Quas Blood

Part 1 – The War Begins

The Forces of War – Three Armies Prepare

Across Mezolith, war was fully set into motion. In the coming hours, blood would soak the streets, banners would burn, and the fate of Woodsaw would be rewritten.

Three major forces now stood poised for battle, each with their own ambitions, each prepared to carve their legacy into history.

Jeffrey Maxim's Forces – The Defenders of Yore

10,000 soldiers composed of trained warriors, city guards, and loyalist militias.The Royal Guard reinforcements had yet to arrive. Until then, Yore stood alone.Their fortifications were strong, but their numbers were far fewer than their enemies.

The Children of Woodsaw – The Revolution's Might

18,000 revolutionaries, some trained, but most were desperate civilians turned warriors.Led by Carous Gelheim, with his top commanders Daniel Gustav (Tank Class, Hand of God: King's Presence, AWL – B Gold) and Dante Viel (Spear Fighter, Hand of God: Time Manipulation, AWL – B Gold, stationed at the fort).They marched under banners of rebellion, eager to burn the old world and build anew.

The Resistance in the Squatters' District

55 civilians turned fighters, led by Roland Vask and the Grimknights.Poorly equipped, most wielding makeshift weapons, they stood against impossible odds.Their goal: Strike the revolutionaries' fort while Carous' main army marched to Yore.The Revolutionaries Begin Their March – Carous' War Speech

The dawn air was thick with the sound of boots marching in unison. The Children of Woodsaw, an army of thousands, moved like a single body, banners of revolution waving high above their heads. The city of Yore stood ahead of them, its towering walls lined with archers and defenders.

At the center of the revolutionary army, Carous Gelheim rode atop a warhorse, his presence undeniable. He stopped, turning to face his men.

"Brothers! Sisters!" His voice echoed over the battlefield. "We were born in the fires of oppression! For years, we have lived in chains, our homes stolen, our voices silenced!"

The army roared in agreement, their spirits burning with righteous fury.

"Today!" Carous continued. "We burn down those chains! We take back what is ours! The streets of Yore will belong to the people once more!"

He lifted his sword high, the sun reflecting off the blade like fire.

"ONWARD!"

The earth trembled beneath their charge.

The Resistance Makes Their Move

Far from the battlefield at Yore, Roland Vask and his 55 resistance fighters slipped through the ruins of the Squatters' District. They moved in silence, guided by moonlight and desperation.

The Grimknights were spread throughout the resistance force, each leading small squads.

Henry walked at the front, his tower shield on his back. "Stay close. Stay low. We hit hard and fast," he whispered.

Espada grinned, drawing her scimitar. "Let's hope they're asleep when we get there."

Elric clenched his flail, scanning their surroundings. "They won't be."

Bjorn remained silent as always, but his axes gleamed, eager for battle.

Kaiser, walking beside Henry, kept his head low. The name Dante Viel still echoed in his mind.

As they approached the fort, Roland raised his hand. "There it is."

The fortress loomed in the distance, dark and still. If they moved fast, they could breach the walls before the enemy even noticed.

Or so they thought.

Jeffrey Maxim Prepares His City for War

Back in Yore, Jeffrey Maxim stood before his assembled army. The city gates were shut, barricades reinforced, archers positioned on every tower. They were outnumbered, but they had the advantage of defense.

Maxim's voice rang clear:

"We do not fight for ambition. We do not fight for power. We fight for our families, our homes, and the legacy of Woodsaw!"

The army responded with a cheer, but beneath the bravado, many knew the truth—this would be a battle of survival.

Jeffrey turned to Commander Enzo and the other leaders of Yore's forces.

"Are the Royal Guard reinforcements on the way?" he asked.

Enzo hesitated. "No word yet, my lord."

Jeffrey sighed but nodded. Then we fight alone.

The Revolutionaries Inside Yore Are Captured

While Yore's forces prepared for battle, the last of the revolutionaries hiding within the city were rounded up.

Dozens of traitors were dragged through the streets, weapons confiscated, wrists bound.

By the time the battle outside the city began, the revolution's ability to sabotage from within had been completely eliminated.

For now, the city was secure.

The Army on the Horizon

Then came the first true moment of fear.

A lookout on Yore's tallest tower sounded the alarm.

The soldiers on the walls rushed forward, looking out toward the horizon.

A thick mist of dust rolled over the land, filling the skyline. It wasn't a storm.

