A week. It had been a week they’d lived in a cycle of despair. Hunted, attacked, toyed with.
Every time they felt safe, Tyrant came. Every time a wound healed, another appeared. Every shelter fell, and their numbers continued to dwindle.
But this morning... was different.
There were no discussions. No strategy meetings. Not even a check on remaining supplies.
Today would be the final day. Not because of orders from HQ, nor due to logistics or tactics. But because their hearts had reached their limits.
Disgust, anger, devastation, and frustration had merged into one desire stronger than fear: to fight.
"This... is our end," Altair muttered, glancing around. His teammates’ faces were full of wounds and fatigue. But their eyes burned bright. "Or... the beginning of Tyrant’s end."
No one replied. But their steps were firm.
And as expected... Tyrant came.
He emerged from behind the ruins, walking slowly but surely, carrying an oppressive aura like a heavenly beast descending from hell. His gigantic body was marked with old wounds, yet not a single one seemed to weaken him.
His roar shook the air. Without a signal, the battle began.
The Zepynir team charged without hesitation. Yuna began with an ice grenade, exploding at Tyrant’s feet, creating a freezing fog that obscured vision. Kamil followed, firing an armor-piercing round from his anti-materiel rifle.
A massive hand caught the bullet mid-air.
Kamil’s eyes widened. "What...?!"
Tyrant immediately threw the bullet back with tremendous force. It pierced through Kamil’s chest like a spear.
Kamil collapsed. He didn’t get back up.
"Kam—!!" Yuna screamed, before her cry was cut short by a single swing of Tyrant’s arm, launching her through two concrete walls. Her bones cracked loud enough to reach Sofia’s ears.
"YUNA!!" Sofia screamed, her face twisted in rage and fear.
But there was no time to grieve.
Tyrant moved faster than before. Two other Raijin members tried to distract him with flash bombs and fire magic. But they were too close. One slam to the ground—shockwaves swept them away.
Bones scattered. Flesh torn.
What remained of Team Raijin were just three: Altair, Yuki, and Raka. All stood bloodied, yet still unyielding.
"Don’t... stop!" Altair shouted hoarsely.
Sofia’s team moved from another angle, trying to flank him. Sofia attacked with her glowing spear, aiming for Tyrant’s neck. Others fired magical bullets and spells to create an opening.
But none truly hurt the beast.
Tyrant spun and kicked one of Sofia’s teammates into a broken streetlamp. A sickening crash, followed by a limp body falling.
Still alive... but unconscious.
One by one, they fell. Either thrown, crushed by rubble, or severely wounded. Blood flowed everywhere. Breathing grew heavy. The sounds of spells and gunfire faded.
Eventually, only Sofia remained at the front. Spear in hand, wounds covering her body, she faced Tyrant who now walked slowly toward her like an executioner.
"Damn... damn it..." she whispered, blood dripping from her mouth.
She forced herself forward, then broke into a run—more out of desperation than strength. With a frustrated scream, she drove her spear at Tyrant’s chest.
A burst of light erupted from the spear’s tip.
Tyrant had already raised his hand.
Sofia knew she couldn’t dodge.
In her mind, a single sentence echoed— "Is this my end...?"
But the blow never came.
A thunderous crash shook the air. Wind slammed into her face. Dust burst into the sky. The ruins trembled.
When Sofia opened her eyes, she froze.
Tyrant—the terrifying monster that had hunted and toyed with them—had been flung far back, smashing through three buildings at once.
And in front of her...
Her hair was jet black, long and flowing like shadows in the night. Her eyes were dark crimson, like a frozen hell. She wore an elegant black gown that fluttered softly in the breeze.
Her expression was blank, showing neither rage or pity. Only pure calm.
The aura around her was suffocating. Breathing seemed to stop. Time itself seemed to freeze.
And Sofia... was speechless.
For some reason, her body trembled. But not from fear. It was from hope—a hope long lost—now returned.
"you...?" Sofia whispered, barely audible.
But the girl only glanced sideways. Her dark eyes seemed to pierce straight into the soul.
With slow steps, she approached the recovering Tyrant.
The air trembled again.
Each small step from the girl felt heavier than the march of all the fallen soldiers.