The Holy City burned—not in flame, but in meaning.

  The shattered gate stood as proof that what had been believed eternal was, in truth, breakable. Stone lay cracked like bone. Iron bent inward as if forced to kneel. Smoke drifted lazily through the breach, carrying with it the stench of scorched magic, blood, and shattered faith.

  For the first time since its founding, the Vatican’s sanctity had been violated.

  Elric Callus did not look at the ruined wall for long.

  He turned sharply, his presence commanding even amid the chaos, and fixed his gaze on the man standing closest to him.

  “Sarville.”

  General Sarville Callus straightened instantly, every trace of hesitation erased.

  “You will take command of the outer battlefield,” Elric ordered. “Stabilize the lines. Regroup our forces. Handle the remaining resistance at the outer city.”

  Sarville slammed his fist to his chest. “Understood, my Lord.”

  “Once the gate is secured,” Elric continued, “proceed with the second wave until either victory or concede. Do not allow disorder to spread and interfere with our plan.”

  Sarville turned, already shouting orders as he moved, his voice cutting through the battlefield like steel.

  As he departed, Mereth Covenus lifted her greatsword.

  She did not raise her voice, yet it carried effortlessly, weaving through clashing steel and dying cries.

  “Heirs,” she said calmly. “Proceed as arranged.”

  Eslene and Lucien exchanged a glance—brief, resolute—before breaking away together. Their forces shifted around them instinctively, forming a spearhead aimed directly into the city.

  “Second team,” Mereth continued, her eyes already moving. “Seraphine. Varain. Do what you must.”

  Seraphine inclined her head once, eyes cold and calculating as she scanned the breach and the streets beyond. Varain rolled his shoulders, shadows gathering faintly around his boots as he fell into step beside her.

  Kazane turned his gaze eastward.

  “Arame.”

  Arame stepped forward without a word.

  “You will stay with them,” Kazane said, nodding toward the silent figures already advancing.

  The Seven Swordsmen of the East did not speak. Black cloaks fluttered as they moved, veils hiding their faces, blades already in hand. One of them inclined his head toward Arame before continuing onward.

  Orders flowed. Formations shifted.

  The Cross Coalition advanced.

  With the gate breached, the fall of the Holy City was no longer a question of if—only when.

  Yet not all within the Vatican had surrendered to despair.

  High upon the ruined wall, Holy Knight Vesta remained standing.

  Around her, soldiers faltered. Some stared blankly at the devastation below, hands shaking as their faith wavered. Others fell to their knees, shields slipping from numb fingers. Whispers of defeat spread like rot through the ranks.

  But Vesta did not kneel.

  Her grip tightened around her blade until her knuckles whitened.

  “Tchh…”

  She spat blood onto the stone.

  “The city will not fall,” she snarled, “for as long as I live and breathe!”

  Before anyone could react, she leapt.

  She descended like a meteor.

  The impact shattered stone beneath her feet, a violent shockwave rippling outward. Dust and debris erupted skyward as the ground cratered, sending soldiers stumbling.

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  Zero and Castiel both turned sharply.

  And Vesta charged toward them.

  Her blade ignited with blinding holy radiance as she surged forward with everything she had, voice tearing through the battlefield.

  “ZERO!!!”

  Castiel moved first.

  He flashed into the path to intercept her, barrier snapping into existence as he planted himself between her and Zero.

  “Vesta!” Castiel shouted. “Stand down! This war is already decided! Don’t shed any more blood than necessary!”

  Her answer was brute force.

  Vesta smashed through his guard, the sheer weight of her strike shattering his barrier and hurling him aside.

  “Screw off!!” she screamed. “Even if I fall, I’ll drag you two down with me!”

  She swung at Zero.

  He dodged—effortlessly.

  Again.

  Again.

  Her strikes came faster, wilder, each fueled by rage and betrayal. Yet Zero moved as though he had already seen them all, stepping aside with minimal motion, expression unreadable.

  “Why?!” Vesta screamed between ragged breaths. “Why would you betray us?! We idolized you! Trusted you!”

  She attacked again and again, until her arms trembled, until sweat streamed down her face and her breath burned in her chest.

  With a final cry, she swung—

  Zero caught her blade with his bare hand.

  The impact rang through the air.

  But her strength was gone.

  She sagged forward, chest heaving, blade trembling in Zero’s grip.

  “You were everything I strived to be…” she whispered.

  “Because I looked up to you.”

  Only then did she see it.

  The sadness in Zero’s eyes.

  He released her blade.

  For a long moment, he said nothing.

  Then, quietly, “I had no excuses… I was just like you.”

  Memory surged.

  The shadow prison shattering as it releases him from the dark prison. Draculius standing over him. Kevlar explaining everything that had transpire while he was kept captured. Castiel and Emilia—alive, standing among the enemy even testify for Kevlar.

