The battlefield stood frozen. Then, as if the Hive Queen's death had shattered their unity, the remaining Fades broke into chaos. Some shrieked wildly, their wings buzzing erratically as they attacked without strategy, driven purely by primal rage. Others hesitated, looking around in confusion before attempting to flee into the mist, realizing that without their Queen, they were nothing. The disciplined coordination they once had was gone, replaced by disorder and fear.
Dante, having finally recovered, saw his opportunity. He staggered forward, his sword raised high, his breath ragged but determined.
"Warriors of the safe zone! We—"
Before he could finish his grand declaration, one of the panicked Fades crashed into him mid-charge, sending him sprawling into the dirt with a humiliating thud. The few remaining warriors who weren't actively fighting or dying turned to stare. The awkward silence that followed was unbearable.
Bob, still trying to catch his breath, glanced over and muttered, "…Tough break."
Dante groaned, rolling onto his back, his dignity in shambles. Meanwhile, the remaining Fades continued to scatter, some fighting to the death while others fled into the fog, their once-mighty army completely broken.
Bob panted, towering over the lifeless body of the Queen, his arms heavy at his sides. His Devil Goliath form flickered, then faded as he dropped to one knee, barely able to keep himself from collapsing.
They had won.
But at what cost?
Only a handful of the pilgrims they had tried to save remained. Many had been consumed before the battle had even begun, and others had been lost in the chaos. Some of the orphans had fallen, their bodies lying still in the dust. Even among the elite guards, casualties were high. The battle had claimed far too many lives.
The survivors rescued from the pilgrimage had been escorted back to the safe zone before the battle began, their minds still dulled by the Hive Queen's control. But when she died, their awareness slowly returned. Some wept. Others searched desperately for the families they had left behind.
"Where's my son?" one woman cried, stumbling through the crowd.
"I didn't mean to leave," another whispered, clutching her hands to her chest.
As the truth settled in, as they began to understand what had happened and what they had done, many could only blame themselves.
Elise ran through the safe zone streets, searching frantically. Then she saw him… her brother, barely breathing, lying among the other survivors.
"Help me!" she cried out. A nearby medic rushed over, quickly checking his vitals.
"He's weak, but he'll make it," they muttered, pressing gauze against a wound to stop the bleeding.
Elise clutched her brother's hand tightly, whispering, "We made it... we made it."
Marek stood frozen as his mother sat among the surviving Fog Walkers, staring blankly ahead. The same woman who had raised him, who had once smiled and laughed, now barely recognized him.
"Mom?" His voice cracked, but she didn't react.
She wasn't brainwashed anymore, but something inside her had broken. Swallowing hard, he knelt beside her, his hands trembling. "We'll go home. I promise."
Not far from them, Ezekiel walked toward the row of bodies, his breath unsteady. His son, Jonah, lay among them, still and silent, his eyes dim and lifeless. Ezekiel sank to his knees beside him, gripping Jonah's cold fingers with both hands. He had lost his son long before this moment. Now it was final. There was no saving him.
"Why didn't you listen?" Ezekiel muttered in low voice. "Was it hate for me… or just blindness?"
He closed his eyes. "I should've dragged you back when I still could."
The High Priest of Blood Creed lowered his head, whispering a prayer only the dead would never hear.
The merchant, Liam, sat with his back against a wall, shaking. "I thought... I thought we were chosen," he muttered, his hands gripping his head.
Another survivor, his voice hoarse from screaming, turned to him. "We were lied to."
The words hung heavy in the air. Around them, others murmured in agreement. The illusion had been shattered. The faith that had given them purpose had led them to nothing but suffering.
The survivors that remained stood in silence, their faces pale as the full realization set in. The Fog Walkers were no more. The safe zone had survived, but at a price no one had been prepared to pay.
Vell walked among them, offering what little comfort she could. She wasn't sure if it was working. How could it?
A sudden crackle came from Bob's radio. He was sitting beside the pickup truck, one knee on the ground, resting with his back against the door as if waiting for something. He forced himself to reach for the radio.
"Bob here."
