ELYSION 5:00 PM
The evening sky was no longer merely shifting from dark to light—it was being reborn. The golden-orange light radiating wasn't just from the setting sun, but from every particle of air, as if grateful to be freed from the clutches of darkness. The universe itself seemed to take a deep, relieved breath, and in the warm breeze, one could feel a vibration of solace that touched the soul.
On the newly healed canvas of the sky, two silhouettes were perfectly outlined. Danteus and Hector—like a living painting hung between heaven and earth by an invisible hand. For a moment, before they fully returned to their human forms, their demonic visages were unveiled in one last magnificent display. Their skin was adorned with hellish runes that glittered like stellar embers, their eyes blazed with an ancient fire that had burned for millennia, and wings glowing with the void's fire and darkness stretched wide before slowly receding, like shadows allowing the light to shine through.
"A promise is a promise, brody," said Hector, his voice still resonating with the echo of cosmic power, each word seeming to contain the chime of distant stars.
Danteus nodded slowly, his usually cool eyes now radiating a profound warmth. Their fists met in a handshake that was more than just a gesture—it was a symbol of unity that vibrated the very air around them. As their skin touched, a soft purple light emanated, enveloping them in a slowly swirling energy shroud. Gradually, their demonic forms began to melt away like wax under the warmth of the evening sun. The hellish runes faded one by one, the magnificent fiery gleam in their eyes dimmed, and their protective wings shrank into golden dust scattered by the wind. All that remained were two heroes from a fairytale made real—men with handsome faces illuminated by the beautiful, calming evening sun, with small smiles hinting at the long-sought peace they had finally achieved.
Below them, all of Elysion held its breath in this seemingly eternal moment.
The witches still hovering in the air with their flowing robes simultaneously lowered their staffs in the highest gesture of respect. The usually colorful magical lights now unified into a golden hue, forming a canopy of light above everyone's heads. The people of Elysion—from the eldest with snow-white hair to children still clutching their toys—stood with tear-filled eyes. No one dared make a sound, as overwhelming awe had stolen their voices.
From the tower roof, Ken observed with an uncharacteristic gaze. Usually cold and detached, his eyes now emitted something akin to tenderness. He gave a slow nod, a simple gesture yet deeply meaningful—for those who knew him, it was equivalent to the most emotional standing ovation.
The Guardian of Light began its final, heartbreakingly beautiful metamorphosis. Its giant legs gradually vanished, not disappearing outright, but transforming into golden particles that rose to the sky like a swarm of giant fireflies. Each particle moved elegantly, touching the clouds still wounded from the earlier battle—healing the black gashes and gaping holes until they were restored to their proper state. This healing process was like a watercolor painting slowly covering a damaged canvas, each stroke of golden light a brush guided by the hand of nature itself.
Danteus and Hector descended at a deliberately slowed pace—like maple seeds carried by the autumn wind, spinning gracefully before finally landing on the ground. With every inch they drew closer to the earth, cheers swelled like an unstoppable oceanic wave. It began with awed whispers spreading like a chain reaction, grew into joy-filled shouts that shattered the silence, and finally became a victory song uniting all of Elysion in a single melody of happiness.
Even the elements of the world joined their symphony of joy. The once-terrifying thunder now rumbled with a cheerful rhythm, like drums in a giant orchestra played by nature's spirits. The clouds produced soft rumbles, creating a natural bass that vibrated in every listener's soul. The mist danced among the trees, whispering tales of courage that had defied fate. The wind blew with a special melody, carrying the scent of flowers that had suddenly bloomed amid the rubble—as if nature was saying that life would always find a way to endure.
The very earth vibrated in an ancient rhythm understood only by the oldest tree roots. Stones clicked like natural metronomes, keeping time with the joyful heartbeat of the planet. From the forest of Elicia, moonblossoms bloomed simultaneously, emitting a soft light that pulsed in rhythm with the descending heroes' breath—like tiny lamps lighting their path home.
