Asterdolf and Indura stood side by side, both panting hard, wounds burning, bodies screaming with exhaustion.
Indura coughed violently, then suddenly laughed out loud — a raw, exhausted sound that echoed across the shattered battlefield.
"That's for destroying my castle," he shouted, voice hoarse but defiant.
Asterdolf chuckled weakly, leaning on his great sword. "The castle was meant to be destroyed anyway. The battle has already erased the remote lands where it stood."
Indura sighed, looking at the smoking ruins around them. "Yeah… that's true."
Asterdolf wiped blood from his mouth and managed a tired smile. "When we're done here, why don't we head back to the capital? In times like this, a fine cold beer does the trick."
Indura laughed despite the pain. "Beer? What's that?"
Asterdolf described it — the crisp bite, the cool foam, the way it soothed a tired throat after a long day. Indura's eyes lit up with sudden thirst just from hearing the description.
He glanced down at himself. His crimson scale armor was severely damaged — plates crumbling, some breaking off entirely. Blood streaked down his body from multiple deep cuts and gashes. His strength was fading fast; even standing felt like a battle now.
Asterdolf lifted his great sword slightly, murmuring, "I'm thankful for you, old friend."
Indura looked at the blade with genuine curiosity. "That sword… It's really impressive. It almost feels alive."
Asterdolf chuckled. "It is alive. It has its own ego."
Indura raised an eyebrow. "What does that mean?"
"The sword is basically a living being," Asterdolf explained. "It has its own mind and personality. Although it chooses its wielder."
Indura became intrigued. "Can I touch it?"
Asterdolf handed the sword over. The moment Indura gripped the hilt, the weapon's immense weight pulled him down. He stumbled and nearly dropped it, the tip hitting the ground with a heavy thud.
"Why is it so heavy?"
"It's not just an ego sword," Asterdolf replied, still chuckling. "It's a divine sword. Of course it's heavy."
Indura tried again, straining with both hands. He managed to lift it barely an inch before letting it go with a grunt.
How does this old man swing something like this around? He thought, genuinely stunned. I can't even lift it properly.
Asterdolf picked the sword back up effortlessly. "It has a name. It's called Drake."
Indura tilted his head. "Drake?"
"It comes from dragon origin," Asterdolf said. "Though it is not wielded by a dragon or a dragon master, it is one that can slay even divine beings."
Indura smiled with real interest. "Now I want it."
Asterdolf laughed. "If you do well someday, maybe I'll pass it on to you."
Suddenly, they heard slow, unsteady footsteps.
Both turned.
Juriel stood there — broken, bleeding, armor cracked and wings torn. His once-pristine white hair was matted with blood, but his eyes still burned with hatred.
Asterdolf gripped his sword tighter. "It seems it's not over yet."
Suddenly, Asterdolf coughed violently. Black blood splattered from his mouth as he fell to his knees, body convulsing.
Indura moved instantly, trying to help him up. "What's wrong?"
Asterdolf clutched his chest, feeling the dark energy from Goulag's old wound raging wildly inside him. It's taking over my heart now… Fighting made it worse. He cursed the Goulag silently for this misfortune.
At the same moment, the floating empire began to destabilize, as the mechanism holding it in the air was damaged by a sword slash that found its way to it.
Citizens inside felt the shift — the ground tilting, items rolling, people screaming and holding onto each other. The golden aura flickered and weakened as the massive crust started crumbling at the edges, debris falling to the ground far below.
Indura looked at Juriel, gritting his teeth in frustration. He had reached his absolute limit. He didn't have much strength left to fight.
He held up Asterdolf and tried to fly to safety, but the lingering shock from Duriel's hammer strike jolted through his body again. He coughed blood, scales falling off in small pieces, and his vision was blurring.
Have to leave… I might pass out here.
Asterdolf gripped his sword and forced himself to stand, the weapon now feeling unbearably heavy. He turned to Indura.
"Stand back," he said, voice strained. "I still have one more move left."
Indura looked at him in shock, but before he could respond, Juriel began mumbling long, silent words under his breath.
Asterdolf's eyes widened in horror. The silent hymns—
"Indura, get away!" he shouted.
It was too late.
A large white burst of energy exploded through Indura's chest, tearing it open.
Indura's eyes widened in shock. His strength finally gave out. He fell to the ground, completely motionless.
Asterdolf shouted in rage and tried to raise his sword to block, but suddenly, his arm holding the blade was blown clean off. He collapsed to the ground, still breathing, staring up at the sky in shock and horror.
Am I going to die here… after everything?
Juriel kept mumbling, tears falling from his eyes as if mourning his fallen comrades. His eyes turned dark purple. His hair turned black. His armor shifted into broken black plates, and two of his remaining wings turned black and wider. A curved horn grew from his head.
