The moon bathed the fiery battlefield in pale silver, draping the ruins in a soft, otherworldly glow. Shadows clung to every shattered tree, every broken root, moving only when the smoke did.
Nozomu stood in the center of it all—still as stone.
Across from him, the Devils crept forward. Their eyes gleamed red in the dark, and with each breath, their jaws slavered with foam that hissed as it hit the scorched ground.
The soil smoked beneath their feet.
"I suppose mentioning the acid-drooling wasn't high on your priority list," Nozomu said dryly, eyes fixed ahead.
Pop scoffed behind him. "Yeah, well… maybe I was too busy dealing with the Section Commander you let get away."
Nozomu didn't bite. He watched the creatures closely—their limbs moving in eerie sync, their formation too clean to be random.
"Anyway... He claimed there were a hundred of them," Pop added. "Called them Devils."
Nozomu's expression didn't shift, but something sharpened in his mind.
"A hundred…" he echoed, slow and deliberate. "I counted seventy on the way in."
A gust of ash-laced wind swept past, carrying the distant crackle of burning bark.
"If that number's true," Nozomu mumbled, "then the remaining thirty—"
"—are heading for the Iron Fortress," Pop finished, voice low with grim certainty.
The wind shifted, carrying the heat of the wildfire across the battlefield. The trees behind them crackled in agony, flames dancing skyward like red serpents.
Smoke hung thick, blotting out the stars.
Nozomu nodded once, calm as ever. "They'll be fine. Isabella is with them."
Pop didn't share the ease. He shifted, teeth clenched.
"These aren't like the fodder we've seen before. These things... These Devils... they don't flinch when they're hit. They don't scream. They don't feel. They just… keep moving."
Then—like a monarch entering court—Sedgwick emerged from the depths of the inferno as if the blaze had conjured him.
He moved with regal cruelty, cloak trailing behind him like shadow-wrought silk. The fire kissed his silhouette, and the sea of Devils parted as he approached, like loyal hounds, giving way to their master.
Behind him came his Branch and his men—silent, armored, unshaken.
Like shadows retreating from a deeper darkness, the Devils formed a corridor carved in dread. Sedgwick walked its center as if it belonged to him, each step a silent declaration.
The night didn't just move aside—it recoiled as if it knew what followed in his wake.
"You! Yes, you there!"
Sedgwick's voice tore through the clearing like a spear of sound—quick, theatrical, and laced with arrogance.
"I, Sedgwick Fullerman, revered Section Commander of Sector Five, hereby demand you relinquish the Iritheum Core—immediately!"
The air stirred. A breeze wound between the scorched trees, tugging at Nozomu's cloak like a warning breath.
He exhaled slowly. A soft gust slipped past his lips, caught by the wind, and scattered into the night like a whisper not meant for ears.
"That was... quite a mouthful," he said, almost conversational. "Wouldn't you agree, Section Commander?"
Nozomu took a single step forward, slow and deliberate. One hand rose to his chest—not as a salute, but as if acknowledging some unseen presence.
"I think I'll hold onto it a while longer."
Sedgwick's expression snapped. The mask of control shattered in an instant. His eyes went black with fury.
"Kill them!" he bellowed, his voice cracking with rage. "Kill them both!"
The Devils answered as one.
With a collective snarl, they surged forward—feral and fast, claws flashing in the moonlight.
And the battlefield came alive.
Back inside the Iron Fortress—
The silence shattered like glass.
Benny burst through the corridor doors, arms wrapped tight around a squirming Mimi. His boots hammered against the steel-plated floor, echoing like war drums through the narrow halls.
He didn't stop.
Shoulder-first, he crashed into the control room, slammed his fist against the emergency panel—
And the fortress came alive.
Scarlet lights stuttered into existence, spilling down the walls in violent pulses, each one painting the hallways like a crime scene.
Sirens wailed from the depths of the compound, howling through the ventilation like the building itself was screaming.
The Iron Fortress had become a battlefield.
