Chapter 79
It ends (10)
The dome loomed ahead like a wounded beast—silent, broken, and seething with unseen menace.
IAM advanced slowly, every sense on edge.
his body tense despite the apparent absence of danger. The area looked deserted, not a single sound to betray an enemy presence, but that only made him more cautious. His instincts were screaming.
And worst of all…
He didn't even know what the enemy looked like.
How could he?
He had been trapped beneath that mountain of rubble for so long—out cold while the battle had raged, shifted, and ended. And now that he was finally back on his feet… he was late to the party.
Far too late.
Everything was already over.
No screams. No footsteps. No shadows. Just the oppressive weight of aftermath. An empty quiet that screamed louder than any war cry.
Just devastation.
He ducked low, weaving through shattered pillars and twisted steel beams. His breath was shallow. His eyes scanned every corner.
And then—
He saw it.
A body.
Just a few meters away.
IAM crept closer, heart drumming louder with each step. The figure was cloaked, facedown. Unmoving.
Kneeling beside it, he reached out.
He hesitated.
And then he grabbed the edge of the hood, pulling it back.
But before he could even glimpse the face—the body dissolved.
A gust of gold exploded into the air, scattering like ashes.
IAM recoiled instinctively.
The cloak, the posture… It wasn't one of theirs. Not a uniform from the Hold. No insignia. No armor.
This was one of them.
An enemy.
And yet… there was no blood. No wound. Just that golden dust—rising, floating, being drawn in a singular direction.
It scattered into the air and flowed toward the dome like pollen caught in a gentle breeze.
He followed it with his eyes.
The dome.
That gut feeling twisted tighter.
He swallowed hard, jaw clenched.
Whatever had happened here… it wasn't over.
He finally reached the edge of the broken structure and crouched behind a massive slab of concrete, taking cover. Slowly, he peeked around it.
And his breath caught in his throat.
There it was.
At the heart of the dome stood a colossal orb—suspended midair, glowing gold. Rings spun lazily around it, inscribed with symbols he didn't understand, and etched with a cold, inhuman precision.
It was like a planet trapped in orbit.
Mystical.
Alien.
It pulsed slowly—once every few seconds, like a heartbeat.
It was unlike anything he'd ever seen—magical, but not entirely. There was something mechanical about it. The hum it emitted was both mystical and industrial, ancient and futuristic at once.
It glowed brighter every time gold dust was absorbed into it.
The dust.
Life force.
Now that he was this close, IAM could feel it—those particles weren't just dust. They weren't ash. They were the life force of the dying people. Life essence harvested and refined, feeding into this orb.
It wasn't natural.
IAM stared, dumbfounded.
A mech? A weapon?
It was technological. But it felt… wrong. As though it had been born from something that didn't care for morality or meaning.
What the hell is this thing?
Why would they collect life force?
What were they planning?
His instincts screamed that this orb was more important than anything else they had fought for. This wasn't just a weapon. It was the centerpiece.
The heart of it all.
And there was no way the enemy would leave it unguarded.
He turned to retreat—
And nearly collided with something.
A face.
Right in front of him.
A girl. Short. Close. Too close. Her hood was up, shadowing most of her features, but her nose was nearly pressed against his chest.
His eyes went wide.
How hadn't he noticed her?
How had she gotten so near?
How had he not seen her?
Panic surged through him, but he tried to play it off.
"Uhhh…" he started, stiffly. "Sorry for bumping into you… I'll just, uh… be on my way."
He began to back away, trying to keep his voice casual.
She tilted her head slightly.
"Oh. Okay."
Wait—what?
Was she buying it?
IAM stared at her, blinking.
Was she… actually that dumb?
Could he—
But of course, the universe didn't grant favors.
Not today.
"There's one here that's still alive!!"
She screamed at the top of her lungs.
IAM's body tensed—too late.
A sudden impact—a foot slammed into his face with brutal force, and he was sent flying, his body skidding across broken rubble and bloodstained concrete.
Pain exploded.
His skull rang like a bell.
He coughed violently, blood spurting from his mouth.
His vision blurred red.
That kick…
It wasn't just strong—it was practiced. Refined.
That was someone at the Experienced level, at least.
He barely managed to lift his head before he realized—
He was surrounded.
Two figures from behind rushed in, grabbing his arms and yanking them backward. Another slammed his face down into the dirt with a meaty thud.
