Ren stood facing the sand giant, whose roar shattered the sky and rattled the remaining glass windows around the plaza. Fierce winds whipped fine dust in wild spirals around the battlefield.
Simultaneously, Ren spoke into his helmet system."Ultro, are you ready?"
『Yes, Master... As predicted. That sand giant is just a shell. The real Malik is located somewhere inside — I’m detecting core energy and thermal activity in the center of its chest.』
Ren nodded quietly. "Got it." He shot upward, circling the giant’s head, bait in motion.
The sand giant swung at him with its fists, but Ren focused his mind on recalculating tactics. "What’s our ordnance status?"
『Unfortunately, we’re out of missiles. Plasma rounds have drained considerable power from the arc reactor — only 30% energy reserves remaining.』
"Just thirty percent?" Ren murmured, unsettled.
『Time Acceleration Field use consumed much fuel. Thirty percent remains — but your margin for error is razor-thin, Master.』
Ren hovered midair, letting two massive sand fists pulverize the buildings behind him. "Understood... I can activate TAF — but I’ll have to endure the core’s heat. Alright. Let’s do this."
『Master, if activation and exit timing are off even by a second, you’ll feel like a roast turkey in a microwave.』
Ren cracked a small grin behind his visor. "You know my answer, Ultro. Keep cooling systems stable, and keep me in a safe zone."
『As you wish, Master. Noting: humans generally don’t roast well.』
"Noted," Ren replied, then dove sharply toward the ground. Dust exploded outward as he landed on one knee, forming a small crater among the city’s ruins.
He activated his visual scanner; red lines swept across the sand giant’s form. Its chest glowed brighter than the rest — there lay the synthetic heart.
Ren withdrew, sprinting toward a long, clear stretch of rubble. He navigated through debris, leapt over broken pillars and collapsed walls.
Below, stunned spectators—civilians who stayed at the edge of it all—watched in awe. Though they didn’t fully understand what was happening, the armored man standing in the remains represented hope in a shattered world.
Parents held their breath; children stared wide-eyed, clutching their guardians’ hands. They saw... someone prepared to defy the impossible.
Ren stopped at the end of the path, breath held and stance firm — one foot ahead, ready, like a runner before the gun. "Brace yourself, Ultro..."
『Accel Mode activating in...』『1...』
In the distance, Malik eyed Ren’s position. The sand giant raised both fists and began swirling them forward. From his motion came a wall of sand pressure—warship-sized tides crashing like mud.
Ren shifted, shoulders braced. His leg armor glowed red under mounting stress. The chest plate slid open automatically, revealing the TAF Core — a spinning metal disc issuing purple energy pulses. The Rune Stone Endurance in its center glowed warm yellow, standing between him and the fiery furnace within.
A quiet chime — time fractured.
Outside, Ren vanished. Inside his own perception, everything froze: swirling sand, suspended dust particles, the very air stalled in amber stillness.
His first stride cracked the hard-packed earth like a god’s slash. The second raised spirals of dust. On the third — he pierced the sand shell, moving in a light-speed dash through crystalline sand and volatile energy.
His path straightened into a horizontal dash — then he leapt.
In midair, momentum carried him as his gaze locked on the sand heart — a glowing red crystal like an open wound.
He drew his right arm back, channeling all repulsor energy into his knuckles. Pressure spiked. Alarms chirped. He didn’t flinch.
The TAF Core abruptly shut off. Reality snapped back.
A thunderous impact — as though the hammer of the gods struck the earth. Malik’s chest shattered wide open. Scorching red light and sand erupted outward.
The sand giant screamed, groaning and swaying. Cracks webbed across its form like fracturing ice. Sand cascaded in thick waves. Its shape collapsed, raining down like snow around a small, solitary figure.
There, in the bottom of the crater, stood Ren—still upright among the floating sandflakes. The armored human remained on his feet.
In an instant, the world felt... off.
Malik had been certain he was winning. He had unleashed a tidal wave of sand. His hands summoned their full strength, conjuring a massive vortex meant to swallow that so-called "Techno"—bury him with every last hope they had left.
But in the blink of an eye, there was a light.
Not magic. Not elemental. But a thin line—a razor-edge flash slicing through the air, cutting his sand vortex clean in half. He didn’t even have time to react. No warning. No magical buildup. No energy signature.
Suddenly, the wall of sand before him split—not merely split, but sliced, like silk torn by a scalpel. His wave never had the chance to erupt.
