----Chapter 36----
The forest trembled faintly in the moonlight, carrying echoes of distant chaos. The trees whispered with unease, as though they sensed the clash of wills churning beyond their roots.
Not long after escaping the void, Rubal stepped from the cave, his long black hair flowing like midnight silk. The black sun marking on his chest glowed faintly, casting an ominous shimmer across the rocky entrance.
Brooke stumbled forward, dirt streaking her tear-stained face as she carried the wounded Bob and Bruce with stubborn resolve. Her voice broke as she whispered, trembling.
"Rubal…"
His gaze met hers, steady and unshaken despite the weight of battle etched in his stance.
"Iblis is free," Rubal said, each word heavy, deliberate, carved with the steel of survival. His eyes softened as he looked at her, alive against all odds.
"And you… you are alive."
Before Brooke could reply, a streak of silver light cleaved the night, slamming down near the cave entrance and shaking the stone with its arrival.
Astares landed in haste, her wings unfurling like radiant shields, their span nearly striking the jagged walls.
She steadied herself, her eyes sharp as they swept over the group. Dolan and Mera were already tending to Bob and Bruce, their movements frantic but practiced.
"I'm glad the help arrived in time," Astares said.
Her gaze lingered on Rubal, circling him slowly, expression sharp as though scrutinizing every detail. Rubal stood in silence, his presence calm but unyielding.
Without warning, Astares reached out, brushing her fingers through his long hair before gripping his arm firmly.
"Hey… who are you? What are you doing inside his body?" she asked, her tone probing and edged with suspicion. She paused, gaze narrowing.
Then her lips quirked in a half smile.
"Wow… you're a lot stronger now. Not like before. You were, uhmm, kinda weak. Sorry!"
Rubal let out a wry smile. "Well… I guess you're right about that."
Her eyes flicked to the black sun mark etched on Rubal's chest, glowing faintly beneath the moonlight. When she looked back up, curiosity sharpened into realization.
"You're Iblis, aren't you?" she exclaimed, voice brimming with sudden clarity.
Rubal let out a quiet breath, his gaze steady. So she already knows…
"So that's what happened. I get it now. I think you're going to be fine." She gave him a light, almost playful tap on the back, her tension easing.
Brooke, though weary, felt the weight between them and managed a fragile smile. Relief mingled with concern in her eyes as she whispered,
"Then maybe… maybe we still have hope."
The sounds of battle carried through the forest: the clash of steel, the guttural roar of a beast, the rhythmic tremors of massive footsteps. Astares' expression hardened, though the flicker of warmth remained. She turned toward the noise.
"Roc is safe for now," she said firmly.
Far from the cave, the shadows of the forest deepened. Enix struggled beneath the furious assault of a Gravehound.
Scavenger of corpses, it prowled like a hyena of the dark, its matted black fur clinging to rotting flesh. A skull-like jaw gnashed with jagged teeth, while miasma seeped from its body, choking the air with the stench of death.
Nortron watched from the treeline, his eyes gleaming with a predatory light.
Roc dropped from the canopy. His paws landed with crushing force, fangs bared in primal fury.
The Gravehound was struck full force. Bones cracked, dirt exploded, and the beast crumpled to the ground, its body mangled and unable to rise.
Nortron's smile faltered. His eyes narrowed, irritation flaring.
"Damn it. I wasted my time hunting you. What a weakling."
With a sharp snap of his fingers, the Gravehound let out a piercing howl, its voice shrill with terrible pain. Its body convulsed violently before dissolving into black ash, scattering into the wind.
From above, a shadow descended. Nortron leapt from the branch of a towering tree and landed hard on the forest floor. Dust and leaves burst outward from the impact as he straightened with deliberate grace, his coat snapping in the night air.
His eyes gleamed with exhilaration, almost manic. He threw his arms wide as though conducting an unseen orchestra.
"Atlas!! Now that the main character has arrived, we can set the stage and open the curtain!" he exclaimed.
"What do you mean by that?" Enix asked, confusion threading his voice.
Nortron began pacing, gestures shifting from erratic to deliberate. A faint smirk curled his lips.
"Hmmm… let me explain this so your tiny human brain can understand," Nortron said, voice dripping with menace and amusement.
