The hall was gone.
What remained was a crater of ruin, stone and fire breathing in rhythm with the Titan's every step. Each movement was an earthquake. Each roar was a ledger-mark written into their bones.
And yet, for the first time, the monster staggered.
Hae-won's strike had carved across its ribs, the cursed sword howling with blood-fire, script unraveling as though torn from the Titan's chest itself. The creature reeled, its chant stuttering.
"… unpaid… unpaid… un—"
The cadets, scattered across the wreckage, froze in disbelief. Seok's hand, raised mid-command, trembled. Even Seo's laughter faltered into stunned silence. Arin's breath caught in her throat, eyes wide as they locked onto Hae-won's silhouette.
For the briefest heartbeat, the impossible seemed real.
They could win.
Hae-won stood in the smoking debris, chest heaving, blood dripping from his split lips onto the stone. His hands shook around the cursed sword, its red glow eating into his skin, burning deeper with every pulse. His knees threatened to buckle—but he didn't fall.
He couldn't.
"Get back," he rasped, voice raw. "All of you. Stay back."
No one moved. No one even breathed.
The Titan steadied itself. Its massive frame straightened, ledger-scars glowing brighter than fire, each syllable of script burning against its skin like brands. The ribs along its chest yawned wider, the fragment of Do-hyun's face shuddering inside, lips twitching soundlessly.
The lullaby faltered.
And the Titan roared.
The sound tore through the air like an ocean splitting apart. Cadets screamed as the sheer pressure threw them backward, ears ringing, vision blurring from the force alone. Shattered glass rained down like needles.
The Titan's arms extended outward, palms opening as script unfurled across its flesh. The runes twisted, condensed, and then—
They formed a weapon.
A blade.
Forged not from steel, but from luminous script, screaming lines of red and black, every stroke a tally of failure. The sword radiated wrongness. It pulsed with voices, shrill and endless, the sound of debtors begging, chains rattling, promises broken.
Arin's hands clamped over her ears, tears springing to her eyes. "Make it stop—make it stop!"
Seok gritted his teeth, trying to pull cadets into some semblance of retreat, but the weight of the Titan's new weapon pinned them like insects beneath glass. The very air grew heavy, suffused with the gravity of a thousand unpaid debts.
The Titan lifted the blade.
And the hall collapsed into silence.
Hae-won swallowed the iron in his throat. His cursed sword pulsed in answer, its whispers sharpening to a shriek.
Take it. Tear it. Feed me his debt and I will turn it into yours.
He staggered forward instead, every muscle screaming, lungs burning as though he'd inhaled fire. Dust and ash coated his tongue.
The Titan swung first.
The debt-sword cut through the air like the world itself was being divided. The shockwave split walls, carved trenches into the stone floor, hurled cadets into pillars like broken dolls.
Hae-won raised his blade to meet it.
The collision was not sound—it was annihilation.
A thunderclap cracked through the ruins, sending stone and steel spiraling into the air. The cursed sword screeched in his grip, sparks vomiting in every direction. Hae-won's knees buckled, arms screaming as the weight of the Titan's strike pressed down on him.
He slid backward, boots carving lines through the stone until his back slammed against broken marble. Blood sprayed from his mouth, flecking his chin.
The cadets screamed his name—but none could reach him. None could step into the storm.
The Titan pressed forward, its blade sinking lower, closer, as if it would crush him into dust.
Hae-won roared, dragging every ounce of strength from his trembling body. The cursed sword blazed, its crimson glow spiking as it fed on his blood. His vision blurred, his ears rang, but still he pushed.
For a moment, the blades held each other in perfect opposition—debt against defiance.
Then the Titan shoved harder.
Hae-won's left shoulder gave way with a pop. His muscles tore. His arms quaked violently. The cursed sword laughed in his skull, drunk on the blood it drank from his torn palms.
You will break. Unless you offer me one. One coin. One life. And I will turn this ledger.
"Shut… up!" he snarled through clenched teeth.
The Titan twisted its blade, hurling him aside. Hae-won's body slammed into stone, ribs cracking like dry branches. He coughed blood, rolled to his knees, and forced himself upright again.
The cadets tried to move forward—Arin stumbling toward him, Seok shouting something—but the Titan's aura crushed them flat against the wreckage.
This was no battlefield. This was a duel.
Hae-won spat blood onto the stone. His hands trembled around the hilt of his sword, the cursed blade still hungry, still pulsing like a living heart.
The Titan loomed over him, debt-sword raised, its ledger-voice shaking the hall.
"ALL… UNPAID…"
The blade fell.
Hae-won lifted his own to meet it again. Sparks shrieked, shards of steel biting into his flesh. His bones howled under the strain.
But his feet didn't move.
For a moment, it looked as if he might even push it back. The cadets' eyes widened in disbelief, hope igniting again.
Then the Titan's other hand slammed forward.
The debt-sword pierced straight through him.
For a heartbeat, the world stopped.
Hae-won stared down in numb silence. The blade jutted from his chest, a spear of script and screaming voices, glowing so bright it carved shadows into the ruins.
He tried to breathe, but the air wouldn't come. His throat filled with blood, metallic and thick, choking him as it spilled down his chin. His vision swam red.
Arin's scream tore through the hall, raw and breaking.
Seok's voice cracked, bellowing his name.
Seo laughed again—this time not mocking, but hysterical, desperate.
Hae-won's knees buckled. His sword clattered against the ground, its whispers fading into static.
The Titan leaned closer, its ledger-voice crawling through his skull.
"Debt… collected."
Hae-won's lips parted, blood bubbling with each word. His body convulsed, struggling to keep upright even as the debt-sword held him aloft.
He turned his head. His gaze found Arin through the dust, her trembling form pinned under rubble, her hands outstretched toward him as if she could bridge the impossible distance.
His voice was a whisper. Broken.
"I'm… sorry."
Her sob split the silence.
He coughed blood again, vision narrowing to a tunnel. The cadets blurred. The hall warped. The Titan's face bent into nothing but script and shadow.
But deep inside its chest, through the yawning ribs and burning ledger, he saw Do-hyun's fragment flicker. The lullaby still hummed.
Still alive.
Not saved. Not yet.
Hae-won's lips curled into something faint, almost a smile, even as his life spilled onto the stone.
"…Not this time."
The world shuddered.
Script burned across his vision, not in the Titan's voice, but in something older, deeper, carved into his very bones.
[ Regression Authorized. ]
[ Restarting Account. ]
The debt-sword dissolved into static. The Titan's roar cut into silence. The hall collapsed into a smear of white.
Hae-won let his eyes close, the taste of blood still metallic on his tongue, his apology still on his lips.
And as the light swallowed him whole—
—he chose.