Halochassis

The three Halochassis gathered atop the largest meteor rock, a jagged mass of blackened stone that had buried half of the Magic Academy beneath its weight. Wind swept across the ruined battlefield, carrying the acrid smell of smoke, crushed earth, and spilled blood through the air. From that high perch, they held a brief, efficient meeting, their armored forms silhouetted against the gray sky.

“Mission completed. The Silent Warlock has been eliminated,” Adzeel said. He turned his head slightly, the metal of his helmet catching the dull light. “How about the secondary objective, Mastema?”

“I have traced the Silent Warlock’s steps and found his secret laboratory, Bandit Leader,” Risha replied. “Our men are scattering the fake documents and spreading the headlines about the Silent Warlock’s sins as we speak.”

“Good. How about Azazel? Where is he?” Adzeel asked.

“He is still engaging the other Celestial Warden on his own,” Aether answered. “He appeared to be winning, so I did not interfere. Should we go there?”

“Another Celestial Warden being killed in the first operation would be a big and nice bonus,” Adzeel said with a satisfied grin. “Let’s go.”

With a sharp metallic click, he redeployed the helmet of Armaros. The others followed a heartbeat later, their helmets sealing into place as their wings unfurled with a heavy rustle of metal and feathered armor. Then, with a powerful beat, they launched into the sky and rose over the shattered academy grounds, leaving behind the broken stone and drifting ash below.

It took about a minute for the three Halochassis to locate Azazel at the foot of the mountain. Even from afar, the devastation was unmistakable. Trenches cut deep through the ground, craters pocked the earth, and two entire mountains had been flattened into sloping mounds of rubble. Splintered trees lay scattered like broken matchsticks across the battlefield, their branches snapped and stripped bare.

“Goddamn, those two are savages,” Aether muttered.

“I think there is only one savage among the two,” Adzeel said with a thin smirk.

At the very base of the mountain, a wide crater had formed around a ring of fallen trees and shattered earth. In its center stood Azazel, his black-and-gold armor slick with Qinglong’s blood. He kept driving his fists downward in relentless succession, each impact sending another ugly splash of blood across the ground. Beneath him lay Qinglong, mangled and half-buried in the crater, yet still breathing despite his broken ribs, crushed organs, and the side of his skull caved in.

“Good job on taking down the Ultimate Dragon Warrior, Azazel,” Armaros shouted. “Should we finish him off?”

“No can do,” Azazel replied coldly, never slowing his barrage. “This fucker has autonomous regeneration. I can only hold him off until you are finished.”

“Will my sword kill him?” Mastema asked politely.

“I doubt it.” Azazel finally stopped, his fist hovering over a pool of dark blood. “Mastema’s sword can only disable magic, not ki. Ki is a physical force, not mana.”

“Well, unless you have a way to kill him, we need to move,” Samael said. “We have already made a mess out of this place.”

Shin silently agreed with Samael’s assessment. Fighting Qinglong any longer would only waste precious time. He had already killed the Dragon Warrior five separate times during their brutal duel, yet each death had proven meaningless. 

Every time Qinglong’s body was reduced to a mangled corpse, that monstrous Autonomous Regeneration restored him as though death itself refused to claim him. Until they discovered a way to disable or bypass that unnatural ability, there was simply no method of putting him down permanently. Their mission came first, and lingering on this battlefield would only increase the chances of the Celestial Wardens regrouping.

“Roger that.”

Azazel bent down and seized Qinglong by the nape as if lifting nothing heavier than a rag doll. Blood dripped from Qinglong’s battered body, splashing onto the broken rocks beneath them. With a casual swing of his arm, Azazel hurled him across the battlefield. Qinglong’s broken body tore through the air before crashing into the side of the next mountain with a deafening boom, shattering cliffs and sending boulders tumbling down its slope. A cloud of dust and pulverized stone erupted into the sky, briefly swallowing the mountainside.

Without sparing his fallen opponent another glance, Azazel unfurled his radiant energy wings. Crimson light burst from his back, pushing away the lingering dust as powerful gusts swept across the crater. He shot into the sky toward his comrades, intending to leave the battlefield behind.

Then his instincts screamed.

The familiar surge of violent ki flared once more.

Azazel clicked his tongue in annoyance before twisting his head over his shoulder. As expected, Qinglong had already regenerated. Torn flesh knitted together at an absurd pace, shattered bones reformed with sickening cracks, and the blood coating his body evaporated into crimson mist as his physique returned to perfect condition. His green eyes burned with savage delight instead of exhaustion, and his lips stretched into a bloodstained grin. Clutching his lance with both hands, he pulled his arm back, every muscle swelling with explosive strength as he took aim.

