Outside the crumbling Iron Fortress, a dust cloud engulfed the surroundings—the aftermath of the relentless bombardment of massive boulders.
As the haze began to settle, the grim reality of the scene slowly revealed itself: shattered shields lay strewn like discarded armor of fallen titans, the ground itself cracked and bleeding, soaked in blood.
Mangled bodies, some barely recognizable, were crushed beneath the stones, limbs twisted at impossible angles.
Many of Benny's men had met their end beneath the weight of the merciless boulders—their last breaths spent shielding others, standing their ground where no man should have.
Their sacrifice painted a brutal, unflinching portrait of war. Yet, amid the carnage and destruction, a cluster of survivors remained—huddled together underneath an earthen dome of interwoven roots.
Isabella had acted in the blink of an eye, summoning a forest's worth of roots to coil around the vulnerable, shielding them from certain death.
The dome had held, but barely.
As the last of the dust cleared, Isabella stepped forward, her boots crunching the brittle ground.
The scent hit her first: ash and blood. It filled the air, leaving a bitter taste in her mouth.
She scanned the field, and her eyes fell on the faces of Benny's half-buried workers under the rubble. Some died, frozen mid-scream, others with their eyes wide open.
They're dead... All of them...
Some were faces she knew. Men whose names she could name. Laughed with. Scolded. Men who'd built their lives within these walls, who held hopes of surviving this abusive world.
But now, they were mulch at the enemy's feet.
If I stop now, their deaths are wasted. If I fall apart, everyone else dies, too.
The Devils rushed forward like a tide, undeterred by the carnage. Their monstrous shapes stalked over the corpses, crushing bone as if it were leaves beneath their weight.
Her fingers curled into fists.
The loss, the blood, the senseless cruelty—it burned in her veins like wildfire. But it was no longer enough to just feel it.
It needed direction.
Her gaze sharpened, locking onto the incoming horde. Her next move came not from emotion but conviction.
They would pay.
Every last one of them.
"Nature Manipulation... Rooting Confinement!"
Her palms collided with a thunderous clap.
Roots erupted upward like serpent pillars, weaving together from beneath the fractured battlefield. They tore through stone, snarling together into a massive cage.
A prison.
The Devils howled in fury as the living wood wrapped around them, dragging them into its tightening core. The howls echoed and were cut short as the sphere was sealed shut.
Inside, the sounds of rending bone and muffled howls marked the beginning of their end.
Isabella clapped again—forceful, final.
The sphere convulsed. Creaked. Compressed. Crushed.
Die. Stay dead. Stay gone.
But it wasn't enough.
The ground shook again—more Devils pouring forth like locusts with no end in sight. Isabella met them with her liquid rope-javelin, summoning water from the moisture in the air and wrapping it tight around her blade.
Focus. You can't afford to slow down. Not now.
A sudden gust of wind—unnatural, razor-sharp—slammed into her side.
She didn't scream.
Her body twisted midair from the force of the blast, ribs aching, the world spinning. But her boots landed hard on a root that rose to meet her, steadying her. She crouched and sprang forward—one smooth motion.
Her sword met flesh.
A Devil's torso separated from its legs.
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 killed seconds ago now twitching, standing, moving.
She had cut them clean. Driven her water-coated sword through their hearts. And still—still—they rose.
"What in the world…?" she muttered, breathless.
Her pulse pounded behind her eyes. Her chest tightened.
And then—
BOOM!
The prison behind her exploded.
A thunderous shockwave of pure, chaotic force ripped across the battlefield, sending splinters of the wooden prison and dust scattering through the air like a hundred spears.
Fire. Earth. Wind. Water. Bursts of elemental fury tore through her carefully built cage, shredding it instantly.
They broke through? All of them? Already?
She spun again, ducking a jet of fire, her limbs aching, her body begging for pause.
Every breath burned.
There were too many.
I'm slowing down...
