Isabella, Tana, and Benny led the recruits and remaining workers up a steep slope. The trail was narrow, flanked by seared trees, their charred branches like skeletal arms reaching toward the heavens.
The mountain air was thick with ash and the lingering scent of smoldering wood. Every footstep crunched against dirt and residue as the group climbed higher, yet the moon's glow gave the slope an almost serene beauty.
At the summit, Marco stood anxiously alongside Clarisa, Aeda, Aida, and the others who had been evacuated earlier. Their faces lit up the moment they saw the approaching group.
Aeda spotted them first. "Hey, you guys! You're alright!" she called out, waving frantically.
"Yeah, just barely!" Bryce called back, a tired smile on his face as he lifted a hand in return.
As they reached the summit, Aida stepped forward, her relief evident from her sigh. "Glad to see you all made it back okay."
Curtis raised a hand in greeting. "You guys, too. How'd things go on your end?"
"We're fine. Everyone that came with us is accounted for," Clarissa said, appearing beside Curtis with Mimi cradled in her arms.
Curtis lit up when he saw her, the tension in his frame unraveling. "Rissa! I knew I could count on you!" he grinned, patting her shoulder.
Clarissa blinked. "Rissa?" She tilted her head slightly. "Since when was I given that name?"
Curtis smirked and leaned in just a touch. "Since now. It fits you. Don't you think?"
"I don't remember agreeing to that."
"You didn't have to," Curtis said, his voice softening. "Some things just feel right."
Curtis's eyes lingered for a second longer than usual. A faint pink hue crept into Clarissa's cheeks, but she masked it with a huff, brushing a loose strand of hair from her face and pretending to adjust Mimi's position in her arms.
"Well, just don't overuse it," she mumbled.
Curtis only chuckled. "No promises, Rissa."
Aeda's anger flared, and she swiftly intervened. "It wasn't just Clarissa! We all pitched in, you know! Isn't that right, Aida!?"
Aida nodded, her voice small but proud. "Yeah... we all did."
Before Curtis could respond, the twins closed in on him from both sides—arms crossed like synchronized storm clouds.
Curtis let out a breathless chuckle, raising his hands like a man surrendering in battle. "Whoa, whoa—easy! I didn't forget about you two. Promise. I know you both helped. Big time."
Arthur elbowed Bryce lightly. "Uh oh. He's surrounded. Twins are double the trouble."
Bryce smirked, throwing a playful one-two jab in the air. "He's lucky they didn't hit him with a twin aggro. That's a combo you don't walk away from."
Curtis glanced between them, feigning panic. "Can I at least get some backup over here?"
Arthur snorted. "No way."
Bryce grinned. "You're on your own, man."
Both of them burst out laughing.
As laughter eased the last of the night's tension and the moment softened, Mimi jumped from Clarissa's arms and into Theo's, licking his face with joy.
"Silly girl," Theo chuckled, ruffling her ears. "Glad you're safe, too."
The mood shifted to quiet gratitude as Clarissa looked toward Marco. "Honestly... Marco led the way. He deserves all the credit."
The recruits turned to the hill's edge where Marco stood alone, his arms crossed, eyes fixed on the burning Iron Forest.
Before anyone could approach him, a cry tore through the air.
"Mera!? Is that you!?"
The crowd parted as a woman pushed forward. Mera's eyes widened, and she ran into her mother's arms.
"Mom!" she screamed, diving into her arms.
Her mother clutched her tight, sobbing into her shoulder. "Oh, my sweet girl... I thought I'd lost you. Don't ever do that again, you hear me?"
"I'm sorry," Mera whispered. "I didn't mean to scare you."
Faye and Colt appeared behind her, drawn by the reunion. Mera looked to Faye and wordlessly handed over the teddy bear—Suki.
Faye stared at it briefly, then tossed it aside, lunging into Mera's arms, hugging her tight.
"Mera... don't do that again! I was so scared you wouldn't come back!" Faye sobbed.
Colt, fists clenched, stood beside them. "Next time, Mera, I won't let you go alone. I swear I won't."
Mera nodded, tears slipping down her cheeks. "Thanks, you guys... I love you both."
While the children clung to one another, Benny approached Marco, who stood at the ridge, eyes locked on the burning fortress.
"Marco."
"Boss."
"How'd things go on your end?"
"Everyone made it," Marco said, not turning to face Benny. "But I didn't do anything special. Just got them here. Didn't fight like the others. Didn't risk my life."
"Marco," Benny said, placing a hand on his shoulder, "you led them through hell. That's no small thing. Don't overlook that. Your parents would've been proud of the man you've become. I sure am."
Marco nodded silently, eyes never leaving the fire.
"What about your end?" he asked softly.
Benny hesitated, then pulled a silver flask from his pocket and took a long drink.
"We lost a lot of good men tonight. Brave men. Men who fought to the last."
He passed the flask to Marco.
Marco drank, grimacing at the taste. The burn matched the ache in his chest.
Their eyes met—grief and acceptance shared in silence.
From their vantage, they watched the Iron Fortress smolder in the distance, its walls broken, its glory buried beneath ruin.
"Not sure how I'll break the news," Benny muttered, watching the flames dance in the distance. "But I think they already know."
A hush fell over the hilltop as more of the crowd began to realize who was missing. Murmurs swept through like a breeze turning cold.
Women scanned the returning group, searching for familiar faces among the survivors. When they didn't find them, the silence broke.
A low, trembling sob cut through the quiet—then another.
