The Last Step-Chapter 75: Rinascita’s Ending

The Swarm Tyrant stepped into the battlefield.

Every step it took was heavy—sickening. Like the ground itself hated carrying its weight. Behind it, grotesques poured in. Taller. Uglier. Evolved. No longer beasts—these were executioners.

The moment it appeared, everyone instinctively stepped back.

Even Celia.

Even Lucas.

A wave of murderous pressure rolled out from the creature like invisible claws scraping against their bones.

[SYSTEM WARNING]: Threat level exceeds estimations. Estimated class: S+. Recommend immediate retreat.

Lucas's jaw clenched. His eye twitched. "S+? Just from its presence...?" Doubt cracked through his confidence.

Navina, barely upright, staggered back, her chest rising and falling rapidly. Her fingers twitched toward her arcflinger, but her knees buckled slightly.

Levi exhaled quietly.

Now or never. If he moved fast enough—if he struck first—maybe he could—

Then his instincts screamed.

A vision flashed in his mind—his leg gone, blood gushing, a death he couldn't dodge.

He froze.

His eyes widened. That thing... predicted me?

The rest of the guilds—dozens of them, from Rinascita and beyond—stood paralyzed. Their courage shrank under the shadow of the impossible battle ahead.

And still, the Swarm Tyrant walked.

Its glare alone felt like poison in the air.

It stopped... and then it spoke.

The voice was not human.

It was layered.

As if multiple throats—cracked and warped—spoke in haunting unison, dragging syllables like rusted blades.

"Which among you bears the scent of curse... and the glow of false divinity?"

Silence.

Then shock.

Eyes turned to Celia. Then to Lucas.

They both realized it—at the same time.

It was hunting them.

The Tyrant moved its head slightly, scanning.

One blink.

Two.

And then—it found them.

"There. I see it. The rot... and the radiance. Together."

It moved.

Faster than a thought.

It blitzed straight toward Celia—its claws out, death in motion. She barely reacted in time. Her cursed instincts roared. Chains erupted from her back, slamming into its path just before the strike landed.

Metal clashed with something far beyond flesh. The blow still sent a shockwave tearing through the earth.

But the monster didn't stop.

It grabbed her chains.

"Why swing your cursed threads... at the void that does not bleed?"

With a single wrench of its arm, it hurled Celia into the sky.

Her body spun, limbs flailing, before she stabilized mid-air and chanted—

"Vile curse—twist and—!"

Too late.

It was already there.

Wings unfolded—bat-like and massive. It launched upward and reached her mid-spell.

Celia's eyes widened.

She summoned thorns and chains, coated them in decaying magic—layer after layer. A full storm of cursed energy.

The Swarm Tyrant tore through it.

It didn't slow.

Didn't flinch.

Didn't care.

Its clawed hand closed around her throat.

CRACK.

Celia's body went stiff.

Her skin paled immediately as pressure crushed down on her windpipe. Pain shot through her, neck spasming. She barely got out a word.

"...Kh—!"

It pulled back, and with a monstrous snarl—hurled her straight downward.

She hit the ground like a meteor.

BOOM.

A crater formed instantly. Dust exploded upward. Her chains snapped wildly.

Then—

The grotesques screamed and charged.

Rinascita fell into chaos.

Guild members screamed, some sliced apart in the first clash. Blood sprayed. Screeches filled the stormy sky. Limbs, steel, and magic collided.

And at the center of it—The Tyrant stood still.

Its wings spread.

Its claw dripping.

"This ends here... you all are my prey."

Grotesques screamed.

They leapt on the nearest guild members, claws ripping through steel and flesh. A woman screamed—then gurgled, her throat torn open. A young adventurer tried to run, but was tackled and devoured. Bone snapped. Blood hit the walls.

Lucas and Levi surged forward, their priority shifting—save who you can.

But it was already too late for dozens.

Then—two silver flashes tore through the storm.

Xander and Alina.

They shot in like twin blades of light, a blur of cold fire and measured steps.

"Don't hold back," Alina said sharply, her voice like steel in the wind.

Xander lazily tilted his head, cracking his neck. "Wasn't planning on it... though a nap sounds better."

The Swarm Tyrant turned toward them, and for the first time—paused.

Alina was already there.

Her sword shimmered with an unknown technique—four layers of magic entwined into one strike.

"Piercing Line: Celestial Spiral!"

A streak of golden light erupted, spinning forward in a spiral, precise and fast.

The Swarm Tyrant sidestepped—barely—only to catch Xander's blade from behind.

"Flame Echo: Shift Step."

Xander's sword shifted mid-swing into fire, then ice, then lightning, each hit crashing into the monster's side, cracking some of its scales.

It hissed.

Not in pain.

In amusement.

"You dance... well... MASTER of toys... SLAVE of forms... But this... is not your stage."

Its tail whipped around—Alina ducked, her eyes calculating a counters in an instant.

"Xander—up!"

Xander didn't question. He vanished in a blink.

The Tyrant's claw swiped the air—only to meet nothing.

Above, Xander dropped like a meteor.

"Sunder Flame: Heaven Cleave."

He slammed down, sword coated in roaring fire.

A blinding explosion.

Dust.

Silence.

Then the Tyrant emerged from the smoke—its arm partially cut, bleeding black.

