The Void Castle hung in the sky like a monument to death.
Five hundred feet above Fishman Island. Silent. Absolute. Its shadow swallowed the mist-choked jungle below, turning day into a premature, artificial dusk.
On the main platform, four figures stood at the precipice.
Elya stood at the center. His white hair whipped violently in the high-altitude wind. He wore a green and white outfit, tailored with a precision that was formal yet deadly, the large "G" symbol stitched across his back—a brand of the untouchable. His golden eyes were fixed on the island below. Calm and unwavering.
To his left: Alexia. Dark hair tied back tight, green uniform sharp, her white boots gleaming even in the castle's shadow. Arms crossed.
To his right: Lin. Her red hair blazed like a localized sun. He wore the same uniform, her fingers twitching with a rhythmic, eager hunger.
Behind them: Ban. Golden hair fell loose over one eye. His collar was unbuttoned, a cigarette dangling from his lips as the smoke curled lazily, ignored by the wind. Relaxed. Always relaxed.
Elya stepped forward until his boots overhung the very edge. He looked down at five hundred feet of open air. Jagged trees rose like spears. Guard towers dotted the coastline. Below them, Vaelcrest's forces moved in rigid formations—hundreds of soldiers with rifles on their backs and steel at their hips.
Elya didn't hesitate. He simply stepped off.
He just fell.
His coat snapped like a whip. His hair streamed upward. Hands remained shoved deep in his pockets as he plummeted.
Ban took a long, final drag of his cigarette, exhaled a cloud into the abyss, and stepped off after him. Cigarette still lit. Hands in his pockets. Falling as if gravity were a suggestion he chose to follow. Lin and Alexia followed in synchronized silence.
Four figures. Plummeting. The wind screamed, and the ground rushed up to meet them.
CRACK.
Elya hit first. He slammed into a massive tree branch in the center of the canopy. The wood groaned and bent under the sheer kinetic force, but it didn't snap. He crouched for a heartbeat, absorbing the impact with raw, unenhanced strength.
He stood up slowly. Hands still in his pockets.
Ban landed to his right, his cigarette miraculously still burning. Lin hit the left, a predatory grin splitting her face as the branch beneath her cracked. Alexia landed behind, completing the Diamond Formation.
For three seconds, the jungle held its breath.
Then—a scream.
"INTRUDERS!" A soldier on the ground pointed upward, his voice cracking with a frantic, primal panic. "IN THE TREES! THERE!"
The jungle erupted. Hundreds of boots pounded the dirt. Metal clanked against metal. Orders were barked with desperate urgency.
"FORMATION! NOW!"
"WEAPONS READY!"
"FIRE ON MY COMMAND!"
The soldiers swarmed out from barracks and towers. They wore the Red and Black of Vaelcrest—the colors of a bloody empire. Rifles were raised. Bows were drawn.
One veteran soldier stopped dead. His pupils dilated in pure, unfiltered horror.
"The... the GHOST!"
The name rippled through the ranks like a plague.
"The one who split the grove?"
"OPEN FIRE!"
BANG.
The treeline lit up. These weren't normal bullets; they glowed with the sickly hues of green and red—Rune-infused ammunition designed to pierce the hide of a Witch. Arrows whistled through the air, tipped with the same jagged energy.
Elya didn't move. He watched the projectiles arc toward him.
Ban exhaled a plume of smoke. "Give the orders, Captain."
Elya's eyes ignited. Two golden suns burned in his skull, casting a divine radiance over the dark jungle. He looked down at the red-and-black sea of soldiers and spoke. His voice was a whisper, but it carried the weight of a death sentence.
"Show no mercy."
The air shifted. Lin's grin widened into something monstrous. Ban flicked his cigarette, letting it spin through the leaves. Alexia cracked her knuckles.
They moved.
They didn't release their Spada. These men weren't worthy of their souls.
Elya dropped. He landed in the dead center of a six-man squad. Before they could pull their triggers, his hand shot out. He grabbed the nearest rifle and crushed the metal barrel like wet paper. In one fluid motion, he swung the man like a club into two others.
CRACK.
Bones shattered. Bodies were launched through the air. He spun—elbow to a jaw, knee to a gut, a palm strike to a chest that sent a soldier's ribs through his lungs. It was precise and efficient.
Nearby, a soldier swung a broadsword at Ban. Ban caught the blade with his bare hand. He yanked the man forward, met his forehead with a sickening thud, and tossed the broken sword aside. He kept walking, hands back in his pockets, kicking a charging soldier so hard the man cleared the treeline before hitting a trunk.
Lin was a blur of violence. He laughed as she tore through the red-and-black ranks, throwing grown men into each other like dolls. Alexia was the silent reaper—throat strikes, pressure point jabs, and leg sweeps.
The four of them carved through hundreds. No weapons. Just overwhelming superiority.
The gunfire stopped. The arrows ceased. The "invincible" army of Vaelcrest was scattering, screaming, and fleeing into the dark of the trees.
The Ghost Corporation didn't chase. They stood in the clearing, surrounded by a carpet of red-and-black uniforms and broken bodies. Their breathing was steady.
Elya's eyes remained golden. Unwavering.
THE VOID CASTLE
Five hundred feet above, Mira sat alone in a tower room.
A large canvas stood before her. She wasn't watching the slaughter. She didn't want to. Instead, she looked at the sky. She saw the soft, drifting clouds. She saw the birds flying in perfect, peaceful formations. She saw the distant, dark line of the continent on the horizon and she drew.
Her pencil moved with a gentle, loving grace. Light strokes. Round clouds. A soaring bird.
She hummed a soft tune—a melody from a mother long gone. While blood soaked the island below and the air filled with the scent of iron and gunpowder, Mira drew the sky.
She chose to see beauty. She chose to build a world where no one had to fight stroke by stroke.