After a long night that seemed never-ending, the morning mist in the plains between the ruins of Gaia and the Sanctuary of Oda glowed gray. The ground was soaked with blood and magic, but now the sound of footsteps was no longer the march of Earth's forces, but rather the unflagged squads: the mercenaries. They came from various lands—not for glory, not for oaths, but for gold, revenge, or simply as fugitives from past disgrace.
In the midst of the crowd, hardened faces told stories of resilience and indifference. There were traces of struggle etched in their eyes, signs that life was a game without rules. Lyssa Marrow, their commander, observed them with a cold gaze, realizing that every force standing before her had a dark background that could become a weapon—or betrayal.
Their commander, a woman in an iron mask named Lyssa Marrow, planted a black flag—without a symbol, only stitched with the blood-red threads of past battles. She spoke to the dozens of mercenaries gathered, her eyes shining wildly.
"Today, anyone who lives long enough is free to take whatever is left of Gaia and Oda. No oaths. No masters. We only bow to blood, gold, and our own will!"
Lyssa's voice echoed among the ruins, like a war cry that stirred their spirits to action. She valued every scar that bore witness to each mercenary's life journey. "Remember," she said, her tone toneless yet threatening, "it is not just courage that will keep you alive, but also indifference to your own pride."
Among the mercenaries were former paladins, ex-samurai, even traitors from Earth who had rejected the last orders of their council.
Amid the ruins of the Basilisk, the mercenaries dismantled magitek carcasses, rummaging through corpses for artifacts and charms. They desecrated altars, shattered the glyphs inherited from Sheena, and plundered ancient weaponry—all without mercy. In the chaos of looting, one mercenary carefully took a charm from a corpse's neck, glancing at Lyssa, who was watching their every action. In his heart, he wondered, "Will all this awaken our humanity, or will it bury the remnants even deeper?"
However, Lyssa was not trapped in doubt. She smiled cynically at their actions, believing that war allowed no weakness. Beneath her iron mask, she swallowed a courage that was hard to express—it was a desire to see this world burn in chaos. "We are the betrayed rebels. All of this, this desecration, is the first step to dismantling tyranny!" she whispered to herself while observing how the mercenaries fought over artifacts.
Every scream and the clanging of weapons only fueled Lyssa's spirit to move forward, to seize greater power. Behind her hidden face lay an obsession to imprint the darkness of the past into a future that was unceasingly forward-looking, even if it meant stepping over corpses. "Every action we take here will be recorded in the history to come as betrayal or glory," she thought, adding, "and we will be remembered as the strongest, or not at all."
Lyssa led a small group into the underground ruins, hearing rumors of a guardian still holding on with the womb of Queen Gaia. The thought of the presence of ancient power ignited her spirit, even as fear lurked in the corners of her mind. She knew that whatever was left might not bring them safety, but only more blood to be spilled.
She stepped forward, each step heavy with the burden of decisions that lay ahead. The only thought in her mind was the desire to prove that she was more than just a shadow of her father, a warrior who should not be swayed by dirty tactics. In her mind, hope and hatred intertwined, both driving her forward, even as darkness haunted her.
"If you find the womb, bring it to me. But never touch its child first—I want to negotiate directly with the king of Earth… or with an angel, if that's the price."
Lyssa's face appeared cold and resolute, though her heart trembled at the consequences of her journey. She realized that every decision made could lead to betrayal or death. She whispered to herself, "This is for Gaia, for all that has been lost." With those words etched in her heart, she ignored the raging doubts, leading her companions into the darkness.
The mercenaries killed anyone who tried to resist, even shooting Earth's soldiers who stood in their way. There was no honor—only brutality and opportunism. In the corner of her mind, Lyssa felt powerless; war always brought more destruction than justice. Anxiety peaked as the sounds of gunfire and the screams of victims echoed loudly, reminding her of the unavoidable dark reality.
In the sanctuary, Shigure, half-conscious, tried to sit up, his body still wrapped in bandages. He heard the sounds of clashing metal and rough laughter approaching. Akiko peeked through a crack in the wall, her face pale as she saw the black banners of the mercenaries waving beneath the altar. In her heart, she felt it; the cold wind from the void left by the greed of those mercenaries froze her soul.
