Virendra, now a monstrous armored wolf, moved with terrifying speed. His newly transformed Vajrastrastra—his metallic tails, now larger, jagged, and more sinister—lashed out in a relentless barrage of thrusts.

Devita blocked and tried to counter, but even with Alma’s Exalt Surge, she struggled to keep up. Meanwhile, Alma was deep in concentration, red sigils pulsing as she charged her spell. At the same time, Dheandita sang, her voice hoarse, pouring the last of her strength into Icebound Embrace in a desperate attempt to immobilize Virendra.

With her final note, chains of ice erupted toward him—but they missed. Dheandita's eyes widened in alarm—Virendra had already closed the distance.

Before she could react, his metallic tails pierced her abdomen. A sharp gasp escaped her as blood sprayed from her lips. Pain threatened to overwhelm her, but with a final, defiant note, the very chains that had failed to find their mark twisted in midair and snapped around Virendra, locking him in place.

Alma gritted her teeth at the sight, while Devita became an afterimage, moving swiftly to snatch Dheandita away. With a single nod to Alma, she vanished.

"Ignivel" Alma intoned.

A colossal fireball, wreathed in a pink-white aura, surged from her massive sigil. It streaked toward Virendra and struck him dead-on. The explosion rocked the ship, sending a violent shockwave through the air. Windows shattered, and scorched metal fragments scattered everywhere. His metallic tails were obliterated, his armored skin peeled away, and gaping wounds bled freely as he let out a roar of agony.

Alma stumbled, blood dripping from her nose, her breath ragged. Sweat clung to her skin, her side ponytail undone, and her gown in disarray. The glow of her Exalt Surge flickered and faded, the white-pink aura vanishing completely.

Devita wasted no time after laying Dheandita on the floor. In a blur, she rushed toward Virendra, clashing against his massive claws and countering with a powerful kick.

Meanwhile, Alma dashed to the fallen Dheandita. The wound in her abdomen was deep—there was a high chance of internal damage.

Alma’s trembling hands moved rapidly as she cast Exalt Healing over and over, pink circles glowing around Dheandita’s body.

"Stay with me," Alma whispered.

Devita remained focused on Virendra, her stance unwavering. "Go with her… leave him to me," she commanded.

Seeing Dheandita’s condition, Alma hesitated. But after a moment of deliberation, she gave a solemn nod and began retreating, carrying her wounded companion to safety.

Virendra's eyes followed them for a moment, but his focus soon shifted back to the prey that remained. The moment they disappeared from sight, his form shifted once more. A single metallic tail materialized, while his claws shimmered with wind energy, gleaming in the dim light.

With a feral snarl, he lunged at Devita. The Exalt Surge had faded, and with it, her white-pink aura was gone. Though she fought to hold her ground, her natural barrier flared and cracked under his relentless assault. Blow after blow shattered her defenses until, at last, the force of his strike sent her crashing into the wall with a bone-crushing impact.

Before she could recover, Virendra’s metallic tail speared through her leg, wrenching a sharp cry of pain from her lips. She gritted her teeth, trying to push past the agony, but Virendra gave her no chance to recover. His massive claws wrapped around her body, lifting her off the ground as his sharp teeth parted, hot breath washing over her face.

Fear flickered across Devita's expression, but determination burned even brighter in her eyes. Summoning the last of her strength, she conjured Geo Blade—jagged crystalline shards erupted from the sigils beneath her feet, launching in a deadly volley toward Virendra.

The attack struck his armored frame, cracking but failing to penetrate the reinforced metal shielding his vital areas. Desperation creeping in, Devita tore a strip from her golden-black gown and hastily wrapped it around her bleeding wound.

Virendra’s tail lashed out again, but she kicked it away with surprising speed before lunging for his exposed side. Yet, he had anticipated her move. His massive, clawed arm swung up just in time to block her strike, sending a sharp jolt of pain through her injured leg as she was forced back. Blood seeped through the torn fabric of her gown, staining the floor beneath her.

She steadied herself, realizing this might be her final stand. Using the dust as cover would be pointless—Virendra's wolf-like eyes could see through it just as well as hers. Her wounds had slowed her considerably, but retreat was not an option. Virendra’s hatred burned through every movement; he would never let her escape.

Yet, despite her resolve, she knew the truth. She couldn’t win.

Spinning on her heel, she sprinted toward the entrance, hoping to retreat—but Virendra was already there.

She barely had time to react before his powerful kick sent her crashing to the floor.

Before she could recover, he lunged, his metallic tail screeching through the air as it thrust toward her prone form.

Devita pushed herself up—but didn’t dodge. Instead, she braced herself, taking the attack head-on with her already damaged leg.

Seizing the opportunity, Virendra reached for her, his massive claws closing around what he thought was her body. His jaws parted, fangs aimed for her throat—

Only to bite down on empty air.

