The heat radiating off Vanki was absolute and overwhelming, capable of reshaping the very world around him. The hard, resilient stone floor that had served the Forge for decades no longer held its original form beneath his armored boots. It softened, cracked, and fused together, quickly turning into a churning, glowing lake of molten slag.
An intense orange aura expanded outward from his colossal frame, devouring oxygen within seconds. Breathing grew heavy and painful; light bent and warped, casting long, twisted, almost demonic shadows across every wall and ruin of the yard.
Amidst this sea of heat and destruction, Arthur stood his ground, still and solid as a mountain.
Vanki clenched his hands into fists with every ounce of strength he possessed. His skin and the armor plating covering it, already superheated by his own power, began to glow a deep, burning red. He raised both arms high above his head, muscles rippling and straining to their absolute limit, ready to deliver a strike powerful enough to shatter the earth and carve a deep fissure straight through the ground.
Before the general could bring his blow down with full force, the dark sky choked with smoke and soot seemed to tear completely open, ripped apart by a far greater power.
A deafening roar rang out—like thunder trapped inside a cavern, or a concentrated explosion—shattering the heavy, tense silence hanging over the ruined yard.
Vanki snapped his head upward. He barely had time to register what was happening before a blinding, pure white light plummeted straight toward him. It looked exactly like a meteor made of compressed air and raw atmospheric energy, condensed until it became heavy and solid.
Suki collided dead‑center inside the sphere of fire and heat Vanki had built around himself.
The impact was truly cataclysmic.
The kinetic force unleashed by Suki's arrival was overwhelming, far beyond anything built by human hands could ever endure. The moment his feet slammed into the ground, a shockwave exploded outward in every direction, racing through every beam, wall, and foundation of the Forge. The earth shook and split open in wide, jagged wounds spreading from the impact zone all the way to the compound's furthest edges.
A deafening crash followed instantly, a screech of tearing metal and grinding stone that sounded like a mountain crying out as it broke apart. Thick support pillars that had stood firm for centuries buckled and snapped with terrifying ease. Tall walls crumbled into massive blocks; heavy roofing and upper structures swayed, tipped, then collapsed entirely in an avalanche of stone, iron, and debris.
The Forge, which had weathered storms and years of harsh industrial use, finally surrendered. It sank and tilted, falling completely until it settled at the bottom of a wide, jagged crater formed right beneath the clash.
At the exact same instant, the towering orange pillar of flame and energy wrapping around Vanki—rising like a burning column all the way to the clouds—was struck down to its root. The violent pressure of the impact severed the steady flow of his aura, scattering and dissipating all that concentrated heat in a sudden, uncontrolled burst.
The brilliant glow faded fast. Flames shrank, losing both size and intensity, twisting and dying out one after another until that seemingly indestructible stream of power dissolved into floating sparks and warm smoke, vanishing completely within mere seconds.
When the thick cloud of dust, crushed rock, and fumes finally cleared enough to see, Suki slowly rose to his feet, his movements steady yet still thrumming with residual energy. Bright white luminous stripes pulsed rhythmically all over his body, shining with a cold, clean light that felt almost supernatural.
"Look who came back," Vanki said, narrowing his eyes in a mix of surprise and disdain.
Right then, Arthur's skin—still scorched, darkened, and charred black from the extreme heat—began to shift. Burns sealed shut; damaged layers fell away like dry bark. Little by little, a new surface formed, gray, hard, and polished. Regeneration complete.
He straightened his frame, muscles returning to their imposing bulk, and looked straight at the young man who had just dropped in.
"I told you I didn't need you," Arthur rumbled, voice deep and resonant.
"And I said I'd return once I found somewhere safe," Suki replied, tone unshaken. "I won't just leave a friend behind."
Vanki let out a rough, mocking laugh, opening his mouth wide to show teeth already stained with blood and combat residue.
"Boy… boy, your innocence makes me sick," he spat, as if the words themselves tasted foul.
Suki did not draw his sword, nor make any sudden motion suggesting an immediate strike. He merely raised his right hand, fingers slightly spread, and locked eyes with the general.
"I think we're past playing with fire now, Vanki," Suki said.
His voice stayed calm, almost quiet, yet carried absolute authority over the elements. It pressed heavy against every inch of the surrounding space.