It was Carous Gelheim's army.

Like an endless wave, 18,000 revolutionaries approached the city gates.

The defenders tightened their grips on their weapons. The moment had arrived.

The Final War Speech – "Charge!"

Carous rode ahead of his men, standing tall in the saddle. He took one last look at Yore.

Then he lifted his sword and roared:

"NO MORE WAITING! NO MORE SUFFERING! TAKE YORE AND MAKE IT OURS! CHARGE!"

The army surged forward, their battle cries shaking the very ground beneath them.

The siege of Yore had begun.

The Resistance's Attack on the Fort

Meanwhile, back in the Squatters' District, Roland and his warriors crept closer to the revolutionaries' fortress.

Henry raised his hand. "Steady. We breach the gate in three… two…"

Then—the unthinkable happened.

The gates suddenly swung open.

The resistance fighters froze in confusion.

A single figure stood waiting.

Dante Viel – The Trap is Sprung

Laughter echoed from the entrance.

Standing in the gateway, calm and grinning, was Dante Viel.

His spear rested casually over his shoulder. His posture was relaxed, but his eyes gleamed with dangerous amusement.

"Oh?" he said, chuckling. "You thought you could take us by surprise?"

Henry's grip tightened on his shield. "Damn it… It's a trap!"

Dante grinned wider.

"No, no…" He spun his spear once in his hands. "We've been expecting you."

Behind him, shadows moved. More revolutionaries. Fully armed. Prepared.

Roland cursed under his breath. "Hold your ground! Form up!"

Dante sighed, shaking his head. "Hold your ground?"

Then, in an instant, his entire body flickered—vanishing for a split second.

When he reappeared, he was already in the middle of the resistance forces.

"Too late," he whispered.

Then, Dante Viel attacked.

The Siege of Yore had begun.And in the Squatters' District, the true battle was just starting.

Part 2 – The Resistance's Last StandT

he Siege of Yore – Brutal Combat on the Battlefield

The battlefield outside Yore had become a living nightmare. Carous Gelheim's army of 18,000 revolutionaries crashed against the city's defenses like a relentless tidal wave, their war cries shaking the very ground beneath them.

Yore's defenders, only 10,000 strong, held their ground behind the fortified walls. Arrows rained down from the towers, piercing the first wave of revolutionaries. Many collapsed before they even reached the walls, but their comrades simply climbed over their fallen, pushing forward with siege ladders and battering rams.

The city guards poured boiling oil over the ladders, screams of burning revolutionaries filling the air. Flaming arrows ignited the siege weapons, turning wooden rams into infernos.

A massive explosion shook the eastern side of the wall, blasting a section of stone into rubble. The revolutionaries rushed into the opening, pouring through the breach.

In the lower districts, the fighting had already become desperate hand-to-hand combat. Revolutionaries hacked through the first line of defenders, taking several streets, but the loyalists formed shield walls, pushing back with brutal counterattacks.

The streets ran red with blood, and yet neither side was willing to retreat.

The Revolutionaries Advance – A Fight of Attrition

Jeffrey Maxim's soldiers formed defensive lines in the marketplace, holding off an advancing revolutionary battalion.

A broad-shouldered warrior wielding a great axe charged toward them, roaring a battle cry.

"FOR WOODSAW!" he bellowed, swinging his axe and splitting a loyalist soldier in two.

The city guards held their ground, stabbing forward with spears, trying to hold the front line. The revolutionaries continued to charge, throwing themselves at the defenders in blind fury.

Amidst the chaos, the banner of the revolution still flew high, unburnt, unwavering.

Carous Gelheim stood atop a hill overlooking the battlefield, watching as his forces gained ground.

He smirked. "They are breaking."

But inside the city, the defenders still fought on. They knew that if Yore fell, all of Woodsaw would follow.

The Resistance's Assault on the Fort – Dante Lands in the Middle of Battle

Far from Yore, in the Squatters' District, Roland Vask and the Grimknights led the resistance in their attack on the Revolutionary Fort.

The fort stood like a black monolith, its towering wooden walls reinforced with steel plates. The plan was simple—strike fast, breach the gates, and wipe out the remaining revolutionaries.

As the resistance warriors charged forward, the massive wooden gates suddenly swung open.

A sharp wave of confusion spread through the resistance ranks. This wasn't how it was supposed to go.

Then laughter rang out.

