Outside the shattered shell of the Iron Fortress, silence reigned in the wake of disorder. The sky was thick with dust clouds curling over the landscape like mourning veils, blanketing the battlefield in a choking haze.
Beneath the shifting gray, the world was broken—scarred and soaked in blood. The grim reality of the scene slowly revealed itself.
Cracked shields lay scattered like the husks of fallen titans. Craters pockmarked the earth, carved by impact. Limbs jutted from beneath the rubble—mangled, twisted, some still clutching the shields they'd died holding.
Many of Benny's men were gone.
Crushed. Crumpled. Reduced to silence.
Their bodies formed a line between death and the living. They hadn't run. They'd stood where no man should have.
And they'd paid for it.
Their sacrifice painted a brutal, unflinching portrait of war.
Amid the wreckage, one cluster of survivors remained. Huddled under a dome of interwoven roots, they were dust-covered and dazed but alive.
The only reason was Isabella.
She had acted without thinking—hands to the ground, instincts firing, raising a forest worth from the soil to shield them from annihilation.
The roots were infused with Dyna and had held.
Just barely.
She slowly stepped out from the dome—like a ghost parting fog. Her boots crunched against the brittle earth, and the scent of blood and iron hit her like a punch to the throat.
She scanned the field, and she saw them. Half-buried in stone. Faces pale. Eyes open. Some frozen mid-scream.
They're dead... All of them...
Men she'd known. Men she'd laughed with. Argued with. Shared meals with. Scolded. Men who'd built their lives within these walls, who held hopes of surviving this abusive world.
Gone. Now, mulch at the enemy's feet. But she didn't break. Not here. Not now.
If I stop now, their deaths are wasted. If I fall apart, everyone else dies, too...
Her fingers curled into fists.
And then—
The ground shook.
The Devils returned in a wave of snarling black fur and red eyes, trampling through the dead as if they were nothing more than stones beneath their feet.
The loss, the blood, the senseless cruelty—it burned in Isabella's veins like wildfire. But it was no longer enough to just feel it.
It needed direction.
Her next move came not from emotion but conviction.
The Devils would pay.
Every last one of them.
"Nature Manipulation... Rooting Confinement!"
She clapped her hands, and the ground split beneath the charging Devils. Roots erupted like serpents, spiraling upward in thick cords.
They wove into a towering sphere of wood and thorns, encasing the horde in a tightening prison of bark and fury. The Devils howled in rage as the sphere was sealed shut.
Isabella clapped again.
The prison convulsed—then shrank. The roots compressed. Inside, the sounds of rending bone and muffled howls marked the beginning of their end.
Die. Stay dead. Stay gone...
But they didn't. Isabella's attack wasn't enough.
The ground shook again—more Devils pouring forth like locusts with no end in sight.
How many are there...?
She conjured water from the moisture in the air, lashing it around her sword. The water rippled against her skin as she readied for another charge.
Focus. Don't hesitate. You can't afford to slow down. Not now.
A sudden gust of wind—unnaturally sharp—slammed into her side.
She didn't scream.
Her body spun midair, ribs jolting with pain as she twisted into a crouch. A root surged beneath her, breaking her fall. She landed low, rolled forward, and came up swinging.
Her sword cleaved through a Devil's torso.
That's one...
Then another.
And another.
But before the thought could finish, she felt it. The presence behind her. The impossible: Devils she had struck down seconds ago now twitching, standing, moving.
Their bones cracked as they realigned. Muscles squirmed beneath fur.
She had cut them clean. Driven her water-coated sword through their hearts. And still—still—they rose.
"What in the world…?"
Her pulse pounded behind her eyes. Her chest tightened.
I killed it them... I know I did...
Then—
BOOM.
The prison exploded behind her. A shockwave blasted across the battlefield, sending root shards and dust flying like a hundred wooden spears.
A torrent of elemental energy—fire, wind, earth, water—erupted from within the shattered sphere, vaporizing everything in its path.
They broke through? Already?
She spun again, ducking a jet of fire, her limbs aching, her body begging for pause. She sprinted to the left, slashing at another Devil closing in.
But her arms were heavy now, and her steps slower. Every breath burned her lungs.
There were too many.
I'm slowing down...
But she didn't stop.
I have to keep going... Because if I don't, everyone else here will die.
She moved like a storm collapsing in on itself. Each strike was precise. Each step was more desperate than the last.
Curtis watched from afar, chest rising fast as he saw Isabella surrounded—completely encircled.
"She can't take them all!" he shouted.
Then Isabella's voice rang out across the battlefield.
"Benny! Now!"
Benny didn't hesitate. He spun at the sound of her voice, instincts snapping into focus.
"Marco! Move! We'll cover you!"
Marco nodded. "Understood!"
He signaled the others to follow his lead.
Aeda and Aida moved fast, gliding over rubble with eerie synchronicity as they guided the survivors forward.
