CHAPTER 58: THE FALL OF HAGAN

The room was silent. The damp stone walls barely reflected the pale glow of the translucent fragment spinning between Eren’s fingers. He stared at it as one might stare at an old wound. The surface of the crystal seemed to breathe—to pulse—emitting a bluish luminescence that cast elongated shadows on the Tamer’s impassive features.

He said nothing. He just took a few steps away from the group, who were preparing their weapons, their claws, their spells. The great battle was approaching. But first, Eren wanted to understand. He needed to comprehend.

He pressed the Whispering Memory Fragment against his forehead.

[Item Activated: Whispering Memory Fragment]

[Access granted to: Ancient Tamer’s Psychic Record – Code Name "Orun"]

The world around him faded.

Veins of light and sound intertwined like snakes. A clearing took shape. In the center of it, a thin figure with deep-set eyes and hair as white as wax spoke urgently, as if knowing that each word was an offering against oblivion.

"If you are hearing this... then the cycle still lives. There are still tamers hunted for blasphemy. There are still orders dressed in justice that chain bonds and emotions in the name of fear. Remember this: fanatics do not fight monsters—they fight freedom."

Eren did not blink. His heart beat softly, like a war drum buried under layers of ice.

Orun’s image wavered, but his voice was sharp.

"One day, one of them will wear faith as armor, but will not listen to the gods. He will say that the soul is impure, but he will be empty inside. He will not tame monsters — he will try to tame the universe itself. He will twist codes, subvert bonds. He is the rupture."

The name echoed in Eren’s mind like bottled thunder. The man who had guided them there. The man who was now the true high priest of the Order of the Burning Eye.

"You, who hear me now... are an anomaly. And that is not a curse. The universe tries to protect itself, but it also... tries to reinvent itself. You are the fork in the road. And if you’ve made it this far, then know this—the symmetry of the bond is not a flaw. It is a choice. A weapon. A path."

The memory fragmented into lights, words, and distorted whispers. But one last sentence remained, like a living tattoo on Eren’s mind:

"Make them feel what they deny. Give shape to the truth they refuse. Master the very idea of taming."

[Memory Completed]

[New Condition Unlocked: "Systemic Anomaly"]

[Active Bonus: Psychic Resistance +20% | Affinity Item Efficiency Increase +25%]

[Historical Record Updated]

He opened his eyes.

The world returned. It was cold. The temple breathed dust. Outside, the echo of armor and distorted prayers heralded the beginning of the conflict.

Kaela sharpened her claws with a piece of stone.

Nyssa rested in a corner, curled up like a pillow of living melancholy.

Morwynn hung from the ceiling like a black veil sculpted by an insane artist.

Sylha floated above a broken altar, counting the minutes as if sewing time.

Eren clenched the fragment in his fist and walked to the center of the room.

"Let’s end this."

They all stared at him. And they all knew: the silence before the war was over.

With the fragment still active in his mind, Eren adjusted the Runic Belt of Bond around his waist. He felt the heat of the connections flowing through him like veins of gentle magma. The aura around his monsters rippled—tenuous, subtle—but enough for each of them to look up instinctively.

It was as if a new heartbeat had emerged between them.

"It’s clearer," whispered Nyssa.

Morwynn tilted her head, her feline eyes fixed on him. "You did something. Something profound. It’s reverberating even in the webs."

Kaela narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "You’ve tampered with ancient magic, Eren. What kind of thing was that?"

He responded only with a look.

Outside, the chants of the paladins grew louder. The arcane seals of the Order of the Burning Eye danced on the walls, summoning divine judgment. The entire city trembled—not with fear, but with fervor. Fanaticism was a flame difficult to extinguish.

But Eren had no intention of extinguishing it.

He was going to drown it.

And for the first time, he smiled. Not out of arrogance. Not out of pleasure.

But because now he understood.

He was the monster the system needed.

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

Barovik was alive.

Not in the way that a heart beats or lungs breathe—but like a body taken over by a parasite. The city lay dying beneath plates of sacred metal, banners of the Order of the Burning Eye, and slivers of purified energy, all forcing a false light onto the ruins.

Eren Vale’s group watched the heart of the city from a rocky elevation, partially covered by dry vegetation and charred roots. In the distance, the silhouette of the central temple glowed under golden runes that vibrated like watchful beacons. Knights circled through the corridors of distorted faith. Marked citizens knelt in the squares, as if praying not to exist.

Eren descended first, silent, his eyes fixed on a point on the horizon that only he could see.

"We’re here," he muttered, more to himself than to the group.

The system reacted immediately:

[Zone: Desecrated Barovik]

[High Spiritual Hostility]

[Divine Interference in progress]

[+15% Mental Resistance applied to all linked creatures]

[+10% Affinity Efficiency during ritualistic combat]

Kaela clenched her fists, her claws clinking. Nyssa shuddered, absorbing the invisible pressure of the place. Morwynn remained motionless, feeling the magical threads like a spider feels its web vibrate. Sylha spun in the air like an out-of-sync whisper.

Eren stopped in front of them and snapped his fingers. The sharp sound cut through the dense air of the city.

"Positioning," he said, without raising his voice.

It wasn’t an order. It was a summons.

"Kaela, east wing. Shock attack. Tear up the ground, break formation. If it looks important, destroy it. If it’s sacred, desecrate it."

The werewolf smiled, baring her fangs.

"I thought you’d never let me go."

"Nyssa," he continued, turning his eyes to the slime, who approached timidly, "defense routes. You keep the field safe. You will be the shield, the foundation. If anyone falls, you are the one who picks them up."

Nyssa nodded slowly, her eyes flickering between fear and loyalty. Part of her body slid onto the ground, forming small copies of herself, ready to act as distractions or buffers.

"Morwynn. Internal sabotage. The runes here are part of a living network. Cut the flows, unbalance the seals, disarm the altar. You know the rhythm of the city—make it stumble."

The spider arched its front legs and whispered, almost satisfied:

"A heart beating out of rhythm. Delicious."

"Sylha, bluff and manipulation. You will dance between the patrols and the acolytes. Make them see what you want them to see. Apparitions, false alarms, commanding voices. Chaos must appear to be divine punishment." Breaking faith is more effective than breaking bones.

"Oh, my favorite role," sang the ghost, spinning in the air with her arms outstretched. "Heavenly theater!"

Eren looked at each of them, one by one, with meticulous coldness. They didn’t need affection now. They needed direction.

"I’ll go in through the underground. Total infiltration. The altar is in the core. Malrik and Hagan will be there. They know I’m coming, but they don’t know how. Their mistake will be to trust their own light.

Without saying another word, Eren reached for his belt and pulled out a translucent object, woven as if made of glass threads and enchanted silk: the Translucent Web Mask.

[Equipped Item: Translucent Web Mask]

[Active Effect: Invisibility to magic detection mechanisms for 5 minutes]

[Remaining Uses: 2 per day]

He placed the mask over his face. It molded itself, sliding like a liquid veil that disappeared as it touched his skin. When the last line dissolved, Eren simply disappeared from mystical perception.

The monsters stared at the empty space where he had been a second ago.

"Ready," Eren’s voice murmured in their minds through the bond. "Begin."

And so, as if each were a sharp fragment of an invisible spear, the group dispersed.

Kaela descended through the destroyed houses of the eastern sector, her feet striking the ground with deliberate cadence. She wanted to be seen. The first soldiers of the Order intercepted her before she had taken ten steps into the open territory.