And its defenders moved like lightning.
The recruits didn't hesitate. Not anymore.
Isabella was already calling out team assignments as they dispersed.
"Teams of two—move fast, stay close to each other!"
- Aeda and Aida
- Theo and Dawn
- Arthur and Bryce
- Isabella and David
- Clarissa and Curtis
They didn't wait for second thoughts. Didn't wait for orders twice. They were already vanishing into corridors, turning corners, fanning out into the residential wing like veins spreading out from the heart.
"Hey! Everyone, up—now!"
Theo's voice cracked through the alarm as he pounded on door after door, Dawn right beside him.
"Wake up! Get moving!"
"It's alright!" Dawn shouted, cupping her hands around her mouth to rise over the blaring sirens. "Benny sent us! We're here to get you to safety!"
Doors creaked open.
Sleep-heavy faces blinked into the corridor, squinting into the flashing red, dazed and afraid. A child clutched his father's pant leg. A woman held a robe shut around her trembling shoulders.
"The main hall!" Theo called out, guiding a group forward. "Follow the others! Go now!"
They listened—barely.
Confusion dragged their feet, but fear pulled them forward.
And behind it all…
The sirens kept screaming.
"What's going on?" a man asked, clutching a child to his chest.
"Are we under attack?" another voice broke in—trembling, brittle, barely keeping upright beneath the weight of panic.
Dawn raised her hands, firm but gentle.
"We don't know yet—but we're getting everyone to safety. Follow the others. Head for the main hall—now!"
The crowd stirred, words fluttering like trapped birds. Half-dressed bodies shuffled forward in stunned, disoriented waves—feet dragging, eyes wide and unfocused, against the crimson pulse of the emergency lights.
But Theo—
Theo didn't move.
He froze mid-step. His head tilted slightly. One hand lifted, not to stop anyone—but to listen.
The wail of sirens screamed overhead, drowning the hallway in blaring red and sound.
And yet—
He heard something else.
Clang… clang… clang…
Soft. Distant. But wrong.
It didn't echo like metal from a forge or machinery. It was too slow. Too heavy. Too intentional. Like metal striking metal—not in rhythm, but in ritual.
Clang... clang...
A cold thread wrapped around Theo's spine.
Something was definitely wrong.
Dawn's voice finally reached him. "Theo? What are you doing?"
He didn't answer at first. Just stared down the dark corridor at the far end of the hall, where the light seemed to break apart into shadow.
"Shh… you hear that?"
Dawn leaned closer, her breath brushing his shoulder. The alarm light pulsed red across her face.
"Hear what?"
Clang...
"There," Theo whispered. "That. There it is again."
"...I hear it now."
They stood still—silent—listening, and this time, neither of them moved.
Something was knocking...
Not asking to be let in, but demanding.
Then—
The door at the end of the hallway detonated inward with a thunderous crack—metal shrieking, fire bursting through the breach like a scream torn from the belly of the earth.
Devils poured in.
Twisted bodies—hunched, sinewy, monstrous—spilled into the corridor in a wave of claws and smoke. Their skin writhed like a scorched muscle, eyes glowing a murderous crimson.
Their mouths hung open, steaming foam dripping from fanged jaws and sizzling on the steel floor like acid.
Theo's heart skipped a beat. His blood ran cold.
He grabbed Dawn's hand—tight, instinctual. "Run," he whispered.
But the lead Devil didn't give them time.
It inhaled—and exhaled hell.
A wave of fire exploded down the corridor. A howling inferno that turned air into flame.
Theo yanked Dawn backward. They dove around the nearest corner just as the fire stormed past—peeling paint from the walls, blackening ceiling tiles, and boiling the very air in their lungs.
Heat snapped behind their backs like a whip.
They hit the ground hard—but Theo was already moving.
His voice ripped out of him, panicked and sharp.
"Shit—!"
He bolted back toward the corridor.
Another blast—wind this time—screamed from the breach. A blade-like gust tore through the hall, slicing through air and flesh alike.
