Azalor’s expression twisted with irritation. He raised a hand, his fingers curling like a claw.

  "You are becoming a nuisance, you fool."

  Qaws pushed himself backward, leaping through the air to gain distance, but his retreat was cut short.

  A sudden, crushing pull—an invisible gravity well—dragged his body back. In an instant, Azalor seized him by the throat, lifting the assassin effortlessly, as if he weighed less than a feather.

  Across the battlefield, Velins

  He sprinted toward Azalor, leaping high—but Loran’s arrows streaked toward him in a rapid, shadowed volley.

  Velins didn't dodge. He raised his armored forearms, smashing the arrows mid-flight, splintering the magic into harmless black sparks.

  Loran’s eyes widened behind his mask. "Impossible..."

  He lunged at Velins with his blade, and the two collided in a violent exchange of steel and violet aura.

  Velins snarled, pushing the archer back. "Get out of my face, you irritating insect."

  Loran’s grin sharpened. "Interesting... You're stronger than you look."

  Azalor, still choking Qaws, flicked his eyes toward Velins. For the first time, a flicker of genuine surprise crossed his face.

  "One of Fontaine’s

  Qaws, dangling in the air, managed a bloody, defiant smile.

  He twisted his arm, driving his dagger toward Azalor’s chest.

  Azalor didn't even blink. He shifted his torso an inch, letting the dagger slash empty air, then unleashed a point-blank Violet Thunderbolt

  The blast hurled Qaws across the battlefield like a ragdoll. He crashed into the frozen ground with a sickening thud, blood spraying across the white snow.

  The air shimmered above him. Valon materialized, his scythe raised high, the blade humming with the screams of stolen souls.

  Velins saw it. "Damn it!"

  He swung a brutal punch at Loran to break free, cracking the stone beneath them, but he was too far away.

  Qaws opened his eyes. The scythe was falling.

  A beam of condensed magic shot from the eastern ridge, striking Valon in the shoulder. The reaper hissed, forced to leap back into the shadows to avoid being sniped.

  Falcon, locked in combat with Reiz, smirked.

  "Aseel

  Above them all, the sky went dark. The meteor was now so close the heat was melting the snow on the ground.

  Azalor raised his hand toward the heavens.

  The meteor froze.

  Millions of tons of burning rock halted mid-descent, held in place by Azalor's terrifying mana. The silence that followed was louder than the war.

  "Give me the Pearl

  Falcon kicked Reiz back, creating space. He stood tall, the ocean waves swirling around his legs.

  He laughed. It was a cold, fearless sound.

  "Do you think we fear death?" Falcon roared. "Show us everything you have! We do not tremble before a falling rock, you delusional sorcerer!"

  Azalor’s expression darkened. "Then burn."

  Pirates fired spells and bullets at him, but Azalor walked forward, swatting their attacks aside with lazy gestures. Dark beams erupted from his fingertips, tearing through the resistance.

  Falcon tried to intercept, but Reiz was there again.

  "Look at me, old man!" Reiz screamed. "Lucifer’s Surge!

  Reiz’s body dissolved into grey mist, reappearing instantly in front of Falcon.

  Falcon met the strike with a sweeping wave of blue force, but Reiz didn't stop. He rose from the blow, grey flames swirling around him, smiling like a man possessed.

  The meteor began to fall again.

  Qaws staggered to his feet, his boots slipping in the bloody slush.

  "Damn it..." He coughed, spitting red. "I lost control. I didn't see his movements... that technique... that was his wind. I'm such a fool."

  He looked down at the gaping wound in his chest. His clothes were soaked, heavy with his own life force. Yet, he forced his spine straight. He lifted his gaze toward the sky, where the Green Comet glowed faintly behind the smoke of the falling meteor.

  A weak, bloody smile crossed his face.

  "Not now... I still have too much to do."

  A distant roar echoed across the turbulent sea.

  A pirate on the shoreline pointed and shouted, "A strange ship is approaching!"

  Falcon

  Qaws turned, squinting through the ash. His eyes widened.

  Through the mist, a ship cut the waves like a knife. The sails were battered, but the emblem on the main flag was unmistakable.

  The Green Comet.

  Qaws laughed, a wet, rattling sound. "Finally..."

  Velins, in the midst of battle with Loran, said, "So these are the allies Qaws spoke of?"

  Azalor froze. He looked at the ship, sensing the aura radiating from it. His face twisted in genuine shock.

  "Impossible..." Azalor whispered. "Is that... the Child?!"

  Loran, still recovering from Velins’s punch, snarled. "More rats?"

  He drew his bow, channeling all his remaining mana. A massive, corrupted arrow—wrapped in shadow and purple lightning—screamed toward the approaching ship.

