Amelia stood her ground, feet planted, posture unchanged as a wall of dense flame bloomed in front of her.

Kharik's blade chipped against it, almost like the flames were given mass as sparks shrieked across the snowy plains.

The executioner twisted, pulling back and striking again. The blow came in low, aimed at Amelia's legs.

She shifted right before countering with her own attack.

A point-blank detonation along Kharik's chest.

He saw the attack, but damage that had accumulated in his legs as a result of fighting Ryn slowed him down just enough.

The force hurled him backward.

Kharik skidded across the snow, boots carving deep trenches as he fought to keep his footing, greatsword dragging behind him in a spray of sparks. He barely caught himself before crashing fully to the ground.

Amelia didn't wait.

She lifted her hand.

The air above Kharik ignited.

A barrage of fire appeared.

Dense spheres of compressed flames formed overhead and dropped at once, falling like meteor fragments.

Kharik twisted, rolling hard to the side as the first detonated where he'd landed, the impact punching a crater into the snow.

He came up into another explosion, forced to raise his blade and shoulder into the blast as heat and force slammed into him.

He moved again.

Another fireball struck where he would have been.

Then another.

And another.

Amelia stepped forward with each strike.

The fire didn't spread widely. It landed precisely, boxing him in, and cutting off angles, leaving fewer and fewer places to stand.

Ryn saw it clearly now.

She wasn't trying to overwhelm him.

She tried to suffocating him.

But even as the pressure mounted—

He noticed it.

Amelia's shoulders tightened between casts. Her breathing came sharper, uneven, just for a beat too long.

Ryn saw it too, as her skin turned a dark red hue with each ball of flame she released.

She was burning herself out.

Kharik stopped retreating.

Another sphere detonated where he'd been a beat earlier, but instead of rolling away—he lunged forward, boots driving into the ground as he dived straight through the gap between spells.

Straight at Amelia.

Ryn's pulse spiked.

He clutched his eye, paths collapsing as Kharik abandoned defense entirely, committing to one lethal strike.

"—Amelia!" Ryn tried to shout.

Too late.

Kharik barreled through the last detonation, shoulder and blade raised as his Blessing surged, tearing straight through her wall of fire.

Then, something slammed into his side.

A violent gust exploded outward as Kharik slammed into the snow.

"Forgot about me?"

Fritz stood between them, rainbow light flaring unevenly around his body as wind essence roared to life.

Blood still stained his armor, but his stance was solid.

Recovered.

Not completely, but enough to keep fighting.

Kharik snarled, boots digging in as he righted himself, greatsword sweeping back into guard.

His eyes flicked once to the whole party.

"The entire Gremory Hero Party," he taunted dryly, lips curling. "For little old me?"

The executioner let out a short, humorless breath.

"You shouldn't have."

Something brushed Ryn's mind.

"Ryn."

The voice wasn't a sound. It slipped past his ears and settled directly behind his thoughts.

"I can link us," Taylor said, calm but strained. "Briefly. I'll share my Blessing."

Ryn didn't hesitate.

"Do it."

The sensation deepened, like several thoughts falling into the same rhythm.

Amelia.

Fritz.

Taylor.

All there.

He exhaled slowly.

Then he moved.

"Positions," Ryn said across the link.

"Fritz. You're the guard. Keep him focused on you. Don't stop moving."

A flicker of amusement brushed back through the connection.

"Wasn't planning to."

"Taylor," Ryn continued, eyes locked on Kharik. "When he leaves the ground—buy me one second."

"Understood."

Ryn turned his attention last to Amelia.

Her fire still burned dense and heavy, but he could feel the strain beneath it now. Pressure built, like a coil of heat that was too tight, building toward collapse.

"Pull it in," Ryn told her gently. "I'll cool you down. Wait for my signal."

"Alright," Amelia answered.

He made his way toward her.

Cold surged outward, his Essence flowing in a controlled measure as it wrapped around her. Frost crept across the scorched ground at Amelia's feet as Ryn drew heat from her aura and bled it harmlessly into the air—just enough to keep her steady.

At the same time—

A coin flicked through the air.

Fritz caught it on reflex, glancing down at it with a grimace.

"You know what this does by now, don't you?"

"Yeah," Fritz muttered. "Don't remind me."

Ryn took one last look around.

Everyone was in place.

Everything was ready.

"Let's end this."

Fritz moved first as planned.

Wind exploded beneath his feet as he surged forward, making no attempt to hide his approach. Snow scattered in a violent wake as he charged straight at Kharik.

A provocation.

Kharik's attention snapped to him instantly.

"Nuisance," the executioner murmured, smile long gone.

He stepped into the charge, greatsword sweeping up as his Blessing surged, pressure crashing forward in a killing path meant to split Fritz in half.

Fritz didn't slow.

At the last possible instant, he twisted—wind roaring as he redirected the force sideways. The blow barely grazed past him before Kharik's giant greatsword plunged into the ground.

Ryn saw the angle. The beastman had to spend a second or two to withdraw his sword from the ice, just enough time for this to work.

