The sky no longer had any color except for the rotting red and blue. Everything felt frozen between the cracks of time, as if the breath of the world itself had grown weary of continuing its rhythm. The air was filled with the scent of iron, blood, and something much more ancient: a will that sought to erase all meaning. Acid rain began to fall from the suffering sky, each drop touching the earth with a piercing pain, precious moments evaporating without a trace.
Amidst the ruins of Sanctuary, Joanna stood alone in front of the blazing portal. Behind her lay a valley full of victims and the remaining protectors—Gabriel, Mutsuyori, and the last remnants of the spiral protectors. But as Tiamat began to step into the mortal realm, it was as if all of reality rejected her presence; the trees aged in an instant, rivers changed their currents, and the wind itself turned against every prayer. Gripping her weapon, Joanna felt the vibration of power in her hands, and for a moment, her face radiated determination, as if she could answer the endless challenge before her.
Joanna felt Michael's blood vibrating in her veins, Sheena's legacy whispering the last incantations, and the essence of the spiral Fitran flowing within her bones. The only thing left was the will to protect the world—even if it meant she had to burn herself. On her lips, a mantra was etched, lost among the clang of swords, hope and despair merging in a single breath. "I will not let this world fall!" she cried, her voice firm piercing through the tension of the atmosphere. As Joanna stepped forward, there was a flash in her eyes, a power that seemed small yet capable of igniting in the darkness.
Behind Joanna, Gabriel, who had nearly lost all his angelic power, prayed in a heavenly tongue, while Mutsuyori chanted illusion after illusion, keeping the last hiding places of Iris and Nobuzan from Tiamat's scent. She stretched out her hands, creating a protective barrier of light that enveloped her friends, her movements weak yet persistent. Her heavy breaths signaled an inner struggle; she knew hope was thin, but she vowed not to back down.
Meanwhile, far beneath the ruins of Gaia's palace, in a basement sealed by layers of magic and the roots of the world tree, Iris and Nobuzan knelt before an ancient altar. Their bodies convulsed, breaths choked. Their protective magic had grown fragile—each contraction felt like a fight for life and death, waves of pain rolling within them. Iris tried to reach for Nobuzan's hand, but her strength was so weak, as if the world wanted to snatch them away. "We must hold on!" she urged, her gaze filled with determination and a nearly extinguished hope. "Like in the stories, we must explore the darkness to see the light."
Meanwhile, far beneath the ruins of Gaia's palace, in a basement sealed by layers of magic and the roots of the world tree, Iris and Nobuzan knelt before an ancient altar. Their bodies convulsed, breaths choked. Their protective magic had grown fragile—each contraction felt like a life-and-death struggle for them and the fetus in her womb. In the darkness, the flickering candlelight cast anxious shadows on their faces. Iris bit her lip, feeling fear creep within her chest, as if time was turning against them.
Iris closed her eyes, whispering Fitran's name. "If this is the end, I want to remember you until my last breath." Tears streamed down her cheeks, mingling with the blood of blue magic that glimmered faintly. In these poignant moments, her body felt light, as if her soul was ready to fly away from the world. Her voice was almost like a gentle wind whisper, yet filled with deep pain, reflecting her despair.
Nobuzan held Iris's hand tightly, as if wanting to convey his spirit through every vein that connected them. "This child... is the hope of all essences. I will not let Tiamat take it, even if I must sacrifice my own body." Nobuzan's gaze was steadfast, yet his face was pale. Every drop of his blood now became a protective incantation, every pain a testament to sacrifice. He looked at Iris, learning from the depths of her eyes, and felt an infinite wave of love flowing between them. His tough smile tried to mask his fear, even as every pulse in his body trembled with impending tension.
Tiamat's steps finally touched the ground of Sanctuary. The earth trembled, stones crumbled to dust, and the river water boiled in an instant. The shadow of Tiamat's body enveloped the valley, thousands of dragon eyes glaring at Joanna with both anger and emptiness. A terrifying rumble echoed from within the earth, as if the universe reacted to the arrival of the long-awaited figure. All creatures felt oppressed under the weight of this threatening power, and the wind swirled as if calling her name loudly, as if reminding of the danger lurking.
The head of the woman Tiamat—crowned with the world, seven-colored eyes, and tears of blood—swept her gaze in every direction. Her voice was not a voice, but the echo of thousands of sufferings:
"Give me that spiral blood. This world is no longer yours."
Joanna took a deep breath, as if to inhale all the remaining hope in the world. She raised Michael's sword, the blue-white light igniting the blade. Doubt vanished from her face, replaced by blazing determination, as if the fire within her soul made every second meaningful. Michael's Final Flame—the last heavenly fire technique, the ultimate magic capable of burning the boundary between the world and emptiness.
In an instant, Joanna plunged the sword into the ground. Blazing fire rose to the sky, forming layered barriers between Tiamat and the altar below. The elemental materials trembled in pain, merging in a moment of overwhelming power. The portal that had once been open slowly began to close, but Joanna's magical strength started to wane, her body trembling under the immense pressure, her joints vibrating as if resisting the unavoidable gravity.
Gabriel: "Joanna, you can't hold on forever!"
Joanna smiled bitterly, her eyes shining with a sincere obsession. "I know. But as long as I can stand, I am the last bastion of this world. I am Michael, I am Sheena, I am Fitran—I am the spiral you rejected." Her voice echoed, each word filled with unspoken sacrifice and endless love.