He twisted his wrist sharply and precisely, like pulling a bolt shut.
"Vacuum."
In that exact heartbeat, all air vanished instantly. An invisible, flawless dome expanded outward, enclosing all three of them completely. No wind, no sound, no oxygen left to breathe. Only absolute, suffocating silence where even noise itself felt sucked away.
"That's new," Arthur commented, his voice sounding muffled and thin inside the bubble with no air to carry it.
"I've thought about it for a long time," Suki answered, keeping his focus locked tight to hold the technique steady.
Wasn't sure it'd work, but… it's proving pretty useful.
Fire required three things to exist: fuel, heat, and oxygen.
Stripped of every breath of air it needed to feed and keep burning, Vanki's blazing aura lost strength immediately. Without oxygen, all his fire‑based abilities became useless.
Vanki felt the lack of air slam into him like a fist to the chest. His lungs burned as if stuffed full of live embers, and the pain of cracked ribs and fractured bones—something he had ignored before through pure adrenaline—turned unbearable. He gasped wildly, but drew in nothing.
"What kind of cheap, dishonorable trick is this?!" he roared, voice raspy, weak, barely audible, struggling against suffocation and clawing for air that simply wasn't there.
"General Vanki," Suki said, his tone grave and firm, ringing with a serenity heavier than any war cry.
"I admit I didn't want our presence revealed this soon. We relied on silence and shadow to move unseen, and now that plan is broken. I must say I deeply dislike how things have unfolded."
"But since there is no smoke, no darkness left to hide behind, there is no reason to speak in half‑truths."
"I will be plain, direct, and final—to you, General, and to the one you serve and protect with such loyalty."
"We came here neither on a whim nor out of rebellion. We were sent directly, under express command and supreme authority, at the behest of Her Majesty—the Goddess Queen herself. Our mission is to intervene and end the tyranny Lord Tsukumo has inflicted across these lands."
"I want you to understand exactly why the Queen hasn't acted with full force yet. She sent us out of respect, out of regard, and in memory of Vangor—the God of Strength, Tsukumo's own father."
"If not for honoring a name once revered and feared through every realm, she would have wiped this empire and all its followers away with a single flick of her wrist before you even realized what happened."
"I do not know what twisted Tsukumo's mind or drove him to such blind, foolish choices. It is not my place to judge what he became."
"But one truth stands firm: from the moment he cast entire peoples and races to the brink of death and extinction within the Queen's dominion, he ceased being merely a ruler and openly defied the natural order of the universe."
"He raised his fists not against enemies, but against the supreme authority governing everything there is."
"And no greater insult exists, no graver sin than that."
"That is why a chance still remains. That is why I stand here speaking—not sword drawn, but bringing words of peace and a final opportunity."
"You, General Vanki, are his trusted man, his strong right arm, and the voice he listens to. Carry this message back with every weight and truth it bears."
"Tell Tsukumo I offer this: surrender to Lavinsk's justice, abandon his path of blood and conquest, and restore freedom to the peoples living in fear of him."
"If he accepts, all will be forgotten. Ruitan will return to the prosperous, happy, peaceful land it was before his rule. His soldiers, his generals, every soul who follows him, may return safely to Lavinsk—no persecution, no vengeance, no more war."
"But if you persist down this road… or dare try killing us for such hollow, foolish causes… know this: whoever is sent next will not come to talk, will not offer bargains."
"The next one sent will come to leave nothing but ruins."
The silence filling the dome I had woven felt terrifyingly deep. I could hear only the slow, heavy thud of my own heart, blood rushing through veins, and Arthur's faint, ragged breath—him too starved of air for a moment.
I waited for Vanki's answer. He seemed to weigh the offer carefully. Everything felt held in place—until something shifted.
Without warning, a strange pressure pressed against my technique, like shoving hard against glass. Not a single clean blow, but cutting energy—sharp, edged, unlike anything I had ever sensed before.
In a heartbeat that impression became a real tear. A glowing slit ripped open the air, swirling deep purple mixed with vivid green, exactly as if the atmosphere itself had been sliced apart.
Then came the sound—horribly loud, shrill, screeching like thick fabric torn apart, multiplied a thousandfold, as if space itself were splitting open right around us.
I felt control slipping right through my fingers.