Shigure looked at Akiko with tired eyes, sharing a moment of silence that reflected both of them. This was the fragile war they were in—hoping to survive the dark encroachment that did not distinguish friend from foe. "We can't wait any longer. They will be here soon. We must prepare," he whispered, his voice almost blending with the sighing wind.
"Shigure, they are not Earth… they are more dangerous. Those mercenaries will destroy everything just for profit!"
Every word from Akiko bound him in anxiety. Shigure nodded weakly, absorbing the impending battle. In his heart, he felt it; this encounter was a defining moment, both for them and for a world that had fallen into the promised chaos. He knew that anyone who survived here had to work together—there was no room for arrogance in the shadows of death.
"Let them fight with Earth first. If we're lucky, they will kill each other before they find Nobuzan's womb."
Akiko prepared a simple weapon—just a knife and one last protective spell—ready to face anyone who entered first. Cold sweat trickled down her temples as her mind drifted to the many dangers that threatened them. She knew, in this brutal world, one wrong step could mean the end of everything.
On the other side of the sanctuary, Lyssa Marrow briefly allied with Bronn, the Butcher of Earth. The two discussed coldly: That night, Lyssa wore a dark cloak reminiscent of the dark shadow she kept. Her sharp eyes scrutinized every expression from Bronn, searching for a gap, ready to strike if necessary.
"I want Nobuzan's body, Bronn. Alive or dead, it doesn't matter. If I hand it over to you later, give me access to the spiral artifact in the altar room of Oda." Bronn grinned, "Don't dream of becoming a queen in a world that's already burned. But if you bring me that body before the angel arrives, I will negotiate."
A cold feeling remained in her heart, Lyssa replied, "Calling me a queen in this shattered land is just a joke. However, the blood that flows behind the fighting base teaches me that I must fight for power, not just wait." She continued with deep conviction, "Every creation must pay a price to survive in this lawless world."
But everyone knew that the agreement between killers and traitors only lasted as long as there was blood and profit. Like a dagger ready to strike, anxiety surrounded that decision—was this cooperation truly beneficial for both? Lyssa felt unease, her shadows creeping into her mind. She had to prepare for whatever might happen, for beside her, there were no friends, only temporary allies and perhaps traitors waiting for the right moment to stab from behind.
In the underground corridors of Gaia, Sabina and Luria heard the ruckus above their heads—wilder and more chaotic than Earth's soldiers. The mercenaries had broken through the main door, plundering and burning aimlessly. Behind the towering iron bars, a fleeting shadow appeared—Lyssa Marrow, a figure known for her loyalty that was worthy of admiration and her unmatched sword, now fighting against the tide of despair.
Sabina held Iris's hand, who was nearly unconscious, feeling the warmth of Iris's body beginning to fade. Yet in her heart, there was a surging strength. "Iris, rise! We will not let them take you," she whispered, igniting hope in the darkness.
"They are not enemy troops. They are thirstier for blood than anyone. We must hold on a little longer. If necessary, we will burn this corridor ourselves… so that no one gets your body, Queen."
Luria looked at Sabina with red eyes, tears and mud mixing. In the darkness, Luria remembered how the three of them had once laughed in this place, when hope was still alive. "How much longer can we hold them off?" she asked, her voice barely audible amidst the chaos.
"How much longer can we hold them off?"
In another room, Lyssa swung her sword with extraordinary agility, slashing mercenaries one by one. Behind her sharp gaze, there was doubt—would her struggle end in failure? Though her fighting spirit did not wane, the shadows of death and loss continued to haunt her, reminding her of all that had been lost. In a moment of calm, she glanced toward the increasingly dark corridor.
With determination, Lyssa shouted, "Anyone who dares to approach our ancestors will feel the consequences!" Her voice echoed, breaking the fear that confined her companions. Every step toward battle was a step toward destiny, and she vowed to protect what remained of Gaia, no matter the price to be paid.
Sabina bowed her head, knowing the answer: not long. In her heart, a heavy feeling enveloped her. She felt the pressure in her chest growing heavier, as if the world would collapse upon her. With every heartbeat, anxiety intensified in their minds. The freshness of hope began to fade, left behind by the aura of hatred that stretched between them and the mercenaries.
