(Chapter 13)
Meanwhile, in the shattered alley where Dieval had fallen, Azre and Enix leaned against broken stone, too drained to rise. The air reeked of burnt shadows.
"Azre! Enix!"
Two figures rushed into view. Rowan's stern eyes widened as he dropped to his knees beside Enix, immediately uncorking a vial of shimmering medicine. He carefully lifted Enix's head and pressed the liquid to his lips.
"Drink. Slowly."
Enix coughed, grimacing at the bitter taste, but swallowed nonetheless.
Thalia knelt by Azre, fumbling for her satchel. She pulled out a glass potion, but her hands trembled as she pressed it into Azre's palm.
"I… I'm sorry," Thalia muttered, her voice breaking. "I couldn't cast a single healing prayer. What kind of holy knight am I, if I can't even ease your pain?"
Azre, pale and weary, still managed a soft smile. She reached out, laying a gentle hand on Thalia's arm.
"Don't be too hard on yourself, Thalia. Everyone carries weakness, just as they carry strength. No one becomes powerful alone—that's why we have comrades. To fill the gaps… to accept what's missing."
Thalia's eyes welled, but she nodded, clutching Azre's hand as if anchoring herself.
Rowan, still supporting Enix, looked toward the horizon. His eyes narrowed. "That battle…"
A thunderous boom shook the ground, followed by an echo of steel clashing with threads of crimson light.
Before they could move, however—the shadows stirred again.
From the very ground where Dieval had died, his lingering curse split open like a festering wound. Black ichor oozed upward, shaping into phantoms larger and more grotesque than the ones they'd faced before.
Rowan cursed under his breath, drawing his blade. "Damn it. One leader of the Trinitie's death didn't purge its curse—it freed it!"
The phantoms shrieked, their voices like nails on glass, lurching toward the nearby streets. Panic already stirred as civilians screamed in the distance.
Azre forced herself upright despite her weakness, clutching her staff. "No… we can't let them reach the city! Innocent lives—"
Thalia gritted her teeth, drawing her sword and stepping forward beside Rowan. "Then we hold the line. For the people."
Rowan gave a sharp nod. "Azre, conserve your mana. Enix, stay back until your strength returns."
The shadows lunged, and the Purge Knights, battered yet unbroken, readied themselves to stand against the tide once more.
---
On one side of the city:
Brooke, Bruce, and Bob clashing with Gigaleon, the Soul-Thread Psycho as it's deadly silk weaving a dance of death.
The Purge Knights, bruised and bloodied, holding the line against the remnant shadows born of Dieval's curse, fighting to prevent chaos from consuming Seiran's streets.
Both battles raged beneath the same fractured moonlight—two fronts in the same war, each inching closer to a fate that bound them all.
The moonlight was fractured by smoke and ash as Brooke squared off against Gigaleon. The Soul-Thread Psycho grinned with that infuriating smile, rolling his shoulders like a man limbering up before a game. His hands shimmered faintly with soul-threads, fine as spider silk, glowing crimson at their ends.
"You've got guts, showing up here alone," Brooke taunted, resting a hand on her blade. "But guts are messy when spilled on cobblestones. Want to test that theory?"
Gigaleon chuckled. "I like you already. Let's see if your wit holds up when your heartstrings are mine to pluck."
With a snap of his fingers, threads lashed outward, slicing through the air like razors. Brooke twisted aside, sparks bursting as her blade parried one, another nicking her sleeve. Behind her, Bruce and Bob stumbled back, eyes wide, but ready with steel in hand.
And then Bob made a bold decision—he became a decoy for something bigger. Suddenly noticing Bruce missing behind him, instinct took over. He leapt in front of Gigaleon's threads, swinging his giant axe into their paths. Too many struck at once, overwhelming him, and he tried to back down just enough to stay in the fight. Meanwhile, Brooke noticed what Bob was doing—drawing the enemy's attention—and sensed he had a plan. She fired a barrage of bullets at Gigaleon's face, but the threads sliced them like sheets of paper.
Gigaleon opened his mouth to mock them, but paused. Something was off… there had been three of them a moment ago, and now—something unexpected was coming.
"Now, Bruce!" Bob shouted.
In an instant, Bruce revealed his concealment. A huge wooden barrel slowly tipped above Gigaleon's confused face. Reflexively, the threads whipped and slashed, slicing the barrel into pieces—but the sticky remnants of the barrel's contents showered Gigaleon, coating him in a slimy, clinging mess as the threads twitched wildly, their motions more erratic than ever.