"Keep low and stay between us," Aeda said calmly, eyes scanning ahead.
"Don't stop, no matter what you hear," Aida added, her voice mirroring her sister's.
Behind them, Clarissa pressed Mimi close against her shoulder, shielding the cat with her body as falling debris fell from Iron Fortress.
Mimi whimpered against her chest, but Clarissa didn't flinch.
"Anyone with children—stay close to us. They're buying us time. So don't waste it. Keep moving."
The panic was thick, but Clarissa's voice cut through it—like a blade clearing smoke.
Together, the four shepherded the group away from the battlefield, their footsteps pounding over rubble as the roar of battle echoed behind them.
The sky trembled as another elemental blast nearly struck Isabella.
Curtis turned to Bryce and Arthur. "Go with them. Make sure they—"
"No way," Arthur cut in. "Not happening."
Bryce took his place beside him. "We're not running. Who do you think we are?"
Curtis sighed. He saw it in their eyes. There was no point arguing. They'd already decided. They were staying.
A heavy hand landed on Curtis's trembling shoulder. He turned to see Benny, calm but tense, his eyes locked on Isabella and the battlefield.
"We do this together," he said. "Let's go give Bella a hand."
"Yeah," Curtis replied, and together, the group charged forward into the fray.
Isabella was still fighting, Still standing. She fought like a tempest, holding her ground. Her water whip arced through the air, through the enemy ranks, cutting a Devil's arm clean off before it could lunge.
Her steps dragged, and the recoil slowed her. One foot slipped—just slightly. Her arms slowed. Her grip faltered, and her vision blurred.
So much so that she didn't see the flame rushing toward her until it was too late.
The flame came fast. Isabella didn't have time to brace.
But—
CLANG.
Two massive shields slammed into place before her. The fire burst harmlessly against them. Benny and Curtis stood their ground, lowering their guards only to nod.
Isabella, panting, nodded, and the rhythm changed.
The team pressed forward, fighting as one. Benny took the left, Curtis the right, and Isabella carved straight down the center with her blade and whip.
Theo and David slid into formation, filling the gaps, shields locked with Arthur and Bryce. The rear held steady, staffed with Benny's exhausted men who had survived the initial attack.
Strike. Block. Breathe. Move. Repeat.
The Devils met steel, water, and willpower at a brutal tempo. It was no longer a strategy. It was survival—a desperate, coordinated dance against the tide.
But the Devils didn't stop. Even worse—those that fell didn't stay down. Twitches rippled through their bodies. Limbs spasmed. Bones cracked back into place with sickening pops.
Slowly, impossibly, they began to rise again.
Benny grunted, driving his shield straight through a Devil's face. Blood splattered against his forearm.
"The head!" he shouted. "Go for the head!"
Isabella didn't waste the breath to respond.
She slashed low—then high—her sword cleaving clean through another Devil's neck. Its head hit the dirt with a bloody thud.
"You're right…" she muttered, panting. "But I can't keep this up much longer."
Another Devil charged. A blast of wind followed.
Benny stepped in without hesitation—shield raised, bracing against the force. The gale slammed into them like a wall.
He didn't budge.
"You're not alone, Bella."
"Benny, you should be leading your people." Sweat slid down her brow, stinging her eyes. "You need to get the others out. Protect the ones who made it."
Benny's eyes swept the battlefield—then returned to her, solid as stone. "If I leave now, you die. And we can't afford that."
He nodded toward the recruits—Theo, David, Curtis, Arthur Bryce—all locked in hopeless combat, shields shaking under every blow.
"They're watching you. They follow your lead. They need you alive... If you go down... Then, we all go down..."
Isabella opened her mouth—but stopped. Something in the corner of her vision made her blood turn cold.
Her heart seized.
Two Devils—low to the ground and fast—had broken from the pack. They flanked wide, sprinting behind the team, their eyes locked on the younger recruits, who were too focused on the front to notice the danger behind them.
Theo didn't see them. Neither did David or the others.
"Watch out!" Isabella screamed.
She shot a blast—frantic—but the arc of water barely formed. It fizzled midair, dispersing into mist before it even reached its mark.
Her Dyna was nearly gone.
The Devils lunged—twin blurs of muscle and claw, leaping straight for the recruits.
Too fast for Isabella to intervene.
FWOOM.
A wave of fire collided with them midair, roaring to life in a burst of heat and orange light. The Devils ignited instantly—howling as the inferno swallowed their bodies whole.
From the blaze stepped a silhouette.
Unburned. Unbothered.
Their sword flashed once—clean, silent. The Devil in front of her hit the ground in two smoldering halves.
"You really shouldn't daydream mid-battle, Bella," came the voice, smooth as silk.
Tana walked through the fire as if it weren't there. Her red, fiery hair shimmered in the heat, flames dancing along her knuckles like pets obedient to her will.