“Get back here, you son of a bitch!” Qinglong roared. His voice thundered across the valley, startling flocks of birds from the distant forests. “I’m not done with you, you piece of shit!”

With a violent snap of his shoulder, Qinglong launched the lance. The weapon screamed through the air, its spinning shaft generating shockwaves that ripped apart the drifting dust clouds in its path. It shot toward Azazel like a lightning bolt, fast enough to blur against the gray sky.

Azazel calmly reached out and caught the lance with one hand. The impact echoed through the air with a metallic crack, but he barely flinched. Using the weapon’s own momentum, he spun gracefully in midair before hurling it back with even greater force.

The lance became a streak of silver.

Before Qinglong could evade, the weapon slammed through his chest, erupting out of his back in a spray of blood. The tremendous force lifted him off the ground and carried him several dozen meters before pinning him against a massive boulder, which exploded into countless fragments from the impact.

Still unwilling to take any chances, the other Halochassis immediately followed up.

Armaros raised his draconic arm, its maw glowing like the heart of a volcano before releasing three blazing fireballs. Each one roared through the air, trailing spirals of scorching flame that distorted the atmosphere with intense heat. 

At the same moment, Samael shifted into Buster Mode, the enormous cannon mounted on his arm humming with gathering energy until it unleashed a brilliant beam of concentrated destruction. 

Mastema stepped forward in a single fluid motion and swept her blade through the air, releasing razor-thin crescents of compressed psychic wind that shrieked as they sliced across the battlefield.

The barrage converged upon Qinglong almost simultaneously.

A blinding explosion swallowed the mountainside.

Fire engulfed the impact zone as the beam carved straight through the inferno, while Mastema’s air slashes shredded everything that remained within the blast radius. The combined assault reduced Qinglong’s body into thousands of tiny fragments, scattering flesh, bone, and pulverized stone across the crater. The earth trembled violently beneath the overwhelming force, and an enormous cloud of smoke, ash, and dust billowed upward, obscuring the entire battlefield from view.

Using the thick curtain of debris as cover, the four Halochassis folded their wings and accelerated into the sky. Their armored figures disappeared silently into the dense smoke before vanishing beyond the clouds, leaving no trace behind. By the time the dust finally began to settle, they were already far beyond Qinglong’s reach, denying the immortal warrior even the chance to pursue them.

The instant Lireina stepped through the teleporter, the cool mountain air struck her face. The familiar scent of pine and damp earth filled her lungs, but beneath it lingered something far more unsettling—the acrid smell of smoke, scorched stone, and blood. Croft had already told her everything she had witnessed, leaving no room for hesitation. Without wasting another second, Lireina sprinted toward the mountainous region surrounding Saint Marian Academy, her heart pounding harder with every step.

She leaped effortlessly from tree to tree, her movements as graceful as the wind itself. Branches bent beneath her feet before springing back into place, while leaves fluttered behind her like a trail of emerald feathers. Birds scattered from the canopy as she raced deeper into the forest, the sounds of distant explosions long gone, replaced only by the whispering breeze and the rhythmic rustling of foliage.

Soon, she reached the tallest tree overlooking the valley. Landing lightly on its swaying crown, Lireina steadied herself before activating her Eagle Eye Skill.

The world beneath her seemed to draw closer.

Her enhanced vision swept across the vast mountain range, carefully examining every corner of the battlefield. What she saw immediately tightened her chest. Countless craters scarred the landscape as though meteors had rained from the heavens. Entire sections of forest had vanished, replaced by shattered rock and splintered tree trunks. Fresh trenches carved through the mountainsides stretched for hundreds of meters, while cliffs had collapsed into piles of broken stone.

Then her gaze traveled farther north.

Her emerald eyes widened.

Half of Saint Marian Academy had disappeared beneath colossal chunks of black meteorite. Towers had collapsed into twisted piles of rubble, walls had been reduced to dust, and the once-proud campus now resembled the remains of a city struck by divine punishment. Smoke continued to rise from countless points across the academy grounds, drifting into the gray sky like funeral incense.

”What... happened here?” Lireina whispered, barely able to believe the destruction before her.

She refused to waste another moment.

Gathering mana beneath her feet, Lireina cast Air Trampoline. Invisible platforms compressed the air beneath her, launching her high into the sky. She bounded across the heavens in rapid succession, each magical foothold producing a sharp burst of wind that echoed through the mountains. The academy rapidly grew larger beneath her, and in less than a minute she landed just outside its battered entrance.