His aura was so thick that it spread all the way to the floating empire. Every citizen felt the crushing weight of death itself. Darkness swallowed the land as light was devoured.
Jin stood on the high wall of the floating empire, eyes carrying cold anger. He was unfazed by the aura, as he whispered to himself, "Dark Haven."
Down below on the rubble, Astrath, no longer in donkey form, now with red crimson hair, white eyes, skin as clear as day, and noble clothing, sat on broken rock, unfazed. "It's the power of the Dark Haven."
Ostrid remained silent, containing himself.
Back at the battlefield, Juriel spread his arms wide and let out an eerie laugh. He looked down at Asterdolf, who was struggling to sit up.
Asterdolf looked at Juriel and said hoarsely, "I was right… the Sky Palace has truly become filth."
He turned his eyes to Indura, who lay motionless, golden eyes dimmed. Asterdolf gritted his teeth and forced himself to stand, using his remaining arm and the sword as support.
Juriel waved his hand casually. Asterdolf was sent flying, crashing across the ground, his wound scraping painfully as he shouted in agony.
Juriel used his aura to lift Indura's body into the air. "Now I will make sure you are bound."
Asterdolf stood again, body and bones screaming. He shouted at Juriel, blood flowing from his mouth. "Put him down!"
I cannot let Indura be taken. Not by them. He begged silently for one last burst of strength to save the dragon.
Juriel's face was cold and filled with evil. "Do you feel it now? The weight in your chest? Your body realizing it has already lost."
Asterdolf looked in horror as he tried to draw out his sword's divine power.
Juriel kept speaking. "You stood against the heavens without the strength to reach them. That was your sin."
The words echoed inside Asterdolf as he fell to the ground, the dark energy going wild in his heart. He coughed in pain.
Then the floating empire began to descend slowly. People shouted, some being lifted into the air as the crust crumbled.
Julius held Historia tightly. He looked out at the people floating helplessly and gritted his teeth.
Historia told him softly, "Go. Go save your people. I'll be fine."
Julius bit his lip, then snapped. He jumped out of the window and slid down the palace walls.
Magic knights leaped into action, using their magic to pull down the helpless people and guide them to safety as the empire continued its slow, terrifying descent.
Juriel looked up at the falling kingdom and smiled. "Ah… there it is. Even your miracle cannot hold." He looked back at Asterdolf. "Watch closely, Asterdolf… this is how everything you built ends."
Asterdolf turned toward his empire, despair written across his face as his mana finally ran out, leaving the floating kingdom helpless.
At first, he wondered if lifting it had been a mistake. But if it had remained on the ground, their attacks would have penetrated his barrier anyway.
Juriel grabbed Asterdolf by the neck. "It is pointless now. You should watch carefully and burn it into your brain."
Asterdolf, now running out of blood and strength, could only watch helplessly.
Suddenly, two streaks of green soared through the sky.
Syphon and Drune appeared.
Drune immediately cast a massive mana construct below the descending empire. Syphon went all out, pouring her light magic into slowing its fall. It was heavy. It wasn't easy for the two grandmasters, but their presence made a difference.
Juriel noticed them and felt a flicker of frustration, but also interest.
Asterdolf noticed them too. For a moment, he smiled weakly.
Elves...
Asterdolf turned his head, eyes falling on Indura suspended in the air behind Juriel.
His heart clenched at the sight. The dragon's chest was a ruined hole — flesh torn open, bone visible, blood still dripping in slow, heavy drops. Yet something else caught his attention.
Asterdolf's eyes widened.
The wound… it was moving.
Tiny, fleshy threads were slowly knitting themselves together, reattaching bit by bit in a grotesque but determined regeneration. The process was agonizingly slow, but it was happening.
Is he not dead? He's regenerating, Asterdolf thought, a spark of desperate hope cutting through the pain. Even with a wound like that… if Juriel notices, everything could turn. I have to distract him. Buy time. Anything. Even if it costs my own life.
Juriel noticed the shift in Asterdolf's expression. His dark purple eyes narrowed. "What are you thinking about, old man?"
Asterdolf coughed again, black blood staining his lips. Despite the agony, a defiant smirk tugged at his mouth.
"You're nothing but a dog of the dark," he rasped.
Juriel's face twisted in frustration. With a snarl, he hurled Asterdolf away like a discarded rag. The old emperor crashed hard into the ground, rolling several times before coming to a stop, fresh blood soaking the dirt.
"Were those your last words?" Juriel spat.
Suddenly, Juriel's own body jolted. Tiny sparks of electrical energy danced across his skin, crackling from nowhere. He touched his chest, feeling the lingering shock from Duriel's earlier hammer strike still lingering inside him.
