Six blades moved.
The restraints snapped.
Momentum carried them forward.
John hit the ground first and rolled once before rising.
Erika landed beside him.
Dallas and Jeremiah came through the arch behind them.
Sylvie caught Esmarie as both stumbled through last.
Then everyone stopped.
They had reached the inner garden.
It was enormous.
A circular field of black roses stretched before them, divided by pristine stone paths and surrounded by towering hedges shaped into elaborate spirals. Thorned arches formed a ring around the clearing, while six empty coffins stood evenly spaced along its outer edge. At the center rested a wide elevated platform surrounded by dark flowers.
Fitzgerald stood upon it.
Black Rose rested in his hand.
For the first time since the ultimate began, there were no walls between him and all six Hunters.
Fitzgerald looked down at them.
His expression had lost nearly all of its earlier amusement.
The six Hunters raised their weapons.
They had found him.
The fight began the moment Fitzgerald stepped down from the platform.
Black Rose swept once through the air and the inner garden answered with him. Thorn lines erupted from the stone paths, Funeral Blooms opened along the perimeter, and razor petals filled the space above the six Hunters before they had fully settled into formation. John and Erika pushed forward immediately, Dallas and Jeremiah covering the middle while Sylvie stayed close to Esmarie. For a few seconds, it looked like they might actually establish pressure.
Then Esmarie's legs gave out.
She stumbled once, tried to catch herself, and collapsed before her hands reached the ground. Her borrowed blade slipped from her fingers and clattered across the stone. She had been running on almost nothing for far too long, forcing herself through Reina, the surrounding vampires, Fitzgerald's maze, and every wound accumulated along the way. Her body had finally made the decision for her.
A thorn shot toward her.
John moved.
He broke away from Fitzgerald without hesitation, crossed the distance in a few strides, and cut the thorn apart before it reached Esmarie's chest. He crouched, scooped her unconscious body into one arm, and immediately looked toward everyone else. No one had to say it. There was nowhere inside Garden of the Black Funeral where they could safely leave her.
Erika glanced back.
So did Dallas.
Jeremiah shifted toward John.
Sylvie looked at Esmarie for only a second.
That second was enough.
A thorn erupted from the flowerbed beside her.
Sylvie turned at the last possible moment.
The spike drove through her abdomen.
Sylvie's breath disappeared.
Erika: "Sylvie!"
Sylvie staggered sideways as the thorn tore free. Blood immediately soaked the front of her yukata, but her late movement had changed the angle enough to keep the strike away from anything immediately fatal. It was still a terrible wound, wide and deep enough that blood poured between her fingers the moment she pressed a hand against it.
Sylvie looked down.
Her expression went pale.
She moved quickly anyway.
Her hands reached the top of her yukata and pulled it down from her shoulders, rolling the fabric until she could wrap it tightly around her abdomen. She pulled until the makeshift compression bit into the wound hard enough to slow the bleeding, then tied it as tightly as her trembling fingers allowed. Her breathing became shallow, but she forced herself upright.
Fitzgerald did not give them time to recover.
The inner garden erupted.
Petals came first, a dense black storm from every side. Erika stepped in front of Sylvie and cut through the center while Dallas handled the opposite angle, both swords moving almost continuously as razor petals shattered against steel. Jeremiah knocked aside a vine aimed at John, who still carried Esmarie in one arm, while another Thorn Crucifixion line wrapped around his leg.
John severed it one-handed.
A Funeral Bloom opened above them.
Dallas: "Move!"
They scattered just before the barrage tore through the center of their position.
Sylvie made it three steps.
Her knees almost buckled.
Jeremiah caught her.
Jeremiah: "Easy."
Sylvie: "I'm fine."
Jeremiah looked at the blood already beginning to soak through her improvised bandage.
Jeremiah: "No, you're not."
Black thorns rushed across the stone toward them.
Erika intercepted.
Reaper's Feast cut through the first row.
Dallas destroyed the second.
The third split around them and forced both into separate defensive angles.
They had spent the entire Garden trying to reach Fitzgerald.
They finally had.
And within less than a minute, Esmarie was unconscious and Sylvie had been nearly gutted.
John looked toward the surrounding flowers.
Then Fitzgerald.
Then Esmarie in his arm.
His jaw tightened.
John: "SHIT! GET OUTTA HERE!"
Dallas did not argue.
Dallas: "Retreat!"