"MOVE!" Theo shouted, dragging Dawn into the nearest open room.
They dove through the doorway as the wind roared past behind them—sharp, invisible teeth raking the walls.
And then—
The screams.
Not distant.
Not abstract.
Real. Close. Agonizing.
Theo pushed the door halfway shut and left it cracked just enough to see.
What he saw—
Was carnage.
The hallway was painted in red. Blood pooled across the floor in chaotic rivulets. Those who hadn't made it behind doors—those too slow, too confused—had been ripped apart.
Bodies sprawled like broken dolls. Some had been crushed against walls. Others… weren't moving at all.
Limbs lay twisted where they shouldn't. One figure was pinned beneath the debris from the collapsed ceiling, mouth frozen mid-scream.
The stench hit next—burning hair, cooked skin, copper-soaked air.
Theo couldn't breathe.
Couldn't speak.
He could barely think.
The others who had survived—who had ducked into rooms—were crouched behind half-open doors, eyes wide with horror.
Trembling. Silent. Paralyzed.
Theo's whole body locked up.
His stomach churned.
His mind screamed—
What… the hell are these things?
What am I supposed to do?
If I don't do something… they're all dead.
Theo's fists curled tight at his sides.
Useless. Helpless.
Until—
A hand found his. It was warm, familiar.
He looked up.
Dawn stood beside him, her expression calm—not blank, but focused. Fierce. Not a flicker of fear in her eyes. Only resolve.
"It's okay, Theo," she said softly. "We'll save them. Together."
"...No, Dawn. You stay here and hide. I'll—"
"I said... together."
No hesitation. No room for argument. The words landed like a command, not a suggestion.
Theo exhaled. His shoulders lowered a fraction.
"...Fine. Let's do it."
The hallway outside had fallen eerily silent again.
The Devils were still there—waiting. Stalking. Moving with the patience of predators who knew the hunt was already theirs.
Theo crouched behind the door, heart hammering.
Then—
He kicked it open.
He and Dawn burst into the corridor, dragging broken chairs, tipped shelves—anything they could grab. The makeshift debris slammed into the advancing monsters, disrupting their formation just enough.
"Main hall! Move—now!" Dawn shouted.
The others ran—barefoot, half-dressed, bleeding—but they ran. Past the blood. Past the bodies. Past the danger.
Theo barely had time to breathe before he heard it—
A low, guttural growl.
It came from under a half-toppled shelf.
Then—
A Devil lunged from the shadows, its eyes glowing like hot coals.
It clamped its claws around Theo's ankle and yanked him to the ground, dragging him hard across the blood-slick floor.
"Theo!" Dawn screamed, spinning toward him.
"Go!" he shouted back, thrashing against the monster's grip. "I'll catch up!"
He kicked hard—once, twice. The Devil hissed as he broke free, skidding it across the floor.
But there wasn't time to breathe.
Another Devil surged forward from the barricade.
It unleashed a wave of wind that struck like a hammer—slamming Theo and Dawn into opposite walls.
Theo gasped. The impact knocked the breath from his lungs, left his bones rattling like loose nails.
"...That hurt," he muttered through gritted teeth, blinking through the stars clouding his vision.
Across the corridor, Dawn staggered upright, eyes unfocused.
Behind her—
A shadow moved.
"Dawn—!"
Theo sprinted.
Faster than he could form thoughts.
Faster than fear.
The Devil's talons arced toward her back.
Theo dove—
Shoulder-first.
He tackled her mid-step, shoving her forward with every ounce of strength he had left.
The claws came down.
Pain—sharp, white-hot—tore through his back.
He hit the ground hard.
Blood sprayed across the tiles.
"Theo!" Dawn's scream cracked the air, her voice raw with panic. "You're bleeding!"
"Go!" he rasped, eyes wild. "We can't stop now—move!"
Another tremor rocked the corridor and flames rumbled behind them, spilling through the haze like an angry tide.
Together, they stumbled through the nearest door and crashed down a stairwell.