But she didn't stop.
I have to keep going... Because if I stop now, everyone will die.
From a distance, Curtis watched, eyes wide with dread as Isabella fought alone—her body swallowed in smoke and flame, surrounded on all sides by Devils.
Her strikes were fast. Surgical. But there were too many.
"She can't take them all!" he shouted.
Then Isabella's voice rang out, sharp and commanding through the chaos. "Benny!"
He spun at the sound of her voice, instincts snapping into focus.
"Get moving! We'll cover you!" Benny barked to Marco, already gesturing toward the survivors.
Marco didn't hesitate. "Understood!"
Aeda and Aida followed behind Marco, guiding the panicked survivors away. Clarissa, holding Mimi tightly against her chest, stayed close behind, her eyes darting between the crumbling terrain and the terrified children clinging to their parents.
Together, the four shepherded the group away from the battlefield, their footsteps pounding over rubble as the roar of battle echoed behind them.
The air shifted—pressure tightening like a vise. Another elemental blast slammed into the ground nearby, shaking the ground.
Curtis turned to Bryce and Arthur. "Go with them. Make sure they get away."
But Bryce shook his head. "No way. Not happening."
"We're not running," Arthur added, stepping beside Bryce. "Who do you think we are?"
Curtis sighed. He saw it in their eyes. There was no point arguing.
He gave a single nod.
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're all in this together. Let's go give her a hand."
Curtis nodded, and together, the group charged forward into the fray.
Isabella fought like a tempest. She was still 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.
But exhaustion dragged at her heels. Her movements were slowing. Her shoulders dipped lower with each swing. Her breaths came sharper, harder.
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.
Then—
CLANG!
Two massive shields slammed into place in front of her.
The flames exploded harmlessly against them. Benny and Curtis stood firm, lowering their guards only to nod.
Isabella, panting, nodded back—and the fight resumed.
The rhythm shifted.
They fought as one. Benny held the left flank, Curtis anchored the right, and Isabella carved a path straight through the center.
Theo and David filled the gaps, their shields locked with Arthur and Bryce as they pushed forward, step by grueling step. Behind them, the remaining workers blocked the rear.
Strike. Parry. Repeat.
The Devils met steel, water, and willpower in a brutal rhythm. It was no longer a formation. It was survival. A desperate, coordinated dance against the tide.
But the Devils didn't stop.
Even worse—those that fell began to twitch, their limbs spasmed. Their bones cracked. Slowly, they began to rise again.
Benny grunted, smashing a Devil's face with his shield. "Looks like the head's the key. Aim for it!"
Isabella slashed low, then high—cleaving through another Devil. "Right… but I don't know how long I can keep this up."
"You're not alone, Bella," Benny said simply, stepping before her to block a wind blast with his shield.
"You should be with your people—protecting the ones that escaped. Take the others and go," she countered, sweat dripping down her face.
Benny didn't flinch. His eyes swept the battlefield, then landed on her with firm conviction.
"If I leave you now, you die, Bella. And we can't afford that."
He jerked his chin toward the others—Theo, David, Curtis, Arthur, and Bryce—locked in battle.
"They're looking to you to guide them. They need you alive. We all do."
Before she could answer, something caught her attention.
Her heart dropped.
Two Devils had broken from the ranks, flanking wide—sprinting straight toward the young recruits. Theo and the others were focused ahead, unaware of the danger behind them.
"Watch out!" Isabella screamed.
She snapped her whip—but it flickered weakly. The water barely extended a few feet before dispersing. Her Dyna was nearly gone.
The Devils leapt, claws outstretched.
Then—
FWOOOM!
A wave of fire swallowed them midair. The Devils roared, their bodies igniting in an instant.
From the flames stepped a shadow, her blade slicing through the last Devil in a single clean strike.
"You really shouldn't daydream during battle, Bella," said Tana, walking through the inferno untouched, her hair glinting in the firelight.
