A few minutes earlier.
The silence after the explosion was almost unreal. Dark particles hung in the air like dust from dead stars, slowly descending upon the carbonized ruin that was once the city's heart. The light from Mei's flash was dissipating, but the impact still vibrated in the world's very bowels.
In the center of the devastation, a body began to stir. Among twisted wreckage and incandescent stones, Dante opened his eyes.
Breathing was painful. The air burned in his lungs, as if each inhalation was made of glowing embers. His skin, marked by burns, throbbed; his clothes were torn to shreds, and the smell of burnt flesh still clung to him. Yet, he was alive.
Not by chance.
Dante was not merely brute force. He never had been. The overwhelming power he possessed was just a resource, a whim. His true weapon was his mind, his reading of the enemy, his cold calculation. That was why he had survived.
— As expected… — he murmured, his voice hoarse, almost a whisper. — In raw power, she is unmatched.
The memory of Mei's Sun burned in his mind. He knew: if he had tried to resist head-on, he would have been erased from existence. But his experience had guided him. At the last instant, he had molded the Veil. Not to protect the field, not to try and save the environment, but to fold it around himself. He had withdrawn its vastness, compressed space, and, at the cost of his own energy, created an abyssal cocoon.
Still, the price had been high. The impact had pierced the Veil, shattering it to pieces, and his body had paid the price. Dante rose slowly, leaning on a cracked stone, feeling every muscle protest.
— My energy… is in pieces. — He clenched his fists, looking at his own trembling hand. — Unlike that demon called Mei, I don't have a miraculous technique that restores me to my peak.
A short laugh escaped his lips, even amidst the pain. There was no bitterness; there was clarity.
He lifted his eyes. In the distance, two forces screamed on the horizon. One, blue, cold, covering everything with ice. The other, red, fierce, resisting like a heart that refuses to stop. Parallel presences. They were not the same ones Mei had faced before.
— They switched… — he said, his eyes narrowing. — Excellent.
Mei was distracted. Tied up with the princes. That opened a window for him.
Dante turned his head and saw the silhouette of the Tree of Life, now twisted, covered in a dark glow. Corruption. The pulsating heart of the world, weakened, exposed.
A slower smile formed on his split lips.
— If they don't offer me the fruit on a platter… — he murmured, almost amused. — Then I'll go straight to the tree.
He took a deep breath, even though the air tore at his lungs. His mind worked fast. Mei was flame, explosion. He was shadow, patience. If she wanted to devastate, he wanted to sow. The chaos was his opportunity.
He looked once more at the horizon, the red and blue colliding. The world seemed to tremble. Not from Mei's impact, but from something deeper. The sky exploded in a celestial blue, not from the light of day, but from the growing essence of the Abyss. The earth and the floating city shuddered as if sensing the next act.
— The board… is set. — Dante whispered, wiping blood from the corner of his mouth. — With Mei unable to stop me… I can disrupt everything.
There were familiar presences in the direction of the tree. He felt them, faint, like echoes in the darkness. He had no clarity, but he knew they were there. And that made the play even more interesting.
His red eyes, tinged with shadows, gleamed with malice.
— I am going to enjoy this.
Without enough energy to make himself felt, he was like a ghost on the radar. A specter no one noticed until it was too late. Dante rose completely, straightening his posture despite the pain. The wind blew the ashes from his body, and he disappeared among the wreckage, advancing toward the tree.
Mei's war no longer concerned him. He had a destiny of his own to fulfill.
In the present moment...
The ground still trembled. The air smelled of soot and heated metal; the sky, torn by the glare Mei had left behind, oscillated between cutting blues and a red that did not come from the sun—it came from the Abyss itself. Every step the group took upon the ruins seemed synchronized with the pulse of that profaned tree: a sick heart beating too hard.
They advanced without haste, but without hesitation. Tired, marked by battles, with wounds that still ached inside, the four—Tekio, Dan, Stella, and Amara—moved as a single unit. There was no childish heroic glow on their skin; there was patched-up determination, the strength of those who had already seen friends fall and, even so, chose to press on.
When the last wall of roots parted, the sight that greeted them was as absurd as it was terrifying.