Jeremiah immediately crouched in front of Sylvie.
Jeremiah: "Get on! We've gotta escape!"
Sylvie hesitated.
Another petal barrage cut through the roses behind them.
Jeremiah: "Now!"
Sylvie climbed onto his back.
Her arms wrapped weakly around his shoulders.
Jeremiah stood carefully, adjusting his grip beneath her legs without jarring the wound.
Sylvie: "I'm sorry. I was distracted for a second."
Jeremiah: "Don't blame yourself."
He started moving.
Jeremiah: "You fought excellently."
Sylvie rested her forehead against his shoulder.
There was no energy left to argue.
John took the opposite side with Esmarie held against his chest, one arm supporting her while his sword remained ready in the other. She did not stir. Her head rested against his shoulder, completely limp despite the violence surrounding them.
That left Erika and Dallas.
They looked at each other once.
Both understood.
Erika moved first.
Dallas followed.
They became the rear guard.
The Garden closed around the retreat immediately.
Hedges shifted into their path, Thorn Crucifixion anchors opened across the walls, and Funeral Blooms fired from above as if Fitzgerald had decided the maze no longer needed subtlety. Erika cut through anything approaching Jeremiah or Sylvie, while Dallas stayed closer to John and Esmarie, intercepting every restraint that tried to catch the unconscious girl.
Fitzgerald pursued from somewhere behind them.
Not rushing.
He didn't need to.
His entire ultimate was pursuing them for him.
John: "Left!"
Dallas glanced ahead.
John had already turned.
Dallas trusted it.
They followed.
A hedge rose across the new route.
Erika jumped ahead.
Reaper's Feast came down in a heavy diagonal arc and ripped open enough of the black foliage for the others to squeeze through. Dallas stayed behind until Jeremiah cleared the opening, then turned and cut apart a wave of petals before diving through himself.
The hedge closed behind them.
Another corridor appeared.
Then another.
They had already navigated this maze once.
Escaping while carrying two injured people was entirely different.
Jeremiah could not move at full speed with Sylvie on his back. John could, but every time the Garden attacked from Esmarie's side, he had to choose defense over acceleration. Dallas was barely functioning after everything Fitzgerald had already done to him. Erika was the only one who could consistently push the pace, so she repeatedly sprinted ahead, cleared the next hazard, then doubled back to help the others through.
Minutes became longer.
The Garden seemed endless again.
Sylvie's grip around Jeremiah gradually weakened.
He noticed.
Jeremiah: "Stay with me."
Sylvie: "I am."
Her voice was barely audible.
Jeremiah: "Keep talking."
Sylvie: "About what?"
Jeremiah: "Anything."
Sylvie took a shallow breath.
Sylvie: "You're very bossy."
Jeremiah almost laughed.
Jeremiah: "Good. Keep insulting me."
Another Thorn Crucifixion erupted from beneath a rose arch.
Erika destroyed two anchors.
Dallas took the third.
John ducked beneath the final vine without slowing.
They kept moving.
Half an hour passed before the Garden finally began thinning.
The towering hedges shortened.
The polished stone paths gave way to broken asphalt.
Black flowers became scattered clusters instead of endless fields.
Then Erika saw ordinary burning buildings beyond the final wall.
Erika: "There!"
She rushed ahead.
A Funeral Bloom opened over the exit.
Dallas appeared beside her.
Together they cut through the barrage.
John went first with Esmarie.
Jeremiah followed carrying Sylvie.
Erika and Dallas backed through last, blades raised toward the maze as the black hedges twisted behind them.
Then they were out.
The normal burning town had never looked so welcoming.
Sylvie's head had fallen against Jeremiah's shoulder.
Her eyes were barely open.
Erika saw the blood covering her waist.
Erika: "We need to get Sylvie to a medic!"
Dallas looked toward the eastern side of the island.
Dallas: "There should be some at the port."
He glanced back at the Garden.
Its black roses were already shifting.
Dallas: "We need to head there quickly. This vampire isn't going to let us escape."
John immediately took off.
Esmarie remained secure in his arms as he accelerated down the street.
John: "Don't stop moving those feet, even if it kills you."
Jeremiah tightened his grip around Sylvie's legs and followed.
Jeremiah: "I won't!"
Erika ran beside him.
Dallas stayed at the rear.
Behind them, the Garden of the Black Funeral loomed over the burning district.
