The spear of light howled through the air, hurtling toward Lioren like a bolt of divine lightning.
He barely managed to turn—an earthen shield erupted before him, stopping the spear's tip. But in an instant, the shaft shattered, transforming into hundreds of glowing chains that crisscrossed and coiled around his limbs, constricting like the shackles of hell.
> "My prince..." — a sweet, distorted voice rang out, like a broken clock. "I'm back, Geal..."
She stepped forth from the smoke: Lyre.
No longer human. No longer the ordinary girl she once was.
Now, she was a creature of corrupted light — a mutated Lumen Wyrm — a fusion of angel and demon, with a body of eternal regeneration and a soul that bled sorrow.
She smiled, leapt, and swung her black-blooded scythe toward Lioren.
---
Lioren roared, summoning all four elements within him — fire, earth, ice, and lightning — then slammed both hands onto the ground.
> "Remnant Chaos – Rift Cleave!"
The earth trembled. A flaming stone pillar erupted beneath Lyre, but she merely tilted her body—graceful as a dance—and vanished.
Lioren's eyes widened—death was near.
A sharp slash echoed behind him—Lyre reappeared in a flash of light, her scythe inches from his throat. He barely dodged, but the blade still tore deep into his left shoulder.
> "Too fast..." — Lioren staggered back, blood streaming, his grip tightening.
Lyre ascended, wings of light unfurled. From above, she summoned dozens of pillars of light, raining down upon the city—not just Lioren, but the civilians hiding below.
> "No one leaves. No one forgets me."
---
Lioren roared again, forming a barrier of ice to shield against the massacre. The light columns exploded into storms of radiant fury, piercing the ground.
He spun—striking upward with a punch of fire and lightning, creating a vortex of energy. Lyre was pulled in, her scythe flung aside, her body slammed to the earth.
It seemed, for a moment, that the battle had calmed.
But no.
Lyre laughed.
Black blood poured from her mouth and transformed into hundreds of tiny worms, crawling back into her—into her eyes, ears, mouth—a living nightmare.
> "Lioren... you know?"
"This body's no longer mine... but killing—feels so damn good."
She stood, joints cracking, and spread her arms.
> "White Banquet!"
A massive burst of warped light consumed the square—colors vanished. Only white and red remained—flesh peeled from bone beneath the light.
Lioren screamed, encasing himself in stone, but his strength was fading. Every strike slower, every movement trembling.
> "No other way... chaos…"
His eyes began to glow—but blood leaked from them.
> "Already at the limit..."
---
Lyre advanced. The scythe was back in her hand.
Lioren collapsed to one knee, one leg broken, eyes bleeding.
She raised her hand, ready to finish him—
But Geal appeared.
> "Lyre… that's enough."
No spells. No attacks.
Geal rushed in and wrapped his arms around her from behind.
The scythe halted—mere inches from Lioren's neck.
> "Remember? When we tried to survive the entrance trials together?"
"When we fought over a single piece of bread?"
"I'm sorry... I wasn't strong enough to save you sooner."
"We told each other so many stories—about the past, our joys…"
Lyre trembled.
The scythe fell from her hand.
> "It hurts... so much, Geal…"
She rested her head on his shoulder.
The entire scythe shattered.
The light within her flared once more like a bleeding flower—then she collapsed, unconscious. Inside her, the light-worm writhed, barely alive.
> "Sleep well."
Geal kissed her lips.
Lioren watched, blood in his eyes.
Geal said nothing. He just held her close, tears dripping onto the wound on her forehead.
Rain began to fall.
Lyre lay in Geal's arms, like a child rescued from a nightmare.
Her body softened. The wounds stopped regenerating. She breathed weakly, her clouded eyes searching for the last flicker of light.
> "Geal…" — her voice as soft as smoke. "Are you… still here…?"
Geal held her tighter.
> "I'm here… always…"
She smiled, lips barely curved—then fell asleep. The coma swept in like a gentle night. Silence took the square. The civilians were dead. The air still reeked of blood and burning flesh.
It seemed like the nightmare had ended.
It seemed like redemption was still possible.
Only seemed.
A sharp, slicing sound tore through the rain.
A red arc cut across the gray.
Lyre's head hit the ground.
It rolled three times… and stopped at Geal's feet.
Geal froze. His hands still held her now-headless body.
> "….."
He didn't understand. Until he looked up—and saw Lioren, standing just a few steps away.
In his hand was a blood-drenched blade—not fire, not lightning—but something else. Silent. Elementless. Magicless. Pure killing intent.
> "...Lyre was still alive…" — Geal stammered, collapsing beside her. "Lioren… why?"
Lioren didn't answer immediately. He raised his hand, catching a few drops of blood from the blade, staring into his palm as if the answer was written there.
Then he looked up, eyes darkened—no longer human, no longer grieving. Only a cold judgment, like steel.
> "Demons…" "Should die." "Better than living."
He walked past Geal, leaving Lyre's corpse behind in the rain and blood.
> "Forgiveness won't bring her back."
"Only death ends the path to monstrosity."
He spoke as if reminding himself.
Geal screamed:
> "She was human! She fought! She came back!"
> "No," — Lioren stopped, without turning — "She almost came back. But almost is never enough. One shard… just one shard of that demon still lived. And I won't risk that."
He walked away, leaving Geal kneeling beside the lifeless body of the woman he loved.
Lioren heard metal scraping stone behind him.
He didn't look back—just paused—for a moment. A silence… that stretched like eternity.
Then the sound of a blade slicing through flesh.
Geal had driven his sword through his own chest.
Blood gushed, mixing with Lyre's pool.
> "If we can't live together… then we die together…" — he whispered, and fell, clutching her cold body.
Geal and Lyre—died as one.
A moment so heavy, even the gods fell silent.
Lioren stood. Never looking back.
His gaze was distant, staring into the void where humanity and monstrosity blurred into one.
Wind screamed through his tangled hair.
The rain no longer cooled the fury long dead in his heart.
He uttered a word—barely audible:
> "…Fools."
No emotion. No grief. Only judgment… cold as iron.
And then he walked away, his figure fading into the gray rain.
Behind him, only two corpses remained among blood and wind—like two wilted crimson flowers that would never bloom again.
---
> "When a savior begins killing in the name of justice… he has ceased to be human."
---
That day, the entire continent trembled at the news: "Over one million civilians of Elaron Citadel massacred."
Economy and politics teetered on the edge of collapse.
---
> "Looks like I've won this game," — Kael Vandros said.
"Shame. If the girl hadn't been swayed by emotion, I would've claimed victory," — Veyrion Vanilis added.
---
"Father."
> "My sweet daughter, what brings you here?" — Kael Vandros.
"I want to play with you."
"Alright then. Let's play together." — he smiled.
> "Enjoy your family time. I'll be leaving now." — Veyrion Vanilis.
The little girl waved and said,
> "Take care, mister."