One of them raised his spear.

"Identify yourself! In the name of—"

He didn’t finish.

The impact was sharp, like stone being crushed by thunder. Kaela rammed the acolyte’s body with her shoulder, spun with a kick, and split another’s helmet in half. When the third tried to retreat, she grabbed him by the neck and threw him against a sacred wall, cracking the symbol engraved there.

"Sorry. Your faith has slipped," she growled, advancing.

Nyssa dove into the trenches between collapsed buildings. She split herself into small portions that sealed entrances, neutralized traps, and created living barriers. Each time a magical explosion occurred, one of her copies absorbed the impact and reformed her body.

With each attempt by the Order to break through, the slime grew denser and more compact, controlling the field like an organic wall.

Morwynn crawled along the inner walls of the auxiliary temple. She was not seen, but felt. The priests trembled as they watched their runes fail, the lights flicker, and the sealed spells reverse. One of the sacred prayers exploded in half, transforming into a circle of dispersion.

Long, feather-soft paws danced over the inscriptions, redrawing chaos into art. When a paladin apprentice tried to intervene, Morwynn appeared behind him, her eyes shining.

"You are praying to the mirror." And then she silenced him.

Sylha? She was multiplying. In every tower, in every stained glass window, a version of her appeared, laughing, crying, preaching false sermons. A knight shouted "demon!" only to be embraced by a chorus of false versions, each asking for forgiveness.

"Oh, you take this so seriously," laughed the original, sitting on a ledge, her legs crossed. "Have you ever thought that maybe the divine is just bored?"

She disappeared, appeared, rang bells that didn’t exist, confused commands, made priests shout at walls and knights duel each other.

Eren, meanwhile, crossed the forgotten tunnels under Barovik. The darkness did not bother him—he saw better in the silence than in the glaring light of the surface. The mask still protected him from the mystical eyes scattered throughout the corridors.

Above him, the chaos intensified. The symphony of the plan in motion. Each step he took fit into the rhythm of the battle.

[Group Affinity: Stable]

[Spiritual Interference: Temporarily neutralized]

[Runic Belt Bonus: +1 Affinity for active positive interaction]

At the entrance to the final sanctuary, Eren stopped. He knew what awaited him. Malrik. Hagan. And the last faithful of the lie.

He felt no fear. Only calculation.

The exploit beat like a second heart inside his chest.

[Mode: Infiltration successfully completed]

[Updated objective: Eliminate the fanatics and seal Barovik]

With a silent burst of energy, Eren crossed the last barrier of light.

The next scene would be hell.

And he already had the map.

Kaela swept through the broken streets of Barovik like a living avalanche. The ground cracked beneath her feet. The heat from the sacred symbols on the walls burned her vision—but she did not flinch. She did not retreat.

Behind her, a trail of twisted armor and empty helmets marked the path of her charge. The soldiers of the Order of the Burning Eye were trained, disciplined... but they were not prepared for her. No one was. An enraged wolf, free, hungry for revenge.

And it was there, in the center of a square with cracked mosaics and shattered stained glass windows, that Kaela found the wall.

Or rather, the wall found her.

"Kaela, of Eren Vale." The voice was laden with authority and fire. "By the holy light of Eldros, you will be purified."

She stopped. Her claws scraped against the stone.

In front of her, a woman dressed in full armor appeared between the columns of the temple. Tall, with a white cloak scorched by embers. The helmet had a burning symbol embedded on the forehead—a living flame that writhed like a snake.

"Irhena..." Kaela narrowed her eyes, recognizing the name from whispered rumors. "Champion of the Order."

The paladin drove a flaming sword into the ground.

"Your existence taints this soil. Your filthy paws have no place among the pure."

Kaela licked her teeth.

"Too bad I brought enough mud to bury your entire sect."

And then she advanced.

The impact was brutal.

The two met with primitive violence—holy steel against enchanted flesh. Irhena spun with her flaming sword, cutting the air in a destructive arc, but Kaela ducked, slid across the stones, and rose with a hook that made the paladin’s armor vibrate.

Irhena staggered, but reacted quickly, striking the wolf’s chest with her shield. Kaela flew three meters, rolling across the ground, but got up before she even stopped.

"Stronger than the others, huh?" she growled, massaging her shoulder.

Irhena was already coming with another attack. The sword whirled like a whip of liquid fire. Kaela blocked with her claws, but the impact cracked the ground beneath her feet.

The symbol on the paladin’s armor burned brighter with each blow.

[Danger Detected: Holy Flame Armor – Bound to Combat Blessing]

[Partial immunity to magical damage | Blows increase in power according to the user’s faith]

"You won’t win by shouting," said Irhena. "Nor with strength." Faith burns brighter than muscles.

"Faith can’t withstand a bite."

Kaela lunged again, this time aiming for the joints of the armor. She moved like a predator: low, fast, unpredictable. She attacked with an arcing kick, then a spin that hit the side of the helmet. Irhena staggered. But she quickly recovered.

The sword came down in a straight line, opening a crater of flames. Kaela jumped back, but felt the heat tear through the air. Her left arm was marked—a spiritual burn.

She fell to her knees, panting.

Irhena raised her blade.

"Your claws aren’t enough, monster."

And then something changed.

Kaela felt it. Not in her claws. Not in her muscles.

In her chest.

Something warm. But not like the paladin’s fire. It was different. More... liquid. Familiar.

The system reacted:

[Maximum Affinity Detected — Active Bond with Nyssa and Morwynn]

[Inherited effects temporarily unlocked]

[Kaela received: Arachnid Reflexes (Morwynn) | Flexible Emotional Bond (Nyssa)]

[+15% evasion | +10% emotional regeneration per impact]

She gasped once.

And then she smiled.

The second round began in silence.

Kaela disappeared from the paladin’s line of sight. Irhena spun, searching with her sword, but the wolf appeared and disappeared in the shadows like a curse. Enhanced reflexes. Silent footsteps. Precise jumps.

When the first blow struck Irhena in the back, the paladin turned too late.

"Now I’m more than just muscles," Kaela whispered in her ear before leaping backward.

Irhena roared, striking the air with fury.

Kaela began to test something new: the emotions she felt. Anger turned into energy. Pain turned into strength. It was as if Nyssa were there with her, helping her transmute everything into fuel. Each wound diminished. Each impact was healed instinctively.

Irhena’s sword flashed in one last frontal attack, but Kaela spun in the air, twisting with the fluidity of a spider, and descended with both claws dug into her opponent’s shoulder.

The sacred symbol glowed one last time.

And then it faded.

The paladin fell to her knees.

"Your... faith..."

"...is nothing but pride afraid of dying," Kaela murmured, panting.

She looked at her bloody hands, then at the cloudy sky of Barovik.

And she thought of Eren.

[Combat Complete – Kaela’s Victory]

[Status: Tired but stable]

[Global Affinity Increased +2]

[Note: Inherited reflexes still active for 5 minutes]

She growled softly, satisfied.

But she didn’t smile.

Not yet.

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

Sylha floated like a wrong note in a silent symphony.

The inner towers of the Order’s central convent were sober, stifling. Stone corridors, dark carpets, flickering candles in niches carved out by force. Every few feet, sacred symbols burned against the air—but they did not shine for her.

She was the exception. The error on the back of the doctrine.

"Shhh..." she whispered to her own mouth, drawing a lip with mist — quiet, heart... today is theater day.

