There was no sound of victory left as the night grew late, only the clinking of ruins and the sighs of despair from those who remained. In the dry plains between Gaia, Oda, and Earth, the last three kingdoms now resembled floating islands in a sea of destruction—its boundaries eroded by the wild waves of Tiamat's magic.
At the heart of Gaia, Iris Gaia knelt at the ancient altar, her hands trembling as pain radiated from her abdomen throughout her body. "I can't... not like this," she whispered, her voice barely audible in the chilling silence of the night. The fetus in her womb kicked gently, as if sensing her fear. Her longing for the peaceful past, when smiles could be found on the faces of her people, now felt like a wound that would not heal. The palace walls were cracked, telling tales of destruction, and the world trees that once shaded the Sanctuary had turned into charred pillars, wilted and broken by the power of the ancient dragon. "What will happen to them? Can I save them?" she thought, tears streaming down her cheeks.
Iris closed her eyes, hearing faint voices—not just Joanna's or Mitsuyori's, but also the whispers of the spiral blood within her. In the painful silence, each contraction reminded her of the small moments of happiness that once existed, when she and Fitran laughed under the moonlight. Now, she saw flashes of blue-purple light, and amidst the pain, Fitran's face appeared, her father who now existed only as a shadow in her heart. "Protect this child…," Iris's inner voice trembled, "even if the whole world must burn." That voice, though weak, felt as strong as the fire igniting her soul.
The guardians lined up to protect the altar, some still believing in the ancient magic of Gaia. With fading hope in their eyes, they united in a sincere wish—though that hope was dwindling. Yet every spell they recited shattered before reaching the air. Tiamat's magic had broken all rules—reality itself refused to be bound. The remaining people began to kneel in despair, pleading for safety from anyone willing to listen. "We are not ready to end like this," whispered someone in the crowd, their voice filled with fear. "What else can we do but hope?"
On the other side, Oda Nobuzan—with disheveled hair, labored breaths, and determined red eyes—struggled to withstand the same contractions. She leaned against the crumbling castle wall, her body covered in wounds and dust, yet her resolve never waned. There was a deeper pain than her physical wounds, a guilt that enveloped her heart, shadowing every step she took. Since the last war, Nobuzan had sacrificed everything: her title, her army, even part of her soul. Now, she had only one goal: to give birth to Fitran's child, no matter the cost. "This must end with us, a little for the future," she sighed, as if speaking to the shadow of Fitran that always accompanied her through every night of suffering.
Every night, nightmares haunted her: Tiamat appeared in the form of a woman crowned with the fragments of the world, gripping her womb with a thousand cold hands. Nobuzan broke into a cold sweat, feeling old wounds in her body reopen, blood flowing with the uncontrollable spiral magic. "Why do you always come to haunt me?" she hissed into the darkness, a question that would remain unanswered; as if her heart's voice was trapped in the cold night wind.
Mitsuyori, with her increasingly fragile illusion magic, tried to conceal Nobuzan's presence. Her voice trembled, "We must go, Nobuzan! They are hunting not just us, but everyone we love!" But Tiamat's power was too great—every illusion seemed to be inhaled by the dragon, shattered by the cruel laughter from behind the fog. "Fool! I will not go anywhere until this child is born!" Nobuzan retorted, her heart trembling between fear and hope. Nobuzan grasped the family heirloom, took a deep breath, and promised herself: "I will not let anyone touch my child, even if I have to sacrifice all of Oda."
In Earth, no king remained. The last palace fell silently; its walls consumed by black spirals and the fog of death. The remaining people chose to flee to the forests or mountains, leaving behind their weapons and history. In confusion and despair, they whispered to each other, "What has happened to our land? Why is this happening?" Their voices were barely audible, drowned in the suffocating silence that enveloped the ruins. Some of the survivors fell into madness—they dreamed of dragons with a thousand eyes, mouths full of fangs, and a world returning to the primordial waters. "We just want to live," they murmured, pleading with the dark sky.
Earth's magic, once the main defense against invasion, now meant nothing. Even the latest automaton and magic cannons were rendered useless as Tiamat gazed down from the sky. "Everything is futile before my eyes," the dragon's whisper echoed in the minds of all remaining generals and soldiers. One general, with a vacant stare, pounded his chest, "By the heavens! We should have been more prepared! But what good is it? Everything we did, just to witness this destruction…" The despair was so overwhelming that he almost surrendered to his fate, as if this world was destined to crumble.