In the clearing before the tree, a figure waited for them with open arms. It hadn't walked to them; it seemed to have always been there—a breathing statue. The naked body glowed with a sickly heat, skin rejuvenated as if time itself bent at its feet. Around it, ancient symbols unfurled in the air, echoing sounds that seemed like a ritual chanted in a language of stone.
— Ahh… the Abyss — the voice slid like silk and a razor blade at once. — My home. Soon there will be space to rewrite every soul, every trace of essence.
He spoke loudly, pronouncing syllables as if opening portals. There was pride in that cadence, and something pathetic too: the ecstasy of one who believes themselves the architect of the end.
The group passed through the gate of roots and separated into formation. Their gazes hardened. Not terrified; focused.
— How beautiful, my dear guests — the figure bowed, a grotesque movement of reverence. — Enter.
Dan was the first to explode with his voice.
— HAZAU! — he shouted, his voice cracking the air.
The response was a laugh, broad and satisfied, coming from the figure itself. — No need to shout, Dan. I hear you perfectly.
Stella, her eyes sharp, was already calculating. — He's absorbing energy directly from the Tree. — she murmured. — Once through the portal, now through the root. He needs contact.
Amara gritted her teeth, her anger sharp. — It would have been easier for you to just let yourself die in that explosion. Your life is meaningless, Hazau.
His face closed, and the smile became a blade.
— You are in no position to judge, Amara — Hazau spat. — Born cursed, manipulated, with the blood of your own blood on your hands. My life may be meaningless, but yours… yours has no value whatsoever.
At least, not the way you aspire to.
You will see...
Tekio took a step forward, baring his teeth.
— Damned — he growled.
Hazau, with theatricality, made a gesture of feigned fear. — How adorable. — His eyes swept over the four as if choosing which trinkets to pluck. — A pity none of it matters. The Abyss devours everything: love, hatred, memory. Bodies, souls, essences. Sad stories, shining memories—all are biomass for the new order.
Stella stepped forward, her short sword of light reflecting on the rotten roots. — Don't act as if you've already won, Hazau. We've beaten you before. We can do it again — she said, firmly. — As many times as necessary.
Hazau smiled, this time not with scorn, but with an almost poetic reverence. — Such human vanity. — His voice lowered, like one confiding a secret. — It is not confidence, my dear. It is knowledge. I know where each of you will end. I see the tenuous thread and the final period. Tekio, for example… you have fulfilled your duty. You may die in peace.
Although you have been acting very strangely lately...
The words fell like a blade. The group stood still for a second—not surprised, just recognizing the gravity of the threat. Hazau emanated a pressure that reminded them of Dante: not identical, but cut from the same cloth. It was a presence that compressed the air, forcing caution.
Hazau then inclined his body in respect and said with a smile — Yara is listening, isn't she?
Tekio was confused.
— Her essence is marvelous, a shame it's wasted on you.
But that's not a problem, a better receptacle will be easy to find. I will make a point of separating her from you.
Inside Tekio, something snapped. Yara, always present, let out her voice—not in supplication this time, but in contained fury.
— That animal is pathetic — Yara whispered, her voice for Tekio alone. — I'm counting on you to pulverize him.
Tekio's eyes narrowed; the electricity around his hands echoed like a drum. Aloud, his breath charged:
— I won't pulverize him… I will erase him from existence.
Dan adjusted his stance, a white flame already beginning to lick his fists. — Leave a bit for me — he said with that tense calm that precedes an explosion. — I won't let you have all the fun.
Stella clenched her teeth and smiled with hardness. — I'm in too. This time, I won't lose.
Amara rolled her shoulders, warming up her arms as one preparing for a fight that would demand everything. — I'll make sure I get my part this time.
Hazau, however, let out a final laugh—sweet, lethal.
— Beautiful… yet dead — he concluded, and his voice spread through the field as if already stamping their sentences.
The instant that followed was a knot of tension. Each of them felt it: it was impossible to advance without strategy. The aura surrounding Hazau compacted the air; his energy had the weight of the Abyss and the malleability of roots that coil and strangle. Impulsive attacks would be swallowed.
Tekio looked at his companions, finding in Dan's and Stella's eyes the same contained fire he felt within himself. Amara, beside him, breathed slowly, controlling her fear and converting it into firmness.
— Wait for the opening — murmured Tekio, more to himself than the others. — Let's not give him the chance to divide us.