My vacuum dome collapsed completely, dissolving into ripples of pressure exploding outward. Air, wind, and sound rushed back all at once, strong enough to make me stumble back a step instinctively.
And then came the laugh.
It seemed to pour straight out of Vanki's mouth, vibrating so hard the air rippled, yet within a second I knew—it wasn't his voice. It lacked that rough thickness, that raw brute rage.
This laugh was lighter, calculated, dripping with malice and cunning, confident as if whoever spoke already knew exactly how it all ended. Wily, cold, and amused—like treating the whole battle as nothing but a game.
As dust and mist swirled thinner, a figure stepped slowly out from behind Vanki's massive bulk.
My heart skipped a beat. The steady control I'd held a moment ago dissolved into tension so sharp my whole body locked up.
It was Katarina.
Her presence commanded respect instantly—slender yet towering height, posture sculpted from stone. Her skin was pale, white as polished porcelain, shining almost unnaturally under the dim, reddish light of the wreckage, contrasting sharply against the dark tactical armor she wore.
Strands of deep purple hair fell deliberately over the left side of her face, clearly meant to hide something. And hide it they did: beneath those locks, a dark, thick leather eyepatch covered that eye socket.
Her single visible eye locked straight onto mine. In that gaze lay pure coldness, sharp intelligence, and predator instinct honed to perfection.
"Ah… yes… rest assured I will pass every single word along to Lord Tsukumo, little boy," she said.
Her tone mixed exhaustion with biting irony as she leaned her full weight heavily against Vanki's side, using his robust frame just to stay upright after the effort of tearing my technique apart. Even so, she never lost her confident air.
"Tsukumo ordered me to handle this alone," Vanki rumbled, voice deep and steady, glancing sideways at her as if explaining obvious facts. "He entrusted the mission to me and expected it finished without help."
"I know, I know," Katarina replied, lifting her visible eyebrow, a smirk playing at the corner of lips but never reaching her eye. "But I couldn't just sit back at the garrison once I felt your aura blast miles away. Burned so hot it looked like the whole sky was catching fire."
She tilted her head. "So… those two really gave you trouble, huh?"
Vanki huffed loudly, wiping fresh blood from the corner of his jaw with the back of a fist.
"Wasn't fighting seriously anyway," he retorted, pride stung yet certain. "Had I gone all‑out from the start, this fight would've ended minutes ago. Just as I readied the killing blow against that stone giant—suddenly that boy fell straight from the sky and changed everything."
He glanced around at the smoking wreckage, the crater torn open, debris strewn where the Forge once stood, and shook his head slowly.
"Doesn't matter now anyway. Nothing left worth doing here. Structure's total ruin, slaves and locals long fled, no stores or outposts left to defend. All I can do is go back and file a full report directly to Lord Tsukumo."
"He's going to hate hearing this," Katarina chuckled low, already picturing their lord's reaction. "Absolutely hate it."
Vanki didn't answer at first. He simply turned his back, broad shoulders still square and imposing even battered, and began walking toward shadows stretching across the horizon. Before vanishing completely into gloom, he raised one hand and spoke, heavy with warning and absolute certainty.
"About your offer, boy… Lord Tsukumo's answer will reach you soon—and mark my words, it won't carry mercy."
In the same breath, a double laugh rang out in perfect sync—one deep, rough, booming from Vanki; the other lighter, sharper, cunning, from Katarina. The sound rolled across the crater, making dust and rubble tremble.
Then, wrapped in dark mist and sparks of purple and orange energy weaving together, they faded away completely. Silence returned, thick with smoke and burnt air, leaving only one truth behind—the real war had barely begun.
I let out a long breath, pushing every last bit of air from my lungs along with tension still throbbing tight in my shoulders. The bright white markings across my skin had faded almost away, faint glowing embers dying out under my skin.
For a second there I thought we'd be fighting both at once, I admitted aloud, staring at where they vanished, purple‑orange mist drifting slow above the ruin.
Arthur turned toward me slowly, green eyes tracing every inch—from my face to clenched fists—reading hidden fatigue and how hard I kept it together. His gray stone skin bore no scars at all; regeneration had done its work again.
"You think you would've lost?" he asked, voice calm, no mockery—only steady curiosity from one who knew the true weight of combat.
My spirits surged instantly like flame catching wind, tiredness swept aside by sheer stubbornness. I answered fast, words cutting sharp through still air.