The system flashed slightly.

[Mode: Active Manipulation]

[Environment: Unstable Mental Zone]

[+20% effectiveness in trauma-based illusions]

[Access allowed: Local Environmental Memories]

Sylha loved it. The architecture of pain. The ballet of hypocrisy. She passed the guards unnoticed, creating only a hint of a presence that made the men scratch themselves, look back, whisper among themselves.

She planted doubts like seeds. All she needed was time.

She climbed between columns and tapestries to the upper sector, where the indoctrinating priests of the Order slept and plotted. There, the smell was different—incense, sweat, and dried lies.

"Here we are..." she hummed, turning upside down like a doll suspended by strings, "the nest of the saints."

Inside the chamber, three figures were gathered. Heavy robes. Hanging medallions. Voices too low for prayer, too loud for repentance.

Sylha crossed the wall like a sigh. And then she stopped.

There, in the corner of the hall, was a metal grate. And behind it... eyes.

Small eyes. Frightened. Of various shapes. Of various colors. Some with scales. Others with hair or antennae.

Children.

"Little monsters..." whispered the ghost, losing her theatrical air for a moment. "You..."

The priests’ words filled the room once more:

"...the ritual must be performed before they reach puberty. The magical core is more unstable, but it allows for total conversion.

"We’ve already tested it on three. The rune works. The soul burns and the remains can be molded. Living weapons.

"May Eldros forgive us. It is necessary.

Sylha smiled.

Not a festive smile. Not a stage smile. But a smile from the bottom of the pit, where even the echo cries softly.

She snapped her fingers. And the world became a theater.

The candlelight flickered. The walls stretched. The shadows on the priests’ backs began to move with a life of their own. Voices of dead monsters whispered names they tried to forget.

One of the priests fell to his knees.

"What... what is this...?"

"It’s just... the truth, dear," replied Sylha, stepping out from the wall and appearing floating on the ceiling — "or at least, the one you hid under the bed."

Her clothes were stained with memory. Each thread vibrated with the weight of a forgotten soul. She snapped her fingers again—and then, one by one, the monster children appeared in illusory versions, holding hands, walking across the room, staring at the priests with empty eyes.

"They... they’re dead! I saw them...!"

"Of course you did!" Sylha shouted, laughing loudly, then crying, then laughing again. "You killed them yourselves! But this isn’t divine punishment, no... it’s just the reflection in the mirror."

One of the priests ran. He tried to activate an alarm rune.

Sylha appeared before him in a flash. Her eyes were large, bright, and pupil-less.

"Shhhh... let’s play confession."

And then she touched his forehead.

[Ability: Reversed Memory activated]

[Applying: Psychic Reversal due to Trauma]

The priest screamed. He fell to his knees, then on his side, babbling the names of the children. He cried as if he were five years old, watching his own father disappear.

Sylha turned to the other two.

"And you? Are you going to run? Are you going to scream ’heresy’? Are you going to say you’re doing this for ’salvation’?"

The walls of the room shook. The paintings changed shape, showing scenes of ritualistic executions. The crosses were inverted. The candles bled.

"You are so weak." She floated, stopping between them. "Too weak to love what you don’t understand... so you prefer to burn. But do you know what will burn now?"

She pointed.

"All of this."

With one last gesture, Sylha laughed loudly.

The runes on the ceiling glowed once. Then they went out.

The priests fainted. Silence fell like a black veil.

She descended to the railing. She looked into the real—not illusory—eyes of the children.

"You’ll be okay. We’re fixing things. Even if it’s... with shouting."

The little creatures didn’t speak. Some hid. Others just stared.

Sylha looked up at the ceiling.

"Eren... I did my part. Now finish them off, please..."

The system responded:

[Infiltration complete: Doctrinal Core]

[Result: Enemy Morale Break +40%]

[Sylha received: Temporary Title – Voice of Lost Memory]

[+10% effectiveness in psychic abilities during final combat]

She spun in the air, sighing theatrically, and disappeared in a lilac mist.

But wherever she passed... the lies ceased to make sense.

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

The air underground trembled.

Nyssa glided through the ancient galleries of Barovik, where the tunnels were narrow, the ceiling low, and the echoes too long to be reliable. She split herself into small fragments as she advanced, feeling the dampness in the stones and the traces of forgotten energy on the ground. The mission was clear: to protect. But what she would find was not.

That’s when she heard it.

A sob. Small, muffled.

She approached, slipping through the cracks of a half-open trapdoor. Inside was an old abandoned cistern. And there they were—at least eight children, with hybrid features: elongated ears, feline eyes, scales in spots on their bodies. All huddled together, embracing each other. Little monsters. Like her.

Nyssa reconfigured herself into an almost human form, with translucent hands and a gentle smile.

"It’s okay... I... I’m a friend," she whispered.

Some of the children backed away. One of them, smaller, approached and touched her arm carefully. Nyssa shuddered. Their fear was sharp as ice.

Then the metallic sound of boots echoed through the tunnel. Soldiers.

"They’re here! I heard children’s voices!"

Nyssa turned abruptly. Three men from the Order were approaching with spears and enchanted lights. They weren’t there to rescue. They were there to collect.

"Don’t move!" one of them shouted.

The children screamed.

But Nyssa didn’t.

She stood up, blocking the entrance to the compartment with her fluid body.

"D-don’t touch them."

The soldiers hesitated. One of them advanced—and Nyssa acted.

[Ability Activated: Liquid Shield]

[Adaptive defensive form | Able to absorb impact and moderate magic]

[Expanded area: 3 meters wide]

Her body spread out like a shiny, watery wall. The first spear pierced through, but came out the other side spinning limply. The second ricocheted and fell to the ground. The third soldier tried a burst of magic—useless. The energy dissipated like ink in water.

[Elemental Resistance Active – +25% per emotional affinity]

And then, a voice came. Low, firm, familiar.

"Don’t react with fear. React with intention."

"Spread out to the sides. Strength isn’t everything, Nyssa. Strategy."

It was Eren. His voice deep within the bond. The Rune Belt pulsed with emotional heat. The affinity between them became a tactical plan.

Nyssa took a deep breath, split into three smaller copies, and surrounded the soldiers from the sides. One of them stumbled, the other tried to run away. She disarmed them both with smooth movements, without violence. Just with pressure, precision, and... presence.

The third soldier hesitated. Nyssa looked him in the eye and simply said:

"Why are you so afraid of us?"

He backed away. He ran away.

She undid the copies, returned to her original form, and turned to the children.

"You are safe now."

The system responded:

[Parallel Objective Completed: Protect the Refugees]

[Affinity with Eren increased]

[New Ability Awakened: Emotional Barrier – Shield based on emotional proximity]

Nyssa looked at the children and then at the tunnel ahead. She was still shaking. But not from fear. From determination.

For the first time, she felt she could protect someone. Even though she was... herself.

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

Morwynn danced.

Not like a ballerina. Not like a warrior.

She danced like spiders dance—between other people’s breaths, on structures that didn’t know they were about to collapse. Invisible. Sensual. Precise.

Every line she left behind was a promise. Each step, a secret. And on that desecrated night in Barovik, she was the only performer on stage.

The streets below were teeming with soldiers and clerics running in circles. A false war of faith against monsters. But Morwynn did not fight there. She walked among the rooftops like a minor goddess — whispering destruction with silk fingers.

