Liam sat on a wooden chair outside his tent, his body heavy with fatigue. Every muscle ached, a deep soreness that hadn't faded no matter how much time passed. Training with Luciana had pushed him far beyond his limits, to the point where he could barely compare it to anything he had done before. What he once thought was hard training now felt almost meaningless in comparison.
They had spent every possible moment pushing further, even stepping into the Creator's domain whenever they had the chance, stretching hours into something far longer. It was exhausting, relentless, but it worked.
Now, when he entered his transformation, he could control it. His power had stabilized, no longer something wild or unpredictable. In that state, he was already at a B rank, maybe even pushing into B-plus.
Ahead of him, the army was preparing to move again. Soldiers packed their gear, commanders gave orders, and the usual rhythm of relocation filled the camp. That's all they had been doing lately, moving, waiting, dealing with scattered enemies. The prince, their true target, hadn't shown himself since their last encounter. Only small forces, minor ambushes, and empty tactics stood in their way.
Liam pushed himself up, about to gather his things, when something in the air shifted.
A faint burst echoed above, like a small explosion without force. He looked up just in time to see a cloud of fine, blue powder spreading through the air. It moved unnaturally, carried by the wind but lingering longer than it should, slowly thinning as it drifted across the camp.
He frowned, watching it carefully.
Then the first scream came.
It was distant, somewhere deeper in the camp. Liam turned sharply, trying to locate it, but before he could, another scream followed, from a completely different direction. Then another. And another.
The screams spread rapidly, multiplying until they echoed from every corner of the camp. What had been a controlled, disciplined army moments ago was now descending into chaos. Liam reacted instantly, drawing his sword as a small eel coiled around his arm, its body crackling with mana as it sent streaks of lightning along the blade.
He barely had time to take a step when the stone beside him suddenly shifted, its surface rippling before it twisted into a small blue Imp. The imp lunged at him without hesitation, its jagged limbs outstretched. Liam's sword flashed, cutting it cleanly in half, but there was no relief, because all around him, the same thing was happening.
Objects, ground, even the air itself seemed to distort as more of those creatures formed, dozens at first, then hundreds, closing in from every direction.
Liam's eyes widened as he turned, searching for an opening, some way to break through…
And then everything exploded.
Not outward, but inward. Every creature around him burst apart at once, dissolving into nothing before they could even reach him. In the middle of that sudden silence, Luciana landed beside him.
"Liam, you have to leave. Now."
Her voice was sharp, urgent, nothing like her usual calm tone.
"Luciana? What's going on?" he asked, but as he looked at her face, the question answered itself. There was worry there. Real worry.
"The prince is here."
"What?"
He didn't even finish the word.
The world blurred, space folding in on itself, and in the next instant, he was gone.
A second later, he reappeared far from the camp, stumbling slightly as he regained his balance. Around him, the rest of the army had been moved as well. Soldiers looked around in confusion, some shouting, others gripping their weapons without understanding what had just happened.
Liam didn't pay attention to them.
His gaze was fixed north.
In the distance, something unnatural had taken form, a massive wall of blood, stretching high into the sky, thick and unmoving, as if it were blocking the very air itself. It pulsed faintly, alive in a way that made his chest tighten just looking at it.
…
When Luciana felt the last of their allies vanish, she didn't hesitate. Her mana surged outward, and in an instant, a vast ocean of blood spread across the air itself, rising like a crimson barrier. It moved unnaturally, flowing upward and solidifying at the same time, forming a thick wall that sealed off the space between the battlefield and those who had just been teleported away.
The prince's spell struck it a moment later.
The blood absorbed the attack, stopping it from reaching the others.
Only after that did Luciana move.
Her body dissolved into a stream of crimson and surged forward, reforming moments later as she landed near Hellen, who was seated on a large stone. Up close, it was clear she had pushed herself too far, her breathing was uneven, her body slick with sweat.
"Are you okay?" Luciana asked, her voice quieter now, but still tense.
Hellen nodded, though the strain was obvious. "I'm fine… I just used too much mana too quickly."
Above them, Timon hovered in the sky, his presence steady but alert. In front of him stood two figures.
His gaze moved between them, sharp and calculating, before settling on the one he recognized.
Iason Starlight.
"The last time, you failed," Timon said, his tone edged with mockery. "So now you brought your sister?"
Iason raised an eyebrow slightly, clearly surprised. "You know about her? Not even my father knew she was alive."
Timon didn't react. He hadn't known before, but through the shared knowledge Luciana got from within the Creator's domain and brought to him, the truth had reached him.
"I know more than you think," he replied calmly.
Below, Luciana's eyes remained fixed on the two figures in the sky. There was no doubt about it now.
"That's not good…" she murmured under her breath.
The difference in power was clear. Timon stood at S1, but she and Hellen were only A5. Against not one, but two opponents, one S1 and the other even stronger, the gap was overwhelming.
Her fingers tightened slightly. They wouldn't stand a chance like this.
Which meant there was only one option left.
She might have to reach deeper, into the power hidden within her domain, the one she had avoided using unless absolutely necessary.
…
Arthur stood in the middle of the training ground, trading blows with Marco. The clash of steel echoed across the camp as Marco struggled to keep up. He was still far from mastering his transformation.
