Aeron moved swiftly among the injured, distributing potions and pills with practiced efficiency. His hands were steady, his voice calm as he helped others on how to apply the salves, but his gaze kept flickering back to the battle.
Aman and Zephyr moved like shadows given form, their strikes precise, their coordination seamless. The Frost Ravager—a monster that had given even veteran Resonators trouble—had fallen in thirty seconds under their assault. And now, without pause, they were already sprinting toward the next threat.
Aeron's grip tightened around a healing vial.
Zephyr's saber moved like an extension of his own will, each slash cutting through the air with lethal grace. His footwork was immaculate, his stance unshakable—every motion spoke of years, maybe decades, of relentless refinement.
He's in a whole different realm.
Aeron's teeth clenched.
Aman was better than before.
Not by some overwhelming margin, but enough that Aeron could see the difference. His swordplay was sharper, his reactions quicker. But what truly set him apart wasn't raw skill—it was his mind. Every feint, every repositioning, every strike was calculated. He fought like a man who had already predicted ten moves ahead.
Was he… holding back against me all this time?
The thought stung more than he wanted to admit.
Although he appeared low-profile and calm, Aeron had always prided himself on his talent.
The one who could master techniques in weeks that took others months. He'd even felt a flicker of smugness during his duels with Aman—thinking that, with just a little more effort, he could close the gap between them.
Now, watching them carve through monsters like they were nothing, he realized just how small that gap truly was.
And how far he still had to go.
A low growl escaped his throat as he forced himself to turn back to the injured. He couldn't help them fight—not yet. But he could do this.
His fingers curled into fists.
Strong enough to stand beside them.
Strong enough to protect people too.
So that when the world burned again, he wouldn't be on the sidelines handing out potions.
Meanwhile, Aman and Zephyr cut down two more monsters in another minute—their movements synchronized, their blades flashing like silver and shadow. Only one threat remained: a massive aerial bird monster circling above, its razor-sharp feathers glinting in the fractured light.
A tremor rippled through the air.
A sudden hush swept the battlefield—like the world had drawn a sharp breath.
Zephyr and the veteran Resonators froze, their faces paling as they turned toward the spatial tear.
Even the monsters paused, their instincts warning of something worse than blades or Resonators.
The tear pulsed erratically—shrinking violently one second, swelling unnaturally the next. The energy around it warped, distorting the very air like heat haze.
And standing beside it, barely visible through the distortion, was a figure.
A man—no, a shell of one. His white lab coat was torn and bloodied, his glasses cracked. His movements were jerky, frantic, as he hurled objects into the fissure with trembling hands.
"I'll kill you all!" he shrieked, his voice raw with hysteria. "I'll kill you! I'll kill you!"
Zephyr's expression darkened. "Not good. The tear's destabilizing." His grip on his saber tightened. "At this rate, it'll collapse on itself."
Aman frowned. "Isn't that good?"
"No." Zephyr's voice was ice. "It'll explode. Everything within its radius will be obliterated."
Aman's eyes widened. Around them, the remaining fighters stiffened—then immediately broke into frantic motion, dragging the injured away, shouting for evacuation.
Aman checked his timer. His lips twitched—just enough time.
"Everyone, evacuate!" he roared—though most were already fleeing.
Another tremor. Stronger this time. The fissure convulsed, its edges fraying like torn fabric.
Zephyr's silver eyes flashed. "It's going to blow—now!"
His saber slashed through the air, a green portal ripping open beside the crazed man. But before Zephyr could step through—
The aerial monster dove, its talons aimed straight for Zephyr's back. He twisted, barely avoiding the strike—but the distraction cost him. The portal flickered, unstable.
Aman didn't hesitate.
He vanished—reappearing on the other side just as the portal collapsed.
Aman's vision swam as he materialized near the fissure. The air crackled with unstable energy, making each breath feel like inhaling glass. Before him, the madman continued his frenzied assault against the tear, hurling vials and objects with trembling hands. Tears mixed with blood streaked down his face, his eyes wild and unfocused.
Something broke him, Aman realized. But there was no time to dwell on it.
He reappeared beside the man in an instant, grabbing his arm with bruising force. "We need to go—now!"
"NO! LET ME GO!" The man thrashed like a wild animal, his nails raking bloody lines across Aman's wrist. "THEY HAVE TO PAY! THEY ALL HAVE TO—"
Aman cursed as the man's struggles slowed their retreat. The fissure pulsed violently behind them, its edges unraveling like a frayed noose. Then—a flicker of green in his peripheral vision.
Zephyr had managed to open one, just a few meters away.
"I got you!" Aman gritted his teeth and, with all his strength, hurled the madman toward the shimmering rift.
The man's body tumbled through—just as the world shattered.
A shockwave of distorted space rippled outward, swallowing light and sound. Aman didn't think—he moved.
He lunged for the portal, his body halfway through, when shadowy hands suddenly clamped around his ankles.
"I got you," the madman hissed from within the swirling light.
But his voice had changed. Still guttural, yes—but now tinged with amusement, laced with something far too lucid. Unsettlingly calm.
Time seemed to slow, the roar of the collapsing tear fading to a distant hum as the man's features flickered—just for an instant. The blood and grime on his face peeled away like smoke, revealing a grin that didn't belong to a broken man, but to something else entirely.
A grin full of mockery.
Aman's breath caught.
The pull was brutal and unbreakable.
Aman's vision whited out as he was wrenched backward—
—just as the shockwave hit.