From the shadows of the entrance, a lone figure stepped forward, his spear resting casually over his shoulder.

Dante Viel.

He smirked, tilting his head. "Oh? You thought you could take us by surprise?"

Henry gritted his teeth, gripping his tower shield. "Damn it… It's a trap!"

Dante vanished.

In a blink, he reappeared in the center of the resistance force.

The air went still for a moment, then—

"Kill them all."

The revolutionaries charged forward from the shadows, weapons drawn.

Elric vs. Dante – A Duel of Strength and Skill

Elric Smith was the closest to Dante.

Before the revolutionary commander could strike, Elric raised his arm.

"NESSIE!"

A deep, guttural roar echoed as a massive, spectral shape materialized behind him.

A creature serpentine in form, its scales rippling like flowing water, rose from the mist. Its emerald eyes locked onto Dante, radiating raw power.

Dante merely smirked. "A water spirit? Let's see how long it lasts."

Elric swung his flail, sending spiked metal hurtling toward Dante. The revolutionary commander sidestepped, flickering out of the way in an instant.

Nessie's body lashed forward like a tidal wave, but Dante flickered again, reappearing behind Elric.

"Too slow."

His spear thrust forward, forcing Elric to barely block with his mace.

The ground shook from their clash. The resistance warriors stayed back, too afraid to interfere.

Slowly, Dante began to gain the upper hand.

Espada Joins the Fight – A Two-on-One Battle

As Dante twisted his spear, nearly breaking through Elric's defense, another blade flashed.

Espada Harmony appeared beside them, her scimitar blocking Dante's attack.

She grinned, wiping sweat from her brow. "Hope you don't mind a little backup, Elric."

Dante chuckled, stepping back. "Two against one? Maybe this will be fun after all."

Elric regained his footing, gripping his mace. "Let's take him together."

The two Grimknights attacked in perfect rhythm—Elric swung with brute force while Espada struck with quick, precise cuts.

But Dante was still faster.

He dodged, blocked, and flickered away at just the right moments, making it nearly impossible for them to land a clean hit.

Roland's Last Stand – The Archer Division Falls

Meanwhile, Roland Vask and his best fighters stormed the revolutionaries' archer division.

They cut down dozens of long-range attackers, but five elite revolutionary fighters broke through their ranks.

Roland fought fiercely, his warhammer crushing one enemy's ribs, then another's skull.

But eventually, he was surrounded.

A sword pierced his side, then another slashed deep across his chest.

Roland collapsed onto one knee, blood spilling onto the dirt.

The five revolutionaries closed in for the final blow.

Gregory's Return – A Warrior's Choice

Before the killing strike landed, a mace smashed into one of the revolutionaries' heads, sending him flying.

Gregory Malter had arrived.

He swung his weapon mercilessly, crushing another fighter's ribs with a single blow.

One of the remaining revolutionaries staggered back in shock.

"Gregory?! I thought you fought for us!"

Gregory gave him a smirk, gripping his mace tightly.

"I fight for who I damn well choose."

Then he hammered the man into the dirt.

Roland's Final Words – "Win My War"

Gregory rushed to Roland's side, kneeling beside him.

Roland's breath was shallow, his chest rising and falling weakly. Blood pooled beneath him.

Gregory pressed a hand to his wound. "Stay with me, old man."

Roland grinned weakly. "Not much left in me, son."

His hand grasped Gregory's arm, pulling him close.

His voice was hoarse but firm. "Win my war."

And with that, Roland Vask, leader of the resistance, fell.

Kaiser's Mission – The Infiltration Begins

As Roland breathed his last, the battle raged on.

But away from the battlefield, inside the fortress walls, Kaiser Reiss moved through the dark corridors.

Alzalel, his spectral entity, floated beside him, its ghostly form flickering in the dim torchlight.

His task was clear: Rescue the girl.

He tightened his grip on his dagger.

The war outside was reaching its climax.

And inside the fort, Kaiser was walking straight into the unknown.

The Siege of Yore raged on.

The resistance was struggling.

Dante Viel was still undefeated.

And Kaiser Reiss had begun his true mission.

Part 3 – The Struggles That Led to War

The Tragedy That Led Carous to Revolt

The fires of war had been burning for years, but for Carous Gelheim, they had started long before this revolution.

Once, he had been a simple man, a father, a husband—nothing more. He had worked tirelessly in the Squatters' District, doing whatever labor he could to provide for his family. The dream was simple: a peaceful life, food on the table, and a future for his son.