[Item: Essence of the Labyrinth — Remaining charge: 3]

[Effect: Amplifies any affinity spell by 150%]

[Status: Ready for infusion and synchronized magical detonation]

She extracted the first vial with a care only afforded to expensive poisons. The Essence of the Labyrinth glowed emerald blue, pulsing as if it had a heartbeat of its own. Morwynn smiled. Oh, how she loved pulses.

"You will be my point of tension," she whispered, placing the first charge under the arch of a sacred tower.

With delicate movements, she pulled an invisible thread and connected the Essence to the structure. The line vibrated like a violin string. It almost moaned under her touch.

"A fine seam... right in the backbone of their pride."

She continued.

Morwynn did not run. She glided. Like an artist who knows the rhythms of the night. She didn’t need to see with her eyes. She felt the vibrations of chaos below like a conductor perceives flaws in an orchestra. Kaela had already broken the drums. Sylha had challenged the violins. Nyssa held the voices. She? She was cutting the strings of the harp. Silently.

Next target: the Tower of Songs.

There, an enchanted bell was activated every time a "monster" was captured or killed. A monument to obedience. Morwynn did not tolerate forced music. She landed on the roof and lay face down, observing the carved wood and golden runes surrounding the mechanism.

"Too beautiful to be true."

With slow movements, she inserted the second vial of Essence right in the center of the bell’s base. The vibration changed. The sound bent. The harmony was corrupted.

She sighed.

"Second point. Line drawn. Breath held. They will ring the bell, and it will respond with a cry."

Her claws slid along the wire. The spider wove not to capture prey... but to sustain a moment. A perfect instant of rupture.

[Sabotage Network: 2/3 points connected]

[Coordinated explosion available in: mental command or affinity pulse]

The sky was already beginning to flash with magic and smoke. Barovik was singing the song of the fall.

Morwynn smiled with her lips, her eyes, and even her shoulders. She knew no one there was watching. And yet she danced as if there were an audience suspended in the shadows.

The third point was the most symbolic.

The Lesser Altar of Eldros, positioned on a tower that simulated a divine throne. There, the prayers were stronger. The magical protection was triple. The runes, carved with ancient blood and condensed faith.

Perfect.

She landed like mist, folding her eight legs elegantly. A priest was there, on his knees, reciting chants in a trembling voice. Morwynn did not hide. She just stood there, above him.

The man saw her.

He trembled. He screamed.

She tilted her head. Her eyes shone like dark jewels.

"Keep praying, dear. Every great work needs a soundtrack."

And then, with a gentle touch—almost a lover’s caress—she slid the last vial of Essence over the edge of the central rune.

[Sabotage Network: 3/3 points connected]

[Status: Ready for synchronized detonation]

[Estimated damage: Extremely high on runic structures | Possible collapse of regional magical flow]

The city was already in symbolic collapse. She was just preparing the aesthetic outcome.

"Now all that’s left is the applause," she murmured, pulling a central thread that connected the three points.

Tension ran through the invisible lines like cold sweat on marble skin.

Eren whispered via the link:

"Wait for my signal."

Morwynn trembled slightly.

"How sweet, the conductor still conducts."

But she obeyed.

She stood there, atop the altar, with the threads between her fingers. Ready to pull. Ready to undo the fabric of hypocrisy that covered Barovik. An artist about to destroy the stage.

And for the first time in a long time... she felt needed.

Not as a tool. Not as a freak with too many legs.

But as the invisible hand behind the fall.

[Current Status: Waiting for signal from the tamer]

[Vulnerable Runic Heart]

[Morwynn received: Execution Bonus – +25% Initial Sabotage Damage]

She closed her eyes.

And continued to dance — even though she was motionless.

Because the fall is, after all, the last part of the show.

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

The blood was warm.

Warm like faith, warm like guilt. Warm like the flame he had nurtured within himself since the first sermon he had delivered as a child, before an altar built with stolen stones and false promises.

Malrik knelt in the center of the runic circle, his bare chest covered with symbols carved with a knife. Behind him, Hagan watched silently, his eyes closed, as if he were praying too—but his faith was different. Malrik’s burned brightly.

"Lord of the Incandescent Eyes... Judge of Beasts... Patron of the End of Bonds..." he whispered through stained teeth, "accept my body as a torch... my soul as a knife... my memory as an offering."

The runes around him flickered. The walls of the altar seemed to sweat. The Red Essence, harvested from infant monsters, bubbled in silver bowls before him.

Malrik raised his hands to the closed sky of Barovik.

"They betrayed us. They let the tamers infiltrate. Corrupt the people. Desecrate our homes."

He plunged a dagger into his own shoulder and spun. Blood dripped in perfect patterns onto the floor. A ruby serpent formed, alive, pulsing.

[Fusion Ritual Initiated – Ancestral Spirit: The Censor of the Currents]

[Forced Bond: Human body as receptacle | Risk of existential rupture: HIGH]

The air darkened. Time trembled.

A voice filled the altar.

"You call me, but are you worthy?"

"I am the one who saw impurity born in a golden cradle. Who burned cities to save prayers. Who made monsters an offering. I am the only one worthy!"

The spirit laughed. A laugh without a throat, without end.

"Then prove it. Offer not only your body... but your humanity."

Malrik did not hesitate. He plunged the dagger into his chest.

The circle exploded in purple light.

His body arched. His veins expanded, his eyes went blank. Bones cracked silently.

But he did not scream.

Because for Malrik... becoming a monster was only the last stage of sainthood.

[Fusion in progress... 74%]

The entire temple shook with Malrik’s ritual.

Eren was silent, kneeling on the roof of a side sacristy, enveloped by the Mask of Translucent Web, his hands on a circular rune newly engraved with his own magic. Lines of communication vibrated around him—echo runes, runic mirrors, receivers hidden in the houses and squares of the city.

The system confirmed:

[Channeled Transmission — Access to the Order’s Ritualistic Network: COMPROMISED]

[Reach: 74% of Barovik’s population]

[Estimated duration: 3 minutes]

Eren took a deep breath. And spoke.

"People of Barovik. Soldiers. Clergy. Children. Fathers. Mothers. Listen.

His voice echoed in all directions. Through the stained glass windows, through the water, through the chimneys. It was not a cry. It was a scalpel.

"You have been deceived. The Order of the Burning Eye protects no one. It sacrifices. It corrupts.

Images projected by the runes began to appear on nearby surfaces. Imprisoned children. Blood. The runes of sacrifice. Malrik’s body writhing on an altar of darkness.

"While you pray, they destroy your children. While you fight for faith, they fight for control."

He looked up at the gray sky and clenched his fists.

"But it’s not too late. You can stop this. Refuse orders. Disengage your seals. Help those who still breathe."

The soldiers listened.

Some hesitated. Others dropped their weapons. An acolyte fell to his knees and wept. The voices of the city trembled—and began to divide.

[Transmission Complete]

[Result: Internal Division Activated | Enemy Morale Reduced –40%]

[Potential Allies Emerging in the Forces of Order]

Eren stood up.

And smiled — without pleasure, without relief. Only with the certainty that now... Malrik was naked before his own city.

The chapel was a perfect stage.

Narrow walls, low ceiling, broken stained glass windows—as if the faith inside was ashamed of itself. Sylha floated in the center of the hall, enveloped in a lilac mist, her eyes wide with theatrical delight.

She had already memorized everything. Webs of memory. Echoes of despair. Fragments gathered from the heart of the city, where hidden children cried namelessly.

