When the Box Spins Again"
The pink flame blazed so brightly, so defiantly, that for a moment — just a moment — it made one forget the ruins around them.
Nongban felt it.
An intrusion.
A pulse he hadn't accounted for.
Since the beginning of his long, meticulous plot, nothing had truly unsettled him. He had predicted resistance, betrayal, even ANSEP's final bastion of hope. But not this.
Not Atiya Yaisha.
That boy — troublesome, infuriating — who refused to stay where he was meant to. Who teleported across places like slipping through paper. Whose flame now scorched the lab with defiant clarity.
Nongban's eyes narrowed.
Zelaine stepped forward.
Wounds still fresh, limbs still trembling — and yet the petals answered her call.
Nongban's hand flicked—and a dozen spears screamed toward them.
Zelaine moved first.
The petals flared.
A spear cracked past her cheek — searing heat, a flash of blood. The scent of singed air.
"You frozen shut-in bastard," she spat, eyes glowing.
Her arms shook — still drained — but she stood firm. Barely twenty percent of her strength remained, but her resolve was intact.
Another spear came. The petals caught it midair, shattered it in bloom.
Then—
Cerejeira surged forward. Half-frozen, half-dead, blade raised high.
Cornicius moved too — instinct, not precision — and pulled the trigger.
The shot rang out as steel met frost. Nongban staggered, just for a breath. Not wounded. But paused.
The fight pressed on.
Nongban steadied.
His gaze swept across them all, unshaken.
> "Even now," he said softly, "you reach upward. Against futility. Against despair. You are so loud in your dying."
But the Hingcha… the Hingcha was not looking at them.
It shrieked.
Low, guttural — dozens of its eyes fixated on one thing alone.
> The Box.
The cursed core of the room. Still spinning.
Still warping space.
The Hingcha twisted its form, screaming in frequencies that shattered glass. It tried to fold space around itself, to teleport — to retreat to its lair.
It was weak here.
And then Cornicius understood.
> "The Box never stopped…"
The domain had been cancelled — not halted. The overlapping space fields of Hingcha and Atiya had negated the Box's spin for only moments.
Now both domains were fading.
The Hingcha vanished — and the Box resumed.
It spun faster. Hummed louder. Light bled from its glyphs.
Cornicius acted on instinct. He grabbed Cerejeira, still half-lifted by the Box's pull, and hurled her away from the vortex.
Nongban watched.
> "Even in the face of ruin, you scramble to fix what you broke," he said, voice low. "So that is your judgment. Not mercy. Not salvation. But mending the seed you planted."
The pink flame flickered.
Just once — like a heartbeat skipped.
Atiya staggered.
He hadn't moved much — but it felt like the world moved without him. His pulse slowed. The air thickened.
No. Not now.
He clenched his fists, trying to will it steady, but the fire inside was no longer roaring. It trembled.
Dizzy. Nauseous. Like the weight of his own soul was dragging him under.
Just one more push and—
The flame vanished.
Zelaine glanced at him from across the floor, blood dripping from her mouth. Her expression twisted — a cruel smile at herself.
> "You're not the useless one, Atiya," she said hoarsely. "I am."
Elim stood silently. Still. Watching. A statue in the storm.
Zelaine blinked — unsure if it was truly him, or a hallucination born of blood loss and flame.
And then—
> Boom.
The Box pulsed.
The air around them — a hundred meters wide — locked into place.
Frozen.
Fixed.
And in that instant, time snapped.
When the Box finally stopped spinning…
They were gone.
Every one of them.
Vanished from the lab.
Only silence remained.
And frost.
---
The pink flame still lingered faintly in the air, casting fleeting warmth in the cold, spiraling chaos of the lab.
But this wasn't the only battlefield.
Far above the crumbling platform, amid fractured spires and ruptured stone, a different storm brewed.
Shilial's blade flashed.
Light surged with her — a straight arc of radiance cutting across the dark.
