Crest stood there, frozen. All he could do was stare.
Lyraen, Arkel, Ronan, Cassandra, every other member, copper rank, or just newbies. They were all there, standing strong, weapons ready, like nothing had changed. Like they’d been there all along.
His throat tightened. After everything that had happened, after his anger, his frustration, the ugly words he’d thrown at them, this was the last thing he expected.
They’d come back... For him.
Ronan was the first to break the silence. He stepped forward, casually cracking his knuckles, giving Crest a look that was both teasing and serious.
"Well, well. Thought you were gonna handle all this on your own? Not on our watch. We also want to prove something."
Crest’s grip on his sword faltered slightly. He opened his mouth, but no words came out at first. His chest felt heavy, like something he’d been holding back for too long was finally breaking free.
He glanced at the others, their faces lit by firelight, Lyraen’s calm, focused eyes; Cassandra’s quiet strength; and Arkel’s familiar smirk that always hid a bit of worry underneath.
"I... I didn’t think you guys would come," Crest finally muttered, voice low, almost ashamed. "After everything I said... after I blew up on you all... I thought I was done with this. Done with being part of it."
Lyraen stepped closer, her expression soft but slightly detached.
"You had every right to say what you said, Crest. Well, I don’t know the details, but I heard that you crashed out on those three and Airi. That’s enough for me."
Arkel nodded, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.
"Yeah. You called us out, you little shit, and guess what? You were right to. We should’ve been there for each other, not bending over backward for every powerhouse that showed up. We lost sight of that. And... we lost sight of you. That’s on us."
Crest swallowed hard, his emotions a mess of guilt and relief. He looked down, gripping his sword tighter, unsure of what to say.
Cassandra’s voice cut through the tension, cool and precise as always.
"We’ve been thinking about it a lot, Crest. And we realized something: you weren’t just frustrated, you were trying to save us. From ourselves. You were the only one brave enough to call us out. We should’ve listened sooner."
Crest finally met her eyes, and for the first time in what felt like forever, there was no tension between them. No bitterness, no resentment. Just understanding.
Ronan clapped a hand on Crest’s shoulder, nearly knocking him off balance.
"So? You still thinking of quitting? Because I’m telling you right now, we’re not letting you go that easily. You’re one of us. You always have been."
Crest let out a shaky breath, something between a laugh and a sob. He shook his head, smiling despite himself.
"Damn it, you guys... I don’t even know what to say."
"Then don’t say anything," Lyraen said gently, stepping beside him. "Just stand with us. That’s enough. We really need that right now."
For a long moment, they stood there together, all of them, as the fire raged and the city trembled. But this time, Crest didn’t feel alone. Not even a little bit.
He looked at them, really looked, and felt something settle deep inside his chest. Something solid, unbreakable.
A sharp, piercing cry broke this perfect moment, making everyone flinch and tense up immediately. A horrifying sound, a scream that didn’t sound human at all, more like something torn out of a nightmare.
Their eyes snapped toward the burning building where the fire spirits had been tearing through Vezalia just moments ago. But something was wrong.
The fire... was gone. Extinguished completely. The crackle of flames and the roar of burning wood had vanished, replaced by an eerie silence that made the hairs on everyone’s neck stand up.
Ronan stepped forward instinctively, holding out his arm.
"Everyone, stay sharp."
Suddenly... a blur of movement.
Something long and dark exploded out of the ruined building, shooting toward them at terrifying speed.
They barely managed to dive aside as the shape slammed down hard, shaking the entire street on impact.
Crest, heart pounding, turned toward the thing—and froze.
There, writhing and twitching, was a monstrous black worm-like creature. Its circular mouth was lined with jagged, gleaming teeth, and gripped tightly between those terrible jaws was the severed head of one of Lyraen’s fire spirit wolves.
The creature thrashed it around like a toy, slamming it into the ground, crushing it, making a horrible wet cracking sound that turned everyone’s stomach.
For a long, sickening moment, no one moved.
Then the worm-like thing slowly slithered back, dragging the ruined head with it into the dark building, disappearing from sight.
A soft, rising laugh echoed out of the shadows. It was chilling, playful, and dripping with cruel amusement.
Vezalia’s voice followed, sweet and sharp like poisoned honey.
"Oh, how wonderful... You respected our philosophy so well. Fighting together, sharing your strengths... It’s beautiful, really. Nothing brings people closer than sharing a good meal, wouldn’t you agree? It’s heartwarming."
Her laugh grew louder, darker.
"And you’ve brought me so many wonderful memories tonight... such tasty, tasty emotions."
The crunch of broken wood sounded as she stepped forward, her silhouette appearing again from the wreckage.
Slowly, gracefully, she emerged, her black-and-purple gown torn and smeared with ash and splashes of blood... but her poise completely untouched.
