Rudra finally arrived at the train compartment, phasing effortlessly through the wall like a ghost. The atmosphere inside was suffocating, heavy with tension and the lingering scent of fear. Mira was curled up in the corner, trembling, supported by Erza who held her protectively. Jura sat nearby, his eyes closed, sweat dripping steadily down his temples.
Rudra scanned the room with detached calm. "So... what did I miss?" he asked, his voice low and dry.
The others turned toward him instantly. Relief flickered across their exhausted faces. Jura opened his eyes, letting out a long breath as though the sight of Rudra anchored him.
"Rudra-dono, you're back," Jura said, voice weary. "Did you find any passengers? Anyone still alive?"
Rudra walked over to a seat, brushing off debris before sitting down with a casual air. He leaned back, arms resting on his knees, though his eyes stayed sharp. He glanced at Mira, noting the way her body trembled with every rumble of the train.
"What happened to her?" he asked quietly.
Erza answered, her voice heavy. "She panicked. After you left, one of them came. It used Wendy's voice... cried out like she was in pain. Mira thought it was real."
Mira shuddered, barely whispering, "It sounded just like her... like she was dying."
Rudra nodded, lips pressed in a thin line. He exhaled slowly. "Figures. They're not just beasts—they're manipulators."
He sat back, stretching lazily despite the tension in the room. "Anyway, everyone else on the train is gone. Either torn apart or eaten."
Erza closed her eyes. Mira turned her face into Erza's shoulder, trying not to cry again. Jura looked visibly shaken.
"So then... what do we do now?" Jura asked after a beat. "How do we get out of here?"
At his question, all eyes turned to Rudra. Even Mira glanced up, her face pale and tear-streaked.
Rudra rubbed the back of his neck and sighed. "Once the train stops, you'll be able to leave."
There was a pause. Then Mira spoke up, her voice soft and uncertain. "What do you mean... you can leave?"
Rudra didn't answer right away. He simply closed his eyes and leaned back, the steady rumble of the train filling the silence.
The presence was palpable—something was wrong, lurking in the shadows of this twisted dimension. It was a weight, a constant pressure in the air that seemed to pulse with intent, waiting, watching.
It had been half an hour since Rudra returned from searching for survivors. The quiet hum of the train had been the only sound, but it was a silence filled with tension. Mirajane and Erza, though seated across from him, had not exchanged many words. They watched him instead—his stillness, his calm, so out of place in this hellscape.
Rudra sat with his eyes closed, as though he were on any other mundane journey, his posture relaxed, his grip on Yamato casual. To them, it felt surreal—this was a world twisted by demons, a place where death had no mercy, yet here he was, the picture of indifference.
How can he be so calm? They couldn't fathom it.
They were in a dimension birthed from madness—a mockery of their own world. The sky was smeared in blood red, the ground cracked and broken, and shadows twisted unnaturally. It felt like walking through a nightmare.
Then, with a sudden jolt, the train screeched to a halt. Rudra opened his eyes, the slightest flicker of awareness crossing his face. He stood with deliberate slowness, as though every movement was effortless. Yamato slid easily from its place by the door into his hand.
"Let's move," he said, his tone flat and unbothered.
Mirajane and Erza exchanged uncertain glances. Without a word, they followed him, stepping off the train into the nightmare waiting for them.
The station was a slaughterhouse. Bodies—mutated, disfigured, some torn apart and others half-devoured—lay strewn across the platform. Blood pooled and seeped into the cracked tiles, staining the air with the stench of death. The air itself felt thick, choking with the scent of decay and despair.
Mirajane stifled a gasp, her hand instinctively going to her mouth as she fought to hold down her bile. "What... happened here?" she whispered.
Rudra looked around without reaction, his eyes passing over the carnage as if it were little more than a passing inconvenience. He stretched, a casual motion, and let out a long, deliberate yawn.
"This is where we part ways," he said, his voice carrying an eerie calmness.
Erza's brow furrowed. "What do you mean?" she asked, stepping forward with her hand on her sword, the tension in her posture unmistakable.
Rudra didn't immediately respond. Instead, he lifted Yamato and swung it in a smooth arc, slashing through the air. A glowing tear in the fabric of reality split open, pulsing with raw energy.
He glanced back at them, his expression unreadable. "Now you guys leave."
Mirajane stepped forward, her voice strained. "You're not coming with us?" she asked, her gaze intense.
"No," Rudra replied shortly, his words leaving little room for argument.
Erza didn't move. Her grip tightened on her sword, the weight of her decision clear. "No. You're coming with us—whether you like it or not."
Mirajane nodded in silent agreement, her eyes narrowing. "You're not staying here alone, Rudra. Not in a place like this."