He extended a long finger toward the space where the Gravehound's ashes still drifted.
"That little pet? It was mine. A tool. Nothing more. And when tools break, they get discarded."
Enix froze, fury rising. "Damn you! So you're the one who drove Roc's mother wild that day?"
Nortron gave a theatrical shrug, as though Enix's anger amused him.
"Yes, certainly. Curious little thing, isn't it?"
He paused, letting the words hang. Then continued, mockingly:
"Oh… so you've already named it. How amusing. You've already made a pact with a Dreadfang."
"Oh well… it doesn't matter."
"Once I kill you, he's mine for the taking."
"And now you think you can just take it?" Enix spat, fists tightening on his weapon.
Nortron leaned close, voice dropping into a whisper sharp enough to cut. Then, straightening suddenly, he spun with a flourish, arms wide as if addressing an audience.
"But don't worry. The show has only just begun."
Elsewhere, the ruined village lay silent beneath the moonlight. Rietta walked its broken streets with casual arrogance, her steps light and playful.
"Hey, hey!! My sweet Valkyrie, why are you hiding from me?" she called, voice echoing through hollow alleys.
She smirked at the shattered walls.
"Holon brags about how strong you are," she muttered, chuckling softly. "Looks like he was bluffing," she whispered, tilting her head.
Inside a crumbling house, Azre pressed herself against the wall, barely daring to breathe. Her armor was battered, and one arm bore the creeping rot of Rietta's curse.
Healing magic slowed its spread, but the corruption gnawed at her relentlessly, draining her strength. Her vision blurred, and her hand trembled each time she tried to grip her weapon.
Rietta's laughter carried through the ruins, sharp and playful. Azre's teeth clenched, eyes wide, every nerve taut. She knew the confrontation was inevitable.
And then, deep within the forest, not far away, Faetalis faced her own storm.
Gobura attacked with relentless fury. Dual blades whirled like a tempest, shredding roots and splintering bark. Each strike tore into the earth with savage precision.
Faetalis ducked and rolled, her battered axe cutting through the storm, sparks flying with every violent clash.
The forest itself seemed to resist her. Roots tangled her footing. Branches whipped her face. Logs tumbled in the chaos.
A young Incan boy crouched in terror among the massive roots of a tree, wide-eyed and trembling.
Gobura noticed him too. A cruel grin spread across his face. He reached down, seizing the boy by the collar, and lifted him into the air like a lost puppy.
"Gotcha, lil' mouse! Hey, Hero!! You thought dragging me out here would save the villagers? How about I cut this runt in half while you watch?"
Faetalis' muscles screamed. Her axe felt heavier with every heartbeat. Her breath was ragged.
But the sight of the boy dangled before her set something alight inside.
With a roar, she lunged forward, swinging her axe in a desperate strike.
Gobura, startled by her sudden fury, snarled and flung the boy aside into the bushes to defend himself.
Their weapons met with explosive force. The clash rang out like thunder, shaking the ground beneath them.
Faetalis staggered, chest heaving. Her vision blurred. Her strength faltered. Yet as her gaze darted to the boy—safe, alive—a pulse stirred within her chest.
Warmth. Light. Power.
Golden energy spread through her veins, flowing outward. Her stance steadied. Muscles coiled.
Then the impossible: horns sprouted from her brow, radiant and magnificent, glowing in the moonlight.
Her battle axe thrummed, resonating with her awakened power. Her aura expanded, raw and commanding, carrying the weight of a lineage she had always believed denied to her.
Her eyes locked on Gobura. She was no longer fighting to survive. She was fighting to protect.
With a roar that split the forest, Faetalis charged.
Her axe swung with devastating force, precision guided by instinct and newfound power.
Gobura's eyes widened, surprise breaking his arrogance. For the first time, his confidence faltered.
The boy crouched lower among the roots, terror melting into awe. Faetalis' gaze snapped to him, her voice cutting through the chaos with fierce authority.
"Run! Get as far from here as you can!"
The boy scrambled to his feet and darted into the undergrowth, vanishing into the night.
The forest seemed to hold its breath. Horns gleaming in the moonlight, axe alive in her grasp, Faetalis stood reborn—poised, powerful, and finally awakened.