A woman collapsed to her knees, clutching her child close as tears streamed down her face. Another stumbled backward, hand over her mouth, eyes wide with the dawning horror.
Children looked up at their mothers, confused by the sudden grief. One little boy clung to his older sister, whispering, "Where's Papa?"
No one had the heart to answer.
The joy of reunion was still there—but now laced with the pain of absence. Grief had begun to spread like wildfire among the crowd—raw and real.
The wails of loss clashed with the silence of those still too stunned to cry. And Benny… Benny just stood still, jaw tight, the weight of every unspoken name pressing on his shoulders.
He didn't speak. He didn't have to.
Far beyond the grieving survivors—across the Devil-littered terrain and rising smoke—atop a blackened ridge overlooking the battlefield, a cluster of figures stood cloaked in shadow.
Sedgwick Fullerman.
His posture, usually proud, sagged under the invisible weight of failure.
Beside him, his soldiers remained alongside Branch, examining a small metal device, its screen flickering with data.
A red indicator pulsed with rhythmic finality.
"...Sir," Branch said with a sigh. "We've lost all one hundred Devils."
Silence.
Sedgwick's fists clenched at his sides, the leather of his gloves creaking under pressure. His eyes stayed locked on the battlefield, on the flickering fires devouring what remained of the Iron Fortress.
"Gather the horses," he said through gritted teeth. "We're returning to base."
But before the order could be carried out—
A voice echoed from above, from the darkness of the sky, slick as oil and sharp as broken glass.
"Retreating so soon, Section Commander?"
Sedgwick spun, eyes scanning his soldiers, his hand reaching for his blade. "This isn't a retreat! Who dares—"
"It wasn't any of them, sir," Branch said, glancing at the confused soldiers.
The words didn't belong to any of Sedgwick's men.
The leaves from the nearby trees shivered. Then, a wind gust swept through the area—sudden, sharp, unnatural.
A figure descended like a phantom from the sky. It was Nozomu. His cloak fluttered behind him as his boots silently landed on the ground.
He stood tall in the moonlight, painting his shadow across the ground like a blade.
"Yo," he said casually, his voice disturbingly calm for a man who'd just crippled an entire assault.
Sedgwick's cheeks went pale. Rage and dread warred on his face.
Before anyone could react, a sharp gust sliced through the clearing. Sedgwick's soldiers fell without a sound, slashed down mid-breath, blood from their necks seeping into the soil.
Only Branch remained standing, jaw tight.
Before either of them could blink, a blur cleaved through the silence.
Nozomu was beside Sedgwick—arm draped casually over the Section Commander's shoulder with unsettling familiarity, like a predator wrapping itself around cornered prey.
He was faster than a heartbeat. One moment, the wind howled; the next, he was beside Sedgwick.
"Got a minute?"
Sedgwick froze, paralyzed, every nerve in his body locked. He could barely breathe.
Branch's mouth broadened in disbelief.
When he did...? He didn't even make a sound.
Sedgwick's skin went cold.
How dare this man—scum of the Wastelands—treat him with such audacity.
"W-what do you want...?" Sedgwick croaked.
Nozomu leaned in, whispering like he was telling a secret.
"In exchange for your life, you will deliver a message to your God-King for me. It's simple. Three words. I know everything."
He pulled back, hovering just above the ground, wind swirling around him.
Sedgwick staggered, signaling to Branch to make a move, but a blast of air shoved him back, pinning him in place with a groan.
Nozomu's voice sharpened as he rose higher into the air.
"This makes it the second time I've spared your life, Section Commander. There won't be a third. Next time, I won't be alone. We're coming for all of you. Eventually, the Five Section Commanders will fall."
A cold smile ghosted across his lips.
"Along with your so-called God-King, Sen Elkai."
With that, Nozomu vanished into the night sky, swallowed by starlight.
Branch ran to Sedgwick, who stood frigid, motionless.
"Sir? Say something. What do we do?"
Sedgwick didn't answer. He couldn't. His mind was spinning. His pride was shattered. The wind, the power, Nozomu's presence—it crushed the air from his lungs.
This isn't possible... This man—this filthy Wasteland scum... He's nothing... Yet he wields Dyna... He talks as though he stands above me...
"...How dare he!" Sedgwick snapped. "He dares speak to me like that!? Deliver a message!? Me!? I'll show him!"
"Sir, we have the Section Commander meeting coming up. What are we going to report?" Branch asked, but Sedgwick wasn't listening.
He stormed past Branch to where the horses were tethered, eyes burning with humiliation and rage.
He ripped open a saddlebag, retrieving a small cylindrical device. His thumb crackled with Dyna.
"He had said all he needed to."
Sedgwick pressed the button.
Back above the battlefield, Nozomu soared high. But then the world shrank beneath him.
A flicker of red.
Below, across the scorched plain, the corpses of the Devils began to glow.
One by one.
Red lights pulsed from their necks… then their chests… then all at once—
BOOM!
A massive chain of explosions tore through the battlefield.
One by one, the Devils exploded in coordinated bursts, explosions lighting up the dark in an eerie chain of detonations.
Nozomu shielded his face from the light, watching the field below vanish in smoke and a blinding inferno. Shockwaves rippled upward.
Flames licked the sky.
Ash rained upward like a funeral pyre turned inside out.
Nozomu steadied himself in the air, watching the destruction in silence.
His mouth curled into a grin.
"…Well played, Section Commander. Well played."