But grinning.

It didn't move as it was instantly regenerated.

It let them come.

Alina moved in—three-step pattern, blades changing shape mid-strike.

"Reverse Bloom: Mirror Fang!"

Every motion flawless. Beautiful. Cold.

Yet the Tyrant simply caught her sword.

"Predictable."

Its hand crushed the blade—and slammed Alina with its elbow.

She flew back, blood spitting from her lips, crashing into the dirt.

Xander shouted. "Oi!"

His blade met the Tyrant's again—but this time, it moved.

Fast.

Too fast.

One strike to Xander's ribs—bones cracked.

A clawed foot slammed him down—face-first.

Then the Tyrant grabbed his head—and slammed it into the ground.

Once.

Twice.

Blood spread beneath.

"You learn... WELL," it said coldly. "But knowledge means... nothing... if DEATH is your teacher."

Alina tried to rise, coughing blood. "Get... off of him..."

She launched a final technique—"Infinity Bloom: Breaking Lotus!"

But the Tyrant blurred past it and punched her in the stomach with enough force to send her skipping like a stone across the battlefield.

They both collapsed.

Sylvia screamed Alina's name but she was being overwhlemed trying to defend herself and her guild members.

Levi and Lucas stood frozen.

The ground around them burned. Screams echoed from the ruins.

And two of their strongest—Were down.

Dead silence.

Then, a low growl came from the Tyrant as it turned toward the rest.

"NEXT YOU."

The rain was no longer gentle. It howled. Wind ripped through the ruins of Rinascita as if mourning what was about to happen. Lightning cracked the skies open in violent flashes. And beneath that storm, the Swarm Tyrant turned its dead, glistening eyes to her.

Navina.

Her skin crawled. Every instinct she'd ever trained screamed to run.

But she stood.

Soaked, trembling, coughing from the rain that seeped into her bones, she raised her arms. Her fingers flickered. One, two—two arcflingers materialized—one humming with frost, the other kindled with blistering elementals. Both elemental guns pulsed with raw energy, built from magic, bound by genius design. She switched them within milliseconds. She always did.

Her blue eyes glowed under the storm's fury. Even now, there was no fear in them—only the cold discipline of a warrior who had trained for this.

"...Sword Saint of Reflex," the Swarm Tyrant muttered, its voice like blood sliding over broken glass. "The twitching insect... you will die here."

Navina didn't answer. She couldn't. Her lungs wheezed as she stepped forward, her boots splashing in the shallow pools of blood and rain.

Suddenly—

The Tyrant lunged.

It flew at her from above—sharp limbs first, death incarnate. But the moment it entered range, her instincts exploded. The world slowed.

—Tilt back. Duck right. Shoot.

She flipped backward, left arm raised—an arcflinger of frost firing a blast that barely missed its neck. The ice struck the tree behind it, freezing it instantly.

Again.

Switch. Fire. Switch. Fire.

Left hand, fire arcflinger. Right hand, sword.

Her feet flow over wet ground like lightning bolts in human form. Arcflingers flickered into existence, fired, vanished, and reformed in new elemental forms. Flame exploded against the Tyrant's wing. Water blasted its undercarriage, then wind curved shots around its erratic movements.

It hissed.

Annoyed.

"You flitter... little leaf," it said, voice rising. "Reflexes... reflexes... what are they when your friends... rot?"

Navina clenched her jaw.

Behind her—guild members screamed as grotesques tore them apart. One was impaled. Another pulled under a collapsing building. A girl called for help and was silenced mid-word. Eaten alive by the grotesque.

Navina's eyes burned—but she never looked back.

"Keep... looking at me..." she coughed. fɾeewebnoveℓ.co๓

Lightning struck behind her as she launched into the air, her coat flaring as she twisted, shot two blasts mid-air—one freezing part of the Tyrant's leg, the other grazing its wing. The recoil knocked her back. She somersaulted, landed with one knee sliding.

But the Tyrant vanished.

Ambush.

Above.

She twisted to shoot—but it was too close.

The claws came down. She dodged—barely. It grazed her side, slicing cloth and flesh. She bled. But she didn't stop. Two new guns, water and thunder this time, appeared in her hands.

She shot. The water soaked its wings. The thunder cracked—and shocked the wet area, stunning it slightly.

A brilliant move.

But the monster laughed.

"...Reflexes... react to what is seen. But what of poison... felt?"

Its main jaw lunged. She parried it with her sword, rolled—got back—but not fast enough.

The sub-jaw struck from the side—clamping down on her shoulder.

Her scream was swallowed by thunder.

The Tyrant's fangs dug deep. Bone cracked. A green glow pulsed into her veins.

Poison.

Lethal.

Her knees buckled.

Navina gasped, sword trembling. Her gun evaporated. One hand reached up, weakly trying to pull it off.

It stared at her, eyes blinking out of rhythm. "Now... slow forever."

Suddenly, a burst of pure magic ripped through the side—forcing the Tyrant back.

Lucas.

He stood in the rain, hair drenched, teeth clenched. His green eyes glowed with murderous runes, his body radiating pressure.

But it was too late.

Navina collapsed, barely caught by Lucas. Her eyes were dull. Her lips pale.

He stared at her wound. The veins already turning black.

Lucas whispered, "Don't you die here..."

