The Shattered Realm was silent. Broken mountains hovered like jagged teeth against the violet sky, rivers of light ran upside-down through the clouds, and the stars above seemed to pulse in expectation. But Jhonathan felt none of the world's beauty. Only rage. Only betrayal. Only the suffocating weight of every hand that had ever struck him down, mocked him, or left him to die.
He slammed his fists into the obsidian ground. The impact cracked the stone, sending shards spinning into the air. Brunhilde appeared at his side, coiling like liquid gold, sensing the storm inside its master.
"I trusted them," Jhonathan growled. "I gave them everything… and they spat on it. Every last one of them. Ruby… Levincia… all of it!"
The ember in his chest flared violently, burning hot enough to scorch the shadows around him. The whispers of the God of Benevolence rose — calm, measured, almost gentle — but this time, Jhonathan did not seek guidance. He demanded release.
"You promised protection… promised power… promised justice!" he shouted into the violet sky. "Then let me own it! Let me take what I need to survive and to repay every last betrayal!"
The air shimmered. The light in the stars warped. The contract — forged long ago with patience and calculation — responded not to humility, but to fury. The God of Benevolence spoke, not in words but in a roaring pulse that rattled every bone in Jhonathan's body:
"Phase Three… is yours, if you are willing to bear its weight."
The ground beneath him trembled, and Brunhilde's form expanded, claws lengthening, golden wings stretching wide. Jhonathan felt power flood every nerve, searing pain and ecstasy in equal measure. His body felt lighter yet stronger, faster yet more precise. Every scar, every wound, every memory of betrayal became fuel.
When he opened his eyes, they were no longer human. They burned with gold fire, a reflection of the god's mercy turned into wrath. Shadows bent to him. Light obeyed his will. And for the first time, the Shattered Realm itself seemed to recognize him not as a wanderer, but as a force beyond reckoning.
Jhonathan raised a hand, and the air fractured into brilliant shards of violet and gold. The God of Benevolence's aura, tempered by rage, now sang through him, not as guidance, but as a weapon.
"Phase Three… mastered," he whispered, his voice calm but deadly. "And anyone who dares betray me again will know what betrayal costs."
From the distance, a pulse stirred — a massive presence, drawn by the release of such violent energy. The Star of Death above blinked, almost in warning, almost in admiration. Jhonathan's grip on Brunhilde tightened.
"Let them come," he said, stepping onto floating obsidian stones. "The world will learn… that Jhonathan does not kneel, does not forgive, and never dies until he decides."
Golden light and violet shadows spiraled around him, coalescing into a new form — an avatar of wrath tempered by benevolence, a terrifying beauty that made the heavens tremble. The Shattered Realm would remember this moment: the moment the Undying Knight rose beyond mortal limits, fueled by rage, betrayal, and the promise of vengeance.
And somewhere, in the echoes of the stars, the God of Benevolence's voice lingered:
"Use this power wisely, my vessel… or be consumed by it."
Jhonathan smiled, cold and unyielding. Consumed? He already had been. And now, he would burn everything in his path before letting anyone betray him again.