From the sky, Joanna watched the wild battle below. She saw the mercenaries fighting with Earth's forces, burning the remnants of the protectors, even trying to storm the point of light where the angel stood guard over the surviving people. Both courage and fear were visible on the faces caught in this whirlwind of death, yet amidst the chaos, hope flickered for those who fought.
Zadkiel, the guardian angel, descended into the ruins of Gaia, destroying two squads of mercenaries with a single flap of his wings. However, his sharp gaze could not penetrate the bitterness of his soul. In his heart, he felt alienated, trapped between duty and empathy, where lost lives became a burden he could not shake off. But Lyssa Marrow was undeterred—she shot a glyph arrow into Zadkiel's chest, briefly igniting his wings.
Lyssa, consumed by burning anger, observed every movement of cannons and swords that destroyed. Every death of her comrades was a mockery of her remaining soul. In her dreams, she saw the faces of those left behind, those who still had hope, where she vowed to protect them at all costs. "You are not a god here, angel! This world belongs to anyone who dares to survive!" she shouted, channeling her fighting spirit into her arrow.
"You are not a god here, angel! This world belongs to anyone who dares to survive!"
Joanna finally intervened, creating a circle of light that held the mercenaries on one side of the ruins. The circle shimmered, promising protection, albeit only temporary. Within that light, she also felt the pull of darkness threatening to swallow her, a reminder of the price to be paid amidst the increasingly horrific war.
Yet the mercenaries only laughed, some retreating, some still hunting every sound in the underground. Behind their smiles and jeers lay a deep-seated fear, panic gnawing at them as they continued to fight for power. They knew this war was not just about defeating enemies, but also about the desire to survive in a world filled with darkness.
A new war without rules had begun. Mercenaries forced anyone to choose: survive or become a victim. Amidst the uproar, Lyssa felt a turning point within herself; it was the moment she knew she could become a monster or a hero. She vowed to herself that every sweat and blood that fell was to uphold justice, even if sometimes it meant doing repugnant things.
They did not know mercy, even among themselves they could kill each other if there was a greater chance to survive. In that chaos, Lyssa vowed not to let despair grip her soul. She would turn sorrow into courage and lead her friends out of the dark. "I will return victorious," she murmured, as if reassuring herself that she still had the strength to fight.
As the sounds of screams and the roar of swords filled the air, she felt the heat of anger burning within her. All emotional ties severed by this war would not stop her, but rather fuel her anger and desire to defend the powerless, even if it meant paying the highest price: blood without a name.
Sabina finally decided to burn the last door of the underground corridor. Fire and glyphs exploded, holding back some mercenaries. But some others still escaped, forcing them to fight to the last drop of blood. In that turmoil, Sabina felt her heartbeat racing, as if time slowed to give space for her fear. She was not just fighting for survival, but to prove that she was more than just a pawn in this cruel game.
Akiko in the Sanctuary of Oda prepared the last sacrificial spell. Shigure stood, though his body trembled, adding uncertainty to the challenge they had to face. With every ancient letter spoken, he felt the immeasurable burden of hope and fear, bringing him to a crossroads between courage and panic gnawing at his mind. He glanced at Akiko, seeing determination shining in her eyes, as if they were both connected by an inescapable fate.
"If this is the end, let Oda die with honor, not cowardice."
Above all, Lyssa Marrow laughed from behind the ruins, her voice echoing with madness and terrifying confidence. In her sharp and unpredictable gaze, the world seemed brighter, not in darkness, but in the colors of blood and destruction. Lyssa felt power flowing within her, as if every word she spoke fed the flames of hatred burning in the hearts of the mercenaries and her enemies. She was a mystery, bound by ambition and hatred in a tapestry of life filled with betrayal.
"A new world will be born from the graves of hope—and from the blood of children who were never asked to be born!"
Lyssa's exultation vibrated the air, transforming the atmosphere around her into a battlefield that shook even more. The madness she radiated was not just a game, but a manifestation of all the despair that had ever shaken her soul. She challenged them all to fight her, to return the hatred to her, and she only wanted to see who would surrender first in the embrace of death.