  Before the arrow could strike, the ocean erupted. A colossal wall of water rose from the depths—likely the work of the diver, Nawal

  Loran blinked, lowering his bow. "What...?"

  Qaws cupped his hands around his mouth. "Falcon! They're allies!"

  Falcon grinned, his blue aura flaring up again. "Good! Let's hope they're more useful than you!"

  Qaws, barely able to breathe: shut up, Oldman!

  The morale shift was instant. The pirates fought desperately, cursing with renewed vigor as they clashed with Luther's sailors.

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  Mehran rose from the rubble. He was barely standing, blood streaming down his armor, but his eyes were focused. He spotted Loran distracted by the ship.

  He didn't hesitate. He leapt high into the air, muscles screaming, and hurled his spear with the force of a ballista.

  Loran sensed it. He started to dodge to the left—

  But Velins was already there.

  The brawler appeared behind the archer like a ghost.

  "Going somewhere?"

  Loran eyes widened.

  Velins grabbed Loran mid-air by the collar and belt, spun him around, and hurled him into the path of the spear.

  The sound was sickeningly wet. The spear pierced Loran’s chest, the momentum pinning him to the frozen ground. The Shadow Archer gasped, clutching the shaft of wood now sticking out of his ribs.

  Azalor’s

  Valon hissed. He raised his scythe high, the blade glowing with necrotic light. He slammed the hilt into the ground, releasing a wave of screaming, translucent souls.

  The wave tore through the battlefield. Pirates caught in its path didn't just die; they withered, dropping one after another as their life force was ripped away.

  Meanwhile, deep within the city...

  In a dark, sealed chamber beneath the rubble, Wasim opened his eyes.

  There was no white, no iris. His pupils were gone. His eyes glowed a haunting, solid Violet

  He rose slowly, his movements stiff, like a puppet on strings. Around him, whispering spirits swirled in the dark air, beckoning him.

  Guided by the voices, Wasim began to walk toward the battlefield.

  THE FALL OF THERA — WHEN THE SKY SPLIT OPEN

  FalconReiz

  Reiz’s eyes widened when he noticed the blood. It wasn't concern; it was a sharp, sudden irritation. Falcon's refusal to fall was beginning to unsettle him.

  "You stubborn old man!" Reiz snapped, though the tremor in his voice betrayed his unease.

  Snow fell in thick, unnatural sheets, mixing with the ash. LainasLutherAseelEthra exchanged fierce blows on the eastern ridge, their magic lighting up the gloom.

  Above them all, the Green Comet

  From within the drifting smoke, Valon smiled beneath his hood—a quiet, predatory curve of the lips.

  Azalor

  "Only because I owe you, Azalor," Valon murmured, his voice like dry leaves. "I will lend my hand this time."

  He raised his scythe.

  A strange grey aura spread across the island. A thick, unnatural fog rolled between the pirates and their enemies, swallowing the battlefield in a ghostly haze. It dampened sound and hid movements. The war became a game of shadows.

  Inside the fog, Falcon and Reiz were just flickering silhouettes.

  Reiz hurled streaks of grey fire from his jeweled blade, each one cutting through the mist with lethal precision. Falcon countered with sudden, sweeping strikes, a dark blue aura erupting from his sword to collide with the flames.

  Azalor watched from afar, standing calmly amid the chaos. He didn't lift a finger.

  "Reiz..." Azalor whispered, almost bored. "He is losing control. That child must hurry, or he will burn himself out."

  Reiz leapt high into the air, vanishing into the grey clouds.

  "Lucifer's Wrath!"

  He roared, descending like a falling star. His blade erupted in grey fire, and the sea responded instantly—waves twisted and recoiled as if the ocean itself was afraid of him.

  "I'll bury you and your pathetic island beneath the sea!"

  Falcon planted his feet. He raised his sword.

  They collided. The explosion rippled across the battlefield, shaking the ground and blowing a hole in the fog for a split second.

  The pirates stared in awe.

  "The Captain is fighting! Don't let him stand alone! FORWARD!"

  Mehran vaulted upward again, spear in hand, aiming for the Reaper.

  But Valon wasn't there. He vanished into the fog, reappearing instantly behind Mehran with silent steps.

  Mehran barely ducked the sweeping arc of the scythe. The blade passed inches from his neck, whistling with a sound like screaming souls.

  Valon’s laughter echoed from everywhere at once. "One strike from this, boy... and you will vanish without a trace. Not even a ghost will remain."

  Mehran steadied his stance, sweat mixing with blood on his brow. The fog swirled around them, hiding the Reaper again.

  Velins appeared before Azalor in a blur, driving a powerful punch toward the mage’s face.

  Azalor blocked it effortlessly with one hand. He didn't even spill his mana.