"Now!" Ryn sent through the link.

The ground beneath Kharik vanished as fire erupted from underneath.

Snow vaporized, a column of force ripped Kharik off his footing, throwing him into the air with a violent ascent.

Fritz exhaled sharply.

Condensing his Essence to catch Kharik mid-rise, he hurled the beastman higher into the air.

Space folded.

Ryn blinked, reappearing beside Fritz in the same heartbeat, boots skidding as blood spilled freely from his eyes.

"Taylor."

He didn't need to say more.

She already knew.

The opening was perfect.

Something hit Kharik's mind.

A sudden, invasive distortion that tore through his mind for a fraction of a second too long.

Ryn looked up.

The world felt distant. Muted.

He raised his hand.

Snow leapt.

The beast arced through the air toward him, its form unraveling mid-flight, white fur collapsing inward as metal took shape. The weight of the blade settled into Ryn's grip like it had always belonged there.

For one impossible instant—

Everything aligned.

And for once—

He was no longer alone.

The future had shown him many things, but this one instant was inevitable…locked into time as an unchanging event in all of their lives.

"Now!"

Snow glowed pure white, answering his call. A pillar of ice erupted from under Ryn's feet, sending him flying upward.

Wind tore past Ryn's ears, blood streaking from his eyes as Aquila burned for one final, perfect instant.

Only for that split second, Ryn had appeared in the executioner's vision.

"It's over."

Thnk.

The blade buried itself deep into Kharik's abdomen.

Kharik's breath tore free in a broken gasp, shock flashing across his face as his body finally understood what his mind failed to process.

Ryn tore the blade free as they passed.

Every future that he'd seen of carnage—had disappeared…replaced by this one, single moment.

The momentum carried them apart.

Kharik fell first.

His massive body twisted in the air, greatsword slipping from numb fingers as blood sprayed the air.

Ryn fell after him.

The strength vanished all at once.

Aquila was gone, the link was gone, and he could no longer muster any Essence.

The world tilted violently as his vision darkened, blood still streaming freely from his eyes. His fingers twitched uselessly around the hilt of the blade before it slipped from his grasp.

"Ryn!"

Wind screamed upward.

Fritz pushed past every limit he had left, legs detonating against the ground as he launched himself into the air. His arms wrapped around Ryn just before the drop became fatal, the impact jarring through both of them as they slammed back into the rough snow.

They didn't stop until the slope did.

Fritz hit the ground on one knee, breathing hard, arms locked tight around Ryn's limp form.

"Hey—hey, stay with me," he muttered, voice rough.

Boots crunched nearby.

Amelia was there first, fire long extinguished, catching Ryn under the arm as Taylor rushed in from the side. Together, they hauled him upright, Ryn sagging between them, barely conscious.

His legs shook and his vision blurred.

But he was standing.

The four of them turned as one.

Kharik lay half-buried in the snow several meters away, his body carved deep into the ground from the fall. Blood spread beneath him in a dark pool.

He was still breathing.

Barely.

A wet sound escaped his throat as he laughed once, broken and amused.

"…Hah," Kharik rasped. "I underestimated you…Gremory."

His gaze shifted, slow but deliberate, settling on Ryn.

"But don't misunderstand," he continued, breath bubbling at his lips. "This was never about killing you."

Ryn didn't move.

Kharik smiled faintly.

"I," he said, voice weakening, "just like you…was only buying time."

The air seemed to tighten.

"Kharvos," Kharik whispered, eyes glinting with something sharp even as they dimmed, "is heading to Moonlight as we speak."

Amelia's breath caught.

Ryn felt it immediately—the way the futures twisted, the sudden weight pressing down on his chest.

Then—

"No."

The word came out sharp.

Everyone turned.

Mira stood frozen at the edge of the clearing, eyes wide, hands trembling at her sides.

"No—no, this wasn't what we agreed on," she hissed, staring at Kharik in disbelief.

"YOU LIAR!"

Silence crashed down like a blade.

Kharik's smile widened, blood spilling freely now.

"…Funny," he murmured. "You still thought you were in control."

His eyes finally lost focus.

"And now," he breathed, almost gently, "you're out of time."

Kharik's head fell back into the snow.

The last breath rattled out of his chest before the light finally drained from his eyes.

…

Just silence.

The wind swept across the clearing, carrying red snow. It whispered through broken ice, scorched stone, and bodies that it passed over.

Ryn swayed where he stood, barely aware of it. Amelia's hand tightened on his arm. Fritz didn't speak. Taylor's link had long since gone quiet.

Then—

A sound.

Not laughter.

A sob.

Ryn turned.

Mira stood at the edge of the clearing, shoulders shaking, tears streaking down her face as she stared at Kharik's corpse in disbelief.

"This wasn't—" she choked. "This wasn't how it was supposed to go."

Her gaze lifted slowly, meeting theirs.

"I didn't mean for anyone to die," she whispered, voice breaking. "I swear—I just…"

The wind howled louder.

And for the first time since the battle began—

No one knew who the enemy was anymore.

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