But Mezolith was not kind to men like him.

His wife had fallen ill—a fever that wouldn't break. Desperate, Carous carried her for miles to New Yore, where the well-trained doctors resided. He banged on the doors of the clinics, pleaded in the streets, offered every coin he had saved over the years.

They turned him away.

They called him "a squatter," "a waste of medicine."

That same night, she died in his arms.

A few years later, during a clash between the army and local rebels, his young son—only six years old—was caught in the crossfire. The child had simply been playing outside when an explosive detonated nearby, sending jagged shrapnel into his tiny body.

Carous rushed to the military commander on duty, demanding help, screaming for a healer.

But he was told: "Collateral damage."

No justice. No compensation.

Only loss.

That night, Carous burned his own home and swore vengeance. The man who had once dreamed of peace now only dreamed of fire.

And today, he would set Yore ablaze.

The Siege of Yore – Jeffrey's Commanders Hold the Line

The battle had entered its most brutal stage.

The revolutionaries, fueled by rage and numbers, pressed against the city's defenses like an unrelenting tide. The defenders of Yore, though outnumbered, held their ground with sheer discipline and skill.

At the front of the defensive line, Jack McCaw, a towering warrior clad in heavy armor, stood like an unmovable wall.

His great shield slammed into a charging revolutionary, sending him flying backward.

"Push them back!" Jack roared, rallying the soldiers around him.

Not far from him, Ion Dambouldor, a seasoned fighter and leader of the Order of Isus, swung his twin-bladed glaive, cutting down any enemy that made it past Jack's defensive line.

"We hold the ground, no matter what!" he bellowed.

Meanwhile, Enzo, the hidden blade of Yore, worked in the shadows.

An assassin not connected to The Crow, but deadly in his own right.

As a revolutionary commander shouted orders to his troops, Enzo slipped behind him and drove a dagger into his throat.

The man gurgled, collapsing, his soldiers thrown into disarray.

High above the battlefield, Jeffrey Maxim stood in the Palace of Yore, overseeing everything.

"Hold the city," he muttered, knowing that if Yore fell, so did Woodsaw.

Kaiser Infiltrates the Fortress – A Fight in the Dark

The revolutionaries' stronghold in the Squatters' District was not built for subtlety—it was built for war.

Kaiser moved through its corridors, his steps silent, daggers at the ready.

Two guards rounded a corner ahead, chatting in low voices.

In a single breath, Kaiser lunged forward.

His first dagger pierced one of their throats. Before the second could react, Kaiser spun, slashing across his chest.

The man staggered, clutching his wound, then collapsed.

Alzalel's voice whispered in his mind.

"We are getting close."

Kaiser tightened his grip on his weapons and pressed forward.

The Resistance Gains Ground – But Not Without Losses

Despite their limited numbers, the resistance began turning the tide inside the fortress.

Bjorn, lost in his berserker rage, had charged deep into enemy ranks. The resistance warriors that followed him couldn't keep up, terrified that they might get caught in his rampage.

Meanwhile, Gregory Malter dragged Roland's fallen body to safety, swearing to bury him with honor once the battle was over.

The fight was far from won, but they had a chance.

Espada and Elric Struggle Against Dante Viel

Dante Viel had barely broken a sweat.

Elric, despite his strength, couldn't keep up with Dante's speed.

Espada, despite her precision, couldn't land a single clean hit.

And then—Dante finally struck.

His spear pierced through Elric's shoulder, cutting deep.

Elric stumbled back, barely able to keep himself standing.

Espada leaped forward, trying to cover him, but Dante twisted out of the way with ease.

"You're too slow," Dante said, his voice mocking.

Dante Overpowers Espada – A Humiliating Defeat

Espada tried to retreat, realizing she was outmatched.

Dante flashed forward, appearing before her in an instant.

Before she could react—his spear handle slammed into her stomach.

A burst of pain exploded through her body, blood spraying from her lips.

She collapsed to her knees, coughing violently.

Dante laughed.

Dante's Cruel Mockery – Elric's Rage Awakens

Dante grabbed Espada by the hair, dragging her toward Elric's broken body.

"You know, Elric…" he smirked. "Maybe I'll let my men have her once we're done here."

Elric's body tensed.

His fists clenched.

His mind flashed back to the first time he had met Espada—how he had protected her, how she had become his closest friend.