"Finally!" Marcus's voice came through, clear but tired. "We finished things on our end. District 2-01, Hope City is safe!"
Bob exhaled in relief. "You good?"
"Oh, I'm fine," Marcus said casually. "Didn't even get a scratch. But that's 'cause I didn't do much. The Hayashi twins? Yeah, they pretty much handled the whole damn fight. Didn't even break a sweat."
Bob let out a low chuckle, wincing at the pain in his ribs. "Figures."
"You sound half-dead. What the hell happened over there?"
Bob's gaze moved across the safe zone. The wounded were being treated nearby, while the dead lay in a quiet line along the wall. Some survivors wept. Others sat in silence beside the bodies. "We handled it," he said simply.
Marcus picked up on the tone and didn't push further. "Right. We'll talk when you get back. Rest up."
The radio went silent.
Bob slowly stood, his muscles screaming in protest. The fight was over, but something about it didn't sit right with him. His gaze drifted toward the edge of the battlefield, where Sly remained outside the safe zone, still in his Glint form.
Unlike the others, he couldn't go inside, not yet. His injuries were too severe, and while his body would naturally recover due to his advanced Glint stage, it would take time… a lot of time.
Bob exhaled, his jaw tightening. Sly had been reckless, taking on the Hive Queen alone, and now he was paying for it. But even now, unconscious and barely clinging to stability, he was still alive. That was enough.
Iris knelt beside him, keeping watch, her blades drawn in case any lingering Fades dared approach. She wasn't leaving his side, not until he was strong enough to move. Bob, Gabe, and the rest of the crew knew it too. Until then, they would rotate shifts to guard him in the Pink Fog, ensuring nothing got close while he recovered.
Bob sighed, rolling his shoulders. This battle might have been over, but they still had work to do.
From the balcony of Graves Manor, Gregor stood in silence, fingers curled into a tight fist. The other leaders of the Blood Creed watched beside him, their faces unreadable. They had used the Fog Walkers to reinforce their grip on the city, shaping the people's beliefs without ever taking the blame. But now, the illusion was broken.
Even those who had never joined the cult had seen the price of blind faith. The Blood Creed hadn't caused the catastrophe directly, but they would bear its consequences.
They won't forget this, Gregor thought. No sermons. No blessings. Just blood in the streets.
And for the first time since the Creed was founded, he wasn't sure it would survive.
Without the Fog Walkers to distract the masses, questions would come. The Graves Family needed answers, and fast.
Gregor exhaled slowly, already weighing the damage. Rebuilding control over Graves Safe Zone would not be easy. The people had seen too much, and if the wrong voices rose now, the city could slip into something far worse. His eyes drifted to the square below, where Bob and his crew were tending to their wounded. Right now, the people saw them as heroes.
But heroes didn't rule cities.
The Graves Family still held power, but it was no longer unshakable. Gregor knew the question wasn't whether it would be challenged. It was when.
Not far from the crowd, Bob and Gabe sat slumped in their pickup truck. Neither spoke. Their bodies were wrecked from the fight, drained to the bone. For once, even Bob had no complaints. Rest wasn't a choice. It was the only thing left.
After some time, Vell and Gale approached them. Their expressions were serious, but there was a hint of relief now that the battle was finally over. Gale crossed his arms. "We get that you have some kind of information-sharing network. Can we join that?"
Gabe blinked, groggy from fatigue. "Oh, you mean The Web. Yeah, of course you can. By joining, you'll be able to share information with other groups, and they can do the same with you. If someone needs help, you can assist if you want, but there's no obligation."
Vell and Gale exchanged glances before nodding. "That sounds like something we need," Vell said. "We're glad to be part of the Web."
Bob, eyes half-lidded from exhaustion, gave a lazy thumbs-up. "Good choice." Then, after a long pause, he muttered, "I need information about good places to eat."
Gabe rolled his eyes. "There he goes again."
Dante sat alone in his mansion, the dim candlelight casting long shadows across the lavish but cold interior. His bruises ached, his pride even more so. He stared out the window, overlooking the city that was supposed to be under his family's control, his fingers drumming impatiently against the armrest of his chair.
This wasn't over. Not for him.