  Velins stepped back, raising his guard.

  "That cloak..." Azalor murmured, looking at Velins’s attire. "FontaineLiam

  Velins froze. Shock flashed across his face, cracking his composure.

  "Liam? You wretch—where is he? What did you do to him?!"

  Azalor chuckled softly. "Me? I did nothing. Ask the man with the scythe. He will tell you what became of your poor friend."

  Velins roared, lunging with renewed fury.

  Azalor met the strike with a surge of grey aura, pushing him back with ease.

  "I watched you fight centuries ago," Azalor said calmly, dusting off his sleeve. "Your technique... it requires absorbing an attack before returning it with greater force. Correct?"

  Velins tensed. His secret was out.

  Azalor smiled—a cruel, intelligent smile.

  "So tell me, student of Fontaine... what will you do if I simply refuse to attack you at all?"

  Azalor raised his hand. A squad of elite Black Order Soldiers advanced from the fog.

  "No magic," Azalor commanded. "Use only your blades and your fists. Break him slowly."

  Azalor vanished from his perch, reappearing instantly in the blind spot between the duelists.

  ReizFalcon’s guard. Grey flames licked at the old man’s arms, singing the skin.

  "Surrender, old man!" Reiz screamed, his face twisted in desperation.

  Falcon’s skin burned, but his feet were rooted to the stone. Above them, the clouds parted briefly. A dark blue star—Eklat—shone through the storm, its cold light piercing the snow.

  Falcon didn't yield. He shifted his weight, letting Reiz overextend.

  Falcon seized Reiz by the back of the neck and drove a devastating punch into his abdomen. The fist was wrapped in a deep blue aura, heavy as the ocean floor.

  Reiz crashed to the ground, coughing darkened blood. The grey flames around him flickered and died.

  Falcon advanced, his sword raised for the finishing strike.

  Reiz forced himself upright, his eyes wild. "Damn you!"

  He vanished, reappearing fifty feet in the air.

  "Lucifer Fury!"

  He dove downward with blinding speed, a living comet of grey fire. Falcon blocked, sliding backward across the ice from the sheer impact.

  Azalor smiled. He saw the opening.

  He unleashed a silent Violet Bolt toward Falcon's exposed back.

  The strike tore into Falcon's shoulder, burning through muscle. Falcon hissed, staggering forward. His guard dropped for a fraction of a second.

  "Damn..." Falcon gritted out, blood running down his arm. "I dropped my guard."

  Qaws tried to rush forward to help his captain, but a shadow streaked past his ear.

  He was forced to dodge, rolling across the snow.

  Loran

  "Leaving so soon?" Loran rasped. "We haven't finished our performance. Did you think such weak attacks would kill me?"

  Qaws glared coldly, knives ready. "You are... insufferable."

  "Insufferable?" Loran laughed, drawing his bow. "Let me show you what that word truly means."

  He fired another arrow, grazing Qaws's cheek.

  Before Loran could fire again, the world shook.

  A thunderous explosion erupted from the sea behind the fleet. Luther's ironclad ships were lifted out of the water like toys.

  A massive shape rose beneath them—a mountain of flesh and barnacles. Valina

  Mehran

  Falcon turned his head, clutching his wounded shoulder, watching the sea churn white.

  "So..." he whispered, a grim smile touching his lips. "You've arrived."

  Reiz glanced at Azalor, panting heavily. "What now? The fleet is compromised."

  Azalor’s voice was calm, almost soothing. "Do not worry. Let the beast play."

  Falcon didn't wait. He raised his sword high, ignoring the pain in his shoulder.

  "MEN! Victory is not impossible! Show these invaders who we are!"

  The pirates roared. It wasn't a clean sound—it was the sound of desperate men finding their second wind. Some limped, some carried wounded comrades, but they charged.

  VelinsNo magic. They refuse to use magic.

  He struck the ground with a burst of air, but the soldiers dodged, pressing him with synchronized physical attacks. He couldn't absorb kinetic energy. He was losing ground.

  Then, he saw them.

  Luther’s Riflemen on the ridge, aiming their enchanted muskets at the charging pirates.

  Velins grinned.

  "Exactly what I needed."

  He vanished.

  He reappeared directly in the line of fire. The riflemen panicked and fired—blue beams of concentrated mana slammed into him.

  Velins didn't block. He opened his arms. The lavender aura around him drank the energy like water. His veins glowed bright purple.

  "Thanks for the reload," Velins whispered.

  He slammed his palms together.

  A massive shockwave of lavender energy exploded outward, sending Luther’s soldiers flying like ragdolls.

  The sea trembled in response. Waves surged toward the island in towering walls of water, guided by the whale. The tide had officially turned.