And now, Dante was treating her like a trophy.

Elric's rage finally erupted.

Elric Awakens His Quas Blood – Level 3 Transformation

His eyes glowed a bluish-white.

His body trembled with raw power.

Behind him, Nessie's form shifted, growing larger, more solid.

The spectral entity began merging with him, its presence flowing into his veins.

This was Level 3 Quas Blood—partial fusion with an entity.

His strength tripled. His speed sharpened. His mind burned with battle clarity.

Dante's grin finally faded.

Elric slowly rose, the wounds on his body closing slightly.

The real battle was about to begin.

Kaiser's Mission – The Final Confrontation Begins

Kaiser moved deeper into the fortress.

Then—he saw it.

A barred door at the end of the hall.

Alzalel's voice whispered in his mind.

"We've got company."

A figure stepped from the shadows.

A woman in an elegant red dress.

Her lips curled into a knowing smile.

The air grew unnaturally cold.

"Well now," she said, her voice smooth as silk. "What do we have here?"

Kaiser's grip tightened on his dagger.

The true battle inside the fortress was about to begin.

Part 4 – Blood and Shadows

The Red Witch of Ignareth

The dim torchlight of the fortress corridor flickered as a soft click echoed against the stone walls—long metal nails tapping lazily against the cold surface.

A woman stood before Kaiser, draped in an elegant red dress that seemed to shift unnaturally as if alive. Her eyes, a deep crimson, shimmered with eerie amusement, and her lips curled into a slow smirk.

Her presence radiated something sinister, something ancient.

She tilted her head slightly, observing him with quiet intrigue.

"My, my... what do we have here?"

Kaiser tightened his grip on his daggers, his body tensing. He had fought before—had taken lives, had survived—but this woman felt… different.

She wasn't just strong. She was something else entirely.

"Who are you?" he demanded.

The woman's smirk widened, her voice smooth as silk.

"Oh, a proper introduction? I suppose that's fair."

She lifted her clawed hand, tapping her nails together.

"I am Carmela Vermillion, an operative of Ignareth."

She let the words sink in for a moment before continuing.

"It's rare for me to have conversations with my prey, but I'm in a generous mood. You may ask me a few questions."

She took a slow step forward.

"Not that it matters. You're dead anyway."

Kaiser's eyes narrowed.

"And why is that?"

Carmela let out a soft chuckle, raising her long, sharpened nails.

"Because part of my job is not to leave witnesses breathing."

She lunged.

The Red Witch Strikes

Kaiser barely had time to react—Carmela moved like a phantom, her form blurring as she closed the distance.

His instincts screamed at him, and he threw himself backward, dodging just as her clawed hand slashed through the air where his throat had been.

He crashed against the stone wall, his breath hitching.

Damn… she's fast.

Lifting his head, he froze.

Behind Carmela, a twisted, ghastly figure flickered—a monstrous red witch, its hollow eyes and jagged grin etched in pure malice.

It was her entity.

She had reached Level 3 Quas Blood.

A slow, creepy smirk stretched across Carmela's lips.

"What's the matter, boy? Never danced with a witch before?"

The Ghastly Whisper – Alzalel's Warning

Kaiser gritted his teeth, adrenaline surging.

Alzalel's voice slithered into his mind, sharp and amused.

"This might be your first real battle against a Quas Blood."

Kaiser exhaled sharply.

"I know you'll help me, Alzalel."

A low chuckle echoed through his thoughts.

"Then let's give her a proper greeting."

Alzalel's glowing cyan eyes flickered with wicked glee.

Kaiser lunged forward.

A Battle of Shadows and Blood

Kaiser vanished—Phantom Step activating in a blur of mist and speed.

Carmela clicked her tongue, her chains snapping outward, slicing through the air where Kaiser had been.

Kaiser reappeared behind her, daggers flashing.

He struck.

But Carmela twisted unnaturally, her body bending at an impossible angle, avoiding the lethal blow.

Her nails slashed forward.

Kaiser barely managed to twist away, but a thin cut sliced across his shoulder, burning unnaturally.

She was toying with him.

"You're quite agile," Carmela mused, licking a bit of blood from her claw. "But I've danced with shadows before."

Kaiser huffed, rolling his shoulders.

"Then let's see if you can keep up."

The two clashed again.

The Battle of Titans – Elric vs. Dante Viel

Elsewhere, the battlefield trembled as two warriors collided in a flurry of raw power and speed.

