Time itself seemed to stop above the industrial arena. The cracks gaping across the concrete, like deep scars, served as reminders of the massacre from the night before. Kael sat motionless at the edge of the battleground, the heavy silence broken only by the distant hum of the city. Resting in his palm were the shattered fragments of Axiom, once glorious, now nothing more than cold, lifeless pieces of metal. The flame spirit that had stood beside him in every battle had completely vanished, leaving behind only emptiness. Quietly, almost whispering to himself, Kael voiced the question that gnawed at his entire being:
"Is this… really the end?"
The next morning brought no relief. The city buzzed with rumors, and on every corner people were talking about yesterday's clash. Their words cut into Kael like knife blades.
"Did you hear? Ryujiro destroyed it with a single attack," someone said in the subway underpass.
"The Dragon Vortex isn't a spinning top… it's a monster," another agreed.
Kael walked past them with his head lowered and shoulders hunched. He heard every single word, yet there was no anger left in his eyes—only a dull sense of resignation. He didn't react, didn't even look at them. He simply kept walking forward into the void.
In the distance, standing atop the edge of a tall building, Reizen Kuro watched the boy's every movement like a dark silhouette. His expression was unusually serious, stripped of all mockery. He knew this defeat was far more than a simple loss.
"So this is how it happened…" he muttered under his breath as he gazed across the city skyline. He could clearly see that Ryujiro machine had been set into motion, and the chaos left in its wake was only the beginning. Even so, Reizen did not move, nor did he intervene. He allowed events to continue rolling deeper into darkness on their own.
By evening, even the sky had turned black, and a heavy, icy rain soaked the abandoned streets. Kael wandered aimlessly through the alleyways, his clothes drenched, though he didn't care in the slightest. In his hand he still clutched the pieces of Axiom, as if afraid that letting go of them would erase his past forever.
"I promised… we'd reach the top together," he finally said aloud, his voice trembling beneath the rhythm of the rain. A lump formed in his throat as memories of their shared victories resurfaced.
"And yet… I lost you."
His nails dug into his palm as he gripped the shattered metal even tighter.
As darkness completely swallowed the district, Kael passed by an old crumbling building that stood out from the modern cityscape. It was a blacksmith's workshop, and through the cracks in its walls a faint orange glow spilled onto the rain-soaked asphalt. From inside came the rhythmic sound of metal striking metal.
CLANG. CLANG.
There was something ancient and strangely comforting in that sound, enough to make the boy stop in his tracks.
Inside, an old man worked beside the forge. His face was lined like the bark of an ancient oak, and his hands were roughened by decades of labor. As Kael approached the doorway, the sound of the hammer abruptly ceased. The old man slowly straightened up, his gaze immediately falling upon the fragments of Axiom in Kael's hand.
The old man stepped out into the cold night. His long white beard glowed in the light of the forge, while his stern yet wise eyes carefully studied the boy. He stared at the broken spinning top for a long moment before finally speaking.
"Interesting…"
Kael looked up in alarm, unable to understand what this stranger wanted from him.
"It's rare to feel such energy from a broken peonza," the old man continued, causing Kael to nearly step back in shock.
"You… can feel it?" he asked in disbelief, because until now everyone else had seen nothing but a pile of scrap metal in his hands.
At that moment, the blacksmith's expression softened slightly, and a faint, knowing smile appeared at the corner of his mouth. He turned back toward his workshop, where the flames of the forge suddenly began to dance more violently, heating from orange to an almost white-hot blaze.
"When a flame goes out… it does not always mean the end," the old man said as the firelight reflected in his eyes.
Kael watched him silently, feeling the frozen emptiness inside his heart begin to vibrate.
"Sometimes," the old man added mysteriously, "something even stronger is born from it."
At that instant, the forge erupted in a massive burst of flame, blinding Kael for a moment. Within the inferno, deep in the heart of the heat, something briefly took shape: the sharp silhouette of a new peonza far more robust and powerful than Axiom had ever appeared. The fire was not destroying the past—it was preparing to forge something entirely new from it.
Kael felt the shards in his palm begin to heat up, as though responding to the forge's call. The hope that had seemed dead that very morning slowly began to awaken once more.