A chilling laugh shattered the silence, slicing through the heavy air like a blade. It echoed across the blood-soaked battlefield—cold, cruel, and dripping with mockery. Every soul present shuddered. Eldros stood tall amidst the corpses, his golden armor stained with the blood of the fallen, glinting in the dying light.
"What's this?" he sneered, voice oozing contempt. "You think it's over, Asron? Because you cut down my angels, scattered my armies? Pathetic. You've always been so hopelessly naive."
Asron gritted his teeth, Pasifer steady in his hand, the divine blade glowing faintly, as if sharing its wielder's pain. His body shook with exhaustion, wounds screaming in protest—but still, he stood.
"It is over, Eldros," he rasped. "Your armies are gone. Your gods have fallen. There's no one left to protect you. Don't drag this world down with you… Please—end it."
But Eldros only laughed again—louder this time, crueler. "End it? Oh, Asron. You poor, deluded fool." He took a step forward, eyes gleaming with a sadistic light. "You really think you're the hero here? You—you—are the reason this world burns."
He opened his arms, as if embracing the carnage. "You gave the mortals hope. You dared to challenge the heavens. You inspired rebellion. You turned this war into a slaughter."
Asron's chest tightened, anger and sorrow battling in his heart. But before he could speak, something flickered past his eyes—a red glimmer.
A droplet of blood.
Time slowed.
He blinked.
Another droplet fell.
Then—pain.
Sharp. Blinding. It exploded in his chest like fire and ice tearing through flesh and bone. His breath caught in his throat. He staggered back, choking, as Pasifer slipped from his grasp and clattered to the ground.
His knees buckled. He collapsed, the weight of betrayal heavier than any wound.
He looked down.
A dagger—black and crimson—jutting from his chest, its blade pulsing with a malevolent glow.
The Dagger of Death.
Buried deep in his heart.
Blood bloomed across his armor, dark and wet, seeping into the cracks like a final stain.
His hand trembled as he reached for the hilt… but he didn't pull it out.
Instead, he looked up—eyes wide with shock, confusion... desperation.
And then he saw her.
"...Isaki?"
She stood before him.
Expressionless. Cold.
Her hands still gripped the dagger's hilt. Her eyes, once warm with laughter and love, now stared down at him like frost—unyielding, unfeeling.
The silence between them screamed louder than any war cry.
The world tilted.
"Why...?" he whispered, voice cracking like broken glass. "I trusted you... I loved you..."
A flicker of emotion crossed her eyes—regret? Pain? But it vanished, leaving only silence. Slowly, she let go of the dagger and stepped back, letting the weapon twist deeper into his chest.
Asron gasped, the pain consuming him. The betrayal cutting deeper than any blade ever could.
Behind her, Eldros laughed once more—a thunderous, victorious roar.
"You see now?" he taunted, striding toward the dying warrior. "This was never your victory. You never stood a chance."
Eldros chuckled softly, his voice dripping with cruel satisfaction.
"Did you really believe you were ever standing against me? No… You were never my enemy, Asron. You were my pawn from the very beginning."
He stepped closer, eyes gleaming with malice.
"I wanted this war to happen. I needed it. And you… you were the perfect spark. The hero who thought he was saving the world—how poetic."
His voice grew colder, sharper.
"You hunted every Demon Lord, didn't you? Slaughtered them one by one, thinking it was your crusade? But that was my will. They were my greatest threat… and you did my work for me."
Eldros leaned in, his whisper like poison in Asron's ear.
"Before you die… remember this: you were never a warrior of light. You didn't save anyone. You were a blade I used to carve my path."
He straightened, a cruel grin twisting his lips.
"You weren't a savior, Asron. You were the executioner I sent to kill them all."
Asron tried to speak, but blood welled up and spilled from his mouth, painting his lips a deep crimson. He swayed, his vision blurring into streaks of grey and red—but through it all, his eyes stayed locked on Isaki.
Asron gave a faint, bloodstained smile, his voice soft but unwavering.
"Yes... I am the one who killed them all. The one who lit the fire that made people rise and fight for their freedom."
He paused, his eyes locking onto Eldros with quiet defiance.
"But how could you forget... If I had the strength to kill my enemies, why would I spare you?"
His gaze burned with resolve, his voice growing stronger despite the pain.
"I didn't kill the Demon Lords because they opposed the gods. I killed them to protect humanity. Every strike I made, every battle I fought—it was for the people who couldn't fight for themselves."
Asron turned his eyes to Isaki, pain and love woven into his expression.
"Isaki…" he rasped, voice trembling like the wind before a storm. "Do you remember... what I said? I won't die... not before... ending this war."
Eldros burst into laughter—cruel and thunderous, echoing like a curse across the broken battlefield. "Oh, how touching," he sneered, clapping slowly, mockery dripping from every word. "A dying hero whispering sweet nothing to the woman who stabbed him. You almost made me cry." His grin faded, replaced by cold, unfeeling authority. "Isaki. Finish him. We have work to do."
Isaki stepped forward.
Her expression was unreadable—blank, detached—but something flickered in her eyes. A hesitation. A ghost. Then, with a slow breath, she raised her hand to strike.
But Asron moved first.
With the last surge of life burning in his broken body, he summoned all his remaining strength and hurled Pasifer. The divine blade left his grasp like a shooting star—its light dim but determined, the final echo of a dying will.
The sword tore through the air. Eldros's smirk vanished, his confidence shattering as Pasifer slammed into his chest, its edge piercing through divine flesh. A burst of blinding light flashed, and the warlord staggered.
He looked down at the weapon buried in his heart. Disbelief warped his face.
"How…?" Eldros whispered, choking on the words. "Even now… you defy me?"
His knees buckled. He crumpled to the blood-soaked ground, Pasifer still lodged in him, humming with the fading sorrow of its master.
Asron collapsed moments later, his body falling with a dull thud. The sky above blurred into shadow. The screams and clash of battle faded into nothing. Only silence remained.
His final thoughts drifted to Isaki.
"Her smile. Her laughter. The warmth of her touch. The way she once looked at him like he was her entire world."
Betrayal tore deeper than any blade ever could. And yet… even now, as the cold crept into his bones, he couldn't hate her.
His heart, shattered though it was, still beat for her—until it didn't.
He closed his eyes, surrendering to the dark. His breath slowed… and stopped.
In that moment, Asron's world ended.
But the war did not.
It raged on.