The sky bled crimson.
Flames danced across the ruined battlefield, licking the corpses of the fallen and painting the air with the scent of scorched flesh. Smoke twisted like phantoms, choking every breath, and the once-solid earth had turned into a grave of molten veins.
Kaizen Ryouma stood alone in the heart of the devastation, barely conscious, blood dripping from his chin. His right arm hung shattered, bones visible. The last of his strength flickered like dying embers. Around him, the remnants of Squad Umbra writhed in agony or lay motionless. Krovar's rampage had left nothing untouched.
And yet, something wasn't right.
Not the silence.
Not the stillness.
Something deeper. A pull. A whisper in the ashes.
"Ayaka..." he murmured, eyes flickering with fading light. He remembered her voice calling out—desperate, crying his name—but even that memory felt fractured now. Distant.
Then the ground trembled.
At first, like a breath. Then, like a scream.
From the northern sky, the clouds tore apart like old fabric. A colossal surge of energy pulsed from beyond the smoke, far greater than any Bist attack they'd encountered.
And with it came him.
Zar'Vok's silhouette loomed over the horizon—not marching—but floating, suspended by some unknown power, his cloak shredded, revealing veins glowing with a sickening violet light. But... there was something different. His aura was not alone.
Behind him, thousands of Bists began appearing—not from portals—but from underground caverns cracking open like rotted skin. They didn't growl. They didn't roar.
They bowed.
Every single one.
Kaizen's eyes widened as a haunting, ancient voice echoed directly in his mind.
"You are not Veinborn... You are a Curseborn."
The world froze. Kaizen fell to his knees, coughing blood. What was that voice?
"Your power was never meant to protect. It was forged to consume."
Suddenly, a sharp jolt of memory blasted through him—visions of a sealed chamber beneath his childhood home, his father standing before an altar, his mother whispering a name he had buried deep in trauma.
"I'm sorry, Kaizen... You were never meant to awaken."
Kaizen screamed, his veins glowing with a sinister dark-red hue. His mark—the sigil on his chest—twisted, reshaping itself like it was alive. The surrounding Bists paused, sensing something... sacred? Or terrifying?
Ayaka, wounded but conscious, rushed to him—but even she stumbled back when she saw the transformation.
"Kaizen...?" she whispered, voice trembling.
He looked up. His eyes no longer held fire. They held a void.
And then Zar'Vok descended, hovering just above the battlefield. His voice, ancient and thunderous, echoed through every living soul:
"Let the world know the truth. The Veinborn are extinct. All that remains... is him."
"The last Curseborn."
Kaizen stared at him, not with rage. Not with fear.
But with understanding.
"I know who I am now."