The chamber had descended into chaos.
Guards poured in waves, their weapons fired in synchronized bursts that lit the air with streaks of energy.
Arcee moved first, her body weaving through the barrage with sharp precision.
She deflected a close-range strike and countered with a sweeping kick that sent one guard crashing into another, their formation breaking instantly.
Blyke followed through the gap. He surged forward, striking fast and hard. His blows landed in rapid succession.
One guard barely raised his weapon before Blyke drove a punch into his chest, sending him skidding across the floor. He pivoted, ducked under incoming fire and slammed another opponent into the wall with brute force.
Cagaro took the center. His movements were controlled, efficient. He intercepted two guards at once, redirecting their attacks into each other before finishing them with precise, decisive strikes.
"These are too many!" Blyke shouted.
The sky beyond the broken structure flickered unnaturally, as if something vast was beginning to tear open. The sky colour changed into a mixture of indigo and crimson as it slowly began to tore.
A shockwave ripped through the battlefield.
Several guards were thrown aside instantly.
Caius stepped into the chamber. His presence alone shifted the fight.
Without a word, he charged forward. One guard was lifted by leg and slammed into another gaurd furiously. Another was struck aside with overwhelming force.
The formation was breaking under his advance.
Arcee glanced back briefly. "About time."
Now, the path to Roland began to open.
....
The machine behind Roland pulsed harder now, its rhythm syncing with something far larger beyond the sky. The air itself felt unstable, as if reality was beginning to loosen its grip.
Henry stood firm on his spot. Roland stood opposite to him. Neither of them attacked.
Roland spoke first. "You can still walk away from this," he said, quiet beneath the crackling fire. "Join me."
Henry's expression did not change.
"Join you?" he repeated, almost amused. "After everything?"
Roland did not flinch. "I am not asking for blind loyalty. I am offering purpose. A world where your strength is not wasted holding together something that is already getting destroyed."
Henry let out a soft breath, then shook his head. "No."
The answer was simple.
Then he stepped forward slightly.
"But let me ask you something." Henry continued, his voice lowering. "Why don't you come back instead?"
Roland's gaze sharpened. Henry held it.
"You do not need to carry everything alone." he said. "Even if the world misunderstands you, I will be always beside you."
The words lingered. Something unreadable passed through Roland's eyes. Then it was gone.
"I am not carrying anything." Roland replied evenly. "There is no use being good in your monkey pair of eyes if the world doesn't know my worth."
Henry gave an awkward smile, though it did not reach his eyes. "That is what you tell yourself so it feels lighter."
Roland's grip tightened slightly on Kanto. Henry's voice grew firmer now.
"I am not a tool, Roland. I am not going to live my life being used, no matter how noble the reason sounds. I am not someone who works for whoever gives the most convincing argument or benefits."
Roland answered immediately.
"If you are not being used, you are useless. The goal is not to avoid being used. The goal is to be used by the right people, for the right reasons. But sometimes you have to be your own hero, because in the end of the day, everyone else is too busy trying to save themselves."
Henry went still.
For a moment, the battlefield faded.
"…You were there," Henry said quietly.
Roland did not respond to it yet.
Henry's eyes narrowed slightly, realization settling in. "The auditorium..." he continued. "That day."
The day everything changed. The day Henry stood before everyone and was given the title, recognition, the weight of expectation...
The day Roland was supposed to be gone. Roland finally spoke. "How could I miss it? My former best friend's speech. His special day."
The words carried something deeper than sarcasm. Henry exhaled slowly, tension tightening in his chest.
"You all were thinking I am dead, aren't you?" Roland chuckled softly. "And yet," he said calmly, "here I am."
The flames between them flickered violently, shadows stretching across the chamber like living things.
Roland tilted his head slightly, crimson blade glinting in the firelight.
"Henry, tell me." he said lightly, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, "would you forgive me if I killed you… and the others? Right here, right now?"
Henry's grin was quick, sharp. "Forgive you? After all the ways you have butchered my sense of timing and personal space? You would better start writing apology letters now. I'd roast you so hard even the fires wouldn't want to touch your ego."
Roland's smirk widened, though his eyes never left Henry. "You are acting too loud suddenly after meeting me."
Henry shifted in his white cloak, producing something from within. A pair of shoes, oddly pristine against the carnage around them.
He stepped forward, placing them carefully on the scorched metal floor, then stepped back.
His hands rested on the cloak edges. "I promised you these." he said, voice soft now, almost wistful. "Back then… I said I would buy you a pair of shoes. But… I was late."
Roland blinked, a flicker of genuine surprise crossing his features. "So you kept these shoes in your cloak?" His tone was half disbelief, half amusement. "You are the same autistic boy from before."
Henry's grin softened. "Old habits die hard."
Roland hesitated a moment, then reached down and picked up the shoes. He examined them carefully, fingers brushing the leather.
The corners of his mouth lifted slightly, genuinely, as if a small curse had been lifted from his chest.
"Thank you." he said quietly.
Henry stepped back, letting the gesture exist without interruption. The firelight played across Roland's features and for a fleeting moment, the harsh lines of the man who sought to remake the world softened into the boy he had once been.
A boy who remembered simple promises, simple kindness and the rare trust of a friend who had never abandoned him, even in the edge of chaos.
Henry's hand rose, fingers curling around the hilt of his Astra. A subtle hum filled the chamber as the flames warped around them.
"Astra... Window of the Sky." he intoned.
Light coalesced along his arms, then spread outward, forming a translucent framework of energy that shimmered like fractured glass. His black katana formed in his hand.
Roland's crimson katana shifted in response, Kanto's blaze licked the air, edges vibrating with deadly anticipation.
Both men squared up. Their stances primed with every ounce of instinct and training.