"Everything is ready for the audience..." she murmured, spinning like a ballerina.

And then they came.

Ten soldiers. Three clergymen. A knight with a flaming symbol on his chest. They rushed in, summoned by false cries, inverted bells, and the vision of a "heavenly apparition" that Sylha had created minutes before.

When they crossed the door... the world turned into a mirror.

[Active Ability: Soul Reflection]

[Psychic Illusion based on the victim’s most repressed memories]

One of the soldiers screamed when he saw his own mother’s face... scratched by monstrous claws. Another fell to his knees when he heard the cry of a child he didn’t have the courage to save. The knight saw himself — naked, kneeling, begging forgiveness from a monster he had killed out of fear.

Sylha floated above them, smiling. Crying. Laughing.

"Oh, how beautiful you are when you break apart..."

The voices began to implode. The oldest cleric tore off his own vestments. One soldier punched the wall. Another shouted "I am pure!" until he was hoarse.

The illusion closed like a cocoon.

And in the center of the chapel, the altar of the Order pulsed—covered in gold and lies.

Sylha approached slowly, her arms outstretched like a child asking to be picked up.

"You’re ugly, you know? It doesn’t go with that shiny dress."

And then, with a delicate gesture, she touched the base of the altar.

[Spectral Magic Activated: Sacred Symbol Rupture]

[Effect: Faithful Core Corruption — 100%]

The altar broke into three pieces. Purple light exploded like poison in mist. The walls of the chapel began to shake.

Sylha disappeared in a swirl of smoke.

The soldiers were trapped. Crying. Laughing. Dying without knowing where they were.

The door disappeared behind them.

And Sylha... just whispered:

"Amen."

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

The floor was covered with embers.

Kaela advanced with wounded feet, her skin raw, her eyes narrowed like knives. In front of her, Irhena was still breathing—standing firm, the flaming shield trembling in her arm. But it was only appearance. She had already lost.

"You... are a freak," whispered Irhena, spitting blood.

"And you... stink of burnt pride."

Kaela lunged forward.

Irhena raised her shield one last time. The blade also rose—but too late.

Kaela jumped, spinning with her whole body, and sank her teeth into the center of the shield.

[Active Bonus: Emotional Boost – Nyssa]

[+15% strength in protective actions | +10% resistance to magic damage]

With a sharp crack, the shield broke. It didn’t crack—it broke. Like poorly fired porcelain. Irhena staggered, her arm fractured by the impact. Kaela fell on all fours, growling.

The silence was absolute.

The paladin took two steps back. She looked around. The city was already shaking. Screams came from all sides. The sound of soldiers giving up. The fire no longer seemed sacred.

"If I fall... it won’t be by your hands," she whispered, panting.

Kaela stared at her, ready to attack again.

But Irhena stuck her sword into the ground and knelt before the ritual pyre next to the altar. She whispered a prayer.

And threw herself into the flames.

The fire rose, engulfing armor, hair, and faith.

Kaela did not watch the end. She simply turned her back and moved on.

[Enemy Defeated – Irhena, Paladin of Flames]

[Kaela’s Status: Exhausted | Passive Regeneration Activated]

[Enemy Morale Collapsing...]

And for the first time, Kaela did not growl.

She only felt pity.

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

The footsteps were small.

The children followed her in silence, eyes wide, some still trembling, others clinging to cloaks, tails, scales, or antennae. Nyssa led them all with her body expanded into filaments of blue light, forming a translucent and welcoming path.

Sylha had indicated the shelter. An ancient, forgotten crypt, now protected by illusory runes and spectral magic. Nyssa didn’t know exactly how it worked — but she trusted it. Sylha made it seem like the impossible was just theater with practical effects.

Upon arrival, the crypt door opened by itself. A lilac mist enveloped the group, and the children disappeared from view, one by one, protected under an enchanted veil.

Nyssa entered last.

"N-Now... you are safe..."

She looked at their little faces, still marked by tears. None of them said anything—but a little monster with golden eyes held her gelatinous hand.

Nyssa shuddered.

[Side Objective Completed: Take Refugees to the Enchanted Shelter]

[System: Affinity Expanding]

[Effect Unlocked: Improved Emotional Barrier – Shield increases by 30% when protecting innocents]

She knelt right there, trembling inside.

Not from fear. But from something new. Something that grew silently, like a flower in a cave.

Courage.

Nyssa squeezed her eyes shut tightly. A tear rolled down her cheek—and merged with the surface of her body, shining for an instant.

[Affinity with Eren: Level 7 – Bond of Emotional Trust]

[Passive Effect: Empathic Communication with the Tamer activated]

She heard Eren’s voice in the back of her mind, like a gentle whisper:

"You did more than any soldier could have done."

Nyssa smiled. Small. Shy. But true.

And there, in the dark, surrounded by fragile lives... she knew: she was becoming strong.

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

The city had taken a deep breath.

Morwynn felt the tension vibrate through the lines she had sewn between towers, symbols, and altars, like someone feeling a web stretch at the perfect moment. It was time to cut. Time for art.

"So beautiful," she whispered, standing atop the pinnacle of the Tower of Songs, "it hurts."

[Sabotage Network: 3/3 points connected]

[Coordinated Explosion – Ready for activation]

She pulled the wire.

Silence.

And then... light.

But not like fire or lightning. The explosions of the Essence of the Labyrinth were silent, delicate, slow—like crackles in the darkness of a gallery. Green and silver patterns rose up the city walls, tearing runes with surgical precision.

The Tower of Songs collapsed elegantly. The enchanted bell fell in a spiral, disintegrating into dissolved air.

In the central temple, the altar screamed. Faith turned to smoke. And the ground shook in reverence to the collapse.

Morwynn watched everything from above. The green light reflected in her dark eyes.

She crossed her legs and rested her chin in her hands.

"Art destroys as much as it creates."

[Sabotage Complete]

[Result: Sacred Structures Deactivated | Morale Weakened –80%]

[Temporary Title: The Spinning of the Fall]

Figures from the Order ran, screamed, got lost. Barovik was no longer a temple. It was a canvas.

And Morwynn was the signature in the lower corner.

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

The scarlet hall seemed to pulsate.

It was like being inside an open wound. The walls were covered with enchanted flesh, mixing stone and magical fabric, and the floor, once polished, now teemed with runes that glowed a deep red—like embers that never go out.

Eren entered without making a sound. His feet glided across the uneven surface like shadows over coagulated blood. The Translucent Web Mask covered his face, his presence completely hidden from magical detection.

[Status: Mystical Invisibility — Active (4:17 remaining)]

[Bonus: Immune to spiritual sensors and hostility detectors while active]

The system remained silent, as if even it hesitated in the face of the presence that awaited in the center of the hall.

There, on a disfigured altar, Malrik waited for him — or rather, what remained of Malrik.

Half man. Half offering.

Curved horns emerged from his temples like inverted crowns. His eyes were craters of solid fire, and the symbol of the Order was embedded in his chest, pulsing like an external heart. Black veins snaked across his body, glowing in shades of purple and gold—the reflection of his incomplete fusion with the ancestral spirit.

[Analysis: Unstable Entity — Incomplete fusion with "Censor of the Currents"]

[Risk: High | Vulnerability: High during peaks of spiritual oscillation]

Malrik spoke to himself. His voice was deep, fervent, unceasing.

"They are weak. They betrayed the dogma. They forgot the steel. They forgot purification. But not me. I gave myself entirely. I am Judgment. The Final Apostle."