"No—no way!" I paused, breathing smoke, ash, and melted iron, and spoke quieter, honest and unshaken. But it's true… the aura from those two monsters is terrifying. Standing together, it feels as if the ground itself grows heavier just from their presence.
Arthur closed his eyes, jaw set firm, and without taking a single step lifted straight upward. Shards of slag and loose dust swirled gently around him, pulled along by unseen force. He hovered half a meter above debris, posture upright and ready to move.
"Let's go," he said, scanning the scarred plains spreading out ahead. "We must finish sheltering the villagers before night falls deep or another patrol finds us."
I looked back at the destruction—crater gaping, beams twisted, stone charred black—everything left behind of the fallen Forge. I saw deep scars Vanki had ripped open in earth, lingering traces of his burnt power, and felt a new resolve harden inside my chest.
I turned fully toward Arthur, voice ringing clear and decided.
"Arthur… once we make sure everyone's safe and settled… we destroy the next Forge."
He said nothing back, only tipped his head once in confirmation, and caught pace in the air.
I shot forward, wind‑fast toward where I knew Laura waited with survivors, white stripes blazing bright again along arms to drive me faster. Arthur followed close behind, hovering steady, giant shadow matching mine stride for stride. We left the ruin behind—knowing our war against Tsukumo had only shifted phase.
We flew flat‑out, skimming low beneath heavy clouds dragging cold shadows over dead plains. Wind whipped my cheeks but I kept eyes scanning ground non‑stop, until a warm orange glow cut through endless gray: a campfire burning deep inside a cluster of massive, jagged boulders. Around it moved small shapes—women, children, men wrapped in rags, huddled together like cold birds seeking heat.
I signaled Arthur with a quick hand motion and dipped low. We sliced air like twin arrows, speed compressing atmosphere all around us, diving straight and true for shelter below.
Landing, I took in what Laura had built. She had stacked huge rocks carefully in a tall closed circle, high enough to block freezing wind howling between hills. Beyond keeping the space warm, the natural wall hid the light completely—no patrol or sentry loyal to Tsukumo could spot fire from far away, tucked safe inside that hollow rock bowl.
We touched down atop the largest boulder, feet firm on rough stone, watching everyone settle for a moment. Then I heard fast steps rushing from behind Arthur's towering silhouette—heavy yet hurried, careless of stealth.
I twisted round quick just in time. Laura slammed straight into him—not a blow, but a tackle hug, arms locking tight as if terrified he might dissolve away forever. The giant nearly swayed under impact, caught off guard.
"I know we've had our differences, you big idiot," she said, voice thick with tears caught half‑way between anger and relief, "but you're still like a brother to me. So… don't you ever pull stupid stunts like that again."
I smiled soft, closed‑mouthed, only corners lifting. I knew—they shared far longer history than I did: years fighting side‑by‑side, fleeing capture, training together, memories I had barely started learning. Her scolding wasn't rage, just raw, uncovered worry.
Arthur gave no reply straight away. Stood motionless a heartbeat, then raised a broad hard hand and patted slow along her arms, breathing deep enough to stir dust and ash dancing around us. Short gesture, yet it said everything needed.
I hopped down and joined them, exhaustion finally dragging heavy on shoulders.
"How is everyone doing, Laura?" I asked, glancing toward villagers clustering close around flame.
"Scared out of their minds when they first ran here," she answered, stepping slowly away from Arthur and wiping grime and moisture from cheeks with a sleeve. "Ran non‑stop all the way. But now—wind blocked, fire going—they've calmed down some. Found enough dry wood to keep them warm and let everyone sleep tonight in peace."
Memories rushed in fast—clashing Vanki, Katarina tearing my vacuum dome apart, the speech I delivered, the threat left hanging heavy in air.
"I told Arthur—soon as we confirm every soul safe, we march to hit the next Forge," I began, steady, refusing weariness to weaken words. "I brought Tsukumo terms—mercy, peace… but I hold zero doubt. He will turn it flat down."
He never learned to accept anything but submission.
I lifted chin, meeting Laura then Arthur eye‑to‑eye, determination burning bright as live coals.
"So next time… we stop holding back entirely. Show the whole Empire and him—we aren't just small fugitives running and hiding. We are a true threat."