Her lips trembled.

"I-I-I'm... s-s-sorry... L-Lucas... e-everyone..."

The storm raged around them.

And Lucas stood slowly, laying her down. His fists clenched.

His voice cut through the thunder.

"You're next."

His eyes locked on the Tyrant.

---- Lucas's Perspective:

「System: Initiating full restore. Mana reawakening in progress.」

A surge of energy coursed through me, revitalizing my body and sharpening my senses. The weight of previous failures pressed heavily on my shoulders.

If only I had been stronger, perhaps Navina wouldn't have suffered....

The Swarm Tyrant's gaze bore into me, its voice a guttural rasp that resonated with malevolence.

"So, you're the gift of heavens?"

I met its gaze, unwavering. "Final last words."

Without warning, it lunged, a blur of motion. Anticipating its attack, I activated Lightstep skill, propelling myself sideways as its claws sliced through the space I'd just occupied.

「System: Enemy exhibits erratic movement patterns. Suggest adaptive strategy.」

I nodded internally, already formulating a plan. Channeling light magic, I conjured a series of reflective barriers, positioning them strategically around the battlefield.

These mirrors would amplify and redirect my attacks, creating a web of lethal light.

The Tyrant snarled, momentarily disoriented by the sudden proliferation of reflections. Seizing the opportunity, I launched a concentrated beam of light, which ricocheted off the mirrors, striking the creature from multiple angles.

It roared in pain, but its regeneration was swift, wounds closing almost as quickly as they appeared.

「System: Regeneration rate is formidable. Recommend targeting vital points to impede healing.」

Understood.

Switching tactics, I infused my light daggers with elemental magic—fire to cauterize, ice to freeze, and lightning to disrupt. Engaging in close combat, I aimed for joints and tendons, seeking to cripple its mobility.

The Tyrant retaliated with ferocity, its claws and fangs a whirlwind of death. I parried and dodged, each movement calculated, each counterstrike precise.

「System: Mana levels at 70%. Caution advised.」

I couldn't let up. Drawing upon celestial magic, I summoned a radiant spear, hurling it with all my might. It pierced the Tyrant's abdomen, eliciting a guttural scream.

But it wasn't enough.

The creature lunged again, and this time, its claws grazed my side, tearing through flesh. Pain lanced through me, but I gritted my teeth, refusing to yield.

We stood, bloodied and battered, the storm raging around us. The Swarm Tyrant's eyes glowed with fury, and I met its gaze with unwavering determination.

This battle was far from over.

The world blurred around me. The rain hadn't stopped—it was only getting worse. Cold, suffocating. Like the weight on my chest.

Behind me... I heard them.

Screams. Not guild members. Not fighters.

Innocents.

Children wailing. A woman sobbing. A man choking in his last breath as something tore through him.

My hands clenched.

Dammit.

I couldn't turn around. Not now. The Swarm Tyrant stood in front of me—unrelenting, calculating. Every second I gave it was another life lost behind me.

"If only I was stronger..." I muttered, blood and rain dripping from my jaw. "If I just had more destructive power—"

The Tyrant moved.

But not like before.

Its entire rhythm shifted—gone was the erratic, swerving movement, the insect-like darting and lunging. Now it charged. Head-on. Claws ready. No more distractions.

Just violence.

「Warning: Enemy fighting style change detected. Switching to high-aggression melee patterns. Minimal reaction delay. Recommend abandoning reflection-based magic temporarily.」

"Tch—!"

My mirrors weren't positioned in time. One misfire, and I'd roast myself in my own magic. I dismissed the arrays instantly, forming twin daggers of hardlight in my hands. Light surged through me as I reinforced my body, preparing for the close-range onslaught.

The Tyrant struck.

I met it head-on.

Steel met bone. Light against claw. Each blow rang like thunder in the storm, sparks dancing through the darkness. It pressed forward with relentless aggression, forcing me onto the defensive. My daggers parried its claws, my footwork danced between its legs, but its momentum was terrifying.

Suddenly, it jumped.

No—kicked the ground beneath it. A shockwave rippled outward as its weight exploded upward, launching into the air—and then, with its torn wings beating through the wind—

It soared.

My eyes widened.

「Mimicking your maneuver used against Subject: Celia. Predicting downward compression strike. Impact radius: 6 meters. Lethality: 92%.」

"Solutions?!"

「Deploy 3-part evasion: Step 1—Water Elemental Surge. Compress moisture under feet. Step 2—Directional release into horizontal burst. Step 3—Use remaining momentum to spiral out of impact zone. Minimal damage expected.」

I didn't hesitate.

With a quick pivot, I called forth water magic, freezing the rain at my feet into a condensed plate and burst it sideways—launching my body just as the Tyrant slammed down, claws-first.

It missed—barely.

One claw grazed my forearms, tearing through flesh like it was nothing. The pain bit deep, but I grit my teeth, tumbling into the mud and rolling to my feet.

We landed across from each other again—mud, blood, storm, and breath steaming in the air between us.

I could do this. The bastard bled too. I'd seen it—my light had pierced him. It wasn't impossible. Not yet.

I stood taller.

Then—cough.

Thick blood splattered onto my palm. Warm. Viscous. Wrong.

I staggered.

"What...?"