Ahead waited the eastern port.
And now reaching it alive was the only thing that mattered.
***
To the southwest, another battle had already reached its end.
The small residential district sat between low green hills and open fields, its modest homes scattered along narrow roads beneath rows of trees. It should have been one of the quietest places on Hanabi Island, far removed from the festival crowds and denser streets farther north. Instead, broken doors hung from their hinges, windows had been smashed inward, and blood stained lawns, driveways, and the sides of houses. The last surviving vampires in the area had been surrounded by Diego and a group of Hunters, and one by one, they were cut down.
Diego pulled his blade from the chest of the final vampire.
The body dropped at his feet.
Around him, the other Hunters slowly lowered their weapons. Several were wounded, one leaning heavily against another for support, but everyone in their group was still alive. For a brief moment, the absence of fighting almost felt like relief.
Then Diego looked around.
There were no civilians running toward them.
No doors opening.
No voices calling for help.
One Hunter checked the nearest house.
Another crossed the road toward a second.
The silence stretched.
Hunter: "Nothing."
Another Hunter emerged from behind a damaged home.
He shook his head.
Hunter: "Same here."
Diego's stomach tightened.
They spread throughout the neighborhood.
The answer became worse with every house.
Bodies lay inside kitchens and living rooms. Some had been dragged outside. Others had died trying to reach their cars or escape through backyards. The vampires had not attacked this place because Hunters were stationed here.
They had simply found people.
And killed them.
Diego stopped in front of one home.
The front door had been ripped away entirely.
He stepped inside.
Then froze.
A family lay near the back of the living room.
Two adults.
Children beside them.
No movement.
No chance that any of them were merely unconscious.
Diego stared.
His throat tightened.
He had seen people die before.
He had fought vampires before.
He had known what becoming a Hunter meant.
None of that prepared him for this.
The smell reached him.
His stomach turned violently.
Diego covered his mouth and stumbled back through the doorway.
He made it only a few steps onto the grass before vomiting.
His sword slipped from his hand.
He remained bent over afterward, coughing between heavy breaths while one hand pressed against his stomach. The sounds around him became distant. Hunters searching houses, someone calling out another street, the crackle of damaged electrical lines somewhere nearby.
All Diego could see was that family.
He wiped his mouth with his sleeve.
Diego: "Why the hell am I here…?"
Nobody answered.
He wasn't really asking them.
His hands started shaking.
What had becoming a Hunter actually changed?
He had trained.
Gotten stronger.
Taken missions.
Put himself in danger over and over again.
And he had still arrived too late.
Every person in this neighborhood was dead.
Diego looked toward the bodies of the vampires they had just killed.
For the first time since joining the Hunters, he genuinely wondered whether he should have ever chosen this life at all.
Maybe he wasn't built for it.
Maybe there were things a person shouldn't get used to seeing.
Part of him wanted to leave.
Not retreat strategically.
Not regroup.
Leave.
Get away from the blood, the screaming, the bodies, the burning island, and everything that came with calling himself a Hunter.
Then another voice entered his thoughts.
A voice he hadn't heard in years before they finally found each other again.
Chifuyu.
"Use that strength for something good. You have the power to protect."
Diego closed his eyes.
His breathing was still uneven.
He took one slow breath.
Then another.
Again.
The shaking in his hands didn't completely stop.
That was fine.
He didn't need it to.
Diego straightened.
He looked back toward the house.
The sight still made him sick.
It probably always would.
But Chifuyu hadn't told him that having strength meant he would save everyone.
He had told him to use it for something good.
There were still people alive somewhere on Hanabi.
Still Hunters fighting.
Still civilians trying to reach safety.
Diego picked up his sword.
A Hunter approached from behind him.
Hunter: "You good?"
Diego looked toward the road leading out of the neighborhood.
Diego: "No."
He tightened his grip.
Diego: "But I can keep going."
The Hunter nodded.
That was enough.
Diego started walking.
His thoughts immediately returned to someone else.
Beatrice.
The last time he had seen her, she had stood beside Sazan and chosen to leave with him. He still didn't understand everything he had heard. Athena. Lysander. Reincarnation. Another world.
None of it changed one simple fact.
Beatrice was out there.
And Diego needed to find her.
More than anything else, he needed to see for himself what choice she was really making.
Diego looked back once at the silent neighborhood.
Then forward.
His expression hardened.