[Location: The Surface – The Glass Crater (Formerly the Void Shrine)]

[Time: 10 Minutes After Zero's Departure]

Time goes back a few days ago, and just before Damien and Isabelle descended into the second layer

The world above them also continued to move closer to its intended trajectory

On the ground, the war was over. But the killing wasn't.

The massive beam of white light that had erased the Second Prince and the Void Shrine had left a scar on the world.

The desert sand had been fused into a smooth, steaming bowl of glass stretching for miles.

Around the rim of this crater, the remnants of the Dragon Empire's Army stood in a daze.

Generals, mages, and knights, even if the void monsters were gone, the reamining thousands of them stared at the empty sky where their prince had been atomized. They were leaderless. Broken.

King Durin stood on a ridge of crystallized sand, his a giant hammer resting on his shoulder.

His beard crackled with flames, the residual energy of his recent breakthrough to the 8th Order.

Next to him, Queen Aelinor floated a few inches off the ground. Her eyes were glowing with the emerald light of the World Tree.

"Bastards, how dare they look confused after all the chaos they caused," Durin rumbled, watching the Dragon empire soldiers mill about like ants whose hill had been kicked over.

"Should we kill them all? To avoid any troubles?."

"Indeed, that would be the best way to avoid any troubles," Aelinor said, her voice cold.

She raised her staff. The ground beneath the Dragon Empire Army began to rumble. Massive, thorny roots uncoiled from the sand, hungry for blood.

"If we leave them be, they will probably regroup," Aelinor declared.

"We must purge them as a means to repay the lives lost here today."

Durin hefted his hammer. "Aye. No mercy for the Void-touchers."

Saying this, the two monarchs prepared to unleash a massacre.

A combined attack from two 8th Order beings would wipe the remaining twenty thousand soldiers off the map in seconds.

Aelinor's mana flared. The roots surged forward, ready to impale the terrified army.

BOOM.

However, before anyone could react, a sound like a meteor impact shattered the concentration.

It came from the center of the battlefield.

A shockwave of pure, compressed air exploded outward, snapping Aelinor's massive roots like dry twigs and knocking King Durin back a step.

Dust and shattered glass filled the air.

"Who goes there?!" Durin roared, swinging his axe toward the dust cloud.

The dust settled slowly.

Standing in the center of the impact zone was a man. He wore a simple, tattered martial arts gi.

He had no weapon. No armor. Just scars crisscrossing his exposed arms and chest.

He stood with his hands in his pockets, looking bored.

It was someone Damien had a seen a long time ago, back in Silverwood.

Although now he looked very different, it was indeed Garrik the King of fists

"You two are noisy," Garrick said, picking his ear with a pinky finger.

He looked at Durin, then at Aelinor.

"Took you long enough to hit the 8th Order. I was starting to think you'd die of old age first."

Hearing this, Aelinor's eyes narrowed into dangerous slits.

The emerald light around her intensified, turning from serene nature magic into jagged, killing intent.

"Garrick," she hissed.

Recalling some bad memories from the past, for this man who had once been her comrade and a fellow king with her, she had no feeling of friendship.

"You have the nerve to show your face here?" Aelinor raised her staff.

"Let me guess, you were also here watching while this war went on?"

"I watch," Garrick shrugged. "That's what I do."

"Then watch this!"

Aelinor didn't hold back. She unleashed a [Nature Art: Spear of the World Root].

A massive spike of condensed wood mana, harder than diamond, shot toward Garrick's chest.

It moved at a speed faster than sound.

However, Garrick didn't dodge.

He just exhaled, a sly smile on his mouth in the process.

[Breath of the Titan].

He punched.

It wasn't a fancy technique. It was a simple, straight right hook.

CRACK.

The fist met the magic spear.

The spear in contact instantly shattered into sawdust.

The shockwave of the punch continued, splitting the air and carving a trench in the glass floor behind Aelinor.

Aelinor gasped, her barrier flickering as the wind pressure alone nearly knocked her out of the sky.

Garrick lowered his fist, steam rising from his knuckles.

"Calm down, Pointy-ears," Garrick said, his voice dropping an octave.

He released his aura.

The gravity in the area seemed to double. It was the suffocating, physical pressure of a man who had fought the Human Emperor for three days and nights and lived to tell the tale.

Even Durin and Aelinor, fresh in their 8th Order power, felt a chill go down their spines.

"If I wanted you dead," Garrick said softly, "you wouldn't have finished casting that spell."

Calming down, Durin stepped forward, placing a hand on Aelinor's shoulder to steady her.

"Why are you here, Garrik?" Durin growled.

"Are you here to save the Empire's dogs?"

"Save them? No."

Garrick gestured to the terrified Dragon Empire Army.

"I'm here to save everyone."

"Speak plain, human," Durin grunted.

"Think, Dwarf," Garrick sighed, rubbing his temples.

"You kill these twenty thousand men. And what happens next?"

"It's none of your business," Aelinor spat. "But this way we'll send a message to all those who have negative intentions towards us."

She said giving him an eye, however Garrick pretended not to see it as he continued to speak

"Wrong," Garrick shook his head. "If you wipe out this army here, fine it may do what in tended to do, But you'll create something much worse... you'll create a vacuum."

He pointed to the West, toward the Kingdom of Light.

"The Church is watching. If the Empire collapses today, the Pope marches in tomorrow 'to restore order.' Do you want the Holy Paladins patrolling the Elven Woods? Do you want the Inquisition in the Dwarven mines?"

Durin paused. The Church was just as dangerous as the Empire, perhaps more so because they claimed moral superiority.

"And the Void Cult," Garrick continued, his expression darkening.

"These soldiers? They are the visible threat. If you butcher them and the Cult goes underground. They'll Harder to find. Harder to kill."

He looked at the trembling army.

"Let Empire have thier survivors. Let them lick thier wounds. A wounded, paranoid Emperor keeps the Church in check. A balance of terror keeps the world stable until He returns."

"He?" Aelinor asked.

Garrick looked up at the empty sky, where the lingering traces of White Will still hung in the atmosphere.

"The boy," Garrick grinned, a flash of genuine respect in his eyes.

"Theron's kid. Zero."

He turned his back on them.

"You two are strong now. But that kid?" Garrick laughed. "It seems my bet was right choosing him when we first met! When he climbs out of the Abyss... the real war starts."

Garrick bent his knees.

"Until then... don't flip the table."

BOOM.

With a single leap, Garrick launched himself into the stratosphere, disappearing into the clouds like a human rocket, leaving the two monarchs standing in the silent crater.

Durin lowered his axe. He looked at the Dragon Empire Army.

"Bah," Durin spat. "The brute makes sense."

Aelinor slowly lowered her staff, the killing intent fading.

"Forget it, let them go," she whispered. "For now."

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