In the open cavity that was the underground temple of the Espada Clan, the masked swordmasters gazed upon the heavens whose skies were consumed by the rumbling black storm.

At the center was a spheroid of dense Aether, left behind by the Microcosm of their teacher, Emyprean Thunderburst.

"Once dragged into the Microcosm, there's only one path forward. That is certain death." One of the masked swordmasters remarked, staring at the dense spheroid.

"We have won... The Espada Clan has regained its honor. Our greatest humiliation, the Rogue Blade, has been shattered into pieces."

Before any of them could celebrate, the dense spheroid in the center of the rumbling black storm unravelled. A bright light pierced from the inside, blinding as the brilliance of creation.

It originated from a tiny crack in the sphere of dense aetheric matter, yet it was enough. The masked swordmasters watched as the Microcosm of their teacher shatter.

The earth shook as an eerie screech echoed across the darkened heavens. In mere moments, a figure was hurtled towards the underground temple, crashing onto it.

Structures of ancient origins became rubble as dust enveloped the not-so-underground area. The masked swordmasters squinted their eyes.

It was then that they noticed their teacher coughing up blood amidst the rubble and dust. Without any hesitation or delay, the masked swordmasters bolted towards him.

"Master!" One of them roared as Dante glanced at them, his face bloodied. He held his blade tightly with his remaining arm, standing up in the rubble.

"She's stronger than I expected." His words were heard by his students, who turned their eyes in the same direction as his.

In the heavens was a queen, the ruler of the skies, whose light penetrated through the thunderclouds that enveloped the land.

Her crown hovered above her head, shining with radiance as her body brimmed with wounds from the Microcosm. Despite the severe injuries, her eyes were as clear as day.

Francine held the Zweihander, barely surviving being encapsulated by the Microcosm. It was the price she paid for being less refined than the old fool.

At the very least, her layered domain worked.

Dante furrowed his eyebrows, coughing up blood as he gathered his remaining strength. Only one person in humanity was capable of achieving the final evolution of metahumans.

It was none other than the seventh Paragon of SIGIL, the strongest of humanity, Alastair Glass.

The Macrocosm was her greatest weapon against adversaries and allies. An ability capable of bending the world to her will, as though she had become the goddess of reality.

Staring at his former and rebellious student, Dante was reminded of when Alastair became the strongest during the Revolution against the Clan.

It was from that moment that their dreams were shattered into pieces, overshadowed by the sheer power of the strongest.

"I can't believe I'm having flashbacks... Have I gotten that old?" Dante chuckled as he glared at Francine, who stood with grace despite her bloodied appearance.

She was in a state of enlightenment, becoming part of the world that gave birth to her. Understanding its secrets, gaining wisdom, and receiving clarity.

Francine turned her attention towards the old fool, wielding her Zweihander as the rumbling stormy skies were wiped away in a single motion.

The rays of the heavens made their landfall, giving warmth to the world below them. It was as though paradise had come after the end of days.

Microcosms and Macrocosms shared the same properties; the difference was how these concepts were brought into the world.

The Imprinted Domain forces your Brand to crystallize into a physical and metaphysical object, while the Layered Domain practically combines your Brand with the world.

For these reasons, the skies above became the Heaven of her Macrocosm. It was far more pure than the blue skies, pale white and glorious.

The trumpets of angels resounded across the heavens and the earth, calling for the Armageddon that would consume the world.

Dante and his students watched as the trumpets echoed six times. It was when it reached its seventh trumpet that the old swordmaster realized the properties of her Macrocosm.

Electric arcs of lightning bolts focused on his remaining arm as the heavenly hymn of angels got louder than ever before.

In an instant, Dante bolted towards Francine for one final attack that would end the clash between the two of them. But during that nanosecond, he saw the world around the underground temple.

This wasn't his world anymore...

When the seventh trumpet ended, the world froze. It wasn't time-stopping, but the world halted in its purest form. A single moment.

Mountains left behind by their destruction erupted as gigantic chains towered over these landscapes, soaring across the skies, and immediately hurling him into the earth.

Once the layered domain was established in the world, only another layer could ever be granted the thought of opposing it.

Dante crashed into the forest, breaking apart the branches of trees and uprooting some of them. His perception didn't break away from Francine, whose regal eyes gaze down upon him.

Coughing up blood, the gargantuan chains revolved around Francine like a slithering serpent. Once the seventh trumpet of her Macrocosm had ended.

There was nothing more but the divine execution of those below her.

"You have gotten stronger," Dante muttered to himself, nothing more but a whisper before the brilliance of the heavens. He couldn't move a single muscle.

So, he gritted his teeth and roared with his final strength. "Don't touch my students. Or I'll climb from the depths of hell and find you."

Francine's bloodied head tilted, her face cold and indifferent. Her supple lips opened as she declared. "You aren't in the position to make demands."

"You shouldn't have come after me, old fool."

With a single gesture of her fingers, the gargantuan chains of the heavens descended and struck Dante with the weight of the skies above the world. In an instant, his wrinkled body became a mist of blood.

There was nothing left behind other than the treasured sword of the Espada, his Armament.

The masked swordmasters felt a sense of foreboding in their hearts as they looked at one another and leaped out of the open underground temple.

Outside, they saw the world transforming into what it once was, returning to its original form.

"Teacher..." One of them mumbled as all the students of Espada turned their eyes towards the sword implanted in the ground. It was the Armament of their teacher, the Espada.

Beside it was the exhausted and bloodied Francine, holding the handle of the sword with a sense of familiarity. Seeing her appearance, the masked swordmasters tensed up.

From that battle in the skies where the two carved mountains from the earth, they understood that not a single one of them stood against the Rogue Blade of Espada.

"You're his students... Unfortunately for you, I wouldn't be returning this blade. None of you is worthy of it." Francine smiled at the masked swordmasters.

She gripped the handle tightly and remarked. "To give the old man some face, I will be sparing all of you. You can take this sword..."

"Only if you dare to challenge me for its rein."

Hearing her words, none of the masked swordmasters stepped forward. "It seems that all of you are smart. The Espada Clan will be in good hands then."

Taking the implanted Espada from the ground, Francine walked away with her back pointed at the masked swordmasters behind her.

"If you want to reclaim the Espada, find and challenge me. I will be open to any of your foolish farce."

The masked swordmasters gripped their blades tightly, teeth clenched as they couldn't even avenge their teacher. They were nothing more than a disappointment.

But unexpectedly, one of the masked swordmasters stepped forward. The others were astounded, but glared at their comrade. After all, they understood who it was.

Francine's ears perked as she looked back at the masked swordmaster walking towards her. "Care to challenge me?"

"Can I follow you? I want to be stronger in the blade."

The masked swordmaster bowed, eyes fiery with determination and ruthless resolve. It reminded the gorgeous lady of her eyes during her time in the Espada Clan.

"I see... Interesting." Francine didn't utter a response and kept walking. On the other hand, the masked swordmasters glared at the traitor.

The traitor didn't pay them any heed and followed behind the Rogue Blade. From that moment on, the Espada Clan would transform into its newest form. A school of many instead of one.

Legends would have it that the greatest dream of the practitioners from each and every one of these schools was the defeat of the Rogue Blade and the Traitor.

On the other hand, a snapped echo deep within the forest as the masked swordmaster following behind Francine tensed up.

"Don't be so tense... No one will bite you here." It was an arrogant voice, coming from behind, in front, everywhere. Then, a gorgeous white-haired lady emerged from the shadows.

"My troublesome partner, killing a Paragon in broad daylight. As expected of the one I chose." It was none other than the White Devil, the strongest of humanity, Alastair Glass.

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