"Tana…?" Isabella muttered, stunned and breathless. "What are you doing here?"
"Oh, you know. Just thought I'd drop in," Tana replied casually, flexing her wrist.
She glanced at the burning corpse of the Devils.
"Hmm. Fire definitely works on these things. Are we done here, or…?"
Before Isabella could answer, David moved in from the rear. He crouched beside the remains, adjusting his glasses as he scanned the charred heap.
"No…" he said quietly. "This isn't all of them. I've been keeping track since we left the main hall."
He stood, brushing the soot from his palm.
"There's only twenty..."
His gaze shifted toward Theo.
"There should be ten more."
Theo turned sharply to him. "Then the rest are…"
They didn't need to speak.
Without a word, the two turned and took off, sprinting back toward the Iron Fortress.
"Wait! You two—!" Benny shouted.
But it was too late. The two boys didn't stop, vanishing into the crumbling building—into the place they'd only just escaped.
Back into the fortress and whatever fate awaited within.
Farther away—across a cratered hellscape of smoke and blaze was another battlefield, lit by fire and falling stars.
Nozomu and Pop stood back-to-back, their boots sunk deep into the ground at the eye of a storm.
Devils swarmed them like locusts, closing in from all sides. Red eyes flared through the smoke like dying embers, twitching, crawling, swarming.
The air was thick with growls and the scent of blood and ozone.
Pop's chest heaved. The blade in his hand quivered. His knees buckled. Every muscle screamed to stop. His wind attacks had dwindled to a breeze.
"I... I can't keep this up for much longer…"
Across the battlefield, Sedgwick stood atop a ridge of charred stone. His eyes glittered with savage delight, their whites gleaming too bright and too broad.
His laughter cut through the chaos like glass underfoot, and his voice dripped with madness as he watched.
"Branch! Look at them!" he crackled, gripping Branch's shoulder. "They're cornered! I win!"
But Branch didn't react. Instead, he casually dusted Sedgwick's hand off his shoulder as if flicking away lint.
"Yes, sir. I see that."
Sedgwick didn't hear the apathy. He was too busy pacing along the ridge, arms spread like a preacher before a burning pulpit.
"Once I eliminate these Wasteland scum and reclaim the Iritheum Core, those ignorant swine will have no choice but to acknowledge me!"
Sedgwick threw his hands toward the horizon.
"They'll finally see what happens when you challenge me, Section Commander Sedgwick Fullerman!"
Branch cleared his throat gently, nodding. "Indeed, sir."
Sedgwick jabbed a finger toward the field. "Go on! Finish them! I don't have all night!"
The ground trembled, and a fresh wave of Devils poured forward, snarling and snapping, claws digging into the broken earth as they charged.
BOOM.
The battlefield exploded.
A violent shockwave split the ground wide open. Stone fractured. Dust and flames surged skyward. The front line of Devils was launched into the air like leaves caught in a detonation.
At the center of the blast, a single figure rose slowly from the crater, wreathed in heat and wrapped in steam and stone.
The man stepped forward through the dust, his cloak flowing, his fist steaming from the impact. He didn't pause. He kept walking, boots crunching scorched gravel.
Pop's eyes widened. "...Evaughn!?"
"I'm not late, am I?"
"How'd you—"
"Less talking," Nozomu interrupted. "If you have enough energy to talk, you have enough energy to fight."
Pop exhaled, shaking off the tremor in his arms.
"Right… Yes, sir."
Nozomu nodded toward the corpses. "Evaughn, I'll get you up to speed. They regenerate unless the head's destroyed. Fire also seems to be the most effective. Handle it."
Evaughn nodded like he'd been waiting to hear those exact words. He cracked his knuckles and rolled his neck.
"On it."
He stepped forward, then slammed his fist into the ground.
SMASH.
The shockwave rippled outward, splitting the ground again.
Devils froze as a new rock pillar surged upward beneath their feet, launching them into the air. As Evaughn rose, magma spiraled up his arm—fluid, alive—wrapping him in glowing coils like a molten viper answering its master's call.
"Volcanic Manipulation... Magma Hammer Core!"
He reared his fist back. Then swung. The air split open, and his molten fist crashed like a falling sun. The impact slammed into the stone column, vaporizing it in a blinding explosion of magma.
The night sky turned orange. The Devils caught in the blast didn't scream. Instead, they were reduced to molten shadows.
Pop flinched, shielding his face from the wave of heat.
Beside him, Nozomu didn't flinch. His eyes stayed forward as he gave a single order.
"Stay here with Evaughn."
Pop turned toward him. "What? Wait—where are you going?"
But Nozomu was already gone.
He rose into the air like a phantom in the night, his body a blur, his cloak fluttering like smoke as he flew into the darkness.
Pop stepped forward, squinting into the sky.
There was no answer.
Only wind, heat and silence.