Felix staggered as the Rook's colossal frame finally gave way. The ground trembled when it hit, a heavy crash that sent a ripple through the ash-choked air.
For the first time since the battle began, silence began to creep in—broken only by the faint crackle of flames licking at shattered stone and the hollow groan of distant winds.
He opened his mouth to breathe, but instead of air, a violent cough tore its way out of him. Blood sprayed in a dark arc, splattering across the dirt, thick and heavy. Chunks of something wet followed—a reminder that his insides were far more broken than he wanted to admit.
The taste of iron filled his mouth until he gagged on it, crimson dripping down his chin. His body shuddered, each breath rasping like fire scraping raw against his throat.
Felix dropped to his knees beside the corpse. The stench of the Rook was unbearable, the fetid odor of rotting flesh mixed with the acrid tang of its corrupted aura, but he barely noticed.
His head swam too much from disgust. His arms trembled as he pressed a hand to his chest, feeling the frantic hammering of his own heart—like it wanted to claw its way out.
Idiot… The word struck harder than any of the Rook's blows. I fought like a fool.
The images replayed in his mind, jagged flashes of every mistake—the moment his focus split, torn between the fight and the thought of his squad.
The arrogance that told him he could stand toe-to-toe with a Rank Three without burning everything he had. Each decision had bled him out piece by piece, and the battle had made him pay in full.
He let out a laugh then, raw and bitter. It came out ragged, like broken glass scraping his throat. It wasn't the laugh of a victor, but of a man mocking his own stupidity. Alone, covered in blood, with the corpse of a monster beside him, he laughed like a fool, staring at his own grave.
The battlefield answered with silence.
Ash drifted in lazy spirals through the air, settling on cracked stone and the jagged furrows carved by titanic blows. Trees stood shattered, their trunks split down the middle as if some god had hacked them apart.
Craters pocked the ground where their clash had struck with force enough to shatter earth itself. Everything bore the scar of their fight—a reminder of what it cost to bring down just one of these monsters.
Minutes passed. He let the silence stretch, let the ache in his body dull into something almost bearable. His breathing steadied, though each inhale still clawed at him. Finally, with effort that made his arms quake, he pushed himself upright.
The Rook's twisted head loomed at his feet. He crouched and, with grim determination, shoved his hand deep into its ruined skull. His fingers sank into gore until they touched something solid, jagged. He gritted his teeth and tore it free.
A core stone. Rough, imperfect, still faintly pulsing with energy. Felix turned it over in his palm, watching light catch on its fractured surface. Despite the agony pulling at every fiber of his body, he allowed himself the faintest smile.
"At least my suffering wasn't for nothing."
But as quickly as the smile came, it died. He raised his head toward the horizon—the direction where the convoy waited, where his squad still fought against the tide. His jaw tightened, and the faint glow of the stone seemed heavier in his hand than steel.
"Hope you guys are okay…"
His legs screamed in protest as he moved, his first steps uneven, almost causing him to collapse. But he forced them steadily. Tightening his grip on the stone, Felix pushed himself further and continued to move—limping at first, then forcing himself into a run, heading back to where his squad still fought for survival.
….
In another area of the city, something moved at a pace any ordinary human could only dream of. It weaved through trees and broken facades with impossible ease—a tiger, larger than its wild kin, all muscle and silent fury. On its back sat a girl no older than twelve, small hands gripping fur.
Around her shimmered a thin, humming shield of mana—Rea's work—keeping her lungs and bones from tearing under the violence of his speed.
"Mr. Rea, you still haven't told me where we're going," the girl called, wind whipping her voice into a laugh. Her braid streamed behind her like a banner.
Rea didn't answer for a few seconds, not because he couldn't, but because he was threading through an alley so tight the broken streetlamps scraped their flanks. When he did speak, the words came in her smooth, unlike those of a beast. "David needs our assistance."
She clicked her tongue, slipping into a mocking tone. "Oh—didn't he say he could handle everything on his own? 'I don't need help, I got this,' right?" She cocked an eyebrow, exaggeratedly unimpressed.
A chuckle came from Rea. "Bold words from a man who attracts trouble like rot draws flies."
"Bet he's already on his face somewhere, insisting he totally had it under control," she said, chuckling.
"If he isn't, he will be soon," Rea replied dryly.
Her giggle was bright and quick. "Good. I like it when he gets confused."
They traded that small, sharp banter as Rea threaded between the carcasses of cars and the skeletons of storefronts. His paws struck the ground with muffled thunder; the girl felt the world narrow to the blur of motion and the pleasant hum of the shield at her front. The city folded and unfolded like pages of a ruined book.
Then the air changed. Faint at first—a percussion of distant gunfire, a metallic roar, a ragged cry—then louder, closer. Smoke columns stitched the horizon, and the scent of burnt iron rode the wind.
Rea's muscles tightened beneath her; the mana shield brightened, an instantaneous halo that kept her steady as the tiger surged.
"Hold on," Rea said, and the word was both warning and promise.
Seconds later, the battlefield opened before them: a ring of wrecked buildings, screaming metal, and bodies—undead and otherwise—lit in staccato bursts of flame and the ghostly trails of spent mana.
A man in a long, dark coat moved through the chaos like a shadow, his eyes glowing like lanterns. A few distances away, a hulking zombie was also making its way toward the battle, and Rea could see it from the height at which he stood.
The girl leaned forward on his back, eyes wide, shield humming warmly against her spine. "There he is," she murmured—equal parts relief at seeing him okay and wicked amusement. "Tell him, he deserved the trouble."
Rea's tail flicked once, slow and almost indulgent. "Alright, let's go and meet him, came the low reply.
They closed the last distance and dropped like a falling star from the top of the building into the fray, Rea's paws finding purchase on cracked stone as the tiger and rider became another streak of motion towards the chaos.