「Analyzing...」

I dropped to one knee, my chest rising fast, lungs burning. The edges of my vision swam.

「Divine Protection: Adaptive Venom Synthesis, currently active. Enemy venom detected. Status: Multiplying. Defensive adaptation ongoing, but unable to purge source before replication completes. Current stat output: 30%. Estimated reduction increasing.」

"Thirty—percent?!"

Another cough. More blood. My body wasn't healing—it was mutating. Trying to keep up. But the venom... the venom evolved faster than my divinity could.

I looked up.

The Swarm Tyrant's eyes were on me again. It started walking.

Each step sent my senses screaming.

I tried to move. Legs protested. Lungs spasmed. I could feel it. The adaptation was working... but not fast enough.

Each breath I took was a countdown.

It lunged.

And then—its head jerked violently to the right.

Something moved.

A blur. Not me.

Someone.

Even the Tyrant seemed momentarily caught off guard. Its torso twisted, legs bracing, wings snapping out for balance as it met the oncoming force—A god-speed figure.

And the storm split.

-------------- Levi

The wind howled. Rain slammed down in sheets. Thunder cracked like war drums.

And Levi—was gone.

To the human eye, it looked like the wind blinked. One second, he stood near Lucas's battered form. The next—

Clang!

A flash of black steel met the Swarm Tyrant's claws mid-lunge, sparking loud enough to crackle across the battlefield.

Levi's feet skidded in the mud, his dark hair soaked, clinging to his jaw. Shadow wrapped around his legs like smoke, enhancing his momentum. His voice was calm.

"You're slower than I expected."

The Tyrant shrieked—a high, scraping insect wail.

Levi moved again.

God-speed.

It wasn't just fast—it was impossible. His blade flashed through the storm like a streak of obsidian lightning, bending around the beast, through its blind spots, vanishing into the fog and reappearing with every strike.

Shadow magic veiled him—erasing his form for fractions of seconds. Enough to slip past claws. Enough to fade through the gaps in its guard.

The Tyrant struck back with brute force—sweeps and lunges that shook the air—but Levi was faster. His blade bit deep. Once in the jaw. Again near the wing. Then through the thigh.

Clang. Slice. Crack. Repeat.

One minute. Over a thousand strikes.

His breaths grew heavier, his sides torn and bleeding, one shoulder half-dislocated from a mistimed parry—but Levi didn't stop.

He didn't know stop.

"Everyone else has already done their part," Levi muttered, sword raised. "Now it's my turn to burn you."

The Swarm Tyrant hissed, its armor shredded in places—but not where it mattered. Levi's blade had hit home over and over, but it learned. Adapted. It let him strike—but only its hardest plates. It absorbed the damage like a puzzle fitting itself together mid-battle.

Claw met sword. Sword met claw.

A brutal, physical rhythm.

Then—Levi changed position. Slower this time. Intentionally.

It noticed.

And followed.

Exactly as planned.

As the Tyrant lunged forward, Levi let shadow magic wrap his feet, skidding him across the ground to a precise angle. He dropped low, raising his voice just enough.

"Lucas. Now."

---------- Lucas's Perspective:

The bastard took the bait.

Even half-poisoned, kneeling in pain, I didn't waste the moment.

My hand lifted weakly. The mirrors had been pre-placed. Angles calculated. The system had done the heavy lifting.

All I had to do was trust it—and pull the trigger.

「 Mirror Array: Complete. Trajectory confirmed. Target locked. Commencing refracted penetration beam. 」

Light split the rain.

A thin beam—no thicker than a hair—passed clean through the Swarm Tyrant's chest.

A second of silence.

Then—detonation.

BOOM.

The light ruptured through its torso in a burst of divine brilliance, snapping chitin and rupturing one of its inner hearts. The creature shrieked, wings faltering, body stumbling—

But before we could breathe—It moved.

Faster than expected. Angrily.

One claw lashed out and grabbed Levi mid-air.

"No—!"

Levi swung—but it was too late.

Crunch.

I heard it.

The sound of bone bending the wrong way. His legs—both—snapped backwards. Not at the knee. Not at the ankle. Clean through the thigh.

His scream—

It wasn't just pain. It was rage. Regret.

The Swarm Tyrant slammed him into the ground, holding him down like a shattered doll. Blood mixed with the rain, pooling under his body. He didn't move.

My vision blurred.

"No. No, no—"

Before I could rush forward—

The Tyrant turned.

Then—without hesitation—grabbed a grotesque from the pile of dead beside it.

And bit into it.

Bone cracked. Flesh tore.

It devoured one of its own kind in full.

I stared in horror.

The wound in its chest began to seal.

Sinew knit. Flesh regenerated. The hole from my mirror shot—the only real damage we'd done—

Gone.

「 ...Regeneration rate restored. Primary wound no longer viable. Recommend retreat. 」

I didn't move.

I couldn't speak.

I just looked at it.

The Swarm Tyrant stood tall again. Wings half-torn, limbs soaked in blood. But alive.

And Levi—

Was not breathing.

They're all down. Every single one of them.

Alina. Xander. Navina. Levi. Everyone.

I stood in the middle of a ruined deathground—guild members scattered like shredded paper, grotesques pouring in through broken gates, Rinascita burning from the inside out.

The Sword Saints were down.

The adventurers were dead.