He raised his arms, and black flames ignited around the room. The symbols on the walls cried out with energy.

Eren did not move.

He waited.

He waited for the oscillation.

And it came—a tiny breach in Malrik’s aura, a moment when the runes on his body flickered out of sync with the rest of the hall.

"Now," Eren whispered.

The system responded:

[Invisibility Cancelled by Offensive Action]

[Spell Prepared: Incandescent Fragmentation — Focus: Elemental Convergence of Fire]

[Surprise Multiplier: +100%]

Eren appeared out of nowhere.

He jumped from a beam, his fist already wrapped in blue flames. The explosion was immediate — Incandescent Fragmentation hit Malrik right in the symbol on his chest.

The magic spread like spiraling shrapnel, piercing the magical protection and hitting the unstable points of the fusion.

Malrik screamed.

Not in pain.

But in pleasure.

"YES!" his voice multiplied, the entire hall reverberating. "THIS IS WAR! THIS IS WHAT THEY FEARED!"

He spun, his body distorted. His legs gained double joints. His skin opened into spikes. A malformed aura of spiritual energy appeared around him, distorting the air like a mirage.

Eren retreated with precision, already preparing his next attack. His eyes analyzed every movement, looking for flaws. But Malrik was on another plane of existence now — half spirit, half fanatic.

"You don’t understand what you’re facing, boy," Malrik growled, spitting embers. "I am the end of chains. The end of pacts. I am what is born when faith becomes a knife!

Eren wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth with his thumb.

"Cool. I’m just a bug."

He raised his hand, drawing on some of the heat left over from the previous explosion. He used the corrupted environment as fuel. The flames took on a liquid form, swirling around his body.

[Active Combo: Flaming Rift Style - Level 2]

[Zone Bonus: +15% Magic Damage in Corrupted Environments]

"And bugs are hard to remove."

Malrik charged forward like a sacred bull. The impact cracked the ground. But Eren slid to the side, dodging by inches, and responded with a concentrated beam of fire aimed directly at the joints that were still human.

Flames and faith collided.

And for the first time, Malrik hesitated.

Because Eren’s strength did not come from dogma.

It came from bonds.

And now, he was not fighting alone.

The scarlet hall no longer seemed part of the city.

It seemed like another dimension—a magical, throbbing, contaminated wound. The air was thick, impregnated with broken faith and residual fire. The runes covering the walls vibrated in uncoordinated cycles, like hearts in panic.

And at the center of the ruin: Malrik, half man, half apostle, a monstrosity in fusion.

Horns pierced his skull. The symbol of the Order was embedded in his skin like an eye in raw flesh. The aura around him screamed—not with power, but with instability. The fusion with the ancestral spirit was almost complete... but broken.

Eren did not flinch.

He felt.

[Runic Belt of Bonding – Active Synchronization]

[Active Bonds: Kaela (Controlled Fury) | Nyssa (Emotional Strength) | Morwynn (Arachnid Precision) | Sylha (Spiritual Illusion)]

[Group Effect: Shared Flow – Magic + Affinity + Instinct]

Four pulsars echoed in Eren’s chest, like parallel hearts.

Kaela was the steadiness in his feet.

Nyssa, the softness that sustained him.

Morwynn, the coldness of execution.

And Sylha... Sylha was the creative whisper. The elegant distortion. The breaking of rules.

Eren took a deep breath.

He opened his belt and pulled out the last shiny vial — Essence of the Labyrinth.

[Item Activated: Essence of the Labyrinth — Final Charge]

[+150% Affinity Spell Amplification]

The liquid seemed alive. Green, silver, pulsing like a hungry core. Eren poured it into the air and traced a circle with his right hand, while his left manipulated the internal flame that only he knew how to control.

"Ordinary magic isn’t good enough for you, is it, Malrik?" he muttered. "Then here’s the worst of them."

The circle glowed. Four lines of runes shot out to the far ends of the hall—each connected to one of the girls.

[Special Spell: Magic Affinity Explosion – Quadruple Bond]

[Result: Emotional Saturation + Spiritual Overload]

Kaela felt it first. The force exploded in her muscles.

Nyssa responded with heat—a shield around Eren, protective, alive.

Morwynn whispered something incomprehensible. A signature of precision aligned with the magic.

And Sylha... smiled somewhere in the city, and sent a psychic laugh that distorted the flow like a theatrical signature.

The circle lit up.

And then it exploded.

A flower of binding light took over the hall. It wasn’t just fire, nor just sound. It was feeling. It was trauma and desire mixed in raw arcanism.

Malrik staggered.

"What... is this...?" This... isn’t magic...

Eren advanced. The runes on his body glowed like living embers.

"It’s not. It’s a bond."

Malrik roared. The symbol on his chest glowed like a black star. He raised both hands, summoning the final blow of the ancestral spirit.

[Malrik Activated: Judgment of the Censor – Final Technique]

[Magical Projection: Purification by Eruption]

The ceiling of the cathedral spiraled open. A column of purple and gold light descended like a divine blade.

But Eren did not retreat.

He already held the Whispering Memory Fragment.

[Activating Fragment...]

[Resonance Detected with Hostile Judgment]

[Mirror Defense: ENABLED]

[Ancestral Technique Returned: Broken Resonance – Counter Judgment]

The fragment absorbed the beam. Every particle of light was sucked in and converted. The crystal trembled, and then Eren felt a second presence take over his muscles. Not a possession. An inheritance.

The voice returned.

"Return the guilt. Return the lie. Make him swallow the dogma until he suffocates."

Eren advanced. His right arm wrapped in inherited flames, his left holding the bond.

He struck.

The attack was not physical. Nor was it magical in the usual sense. It was a resonance.

The blow that came from his fist was composed of all the memories, fears, and bonds that Malrik had tried to impose on the world — and which now returned as inverted fragments.

The rune on Malrik’s chest broke.

His body shook.

And then...

[Fusion Broken]

[Host: Malrik — Final Instability Confirmed]

[Result: Magical Ruin | Spiritual Core Saturated]

The apostle’s body opened up.

Not in blood. But in exploding symbols, words burning in the air, as if the language of faith were disintegrating before Eren.

Malrik fell to his knees.

"N... no... I... was... chosen..."

Eren looked serious, tired — but firm.

"You were just an echo. I am the bug."

And Malrik’s body exploded in a spiral of purple smoke and green light.

The ground shook. The walls collapsed. The magical ruin expanded like a final breath—and then ceased.

Silence.

[Enemy Defeated: Malrik, Apostle of Ruin]

[System Updating...]

[Bonds Reinforced | New Resonance Unlocked]

[Title Acquired: Echo of Resistance]

Eren fell to his knees.

Gasping for breath.

But alive.

The voices of the bonds came immediately after.

Kaela: "Finally."

Nyssa: "Are you okay?"

Morwynn: "Elegant even in collapse."

Sylha: "It was beautiful. I would cry... if I weren’t laughing so hard!"

Eren closed his eyes. He smiled briefly.

He knew the world was not yet saved.

But that night, he had overcome corrupted faith with something older than any dogma.

Trust.

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

The ground shook like a funeral drum.

The outer sanctuary, known as the Throne of the Word, swayed on its foundations as the runes of the scarlet temple failed. A wave of purple and green energy coursed through the city’s runic veins, extinguishing sacred lights, shattering prayer mirrors, and toppling the sound towers.

In the upper chamber of the Order’s complex, Hagan interrupted his meditation.

