High above moon-lit Elandros Island, Valkyrie cast a sideways grin at Thunder.
"Where should we start?" she asked in a teasing lilt.
"Where?" Thunder echoed, ember eyes alight with mischief. "The whole island is our hunting ground. Too many people. We clear them first—then we search."
Valkyrie looked utterly unsurprised, as though she'd hoped for that answer.
"So who gets the killing?" she purred.
"Me, of course." Thunder spoke as if the decision were carved in stone.
She crossed her arms, pouting. "No. I want to kill them. I haven't spilled blood in ages."
Thunder offered a thin smile. "How about I handle this one, and you take the next one?"
A heartbeat passed. Then Valkyrie rolled her eyes—yet the corners of her lips curled upward. "Fine. But I'm taking the next massacre."
Thunder raised his right hand. Lightning cracked open the sky. Within that roaring storm a long sword materialised—pure electricity coiled around its luminous blade, as though the weapon were forged from living thunder.
He grasped the hilt. Boom. A sonic shockwave exploded as he shot higher. From the blazing sword-core he drew a single, monumental bolt that burned white against the night. Islanders craned their necks; it was as if a second sun had risen above them.
"Lightning Needles."
The titan-bolt shattered into thousands of shimmering spears. They rained down in a white torrent. In mere seconds, screams were snuffed out; streets fell silent; vibrant life became charred ruin.
Thunder hovered in the cooling air, every crackle of power reflected in his amber gaze.
"Let's go," he called.
Valkyrie glided beside him, searching the island for half an hour.
"No artifact," she noted softly. "What a pity. They died for nothing."
Her laugh drifted out—sweet, girlish, and yet so cold the very breeze seemed to flinch. Murderous intent rolled off her like frost.
Thunder frowned. "Wait a moment." He ascended again, lightning spiralling around him like a crown of wrath. The clouds churned into a cyclone of light.
"Crack of Ruin."
A hemispherical storm blossomed. Thousands of fresh bolts hammered the island. Rock split; towers shattered; the very sea roared open to swallow land. In one breath, Elandros Island—once prosperous, bustling, alive—fell into the ocean, nothing left but boiling water and drifting ash.
Thunder drifted back down. "Now we're done."
Valkyrie chuckled, eyes glittering with savage delight. Together they vanished into the star-strewn sky, leaving only steam and silence behind.
---
Far away—a solitary figure floated above a different battlefield. He gazed down at scattered demons with eyes of burnished gold, expression unreadable. Lucien de Emberfall Galespire looked like a prophecy made flesh: tall, graceful, golden hair flowing as if spun from sunlight, jaw and cheekbones cut with impossible precision.
His armour gleamed pristine white, accented by faint silver sigils. A long cape fluttered behind, pure and regal. Not a mark blemished his plate, though demonic carcasses littered the ground below.
Lucien slid his radiant sword free. Light cascaded along its edge like liquid dawn.
"Vaporize."
A wave of luminance swept forward; demons melted on the spot, collapsing to ash and leaving behind dull magic stones. One twisted creature managed to scramble away. Lucien flicked his blade—silver light flashed—and the demon fell in two silent halves, another stone clinking beside the pile.
A ripple of air announced a second presence. A woman appeared at his side—calm, poised, and hauntingly beautiful. Ilyanna: midnight-black hair flowing like ink, steel-grey eyes holding both sorrow and determination. Her knight-dress, layered beneath silver-toned armour, whispered with every subtle movement; ancient runes traced her pauldrons, and a travel-worn cloak billowed in the breeze.
"Lucien," she said, voice gentle yet edged with steel, "the Nameless Society has surfaced again."
Lucien's golden gaze sharpened. "Where?"
"They manifested and vanished—same as always," she replied, a note of regret colouring her words.
"What did they do this time?"
Ilyanna drew in a slow breath. "They destroyed Elandros Island. Nothing remains."
Pain flickered across Lucien's face, quickly quelled. He sheathed his sword with a soft metallic click.
"Then where are we needed next?"
"Green Valley," Ilyanna answered. "The others will be there. We should hurry."
Lucien nodded once. Light blossomed beneath their feet, and the two warriors disappeared into the clouds—streaks of white against an endless sky.