The people—innocents—screaming, running, dying.

I clenched my fists so hard my nails broke skin.

"This can't—this can't be happening—!"

My throat burned. My legs shook. My body wasn't responding fast enough.

"System!" I screamed out. "Remove the damn poison!"

「 Unable to comply. Venom strain replicating at nonlinear growth. Best compromise: 50% combat functionality. Awaiting command. 」

"Then fucking do it!"

My body jolted as the system released its last overrides, flushing adrenaline through every inch of me. Pain seared up my sides. The world bent—but I moved.

Lightstep.

I vanished—then reappeared right in front of it, blade of light formed mid-motion, aiming straight for its chest.

But—

It dodged.

Effortlessly.

Its arm shot out and grabbed me by the head.

My feet left the ground.

Pressure.

Crushing.

Its clawed fingers wrapped tighter and tighter around my skull, like a vice made of steel and rage. My vision blurred red.

"You're the strongest among the weak," it muttered. Cold. Arrogant. I felt my mana collapsing inside me, reflexes flickering.

「 Health: 28%. Warning: Skull pressure nearing fracture threshold. 」

I screamed inside my mind.

Every part of me boiled with hate.

The Swarm Tyrant leaned in, its breath like acid, its voice venomous and slow.

"I was told the cursed one would be stronger. But I was wrong. She died pretty pathetically. Just like the others."

My heart froze.

Celia?

No... she was gone the moment it attacked. That thing went straight for her—first.

It knew. It knew she was dangerous.

And it left me for last... because it didn't see me as a threat.

"You've only lasted this long because you could defend yourself," it said, voice twisting into disdain. "Your attacks were weak."

It lifted me higher—bones groaning under the strain.

"It's time to die."

The pressure intensified. I felt my skull begin to crack.

And then—BOOM.

A violent explosion detonated in black, the air thick with dark mana and ash. The entire zone around us shattered—a burst of death and frost rushing outward.

The grip around my head vanished.

I dropped.

Rolled. Gasped. My hand dug into the wet dirt, barely staying conscious. Smoke clouded everything.

And then—

From the smoke—Two red eyes.

No whites.

Just pitch-black sclera and crimson pupils, staring like death incarnate.

Chains slithered out from the void. One of them—layered in fire and frost—shot forward in a blink.

It moved inhumanly fast.

Slash.

The Swarm Tyrant's arm dropped to the ground—severed clean through.

I hit the earth hard, panting.

Then I looked up and saw her.

Celia.

Her white hair was drenched in blood. Her clothes torn, her body battered, but standing. Breathing. Alive.

Barely.

But her presence?

That wasn't Celia.

That was something else.

The Queen of Curses had returned—but twisted. Rage incarnate.

Her eyes were void.

Emotionless.

No mercy. No hesitation. No sanity.

Just vengeance.

「 Combat potential restored to 60%. Last regeneration protocol initiated. HP at 250. 」

I didn't care.

I stared at her.

And I understood.

Her attacks weren't just powerful. They were chaotic. Absolute. The kind of destruction I couldn't produce.

But she could.

The devastation I needed...

Was standing right in front of me. And if we worked together... we can win.

The Swarm Tyrant lunged again—those serrated wings slicing through the air like guillotines.

I blinked to the left with Lightstep, mirrors shattering around me mid-air and reforming, scattering beams of compressed light through the storm. Two hit.

Right shoulder. Ribs. Good.

The Tyrant flinched—but only barely. Its regeneration was already working overtime—except the arm. The one Celia severed.

That one wasn't healing.

I twisted around and caught sight of her again.

Chains flooded the battlefield like living serpents, glowing with frost and embers. They slammed toward the Swarm Tyrant, forcing it to keep moving, darting, deflecting, dodging.

She was pushing it.

Hard.

I adjusted my mirror angle, ricocheting another beam from the left.

Strike.

Another hit. Chest. It stumbled again.

This was working—barely.

"Celia!" I shouted through the wind, slashing through a grotesque on my right. "We need to fight together! Work with me!"

No reply.

She didn't even glance at me.

Her chains curled around her body like wings made of damnation. Her movements were almost inhuman now—feral, sharpened by trauma.

"Celia, dammit!" I shouted again, blood dripping from my jaw. "Are you even listening!? Fight by my side!"

No response.

Instead, she charged.

Straight at the Swarm Tyrant.

I almost yelled at her again—What the hell was she thinking!? Close combat?!

Then she jumped, her chain coiled like a whip around her wrist, and she brought it down—

CRACK.

A direct hit to the Tyrant's skull.

Its head snapped sideways with the force.

And just as it reached out to grab her leg—

Slice.

Its other hand dropped to the ground, severed mid-motion.

Chains slithered from the soil like a nest of snakes, a trap she'd laid moments before.

Laced with black rot.

Withering Touch.

It staggered—its movement slowed, faltering. Even its regeneration looked delayed.

「 Analysis: Her combat style is adapting in real-time. Strategic use of chain-traps, environmental manipulation, and reactive curse embedding. Compared to earlier logs, all prior inefficiencies have been resolved. Estimated: Demon-tier adaptability. 」

I blinked, barely parrying a grotesque's claw.

"...So that's her power," I muttered under my breath. "Not just curses. Not just madness. But adaptation itself."

Then—trouble.

