The air was thick with the stench of blood and burnt earth, so heavy that every breath scraped down Luca's throat like sand. The flicker of torchlight from the cultists' hands twisted their shadows into grotesque shapes on the cave walls, like demons ready to pounce. Somewhere, water dripped steadily—a hollow, mocking rhythm to count down their last moments.

Luca's back was pressed to the cold stone, his body screaming with wounds, yet the pain was drowned out by the sheer certainty pressing down on him. There was no escape. Not this time.

"So… are we really gonna die, huh?" His voice was low, almost casual, but the strain in it was undeniable.

Celestia's lips trembled. Her usually bright golden eyes were dulled by guilt. "I–I'm really sorry… I knew what could happen to me. Still… I took the risk."

From the shadows, the five cultists laughed in that sickening, chittering way that made the skin crawl.

"Jijijijieiejiejie… is this the famous lovers' talk?"

"Jijijijieiejie… they're gonna die anyway. What should we do with the woman?"

But neither Luca nor Celestia seemed to hear them. Their words were only for each other, their voices forming a fragile bubble against the suffocating darkness.

"I… I can explode myself," Celestia said, her voice shaking. "You… go on my phoenix. Take the baby dragon."

"There's no way I'm leaving," Luca shot back, his voice firm despite the despair clawing inside him. "We can send out the baby dragon with your phoenix… and—" he hesitated, "c-can we send my Kunpeng away as well?"

Celestia nodded, but her expression stayed tight, unsatisfied, her eyes darting to his as if searching for something. Then she caught sight of the bitter smile tugging at his lips.

"Why are you smiling?" she asked, almost offended at the sight of it in such a moment.

"I was just thinking…" Luca's gaze softened, "I finally pulled off Moonslayer… and I didn't even get to ask you for a favor."

Her eyes widened, then, despite herself, a faint smile curved her lips. "Hmph. If we get out of here alive… I'll do anything. Any favor."

Luca chuckled at that, but it wasn't joy—it was the laugh of a man who knew promises like that were meant for a future that would never come. Well, I guess this life is over too, huh?

But still… what a life it had been compared to the dull haze of being Kian. In this world, I have made friends. I had a family that cared. Someone who… maybe liked me. I wasn't that timid shadow anymore. And yet… I really don't want to die.

Celestia moved then, summoning the baby dragon, its tiny form trembling before curling up in exhaustion. Luca's gaze lingered on her, drinking in every detail of her face as though trying to etch it into memory. She murmured something softly to her phoenix, the great bird's feathers glowing faintly in the dark, before he too summoned his Kunpeng, the smaller form still in its slumber.

Tears burned in Luca's eyes as the phoenix took flight, carrying their precious cargo into the darkness above.

"Hey, where's that bird going?" one cultist sneered.

"Let it go," another replied coldly. "We have what we need right here."

One stepped forward with a twisted grin. "Jijijijiwiejieji…"

Celestia's hand reached for Luca's, her grip warm despite the blood slicking their fingers.

"Let's close our eyes," he murmured. "It'll be easier."

So they sat there, bloodied and battered, leaning against each other as if they could block out the world with that single connection. Waiting for the blade. Waiting for the end.

I'm calmer than I thought I'd be… maybe because I've already died once.

But the killing blow never came.

…Is it over already?

Then—

Kyaaaaayayaa!

A piercing screech ripped through the cavern, sharp enough to make the cultists flinch.

Luca's eyes flew open, and his pupils constricted as recognition slammed into him.

Isn't this…?

Luca's breath caught as he scanned the ten figures before them, their auras so immense they seemed to bend the very air. The pressure was suffocating yet oddly reassuring—like a storm that had chosen not to crush him. The five cultists who had been attacking them were nowhere to be seen—likely reduced to ash and dust under these people's overwhelming power.

One of the strangers turned, and Luca's eyes widened.

That emblem…isn't it the same one that I saw on those corrupted humans, before coming here? But how is this possible?

Beside him, Celestia's grip on his hands loosened, her usual unshakable stance softening just slightly. The phoenix, sensing the change, swooped down and settled beside her, its burning feathers dimming to a calm, protective glow.

"They're injured badly. Give them potions," one of the men commanded, his voice steady but carrying a weight of authority that made even the wind seem to obey.

A tall man stepped forward and knelt, his movements practiced and swift. Without asking, he tilted Luca's chin up and poured the cool, bitter liquid into his mouth, then did the same for Celestia.

Warmth spread through Luca's body almost instantly, knitting flesh, sealing wounds, and banishing the ache from his bones. He touched his side in disbelief—where moments ago there had been a deep gash, now only smooth, unbroken skin remained.

"Thank you so much for your grace, sir," Luca managed, still catching his breath.

The old man in front let out a hearty laugh. "Hahaha! Don't worry, young man—you did well."

Luca's fingers tightened instinctively around the hilt of his saber, ready to leap back into the fight. But the old man raised a hand.

"No need," he said firmly, his eyes glinting. "The situation is already under control."

Luca and Celestia exchanged a wary glance, but when they turned to look, their tension melted into disbelief.

The battlefield had transformed. Scores of mages stood in formation, their spells flashing like lightning against the darkness, while colossal beasts tore through the remaining cultists. The enemy was being driven back, crushed without mercy.

"We are the reinforcements," the old man explained, pride in his voice. "Two more commanders have arrived. Now… just watch as we slaughter this trash."

With that, the group moved out, joining the frontlines in a wave of unstoppable force.

For a moment, Luca and Celestia stood in silence, the chaos below now feeling strangely distant. They shared a look—part disbelief, part relief, and maybe even the faintest hint of gratitude.

Not dead. Not yet.

They quickly retrieved the baby dragon and Kunpeng, returning them to the safety of their beast space.

"Let's oversee the situation from the phoenix," Luca said, already moving toward the great bird.

Celestia nodded once, her eyes still fixed on the battle below, before stepping up beside him. Together, they mounted the phoenix, its wings unfurling in a flare of golden flame as it carried them high above the fray.

As Luca and Celestia soared above the battlefield on the phoenix, the carnage spread beneath them in sickening clarity. The cultists were being driven back—human forces striking with a vengeance that felt almost feral. Somewhere in the distance, Santos's screams twisted through the air, raw with agony. Rolph was no longer alone; two more commanders fought beside him, cutting through enemies like scythes through wheat.

But Luca's eyes found something far worse than the clash of steel.

The village square, where laughter and warm food had once filled the air, was now a graveyard. Bodies lay crumpled where they'd fallen. The two children he'd seen sparring with wooden swords days ago—now broken and still. The woman who had begged for medicine for her child… lay sprawled in the dirt, eyes glassy. The child was gone.

The victories below meant nothing. The weight in his chest pressed until he could hardly breathe.

A firm hand gripped his. Celestia stood beside him, gaze fixed ahead. Her face was its usual mask of regal calm, yet the silent contact anchored him—reminded him to stay standing when the urge was to collapse.

And just then...the world changed.

No warning. No build-up.

The air ruptured.

A sound—too sharp, too wrong—slammed into them, rattling their bones. Luca's vision jolted white, and his hands flew to his ears. Celestia did the same, her composed stance breaking for the first time. Above them, reality itself split apart, a jagged wound tearing across the heavens.

The battlefield froze—every soldier, every beast—staring upward as if their minds refused to accept what they were seeing.

Then it came.

Not a voice—something heavier. A presence. A pressure that crushed the air from their lungs before the words even formed. And when they did, they were drenched in madness:

"Hahahahahaha! My master… the Devil Emperor… is here!"

The laugh didn't echo—it devoured.