The contractions of Iris and Nobuzan grew stronger. Each time they fell to the ground, Tiamat's voice crawled into their minds: "The spiral blood is the door. I will be reborn through your wombs." Tears mixed with blood flowed down the cheeks of both women, not just from physical pain, but from the fear of losing everything—including their names, love, and even existence. "I don't want to lose her, Nobuzan," they encouraged each other, their voices trembling with emotion. "We cannot let that monster win," Nobuzan replied, gripping Iris's hand tightly, trying to dispel the uncertainty gnawing at their hearts. "No matter what, we must fight," she added, striving to instill hope in a seemingly grim situation. All the pain and suffering they endured created a new narrative, a tale of struggle, hope, and love that would not fade even as the world around them crumbled.
Iris clutched Fitran's heirloom that had been secretly given to her—a small pendant containing a fragment of the world's roots, a symbol of the vow of protection. Her fingers trembled, not only from the weight of the jewelry but also from the burden of hope that accompanied it. "With this, we will fight," she whispered, as if trying to convince herself more than anyone else. Nobuzan held the family talisman, the deep red beads now felt like a gravestone for a future that had vanished. "What good is all this if we cannot protect those we love?" Nobuzan murmured, her eyes searching Iris's vacant gaze. They both prayed, not to a god, but to the last hope that had never been named.
The Impossible War
Joanna, Mitsuyori, and Gabriel, along with the remaining guardians, prepared the last defense at the border between the three kingdoms. As the wind howled, Joanna could feel the cold uncertainty piercing her skin. "We cannot lose! This is our home!" she shouted with fervor, even as her heart burned with a raging fear. Above them, the sky was filled with blue-purple cracks, and the sound of spirals thundered in the air. "Come on, everyone! Don't let fear take over us!" Mitsuyori urged, trying to lift the spirits that were beginning to fade in their ranks. Tiamat's monsters emerged from the ground—giant serpents with golden eyes, black birds carrying void fire, and the spirits of past victims screaming for release. The cries of 'Yasuko' echoed in her mind, reminding her of all that was lost.
Every resistance only prolonged the suffering. Every spell cast by the angels and samurai became mere sparks in an inevitable sea of destruction. "We have tried everything... is this the end?" Joanna whispered, her eyes closing for a moment, imagining the peaceful times that now seemed so far away. Joanna shouted, the voices of Michael and Sheena resonating in her soul, giving her strength but also adding to the unbearable pain. Yet the dragon's power seemed limitless, crushing the remaining hope as if tearing her soul apart. "We will not surrender, even if you come from the darkness," she declared with determination, even as her heart screamed to protect the remnants of hope that remained.
The people in the Sanctuary and surrounding areas lived in the remnants of fear. Babies were born with spiral marks on their bodies, some crying silently—seemingly bearing the sins of the world from birth. In the dark corners of the village, whispers and unspoken silences echoed, "Will we survive? Will this resurrection bring more pain?" Children lost their ability to speak; it was not just a loss of words, but a loss of hope. They walked with vacant stares, as if they were shadows of the joyful childhood they should have had. Adults had nightmares every night, and many chose to end their own lives rather than become the next victims of the dragon. "I don't want to be prey," one father said despairingly to his neighbor, gazing at his sleeping children, as if they did not understand how terrifying the world outside was.
Finally, at the peak of the night, Tiamat's voice rang clear from the center of the world's cracks: "Three crowns have fallen. The old world is finished. I, Tiamat, Cosmic Matron of Ruin, will walk upon the earth—and you, the mothers of spiral blood, are my door." Amidst the fear that shook the air, some citizens whispered, "Is this the end for us all?" The sky opened, massive wings made of bone and voidlight spread wide, blocking the black moon. An aura of destruction swallowed the world, leaving behind an unbearable rumble of sorrow. The people found themselves reduced to dust beneath the feet of the ancient dragon. They lamented, "What else can we hope for?" while the remnants of kingdoms turned to dust, crumbling under Tiamat's shadow.
Iris and Nobuzan gazed at each other, their breaths ragged, blood and tears mingling on the ground of the Sanctuary. In the final moment, before total darkness consumed the world, they held each other's hands, whispering to one another, "We will endure. For our children. For Fitran." Nobuzan added softly, "When everything crumbles, the only thing left is us and our love." Yet beneath the shadow of the fallen sky, no one knew if that promise could still be kept, or if the world had entered its final chapter before everything returned to nothingness. Perhaps they realized that within that uncertainty, hope sometimes arises from the darkest places.