Auren lay sprawled across the blood-soaked floor of the giant hall, motionless, like a broken blade cast aside. The battle raged on without mercy. Dax, locked in his Terminator form, clashed against Ryzin, his iron body colliding with water-born power. Yet Ryzin wasn't even serious—he toyed with Dax, as if the fight was a cruel game.

The only forces holding the battlefield together were Nyra's towering beasts, roaring and thrashing, and Nova's endless canvas creations, painted fury turning into flesh and steel.

In the shadows of the hall, Vivi crouched low, trembling. She had thought this would be an adventure, something like play. But this was no game. Blood sprayed across the stone like paint. The stench of broken flesh and scattered bones filled the air, painting the truth of war on her soul. Her hands shook. Her eyes refused to blink. Fear gripped her tighter than chains.

And then—Nyra's voice shattered the suffocating dread, raw and desperate, rising from her very core:

"Do not die, Auren! You were the one who made Phantom Tideborn! You can't die here! Not like this—wake up, Auren! We need you!"

Her cry echoed, burning through the chaos.

Something inside Auren flickered. A spark. A breath. A will. From his left eye, purple flames burst forth once again, twisting and roaring like a beast breaking free. His body shook violently as the dark fog dissolved. His aura raged, rising higher and higher, no longer fragile—unstoppable.

Mad Hunter – Stage 3.

Lunatic Predator… awakened. The Mad Hunter's ability—one of the most feared, one of the least understood.

When Auren smiled, that smile spoke louder than war itself. It wasn't joy. It wasn't madness. It was both, stitched together in something terrifying . That smile whispered promises:

– I will carry the pain of the girls Aazin slaughtered.– I will bear the weight of their cries.– I will take responsibility for every scar carved into this world.

But above all, that smile declared one thing—the Lunatic Predator had awakened.

At first, Aazin didn't notice. How could he? The battlefield was already drowning in chaos—swords clashing, explosions cracking, screams echoing like broken instruments.

And then… the chaos found rhythm. A violent, twisted harmony.Every scream, every clash, every blast aligned. It was music. Ancient, haunting, deliberate.Like the battlefield itself had become a stage for a cruel orchestra.

In the center of that symphony, Auren stirred. One second, he was still. The next—he was standing upright, not bracing for combat, not crouched like a warrior. Just standing tall, as if he had stepped out of a dream.

His lips curved into a demonic grin . Purple flames licked across his skin, coiling like serpents around his face. The air reeked of iron and burning ashes, and the shadows bent unnaturally toward him.

Pain twisted into joy. Sorrow warped into hope. And then—he screamed.

A scream so violent it shook the stone pillars, so raw it echoed like thunder cracking inside the hall. The ground vibrated, dust raining down from the ceiling.

His body jerked, spasming like a puppet gone insane. Yet his voice was alive, manic, intoxicated:

"Let the fun begin! Hahahahaha!I'm feeling it—after so long! The long-lost taste of fun, pride… and pain!Wowowowow!"

He leaped on one leg, then the other, bouncing like a deranged jester. Whuppp! He flipped in midair, his head spinning unnaturally fast, his laughter trailing like broken bells.

Then—Clap!A single clap that cracked louder than a whip.Fusssssss!

The air around Aazin folded into itself. A purple room materialized, walls humming like a living cage. And in the silence that followed—slashes.

Lunatic Slashes.Blades that carved through reality itself. Aazin gasped, but too late—his belly tore open, blood spilling, before his mind even caught up.

And then—just as suddenly—the room vanished. The world snapped back to normal.

Auren no longer looked mad. He stood behind Aazin, calm.Composed.Weak sword in hand, his breathing slow and steady, as if he had never moved at all.

The Lunatic Predator form had elevated him beyond humanity. Speed was so unnatural that even time itself seemed to lag. But truth lingered: the Mad Hunter ability alone wasn't this powerful. It was Auren's Vitara that breathed fire into it, that forced this madness into greatness.

Across the hall, Ryzin was still battling Dax's Terminator for m—metal against fire, fists against storms. But in a fleeting pause, his eyes found his brother.

