Scene shifts back to the Island of Fire—Morgan Tarek's factory still burning violently under the crimson sky.
Orimo's eyes snapped open, a sharp breath escaping him as cold sweat rolled down his cheek.
Ryuki frowned.
"What's wrong?"
Orimo's gaze darkened.
"Something's coming."
He turned sharply.
"Rome—destroy everything and return to the ship. Auransa, Ryuki—you're with me."
Equa Rome nodded firmly.
"Roger."
They sprinted through the scorched ruins, smoke twisting around them like dying spirits.
From the side path, a figure stepped out—sword at his hip, eyes calm.
Yura.
Orimo halted.
"Did you find your friend?"
Yura's voice was steady, though his expression wasn't.
"He's not here."
Orimo gave a brief nod.
"Then come. We're heading to the ship."
Together, they moved through the burning landscape, flames reflecting off their eyes, ashes falling like black snow.
But as they reached the final ridge overlooking the shore—
Ryuki stopped breathing for a split second.
Eight massive navy warships cut through the smoke-filled horizon, cannons primed, sails bearing the emblem of justice.
Their shadows swallowed the sea.
Orimo's jaw tightened, aura flickering with a violent pulse.
He whispered:
"This… has started now."