The battlefield held its breath.
For a moment that felt stolen from time itself, the heirs—scattered across the torn landscape—stared into the distance where pillars of crushed stone still trembled from Ammon's unseen eruption.
The beasts were gone.
One heartbeat they had been lunging forward with fangs like sabers and bodies brimming with wild bloodlust…
The next, an entire section of the field had been swallowed beneath collapsing mountains.
No spell chant.
No visible caster.
No warning.
Just impact—raw, unforgiving, absolute.
The heirs felt the aftershock ripple through their bones.
Some staggered.
Some gasped.
Some nearly dropped their weapons.
But none of them understood what they were witnessing.
Simon swiped dirt off his brow, squinting across the distant haze.
"Who… did that?" he breathed, unable to steady the tremor in his voice.
Anya didn't answer at first. Her flame-wreathed hands flickered weakly, reacting to her heartbeat's confusion.
"It wasn't any of us…" she whispered, eyes narrowing.
"…and whatever caused that… wasn't small."
They exchanged a quick glance—fear threaded with awe.
The battlefield had changed shape right under their feet, and none of them knew why.
At their far left, Elise and Varro warily held their defenses as dust clouds rolled over the demolished terrain like slow-moving storms. The wind tasted charged—alive—almost as if the earth itself had awakened briefly before falling silent again.
But silence never lasted long in war.
Because at the heart of the battlefield…
one presence remained standing.
One threat still towering.
One god still breathing.
Hart.
The Beast King's silhouette appeared through the drifting haze—massive, grotesque, built like a monument carved from nightmare.
His beasts were crushed, yet he stood untouched, as if the fall of his army meant nothing more than the loss of insects.
He raised his head slowly, sniffing the air.
A hunter sensing prey.
A god tasting defiance.
And the moment his eyes narrowed—
Adler moved.
Adler pushed through the last wisps of dust, refusing to let fear grip him. His heartbeat thundered like rolling drums as he sprinted toward Hart with impossible speed.
"Prince Adler! Wait!" Elise screamed from the side.
But he didn't stop.
Couldn't stop.
His instincts were on fire, and beneath them, something deeper blazed—a fury that had been growing since the first beast laid a claw on their people.
He roared and leapt, blade flashing like a falling star—
—and Hart met him head-on.
The clash erupted like thunder.
Steel rang against divine flesh.
Shockwaves blasted outward, kicking up torn soil.
Adler skidded back across the ground, barely keeping his balance, arms trembling from the impact.
Hart hadn't moved an inch.
His monstrous lips curled.
"So the little cub wishes to challenge a god?"
Adler wiped blood from his mouth.
"If your beasts can fall… so can you."
A dangerous smile split Hart's face.
"Then come, heir. Let your death amuse me.
Their battle consumed the field like a storm that refused to break.
Adler hurled himself forward again—slashes, thrusts, feints. His mane of hair whipped behind him as flame-like aura leaked from his limbs with every strike. His blade crackled, glowing hotter as adrenaline sharpened every nerve in his body.
Hart countered everything.
His arms—thick as walls—blocked Adler's sword.
His claws carved trenches through the earth.
His steps made the ground moan.
Adler was fast.
Hart was inevitable.
The heirs watched from a distance, terrified yet unable to look away.
"Adler… is holding his own," Anya whispered, breath shaking.
Simon—bloodied, exhausted, gripping his blade like a lifeline—shook his head.
"He's surviving."
Barely.
Every few minutes, Adler was thrown back—slammed into boulders, flipped across the ground, nearly crushed under thunderous blows. But every time, he rose again with fire burning in his eyes.
Minutes bled into an hour.
An hour blurred toward two.
Their duel carved a path across the battlefield.
Stone shattered.
Trees cracked.
Mountainsides broke open from missed strikes.
And still, Adler refused to fall.
But Hart… was infinite.
Relentless.
A storm given flesh.
When Hart finally caught Adler's blade mid-swing and snapped it in two, gasps tore through the watching heirs.
Adler fell back, panting, sweat and blood dripping from his brow.
Hart's voice rumbled like distant thunder.
"Is this the extent of humanity's bravery?"
He reached forward—ready to crush the prince's skull.
Simon moved first.
Not because he wasn't afraid—
but because he was terrified,
and choking on it.
He sprinted forward, blade dragging sparks, lungs burning with desperation.
"SIMON!" Anya shouted.
But this time… he didn't stop.
He remembered Ayden.
He remembered Ammon's distant light.
He remembered the mountains falling out of nowhere.
He remembered why they were heirs.
Simon leapt, slashing at Hart's arm with every ounce of strength he had left.
It didn't cut deep—
but it cut.
Hart hissed.
And that was enough.
Anya rushed after Simon, flames blooming around her fists. Firestorms spun from her palms as she struck Hart's side, engulfing him in brilliant heat.
Varro charged in next, his spear splitting the air with a shrill whistle.
Elise followed, lightning crackling from her fingertips as she traced runes mid-air.
One by one, the heirs entered the fray.
They didn't shout victory cries.
They didn't scream bravado.
They simply moved—
acting with a unity born of shared terror and unspoken resolve.
The heirs encircled Hart from all sides.
Hart's amusement shifted into irritation… then into something darker.
"Children," he growled, "you dare—"
Elise's lightning cut him off, ripping across his shoulders.
Varro struck next, piercing Hart's thigh.
Simon slashed at his back.
Anya blasted his chest with fire.
Adler, fueled by their support, snatched up a fallen spear and thrust upward with a roar, forcing Hart onto one knee.
The battlefield shook.
The god snarled.
And the heirs—the battered, exhausted, nearly broken heirs—stood their ground.
But Hart rose again, fury twisting his monstrous features. Blood dripped from his chin now—dark, steaming blood.
"You are insects," he roared.
"I am the apex. The devourer. The—"
Adler's eyes hardened.
No more speeches.
No more mercy.
"Together!" he shouted.
The heirs surged as one.
Simon swept low.
Varro stabbed high.
Anya's flames spiraled around them like burning wings.
Elise called down a lightning bolt so forceful it cracked the sky.
The combined force staggered Hart—really staggered him—for the first time.
His arms dropped for half a second.
That was all Adler needed.
He sprinted forward, channeling every ounce of will left in his bones.
His steps echoed like drumbeats.
His breath burned.
His heart screamed.
He jumped—high as if the air itself had lifted him—
and plunged his spear straight into Hart's chest.
A wet, sickening impact followed.
The spear pierced through flesh, bone, and divine muscle—driving straight into the Beast God's heart.
Hart's roar cut off into a strangled gasp.
His massive body shook.
His eyes widened in disbelief.
His knees buckled.
Then—
The Beast God collapsed.
The ground trembled under his fall.
Dust billowed.
Silence followed.
The heirs stood motionless, panting, trembling, staring at the fallen god whose shadow had once swallowed the battlefield.
Adler slowly pulled the spear free, blood dripping like ink onto the soil.
Simon let his blade drop.
Anya covered her mouth.
Elise wiped tears she didn't realize had fallen.
Their enemy lay dead.
But victory didn't feel triumphant.
Not with Ayden gone.
Not with Ammon missing.
Not with the sky too still… too watchful.
And somewhere far off, a ripple of unstable power pulsed through the air—
A reminder that the war…
was not finished.
Author Note:
I know a lot of the readers would ask who are the new characters.
Well then pardon me as I would make the explanation brief.
Elise and Varro are the two messengers who informed Adler about the fall of their armies. Now, Elise and Varro are commanders who escaped the battle between the beasts and the armies of Elarion.
For better understanding, you can reread chapter 24: From Pan To Fire