And in that frozen second, Ryzin saw the impossible. Aazin… cut in half. His body didn't even know it yet. The horror hadn't caught up to him.

Ryzin's eyes widen. , is lips were trembling with disbelief. A whisper escaped, soft and broken, drenched in pain:

"Brother… Aazin?"

And behind Aazin stood Auren—The Lunatic Predator. Purple flames burning through his hair, one eye blazing like an eternal fire.

Ryzin's heart refused to believe. But truth is truth. And trust… is trust.

Auren's voice slid out at its utmost calm—soft, measured, as if naming a book on a high shelf. The hall seemed to hush to hear him. Even the dying echoes leaned in. Listen, you wanted to know my name. I think you may have heard it by now, by a friend's mouth. If you haven't heard, then let me tell you. My name is Auren Ryuki.

The words fell like cold water. They were patient, almost tender — the opposite of the carnage around them — and yet they carried an edge that cut deeper than any blade.

Aazin, bleeding and staggering, felt the world tilt. Blood slicked his lips; the metallic tang filled his mouth and throat. His belly — a gruesome, living wound — began to drift away from his body, the flesh parting like pages torn free. He blinked, disbelief moving slowly in his veins.

Ash phantom? he hissed.

The hiss came out small, raw, a splinter of sound. For Aazin, the name was a hook, pulling up a memory he could not escape. It snapped him back — a flash of another voice, heavy and absolute.

Draven, saying something in a heavy voice. Ashh phantom, there are 15 probabilities. 15 kids, among them 1 is a real Ash Phantom. He has to kill all. So Ash Phantom never emerges. If by any chance he came to himself, the only thing we need to do is war. I myself, I'll enter into battle. And kill him before he makes any nonsense. Mythical power is mine. And only mine.

The remembered words tasted like iron and ash. Each syllable hammered at his skull; images of cold eyes and a command that left no room for mercy flickered behind his lids. The room seemed to close in around Aazin—sound compressing, colors heightening; the light took on the jaundiced, feverish glow of an old lamp.

Back in the present, the wound at Aazin's midline drifted farther as if propelled by an invisible hand. His breath came jagged, each inhale a fight against the pull of the dark.

Auren Ryuki, you can't succeed this time.

The sentence landed like a verdict. It was soft, defiant, edged with a hopeless courage. In that moment, the hall held its breath — the clash of steel and distant explosions became a faint ocean beyond a cliff. Purple smoke curled from Auren, a living halo that made the shadows twitch. The smell of scorched hair and ozone threaded the air, and somewhere a bell chimed as if marking the end of something old.

Aazin's vision blurred around the edges. Pain and memory braided together into a single, terrible clarity: this was not only a physical cut, but the severing of certainty. The battlefield spun; faces hiccuped into blotches of color; Ryzin's distant cry fractured into shards. And at the heart of all of it, Auren stood — impossibly calm, named, and rooted like a dark tree in the storm.

"I am not dead right now!" Aazin roared, his voice echoing like a fractured bell across the hall. His body trembled, blood dripping, yet his defiance split the silence."Ryzin… emerge!"

Ryzin nodded once. No hesitation.

A black robe of energy stretched and connected the two brothers, as if shadows themselves had sewn them together. From that connection, a massive orb began to form in midair — a sphere of raw darkness.

It grew. And grew. A huge black energy ball, spinning too fast for the eye to follow, twisting the air into chaos.

The wind screamed. The hall itself trembled. The orb's rotation birthed a tornado, a spiraling column of violent air that dragged everything into its pull.

Mages lost their footing, their chants torn from their lips. Giants groaned, their heavy frames dragged sideways. Dax's Terminator form screeched in resistance. Nyra's massive wings beat furiously against the current . Vivi stumbled, clinging to a shattered pillar, her eyes wide in terror. And even Auren — the Lunatic Predator — was lifted, spun, and carried into its storm.

The two brothers stood at its heart . Their figures began to blur, merging into the center of that monstrous black spear of energy. Each pulse they gave off cracked the air, shook the walls, shattered the marble beneath their feet. The hall became a storm made of them.

And amid this hurricane of destruction…Auren drifted.

Someone came.. tapson the floor, sounding firm.

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