Elric, his body partially fused with Nessie, swung his flail, sending shockwaves of water through the battlefield.

Dante Viel flickered in and out of existence, his spear cutting through time itself.

Every strike, every move, was a clash between strength and precision.

Dante grinned, wiping blood from his lip.

"You're something else, Elric. But let's see how long you last."

Then, his body flickered.

Time Manipulation—activated.

The world slowed, and before Elric could blink, Dante was already behind him.

Pain exploded across Elric's side as the spear grazed his ribs.

Elric grunted but twisted, countering with a crushing swing.

Dante barely flickered away, but there was something wrong.

His breath hitched. His movements were slightly slower.

His stamina was running thin.

Henry Guhn – Securing the Port

Meanwhile, Henry and his warriors secured the port, raising the resistance's makeshift flag.

Gregory stood beside Roland's still body, silent.

Henry approached him.

Gregory looked up, his face unreadable.

"He wanted us to win his war."

Henry nodded.

"Then we will."

Bjorn – The Lost Berserker

Far from the battlefield, Bjorn trudged through unfamiliar terrain, axes still in his grip.

The sounds of war faded in the distance.

He glanced around.

"Where the hell am I?"

Carmela's Curse – Kaiser's Arm is Weakened

The fight continued in the fortress.

Carmela was relentless, her attacks impossibly fluid.

Kaiser flickered, using Phantom Step to barely evade, but the strain was taking its toll.

Then—it happened.

Carmela moved faster than expected, her long, razor-sharp nails grazing his left forearm.

Instantly, a sickly violet hue spread across his skin.

His arm went limp—useless.

His dagger clattered to the floor.

A cold laugh escaped Carmela's lips.

"Oops."

Carmela's Intentions – The Girl They're Both Searching For

Kaiser staggered back, his left arm dead weight.

Carmela slowly stalked forward, her smirk widening.

"Oh, poor thing. You're in such a pitiful state."

She tilted her head, pretending to be apologetic.

"I wouldn't have wasted time with you if I wasn't looking for something… or rather, someone."

Kaiser's eyes sharpened.

"Someone?"

Carmela's expression darkened slightly.

"Dante promised me a girl. A special one."

She ran a claw along her chain, her tone mocking.

"But then, some lowlife resistance fighters decided to put up a funny little fight."

Kaiser's mind raced.

A girl?

His mission was to rescue a girl.

Could it be… the same one?

His heart pounded.

The war was getting more complicated.

Part 5 – The Fall of the Revolutionaries

The Siege of Yore – The Arrival of the Royal Guards

The battle for Yore had raged on for hours, and it was now reaching its most brutal stage. The streets were littered with corpses, the rivers of blood pooling in the cracks of the stone roads.

The defenders of Yore, exhausted and battered, were now on their last line of defense.

The revolutionaries, though severely weakened, pressed forward with sheer desperation, hacking through the barricades, climbing over the bodies of their fallen comrades just to get to the next wave of defenders.

Jeffrey Maxim's army was on the brink of collapse.

And then—a deep war horn echoed across the battlefield.

From the western horizon, a force of 5000 Royal Guards appeared.

A legion of cavalry, their banners of King Fredrik Dimas fluttering under the blood-red sky, their armor polished to a pristine shine.

The ground trembled beneath them.

The revolutionaries, already exhausted and broken, froze at the sight of the charging Royal Guard cavalry.

For the first time, they knew true fear.

The charge was devastating.

The Royal Guards smashed into the rear ranks of the revolutionaries like a hammer of divine punishment.

Some fought back desperately, screaming their defiance, only to be trampled underfoot.Some dropped their weapons, kneeling, hands raised in surrender.Others ran, trying to escape, only to be cut down as arrows rained upon them.

Caught between the forces of Woodsaw and the Royal Guard, the revolutionaries were being crushed.

From atop a high tower, Enzo scanned the battlefield, searching for one man.

Carous Gelheim.

But he was gone.

Carous Gelheim Confronts Jeffrey Maxim

Deep inside the Palace of Yore, Carous Gelheim stormed through the grand hall, his once-proud revolutionary uniform tattered, his body drenched in sweat and blood.

His grip on his sword tightened as he approached the throne chamber.

Jeffrey Maxim stood in the center, calm, composed.

Carous lifted his blade, his breathing ragged. "Your days are over, Maxim."