My body isn't in good condition yet, he thought grimly. Any time wasted here will only make things worse.
Then something stranger happened.
The thick darkness that had swallowed the battlefield began to slowly clear. Light crept back in, weak at first, then growing.
Juriel looked around, confusion flashing across his face. Why is the darkness receding?
Another rough electrical shock ripped through his body — stronger this time, not from Duriel's attack, but from the world itself. His dark aura wavered, slowly retreating back into his form as if reality itself was rejecting the transformation.
Asterdolf, still on the ground, noticed and let out a weak, bloody laugh.
"You fool," he rasped. "Trying to use dark divinity here…"
He coughed again, forcing the words out. "This world may be weak… but it doesn't mean all powers are allowed to coexist with its nature."
Juriel clutched his arm as another jolt ran through him, his face twisting in pain and anger.
Asterdolf looked back at Indura's floating body, then forced himself to stand. His legs shook. Blood poured from the stump where his arm had been. He smiled through the agony.
"Drake," he shouted hoarsely at his great sword. "Attack him!"
The divine sword rose on its own, spinning rapidly in the air before launching straight at Juriel like a living missile.
Juriel leaped upward, dodging with ease. "Is that everything you have left, old man?"
The divine sword, Drake. Even in this state, I cannot let it graze me, even a little.
Drake changed course instantly, attacking from all directions — spinning, slashing, relentless. Juriel dodged with steady grace, thinking to himself.
This much I can handle. But I must leave this world soon.
Drake sped up, charging from every angle, trying to graze or pierce him.
Asterdolf inhaled sharply, trying to absorb the scattered energy around the battlefield.
There's too much mana and divinity drenched into the land… soaking everything. Absorbing even a little will take time. I need Drake to keep Juriel busy just long enough.
The sword continued its furious assault, forcing Juriel to stay on the defensive.
Asterdolf's body trembled. His vision blurred from blood loss. But his eyes remained fixed on Indura's slowly regenerating wound.
Just a little more time…
Drune and Syphon were at their limit.
High above, Syphon hovered with both hands raised, silver hair whipping wildly in the turbulent wind. Her emerald eyes burned with concentration as she poured every ounce of her light magic into slowing the empire's terrifying descent. Massive beams of radiant energy stretched upward like pillars, pressing against the underside of the floating landmass.
"It's too heavy…" she gasped, voice strained. Sweat beaded on her forehead. "The momentum… It's like trying to stop a mountain."
Beside her, Drune's six verdant rings spun at blinding speed, spatial magic warping the air around the empire. He was folding distance itself, trying to create resistance, but the floating kingdom continued its slow, inexorable fall.
Drune's jaw was clenched so tightly the muscles stood out. "I'm reinforcing the construct as fast as I can, but the crust is crumbling. If we lose focus for even a second…"
He didn't finish the sentence. Both of them knew what would happen — the empire would crash, killing thousands in an instant.
Syphon's breathing was ragged. "Indura… what have you dragged us into?"
Inside the floating empire, chaos had turned into outright terror.
People were rising into the air as gravity weakened, screaming as they floated helplessly. Others slipped off edges, falling toward the distant ground far below.
Julius moved like a man possessed.
Golden light coated his body as he used his light magic to its fullest, speeding through the air in bursts. He caught a young mother and her child mid-fall, pulling them back to a stable rooftop.
"Hold on!" he shouted, voice raw. I can't let them fall. Not one. Not today.
He launched himself again, light trailing behind him like a comet, grabbing an elderly man who was drifting off the edge of a plaza. His arms burned. His lungs screamed. But he kept moving.
Father… please… whatever you're doing, hold on just a little longer.
Magic knights darted everywhere, using ropes of mana, barriers, and levitation spells to pull people to safety. Shouts and cries filled the air as the empire continued its slow, sickening descent.
On the high wall of the empire, Jin stood completely still amid the panic.
He watched the chaos below with calm, calculating eyes. No fear. No tears.
So weak, he thought to himself. I can't do anything yet. Damn it...
Down on the battlefield, Asterdolf forced himself to stand.
Blood poured from the stump where his arm had been. His body trembled violently, but he gathered what little mana he could, pressing it into the wound to close it. The dark energy from Goulag burned like fire in his chest, but he pushed it down through sheer will.
He called out hoarsely, "Drake."
The great sword flew back into his remaining hand. It felt heavier than ever.
One more time, he thought. The mana I've gathered isn't enough. Just...one more time.
Juriel hovered nearby, dark aura swirling around his broken form.
Asterdolf staggered, sword trembling in his grip. He lunged forward with everything he had left.