Right now, Marco was a C-rank warrior at best, but outside of combat, he had earned respect in another way. He was a skilled blacksmith and enchanter. Soldiers often lined up at his forge, bringing worn blades and damaged armor. When Marco etched a fire enchantment into a sword and flames burst along its edge, the soldiers reacted like children seeing magic for the first time. Their excitement spread quickly through the camp.
But none of that helped him here. What he needed now was control over his transformation, and time was running out. They only had one month left.
Marco blocked another strike from Arthur, his arms trembling from the impact. Sweat dripped down his face as he forced himself to stay standing.
Off to the side, Briva watched with a faint smile. She stood relaxed, but her eyes tracked every movement. As a A-rank druid, she could see exactly where Marco failed and where he improved.
Around them, a small crowd of soldiers had gathered. It had become routine, watching Marco train against Arthur was better than any drill. They murmured among themselves, commenting on each exchange, some placing quiet bets on how long Marco would last.
Arthur pressed forward, his attacks steady and controlled, forcing Marco back step by step. Marco barely managed to block, his breathing growing heavier with each strike.
Then, without warning, a crushing pressure swept over the camp.
It came like an invisible wave, slamming into everyone at once. Soldiers below B-rank dropped to their knees instantly as the weight forced the air out of their lungs. Marco collapsed as well, his body refusing to respond under the overwhelming force.
Briva's expression snapped from calm to alert. The air itself felt wrong, dense, heavy, filled with power that didn't belong there. Her hair rose slightly as the pressure passed through her.
Just as suddenly as it came, a warm aura of light spread across the camp, pushing back against the force.
Arthur stood firm at the center, releasing his mana without hesitation. The light wrapped around the soldiers, shielding them, stabilizing the space and easing the crushing weight enough for them to breathe again.
The pressure faded as quickly as it had arrived, leaving behind a tense silence.
At that exact moment, Nildrer Deepheart rushed toward Arthur, Ryan close behind him. Their expressions were sharp and urgent, their pace unrestrained, something was very wrong.
"Mr. Caelum, what was that?" Nildrer asked, his voice tight as he tried to steady himself.
Arthur didn't answer immediately. His gaze remained fixed on a single, empty point in the sky, his expression hardening.
"Move the army. Fall back," he said at last, his voice low but firm. "No one stays here."
The tone alone was enough. Nildrer studied his face for a brief second, then nodded without another word and rushed off, already shouting orders. Soldiers scrambled to their feet, the camp breaking into motion as commands spread.
Ryan stayed behind. He stepped closer, following Arthur's line of sight, but saw nothing.
"Arthur… who's coming?"
Arthur's brows lowered slightly. "My uncle."
He turned, helping Marco to his feet and guiding him toward Briva. Without hesitation, he leaned in and kissed her briefly, then placed Marco beside her.
"Go," he said.
Briva met his eyes, her expression steady despite the tension. "Be careful."
Arthur gave a small nod.
Four golden wings burst from his back, unfolding with a sharp flash of light. With a single powerful beat, he launched himself into the sky, rising rapidly above the camp.
As he ascended, he glanced down once. The army was already retreating, formations breaking and reforming as they moved away from the danger zone. Satisfied, he turned his focus forward.
He stopped high in the air, hovering in place. His eyes locked onto an empty stretch of sky ahead of him.
Seconds passed. Then minutes. The air remained still, but Arthur didn't move.
Finally, the space in front of him twisted. The sky warped as if something pressed against it from the other side. Then it split open, peeling back like a curtain.
From the opening, a man stepped through.
He wore heavy armor the color of obsidian, its dark surface absorbing the light around it.
"Thomas Caelum. So you finally came," Arthur said, his voice steady but sharp.
"Is that how you speak to your uncle?" Thomas replied, his tone measured, almost cold.
"For me, you're nothing but a target. A problem to eliminate," Arthur said calmly, his eyes fixed on him.
"Your words wound me, nephew. But how do you expect to kill a man even your father couldn't?"
"Not even my father could?" Arthur's laugh was short, almost cruel. "Bold words for someone who needed two other S-ranks and a god just to take down one man. Tell me… where are your other two allies now?" Arthur said.
"Where you'll soon join them," Thomas said, his voice hardening.
Thomas pointed the tip of his greatsword toward the ground. Shadows pooled beneath it, thick and black, stretching upward like spilled ink. The darkness moved almost alive, spreading quickly, forming a wide, writhing basin that shimmered with malice. Then, in a heartbeat, the shadows coiled upward, solidifying.
From the black void, jagged armor took shape. From the shifting darkness beneath him, a colossal warhorse emerged, its body carved from shadow and void, muscles rippling beneath a surface that seemed almost liquid.
Mounted atop this creature, Thomas towered, an unstoppable figure of fear. His armor, black and jagged like scorched stone, wrapped around him like a second skin. The plates looked grown rather than made, as if fossilized remnants of some long dead predator had fused to him.
Arthur raised his hands. A golden sword materialized in his right, a shield in his left. Two additional wings unfurled from his back, stretching wide, gleaming with pure light.
The six winged angel of radiance stood ready against the Black Knight.
Arthur wasn't a man driven by revenge, but if there was anyone he wanted to kill with his own hands, it was Thomas.