The collision between Tayo and Damascus was brutal. The sheer force of their impact hurled both combatants skyward, shattering a section of the Godfall judicial plaza in a storm of marble dust and splintered stone. Chunks of ancient columns rained down as the two figures arced through the air, locked in a savage tangle.
"Hey, kids! Take it easy on the collateral damage!" Captain Rosewalt bellowed, his voice cutting through the chaos as he watched them soar.
High above the plaza, Midnight leaned against a cracked balustrade, his dark eyes narrowing with interest. *So that's the boy Damascus wouldn't shut up about,* he thought, gaze fixed on Tayo. *How… interesting.*
Tayo was grinning—a wild, almost feral expression—as his forehead smashed into Damascus's skull with a sickening crack. For the first time in his young life, he felt the raw thrill of inflicting pain, a dark current surging through his veins like fire.
"Hey, old man," Tayo called down to Rosewalt, his eyes locked on the smoking crater where Damascus had crashed into a nearby building. "Leave that grumpy bastard to me. We've still got a lot to talk about."
Rosewalt raised an eyebrow. "And just how do you plan to 'talk' to him? Because right now, it doesn't look like words are on the menu."
"Words?" Tayo laughed, a sharp, reckless sound. "That's too lenient. The only language he and I understand is fists."
Without another word, Tayo strode forward, disappearing into the thick plume of smoke rising from the ruined structure.
Rosewalt's gaze shifted to Bachi, who stood a short distance away, fists clenched, crimson eyes burning brighter than ever.
"And you," Rosewalt said, voice low.
"I have a father I need to protect," Bachi replied, his tone unyielding. "No matter what. So leave that one to me."
Rosewalt exhaled a heavy sigh, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "I can't believe I'm letting children onto this battlefield. But then again…" His eyes flicked between the two boys. "Both of you have monsters inside."
He straightened, turning his attention back to the two remaining figures on the balcony: Midnight and the hulking Khatontak.
"So it's back to two against one," Rosewalt said, cracking his knuckles. "Makes my job easy enough."
Midnight smirked, his voice dripping with cocky amusement. "I think old age might be clouding your vision, Captain. Or have you forgotten my army?"
Rosewalt's expression darkened. "What army?"
Midnight's smirk faltered. Slowly, he and Khatontak turned to look behind them.
The vast field that had moments ago teemed with five hundred elite soldiers was now utterly empty—nothing but trampled grass and the faint metallic scent of blood on the wind.
Midnight stared for a long moment, then threw his head back and laughed. The sound was hollow, edged with madness.
"So you haven't changed, Rosewalt," he said, still chuckling. "Still a demon through and through. You cut down five hundred of my men without me even noticing. You really are something else."
He gestured dismissively. "No matter. Khatontak and I will be more than enough."
"Why don't you check again?" Rosewalt's voice was quiet, almost gentle—but laced with unmistakable menace.
Midnight's laughter died. He turned just in time to see Khatontak's massive body sway, then collapse. Blood poured from a precise, invisible wound, soaking the stone beneath him. The giant was dead before he hit the ground.
"Never turn your back on me," Rosewalt said softly. "The moment you did, I won. You're only still breathing because I like to play with my prey."
Midnight's composure shattered. His legs buckled, and he dropped to his knees, a raw, guttural scream tearing from his throat. The once-calm, patient, calculating leader was gone—replaced by a man consumed by frustration and disbelief.
After a long moment, he drew in a deep, shuddering breath and forced himself back to his feet.
"If only the higher-ups hadn't ordered us to move tonight," he murmured, voice trembling slightly. "None of this would have happened. But such is life—the strong devour the weak. A sad fate I find myself in."
He met Rosewalt's gaze, something almost wistful in his eyes.
"You know, Rosewalt, I've always been a fan of yours. Ever since I was a kid. Out of everyone in your old party, I looked up to you the most." He gave a faint, bitter smile. "No matter how tonight ends, I won't be satisfied. I don't want to lose you… and I don't want to die. But that's adulthood, isn't it? Making impossible choices."
Rosewalt regarded him in silence for a moment, then nodded once.
"I see." His voice was steady, but a trace of gentleness softened its edges. "Then let's give everything we have. Let this final clash be our last."
Far below, amid the settling dust and distant echoes of destruction, the plaza held its breath—waiting for the end of legends.