Theo and Dawn stumbled wearily into the main hall, breathless and drenched in blood.
The wounds glistened under the flickering lights, each step sending fresh streaks down his spine and into the waistband of his pants.
Dawn's arms were wrapped tightly around his waist, her hands stained red. His blood streaked across her shirt and face, smeared over her cheek where she'd pressed it to his back to keep pressure on the worst of it.
Her breaths came in short, sharp bursts—more from panic than exhaustion. The left side of her blouse was soaked through, clinging to her skin with a sticky warmth that wasn't her own.
They looked like survivors from a battlefield—barely held together, eyes wide with the haunting shock of what they'd just escaped.
The room was packed—workers huddled in corners, some whispering, others staring at the sealed doors. Fear hung thick in the air like smoke.
David and Isabella rushed forward, with Benny close behind.
"Theo, you're bleeding!" David exclaimed, voice sharp with panic as he dropped to his knees beside him.
Dawn clutched his arm tightly. "Bella, please… help him. He's hurt bad."
Theo let out a ragged breath, trying to stand on his own. "It's fine. Just a scratch…" he muttered, but the tremble in his voice gave him away.
Isabella was already beside him. "Off with the shirt," she said firmly. "Let me see."
Theo hesitated, then winced as he peeled the fabric away from his back. The shirt came off with a sickly schlep, threads torn, and blood sticking like glue.
Three jagged claw marks ran diagonally across his back—deep, raw, and oozing. The skin around them was swollen, torn in places down to the muscle.
The slashes crossed his shoulder blade, running along his ribs before vanishing below his waistband. Blood welled up with each movement, trailing in thick, crimson lines.
Isabella uncorked a small vial from her pouch. The water inside shimmered like starlight trapped in glass. With a flick of her fingers, the liquid flowed into the air and formed ribbons of glowing fluid.
She pressed the fluid to his wounds. The effect was immediate—light curled over his back, seeping into the torn flesh. Theo gritted his teeth, breathing through the pain as the healing water worked its way into every broken nerve.
Isabella kept her voice low. "So. What did that to you?"
"Some kind of monster… got in through one of the doors. It had black fur. Red glowing eyes. Huge claws."
Isabella's hand froze—just for a second.
Dawn stepped in, her voice still shaking. "They had fangs, too. And they were smart. Organized. They used Dyna—fire and wind. It wasn't random."
Isabella's jaw tightened. "They were using Dyna? Are you sure?"
Theo nodded grimly. "Yeah, we're sure… and some of the workers… didn't make it."
Benny stepped closer, his face etched with grief.
"We're sorry," Dawn whispered, guilt thick in her tone.
Benny shook his head slowly. "The ones you saved already told me everything. You two… thank you. For trying. For fighting."
Theo lowered his gaze. He didn't feel like a hero.
For a few seconds, no one spoke. They just listened—to the creak of the fortress, the faint sound of the wailing alarms, the distant echo of war beyond the walls.
Yet even in the stillness, their presence together offered a flicker of comfort.
Then—BOOM.
The wall trembled.
A muffled explosion rippled from deep within the fortress. Dust trickled from the ceiling.
Curtis spun toward the sound. "What the hell was that?"
"Explosion," Clarissa whispered, gripping the edge of the bench. "That came from inside."
"Hey, Theo, don't move," Isabella said. Her hand made one last sweep across Theo's back, sealing the wounds.
The skin glowed faintly before fading, leaving behind three angry scars.
She handed him his torn shirt. "You're good now—but no hero stunts for right now. Sit tight."
Before she could say more—
"Hey! Curtis! Pentadraig! You guys need to see this!" Bryce's voice rang from the far window.
Arthur jogged over, then stopped cold.
"…What in the world is that."
Outside, the night was burning.
The sky blazed with color—deep reds, burning orange, the flicker of a thousand trees going up in flames. At the heart of it all, a tornado of fire tore across the forest like a summoned demon.
"Aeda! Look!" Aida pointed. "It's like a tornado made of fire!"
The entire room gravitated toward the windows.
Even Isabella approached, eyes wide.
"A tornado made of fire?" she murmured. The swirling inferno devoured everything in its path. "For them to use that move... What the hell are we fighting…?"
Behind them, mutters rose like smoke.
"Why is this happening?"
"Did we anger the Section Commander?"
"No… this is because of the outsiders. This is punishment."
Another explosion rocked the floor. Light fixtures swayed overhead. A few workers screamed.
"Everyone, stay calm!" Benny shouted, raising his voice. "Don't make assumptions—we don't know what's happening yet."
But another tremor rolled through the foundation. Cracks began forming along the upper walls.
David stepped close to Isabella. "We can't stay here. This place is falling apart."
"Wait," Isabella whispered, holding up a hand.
Silence.
Then—
Footsteps.
Heavy. Uneven. Accompanied by low, wet growls.
Aida whimpered and pressed against Aeda. Isabella reached for the vials at her belt. Water slipped out of them, swirling up her arm and into the shape of a whip.
BAM!
Something struck the door.
