Chapter 2
There was no sound except the whisper of the wind and the scraping of metal still burning hot.
Yet amid that silence, a faint calm emerged—carried by the presence of that girl, as if her existence alone stabilized the boundary between ruin and order.
Ilux raised his face, his gaze hovering somewhere between relief and confusion.
He signaled that he was fine, that the wound he suffered was not severe enough to bring him down.
For a moment, his expression resembled that of someone who had just returned from the edge of death, only to find the world still turning.
Erietta glanced at him briefly.
Her eyes were cold but not cruel, calm yet filled with warning.
In that gaze lingered an understanding—that the war was not over, that danger did not always come from what could be seen.
Erietta reminded him not to let his guard down and to remain vigilant of his surroundings.
"It's time."
"Agreed, Erietta."
It didn't take long before the air around them began to tremble once more.
Ilux Rediona, with his right hand gripping a claw-shaped object, moved as though guided by instincts forged through countless battlefields.
But upon closer look, the claw was no ordinary weapon—it resembled an elongated metallic rod, pointed at its tip, glimmering faintly as if it harbored a light refusing to die.
One swift motion—and the air hissed.
The metal shot free from his hand, slicing backward with such speed that even sound couldn't catch up.
In the split second before it was thrown, Ilux's back met Erietta's—two opposing forces blending into silent harmony, like light and darkness forced to dance upon the edge of destruction.
Their bodies turned in perfect balance.
As Ilux's weapon shot through the air, ripping apart something unseen behind them, Erietta raised her right hand, two fingers extended gracefully yet exerting enough pressure to shake the space around her.
Her movement wasn't harsh—it was almost gentle, like a misplaced caress striking a shadow that dared to come too close.
But from that simple motion, something impossible was born—a radiant hand fan, woven from prayers and sacred whispers, as though gathered from a sky that once wept over a battlefield.
The fan danced through the air, spinning with terrifying beauty, leaving trails of light that curved like the wings of burning angels.
Each rotation created spirals of energy that lifted dust, tore through the air, and swept away anything that dared approach.
Ilux turned slightly, his eyes catching the fleeting miracle born from Erietta's fingers.
Behind him, the pointed weapon he had thrown struck something invisible—triggering a silent explosion, as if the world itself had split apart before it could even scream.
The next blast gave the earth no time to breathe.
The light that once burned in the distance now erupted right before their eyes.
It was no longer fire that burned—but something far more horrifying.
An explosion made of blood.
The crimson liquid burst into the air as fine fragments, swirling like rose petals refusing to fall, before gathering again midair, forming a pulsating mass—alive, breathing like a heart forced to beat outside its body.
In an instant, the blood writhed, twisting like a sentient being, then solidified into hundreds of sharp shards reflecting greenish light at every edge.
The air grew cold and heavy.
Time slowed as those blood spears shot forward, slicing through the wind with barely a sound.
Ilux, guided by reflexes honed through countless battles, tried to raise his arm—summoning back the metallic rod he had thrown.
But the blood was faster, piercing through the gap of movement, cutting the air with terrifying precision.
Erietta, meanwhile, sharpened her gaze, her green eyes reflecting the swirling crimson around her, as though she stood in the center of a storm birthing monsters.
The attack was so sharp that every thrust seemed to carry its own will.
"Begin!"
"I've—WAITED LONG ENOUGH!!"
Erietta closed her eyes, allowing the world around her to dissolve into silence, vibrating with the echo of explosions past.
When she opened them again, time itself halted—frozen only to witness the sacred flame that erupted from within her, burning the blood suspended in the air.
The red liquid began to melt into golden light, hissing softly like the final whisper of a cursed creature fading before it could scream.
In her eyes, calm and unfeeling—neither anger nor mercy—Erietta spoke a single word.
Short. Simple. Commanding.
'Now.'
That utterance was like a signal for the heavens to move.
Ilux leapt instantly, his body merging with the shadows on the ground, becoming a silhouette slipping silently behind Erietta.
His movement was fast—almost beyond human perception.
He passed behind her with perfect precision, like two sides of a blade moving in flawless harmony.
When his shadow touched the ground again, Ilux already gripped his weapon firmly—and his strike pierced something previously unseen, no more than a faint vibration in the air, elusive like deceptive wind.
But as the weapon's tip tore through empty space, liquid burst forth—splattering with a strange golden hue, shattering the silence with its blinding light.
The creature's body, once invisible, slowly emerged from behind a wall of air.
Its form was shapeless, a fusion of flesh and mist never quite becoming either.
When its body was impaled, the sharp weapon Ilux held skewered it from the other side, guiding its motion as though it were a puppet controlled by unseen strings.
Its movements dragged along with his steps, each stomp leaving glowing scars across the earth.
The air around them grew thick—filled with the sweet, rotten scent of death.
And finally, the creature's head fell.
A light flick of Ilux's wrist was enough to separate it from its grotesque body.
That head landed in the hands of the green-haired girl, golden blood still dripping from the tips of her hair that shimmered faintly beneath the sacred light.
The headless body collapsed to the ground, trembling briefly before falling still—becoming part of the silent scene once more, filled with cold light and dust dancing beneath a colorless sky.
'Mission to eliminate Ar'tushamth: complete.Glad to help—off the record.'
Far away, beyond the heart of the explosion now faded into stillness, an old warehouse stood grim among the ash and dim light.
Its walls were peeling, marred by scorch marks and claw-like scratches, as though made by a creature that defied definition.
There, several dozen meters from the field recently consumed by destruction, a young man of about nineteen sat half upright, half kneeling—as if his body refused to decide between fleeing or staying to witness.
His left hand covered a quarter of his face, his movements steady yet strained, like someone holding back the pulse of memories on the verge of breaking free.
A small golden notebook rested upon his knee, no larger than a palm—small enough to fit into the narrow pocket of his trousers.
Across the paper, lines of letters formed swiftly—written with a composure unbefitting someone who had just witnessed death and fire in a single breath.
To be continued…