The air in Gaisen's domain shifted.
It wasn't just the wind or the trembling of the stone—it was something deeper, something that pressed against reality itself. The crimson sky warped faintly, bending around a presence that did not belong.
Then it came.
A monstrous, dragon-shaped being tore through the edge of the domain—not like Gaisen, not like anything Youri had seen so far in Tartarus. It didn't feel like a ruler born from chaos.
It felt… constructed.
Refined.
Its form resembled that of a viverrine—sleek, predatory, and precise. Its torso was powerful yet streamlined, wrapped in segmented plating that looked less like flesh and more like intricately forged metal. Each plate overlapped seamlessly with the next, forming a natural armor that reflected the dim crimson light in muted, cold tones. Dark ridges traced along its spine, rising and falling like the teeth of a blade, before extending into a long, sweeping tail that tapered into a feathered, razor-edged flourish.
Its wings were vast—yet ghostly.
They stretched outward with an unnatural elegance, their membranes thin and translucent like frost-touched silk. Light passed through them in pale waves, making them seem almost unreal. And yet, every slow beat of those wings carried immense, controlled power—as if the creature could erase its presence from existence with a single motion.
Its limbs were lean, coiled with quiet strength, ending in talons that dug into the rocky ground with effortless authority.
Gaisen roared.
The entire domain answered that roar—the cliffs trembled, the floating stones quivered, and the wind surged violently as the ruler of this domain reacted to the intrusion.
Without hesitation, Gaisen lunged.
Its massive body tore through the air, claws extended, fangs bared—an unstoppable force aiming to annihilate the trespasser.
But the viverrine did not move.
Because it was not alone.
High upon its back, a figure sat.
Still. Composed.
Untouched by the chaos around him.
The rider looked as though he had always belonged there—like he and the creature beneath him were not separate beings, but a single will split into two forms. The viverrine's pale, banded scales and translucent wings framed him like a throne of living power, elevating his presence rather than overshadowing it.
His armor gleamed white against the darker tones of the beast, etched with gold accents that mirrored the creature's own metallic edges. The design was flawless—neither ornamental nor excessive, but purposeful, refined, absolute.
A long, horned helm crowned his head, its sharp contours echoing the jagged ridges of the viverrine beneath him. From his shoulders flowed a blue-and-white mantle, streaming behind him like a banner caught in an eternal wind.
One hand rested near the base of the creature's neck—calm, steady.
The other hovered near his weapon.
Not tense.
Not rushed.
Ready.
As Gaisen closed the distance, roaring with enough force to fracture the sky—
The knight moved.
Slowly.
Deliberately.
He rose to his feet atop the viverrine's back.
And then—
He drew his sword.
A golden blade.
But not merely gold.
It burned.
Not with fire, but with something purer—something that radiated authority, as if the blade itself carried a law that the world had no choice but to obey.
At that exact moment, the viverrine surged upward.
Its wings snapped open with a silent explosion of force, propelling it skyward at impossible speed. It climbed higher and higher, leaving Gaisen's charge to tear through empty air beneath it.
Then—
It stopped.
Perfectly still in the sky.
And the knight—
Jumped.
He fell.
Straight down.
No hesitation. No adjustment. No fear.
A single line of motion, cutting through the air like a falling star.
Gaisen reacted instantly.
It twisted midair, redirecting its momentum, launching itself upward with savage force. Its claws carved through the air, aiming to tear the descending figure apart before he could land.
For a split second—
The two forces aligned.
Gaisen's claws met the knight's descent.
And the knight swung.
The golden blade moved in a single, flawless arc.
No wasted motion.
No visible effort.
But the moment it connected—
The world split.
A blinding surge of golden energy erupted outward, not as an explosion—but as a command. The air shattered around the impact point, the force tearing through Gaisen's massive frame as if reality itself had rejected its presence.
The roar that followed was not one of dominance—
But of pain.
Gaisen's entire body was sent crashing backward, its immense form slamming into the rocky terrain below with catastrophic force. Cliffs shattered. Pillars collapsed. Floating stones cracked and scattered as the ruler of the domain was driven into a heap of broken rock.
Silence followed.
Heavy.
Unbelievable.
The knight continued his descent—but before he could touch the ground, the viverrine was already there.
It swept beneath him with perfect timing, catching him midair as if gravity itself obeyed their synchronization. Its wings spread once more, carrying him forward in a smooth, controlled glide.
And then—
It turned.
Toward Youri.
Toward Lea.
Youri's breath caught in his throat.
"What… is that thing?" he asked, his voice low, tense.
Lea didn't look away from the approaching figure.
"That's no ordinary being," she said quietly.
There was something in her voice—something rare.
Not fear.
Recognition.
"…That," she continued, "is a Knight of Sacros."
Youri frowned. "A what?"
But Lea didn't answer.
Her eyes narrowed as the viverrine passed overhead, its presence casting a long, shifting shadow across them. The wind it carried was cold—unnaturally still, like the calm before a storm.
"…But what is he doing here?" she whispered.
The creature descended.
Not toward them.
Toward Altopereh.
The broken Orbiton stood partially buried in sand and dust, silent and hollow—its core empty, dark, waiting.
The viverrine hovered above it, wings beating slowly, holding position with effortless control.
The knight dropped.
He landed with a single knee striking the ground—firm, controlled, deliberate.
Then he rose.
No rush.
No wasted movement.
He began to walk.
Step by step, he approached Altopereh.
Youri felt something twist in his chest.
That pulse.
It surged violently now.
"…No," Youri muttered under his breath.
The knight reached the Orbiton.
He stood before its empty core.
And then—
He raised his hand.
High into the crimson sky.
A circle formed.
Golden.
Burning.
Not like fire—but like a rift carved into reality itself. It expanded rapidly, its edges swirling with radiant energy as space inside it distorted, folding inward.
From within that circle—
Something emerged.
Dark.
Heavy.
A blade.
Unlike the golden sword he carried, this one was void-like—its shape jagged, its presence oppressive. It looked less like a weapon and more like a fracture given form.
Slowly, it descended into his hand.
As his fingers closed around it, the golden circle collapsed, dissolving into fragments of light that vanished into the air.
For a moment—
Everything was still.
Then—
He moved.
With a single, decisive motion, the knight drove the dark blade forward—
And pierced it straight into Altopereh's empty core.
The impact echoed like a heartbeat across the domain.
And then—
Darkness erupted.
Not outward like an explosion—
But inward, consuming.
A surge of black energy flooded the Orbiton, spreading through its frame like veins igniting with void. The ground trembled violently, the air distorting as the very essence of Tartarus reacted.
Youri staggered back slightly, eyes wide.
"What is he doing!?" he shouted.
Lea didn't answer.
She was staring.
Frozen.
"…He's sealing it," she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper.
The dark energy intensified.
Altopereh's frame began to tremble—awakening, reacting, resisting.
And something deep within it—
Something ancient—
Stirred.