves unstoppable.
But the Children of the Abyss were not so easily broken.
They did not stand in perfect lines.
They did not march in lockstep.
They moved like a living storm — individuals fueled by dreams, fury, and the stubborn belief that they deserved to exist.
They fought with:
Weapons forged from forgotten love.
Systems born of broken souls pieced back together by willpower.
Hope as their strongest armor.
Arin led the charge, her Blade of Dawn and Dusk screaming through the air, cutting down Purifier captains like wheat before a reaper.
Every strike of her blade burned with both abyssal black and celestial gold — a fusion unseen since the beginning of the world.
Sira, weaving through the chaos, healed fallen allies with hands glowing silver and black —
restoring not only flesh but shattered Systems.
Every life she saved became another spark of rebellion against the Purifiers' vision of a "pure" world.
Kael, surrounded by shimmering golden runes, predicted and countered the Purifiers' movements before they could even attack —
a living chessmaster dancing through a battlefield of blood.
Drayce, laughing like a madman, slammed into Purifier elites with fists wrapped in molten lightning —
a one-man army tearing gaps into enemy ranks.
The Children of the Abyss fought harder.
Not because they hated.
But because they loved.
Because they remembered Kai Arashi's sacrifice —
and they knew they fought not for vengeance,
but for choice.
In the heart of the battle,
the Purifier Commander — the figure in shattered golden armor — advanced toward Arin.
The Commander's blade, a weapon built from the broken Heroic Sigils of a hundred fallen warriors, gleamed with deadly purpose.
They pointed it at Arin and roared:
"You are the last flame of corruption.
You will die today — and the world will be clean once more!"
Arin lifted her blade.
She smiled — not with arrogance.
But with certainty.
"Then come."
The two forces collided.
Their clash sent shockwaves through the battlefield —
sending both armies stumbling back, shielding their eyes from the blinding collision of forces.
Above it all,
hidden by clouds,
Kai's spirit watched.
Not with sorrow.
Not with regret.
But with a quiet, unbreakable pride.
This was the world he died for.
A world where even in the face of monsters,
the broken dared to fight back.
The battle raged on.
And the future teetered on a blade's edge.