He raised his eyes slowly, his face covered in vertical shadows cast by the darkened stained-glass windows. His priestly robe was stained with ash from recently melted candles. One hand rested on the relic of the Blind Crown, an ancient artifact said to be the veil Eldros used to seal the vision of the weak.

An acolyte burst through the hall doors, breathless.

"Malrik... has fallen. The bond with the Censor... has been destroyed. He... he disintegrated."

Hagan did not move.

His gaze remained fixed. It was as if he had left his own body.

"How many saw it?"

"The whole city. The broadcasts were compromised. Eren Vale showed... everything."

A long silence.

Then Hagan stood up.

"I see..."

The acolyte looked at him, confused, pale.

"Sir?"

Hagan walked to the center of the room, where a stone circle displayed carved scenes from the creation of the dogma. His fingers traced the image of a monster kneeling before men with spears.

"You know, over time I’ve learned that when faith is threatened, it needs sacrifice. When the impure win, the pure become martyrs. Cancel the evacuations," he said to the acolyte. "Close all routes. Burn the archives. And prepare the Crown of the city."

"Are... are you going to use it?"

Hagan turned his face away, his eyes like static embers.

"It’s the only way."

He removed his upper robes, revealing his chest covered with scars in the shape of sacred writing. Ancient symbols began to glow, acknowledging the decision.

"But as a final offering."

The temple burned outside.

But Hagan saw only redemption.

And the name of Eren Vale... was now part of the dogma. As heresy to be remembered—or consumed.

The air in the temple still burned.

The main doors had fallen, the stained glass windows were shattered, and pieces of the altar were scattered like broken teeth. But Eren walked through it all with steady steps. Smoke rose from his skin—not from burns, but from the magical overload still dissipating. The battle against Malrik had left marks that even the system couldn’t name.

The sky above Barovik was purple, with cracks of murky light opening where the runic towers had fallen. The city seemed to breathe, as if trying to understand what had happened.

Eren passed through a cracked corridor and exited through the staircases of the main temple.

The people were already gathering in the shadows. Citizens, soldiers, even confused worshippers. Everyone stared silently at the figure emerging from the chaos. Smoke molded its outline. The marks on its body glowed.

And then the system responded.

[Intermediate Boss Eliminated]

[Reward: Access to the Inner Sectors of the Sacred Complex]

[Recognition Updated: Highly Dangerous Host]

[Temporary Title: Bearer of Silent Ruin]

And, just below:

[New Mission: Purify the Faith]

[Final Target: Hagan, Protector of the Blind Crown]

[Location: Hall of the Blind Crown – Extremely High Danger Level]

[Objective: Interrupt the Ritual of Total Martyrdom]

Eren read without changing his expression.

He already knew.

Every step up to that point had been preparation. Every bond, a test. Now, it was no longer about defeating fanatics.

It was about facing what faith becomes when it loses meaning and chooses to die burning.

The staircase stretched ahead.

And up there... the Hall of the Blind Crown awaited.

Kaela, Nyssa, Morwynn, and Sylha waited for him among the rubble, ready.

Eren said nothing.

He just walked.

The last dance was about to begin.

Mystical dust floated in the air like ashes from an era coming to an end. The houses still standing exuded residual heat, marks from magical explosions crisscrossing the ground like emotional cracks. And in the heart of the square, four figures approached a common point, coming from different directions—all marked.

Kaela arrived first. Covered in dried blood and soot, part of the natural armor of her claws was cracked, and one of her shoulders seemed dislocated. But her eyes remained fierce. She did not look to the sides—only forward.

Nyssa appeared shortly after, floating in an almost liquid state. Her body was opaque, her eyes downcast. Parts of her form melted and reformed slowly, as if each step required emotional effort beyond the physical.

Morwynn appeared on the rooftops, gliding like an empty shadow. Her webs were dry, her movements slow and meticulous. For the first time, she said nothing, provoked nothing, sighed nothing. She just watched with empty eyes.

And finally, Sylha, spinning in the air with her arms outstretched, stained with spectral light. Her expression was a smile. But not a happy one. It was the smile of someone who knows the end of the show and yet still enjoys the soundtrack of the fall.

They gathered around Eren, who waited for them in the center of the square, motionless.

His eyes analyzed each of them. Each wound. Each silence. Each remnant of those who still resisted there.

He didn’t say "thank you."

He didn’t say "let’s rest."

He just stared at them with the cold calm of someone who understands the weight of each step.

And then he said:

"Time for the final act."

The system reacted.

[Full Formation: Quadruple Bond]

[Alert: Final Boss Awaiting Activation]

[Last Intervention Available: Purification Ritual]

The four monsters looked at each other briefly. None questioned.

Because at that point, there were no more doubts.

Only stage.

And ruin.

The staircase was different.

While the rest of the city lay in ruins and smoke, the entrance to the Blind Sanctuary stood intact, as if the world itself had forgotten to destroy it. Walls black as tombstones. Gates without hinges. Symbols erased—not by time, but by regret.

Eren and his companions stopped before the sealed entrance.

[Protected Entrance — Requires Joint Affinity with Bound Creatures]

[Condition: All bonds must be active and synchronized]

Kaela touched the gate with her claw. The symbol glowed amber.

Nyssa touched the base with a strand of her body. The seal reacted with a light blue glow.

Morwynn extended an invisible strand of web that connected the edges of the arch.

Sylha... just laughed.

"Not every key has to be material, you know?" She blew an ethereal kiss toward the door.

And then, Eren placed her hand in the center.

The system vibrated in unison.

[Affinity: 100% with all bonds]

[Authorization Recognized: Anomalous Tamer]

[Door of the Blind Sanctuary – Unlocking]

The sound that came was not metallic.

It was not magical.

It was... human.

Like an ancient sigh, a sob of regret. The stone itself seemed to mourn its past. Echoes of distorted prayers escaped from the cracks. Words without language. Lamentations without an owner.

The door opened.

A dark hall awaited them.

The system did not display any text.

As if, from there on... words were unnecessary.

Eren took the first step.

The shadows swallowed him with respect.

And the others followed.

Faith would now be judged by those who never believed in dogmas — but believed in the bonds that are created in chaos.

The hall was blind.

There was no light, but everything was visible. There was no sound, but everything echoed.

The final chamber of the Order—the legendary Hall of the Blind Crown—seemed to exist outside of time. Abandoned altars, cracked columns, tapestries covered with faded symbols. In the center, a black slab supported the body of a motionless man.

Hagan.

He wore only the base of his ritual robe, his bare torso covered with runes carved with a knife. A dark iron crown surrounded his eyes. It was not blindness—it was forced blindness. A gesture of absolute devotion to faith: rejecting the visible world to see only what he believed.

He rose slowly. Tall. Calm. Dangerous.

Eren felt the walls shake, not because of magic, but because of... memory. As if the stones still echoed all the prayers made there. Whispers of crying mothers. Soldiers asking for salvation. Children praying for dead monsters.

The system reacted:

[Final Boss: Hagan – Martyr of the Blind Crown]

[Status: Terminal Fanaticism]

[State: Loss of Identity | Bound to the Eye of Blood]

[Objective: Erase Anomalous Bonds]

Eren clenched his fists.

Hagan spoke in a low voice, but one laden with steel.

"You destroyed our doctrine. You contaminated the people. You killed the apostle. But there is still time. I can still purify."

Eren took a step forward.

