The battlefield no longer sounded like war.
It breathed.
Broken earth exhaled dust into the air, drifting between shattered stone and fallen steel. The cries of battle had quieted into distant echoes, swallowed by the weight of something far more dangerous—
Focus.
At the center of it all stood two figures.
Renn Valehart and Noir.
"Greetings, Renn Valehart.... I am Noir"
Noir stepped forward first. Not rushed. Not cautious. Certain. His cloak swayed gently behind him, black and gold catching what little light remained in the ruined village.
"…It doesn't matter," he said, his voice soft—almost disinterested. "I will take your head regardless."
Renn did not answer immediately. The golden daggers rested low at his sides, his breathing steady, his eyes fixed.
"…Try me."
"Veil Art: Shadow Step."
The wind shifted. And Noir disappeared. There was no blur. No transition. He simply ceased to exist.
Renn's pupils tightened. Golden Aether spread outward from his body—not explosively, not wildly—but thin, controlled, like a silent ripple searching through the air.
The world slowed.
He listened. Not with his ears— but with his Aether. Nothing. Then—
It struck.
A tendril burst from the ground behind him. Another from the side. Another from above. They came like spears of shadow—silent, precise, and impossibly fast.
Renn moved.
His body reacted before thought could catch up. A dagger deflected one. His shoulder twisted, barely avoiding another. A third scraped across his side, tearing fabric and drawing blood.
"…What's the matter? Is that the best you can do.? " Noir's voice echoed, distant and directionless.
Another strike.
Renn blocked.
Another—
He shifted.
"…Try to keep up, Renn…" A tendril pierced forward— It slipped through. A sharp, clean impact.
Renn's shoulder was struck. He quickly grabbed it. His fingers tightened around the writhing shadow.
Golden Aether surged—not outward, but inward—flowing through the tendril like a current forcing its way upstream.
He didn't pull. He followed the tendrils direction. The connection.
"…Found you."
"Aether Art: Zero Step."
The ground beneath him cracked. And Renn vanished. The air tore behind him as he reappeared— Directly behind Noir.
For the first time— Noir reacted. His head turned, eyes widening just slightly.
Too late.
Renn's blade came down. But the shadows moved faster. Tendrils surged upward, intercepting the strike, coiling around his arm. The world flipped.
Renn was slammed into the ground.
Taren's eyes widened, his grip tightening around his weapon as Renn's body hit the ground with brutal force.
Stone exploded beneath his back, dust erupting outward in a violent shockwave. Noir landed lightly, as if untouched by the chaos he created.
"…Are we supposed to just stand there, and not helping?" he muttered, the tension in his voice barely contained.
Kael didn't move. Lio remained still. A brief silence passed between them. Then— memory surfaced. Renn's voice cutting through air while riding the horse.
"You can have all the Mist Wraiths…" Renn's eyes are dead serious. "The Eclipsed is mine."
Seris didn't even look concerned. Her gaze remained fixed on the battlefield. On Renn.
"…He's fine."
He turned.
Slowly, Renn stands up. Blood ran from his shoulder, but his grip did not falter.
They moved again. This time— together.
The distance vanished in an instant. Blades met tendrils. Golden light clashed against shifting shadow. The exchange was no longer visible as movement—but as distortion.
Air warped. Sound cracked. Each step tore into the ground beneath them.
Renn's attacks grew sharper. More precise. He was no longer reacting. He was reading. A tendril came, he cut it. Another— Severed. Another— Gone.
Noir narrowed his eyes. "…You're persistent."
Renn said nothing. A dagger left his hand. Spinning. Straight toward Noir's chest. Noir tilted his head slightly. Dodged with ease. "…How amusing."
But the dagger was never meant to hit. Renn was already there. His body had closed the gap in the same instant.
His fist—
Already drawn back. Already loaded. Every drop of Aether in his body surged into that single point.
Compressed.
Condensed.
"100% - Right Fist."
