The silence lingered—but only for a heartbeat. Then everything changed.

King Albedo's expression twisted. The sorrow, the pleading of tears—they vanished like vapor under fire. His face darkened, lips tightening as he drew a deep breath through his nose. A faint mist, cold and spectral, curled from his mouth with each exhale—fog born not of weather, but of raw, coiling magic. His shoulders rose, his frame towering with a terrifying aura.

His eyes snapped open, glowing an unnatural, piercing blue.

"So be it, my daughter," he muttered darkly, his voice a low tremble—like thunder rumbling deep underground.

Both of his fists clenched with a hard crack, knuckles white, veins rising like cords across his skin. The air itself around him began to shudder. Tiny sparks shimmered in the space where he stood, distorting light as if the very laws of nature were protesting the power he was gathering.

From far behind, Zeon gave a low whistle.

"Whew…" he exhaled, standing leisurely behind Albedo, arms crossed as he leaned against a broken column. Despite the weight of the moment, he wore his usual cocky grin.

He tilted his head and called out across the arena, raising a brow. "Hey!"

His voice echoed through the wide space.

Then he raised a glinting object in his hand—a slender dagger, spinning delicately between his fingers. Fran's dagger.

"You forgot this."

With a flick of his wrist, he launched it high into the air.

The dagger flipped rapidly, cutting through the torchlight as it spun, its white steel flashing like a falling star.

Fran's eyes widened. She stepped forward and caught it in a reverse grip with both hands—clack—just above her head, her tail stiffening with the shock of movement. Her breathing was fast, almost panicked, but she nodded with resolve, stepping into a low stance beside Dila.

Her voice trembled. "S-Sister… don't forget I'll fight with you."

Dila didn't answer immediately. She was staring at her father, her heart pounding like war drums in her ears.

Then she closed her eyes, inhaled deeply—and summoned her Archane wand.

With a crystalline hum, the white metal rod appeared in her right hand. Magical shards began to orbit the head of the wand like slow, deliberate moons. The gentle light from the staff clashed against the oppressive darkness radiating from her father.

She glanced down at Fran and gave the faintest smirk, though her voice carried a heavy sigh.

"This… is going to be a pain in the ass."

Fran tried to smile back, but her hands were shaking.

Across the arena, Albedo didn't move. He stood still, unmoved by their preparations. His eyes glowed steadily, unblinking. His cloak drifted slightly in the night wind, though his body was completely still. The torches around him flickered, some dimming as if suffocated by his presence alone.

His face remained shadowed, unreadable, half hidden beneath the heavy weight of his own magic.

Yet he said nothing.

The battle hadn't started…

But the storm had already arrived.

Without warning—without a chant and without a word, Albedo flicked his right hand outward.

A sharp motion, as effortless as swatting away a fly.

But what followed was anything but simple.

A swirling surge of shadow burst forth from his palm. It stretched into the shape of a gigantic, translucent hand, its fingers curled like claws, made of pure, writhing darkness. The hand surged across the arena like a vengeful spirit, cracking the ground beneath it, letting out a low hum—an unnatural sound that felt like it pulled at the soul.

Dila's eyes widened.

"Earthrea!" she called, slamming the base of her staff into the ground with a sharp clang.

The earth beneath her and Fran trembled.

In a flash of light, the golem Earthrea erupted from the stone, towering and massive, its core glowing blue like a distant star. The moment it emerged, it roared deep and guttural—Growrrrrr! It stepped in front of the girls just as the dark palm slammed forward.

BOOOOM!!!

The sound shattered the silence like a war drum.

Earthrea crossed its thick arms in front of Dila and Fran, shielding them. The impact struck like a meteor.

And then…

Cracks.

A web of glowing fractures spread violently across Earthrea's body. Its blue eyes flickered. The arms that had shielded them—those giant limbs of rock and spirit—crumbled to dust almost instantly, disintegrating into shimmering particles under the weight of Albedo's dark magic.

Fran screamed, stepping back as debris flew past them.

Earthrea let out a final groan as its body fractured completely, splitting down the middle and collapsing—shattered, destroyed.

And yet…

The dark palm had been neutralized.

Its form dispersed into curling wisps of black smoke, scattered in the air like ash caught in moonlight.

The arena fell quiet again.

Fran was trembling, her hands clutching her dagger tightly. Her eyes remained fixed on where the golem had once stood—now just dust on the wind. "I-It… it destroyed it… so fast…"

Dila remained still, eyes slightly narrowed.

Her heart raced, but her expression didn't show panic, only quiet calculation.

(He… destroyed Earthrea. That easily…)

Her mind replayed the moment in slow fragments.