  Zero’s was in denial. His anger. His refusal. His loss of a brother.

  And then the realization—slow, agonizing.

  That he had been nothing more than a disposable tool.

  The memory faded.

  Zero looked at Vesta again.

  “Vesta… I can’t explain everything,” he said softly. “Some truths must be seen with your own eyes.”

  “What truth?” she demanded weakly.

  He gestured around them.

  “Look around you. How much blood must be spilled before loyalty becomes meaningless? What crusade? What purpose?”

  His voice hardened.

  “Where is our Saint? Where is he while his knights die for him? Did you see him standing beside you when the war began? Did he give you strength Did he preach for you as always?”

  He grabbed her arm.

  “Wake up, Vesta. Look at what truly matters!”

  Her voice trembled. “Matters…?”

  “Yes,” Zero said. “Stopping this war. Ending needless sacrifice.”

  “But… you’re the invaders.” said Vesta.

  “Yes,” Zero admitted. “But would you have opened the gate if we asked?”

  She had no answer.

  “No one in their right mind would do so to an enemy, it common sense.”

  “Our goal was to breach the defenses and evacuate the civilians,” Zero continued. “Once they’re safe, the war ends.”

  “The Citizen? They’re already safe,” Vesta insisted. “Sheltered.”

  Zero’s gut twisted.

  “Sheltered… where?”

  “Portals,” she said. “Created by Saint Fariel. He said they lead to a safe sanctuary.”

  Zero clutched his head. “Dammit…”

  He stared toward the city.

  “I hope those kids find them in time.”

  Then he knelt in front of Vesta

  “I know I have no right to ask of this—but please. Help us stop this war.”

  “If you give the order, we will cease fire immediately... You have my word.”

  Vesta looked around.

  Dead soldiers.

  Wounded men begging.

  Eyes frozen in regret.

  Her faith cracked.

  With what strength remained, she screamed—

  “Soldiers of the Vatican!! Cease your weapons!!”

  The battlefield froze.

  “Our wall has fallen,” she said, voice breaking. “This is our defeat.”

  “So please… stop. I do not wish for more blood to be shed.”

  Protests rose. Some remarking to fight to the death. Some question their safety should they concede.

  She silenced them.

  “QUIET!”

  “Fight to the death? Then what?! Who will remains to protects your family?! Who will mourns for you?!”

  “For once in your life! THINK FOR YOURSELF!!”

  Silence fell as her word echoes across.

  Weapons dropped.

  One by one, clatter throughout the field.

  Zero raised his arm in signal.

  Sarville echoed the command.

  “Cross Coalition! Cease fire! Victory is ours!”

  Cheers erupted.

  Kevlar watched from afar and smiled.

  Lilith stepped beside him. “Seems like it worked as you planned… although I doubted trusting Zero.”

  Kevlar exhaled. “It was a gamble. A second chance.” as Lilith smile back.

  He turned toward the Citadel.

  “Let’s go. We still have a war to end.”

  As Kevlar and the attack party reaches the Citadel, it gates creaked open with a light pull.

  Inside, darkness waited.

  Kevlar stepped forward, eyes locked ahead.

  At the far end of the hall—

  A throne and an empty quiet space.

  And upon it, a presence.

  “Lumiel…” Kevlar muttered.

  Light surged. The hall brightened violently.

  Lumiel rose from the throne, golden eyes gleaming.

  “Shadowborn,” he said, smiling. “Our last meeting was… unpleasant. Pardon me, but i was not myself then.”

  “So this time, let me indulge you properly” he added with a wide smile.

  Suddenly, Seven Archangels descended, surrounding them.

  Kazane cursed softly. “Ah Shit...so we have to deal with eight of them…”

  “I was hoping we did be done by dealing with just one.”

  Mereth’s expression darkened. “I’ve never felt mana this dense.”

  Kevlar spoke calmly. “Like i told you, they wear it like skin.”

  “A layer of dense mana that act as a defensive barrier and also an augmented offense.”

  “So you need to find a way to either overpower that barrier, or break it law of existence”.

  Kazane asked “The law of what?”

  Kevlar answer “A way to break it by breaking the law of physic”.

  Kazane sighed “That make even more less sense, but i will figure something along the way... thanks”.

  Lumiel gestured. “Omael. Ramiel. Stay with us.”

  Lilith look at Kevlar in worry. Kevlar look back and assured her “Go, I will be fine.”

  As the others Archangel casted a spatial portal to teleport away—each taking their chosen opponents with them.

  Kevlar remained alone with Lumiel, Omael, and Ramiel in the grand hall.

  “What makes you think that three of you are enough?” Kevlar asked.

  Lumiel smiled.

  “You overestimate yourself Shadowborn...unlike him, you are not that strong yet.”

  Kevlar’s eyes hardened.

  “I wouldn’t be so sure.” As violet flame start surging and envelope his body.