The battlefield was drowning in despair.
Rayyan's body trembled as he forced himself upright, his grip on the Emperor Blade slipping with blood. His breaths came ragged, each inhale searing his lungs like fire. His dark purple aura flickered, unstable, the once-devastating power that could cut down beasts now dimming like a dying flame.
Beside him, Ryuu collapsed to one knee. His body was scorched, smoke rising from wounds where chains had bitten deep into flesh. Blood poured down his arms, dripping from his fingertips and staining the shattered stone beneath him. Yet even as agony consumed his every nerve, his eyes blazed with stubborn madness.
The Warlord with the kusarigama stood untouched. Not a single drop of blood stained his flawless figure. His crimson aura twisted like a storm of despair, his chains rattling in anticipation. Each movement, each breath from him weighed heavier than the sky itself.
Rayyan and Ryuu had given everything. And still—they were nothing before him.
The Warlord's voice cut through the suffocating silence. Calm. Absolute. Unshakable.
> "Fall, little hunters. Your blood will baptize this broken world."
His kusarigama spun once more, arcs of crimson light stretching across the air, its chain lengthening impossibly as it struck down toward the helpless pair.
Time slowed.
Rayyan's instincts screamed. His body refused to move.
Ryuu clenched his fists, but his mana had already been consumed.
This was the end.
—
Bang!
A single gunshot tore through the battlefield.
The kusarigama's trajectory bent midair, sparks exploding as a bullet slammed into its chain, forcing it to recoil. The Warlord's crimson eyes flickered briefly—not in fear, but in acknowledgment.
Rayyan's pupils dilated. Ryuu gasped.
From the shadows of the broken plaza, four figures stepped forward.
Shiori, her firearm still smoking, lowered her stance. The wind howled around her, lifting her short hair and rattling the debris at her feet. She reloaded with mechanical precision, her voice sharp as steel.
> "You two idiots better not die before I finish my job."
Beside her, Yukihana walked with a grace that chilled the air. Frost spread in her wake, and delicate sakura petals of glowing pink whirled alongside shards of ice. In her hands shimmered her dual swords—one glowing with soft, blue frost, the other alive with a pink aura like blooming spring. Her violet eyes blazed with determination, no hesitation in her stride.
> "Rayyan. Ryuu. Rest for now. This battle… isn't over."
Vice Chairwoman Elira emerged next, her katana gleaming scarlet beneath the red moon. She carried herself with elegance sharpened by years of discipline, her eyes locked on the Warlord with unwavering defiance. The air around her thickened with a bloodlust so sharp it cut the silence itself.
And finally—
Dr. Ivar.
He stepped into the light, his plain attire torn, his frame older than the rest, but his aura radiated something deeper, heavier. His movements were calm, yet each step thundered with the weight of experience. His sharp eyes, lined with age and regret, burned with a fire that refused to die.
The Hunters present—all of them battered, broken, or in despair—felt it instantly.
Hope.
Not false hope, but the kind that only appears when a man who has lived through hell itself refuses to bow.
The Warlord tilted his head, chains rattling lazily in the night wind. His crimson gaze fell on the doctor.
> "So… you step forward, old man."
Dr. Ivar exhaled slowly, then raised his hands—not to wield a weapon, but to tighten his fists. His aura surged outward like a roaring tide. The very ground beneath his feet cracked, stone exploding outward as invisible pressure spread.
He was unarmed.
But he didn't need a weapon.
Rayyan's eyes widened. "...His martial aura…"
Ryuu coughed blood, stunned. "The old man… he's serious."
With a single strike of his palm, Dr. Ivar slammed his hand against the ground.
The battlefield erupted in light.
A barrier of pure martial aura rose from the earth, encasing the doctor and the Warlord in a shimmering dome. Its walls were thick with energy, pulsating like a living heart. The Hunters outside pressed forward—but could not enter.
Shiori's eyes narrowed. "What is he…?"
Elira gritted her teeth, her knuckles tightening on her katana. "He's sealing them inside… only the two of them can fight."
Yukihana's breath caught in her throat, petals freezing midair. "Sensei…"
Inside the barrier—silence.
The Warlord twirled his kusarigama slowly, amused. "A cage. Do you think this will protect your allies from despair?"
Dr. Ivar straightened his back, his aura swirling tighter, sharper. For the first time in decades, his posture was youthful—like a warrior reborn.
> "This isn't a cage." His voice rang steady. "It's a ring. And only one of us leaves."
The Warlord chuckled darkly. "Interesting. Show me then, human. Show me your fleeting defiance."
And the battle began.
—
Chains lashed forward, faster than thought.
Dr. Ivar moved.
He didn't dodge like a nimble youth. Instead, his palms struck the chains directly. Aura exploded from his hands, martial energy vibrating through his body as he redirected the Warlord's attack. Sparks rained across the barrier as the kusarigama's sickle carved against invisible force.
Step. Strike. Palm. Elbow. Fist.
Every movement was refined, practiced thousands of times, his martial arts pure, devoid of waste. His body was slower than his opponent's, yet every strike carried meaning.
Rayyan's fists trembled as he watched. "So… this is Dr. Ivar's true power."
Ryuu's eyes widened in disbelief. "He's fighting that monster… bare-handed!?"
But inside the barrier, Dr. Ivar's body screamed with pain. Every strike rattled his old bones. Every movement tore at his aging muscles. Yet his eyes shone brighter than ever.
> Captain Arvon… I still remember your words. Strength is not given for yourself, but to protect what others cannot.
—
The Warlord's strikes grew heavier, his kusarigama spinning faster. Chains ripped the ground apart, slashing through stone and tearing scars into the battlefield.
Dr. Ivar countered every strike with fists glowing in aura, his martial arts flowing like water, crashing like thunder.
Yet with every exchange, his body weakened. Blood stained his lips. His knees buckled.
The Warlord's gaze sharpened. "Your resolve is strong. Your fists are honest. But…"
The kusarigama whirled, crashing into Ivar's ribs, flinging him into the barrier wall. Blood splattered across the glowing dome.
The Warlord approached, dragging his chain behind him like the toll of death.
> "You cannot win, old man. Your life burns low. Join us. Lend your strength to the new world."
Dr. Ivar coughed blood, forcing himself to his knees. His vision blurred. Yet he still glared upward, defiant.
The Warlord's voice grew smoother, almost coaxing.
> "You have the heart of a protector. You hate this frozen hell of a world. With us, you will end the cries of the weak. No more death. No more tears. Become the maker of paradise."
The doctor's fists shook. His chest heaved. His mind was no longer in the present battlefield—
—but years ago.
—
He saw again the cold hospital halls.
The stench of blood.
The broken parents screaming.
That night. That mistake.
He had been drunk. A foolish, broken man in a white coat. And because of his failure—because of his weakness—a child had died on his table.
The only son of two desperate parents. Parents who took their own lives the very next day.
Dr. Ivar had carried that weight for decades. He had drowned himself in liquor, drowned himself in guilt. He had nearly leapt into the river, ready to end it all.
But a voice had stopped him.
A voice that whispered:
"If you truly wish to die, then die for others.
If you have given up your life, then give it to protect happiness.
Turn despair into strength."
And so, he had lived.
Not for himself.
But for those who could still smile.
His eyes cleared, glowing with new fire.
—
The Warlord extended a hand. "Join us. Be reborn as the new world's savior."
Dr. Ivar clenched his fists, pushing himself upright despite the blood pouring from his mouth.
He smiled faintly, bitter yet proud.
> "Captain Arvon… I did what you taught me. I have no regrets."