Drake extended into a long, whip-like blade, lashing out in a desperate arc.
Juriel dodged with contemptuous ease, then countered with a casual flick of his hand. A wave of dark energy slammed into Asterdolf, reflecting his own attack back at him. The old emperor cried out as the whip cut across his own chest.
He stumbled, breathing hard.
Juriel laughed coldly.
Asterdolf swung again. The whip-blade cracked through the air.
Juriel simply stepped aside. Another dark pulse reflected the strike, cutting Asterdolf's leg. He fell to one knee, gasping.
"Stay down," Juriel mocked. "You're only embarrassing yourself."
Asterdolf forced himself up once more, vision blurring from blood loss. Just a little longer…
He lashed out again.
Juriel yawned theatrically and sent another reflected attack that opened a deep gash on Asterdolf's side.
The old man dropped to his knees, sword clattering beside him. Blood pooled beneath him.
Juriel hovered closer, looking down with cold amusement. "Look at you. Coughing. Stumbling. One arm. You really thought you could stand against the Sky Palace?"
Asterdolf coughed again, smiling through bloody teeth.
Juriel's eyes flashed with irritation. He raised his hand for the finishing blow.
Asterdolf's grip tightened on Drake.
Suddenly, Juriel jolted violently, knees buckling as he crashed down to the ground. He clutched his chest with one trembling hand, trying to force the dark divinity back under control.
"Ghh—!" Blood sprayed from his mouth in a wet arc. I've already reached my limit. Any longer and this will kill me. I have to leave now… or else.
Suddenly, Asterdolf's sword whipped toward his neck in a desperate arc.
Juriel caught the blade with his bare hand, fingers closing around the edge. Blood trickled between them.
He looked at the old emperor with cold contempt. "I'm tired of this."
Asterdolf felt the danger coming and tried to leap back.
Too slow.
Juriel blasted him with an invisible force. The impact carried crushing weight, scraping the land where Asterdolf had stood and sending the old man flying. He crashed hard a distance away, the breath knocked out of him, vision flashing white as he nearly blacked out.
Juriel exhaled shakily, voice hoarse. "I can't stay here any longer. You should be thankful you get to live another day, Asterdolf. But unfortunately…"
He turned toward Indura's floating, broken body.
"…I've collected what I came here for."
Juriel began to walk away.
Then the jolt returned — heavier this time.
His body convulsed. He dropped to his knees, clutching his chest in agony as dark energy surged uncontrollably. The divinity is being forcefully rejected by this world. I must open the gate to the Sky Palace before the Causality punishes me.
Causality. An invisible law that prevented higher beings from unleashing their full power in the lower realm without consequence. It was the world's own defense, a silent rule that rejected foreign divinity like a body rejecting a poison.
Juriel spat out another mouthful of blood, his body twitching as the jolt intensified, locking his movements.
Asterdolf, lying on the ground, saw it all. His face looked older, more fatigued than ever. If I had more strength… I would finish him now. But I'm empty. His heart slowed dangerously as the dark energy fully consumed it.
It's over for me, he thought, a wave of quiet resignation washing over him. I tried. I thought I could save the dragon… at least see Indura one last time. My son… the empire…
Meanwhile, Juriel was deep in agony. He forced himself to stabilize, shouting at the unruly power inside him. "Hold on… just a little longer! I'll be finished soon— damn you!"
The dark divinity erupted out of control. Juriel screamed with everything he had, trying to contain it.
Then a voice cut through the noise like a blade.
"Silence."
It was a woman's voice — ancient, carrying impossible weight.
The battlefield fell deathly quiet.
A burst of force erupted outward in continuous rings of wind. Juriel's body began to twist, crack, and break as he screamed in agony. He levitated into the air as the wind spun violently around him. Dark divinity exploded from every pore — eyes, mouth, nose, cracks in his skin. Lightning and thunder roared. The clouds turned dark purple. The sky itself seemed to bleed.
The aura coming from Juriel changed.
A figure began to take shape from his body, like clay being recrafted. Juriel's cries were absorbed. His entire form was swallowed by swirling dark aura.
Asterdolf could only watch with blurry vision.
Hands and legs emerged — feminine, graceful. Long dark purple hair sprouted, touching the ground. The aura condensed. The figure's appearance became clearer.
A tall woman stood there.
Her body was covered in a shifting aura, as if she existed only temporarily. Her face formed — too perfect, too still, the kind of beauty that didn't belong in a living world. Her body carried striking features that would make men fall to their knees. Her eyes were a haunting mix of gold and purple. Her skin was a smooth, dark grey.
She looked up at the sky, took a long, slow breath… and exhaled.
Then she spoke, voice soft yet carrying across the ruined land.
"This world… is unfamiliar."