After Bruce managed to catch Gigaleon by surprise, a flashback flooded Bob's mind—back in Raventale, just a while ago.
"Hey Bruce, captain's calling. We've got a job to do," Bob had said.
"Aye!" Bruce replied, hoisting a massive wooden barrel onto his shoulder.
"Oi… what in a bloody sea do you think you're doing, Bruce? We're not here for a drunk fest… we're going into battle," Bob clarified.
"Aye… I know, Bob," Bruce smirked. "It's my trump card. You'll see later."
Now, in the present, the memory merged with action. Slowly, the barrel fell right above Gigaleon's face. His entire body became coated in the sticky mess.
Then Gigaleon sniffed, confused, sensing something odd.
Bob caught it too. The smell of alcohol hit him, and an idea sparked in his mind.
"Captain! need a bullet—for smoke!" Bob shouted.
Brooke, initially confused, caught on as soon as the scent of alcohol reached her. She understood Bob's signal: it was a distraction, a cue for her to act.
Gigaleon, not only drenched in the sticky residue but now burning with anger and wrath, struggled to free himself from the cocoon Bruce had improvised. Threads lashed out, twisting like serpents, but Brooke was ready.
"Hey, Captain!" Bob yelled again, urging Brooke into action.
Brooke's eyes narrowed. Instantly understanding, she gritted her teeth and fired a shot at the cobblestones near Gigaleon. The bullet struck sparks against the rough stone, and the alcohol-soaked sticky liquid instantly ignited. Flames erupted, roaring to life and engulfing Gigaleon in a blazing inferno.
The alley trembled under the heat. Gigaleon's threads lashed wildly, slicing through fire and air, but even he struggled against the sticky, burning cocoon Bruce had engineered. Smoke and the acrid scent of burning alcohol filled the air, stinging eyes and choking the senses, while the firelight danced across Brooke's determined face.
Bob grinned, gripping his axe, knowing their combined chaos had finally put Gigaleon on the defensive.
"Let's see how you dance in this, bastard!" Brooke shouted, her revolvers humming with mana as the blaze crackled around them.
The fire roared, and for a fleeting moment the pirates thought they had won. Gigaleon's form writhed inside the sticky blaze, his silhouette twisting until it collapsed in a violent boom.
Bruce pumped his fist in triumph. "Ha! That's what happens when ye mess with pirates, eh?"
Bob laughed breathlessly, gesturing a thumbs up to his brother Bruce. "Oi, Bruce, never thought I'd live to see the day ye pulled somethin' smart—"
The words cut off.
A low, mocking laugh slithered from the far end of the alley. Shadows bent, and out from the black corner stepped a figure—untouched, unburned, his grin wider than before.
"Did you really think… that was me?" Gigaleon's voice dripped with venomous amusement. "How precious."
Behind him, the burning figure—his clone—collapsed into ash. Then the air split as the body erupted, an explosion shaking the street. The ground cracked, wooden pallets splintered beneath Bruce's boots, and he stumbled—exposed.
Gigaleon's threads whistled through the firelight, snapping forward like fangs.
"BRUCE!" Bob bellowed.
Bruce tried to roll away, but his balance failed him. The threads cut down with merciless precision—
—and in that heartbeat, Bob threw himself in front of his brother.
The sound was sickening. Flesh tearing. Armor shredding. Bob's back lit up with crimson lines as the threads tore deep into him, ripping across bone and muscle. His axe clattered against the ground.
"BOB!" Bruce's roar shook the night. He caught his brother as the big man slumped, blood pooling at his feet.
Bob coughed, spitting crimson, but forced a laugh through clenched teeth.
"Tch… guess… guess my back was always broader, eh, Bruce? Had to be good for somethin'..."
Bruce's vision blurred, rage and tears burning his eyes.
"Don't—don't talk like that, you stubborn ox."
Bob grinned weakly, gripping Bruce's arm. "Oi… don't forget… pirates stick together… 'til the end."
Brooke's heart shattered at the sight. For a second, her smirk, her mask of confidence, all of it cracked. Her fingers trembled as she drew both revolvers—Issyl and Friddert—the polished barrels glinting in the firelight.
Her voice shook, but her aim did not.
"You bastard… I'll carve your smile off your face!"
Gigaleon's laughter only grew, twisted, delighted at their anguish. He twirled his fingers, threads snapping like whips in the night. "Yes… yes! That's the face I wanted to see! Show me despair, pirate queen. Show me what makes you worthy prey!"
The street erupted in chaos again—Brooke unloading round after round, the muzzle flashes painting her face in fury as Gigaleon danced between shadow and flame, his threads slicing stone, steel, and air alike.