The sound wasn't a knock—it was a battering ram.
The room froze. Not a breath. Not a whisper.
Another explosion cracked from elsewhere in the fortress.
Then, silence again.
Whatever was outside the door… stepped away.
Benny pressed his ear to the steel.
"They're… moving away," he said carefully.
A wave of relief swept the room.
But Isabella didn't relax.
She turned slightly, one hand rising to her ear.
A breeze brushed past her cheek—gentle. Intentional, and into her ear.
Her eyes narrowed.
"...Nozomu," she muttered. Then, louder: "Recruits. I just received word from Commander Nozomu."
Everyone looked her way.
"There are approximately one hundred of these creatures. They're said to be called Devils. At least thirty are confirmed heading here. But… based on what Theo and Dawn encountered…"
Her eyes swept the room.
"They have already made their way inside."
And for the first time, the room truly fell silent.
No screams.
No questions.
Only breath held in collective dread.
"…The fortress won't hold much longer," Isabella said quietly.
Meanwhile—miles away above the blaze—Nozomu and Pop soared through smoke-stained skies, their bodies framed by the dying light of the firenado below.
The tornado of flame sputtered, its once-majestic roar now crackling like fading embers.
"...It's almost out of Dyna," Nozomu said as his boots touched down in a wide clearing.
The grass beneath him smoking from the wildfire's edge.
The air was thick with heat and ash, the faint crackle of dying flames licking at the tree line. Charred leaves drifted down like black snow. Above, the firenado twisted slower, flickering like a candle nearing its end.
Nozomu straightened, his cloak settling around him in the smoke-filled breeze.
His eyes were forward. Mind sharp.
The battle wasn't over.
Not yet.
Pop landed hard beside him, boots scraping ash off the treetops. Sweat poured down his temple.
His shirt was in tatters, slashed by claws, and burnt at the edges.
"...How many do you think are left?" he managed to ask, his voice hoarse.
Nozomu didn't hesitate. "About half. Maybe a little less."
He watched the forest floor, where glowing red eyes stirred again in the darkness. "They recover too fast."
Pop sighed. "Half… still?"
His Dyna reserves were nearly empty. His arms ached. And yet—those things just kept coming.
"...Can we even win this?" Pop asked.
A beat passed.
Then Nozomu turned.
His eyes weren't panicked.
They were calm.
Clear.
Focused.
"Yes."
The wind answered him, curling around his blade in swirling arcs.
"We just have to hold out a little longer."
Pop looked at him. And for a second—just a second—that fear melted away.
His fingers curled tight around the hilt of his sword. The embers danced in his reflection.
"Then let's hold the line," Pop said, fire returning to his voice. "No matter what."
Back inside the Iron Fortress—
Benny emerged from a side room connected to the main hall, flanked by several of his workers.
Their arms were full—stacked high with reinforced shields, their surfaces engraved with faint etchings that shimmered under the red emergency lights.
The recruits gathered fast, forming a half-circle around the table. Isabella stood at the front, her hair clinging to her face, eyes fierce.
"We don't have time," she said, cutting through the tension. "If we stay here, we die. Either to the Devils… or when this place comes crashing down on our heads."
A heavy silence gripped the room.
But Benny stepped forward, resting one of the heavy shields against the table with a dull clang.
"Listen up!" he called out, his voice solid like iron. "These shields were made to handle Dyna. Heat, wind, pressure. They'll buy us time out there. Long enough to get people to safety."
Isabella nodded. "We'll divide into two teams. One group will escort the workers out of here. The other will stay on me—form a shield wall while I fight."
Her gaze swept across the recruits. No one flinched.
"Marco!" Benny barked.
A tall, slender teen stepped forward. Marco's hands trembled, but his jaw was set.
"You know the outside terrain better than anyone. You'll lead the evacuation. Get everyone somewhere safe. Away from the fire. Away from those monsters."
Marco hesitated. "I… I'll try..."
"No." Benny stepped up, placing a hand firmly on the boy's shoulder. "Don't try. Do. I'm trusting you."
Marco took a breath.
"Then I'll do my best."
But before the plan could settle—
"Benny! Benny!"
A woman shoved through the crowd, panic carved across her tear-streaked face.
Benny moved to steady her. "Easy. What's wrong?"
"It's Mera… she was right beside me. I looked away for a second, and now—she's gone."
Gone.
The word sliced through the air like a blade.
Benny turned sharply. "Gone? Has anyone seen Mera!? Anyone!?"
Dozens of eyes looked around. Heads shook. The room buzzed with murmurs—but no answers.
Then—
A gentle tug at Marco's shirt.
He looked down.
A little girl, Faye, stood there, small and pale, her eyes wide. A boy, Colt, stood at her side, clutching her hand tightly.
"Marco…" she whispered.
He knelt, lowering himself to her level. "Yes, Faye?"
She glanced at Colt, then back again. Her voice trembled.
"We… we know where Mera is…"
And just like that—
The room froze.
Every head turned toward the two children.
Breath held.
Waiting.
For whatever they said next.