"What was that...?" he muttered, his mind scrambling to make sense of reality.
Then, his body was thrown back—not by a visible impact, but by sheer instinct. His heart... it hurt. The sand armor encasing his chest began to tremble.
Malik’s eyes widened.
A figure appeared right in front of him—not from below, not from the side, but as if torn from a different timeline. A blur of violet steel, with its right hand drawn back, eyes glowing a piercing electric blue.
There’s no way he moved that fast...!
Before his brain could even process it, the punch landed.
Everything Malik knew—his strength, his control over sand, the dominance of his colossal form—shattered. The artificial heart in his chest felt as though it had exploded. The sand enveloping his body destabilized. He felt... cold.
The world shook. He was hurled backward, his sand titan crumbling like shattered glass in a storm.
And Malik—buried within that giant—could only stare as cracks spiderwebbed rapidly across its body.
"...Are you... some divine being... or a devil..." he whispered, just before the sand walls collapsed from within, swallowing him in dust and silence.
Ren dragged Malik’s body out of the crater, his breath ragged and uneven. White steam billowed from every seam of the Mark II armor—not from the cooling system anymore, but from the overheated metal glowing red-hot.
Ren’s steps faltered, but he refused to stop. His jet unit had shut down completely, and the servomotors in his knees and shoulders were starting to lock up.
Amid the rubble and the calm daylight, the armored man finally collapsed onto one knee. Gently laying Malik on the ground, he stared ahead—not at an enemy, not at the sky—but into emptiness.
The entire chest plate of the Mark II had warped. The TAF Core—meant for a maximum of 1.5 seconds—had been forced to stay active twice that long. The damage was obvious: the armor core had melted inward, resembling the dent of a steel plate scorched in an industrial furnace.
Summoning his final ounce of strength, Ren triggered the manual-release for his armor. Metal panels began detaching one by one, falling to the ground with the heavy clang of ancient knight’s armor conceding defeat.
His breathing came in ragged gasps. Beneath the suit’s shell, the skin across his chest was badly burned—red and blistered, even charred in some places. The outline of the TAF Core was burned into his flesh like a searing stamp.
Without a word, Ren withdrew a small vial from his belt. The clear liquid trembled in the vial, a testament to the toll his body had taken.
He injected it into his left arm—purposefully, without emotion. This wasn’t a coolant or healing serum; it was a potent neuropathic painkiller strong enough to numb his agony just long enough to stay conscious.
As the drug began to work, his breathing steadied slightly. But Ren’s eyes remained vacant—not from loss, but from a body that was on the brink of giving up.
Beside him lay Malik—motionless. He breathed shallowly, his form now just a heap of what looked like dust and bone, stripped of purpose.
Ren glanced toward him—not angry, not resentful. Just... silence.
A few steps away, the dust began to settle. Shadows emerged at the edge of the ruin—those who had survived this hellish battle.
Nea rushed forward, eyes wide at the sight of Ren, partially stripped of armor, scarred and burned.
"Nico?!" she cried, panic in her voice.
Ren lifted a hand, weak and shaking, pointing toward Malik. "Take him... and please... don’t ask questions yet..."
Then he fell backward, collapsing onto the shattered panels of his Mark II suit. He didn’t lose consciousness—at least not fully. It was more like he closed his eyes to escape the world... and the searing pain lingering in his chest.
"Oh my god... are you even human?" Derek muttered, staring at Ren’s body—covered in burns, steam still rising from his scorched skin.
"Is that really the thing to say right now?" Nea snapped, dropping to her knees beside him, her face tight with worry.
"Careful, help me lift him..." Denon ordered as he moved in, signaling the others.
"Aw—damn, he’s hot!" one of them yelped, pulling back with red, blistering fingers. "Is he cooked from the inside or what?!"
"Seriously... I can’t tell if I’m supposed to be in awe or just heartbroken. And you’re still breathing." Denon looked down at Ren with a mix of frustration and respect. Ren didn’t respond—his eyes shut, breath shallow, but steady.
Then, suddenly, the sand beneath Ren stirred.
It shifted—soft but firm—rising into a thin, curved layer that gently lifted his body without touching the burned skin directly.
All eyes turned toward the source.
There stood Khan. His gaze was tired but calm, like someone who had reached the end of a storm and was finally ready to breathe.
"I’ve got him," Khan said softly.
Around him, the sand shimmered with a quiet hum, moving like it understood—this time, what it carried wasn’t just the weight of war... but something far more valuable than victory.