For the briefest of moments, Rudra met their gazes. Then, he turned away, his focus shifting toward the distant horizon where the twisted spires of Crocus stood. The ruined city seemed to pulse with a dark energy, its towers broken and lifeless, the palace looming ominously in the distance.
"There's something here. Something I need to finish," he said, almost to himself.
"We can help you with that," Mirajane insisted, her tone desperate.
"No, you can't." His voice was flat, void of any emotion. "You'd only get in the way."
The words struck harder than either woman expected, cutting through the air like a blade. For a moment, neither of them knew how to respond.
Rudra turned to Jura, who had remained silent up until now. "Once you're back in the real world, block all transportation to Crocus. Don't let anyone gather in large groups. The dimensional tears—they trigger where people congregate. It will only make things worse."
Jura nodded solemnly. "Understood, Rudra-dono. I will see to it."
With that, Jura stepped into the portal, vanishing without a word.
Rudra turned back to face Erza and Mirajane. The silence between them stretched long, tense. Neither woman was willing to back down, but before either could speak, Rudra moved. His motion was so fast, so precise, that neither of them had a chance to react. In the blink of an eye, he was in front of them.
He grabbed both by the arm, the force in his grip surprising, and hurled them toward the portal.
"No!" Mirajane snapped, but her words were lost as the portal snapped shut behind them.
Rudra stood alone, the silence settling once again. He exhaled slowly, almost bored, as he stretched once more.
He glanced around the ruined station, taking in the carnage with a detached gaze. His expression never wavered, his gaze distant and uncaring.
Turning his back to the station, he began walking. His steps were steady, unfazed by the nightmare world around him.
Ahead, the ruined city waited. The palace—a grotesque replica of Crocus—stood at the heart of it, its once-proud towers twisted into shadows, the oppressive dark energy radiating from it like a living thing.
Rudra didn't flinch. He wasn't concerned by the death that surrounded him, nor the presence that still lingered in the shadows. He knew it was waiting for him. And he was ready.
Alone.
Unbothered.
He walked on, toward whatever awaited him in the heart of this demon-forged world.
Back at real world,
The portal closed with a violent gust of air, tossing them onto solid ground. Mirajane hit the floor with a grunt, hands scraping against the concrete. Erza rolled to a crouch beside her, instinctively scanning their surroundings even as the world spun around them.
Noise hit them all at once—train whistles, footsteps, the hum of a station full of life. The shift was jarring. One second, they'd been surrounded by shadows and things that shouldn't exist. Now they were back in the sun, in the middle of a busy railway platform. People brushed past them as if nothing had happened.
Mirajane pushed herself up, blinking against the sunlight. Her chest rose and fell quickly as she tried to make sense of it. "This… this is Fiore," she said, as much to herself as to Erza.
Erza stood slowly, her hand resting on the hilt of her sword. "Yeah," she said. "We're back."
But the words didn't come with relief. The last thing they remembered was Rudra standing before them—and then, suddenly, being yanked away without a word.
Mirajane frowned. "He threw us out," she said. "Just like that. No warning. No time to even react."
Erza was quiet for a moment. She felt it too—that strange knot of confusion and unfinished business. It wasn't anger exactly, but it didn't sit right either.
"Hey!"
They turned. Jura was striding toward them through the crowd, his expression calm but focused.
"Jura," Erza called, her voice steady but direct. "Why didn't you stay? Rudra was still fighting. You could've helped."
Jura came to a stop in front of them. He didn't look flustered or guilty—just serious. "I know how Rudra operates," he said. "He works alone. Always has. That world… whatever it was… it's not a place we could have made a difference. He knew that. That's why he sent us out. It wasn't personal."
Mirajane crossed her arms. "Still would've been nice to have a heads-up."
Jura nodded. "I get it. It was sudden. But Rudra doesn't explain things. He acts. And in that place, I think he knew we'd only slow him down. He did what he thought was necessary to keep us safe—and to keep the fight focused."
Erza looked off toward the edge of the platform, her jaw tight. "So what now?"
Jura didn't hesitate. "We do what he asked. Keep anyone from heading to Crocus. Stop any chaos before it starts. Whatever's happening, it's not over. But we're the ones on this side now, and that means keeping things under control here."
Mirajane and Erza exchanged a glance. The weight of the moment settled between them. They didn't understand Rudra—not really. But they weren't going to stand around waiting for answers either.
Erza nodded. "Then we go to the palace. Something's going on there, and we need to get ahead of it."
Jura gave a brief nod. "Then let's move. Stay sharp."
The three of them walked forward through the station, their steps steady, purpose returning with every stride. They didn't have the full picture, and maybe they never would. But they had a job to do—and they weren't going to wait for someone else to do it.