The dark stains on her face looked more like the blood of the fallen spirits than her own, and her torso, where she’d been run through, was flawless, fully regenerated as if nothing had ever touched her.
Her pig skull mask cracked audibly, little splinters falling away to reveal the edges of her face underneath.
She tilted her head, lips curling into a wicked smile.
"And now... I am very, very, very hungry."
She raised her head fully now, the mask splitting apart at last, falling to the ground in pieces. Her true face shone with a twisted delight.
"So," she whispered, "let’s enjoy our meal, shall we?"
She opened her eyes, shining orange.
The whole city was burning, on one side, undead swarmed the streets, tearing through walls, while adventurers and knights desperately tried to hold the line.
On the other hand, powerful demons had appeared and were in a different world than anyone around.
In the middle of all that madness, Logan was on his knees, shaking, jaw clenched so tight it looked like his teeth might snap.
His fists were balled up, trembling against the ground. Next to him, Akedios.
Sitting cross-legged like he was chilling at a tea party, the demon flipped lazily through the pages of his old book. He didn’t even bother looking at Logan as he muttered.
"Pathetic. Utterly disappointing. What a waste of time and energy."
Logan didn’t answer. He was too deep in his own head, his thoughts racing. How... how did this happen?
He bit his lip, hard enough to taste blood. His eyes twitched to the side, glaring at his own trembling arm.
Just... how did it come to this...
Akedios yawned.
"Ah, time’s up." He raised a finger lazily.
Suddenly, Logan’s fingers twisted sharply, like his hand had a mind of its own.
A sickening crack filled the air as his bones snapped, bending the wrong way like a puppet with broken strings.
"AAAAAAGH!" Logan roared, falling forward, sweat and tears mixing as pain crossed him like lightning.
"Now, now," Akedios chided, shaking his head with mock sadness, "Remember, I’ve been generous with you. Gave you all this time. If, by any miracle, you’re connected to Lord Ravager, you had plenty of chances to spill. Now I can safely assume... you’re disposable. That just means I can kill you without worrying about annoying consequences."
He tilted his head, eyes gleaming.
"But there is one tiny problem. There’s some information that you might have, and that’s something he needs to know," he lazily gestured to Logan’s broken body. "I could kill you right now, clean and simple. Or... I could make it... creative. Your call. So tell me, what do you know about the Hero?"
Logan shook, his body racked with anger and frustration. His voice was hoarse, barely a whisper.
"The... Hero?" He spat blood, eyes blazing with hatred. "What the hell do you want with him?! I don’t know anything!"
Akedios sighed, long and slow, like a teacher fed up with a failing student.
"Liar. We know the Shield talked to you about the Hero. So... you must know something."
Logan’s breath hitched. His eyes widened.
Darwin...
His hands balled into fists again, even in pain. With a growing rage, he tried to stand, his teeth gritted, his whole body trembling.
SNAP.
Logan screamed again as his elbow twisted backward, his body crumpling to the ground.
"Ah," Akedios sighed, resting his chin on his hand. "Let’s try again. Where is the Hero?"
"I DON’T KNOW!" Logan howled.
CRACK. Another bone broke. Logan thrashed, breath ragged, eyes wild with pain and fury.
Again and again, Akedios asked: What did the Shield say? Where is the Hero going? Who is protecting him? And every time Logan couldn’t answer, snap,crack,pop, another part of him twisted like a marionette’s string pulled too tight.
Through the agony, Logan’s mind started to crack too. His vision blurred, his ears rang, and a cold realization wormed its way in between the pain.
It hurts... it hurts so much...and I can’t even use magic... These injuries... uh?.... Wait... these... the way he’s controlling me... this... this could be...
Akedios finally stood up, brushing invisible dust off his shoulder.
"Well, this is taking forever, and I’m bored. Time to wrap it up." He sighed. "May you find eternal rest, lazy liar. Sing your ode to the Slumbering King."
Logan gasped, feeling his neck twist, muscles straining, bones grinding. He groaned, caught between a scream and a sob, his vision going dark...
BOOM.
A shockwave slammed into them, blasting Akedios away.
The ground cracked, and Logan’s broken body hit the dirt like a rag doll. His ears rang, his body throbbed, every nerve on fire.
He blinked through the haze, everything blurry, every breath agony. But then—a voice.
"You held your ground well, man. Time to rest. We’ll take it from here."
Logan struggled to lift his head, eyes fighting to focus. All he saw was a flash of long blue hair, shimmering.
Akedios straightened, frowning, annoyed.
"Tch. Another annoyance. And who might you be?"
The man looked up slowly, his crimson eyes glowing like embers. His lips curled into a grin.
"Just someone who’s been dying for a bit of fun like this. Name’s Kardrax. But for you?" He cracked his neck. "You can call me... a Sacred... pain in the ass."