The impact didn't sound like a strike.
It sounded like something breaking reality itself.
The air imploded.
Noir's body was launched across the field, tearing through stone and debris before crashing into the ruins beyond.
Silence followed.
Renn exhaled once. Low and controlled. His daggers reformed in his hands.
Across the field— Noir rose slowly. Blood dripped from his lips. He touched it. Looked at it. Then smiled.
"…I see."
The air grew heavier. Darker. His Aether expanded—not outward, but everywhere at once.
"Veil Art: Ultimate Skill — Thousand Shadows Parade."
The battlefield fractured. One Noir became two. Two became ten. Ten— Hundreds. Then— Thousands. Every direction. Every angle. Every possibility.
Renn stood alone at the center. He closed his eyes for a moment. Then opened them. Golden light tightened around him. Not expanding. Not exploding. Condensing.
"Aether Art: Ultimate Skill - Aether Overdrive."
But this time— It did not rage. It focused. His entire body became a single point of controlled force.
"…I only have five minutes. I'll end this quick."
Then— He moved. The first shadow fell.
Then another. Then another one fell. Each strike erased them. Clean. Efficient. But they kept coming. Endless.
"…Three minutes."
Renn's breathing remained steady. He stepped forward. Again. And again. Closer. Through the storm. The real one.
Noir watched from within the swarm. "…Let's end this once and for all, Renn Valehart."
All shadows surged inward at once. A collapsing wall of darkness. Renn disappeared within it. For a moment— nothing. Then— a blinding golden light shone. It erupted outward, tearing through the shadows like the sun breaking through a storm.
Renn burst forward from the explosion. Already mid-strike. His dagger aimed straight for Noir's heart.
CLANG.
A kunai intercepted it. Noir stood there. Barely.
Their eyes locked.
Renn didn't stop. His body twisted. His fist surged again, but now, he amplified the power from 100% times ten as overdrive's physical buff, making it 1000% power.
"Overdrive—Full Force."
The strike landed.
Noir's face shattered under the impact. His body was thrown violently across the battlefield. Everything stopped.
Renn stood.
The golden light faded slowly.
"…Time's up."
His body lowered slightly. Breath heavier now. Aether thinning..
Across the ruins— Noir was unconscious. Broken. Then— something changed.
The air bent.
Behind Noir, a dark portal opened. The battlefield reacted. Not with sound, but with pressure.
Everyone felt it. Their bodies tightened and frozed. The pressure intensified as if their lungs are crushed.
Seris froze.
Her eyes widened, not in shock. But recognition.
"…No…"
A figure stepped through. Slow, calm. The same cloak. But the presence was entirely different. It didn't feel like power. It felt like inevitability.
He looked at Noir. Then— at Seris.
Their eyes met. And in that instant, Seris broke. Fear. Real and unhidden.
The man said nothing. He simply bent down, lifted Noir as if his broken body weighed nothing.
Then turned.
And stepped back into the portal. It closed. Silence returned. But something remained.
Heavy.
Unspoken.
Seris stood unmoving. Her hands trembling. As if what she saw, was not an enemy. But something far worse.
Behind her, a dull sound broke the stillness. A body giving in.
Renn staggered once—
His vision blurring, the golden glow that once surrounded him now flickering like a dying flame. The strain of Overdrive—compressed, forced, sustained beyond its limit—finally took its toll.
His knees gave out
He dropped to the ground. The daggers slipped from his grasp, clattering softly against the cracked stone.
"…Renn!"
Taren's voice cut through the silence as he rushed forward. Lio followed close behind, already assessing, eyes sharp despite the exhaustion etched across his face. Kael clicked his tongue, but his pace quickened.
Renn lay on the ground, unconscious. His chest rising faintly. Aether completely drained.
Seris stepped forward at last.
Not hurried. Not panicked. But different. Her trembling had stopped. And in its place was something colder. Sharper. More certain.
The past had returned.
And this time—
She wasn't going to run.