Jeffrey didn't move.

Instead, he gestured to the large grand window behind him.

"Really?" Jeffrey's voice was calm. "Then why don't you take a look outside?"

Carous, skeptical but curious, took a single glance.

And his heart stopped.

His entire army was being annihilated.

His life's work—his rebellion—was crumbling before his very eyes.

He staggered back, his grip on his sword weakening.

Then—he felt it.

A suffocating, monstrous aura creeping into the air.

The walls cracked. The floor beneath him trembled.

His breathing became shallow. His knees buckled.

He couldn't move.

The room felt like it was collapsing on itself.

And yet—Jeffrey Maxim had not moved.

His eyes bore into Carous like an emperor judging an insect.

The power of Hand of God – King's Presence shackled Carous' very soul.

The revolutionary fell to his knees.

Tears welled in his eyes, his body trembling.

Jeffrey's voice was calm, almost sorrowful.

"I am sorry for your losses, for your suffering. But this... this was never the answer."

Carous lifted his head weakly, eyes filled with disbelief.

"Do you see now the difference between us?"

Jeffrey sighed, stepping forward.

"But power was never my goal. I have never sought to bring suffering to Woodsaw."

Carous could do nothing but bow his head.

His dream was over.

His revolution was finished.

The Revolutionaries Surrender

With Carous defeated and their army crushed, the revolutionaries began to surrender.

Enzo, now leading Woodsaw's forces, ordered his men to secure all prisoners and execute any remaining resistance.

The battle for Yore was won.

Elric and Espada's Unspoken Understanding

Outside the fortress, Elric and Dante's duel raged on.

Dante Viel, breathing heavily, gritted his teeth, feeling the effects of his Time Manipulation.

His stamina was running low.

Elric glanced at Espada.

She was already looking at him.

No words were spoken.

But they both understood.

The Final Strike – Dante Viel Falls

Elric charged recklessly, tendrils of water spiraling around him.

Dante saw the move and thrust his spear forward, impaling Elric's stomach.

Elric grunted in pain but grinned.

Dante realized too late—he was caught.

The water tendrils coiled around Dante's arms, trapping him in place.

His vision spun.

His head felt light.

And then—he saw his own body.

Espada stood behind him, her scimitar dripping with his blood.

His severed head hit the ground.

His body collapsed.

Dante Viel was dead.

Kaiser vs. Carmela – A Ghastly Duel

Back inside the fortress, Kaiser barely had time to react before Carmela's foot slammed into his ribs.

He was launched backward, smashing through a wooden support beam.

He gasped, blood dripping from his lips.

Carmela slowly walked toward him, smiling.

"Still alive? Good. It would be boring otherwise."

Kaiser focused, gripping his dagger.

Then he vanished—Phantom Step.

The two warriors clashed in a vicious, high-speed duel.

Carmela slashed with her clawed chains.

Kaiser dodged, countered, nearly slicing her throat—only to be met with a crushing knee to the gut.

Then—an opening.

Kaiser ducked, twisted, and slashed—his dagger severing Carmela's left arm.

Blood sprayed as Carmela screamed in fury.

Carmela's Fury – Kaiser Brutally Beaten

Carmela's face twisted into pure rage.

"You little worm!"

She rushed forward, overwhelming Kaiser.

A kick to his knee—he stumbled.A backhand to his jaw—his vision blurred.A downward strike—his body slammed into the ground.

Kaiser coughed blood, barely able to move.

The Last Gamble – Gaze of Alzalel

Carmela stepped closer, savoring the moment.

"I'm just looking for a girl Dante promised me. But these pathetic resistance fighters got in my way."

Kaiser's mind raced.

The same girl I'm supposed to rescue?

Then—he moved.

A dagger plunged into Carmela's chest.

Before she could react, Alzalel's hand gripped her face.

"Gaze into the abyss… and know fear."

Carmela screamed as her mind shattered.

But something worse happened.

Her entity—Rosa, the Red Witch—tried to sever ties.

Alzalel caught it.

And then—he devoured it.

The Red Witch let out a horrifying scream as Alzalel's maw consumed it.

Kaiser stared in horror.

What had he just done?

Part 15: The Liberation and Legacy of Vask's Resting

Alzalel lingered beside Kaiser, watching as the violet mark on his forearm—left by the Sanguine Maledict—began to fade. The curse had finally started lifting.

