—TRUM!

Dahila smiled faintly, tilting her head back toward the endless sky of the Soul Sea. Above her, galaxies churned with massive dust clouds — a storm of nebulae that pulsed with Asher's emotions.

They writhed restlessly, volatile and unstable. Some condensed into burning knots, others unraveled into thin veils of color. But one shade reigned above all others—

Red.

Dahila tilted her head back, her lips curling into a smile.

"How beautiful," she murmured, standing gracefully from her seat.

Ripples spread across the mirror-like waters of the soul sea, each of her footsteps slicing the surface as she walked. The sound of water slapping against water echoed strangely in the infinite silence, as though the sea itself recoiled from her approach.

Above, the half-blackened star flickered violently. Its shadowed side deepened into an abyssal black, while its light sputtered like a dying flame.

""Perhaps it's time to let loose a little," she murmured, yawning lazily as her pale fingers stretched toward the sky.

The ground trembled beneath its watery skin, sending concentric waves outward into infinity. The core pulsed. Darkness thickened.

—BANG!

The surface erupted. Water geysered upward as if something had shattered the world beneath. Thunder rolled across the horizonless plane, droplets crashing down like shards of glass.

When the waves settled, the waters were no longer clear. They ran red.

Dahila lowered her gaze. Her hand was gone—shorn away as though erased from existence. Bloodless. Hollow.

She lifted the ruined limb, studying it in silence. Then her gaze rose back to the nebulae, her smile returning in something far too gentle.

"…So. A warning."

Her voice was calm, almost affectionate.

Time itself bent to her whim. The severed flesh and bone coalesced from nothing, reforming with delicate precision. Veins reknit, sinew fused, skin closed. In a breath, her hand was whole again.

She flexed her fingers idly, then gave a languid shrug.

"That's enough for now."

Her crimson eyes sharpened, catching the light of the storm above.

"Show me what you've got, my epigone."

***

The crowds whispers were too loud. No.. In fact, everyone seemed restless.

"Did the Lady just utter a True Name?"

"That's Saint Zerei's True Name?"

"How..."

"I can't believe it."

No one bothered to hide their shock as Gunlaug simply looked at Asher for a second.

"That is indeed surprising I must say..." He finally voiced, but then, he sighed, rolling his massive shoulders, golden sparks flickering briefly across his frame.

"A shame. The world will soon lose two fine talents."

He flexed his shoulders and said, his voice sending shivers into the hearts of hundreds of people gathered in the hall:

"Alright. I accept your challenge."

The words had barely left his lips before the floor shuddered. A concussive gust exploded outward as Gunlaug stepped forward, the sheer force of his presence pressing down like an avalanche.

Asher's jaw locked. Pain shot up his arm—his wrist wasn't broken, but sprained badly. Worse: his opening strike hadn't even scratched the Bright Lord's echo.

Gunlaug exhaled slowly, disappointment dripping from every syllable.

"Weak."

Asher twisted aside at the last instant, the edge splitting strands of his hair., taking controlled breaths as he tried to maintain his cool.

He landed in a crouch, sparks flaring between his palms. With a snap of will, the [Azure Blade] ignited in one hand, and [Cicada's Cry] shimmered into the other.

The Bright Lord, however, didn't show the similar sparks, rather, the liquid gold flowed forward and assumed the shape of a heavy battle axe, which Gunlaug then grasped and leisurely put on his shoulder.

"I don't need memories to squash a worm like you."

Asher didn't answer. He flicked the Azure Blade into the air, letting it spin above him.

The Bright Lord was already there, materializing in front of him with monstrous speed. The axe descended like a guillotine, inches from splitting him in two.

Time slowed.

In the polished gleam of the blade, Asher saw himself—hollow eyes, dead calm, scanning every angle, every twitch of muscle, every flaw in Gunlaug's stance.

Sunny's brows raised before narrowed his eyes. He recognized those eyes. The very same eyes both Nephis and Caster possessed. Eyes that scanned and calculated the quickest way to kill someone.

"Murder Math." he muttered.

Asher shifted his weight onto his right foot, body tilting with surgical precision. His heel struck the floor—hard. The impact shifted Gunlaug's balance forward.

An opening.

The Azure Blade fell. Asher's hand snapped up, seizing the hilt mid-air. He swung it down with the force of a thunderclap, blade screaming against golden armor.

Gunlaug's body jolted, slung forward a step.

Asher didn't stop. His boot slammed against the Bright Lord's torso, forcing weight down. Gravity roared in answer to his will, pressing with crushing intensity.

Gunlaug gritted his teeth, his frame barely budging.

But Asher's assault wasn't finished. In the same motion, he coiled [Cicada's Cry] around Gunlaug's throat. His arms strained, crimson streaking down his palms as the Dao cut into his flesh. Veins bulged along his neck as he pulled, gravity sharpening his grip into a strangler's vise.

His leg pressed down harder, his jaw clenched so tight blood welled between his teeth.

He didn't need to shatter the echo. He didn't need to kill the man's essence.

He just needed to break his neck.

The Bright Lord wasn't budging.

The people around looked with awe and shock. Their Lord... was being stepped on by the Saint

Sunny looked on with a cold sweat breaking in his temple.

Asher…

What he was doing wasn't just impressive. It was terrifying. It was impossible.

But… if Cassie's prophecy was true…

He looked at Nephis as she matched his gaze. He gulped as she nodded grimly.

She knew as well...

His throat tightened as he gave a small, grim nod.

She knew. She had always known.

Sunny's stomach churned. He would have to act. He would have to intervene.

He would have to kill Gunlaug—before Gunlaug killed Asher.

His focus snapped forward.

—CRASH!

Gunlaug's golden echo flared violently as he tore himself free of Asher's trap. The Bright Lord retaliated in a blur, liquid gold hardening into a longsword that carved through the air like judgment itself.

Asher twisted—too late.

A shallow cut blossomed across his chest, crimson staining his armor .

The Living Suit constricted around the wound, tightening, sealing—but his expression did not change. His hollow eyes remained fixed

Gunlaug let out an audible laugh.

A second later, the sound of muffled groans could be heard escaping from the mouths of hundreds of people. The psychic pressure emanated by the Bright Lord suddenly increased manyfold, throwing some people to the ground and making others stagger. Sunny saw blood flowing from people's noses, eyes, and mouths.

Sunny's vision blurred from the pressure, bile rising in his throat. His shadow writhed at his feet.

That was the Bright Lord's special gift. The crushing mental tyranny of his echo.

And Asher… was the eye of that storm.

He stood firm. His body trembled, blood seeping from his nose, his eyes running crimson, but his grip never faltered. Cicada's Cry screeched in his hand, its invisible note gnawing at Gunlaug's skull. Steel clashed again, sparks exploding as Asher parried the Bright Lord's next strike with bone-grinding force.

And again.

And again.

The blows rained down without mercy.

Gunlaug laughed between strikes, his voice booming:

"Ah… so this is it? You with your cursed noise, me with my mind? We cancel each other out, Saint. What a pathetic balance!"

The floor splintered as their weapons collided, each impact threatening to shatter the very hall.

Asher's breathing grew ragged. His eyes flickered toward the Azure Blade.

'Dahila.'

His jaw clenched. He ducked as a golden dagger slashed past his cheek, warm blood trailing down his skin.

'Dahila.'

The blade remained still.

No response.

Asher's expression hardened, bitterness clouding his gaze.

'…She left me a hand.'