She had arrived just in time.
Nongban's assault came like a storm of spears — unnatural constructs hurled with absolute precision.
Shilial deflected one. Then another.
Her shield of light cracked as the third struck, but she held firm.
A hiss of pain left her lips, but she didn't retreat.
She couldn't.
The moment lingered — long enough for her eyes to find Henriech among the chaos.
He stood silently amidst the wreckage, detached, untouched.
> "There."
Her hands shimmered with divine luminance — and then, the sword of her bloodline appeared.
An ancestral weapon, shaped by centuries of lightwielders. Sharp not just in blade, but in conviction.
A Lightwarden's judgment.
She shot forward.
A blur of golden streaks through stone and ash.
In a heartbeat, she was behind him — sword aiming straight for the neck, light humming with divine clarity.
But Henriech did not fall.
As the blade connected, his form distorted — and detonated.
The blast bloomed outward like a star collapsing.
Shilial barely raised her guard in time, but it wasn't enough.
Light clashed with wave — and the force sent her reeling.
She hit the rubble hard, skidding across broken metal and stone, breath stolen from her chest.
A cough escaped. Then another. Blood welled at the edge of her lip.
Still, she forced herself upright.
Henriech was already moving.
Silent. Precise. Inevitable.
He didn't speak.
He never needed to.
His presence was enough — a cold verdict carried in the hum of bombs circling around him like judgment halos.
He raised his hand.
More spheres of compressed energy bloomed in the air, flickering with quiet menace.
They fell.
Boom. Boom. Boom.
Shilial dodged one. Two. The third clipped her shoulder and sent her spinning again.
Just as the next wave approached—
A shadow moved.
Leon.
From nowhere — or perhaps from the cracks beneath — he emerged, pulling her aside just in time.
He had never been part of the Artem bloodline by birth. But his loyalty was unquestioned. His power? Hidden. Until now.
> "Hold still," Leon muttered.
His hands, cloaked in darkness, shifted her behind a shattered column.
Bombs fell. Dust rose. But she was still breathing.
Henriech stepped forward.
No words.
Just purpose.
Overhead, one large orb shimmered — a massive, silent sphere of pure force. It descended like a falling verdict.
Leon raised a weak barrier. Shadows curled to deflect — but not enough.
Shilial tried to summon another lightshield, but her strength wavered.
Too slow. Too late.
Then—
A chain lashed from the smoke.
Crept.
He pulled them both back in a single motion, hurling Leon and Shilial away from the blast radius.
But the explosion followed.
It bent midair — redirected. As if it had a mind of its own.
And it struck.
Crept's chains coiled in defense. The blow was blunted, but not harmless.
He staggered, for the first time in a long while.
Dust clouded his frame. Blood — faint, but visible — trickled from his lip.
Shilial, watching from afar, clenched her fists.
Crept stood.
Silent. Grim.
And angry.
Henriech didn't stop.
He summoned more.
Another row of bombs, hovering — twitching with instability.
Shilial moved to rise, but Crept lifted his hand.
> "Stay back."
His voice cut through the smoke.
Even now, he protected.
Shilial wanted to argue — but she knew.
She was no longer in condition to help.
Leon stepped beside her silently. The shadows at his feet trembled, flickering without clarity. He couldn't move others with him — not now. His strength had thinned.
Back on the field, the wind shifted.
Crept stood tall.
Chains floated behind him, glinting like coiled steel serpents. His spear reformed in his palm — not summoned by magic, but by sheer force of will.
Henriech's bombs shimmered in return.
A quiet understanding passed between them.
This was no longer a battle of ideals.
This was a reckoning.
Crept raised his weapon.
> "I'm not just fighting you."
> "I'm punishing the lie that let you in."
Henriech's gaze narrowed for the first time.
Still silent.
But his bombs began to spin — forming a final line of assault.
Crept dashed.
Henriech responded.
Light met silence. Steel met flame.
And the night split open.
---