Last time, even when Evos—an enormous beast, had fought Earthrea at full strength, it couldn't bring it down. Not like this.

(Back then… I used Bloom Flair Chaine on Earthrea… the buff might have been the only reason it survived.)

She exhaled slowly.

Fran's legs were still trembling beside her.

Meanwhile, Albedo had not moved from his spot.

He stood calmly, his dark aura swaying in the night air. The glow of the torches lit only part of his face, leaving the rest shrouded in shadow.

His eyes.... those glowing, heartbroken blue eyes—never left Dila.

Yet not a flicker of emotion crossed his face.

No joy. No sorrow. No regret.

Only silence. Cold and unshaken.

Then Albedo finally broke it.

He stepped forward once, the echo of his heavy boots tapping against the ancient stone floor of the arena. His gaze... calm, but unrelenting fixed on Dila. The glowing blue in his eyes pulsed gently, casting a soft shimmer across his stern face.

His voice came low, steady, almost neutral—but something beneath it hinted at pride, confusion, and pain.

"Hmm… you've gotten stronger. A little," he said, almost to himself.

"You blocked my attack.. barely... with that summoning. Where did you learn it?"

His tone wasn't mocking. It was genuinely curious—half seeking answers, half mourning the distance that now stood between them.

Dila met his gaze without blinking.

Her staff lowered slightly, but her hand still trembled a bit from the earlier impact. Her silver hair, lit by the torches now blazing across the arena, shimmered faintly against the cold night breeze. The sky above was painted in deep violet, stars that already begin peeking through.

Then her lips curled, and her brows pulled together with a flicker of defiance.

"It's none of your business, old fart!" she shouted.

The words slapped harder than any spell.

Albedo's eyes twitched. Not in anger but in something more vulnerable. A tiny flinch. Like a crack forming in a mask. His shoulders stiffened. His hands once relax for a moment clenched and continued it's curled into slow fists at his sides. And yet, he said nothing. He didn't retaliate. He didn't raise his voice.

He simply… hurt.

Quietly.

Dila's words cut deeper than magic ever could.

From the edge of the arena, Zeon stood with arms crossed, his red eyes watching the exchange like a lone audience to a play no one wanted to perform.

He muttered to himself, voice laced with faint pity, "Maybe she gained it from that Berserker… the one who kidnapped her…"

The words hadn't even fully reached the air when—

"Shut up, Zeon!!"

Albedo's voice thundered across the field like a hammer strike. The ground seemed to hum for a brief moment with his fury. It wasn't just the volume—it was the sheer force of his presence that silenced everything.

Zeon blinked—caught off guard.

A breath later, his pride melted as protocol kicked in.

He dropped to one knee, lowering his head in respect, right hand pressed to his stomach, left arm behind his back in formal discipline.

"Yes… my lord," he answered, voice respectful but tired, as if he'd been expecting the backlash all along.

But behind that bowed head… Zeon's eyes narrowed slightly.

(So even now, you still flinch when it comes to her…)

The flames around the arena crackled louder for a moment, flickering against the wind.

Between them all… the silence felt louder than their words.

Then Fran she stood still, her dagger trembling slightly in her hand, the weight of its blade suddenly feeling heavier than ever. Her knees wobbled just a little, barely noticeable but it was there.

The cold wind of the open arena grazed her skin like icy fingers, and the eerie glow of the torchlights danced across her pale face, reflecting in her wide, fearful eyes. She wasn't breathing fast, but her chest was tight—like something invisible was squeezing her from within.

She didn't speak aloud.

Just a voice inside her own storming thoughts.

(Oh no… this fight… it's getting ridiculous...)

Her eyes flicked between Dila, who stood tall but visibly tense, and Albedo—who hadn't even broken a sweat. That calm, cold man who had just shattered Earthrea like a child's toy.

(I couldn't even handle that freak hero last time... And this guy.. Dila's dad—he's something else entirely… Something worse…)

She swallowed hard, heart hammering. Her tail, usually swaying playfully behind her, now curled tight and still.

(If that attack… that dark energy slap... had hit me or sister Dila directly…)

Her fingers tightened around the dagger hilt until her knuckles turned white.

(We'd be ten feet under by now… no question about it...)

Goosebumps ran all over her arms and back, her instincts screaming at her that they were completely outmatched.

She dared a glance at Dila, who stood unshaken—at least on the outside. That calm, cold expression. That silence. Fran knew her well enough now to understand that Dila wasn't just being brave…

She was preparing herself for something terrifying.

Something she didn't want to do—but felt she had no choice but to do.

Fran bit her lip, lowering her dagger a bit.

And quietly, deep in her heart, she whispered—

(Please… don't break, sister. I'm scared and i will always be by your side. Just don't break...)