"You don’t want to purify. You want to erase."

Hagan bowed his head.

"Faith needs silence. Bonds like yours... are noise. They are chaos."

He raised his hand.

The air shattered.

A symbol lit up on the altar. An eye made of living blood, spinning on itself—the Eye of Blood, a lost artifact from the First Crusade. It was said that when activated, it erased spiritual bonds, reducing any creature to emotionless matter.

[Hostile Artifact: Eye of Blood Activated]

[Effect: Affinity Suppression | Direct spiritual damage to bonds]

[Risk: Maximum]

Eren’s four monsters shuddered in the background. The bond was beginning to fail. The whispers in the room tried to corrode Kaela’s essence. Nyssa’s confidence melted into doubt. Morwynn’s mental structure wavered. And even Sylha, smiling and unstable, felt a chill.

But Eren did not waver.

Because the bug was his.

He pulled everything at once.

[Translucent Web Mask – Active]

[Runic Belt – Full Flow]

[Whispering Memory Fragment – Channeling in Progress]

[Grimoire of the Eloquent Language – Refined Emotional Bond]

[Nyssa’s Affective Barrier – Expanded Emotional Shield]

[Morwynn’s Spiritual Webs – Precise Runic Fixation]

[Kaela’s Protective Impulse – Fury Instinct Activated]

[Sylha’s Emotional Illusion – Alternate Reality Injected]

[Combat Mode: Total Synchrony]

[Result: Suppression Resistance – +300%]

The runes on the ground changed color. The blood eye hesitated.

Eren took a step forward.

And spoke.

"You think bonds are weakness. But do you know what else is a bond? The dogma you serve."

Hagan advanced with abnormal speed, his feet dragging spectral energy. A flaming spear appeared in his hand—not made of metal, but of forgotten words, faith molded into destruction.

He tried to stab Eren in the chest.

But Kaela appeared like lightning, blocking the attack with her body.

Eren counterattacked with a burst of emotional fire, guided by Morwynn, focused on the base of the spear. The impact was precise. The spear broke.

Hagan screamed. Not in pain — in denial.

"I am the voice of silence!"

"And I am the answer that screams!" Eren yelled, invoking the Memory Fragment.

[Memory Fragment Reacting to the Eye of Blood...]

[Result: Paradoxical Mirroring]

The very structure of the hall faltered.

The Eye of Blood began to spin faster, out of control. Voices from the past invaded the chamber: prayers of repentant soldiers, cries of shattered faith, laughter of children who were never saved.

Eren looked at Hagan.

"You blinded yourself so you wouldn’t see the pain you caused."

He raised his hand.

Sylha’s magic spun, distorting space. Nyssa’s shield sealed the breach. Kaela’s fury made the ground shake. Morwynn anchored the bonds with invisible threads. And Eren... channeled everything into a spear of emotional light.

[Final Technique: Convergence of Bonds]

[Effect: Hostile Dogma Nullification | Critical Spiritual Rupture]

He threw it.

The spear pierced the Eye of Blood.

The artifact exploded—not in sound, but in cessation. The hall fell silent. The voices died. The runes faded.

Hagan fell to his knees.

His voice faltered.

"So... is that it? Faith... didn’t win?"

Eren stared at him with tired eyes.

"No. But fear did. And you were its face."

Hagan’s body crumbled into gray dust. A martyr without an altar.

The system whispered.

[Boss Defeated: Hagan, Last Guardian of Order]

[Purification Complete]

[Bonds: Intact and Stabilized]

[Permanent Title: Dogma Breaker]

Eren stood still for a moment.

The four monsters approached slowly.

Kaela touched his shoulder.

Nyssa cried, but smiled.

Morwynn just watched him with long, satisfied eyes.

And Sylha... spun around, singing a song she had made up.

The hall had judged.

And Eren Vale was the verdict.

The hall burned in silence.

Only ruins remained. The cracked columns trembled under the weight of ancient echoes. The Eye of Blood lay in fragments on the floor. And Hagan... was on his knees.

The leader of the Order of the Burning Eye, the guardian of dogma, the self-proclaimed martyr, trembled under the weight of something far crueler than defeat: exposure.

Eren did not speak.

Not yet.

Hagan slowly raised his face. The blind crown had fallen. His eyes, which were supposed to no longer see, searched for something in the void—faith, redemption, meaning. There was none.

"You... should destroy me," he murmured, his voice harsh. "So that everyone knows that faith does not bow without blood."

Eren took two steps forward. His hands were down, the affinity marks still pulsing beneath his skin. The four monsters watched him from the background, motionless, waiting for his verdict.

"Destroying you would be easy," he said, finally. "But you are not a threat. Nor a martyr."

Hagan opened his mouth. But there was no counterargument.

"The real punishment..." Eren continued calmly, "is that you will live. You will feel the weight of being ignored. Forgotten. You will carry the burden of being irrelevant in a world that has moved on without you."

The system flashed, reacting to the choice:

[Hagan’s Fate: Mercy Applied]

[Condition: Life Preserved — Memory of the Defeated Maintained]

[Result: Definitive Threat Suppression | Psychological Collapse Initiated]

Hagan fell completely, his face pressed against the marble. He didn’t cry. He didn’t scream. He didn’t resist. He just... accepted it.

The faith that once sustained his bones now weighed like a cross impossible to carry.

Eren turned away, without looking back.

"Goodbye, Hagan."

No epic notes. No heavenly light. Only ruins.

Upon leaving the hall, the world seemed to breathe again. The city felt—without fully understanding—that fanaticism had ended. Not by fire. Not by war.

But by exposure.

Eren had done the impossible: defeat a faith... without bowing to any.

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

The sky over Barovik was clear.

Not because of blessings. But because of the absence of dogma.

The city was slowly rebuilding itself. Citizens emerged from their homes. The streets were covered with ashes, stones, and remnants of flags. But no one cried. No one sang. It was mourning without sadness. Relief without celebration.

In the center of the square, Eren and his companions stopped.

Sylha was the first to break the silence.

She spun around in the air, opened her arms, and let out a hysterical laugh.

"I told you! I told you the ending would be beautiful!"

Kaela responded with a hoarse howl. Not one of war. But of liberation. An ancestral lament echoing off the rooftops.

Morwynn, standing beside her, merely bowed her head slightly, as if saluting a painting that had finally been completed.

Nyssa... smiled.

Fragile, timid. But with a peace she had never felt before.

Eren, in the center, said nothing. He just watched. He felt the hearts of the four beating through the Runic Belt — and felt that they were now in sync. Not out of necessity, but by choice.

The system, as always, arrived late, but accurate.

[Final Boss Defeated: Malrik]

[Hagan — Mercy Successfully Applied]

[Dogma Purification: Complete]

[Bonds Stabilized at Maximum Level]

[New Evolution Route Unlocked: Tamer of the Lost Order]

And below that:

[Hidden Reward: Choice of Path]

[Tamer of the Lost Order – Master of Spiritual Bonds]

[Deactivate System – Return to Ordinary Life]

Eren did not choose.

Not yet.

The group stood still for a few more seconds, looking at the city that had almost become a tomb.

Kaela cracked her shoulders.

Nyssa slid over until she was leaning against him.

Morwynn twirled a strand of web between her fingers, already bored.

Sylha lay down in the air, as if floating on imaginary water.

Eren let out a sigh.

"Let’s go."

They had survived fanaticism.

Now... they would need to figure out how to live after it.