Behind them, fire swallowed the hallway whole. Walls collapsed. Smoke consumed the ceiling.
But ahead—
There was still a chance to survive.
Outside the Iron Fortress—
The night was fire and fury.
Smoke coiled through the forest, curling between splintered trees and scorched rock.
Pop twisted through it all—one blur of motion and blade, his sword flashing in the dark as he carved down every Devil that dared come close.
"I told you! They just keep coming!" he roared, the wind whipping ash across his face.
"Don't mess this up," Nozomu said beside him, gaze locked on the approaching swarm.
Pop grinned. "What do you take me for?"
Then he surged upward—his cloak snapping behind him as he soared above the wildfire's blaze.
"Smoke Manipulation… Catastrophic Wave!"
From the inferno below, smoke obeyed.
It surged upward in a titanic spiral, funneled by Pop's hands and flung forward in a crashing wave.
The air trembled. The forest choked.
Devils reeled beneath the onslaught, their formations thrown into disarray.
Far beyond the battlefield, Sedgwick and Branch stood near the shattered ridge—watching the mayhem unfold beneath a storm-churned sky.
Branch raised a question . "Sir, shouldn't we preserve a few of the Devils?"
"Preserve?" Sedgwick mocked, arms crossed. "You think gutter-born filth can beat me and my Devils?"
"No, sir," Branch replied smoothly. "I meant more so for... inventory."
Sedgwick rolled his eyes "Tch."
Above them, the sky cracked wide.
Lightning tore across the clouds like veins splitting open. Thunder followed—deep and relentless—as storm clouds spiraled into place, answering their master's call.
Nozomu raised his sword high. The wind bowed around him.
"Storm Manipulation... Tornado Road!"
The heavens answered.
With a roar like the world splitting in half, a tornado slammed down from above—spiraling, divine, absolute. The winds howled as the vortex touched down, tearing through flame and air like a god's judgment.
Pop hovered nearby, his arms extended. The smoke bent to his will—twisting, funneling, merging with the cyclone's spin.
Nozomu narrowed his stance, his blade cutting a perfect arc.
"Oxygen Manipulation."
The tornado darkened.
Its heart blackened into a dense, spinning core—compressed with air thick enough to burn. The fire from below hungrily licked its edges.
The Devils faltered.
Something in them—animal, instinctual—recognized death.
Pop snapped his fingers.
The flames answered.
Then—
A flash. A blaze. A roar.
"Duo Manipulation!" they shouted in perfect sync. "FIRENADO!"
The world exploded in light.
The black tornado erupted into flame—a spiraling pillar of hellfire screaming toward the heavens. It twisted upward in a column of destruction, wild and radiant, its heat peeling the sky apart.
Flames raged with terrifying beauty, wrapping around the winds like a dragon's breath unleashed upon the world.
The Devils didn't stand a chance.
One by one they were torn from the ground, swept into the inferno mid-howl. Their bodies disintegrated before they could hit the core. Charred ash rained like snow, scattered across the treetops.
The forest glowed like midday.
The storm glared red.
And overhead, Pop hovered with his arms folded, a cocky smirk carved into his face.
"Heh… Not bad, huh?"
Nozomu floated beside him—cloak rippling. He didn't smile.
But he nodded.
"Mm. Didn't screw it up. That's a first."
Far off—on the edge of the burning ridge—
Branch stared, speechless. His mouth moved before sound returned.
"Smoke to feed it. Wind to spin it. Oxygen to ignite it. A natural disaster sculpted by the hands of scum…"
Sedgwick stood still, the firenado reflected in his eyes. Rage cracked across his face.
"...They're using Dyna…" he whispered.
Then again—louder. "They're using Dyna—Why...?"
His voice shattered against the storm.
"Why are they able to use Dyna!?"
Lightning answered.
But not for him.
The winds howled louder—tearing his words from the air, shredding them into silence.
The fire didn't care.
Neither did the storm.
Only the fall of his Devils listened now.