Chapter 121: Battle of Hevaria Ends

Draxos took flight.

The crimson sky rushed past him. The ruined temple shrank below, its destruction still spreading, fires starting in the structures the battle had damaged.

A blinding light descended from above.

Draxos’s head snapped up.

Two figures stood in the air on a metallic board. A male human and a female elf. The human was broad-shouldered, severe-faced, with eyes that burned with the particular intensity of someone who had killed enough demons to make it a profession. The elf was tall, ethereal, her features sharp and ancient, her silver hair flowing in a wind that didn’t exist.

They looked down at Draxos and Josh.

Divine light burned around them.

The light intensified.

Draxos raised an arm to shield himself. The darkness around him writhed, pushing back against the divine radiance, creating a barrier of corrupted energy that hissed and screamed where the two powers met.

The light was too strong.

It burned through his barrier like sunlight through fog. The darkness shrieked and died. Draxos screamed as the light seared his wings, burning away chunks of corrupted flesh, forcing him to drop Josh and retreat.

When the light cleared, only Draxos remained.

Injured. Wingless. His chest wound had reopened from the strain. Blood dripped from dozens of smaller burns across his body. His handsome face was twisted with pain and rage.

But he was already healing. The corruption in his body was already knitting flesh, regenerating bone, pulling him back from the edge of death through sheer vitality stolen from hundreds of thousands of lives.

He would recover. In time. With rest. With more lives to consume.

Josh wasn’t so lucky.

The divine light had caught him too. Draxos had been protected by his darkness. Josh had been exposed.

There was nothing left of him but dust.

The dust scattered in the wind.

Draxos hovered in the crimson sky, bleeding from a dozen wounds, watching the dust settle.

His red eyes found the figures on the metallic board above.

The two figures descended.

The female elf moved first as she appeared inside the temple with blinding speed that seemed like teleportation, as if the space between outside and inside had been a suggestion rather than a barrier. Her silver hair flowed behind her like water, and her hands were already glowing.

She pulled Lyra out first as warm healing light spilled from her palms, sinking into the corrupted flesh, fighting the dark energy that Lyra’s absorption couldn’t process.

Then Victor. He was pinned to the wall by solidified dark energy, unconscious, bleeding from a dozen wounds. Grace’s light dissolved the chains like sugar in water, catching him before he could fall, lowering him gently to the ground.

The same healing light extended outward, reaching through the temple’s broken walls, searching for other survivors. It found the girls outside. And Kael.

Lyra woke with a gasp.

Her green eyes snapped open, unfocused at first, then sharpening with recognition when she saw Grace’s face above her. She tried to sit up. Grace pushed her back down.

"Stay still. You’re not healed yet."

"The others—"

"Being handled."

Lyra relaxed marginally. Then Grace’s expression shifted.

The warmth faded. Disappointment replaced it.

"Didn’t I tell you to wait?"

Lyra’s eyes flashed. "If I waited, God knows how many lives would have been in danger."

Grace’s voice went cold.

"You disobeyed direct orders." Each word was precise and like a rebuke. "That led to the death of one of our best Mana Heart guardians, all for approval and promotion?"

She paused.

"When we get back, you’re demoted to a 3-star guardian. This matter will be reported to your master—"

Her eyes flickered, remembering something distant. Someone important. Someone who had been shaping Lyra’s life since long before the Guardians.

"—and to the Head."

Lyra looked down.

The corrupted wound on her back throbbed. Grey’s face flashed through her memory. The weight of a death she could have prevented if she’d just waited. If she’d been patient. If she’d trusted the system instead of her own judgment.

"You will never understand me, Grace."

Grace’s voice softened slightly.

"You’re right. I will never understand you."

Victor watched from the ground nearby.

His blade lay broken beside him. His body was a map of wounds. But his eyes were open, aware, tracking the exchange between Lyra and the elf with an expression that went beyond sympathy.

Understanding.

He was one of the few people who knew Lyra’s past. The real past. Not the mask she showed the world, but the person underneath.

---

Outside the temple, Draxos saw them.

Two Spirit Soul Realm Rank 9 warriors. Their presence pressed against his senses like gravity in reverse—a repulsion that made his corrupted flesh crawl. Even wounded, even wingless, these were opponents he couldn’t fight.

He didn’t hesitate.

He tried to flee.

Dark reddish wings erupted from his back.

He made it maybe fifty meters before the chains came.

Metal erupted from the ground beneath him, wrapping around his ankles, his waist, his chest, his throat.

Draxos struggled.

Dark energy crawled across the chains, corrupting them, trying to dissolve them into dust. The metal resisted. The corruption and the metal fought a silent war, each trying to consume the other.

Rufus stepped forward.

The male human moved with the particular stillness of someone who had spent centuries hunting things like Draxos.

"Where do you think you’re going, demon?"

Draxos’s red eyes found him.

The chains trembled as they crumbled to dust.

Rufus frowned.

"We’ve got company."

A portal tore open behind Draxos as two figures stepped through.

One wore a black mask covering his mouth.

The other wore a clown mask.

The black-masked man reached Draxos instantly. The clown-masked man did the same as they moved to the portal.

Rufus’s eyes widened. His hand moved toward his blade.

Grace was faster.

A giant sword of light materialized above her in a single heartbeat, condensed from pure illumination, and came down like the wrath of a god.

The black-masked man’s shadow moved.

A dark mouth opened from the ground beneath his feet.

It swallowed the sword of light whole.

Grace’s eyes widened.

The trio vanished into the portal.

The portal snapped shut.

Grace stood alone in the ruins of the battlefield. The dust from the vanished portal still hung in the air. The silence pressed against her ears like physical weight.

Her foot slammed into the ground.

The stone cratered beneath her heel as a frustrated expression spread across her face.

She stared at the empty space where three enemies had been.