A wave of grotesques surged from the right—mindless, clawed abominations.

"Celia, look out!"

She spun, but they were already too close.

She jumped back—one claw swiped across her thigh, another across her arm. She hit the ground hard, skidding through the blood-slicked mud, landing on one knee.

Blood spilled.

Her chains twitched, less fluid.

「 Alert: Celia's physical defense is minimal. Unlike you, she lacks hard internal reinforcement systems. Her survivability depends entirely on high-speed offense. 」

I looked down at my own body—burning, injured, poisoned—but still standing.

Still defending.

She, on the other hand, was—

Pure carnage.

Unrelenting attack, zero armor.

No wonder she burned so bright.

We were...

"Opposites," I muttered.

I launched another mirror shard through a grotesque's head, then glanced at her again—blood on her lips, hatred in her eyes, still rising even with broken ribs.

"The difference between heaven and hell..."

One built to endure.

One built to destroy.

And if we were going to win—

Then the angel and the devil would have to fight as one.

A chain snapped past my shoulder, brushing the wind with fire-laced frost. I blasted a grotesque off its feet and jumped, reorienting my mirrors.

"Celia!" I shouted again, cutting through the storm. "We need to coordinate!"

She didn't answer. Her chains whipped forward, ensnaring the Swarm Tyrant's leg before it could lunge—pulling it to the side and slamming it into the scorched earth with a roar of rage.

She lunged at it again, blades of darkened metal forming from the tips of her chains.

"I said—don't ignore me!" I leapt beside her, parrying one of the Tyrant's claws that nearly tore into her ribs. "You're gonna get yourself killed fighting like that!"

She looked at me finally—her blood-soaked hair whipping across her face, black sclera gleaming.

"Then stay out of my way."

I grabbed her wrist, mid-motion, just before her chain flew again. "Are you insane?! You can't win this alone!"

Her eyes narrowed like daggers.

"I know that." She hissed. "But I don't need you slowing me down."

"Slowing you—?" I blinked in disbelief. "Do you see what we're fighting!? You're bleeding out, your body's shaking, and you think I'm the dead weight!?"

"I'm still moving, aren't I!?" she snapped back. "That thing took everything from me. I'm not stopping until its head is gone."

We both dodged as the Swarm Tyrant's wings slashed down like guillotines. I formed a mirror mid-air and reflected a beam—direct hit. It growled, part of its shoulder burning.

Celia chained its foot again, tugging it off balance.

"Then let me help," I gritted out. "I'm not asking you to stop. Just—fight with me. Like a team."

"A team?" she muttered. "You wanted to kill me."

"What?"

"Just moments earlier we were about to kill each other," her voice was quiet—hurt and bitter even as she fought. "You treated me like I was weak. Like I couldn't make my own decisions."

"Celia—"

"I don't need your protection, Lucas. I need that thing dead. And if you're not helping me do that, get out of my way."

The Swarm Tyrant let out a snarl and lunged—claws raking toward her exposed side.

"Move!" I shouted, blasting forward and reflecting a mirror into its jaw. Celia chained herself backward just in time.

We landed back to back, breath ragged, surrounded by grotesques and stormfire.

I spoke low. "You think I don't see you now? You think I'm blind to what you're doing out here?"

"Then stop trying to save me."

"I'm not. I'm trying to survive with you."

She paused. Just for a heartbeat.

Her chains danced again—coiling around the Tyrant's wounded arm and tearing what was left.

I followed up—mirror shards blitzed in a triangle, hitting the chest, shoulder, and left wing.

It screamed.

The wind screeched. Chains cracked in the storm like thunder given steel. Celia's next strike almost connected—

But the Swarm Tyrant beat its wings once. Just once.

And vanished upward.

I squinted, following the arc as the rain parted around it—no, fled from it. The grotesque storm that swallowed Rinascita bowed to its king like a curtain in reverse. Black lightning danced in its wake as it climbed through the sky, roaring louder than the wind.

Then it screamed.

A piercing, primal howl. The kind that made blood remember what extinction felt like.

My skin broke out in cold sweat. Even Celia flinched, lowering her chains for the first time.

「 Alert: Target undergoing rapid regenerative synthesis. Physical stats increasing beyond original projection. Current threat level... recalibrated. 」

The screen flickered in the corner of my vision.

「 Estimated stat increase: +200%. Objective: Survival. 」

I exhaled once through my nose, slow and measured.

...So we're past the whole 'kill it' plan now.

Above us, flesh twisted. Armor split apart like burned obsidian—exposing veins of radiant black ichor underneath. Its claws grew, longer, refined like surgical blades. Wings sharpened, almost crystalline, shimmering like a mantis made of onyx and hatred. Its chest cracked open into a second mouth full of screaming tendrils. Its face—if you could call it that—had no eyes now.

Only an empty crown of jagged bone and an expression carved by the void itself.

It descended.

No. Landed.

Like a god coming home to hell.

The weight of it crushed the plaza. Cobblestones exploded outward. Grotesques scattered. Buildings cracked at the base. Even the wind buckled, shifting as if the storm bowed again—this time in terror.

I stepped back.

Celia barely managed to stay standing. Her knees trembled. She cast a cursed healing spell over her chest, panting through blood-soaked lips.

A dull spark fizzled and died in her palm.