Behind his determined gaze was something more: memories of the flash, of Mei, of the bleeding tree. There was the conviction that they would not retreat—because there was nowhere to go back to. And there was Yara, warmed by a strange new contentment, rooting for that sister who now walked among the living.
Hazau extended his arms like a conductor. The roots around him vibrated. Time seemed to stiffen, waiting for the first move.
The air seemed to pulse around the Tree of Life, every root, every branch vibrating with the growing energy. Hazau took a step forward and, with a cruel smile, announced:
— Let the dance of death begin.
The impact was immediate. As if by an impossible sleight of hand, Hazau's presence multiplied, spreading across the entire vastness of the environment. From the ground, beams rose in spirals, roots contorting like serpents, and the world around them began to spin in an ascending hurricane of wood, stone, and abyssal energy. Every movement seemed intent on crushing anything alive that dared cross that space.
Quickly, Tekio and Amara moved out of Hazau's direct reach, their shadows merging with the forming chaos. But Dan and Stella, wielding the explosive power that made them living tempests, advanced through the opening path.
Beams exploded into white flames with every step Dan took. His clones appeared and vanished like ghosts, each explosion a whisper of destruction that forced Hazau to retreat, dodging waves of heat and light. Stella, in turn, danced between the structures of light she herself created, launching arrow-currents that severed roots and branches, exploding them with surgical precision. She moved with deadly grace, every step an attack, every leap an opportunity.
Together, Dan and Stella were twin tempests, light and fire mixed in absolute synchrony. Every blow from Dan carried devastating force, every shot from Stella illuminated and burned the space, carving a path while dragging Hazau to where they wanted him—a flat, firm piece of ground, the perfect terrain for the next stage of the battle.
Hazau tried to counter-attack. A black wave of energy erupted, seeking Tekio and Amara in the shadows, as if wanting to tear out every trace of their existence. But the combined storm of light and flame was superior to nature, to the Abyss itself. Hazau was thrown back, dragged, while the group maintained the pressure. The battle was intense, a spectacle of destruction and brilliance, but Dan and Stella managed to move the enemy into the desired position.
Then, in a calculated instant, Tekio emerged from the shadows. Hazau smiled, expecting it. He knew Tekio's pattern: always close the distance, always attack hand-to-hand. A straight punch would come, and Hazau distorted part of his body, aiming to dodge the attack and sever the boy's arm.
— Taking punches from Tekio… is like having your energy restructured — Hazau thought. Every blow from the young man scrambled the fluidity of his essence, making it impossible to control techniques or manipulate the Abyss with perfection. Tekio was a dangerous unknown, and now he was right in front of him.
An easy target.
But before Hazau could finish the move, a white shadow cut through the air: Amara. Her blue eyes shone, her determination overflowed. She no longer possessed her powerful technique from before, but her punch carried pure force and intent, striking first, opening an unexpected breach. Tekio seized the opportunity, adding his strength to hers.
A brutal sequence began: punches and kicks, coordinated blows that dragged Hazau across the area. Tekio and Amara moved as one, perhaps because Tekio had Yara's soul or because they had fought against each other so many times, but they knew exactly where the other would strike, coordinating as if they had created a perfect choreography. Every impact from Amara, though lesser than Tekio's, subtly but significantly disrupted Hazau's energy control. Hazau realized it—and unlike Tekio, he knew the reason, in a way. She was a promising variant, essential, an element.
The battle reached its peak when Amara shattered Hazau's legs with a precise blow. Tekio, taking advantage of the enemy's low posture, concentrated energy into an ascending ray that exploded in pure flame and light, hitting Hazau directly in the head. The impact caused his black aura to dissipate into sparks, and the ground around them shook with the force of the explosion.
Hazau was hurled back and fell, momentarily knocked out by the lethal combination. But his smile persisted, malevolent, knowing the dance was not yet over. He had underestimated the storm of Dan and Stella, the deadly coordination of Tekio and Amara—and it had cost him dearly.
Bleeding, yet confident he would not lose again—after all, the Abyss was definitively on his side.
As he took a deep breath, Dan and Stella regrouped, watching Tekio and Amara emerge from the shadows, ready for the next attack. The Tree of Life still pulsed, the sky still blazed with abyssal energy, and Hazau, even wounded, still breathed—the epic combat was far from over.
To be continued…