The blood-colored wind still howled.

Ethan and the Bloodfiend Lord hovered in deadlock, suspended in the sky as if the world itself had stopped breathing.

The Bloodfiend Lord's gaze was glacial—like death itself peering down from above.

Since Ethan had absorbed the blood orb he'd thrown, the Lord hadn't summoned another. A flicker of unease now danced behind those pitch-black eyes, edged with caution.

Then—silence.

The wind cut off like a blade.

And in that breathless instant—

Whoosh—

A streak of gold tore through the sky.

An arrow.

It carved an impossible arc through the clouds, trailing divine fire, and slammed straight into the Bloodfiend Lord's chest.

He didn't have time to react.

Light and blood exploded from the impact, blooming into a roiling fireball at his heart.

Ethan's eyes lit with fierce resolve.

"Now."

He shot forward like lightning, the air shrieking in his wake.

In a blink, his hand was pressed to the Bloodfiend Lord's forehead.

BOOM—

Power surged like a dam bursting.

Golden energy poured from Ethan's palm, flooding into the Bloodfiend Lord's body—ripping, burning, annihilating.

The towering figure convulsed violently. Skin split. Bloodflames erupted in wild, uncontrolled jets.

And then—he collapsed.

The once-mighty form crumpled into a pulsing mass of flesh and blood, twitching faintly like something half-alive.

Ethan didn't hesitate.

He raised his hand. A single point of light flared at his fingertip.

The mass detonated.

Light and blood scattered like meteor shards, but the core—the densest, most potent fragment of energy—was drawn straight into Ethan's body.

The air rippled.

He closed his eyes.

Inside him, the power churned—fusing, reshaping, devouring and rebuilding.

His bones felt like they were being reforged. His blood burned like molten gold.

Every energy channel in his body rewove itself, tighter, stronger.

When he opened his eyes again—

The world had changed color.

His presence no longer belonged to the mortal realm.

Far below, the battlefield still raged.

Fairy and Bloodfiend forces clashed in a storm of light and shadow, their collisions echoing like a thousand thunderclaps.

But then—something shifted.

A strange pulse rippled outward from Ethan's body.

It wasn't just power.

It was order.

A new dominion.

The moment it swept across the battlefield, every Fairy turned their gaze skyward—

And saw him.

The figure suspended in the heavens.

The golden dragon coiled behind him, blazing like a second sun.

And below him, the Bloodfiend Lord—reduced to ash in the light.

For a long moment, the Fairy host was silent.

Then someone roared.

Then another. And another.

Wings of light unfurled in unison, forming a vast tide of gold.

"For our world—!"

They surged forward.

The sky ignited.

Black flame and golden radiance collided, tearing a rift through the heavens itself.

The tide had turned.

At last.

On the battlefield, blood and light blurred into one.

The Bloodfiends' roars faded into the smoke. The monsters that had once made the world tremble now lay broken and charred, their bodies crumbling into ash.

The Fairies stood among the ruins.

They had won.

But no one cheered.

A strange silence hung in the air, heavy and wrong.

Many of the Fairies were glowing—not with victory, but with a flickering red light.

The Bloodfiend energy still coursed through them, clashing with their native spirit-light.

Light and blood, locked in a war inside their bodies.

Some dropped to their knees, writhing in pain.

Others screamed, clawing at their own skin.

And some simply dissolved into dust—gone before they could even cry out.

"Damn—" Ethan's heart lurched.

He shot back toward the battlefield, eyes sweeping across the chaos of light and pain below.

Both hands extended, and the power of the Fey Sovereign surged from within him.

Golden threads spilled from his fingertips, weaving through the air like a net of light, threading through every writhing, broken figure on the ground.

It wasn't an attack.

It was a mending.

The light stitched together the clashing forces inside each Fairy—binding spirit-light and Bloodfiend energy, coaxing them into balance. Bodies that had been moments from collapse began to still.

The wind fell silent.

Only the soft hum of flowing light remained.

Ethan hovered above it all, arms open, golden radiance streaming from his body to the earth below, touching every anguished soul.

Minutes passed.

The Fairies' ragged breathing began to steady. The wild flickers of red dimmed. Their light settled into something calmer, something whole.

Ethan finally drew the power back into himself, exhaling slowly.

He looked down at the lives he'd just pulled back from the edge—his expression unreadable, caught between relief and something heavier.

Then came the sound.

A soft rustle, like leaves in wind.

One by one, the Fairies dropped to their knees.

With a quiet shimmer, they released their life sigils—glowing runes that floated into the air like fireflies, circling Ethan in a slow, reverent orbit.

"Long live the Master!"

The cry rose in waves, echoing like surf across the battlefield.

Ethan froze for a moment, stunned.

Then he slowly raised his hand.

He didn't refuse.

Golden light flowed from his palm, merging with each of the runes in turn.

A silent pact was sealed.

These Fairies—once the gentlest of all races, whose songs could coax flowers to bloom and whose breath could revive dying trees—now bore bloodstained wings.

There was no going back to that peaceful world.

Their future was war.

Ethan understood that.

And he accepted it.

Over the next few days, he traveled the shattered remains of the world, seeking out every surviving Fairy.

To each, he offered the same pact.

To each, he gave a portion of the Fey Sovereign's power.

By the time he was done, a golden-red army had gathered behind him—radiant, disciplined, and terrifying.

They were a storm made flesh.

The fusion of light and blood had forged them into something new—something strong enough to shake mountains.

Ethan stood above them, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

"With you at my back," he murmured, "even Sky Citadel should start to tremble."

But just as he turned to leave, the ground shuddered beneath him.

A deep rumble rolled in from the distant mountains—low, primal, like something ancient stirring in its sleep.

BOOM—

A volcano erupted.

Molten rock spewed into the sky, a pillar of fire and fury.

A surge of raw energy blasted outward, so intense that even Ethan's brow furrowed.

He shot into the sky, a streak of lightning, and hovered high above the inferno.

Below, in the heart of the volcano, he saw it—

An egg.

It floated in the lava, untouched by the heat, pulsing with a slow, steady rhythm.

Its shell shimmered with crimson-gold veins, glowing faintly with each tremor—like a heartbeat.

Ethan's eyes narrowed.

He raised a hand.

Golden light wrapped around the egg, lifting it gently from the molten sea and into his waiting palm.

...