「 Notification: Ambient mana flow is compromised. Healing attempts will fail. 」

I gritted my teeth. "What?"

「 The rain. It's not natural. Area-wide interference is being caused by a metaphysical inhibitor embedded in the stormfront. Healing spells cannot channel properly. Mana circulation is disrupted— 」

Then the system paused. A second passed.

「 Clarification: This storm was crafted. The rain is suppressing regenerative magic on purpose. Likely cause—external magical force amplifying fatality. 」

Sabotage.

My heart stopped for a beat.

That's why Alina never recovered. That's why Xander went down so fast. That's why Levi's body still hasn't healed.

Even I should've died.

「 You are unaffected due to soul-bound healing override linked to system core. Others do not share this privilege. 」

So whoever planned this... they didn't just unleash a Tyrant.

They made sure no one could stand back up.

The sky crackled.

The Swarm Tyrant took a single step forward, talons sinking into stone like it was wet paper. Its second mouth opened and let out a low, guttural noise. I felt it in my spine more than I heard it.

Celia tried to move. Her body failed. She collapsed to one knee.

The chain in her hand trembled like it wanted to keep fighting even if she couldn't.

---------------------------------------

Black clouds churned above like boiling ink. Lightning split the sky in jagged arcs that lit the battlefield in sickening flashes. The rain was a downpour now—thick, suffocating, cold as death.

The Swarm Tyrant moved.

No scream this time.

Just motion. Instant. Terrifying.

Celia whipped her chains toward it, faster than I could see—she'd learned, adapted, cornered her mistakes into weapons. But it didn't matter.

The Swarm Tyrant appeared in front of her mid-attack. Not teleported. Not blinked. It moved—faster than her thoughts.

Her chain clattered uselessly to the ground.

Its claw wrapped around her throat.

"CELIA!" I dashed forward, mirrors forming all around me. Five, then ten. Each of them humming with light energy—

The Swarm Tyrant didn't even glance at me.

Its grip tightened around Celia's neck, lifting her off the ground as if she were weightless.

Her boots scraped against the dirt, gasping—

I triggered Lightstep, blinking into melee range, a mirror-blade drawn and aiming directly for the Tyrant's exposed ribs. It wouldn't regenerate fast if I struck that same point—

But I never got close.

「 Warning. Speed threshold exceeded. Incoming—! 」

Too late.

I didn't even see its movement.

All I saw was red.

Pain shot through my entire chest.

I froze mid-air, coughing. Something warm splattered from my mouth—blood. My eyes looked down on instinct.

Its hand.

Its goddamn hand had gone clean through my chest.

Out the other side.

Ribs shattered.

My mirrors flickered and died.

「 Alert: HP critical. Vital organs compromised. Damage Level: Fatal. Emergency regenerative protocol engaged. Divine Protections fully active. Estimated survivability: 2 HP. 」

Even my defenses hadn't been enough.

The Tyrant yanked its arm free from my torso. I dropped to the ground like a doll with cut strings. My knees buckled.

I couldn't breathe.

My vision swam.

"C-Ce...lia..."

I turned just in time to see her.

She'd summoned another chain, forcing it around the Tyrant's leg with all her strength. Her eyes were burning, sclera blackened and bleeding, her entire body trembling.

The Tyrant stared at her. No amusement. No emotion.

It grabbed her by the head—

And slammed her into the ground.

Once.

She screamed.

Twice.

Her arms went limp.

Three.

Her chain shattered.

Four.

Blood sprayed from her scalp. Bones cracked.

I crawled forward. "S-ST—!"

Five.

Six.

I couldn't move.

I couldn't move.

「 HP: 2. Movement disabled. Strength failure across all limbs. No further divine protections available. 」

My fingers clawed against the ground.

Her face—her eyes—still stared back at me.

Bleeding.

Empty.

But alive.

Alive and still resisting, even as tears of blood rolled from her eyes.

She never gave up.

Even while being crushed like a broken doll.

I reached toward her.

My arm dropped uselessly.

And then, everything went silent.

My body hit the dirt. I felt nothing.

The rain.

The wind.

Her screams.

It all faded.

The Tyrant stood above us.

Victorious.

And my vision...Blurred into darkness.

But just before it closed—A memory slammed into me like thunder.

That day.

Years ago.

Back in the academy.

Me and Rose.

We crushed her class—humiliated Elfie.

She cried all her heart out. Completely broken. Betrayed by her own class. Hurt by her own friends.

She hugged him.

Him...

He stood in front of her.

His hand gripped her shoulder, softly brushing her tears away and he said it softly—

"I won't let anyone make you cry again."

His eyes turned black that day.

Pitch black.

Like the end of time itself.

He looked at me. And Rose.

And then I remembered.

The words that made my soul shiver—

"No one can save you now." Kaiser said that day...

Then my body fell.

And everything went black.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The Swarm Tyrant stood in the heart of ruin.

The storm above Rinascita churned endlessly, lightning bathing the broken earth in brief, violent flashes. The blood of heroes soaked the soil. Ash floated like dead snow.

Silence.

It tilted its head upward, wings folded loosely behind its back. A second passed—then a low, guttural sound escaped its throat.

Triumph.

A single gesture.