Chaos greeted her immediately.

Hundreds of students had gathered near the academy gates. Some were treating the wounded with trembling hands. Others sat silently among the debris, their uniforms stained with dust and dried blood. Many simply stared blankly into space, their eyes devoid of focus, still trapped in the horrors they had survived. The air was filled with quiet sobbing, muffled conversations, and the occasional cry of pain from the injured.

Then someone noticed her.

”Look! It’s the Untouchable Windwalker! We’re saved!”

The shout spread through the crowd like wildfire.

”It’s really her!”

”The Celestial Warden is here!”

”We’re going to be okay!”

Hope, fragile yet unmistakable, returned to countless exhausted faces. Students instinctively stepped aside, forming a path without anyone needing to ask. They watched Lireina with admiration and relief as she walked through the devastated courtyard, her cloak fluttering gently behind her. Some offered silent prayers of gratitude, while others wiped away tears they had been desperately holding back.

Lireina acknowledged none of it.

Her attention was drawn toward a lone figure sitting several dozen meters away.

Qinglong.

He sat in the middle of a crater surrounded by shattered stone, his fists repeatedly crashing into the ground with enough force to crack the earth beneath him. Every punch sent loose pebbles bouncing into the air.

”Damn it!” Qinglong roared, slamming another fist into the dirt. ”That black-armored bastard! I swear I’ll get back at him!”

Lireina slowed her steps.

The anger that had burned inside her ever since hearing Croft’s story resurfaced. She wanted to confront Qinglong immediately. She wanted to demand an explanation for what he had attempted to do to Croft. She wanted him to answer for his unforgivable actions.

But this was neither the place nor the time.

The devastation surrounding him spoke volumes. His battered body, bloodstained clothes, and uncontrollable frustration made it obvious he had suffered a crushing defeat against one of the Halochassis. Despite everything he had done, Qinglong had fought to defend the academy. Despite everything, he had once fought beside her to save the world.

The contradiction tore painfully at her heart.

Ordinarily, she would have embraced her old friend without hesitation, offering words of comfort until his rage subsided. Today, however, her feet stopped several paces away. The memory of Croft’s terrified expression refused to leave her mind.

She could no longer pretend nothing had happened.

Her voice remained calm, almost cold.

”Where is Cattleo?” Lireina asked quietly.

The question silenced Qinglong instantly.

His fists unclenched.

For several long seconds, neither of them spoke. The only sounds were the distant cries of the wounded and the mountain wind passing through the ruined academy.

Finally, Qinglong slowly lifted his head.

His gaze pointed upward.

Confused, Lireina followed his line of sight.

The moment her eyes focused, every ounce of color drained from her face.

”Oh... no.”

Her hand instinctively covered her mouth as tears welled in her emerald eyes.

”This is... horrible...”

Mounted atop a towering iron pike stood Cattleo’s severed head.

His silver hair swayed gently in the cold wind. Dried blood stained the sharpened pole beneath him, while his expression remained frozen in death. It was not merely an execution—it was a public humiliation. A deliberate message meant to dishonor one of the world’s greatest heroes.

The sight struck everyone like a blade through the heart.

Cattleo Vi Examillenia—the Silent Warlock. A founding member of the Celestial Wardens. One of the heroes who had defeated the Demon King and saved the world.

Reduced to this.

Such hatred could only come from someone who wanted history itself to remember his disgrace.

As stunned silence settled over the academy, an eerie chorus of cawing echoed overhead.

Dozens of crows circled the ruined campus before descending in black waves. Each bird carried folded sheets of paper in its talons. One by one, they released their cargo, allowing thousands of leaflets to drift through the smoky air like snow.

Students, professors, soldiers, and civilians instinctively reached out to catch them.

Across the front page, printed in bold letters, was a headline that froze countless readers where they stood.

Cattleo Vi Examillenia Is Abducting Children from Luminous City Slums and Saint Marian Academy to Create a Serum That Preserves His Youth and Grants Immortality

The crowd fell into uneasy murmurs.

Some immediately rejected the accusation.

Others stared silently at the words, recalling Cattleo’s secretive behavior over the years. Doubt began creeping into their hearts.

If the accusations were true...

Did the Silent Warlock deserve such a cruel and dishonorable end?

Or was this the final act of a carefully orchestrated deception?

No one knew the answer.

Yet as more leaflets drifted across the ruined academy, uncertainty spread through the crowd faster than the smoke rising from the shattered battlefield.