Gabriel embraced Joanna from behind, strengthening the magical fire with the remnants of his energy. His entire body trembled, yet determination united in his embrace. Mutsuyori channeled the last protective illusion, obscuring the position of the altar—her eyes sparkled with hope, as every movement was seen as an effort to maintain their resilience, as if challenging the impending apocalypse.
Below the ground, Iris and Nobuzan were bloodied, their bodies barely able to withstand the contractions and the swirling spiral magic. Every tremor, every explosion on the surface, they felt in their wombs. Their faces were sweaty, mixed with blood, depicting how hard this struggle was, as if the whole world was caught between two colliding forces.
Iris whispered an ancient incantation, calling upon the spirit of Sheena to guide her soul if she were to fall. With every word spoken, her fingers trembled, as if trying to reach for something unseen. Nobuzan recited prayers to Fitran and the ancestors, his eyes closed, as if connected to every energy flowing around them. Suddenly, the magic circle at the altar trembled, sending light toward the sky. The sound of a baby's cry echoed faintly—yet to be real, but enough to shake the world on the brink of destruction. A new promise seemed to be born from the darkness, waiting to be embraced.
Tiamat, furious for not being able to seize the spiral blood directly, moved her tail full of human hands. Thousands of monsters, dragon children, and the souls of victims rose from the ground, charging at Joanna's fire barrier. Each of their attacks weakened the magic, every hand that pierced the shield burned Joanna from within. In the crowd, Joanna felt every pain like a thousand wounds, but her heart remained ablaze like a torch that would not extinguish. She moved even in her weakened state, trying to maintain the remaining hope.
Joanna began to lose consciousness. The voices of Sheena, Michael, and Fitran intertwined in her head, whispering courage, memories, and prayers for forgiveness. She smiled through tears and blood, her face full of determination as if trying to hold on at the edge of the abyss. As her memories spun, every warm embrace from the past felt like a cool breeze that rekindled her spirit—a reminder that love could be an unexpected strength.
"If the world must end, let it end with someone who still believes in love."
At the peak of pressure, Joanna screamed, releasing all the spiral essence—a burst of blue, gold, and black light exploded from her body, holding Tiamat at bay for a moment. The portal burned, some of Tiamat's dragon heads recoiling momentarily, as if pressed by the extraordinary power Joanna unleashed. Her body trembled, every muscle contracting as if she were pushing the limits of her ability. However, the power of the ancient dragon could not be held back for long.
Below, Iris and Nobuzan joined their hands over her belly. Their fingers intertwined tightly, swaying as if transferring strength to one another. Their protective magic merged, locking the fetus in layers of spiral essence that Tiamat could not touch, even as their bodies began to freeze and harden, like statues rivaled by the power of darkness. A gentle pulse in their bellies seemed to respond to the tension, vibrating with hope and love flowing between them.
"Please, save these children, even if we must vanish," Nobuzan whispered hoarsely, tears streaming down at the altar. He looked at Iris with longing, as if wanting to remember every second they had spent together. A beam of soft light touched their faces, as if the universe answered their heart's call.
As Joanna's fire began to fade, Gabriel and Mutsuyori held the last line against Tiamat's monsters. They moved with precision, dancing between the raging tails and sharp claws, each step showing determination and courage. The world began to lose color—all living things felt the emptiness, as if hope had vanished. In the silent moment before the storm, Gabriel glanced at Mutsuyori, his eyes shining with unwavering resolve, as if saying, "We must not give up."
At the last moment, before Tiamat could fully breach the barrier, the sound of a baby's cry echoed from the underground altar, shaking the entire world. As if that sound could pierce the darkness and bring forth new hope, the last spiral light burst through the ground, rising to the sky. Tiamat paused for a moment, holding her anger with a breath that stopped. Joanna collapsed to the ground, smiling in exhaustion and emotion; she tried to hold back the tears that wanted to overflow, feeling the burden with her.
However, no one knew if this sacrifice was enough to hold back the ancient dragon. Every second felt terrifying, as uncertainty hung in the air like a dark fog that could not be dispelled. That moment bore witness to everything—from the love that sacrificed, to the hope that might remain or vanish in an instant.
Tiamat hovered above the world, her eyes scanning every corner of Sanctuary, which was now dying. Every movement of her wings created a fierce wind, as if the sun and moon united in an extraordinary dance of anger. In the secret altar, Iris and Nobuzan lay unconscious, yet two small lives in their wombs continued to radiate light—the last hope of the world. The rumble from afar heightened the tension, the sound of clinking metal echoing, tearing through the silence of the night.
From their hiding place, a group of warriors exchanged sharp glances, their bodies trembling not only from the cold of the night but also from the fear that gripped their hearts. "We must fight! For them!" shouted one of the leaders, his voice full of spirit even as his breath was labored, reflecting the burning courage even as hope began to fade. The world held its breath, waiting for a new dawn that might never come.
Along the horizon, dark clouds gathered as if closing the path for the bright light. A lightning bolt struck, illuminating the faces of fear and courage, highlighting the sweat and blood that flowed. Our warriors joined hands, praying to the forgotten gods, hoping they would hear the call of their souls that tirelessly fought to resist.