It raised one clawed hand toward the heavens—and every grotesque on the battlefield stopped. Then moved. As one. Their heads twisted unnaturally in the direction of the city. The command was silent, but absolute.

Erase it.

Burn Rinascita to the ground.

The grotesques charged, swarming toward the town like a tide of shadows.

For a brief second, the Swarm Tyrant's gaze wandered to the battlefield's edge—where a girl with silver-white hair kneeled beside the corpse of her comrades, trembling.

Sylvia.

It side-eyed her.

Weak. Irrelevant.

Not worth a flick of its claw.

It turned its attention back to the goal.

Its clawed hand reached down and grabbed—first Lucas, then Celia—by the hair. Their bodies dangled limply, unconscious, bloodied, broken in ways no mortal body should have survived. They were dolls now. Souvenirs of victory.

The Tyrant looked at them.

And within its mind—one thought slithered through: "Lord called me a copy. A failed imitation. A reflection of my superior."

A pause.

"Lord was wrong."

It grinned—a grotesque, twitching motion of split muscle and cracked chitin.

"I've proved it. I am no copy. I am his equal."

Its wings spread wide—dark, barbed, insectile, and unnatural. The air trembled beneath the force.

With the unconscious forms of Celia and Lucas dangling from its arms, it lifted from the earth with a slow, sinister grace. The crater where they'd fallen smoldered below.

"The cursed one," it thought, glancing at Celia's blood-soaked face, "was annoying. Cost more effort than expected. But she will die soon enough."

It stared at her for a moment longer.

Still bleeding.

Still breathing.

Barely.

"No one will come for her. No one can. Not where we're going."

It flew.

The wind screamed past as the Swarm Tyrant ascended, lightning catching on its wings like veins of fire.

Ahead—an endless swarm gathered.

A hive of grotesques stretching beyond the eye's reach. Towering spires of bone and flesh, moving and breathing as one. A place of madness.

A tomb.

Humans couldn't enter.

Those who did never returned.

It was the layer—their hive.

The Swarm Tyrant hovered above it now. Triumphant.

Victorious.

"I have done as commanded. I have delivered them. I have ended the resistance. I await my Lord's arrival. I... have fulfilled my purpose."

It looked down.

At Rinascita, soon to be ash.

At Celia, unconscious in its claw.

And Lucas, his chest torn open.

Then—

A tremor.

Not of earth.

But of feeling.

A strange shift in the atmosphere—like a breeze slicing through dimensions. It brushed the air for only a second. Cold. Ancient. Personal.

The Swarm Tyrant froze midair.

Its eye twitched.

"...What was that?"

Its vision slowly dropped to the girl in its grip.

Celia.

Blood still leaked from her mouth. Her fingers barely twitched. Eyes closed.

But for just a fraction of a second—there was something.

Something wrong.

Something off.

The Tyrant stared at her.

A tinge of doubt curled through its spine.

It shook its head.

No.

It was over.

It had won.

And so it descended, folding its wings and stepping into the depths of the hive. Grotesques parted for it, bowing, whispering, worshipping in silence.

Inside the hive—The shadows swallowed the last of the light.

And then... silence.

Was it... over?

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The world held its breath.

Rain still fell, cold and ceaseless, drenching the earth in mourning. Lightning cracked across the sky, splitting the heavens with a scream that never reached the ground.

And far beyond the chaos—beyond the burning fields and blood-drenched town—he stood.

At the edge of the world.

A lone figure, silhouetted against the shattered horizon atop a jagged mountain ledge. The wind howled, clawing at his black cloak, final warnings that even the storm dared not speak aloud. But he did not move.

He stared ahead.

Down below, like a sea of insects writhing over a corpse, grotesques flooded into Rinascita—thousands of them. Crawling. Devouring. Burning. A nightmare come to life.

It was over.

Wasn't it?

Then—The universe shifted.

Like some forbidden lock turned in the heart of all things, a ripple of absolute gravity passed through the world's very fabric.

A whisper—not heard, but known—swept through existence.

"Obey me! Void."

"1507 / 1505"

Seals Unlocked.

Every particle of mana in the air froze.

Two seals. Not one. Two.

From him.

The Void's Heir.

A pulse of nothingness radiated outward from the mountaintop—black, cold, and ancient. The world dimmed, as if even the rain knew to pause, as if the storm itself bowed its head in reverence.

And from the silence, two void-black eyes opened beneath the pale mask.

No iris. No whites. Just endless black, deeper than death, darker than despair. Eyes that saw beyond time. That looked not just into the world, but through it—into its soul, into its fate.

His fingers reached up. Slowly. Deliberately.

The mask had always been there. But now—he pressed it tight against his face, sealing it as if preparing for war.

And then—

The air split.

Black eminence radiated from his body, rolling off his skin like waves of compressed gravity. Void itself bled into the world, corrupting the light, cracking the clouds above like glass under strain. The mountain beneath him groaned.

And from the depths of that silent abyss, his voice rose. Cold. Perfect. Human... yet not.

"You touched what keeps me human."

The wind stopped.

The shadows held their breath.

His head turned, ever so slightly, toward Rinascita. Toward the town swallowed in flame. Toward the hive where Celia and Lucas bled in silence. Toward them.

"So now, I'll show you what I am without it."

No rage.

No scream.

Just the ending.

Then, a whisper.

"Your story ends here."