Prufen trembled. The world had not been at peace since Roland and his troops arrived. Astral energy surged, piercing bone. Some inhabitants writhed in agony. Muscles tightened, bones protruded through skin—then they died… in voiceless screams. Chaos spread like a plague. The stench of death hung in every corner.
Roland stepped forward and scoffed.
"Someone's been messing with this place."
His eyes glowed—not with rage, but with the certainty that he still had control.
"No matter. As long as they haven't escaped my grasp."
He wanted to see Huria and the Elf Chief immediately. But his steps were halted by a familiar voice—calm, and annoyingly smug.
"I'll check on them," said Zephyr, lounging on a pile of stones.
"You still have... unfinished business, don't you?"
Roland paused. True. The Batel Cutter's seal had not fully opened. Only he could do it. He began chanting, channeling energy from Marva's unconscious body. The stone casket on the altar began to tremble—levitate. Around it, astral butterflies swarmed. When a gap opened like a gate, the Batel Cutter vanished… swallowed by the light, followed by small glowing creatures pulled into it.
---
Meanwhile, Zephyr walked into the holding chamber.
"Huria… what's it like being married to a man like him?" he asked with a crooked smile.
"You left the human world, your parents, for him. And him? He let his own parents be slaughtered before his eyes."
Huria stayed silent. Her gaze dulled. His words struck hard. Yet a part of her refused to believe—Enver couldn't be that cruel… right?
"You should've known. This is the astral world, not a fairytale. You're just part of a long experiment."
"No," Huria whispered. "He's not the useless one… you are."
Zephyr stopped. His eyes narrowed.
"Brave words from someone who's about to… disappear."
He gripped the cell bars. Suddenly, Huria's body felt heavy, pulled into both light and shadow. She trembled, her lips parted but made no sound. Her scream… was swallowed.
"You… used his power?" Huria gasped weakly.
Zephyr didn't answer. He turned to the Elf Chief.
"I need something from you. You know what."
The Elf Chief looked uneasy.
"Didn't… that man already take it?"
Zephyr approached. His hand pierced the Chief's crown, extracting a glowing white spirit.
"Roland only tasted it. I want the rest. But don't worry. You won't die… yet."
His grin was revolting.
He bit the spirit, chewed slowly.
"Not bad. Soft. A bit sweet."
Suddenly, flesh peeled from the backs of Huria and the Elf Chief—falling off like petals. Zephyr savored every part.
"This is what Roland's been hiding from me…"
He dragged both of them toward the now-open altar. But his steps halted. Roland stood there, eyes ablaze—eyes of a god who had lost his patience.
"You've gone too far."
Zephyr wasn't afraid.
"I helped you get this far. But your eyes... ugh. Disgusting."
Roland didn't reply. He raised his hand. Rings of fire erupted from the ground, engulfing Zephyr. But this was no ordinary fire. It was fire from the earth's core. Primordial. Unquenchable. Unavoidable.
Zephyr screamed. His body burned—but did not die.
Roland then dragged Huria and the Elf Chief to the altar's pit. Black hands welcomed them. From within his cloak, he pulled two corpses: Wirly and Moren. Enver's parents. He tossed them into the darkness.
"My plan… is complete."
---
Zephyr writhed on the ground. Burned. But his eyes hadn't lost their light. He hated Roland. But… he once loved him. Back then, Roland was the only one who reached out when everyone else turned away. Since his parents murdered each other, Zephyr had lived in silence. Enver… never came for him.
But now, his resolve was clear.
Roland must die. Sooner or later.
---
Within the altar, Batel Cutter's hands gripped the bodies of Huria and the Elf Chief. From behind the energy veil, someone watched with a faint smile. Waiting for the perfect time.
---
Elsewhere, Roland received a report:
"He was found at the cliffs. Unconscious. But… his body has merged with the ground."
Roland frowned.
"Idiots. Why only now?"
He flew off. Behind him, his followers began evacuating all of Prufen's residents to a single location. The reason: an alleged demon attack beyond the gate. But in truth… it was all bait.
---
In a private chamber, Jassel stood before Thadric.
"I'll make it right," he said. "Your mother's death… and my two best friends."
Thadric remained silent, eyes filled with pain and vengeance.
"Take care of yourself. Don't become like me. A failed guardian. A failed husband. A… cowardly father."
The past weighed heavy on the room.
Roland loved Moren. But Moren chose Wirly. Roland killed them both. Jassel—then still a mere human—was forced to transfer their souls into new bodies, or his son, Thadric, would be the price.
In the Hellseher arena, two corpses rose. Enver screamed from the stands. Zephyr watched… silently.
—
Now, Jassel knew—his time was up.
He began chanting a summoning spell.
"Ceeka…"
But suddenly, the world shifted. The room exploded, and he was pulled into the fourth astral realm. There, Zephyr awaited.
"You…" Jassel gasped. "That child…"
Zephyr only laughed.
"Funny. None of you looked at me since that day. But I was always there. Silent. Watching."
Astral beings began to swarm. Zephyr pointed at them.
"Fight. One hour. Or you'll turn to dust."
Jassel had no time to speak. A wave of astral creatures surged. He fought back, but there were too many. Too strong.
They tore him apart. Bit by bit. Breath by breath. Until Jassel collapsed.
Zephyr walked slowly… then severed his head.
Silence.
Then… he brought him back.
They returned to the original room.
Zephyr smiled.
"Jassel… let me replace you in Prufen. But you know… for that to happen, you'll have to vanish first."
He turned slowly.
"Shall I announce… your death?"