"Tana…?" Isabella blinked, stunned and breathless. "What are you doing here?"
"Oh, you know. Just thought I'd drop in," Tana replied casually, raising her hand as flames danced along her knuckles. "Hmm, fire seems to work. Is that all of them?"
David stepped forward from the rear line, crouching beside a pile of burning corpses. His glasses glinted as he counted.
"No… this isn't all of them. I've been keeping track since we left the main hall."
He stood, brushing ash from his hand. "Only twenty. There should be ten more."
Theo turned sharply to him. "Then the rest are…"
David met his gaze.
They didn't need to speak.
Theo's expression changed in an instant. "Dawn..."
David nodded.
Without a word, the two turned and took off, sprinting back toward the Iron Fortress—toward the crumbling building and whatever fate awaited within.
"Wait! You two—!" Benny shouted.
But it was too late.
They didn't stop, vanishing inside of the Iron Fortress.
Farther away—on another battlefield lit by ash, fire, and falling stars—Nozomu and Pop stood back-to-back, boots sunk deep into the cratered ground.
Devils swarmed from all directions, red eyes gleaming through the smoke like dying embers.
Pop's chest heaved. His wind attacks sputtered—barely gusts now. His knees buckled. Every muscle screamed to stop.
"I—I can't keep this up…" he muttered, the blade in his hand shaking.
Across the battlefield, Section Commander Sedgwick stood atop a ridge of charred stone. His eyes glittered with savage delight. His voice dripped with madness as he watched on.
"Branch! Look at them!" he cackled, gripping Branch's shoulder. "They're cornered! I win!"
Branch gave a nonchalant shrug and casually dusted Sedgwick's grasp off his shoulder as if flicking away lint.
"Yes, sir. I can see that."
"Now, all those ignorant swine will have no choice but to acknowledge me once I eliminate this Wasteland filth and reclaim the Iritheum Core!"
Branch cleared his throat discreetly before replying, "Indeed, they will, sir."
"They'll finally see... what happens when they challenge me!" Sedgwick threw an arm forward. "I don't have all night! Hurry up and kill them!"
The ground trembled as the final wave of Devils rushed forward.
Then—
BOOM!
A deafening explosion ruptured into the battlefield. The ground split open. Dust and flame roared skyward as a massive crater bloomed in the center of the oncoming horde.
Devils were hurled into the air like ragdolls.
From the heart of the impact, a single figure rose—slowly, deliberately—wreathed in heat and stone.
The man stepped forward through the dust, his cloak flowing, his fist steaming. He looked up, expression calm as ever.
Pop's eyes widened. "...Evaughn!?"
"I'm not late, am I?"
Pop blinked. "How did you—"
"Less talking," Nozomu interrupted. "If you have enough energy to talk, you have enough energy to fight."
Pop grinned. "Yes, sir."
Nozomu turned to Evaughn. "I'll get you up to speed. They regenerate unless the head's destroyed. Fire is the most effective on them. Use that."
Evaughn nodded like he'd been waiting to hear those exact words. He cracked his knuckles, then flexed his neck with a slow roll of his shoulders.
"Yes, sir."
He slammed his fist into the ground.
The shockwave blasted outward, splitting the ground again as a dozen Devils were launched sky-high. Evaughn shot into the air, riding a column of stone that rose beneath him.
Magma coiled up his arm like a viper answering its master's call.
"Volcanic Manipulation... Magma Hammer Core!"
He reared back.
Then swung.
The air split open, and his molten fist crashed like a falling star. The impact slammed into the stone column, vaporizing it in a blinding explosion of magma.
The night sky turned orange.
Devils were reduced to molten shadows.
Pop flinched, shielding his face from the wave of heat.
Beside him, Nozomu gave a single order. "Pop, stay with Evaughn."
"What?" Pop replied. "Where are you going?"
But Nozomu was already moving.
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.
No answer.
Only silence.