His nose cracked.
Blood poured into his mouth.
He groaned, spitting out dirt and blood.
Another figure approached, chuckling.
"How did a little squirt like him survive till now?" he sneered. "And to actually have the balls to approach the Divine Orb?"
IAM struggled. Growled.
But it was useless.
He couldn't move. He was pinned completely.
The man raised his sword high above his head, the blade gleaming under the orb's light.
The sword over IAM's neck, like an executioner.
IAM's heart thudded in terror.
He struggled, panic clawing at him.
But he couldn't move.
He was pinned. Weak. Helpless.
IAM felt his pulse spike. His heart raced. Desperation clawed at his throat.
The blade descended—
"Stop."
The voice was deep, authoritative.
The sword froze mid-air.
The man obeyed instantly, lowering the blade and stepping aside without question.
IAM struggled to lift his head, blood dripping from his chin.
And that's when he saw them.
More figures.
A massive crowd of hooded figures, all gathered around him like wolves circling an injured prey. Cloaks of varying lengths, All faceless.
No escape.
None.
Silent. Watching.
A noose of shadows.
And one man stepped forward. Calm, slow, with a deliberate rhythm to his steps.
He wasn't bigger or more physically imposing than the rest, but something about him radiated control.
The only sign of status was a thin golden stripe that ran down the left side of his cloak.
His hood was still up.
IAM glared up at him, defiant even now.
"Who the fuck are you?! Who are all of you?!"
The man tilted his head slightly.
"Is that something a dead man needs to know?"
IAM spat blood.
"Fucking cowards! Ambushing us for what? This stupid golden ball of yours? This stupid fucking cult?!"
One of the figures holding IAM moved—twisting his right arm with a sickening snap.
CRACK.
His body convulsed. The pain was blinding.
The snap echoed.
IAM howled in agony. His body buckled. His screams tore into the night.
He thrashed. Cursed. Cried.
And then went still.
Grimacing.
Breathing hard.
He bit down on his lip to stop the cries, tasting iron.
The man with the gold stripe waited.
Watched.
And only when IAM's cries faded into low, trembling gasps… did he speak.
"First of all," he began coolly, "do not defile the name of the Divine Orb.
Second, our actions—regardless of their appearance—do not make us cowards.
They make us… better.
And third, do not reduce our beautiful purpose to something as distasteful as a cult.
Understand, child?""
IAM didn't respond.
Didn't flinch.
His teeth were clenched. His jaw trembled from the pain, but his heart remained filled with fury.
Instead, he asked the one question he already knew the answer to:
"Everyone… did you murder everyone? Where are they?"
The golden-striped man paused.
There was a flicker of amusement behind the silence.
"You know the answer."
IAM went limp.
As if the words themselves shattered something inside him. Reality delivering a blow, an intense wave of sadness floods him as wave after tears streamed down his face.
The silence behind the enemy's words—was confirmation.
His mind raced through names.
Kepa.
Althea.
Raj.
Regina.
All of them.
Gone.
He hadn't even seen how they'd died.
Hadn't been there to witness their final stand. Their last words. Their sacrifice.
He was too late.
Tears came hot and fast, carving down his bloodied cheeks as he stared into the dirt.
"How could they let this happen…?" he whispered hoarsely.
He remembered.
The four groups that had rescued him. The elite fighters. The masters that had slain the devil.
How could they lose? His mind reached, desperate for something, someone. And there was one name left clinging in the darkness.
"What about Hise Grave?!" he shouted suddenly, his voice cracking. "He was strong! How?! What happened to him?!"
A silence fell over the cloaked figures. Heavy. Suffocating.
It lasted a second too long.
And then—
the man with the golden stripe gave a soft, almost pitying chuckle.
He didn't flinch.
His response was calm. Cold.
"Do not expect him to save you."
IAM's blood ran cold.
IAM's mouth went dry.
He shook his head slowly.
No. That wasn't right.
That wasn't right—
But then—
The man raised a hand.
And with a casual motion, he pulled back his hood.
IAM froze.
A choked gasp escaped him.
His body went still.
His eyes locked on the face now revealed to him.
Time slowed.
Because the man standing before him—the one wrapped in shadows, standing among enemies, giving the orders, watching with lifeless eyes—
Was Hise Grave.
IAM's world collapsed in on itself.
"Because I am right here. "