When Danteus and Hector's feet finally touched the ground, the world seemed to pause for a moment. There was a brief yet meaningful silence—like the pause in a symphony before its most breathtaking climax. Then everything erupted in controlled jubilation.
The citizens rushed to embrace them, yet strangely, there was no pushing or noise. It all happened in a respectful slow motion. A child with sparkling eyes touched Hector's cloak in awe, as if touching a living legend. An elderly woman kissed Danteus's hand with streaming tears, whispering thanks in an almost-forgotten ancient tongue.
The sky shimmered with orange-pink hues, like an impressionist painting concluding the most epic chapter in Elysion's history. This victory didn't belong just to humans or witches—it belonged to every element of nature that had ever felt the threat of darkness, every soul that had hoped in silence, and every heart that kept beating despite fear.
Embraced by the people of Elysion, Danteus and Hector exchanged a look. No words were needed. Their small smiles said everything. They had returned home—not just to Elysion, but to the humanity they had once lost. Even amidst the embrace of the entire city of Elysion, Danteus's eyes never stopped searching. Through the sea of faces—faces alight with joy, among echoing hugs and applause, his heart kept pounding, seeking that light—the other half of his soul. Like a compass ceaselessly pointing north, like a river that cannot be dammed from flowing to the sea.
Until then, from beyond the crowd, from within the cracks of jostling jubilation, she appeared. Liora, her wolfcut hair still slightly tousled by the winds of fear, with eyes that shone brighter than all the stars in Elysion's sky.
She approached with measured steps, slicing through the crowd like a sword through mist. Her hands, usually wrapped around her staff, were open now, and without a word, she pulled Danteus into a hug that spoke louder than a thousand poems.
"You were looking for me?" whispered Liora, her voice so gentle, like morning dew.
Danteus, who had just faced the darkness of Tartarus without flinching, suddenly felt his knees go weak. He took a deep breath, trying to hide the frantic beating of his heart.
"No," he protested, trying to sound casual even though his face was red to the tips of his ears.
"I'm just hungry, wanted to find something to eat."
Liora smirked, her mischievous eyes glinting,
"Hungry, huh?
"After defeating a giant beast from hell and saving the entire city, all you can think about is food?"
"Hey... even like this, I'm still a living creature," Danteus defended, struggling to keep his expression flat though the corners of his mouth could no longer be restrained.
But that little trick wasn't strong enough to fool the tomboy before him—her hand shot out, grabbing the collar of Danteus's robe and pulling him close.
"Lying has never been your strong suit,
Pretty boy."
Without further ado, Liora took Danteus's wrist. Golden light flowed from her fingers, cleansing the remnants of dark energy still clinging to him. It made Danteus let out a sigh—not from pain, but from her touch.
"Lior—"
"Quiet," she cut him off. " You're always like this.
Winning the big battles, but coming home with little injuries that could become problems later."
Goodness...
Why are his hands always so beautiful...
Calm down,Liora.
Just focus on the wound.
AHH BUT I CAN'T!!!
Her inner turmoil, so violently intense, unconsciously made her usually steady fingers tremble slightly.
Amidst this surge of feeling she couldn't yet comprehend, she knew. She was falling with that touch.
A feeling that suddenly made her defenses crumble,shattering every barrier. Yet, one thing she had always known—she could never refuse it.
"You... Are you alright?" Danteus finally asked, shattering all the beautiful imaginings swirling in the woman's mind.
"I—I'M FINE, REALLY..."
Ken, who had been playing his violin all this while, could only sigh in exasperation.
"I didn't expect this to take longer than I thought..."
He muttered,before resuming his playing—this time with a much livelier tune.
Around them, the crowd began to understand and slowly gave them space. Some smiled knowingly; others turned away to offer them privacy—though truthfully, everyone was still stealing glances from the corners of their eyes.
.....
Along the hidden pathways of Elysia, where ancient roots twist like the earth's own veins and golden spores dance in the air like joyful nature spirits.
There...two figures shot forward like arrows piercing the canopy of the sky.
