The flames of battle painted the sky in shades of red and gold as the armies of Elydria pushed forward once more, but the field still trembled from the aftershocks of Mammon's retreat. The demonic portals were collapsing, yet the enemy forces left behind fought like creatures who knew they had already died—feral, desperate, rabid.
Rales stood atop a shattered barricade, cloak torn and face streaked with soot. He yelled over the roar of clashing steel, pointing toward the wedge formation forming near the ridge. "Hold your lines! Don't let their berserkers break through! We cannot falter now—Victory is in reach!"
Lucia remained in the rear lines, hands trembling as she kept her gaze fixed on the healer's tent where Morix lay unconscious. Every few seconds, her fingers tightened around the hilt of her dagger. She wanted to be out there beside him, fighting, bleeding, doing anything but waiting—but Facilia had blocked her each time.
"He'll wake up," Facilia repeated softly, placing a gentle hand on Lucia's shoulder as the latter's eyes threatened to fill again. "Morix isn't someone fate can put down so easily."
Lucia's voice cracked. "He was so… broken. I've never seen him like that. I didn't know what to do."
"You did the only thing that could save him," Facilia whispered. "You stayed. And someone else reached him too."
Lucia stiffened. "The Faceless Lady…"
Facilia nodded. "Whatever she is… she calms something inside him. It's not normal, Lucia. But it's not malicious either."
Before Lucia could respond, Rales stormed into the tent, sweat dripping down his temple but his posture still commanding.
"How is he?" he asked.
"Stable," Facilia replied, wiping Morix's forehead. "But he's still recovering from the Wrath backlash. If he wakes now and loses control…"
Lucia cut her off. "He won't. Not after she appeared."
Rales exhaled sharply. "That woman. Or spirit. Or whatever she is. I need answers someday."
"I don't think she's a threat," Lucia said quickly. "She touched him… so gently. Like she knew him."
Rales eyed the unconscious Morix with something like frustration mixed with worry. "That idiot better wake up. The battlefield is shifting again."
As if on cue, a deep rumble shook the ground, followed by the sound of massive footsteps. Elydrian soldiers scrambled back, faces twisting with fear.
From behind the crumbling ridge, a towering general of Mammon's legion emerged—a giant plated in obsidian armor, carrying a blade longer than a wagon. His roar shook the battlefield.
Lucia flinched. "Not again…"
Rales slapped his palms together. "Oh wonderful. Another oversized tantrum machine."
Facilia's eyes widened. "That's the Gore Titan. One of Mammon's elite."
Rales grinned through exhaustion. "Perfect. Just what I needed today."
He grabbed his spear, turned, and shouted across the field, "ALL UNITS! FORM A DEFENSIVE BARRIER! DO NOT LET THAT MONSTER BREAK THE CENTER!"
The Gore Titan charged with earth-splitting steps.
Rales rushed forward.
Facilia gasped. "Prince Rales—!"
But she froze as she saw something else—Damion.
The younger prince cut through demons like a storm of violet steel, every strike creating a spray of black blood. His movements were smoother than before, faster, almost… unnatural.
But what Facilia noticed wasn't his strength.
It was the shadow walking beside him.
No one else seemed to see it.
A hooded figure—tall, nearly touching Damion's shoulder—leaned close, whispering something in his ear. Damion's lips twitched into a twisted grin.
"That's right," the hooded figure murmured, voice soft like poison. "Let them see. Let them forget Morix. Show them who should truly be feared."
Damion exhaled sharply, pupils narrowing. "They will. They all will."
Another whisper. "Everyone looks at him. But you? You're the one they should kneel to."
Damion's blade flared bright violet as he surged forward, cutting down an entire row of demons with a single strike.
Facilia stepped back, horrified. "Damion… who are you talking to?"
He didn't hear her.
Only the hooded figure answered.
"Let envy sharpen you, prince."
Damion grinned viciously. "I'll show them."
The shadow's smile widened beneath the hood. "Yes… show them."
Before Facilia could intervene, a deafening impact shattered the air.
Rales had clashed with the Gore Titan.
His spear met the giant's blade, sparks erupting like fireworks. The shockwave threw nearby soldiers sprawling.
Rales grit his teeth, sliding back several meters. "Damn… you're heavy."
The Gore Titan roared and swung again.
Lucia screamed, "RALES!"
Facilia grabbed her. "Don't! You can't leave Morix!"
But Lucia trembled. "I can't just watch them die!"
Another colossal strike sent Rales rolling across the dirt, coughing blood. The Titan raised its blade to finish him.
Lucia's voice broke. "Stop… someone stop it…"
She looked back at Morix's still form, tears spilling freely now.
"Please… wake up…"
Like a spark catching flame, a faint glow pulsed around Morix's heart. The air shimmered around his fingers. His eyelids tightened as if something inside him was trying—desperately—to rise.
Facilia sucked in a breath. "He's responding to her voice."
Rales struggled to stand as the Titan closed in again.
Damion, possessed by adrenaline and envy, carved through enemies but didn't turn to help, too consumed by the whispers fueling his rage.
Lucia held Morix's hand tightly, pressing her forehead against his.
"Wake up, please… you promised me you'd come back."
The ground shook.
Rales fell to one knee.
Lucia shook Morix desperately.
"Wake up!"
And Morix's fingers closed around hers.
The entire tent jolted as a surge of crimson lightning shot up his arm, exploding outward like a storm awakening.
Facilia stumbled back, covering her mouth.
"He's regaining control… the Wrath is stabilizing."
On the battlefield, the Gore Titan raised its blade high above Rales.
And at that exact moment—
A shockwave burst from the healer's tent.
Red lightning cracked the sky open.
Soldiers across the field stopped mid-battle, staring toward the explosion of crimson light.
Rales's eyes widened. "No way…"
Lucia gasped.
Facilia smiled through tears.
Morix stood.
His eyes opened slowly, glowing deep red—but calm, steady, controlled.
His aura rose like a divine storm reborn.
He stepped out of the tent.
And every demon on the battlefield felt it.
For the first time since Mammon appeared…
The Wrath of a Sword Master woke with clarity.
Morix lifted his hand toward the battlefield, voice low, steady, terrifyingly controlled.
"Who… threatened my people?"
The Gore Titan froze mid-swing.
Lightning crackled along Morix's shoulders as he took a step forward.
The ground cratered beneath his foot.
"I'm done resting."
Lucia whispered, breath trembling, "Morix…"
The chapter ends with Morix cracking his neck, eyes locked on the Gore Titan, while Damion turns slowly—envy burning, the hooded shadow whispering behind him:
"He's awake. And you hate it, don't you? Good… very good."
A storm was about to sweep the battlefield.
And Morix was its heart.