[Outside — Battlefield]
The earth trembled. The sky had turned a deep crimson.
Scarlet's glaive hovered behind her, rotating slowly in a circle of glowing runes, pulsating with an ancient, cursed rhythm.
Her eyes… no longer hers. Glowing with molten ruby, empty of reason.
Each breath she took was like a bell tolling for death.
Her hair — once a gentle scarlet — now whipped in the wind like threads of blood. Her armor had reshaped into jagged crimson plates, crawling with runic veins that bled slow streams of blackened ichor. A horned crown had begun to form around her temple.
This was no longer Scarlet.
This was War itself.
And yet… somewhere inside—
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[Inside — The Well of Consciousness]
"Stop… please… stop…"
A frail voice echoed inside a deep, suffocating void.
Scarlet — the real Scarlet — sat curled in the bottom of a black well, water rising slowly around her. Her reflection was twisted. Her armor — shattered. Her voice — raw.
She could see through her own eyes… and yet could not move.
"No... not like this… I don't want to kill like this…"
The voice of the War Maiden echoed back, not from above, but from within her skull — cruel, ancient, and thunderous.
"You gave me the glaive. You gave me your heart. You wished for strength. This is the cost."
Tears mixed with the water.
Scarlet remembered laughing once. She remembered Nova's hand. Her village. Mira's cooking. She remembered what love tasted like.
And now she watched herself rip men apart, bodies flying like shredded cloth, children running in terror.
"Please let me go back. Let me feel the wind again…"
"You are wind. You are flame. You are death. Accept it."
Scarlet screamed, but the sound only echoed within the well — unheard, drowned by the chorus of war above.
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[Outside — The Battlefield]
Soldiers dropped to their knees in surrender, not to mercy — but to horror.
Some begged to be killed quickly, unwilling to witness what came next.
She had no restraint left.
With a wave of her hand, an entire platoon was crushed under a spiraling dome of crimson gravity.
Flames erupted not from the ground, but from within bones.
Nova watched her from afar, eyes filled with dread.
This was not his Scarlet.
And in that moment, something had to be done.
He clenched his fists, summoning his own divine weapon, one not of violence — but memory.
Because somewhere in that burning storm…
The real Scarlet was still screaming.
Nova knew what he had to do.
His hands, still stained with blood and dust, formed the familiar motion.
The system flickered before his eyes.
[System: Skill Activated — Blitz Time Stop]
[System: Interstell Dome — Isolated Area: 10 meters]
The air shimmered.
Suddenly, everything froze. The wind halted. The dying screams silenced. Flaming embers paused in midair.
Only Nova and Scarlet moved.
He stood in front of her, heart pounding. Her glaive was half-raised, frozen in a path that would have struck down even the strongest warrior. Her lips twisted in a cruel smile not her own. Her eyes — glowing, empty, alien.
[System: You have 5 minutes]
Nova whispered, "Forgive me."
He stepped forward, placed both hands on her cheeks — and closed his eyes.
Inside — Scarlet's Mindscape
He was falling.
Then drowning.
Then… silence.
He opened his eyes to a black, endless ocean. No sky. No stars. Just water that shimmered with memories. Pain. Sorrow.
"Scarlet!" he shouted.
Nothing.
Then— a sound. A faint sob.
He ran, feet slapping across a shimmering bridge of light that formed beneath each step.
And there she was.
Scarlet… the real Scarlet, curled up at the bottom of a spiraling abyss, her form pale, shivering, chained in vines of blood and shadow. Her hair was soaked. Her eyes wide with confusion and despair.
"Nova…?" she whispered, broken.
He leapt down, landing hard, kneeling beside her.
Without hesitation, he wrapped her in his arms.
"You're here…" she cried, clutching him as if he might vanish.
"I'm not leaving without you," he whispered, his voice cracking.
Above — The War Maiden's Voice
"You dare trespass?" the bloody consciousness boomed.
"You think love can overcome rage?"
Nova stood, holding Scarlet's hand tightly. He looked up into the storm.
"No," he said, voice steady. "But love is not soft. Love is the blade you don't see coming."
He raised his hand — and his soul flared, a radiant golden blaze.
[System: Soul Link Activated]
His light engulfed Scarlet. The chains screamed and burned.
She clutched her head, eyes squeezed shut.
"It hurts…!"
"You can do this," he whispered. "Remember who you are. Remember us. The garden… your promise… our night under the stars. Come back to me, Scarlet."
A sudden wind blew. The vines broke.
Scarlet gasped.
And then she stood. Not as the War Maiden. Not as a puppet.
But as Scarlet.
[Outside — Dome Interior]
Time resumed.
The War Maiden staggered back — her weapon slipping from her grasp. Her eyes flickered — molten ruby dimming.
Scarlet collapsed into Nova's arms, body trembling, voice hoarse.
"...Nova… I'm back…"
He held her tighter than he ever had before.
"You came back to me," he whispered, pressing his forehead to hers.
She nodded weakly. "I could hear your voice… even in the dark."
And as the dome faded, as time returned to its cruel pace, Nova stood with Scarlet in his arms.
A new fury ignited in his gaze — not of rage, but of resolve.
They tried to take her away.
They nearly broke her.
But now… they would pay.
The battlefield lay still.
What once roared with fire, steel, and magic was now blanketed in a haunting quiet. The sun had emerged from behind a curtain of black smoke, casting golden light upon blood-streaked earth and shattered stones.
The banners of Fenrir and Hebre, once fluttering proudly, now lay torn and trampled. Weapons were abandoned, helmets cast aside. The scent of ash and magic still lingered in the air, but it no longer suffocated.
At the heart of it all stood Nova, holding Scarlet in his arms.
She breathed softly, the storm within her now sealed — the Bloody War Maiden returned to slumber deep within her soul.
Around them, hundreds of soldiers—both Thelaran and enemy—watched in silence.
Some dropped to their knees.
Others held their breath.
Many dared not even blink.
They had witnessed something… unholy. Something divine.
Scarlet's final transformation, her eyes glowing like twin suns of blood, her voice layered with ancient rage, her weapon—a glaive that had sliced through steel and magic alike—had become a myth in motion.
Seven of the continent's deadliest assassins, all trained in secret arts, empowered by centuries of knowledge, had been annihilated.
Not killed. Not defeated.
Erased.
One soldier, barely older than a boy, murmured, "She wasn't human."
Another whispered, "That was a Goddess… born of wrath."
Even among Nova's own commanders—Kael, Mira, Gerren—there was a shift. Not of loyalty, but reverence.
Kael clenched his fist, whispering to no one, "What did they awaken…?"
Mira wiped silent tears from her cheek. "They thought to destroy us… and instead unleashed her."
The Fenrir and Hebre survivors—what few remained—dropped their weapons. Not a single one dared run. Not because they feared being chased…
…but because there was nowhere safe left to run.
The ground where Scarlet stood still smoked, the air thick with aftershocks of her rage. Her war staff, once glowing red, now stood plunged into the ground beside her, its edge still dripping, its core humming quietly.
Nova raised his hand.
"Bring the survivors. Treat the wounded. No more blood today."
There was no cheer. No celebration. Just movement.
They obeyed without question.
Not just because of his title.
Not just because of his power.
But because… he had walked through the gates of hell to pull her back.
And that, they would never forget,
"Let's meet your father, scarlet...