Bruce held Bob with one arm, dragging him away from the direct fight, but his bloodied hands shook as he tried to press the wounds closed. Bob's laughter faded to pained groans, yet his eyes burned with defiance.
"Captain… don't hold back. Make that bastard pay."
Brooke's jaw clenched, tears threatening, but she never broke her focus. Every shot was aimed at Gigaleon's head, her fury sharp and relentless.
The alley burned with fury and grief. Brooke's eyes blazed as her fingers gripped Issyl and Friddert tight. Her revolvers pulsed—no longer mere steel, but conduits of her rage.
The runes etched along the barrels shimmered awake, ancient glyphs glowing crimson and azure, binding themselves to her heartbeat. Her skin cracked with streams of mana, glowing veins of light carving across her arms.
The next shot she fired wasn't lead. It was essence. A bullet woven from her very soul.
BANG!
The mana bullet tore through the air, faster than light, splitting Gigaleon's threads into dust. Another. And another. Each pull of the trigger was not a weapon's function—it was Brooke's defiance manifest.
BANG! BANG! BANG!
Infinite rounds burst forth, her body bleeding mana into the revolvers. Threads shattered. Shadows evaporated. Gigaleon stumbled, his grin faltering for the first time as his web unraveled.
"Impossible…" he hissed, arms twitching to conjure more strands, but the barrage was relentless. The alley quaked with magical thunder, every cobblestone flashing white with each shot.
Brooke roared as tears streaked her cheeks. "This is for MY CREW!"
Gigaleon staggered, slammed against a wall, his body riddled with the magical bullets. His wicked smile twisted again, but this time into something darker.
"Bravo, pirate queen," he rasped, coughing shadows. "But you've shown your hand… Now let me show mine."
With a snap of his fingers, his body rippled. Shadows peeled off him, splitting, stretching, twisting—until the alley swarmed with clones. Ten of them, each grinning, each dripping threads of soul-energy.
Four broke off immediately, sprinting toward Bruce and the bleeding Bob.
Five launched themselves at Brooke in a frenzy, their claws and threads slicing the air.
The last one hung back, giggling. "Which will it be, my dear huntress? Save yourself… or save them?"
His words carved into her like knives.
Brooke's breaths came ragged. Her revolvers hummed with unstable mana, sparks dancing across her skin. She glanced at Bruce—cradling Bob, whose blood ran like a river. Their eyes met.
Bruce shook his head, tears falling. "Don't you dare—don't you dare waste it on us, Captain. Finish it!"
The world slowed.
Brooke clenched her jaw, aimed her revolvers… not at the clones racing for her crew, but at the five charging her head-on.
BANG! BANG! BANG!
The first clone exploded. Then the second. Third. Fourth. Fifth.
Each burst shook the alley like thunder, showering fire and shards of shadow. Brooke's arms shook, her body screaming, but she refused to fall.
Gigaleon's laughter rang out, twisted with delight. "Ahh… the right decision! How very fitting. Savage, selfish, pirate queen! You lived up to your title. Now…"
The four remaining clones stretched their bodies wide, threads glowing red, preparing to detonate. "Say goodbye to your precious crew."
His voice dripped venom as the word left his tongue—
"DEATH."
The clones reached their mark. Bob closed his eyes. Bruce wrapped his arms around him, bracing for the firestorm.
And then—
CLANG!
A massive black shield slammed into the ground before them. Runes etched deep into its metal pulsed like a heartbeat. The explosions went off in a blinding fury—
—but the flames curled inward, devoured, absorbed, not even a speck of dust escaping past the wall of steel.
When the smoke cleared, the shield still stood, unwavering.
Behind it, a figure stepped forward. A towering knight clad in dusk-black armor, his presence suffocating yet oddly protective. His hand rested on the colossal shield like it weighed nothing.
Brooke blinked in disbelief. Bruce and Bob gasped.
The warrior's voice was calm, unshaken.
"Pathetic tricks. You'll need more than shadows to break through me."
Gigaleon's grin faltered, eyes narrowing.
"You!!."
The Adventurer in black armor tilted his head, his eyes glinting beneath the helm.
"It's been a while since I've had to block something so… noisy."
Bruce whispered hoarsely,
"W-who the hell…?"
Brooke's eyes widened, recognition dawning. It was him. The aloof adventurer from the tavern. The one who had warned her.
It was Zeer.
He planted the shield into the ground, the metal echoing like a war drum. "Rest easy, pirates. From here… they'll have to get through me first."
The air grew heavy, charged with mystery and dread, as the tide of battle shifted once more.