She was the one pulling him—Liora. A streak of light and laughter set free. Her wolfcut hair, with its uneven layers like the wounded wings of a butterfly, whipped against her flushed cheeks. Every strand caught the glancing strokes of sunlight, transforming into fleeting sheets of gold. Her hand—small, yet its grip was a tangible force. The soft skin of her palm—clamped tightly around Danteus's wrist—so tight it could calm the demon in her grasp.
And she...she wasn't running to escape, but to conquer the meaning of sorrow, pulling the world along with her in the rush of her breath.
And Danteus...
He was swept away. He drifted between a dream and a reality he could no longer distinguish.
The world around him, which he usually observed with the vigilance of a guardian who had seen thousands of battles, who was himself the destroyer of worlds, a merciless slaughterer, now melted into an impressionist painting. The greens and golds blurred at the edges of his vision. The only thing sharp. The only thing real, was the hand of the woman that burned against his skin, and her slender back, clad in a simple tunic with a shoulder cape as its only adornment, moving through the air that became their melody.
Speed like this once belonged to him—
A dark terror cleaving the wind,
leaving trails of decay.His feet once shattered the earth, not danced upon its beauty.
But now...
He ran not as a demon hunting prey,but like a man with lungs aflame, a heart pounding wildly, and with a humanity that felt fragile. Trembling. Truly intoxicating.
Her grip was like an anchor point in a forgotten ocean depth.
And from that point,warmth radiated, sweeping away the remnants of darkness nested in his bones.
He noticed the way her short locks danced,and the small shadow at the nape of her exposed neck.
In the collision of feelings that swept him away.
He wanted to touch her, not with lust,
but with an almost religious sense of solace.
The light he had sought across all creation,
it turned out,resided within this tomboyish woman
who could still laugh without burden even as she dragged a demon along in her grasp.
...
The wind roared in his ears, and her hair danced with the wind that carried them forward.
At the tips of her fingers,where she gripped his slender wrist, she could feel the pulse of his immense power—a beautiful rhythm buried beneath skin mapped with scars. She knew the history etched there, each line a page from a book of sorrow and redemption.
But today. She did not want to remind him of that book. Rather, she wanted to write a new page there, with ink made from the laughter and happiness they shared. She pulled him harder, forcing them both into a sudden burst of sunlight piercing through the leaves.
Watching how the light embraced his gentle face,soothing the chaos in his eyes.
And between her blinking lashes... She did not see the formidable guardian or the judged former demon. Instead, she saw a Danteus who was breathlessly keeping up, with a hint of a curve at the corners of his lips.
"Danteus... You are so beautiful...
As always... when I see you..."
....
"Ahh... this feeling..."
Within your grasp—
My feet, which once crushed cities,
Now leave only light imprints on the damp grass
You pull everything...and the old world—the gloomy one.
The old world, full of ashes,
is left behind on every trembling leaf.
I am a former storm learning
to become a gentle breeze through the gaps of your fingers
Your hair is short, wild, the true meaning of rebellion.
Each strand catches the light, transforming into tiny swords that pierce my shadows
You run, and I follow you—
not as a guardian, not as a redeemed devil.
Only as a breathless Danteus,
who finds his light not in the highest sky,
but in the palm of your hand...
And I always thought... We are two melodies gone astray.
Blood of darkness, and blood of light
A low humming note,
and the soothing chime of a bell,
a chaotic yet beautiful symphony—
Feet tapping the earth to an inexplicable tune
But now...who cares about any of that?
In a small pond, where time drips slowly,
You turn.Your breath warm in the cool air.
In your eyes, brighter than the morning sun...
I see my reflection—not as a demon, not a monster—
Just a man, slightly lost.
Found by a tomboyish woman with a wolfcut...
Don't let go of this grip.
Let these different bloodstreams
become one raging river.
Eroding the cliffs of the past.
And now...we run toward—
...Honestly... I don't care where we go.
As long as your hand remains in mine.