Tobin's body moved before thought could catch up.
He lunged—blade high, eyes shut tight, shutting out the world, the seductive whispers that slithered from Lilimora's lips like poisoned honey.
"Oh, sweet boy," she purred, voice wrapping around his thoughts. "You've lost everything. Wouldn't it be easier to lose yourself too?"
He didn't listen.
He didn't look.
He saw only Rina's smile—and then her bloodied corpse. The sound of the knight's sword splitting her chest. The way her hand reached for him, even in death.
And Tobin roared.
The blade came down like a lightning strike, fueled by grief and fire and the raw force of will. Lilimora's smirk shattered the moment the steel bit into her flesh.
Slash.
Her body jerked, blood spraying across the marble floor. She staggered backward, a scream caught in her throat.
"No… no… I'm a General…" she gasped, falling to her knees.
Her blood—dark violet—pooled beneath her, steaming on contact with the cold ground.
As it flowed, so did her memories.
They had all laughed at her.
The Leader,
The Assassin,
The Strongest.
And her… the "pretty one."
"You seduce mortals. How cute."
"A doll in a battlefield."
"You wouldn't survive ten seconds in my domain."
She had smiled through it all. Hidden her power behind charm and elegance. Waited for the right time to prove them wrong.
But now—now, she was bleeding. Defeated by a mortal boy with nothing left to lose.
Her eyes trembled as she met Tobin's.
There was no seduction there. No fear. No pity.
Only rage.
"No… I don't want to die like this…" she whispered, fingers reaching for him. "Not like—"
Slash.
His sword silenced her.
The great Lilimora, Demon General of Desire, collapsed with a final breath.
The chains on Ryle shattered.
Thea gasped as her limbs were freed.
It was over.
---
The sun rose slowly over Cindralis, and for the first time in weeks, it wasn't red.
The corrupted fog faded. The civilians emerged, confused but alive. The guards, once slaves to charm magic, wept as memories returned.
Ryle sat atop the city wall, scribbling furiously in his notebook, his pen a blur.
"Cindralis: City of Chains Freed. A Demon General Falls."
He wrote of corruption, of succubi, of Lilimora's manipulation, of courage, grief, and the strength of three strangers who stood against despair.
Thea stood nearby, watching him with soft eyes. Her swords were sheathed, her white cloak catching the morning breeze. "You never stop working," she said gently.
"World's Strongest Journalist," Ryle replied with a grin.
But his voice quieted when he glanced at Tobin, sitting alone near the fountain, holding a tattered ribbon in his hands.
"She would've loved the sunrise," Tobin murmured, not looking up.
Thea stepped forward. "What was her name?"
"…Rina," he whispered. "She wanted to be a singer. Said she'd write a song for me when we got married."
The ribbon fluttered in the wind.
"A knight killed her," he went on. "A knight I looked up to. He was under Lilimora's spell. And I couldn't stop him."
"You did now," Ryle said, voice firm. "You avenged her."
"But she's still dead."
Ryle crouched beside him. "Then make her death mean something."
Tobin didn't answer.
---
Back at the castle, the atmosphere had shifted. Civilians walked its halls again—some fixing shattered windows, others replanting torn gardens. Guards patrolled with sober expressions, free of possession.
The Duke, released from Lilimora's grip, bowed deeply to Ryle and Thea.
"I've failed my people," he admitted, "but with guidance, I will atone. Thank you… for saving us."
Ryle didn't smile. "Save it for the people. They're the ones who suffered."
He turned, coat fluttering, and headed for the gates.
Thea followed, her hands brushing her twin blades. "Where to next?"
"Wherever the next lie needs to be burned down," Ryle replied.
As they passed the outer courtyard, he stopped.
Tobin stood there, blood-stained, tired, but with clearer eyes than before.
Ryle walked up to him.
"Most people run when they lose someone. You fought."
Tobin looked down. "I had nothing else."
"Exactly why I'm asking this now."
Ryle stepped close, eyes serious.
"Do you want to be a hero?"
Tobin blinked. "…What?"
Thea paused beside them, curious.
Ryle's voice was calm, but resolute.
"You already took the first step. But there's more. Harder roads. Bigger enemies. People who'll need someone willing to do what's right, even when it hurts."
Tobin's hands trembled.
"…I'm not strong," he said. "I just got lucky."
"You stood against a Demon General," Thea said quietly. "Luck didn't kill Lilimora. You did."
"…I don't know if I can," he whispered.
"Good," Ryle said. "Means you won't let the power go to your head."
Tobin looked up at him—young, scarred, confused.
And the world around them waited, silent.
To be continued.