"I guess our business with that witch is over," Alzalel remarked, stretching his arms. "How about we check the room now?"

Kaiser, though still trembling from exhaustion, steadied himself and approached the barred door. With a firm kick, the rusted hinges gave way, revealing a dimly lit chamber. Inside, bound to a chair and blindfolded, was a young girl. She struggled against her restraints, her voice filled with desperation.

"Who is that? I told you—I am not what you think I am!" she shouted, writhing against the ropes.

Kaiser stepped forward, his voice calm yet firm. "Angels and demons are all beautiful."

The girl froze. Her breath hitched.

"Who are you? How do you know those words?" she whispered.

Kaiser met her unseeing gaze. "Roland told me. He said I'd find you."

A moment of silence hung in the air before the girl's lips curled into a bittersweet smile. "Papa..."

The girl was none other than Mariposa Vask, the seventeen-year-old daughter of Roland Vask. Known for her extensive knowledge of healing herbs, she had been kidnapped by Dante Viel for reasons still unknown. Now, at last, she was free.

Kaiser and Mariposa stepped out into the front yard of the fort, where the remaining resistance forces had gathered. As they emerged, the crowd erupted into cheers. Some wept openly, their cries of joy echoing through the war-torn ruins. The sight extended beyond—on the distant field where Yore's forces stood, the soldiers too raised their voices in celebration.

Kaiser, bloodied yet victorious, raised his clenched fist high into the air. The Grimknights, his comrades, followed suit, raising their fists in unison. At the edge of the gathering, Bjorn, who had finally returned to the fort, lifted both of his arms in triumph.

At the Palace of Yore

From the grand balcony, Jeffrey Maxim addressed the people of Woodsaw.

"With peace restored, we will elevate the quality of life in Woodsaw. No longer will we allow suffering to define this city. I promise reforms—better housing, greater opportunities, and protection for those who need it."

He turned toward the Royal Guards and the distinguished guests, acknowledging their efforts.

"I extend my deepest gratitude to King Dimas and the Royal Guards for their support. Without them, this victory would not have been possible."

Squatters District

Mariposa's tears fell freely as she received the news—her father, Roland Vask, had perished in the battle.

Gregory, standing beside her, placed a gentle hand on her head. "Be proud, child. Your father died with a smile on his face. He was a hero."

At the old ruins of the Squatters District, Henry Guhn stood before a gathered crowd, the Grimknights by his side.

"We are honored to declare that the Squatters District is finally free of the revolutionaries. Roland Vask sacrificed himself selflessly, so that we may stand here today."

The crowd erupted into applause, cheers resounding through the streets.

"Roland Vask gave his life to protect this place. Let us not forget his sacrifice. Roland Vask was a hero!"

As the speeches concluded, a Woodsaw army unit arrived. Their leader, an old acquaintance of Henry Guhn, stepped forward with a knowing smile.

"The leader, Jeffrey Maxim, has recognized the resistance's efforts in restoring peace here," he announced. "He extends an invitation to the Grims."

A murmur passed through the crowd.

From the side, Espada suddenly chuckled, clutching her stomach. "The Grims, huh?" she mused, still laughing.

Elric caught her reaction and smirked. "Seems like it's catching on."

Henry Guhn approached the army captain, shaking his head. "We're glad to have helped restore peace here, but I won't be heading to Yore."

The captain smirked, extending a hand. "As always, too proud. I wish you the best."

The two warriors clasped hands in mutual respect.

Before the Woodsaw army could depart, Henry Guhn called out.

"Perhaps you can do me a favor. From now on, this place shall no longer be called the Squatters District."

He turned to Mariposa, a silent question in his eyes.

She took a deep breath. "Vask's Resting," she declared.

Henry nodded.

The captain smiled. "I'll see to it. Consider it done."

The Legacy of Woodsaw

A brief history of Woodsaw unfolded—once known as Terresan, the nation had undergone a drastic transformation when Jeffrey Maxim rose to power, renaming it to Woodsaw as a symbol of change. Now, yet another chapter was being written.

In the newly christened Vask's Resting, the people gathered once more.

"Who will lead us now?" someone asked aloud.

One voice rose among the murmurs. "It should be Mariposa."

She smirked, shaking her head. "It would be an honor… but I have set a new path for my journey."

She turned toward Kaiser.

"I will be with him."

Gasps rippled through the crowd, even Nyx looking utterly stunned.