It wasn’t her at all. It was a Geo Replica.

As Virendra’s claws remained locked around the crystalline decoy, the real Devita materialized beside him. Before he could react, she unleashed a flurry of Crystalline Blade kicks, striking his wounded, exposed side. The force of the blows sent him flying, blood splattering as he crashed to the ground.

A guttural roar of agony tore from his throat as his monstrous form wavered—then shattered completely. His transformation collapsed, leaving him in his original state, writhing in pain.

For a moment, Devita allowed herself to believe she had won.

Then she saw it.

Virendra, still sprawled on the floor, reached into his belt and pulled out a vial. Horror clawed at her chest as she watched him drink an Evocyte Recovery Potion. Panic surged through her veins. She turned to flee, forcing her injured leg to carry her toward the exit.

But something felt wrong. The air around her crackled with an ominous energy. A sickening realization dawned as she saw the shattered fragments of Virendra’s metallic tails begin to stir. Before she could react, the shards shot forward in a deadly formation.

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She barely had time to scream.

The jagged metal tore into her body mercilessly. Agonizing pain erupted through her as fresh wounds opened across her skin. Blood gushed from multiple injuries, her vision blurring as the world spun violently around her.

Through the haze of pain, she saw him.

Virendra stood over her, a triumphant smirk twisting his features. His hands closed around her throat, lifting her effortlessly from the ground.

"Pathetic," he sneered, his voice dripping with contempt.

His tail shards continued their assault, piercing her again and again until her strength finally slipped away. Satisfied with her suffering, he released her, letting her limp body collapse onto the cold floor with casual disdain.

Without sparing her another glance, Virendra turned away, his armor materializing once more as he wrapped his wounds with makeshift bindings. With his identity concealed beneath his helmet, he strode toward the shelter—toward the true purpose of his mission.

His footsteps echoed ominously through the dimly lit corridor, each step reverberating against the cold metal walls. The hum of the ship’s engines faded beneath the pounding of his heart, the weight of his mission pressing heavier with every stride.

This was the moment everything had led to—the day that had stolen everything from him. The assassination disguised as a skyship crash. The mastermind who had laughed and profited from the deaths of his people. The years spent living under another name, another identity.

Now, it would all come to an end.

His hands hung loosely at his sides, but the tension in his fingers betrayed his outward calm. Each breath came slow and deliberate as he drew strength from the silence. His thoughts drifted to the faces of his family, the echoes of his ancestors—their faint, flickering images guiding his path.

The thought of his people, his clan, and the nation he would reshape fueled his resolve. His ancestors had been the first to envision the principles of the Union, the foundation upon which everything would be rebuilt.

A cleansed land, free from weakness. A nation forged in strength. A bastion of harmony. A stronghold of ideals.

He would purge the corruption. He would tear out the roots of betrayal and decay. No more suffering for the oppressed. No more bending to the whims of the weak.

He reached the final door and didn’t hesitate.

Ten Vajrastra tails materialized in an instant—sharp, metallic appendages primed for battle. They fused together into a single mass of pure power. With all his might, he struck the door. The deafening impact sent shockwaves through the corridor as metal shattered beneath his attack.

He expected chaos. Screams. The hurried shuffle of panicked footsteps.

But there was only silence.

Something was wrong.

His brows furrowed. There had been no reports of the VIP being moved from the shelters—not in any of the ARF military channels. This had to be a mistake.

Then he saw her.

A woman stood on the other side of the shattered door, her long black hair rippling in the dim light. Her eyes were closed, deep blue fabric draping around her as if undisturbed by the destruction before her. Yet, from her, an aura radiated—serene, yet terrifying.

Two massive magical sigils pulsed beside her, frost-bound energy swirling around their intricate patterns.

"Sorry… wrong room," Luna murmured, her voice unnaturally calm as her eyes slowly opened.

Before Virendra could react, she raised her hands in a gentle but deliberate motion.

The sigils flared brilliantly. Then, she unleashed Glacina Virginica.

Frost-covered vines erupted from the sigils, their jagged crystalline surfaces crackling with lethal intent. They moved with unnatural precision, tracking the faintest shift in the air before converging upon him.

Virendra’s metallic tails snapped into position, merging into a Vajra Ward—a massive shield bristling with wind energy. Powerful gusts whipped around him, attempting to deflect the frostbound attack.

But then—His eyes widened. The first tendril sliced through his shield as though it were nothing. Frost crept through the gaps, freezing the wind itself.

Before he could reinforce his defense, his armor shattered in an instant. Desperately, he swung his metallic tails, but the vines pierced through him. Icy cold seared his flesh, spreading through his limbs like poison. His breath hitched, his strength crumbling beneath the weight of her magic.

The final vine coiled around his throat and yanked him down.

His body slammed against the frozen floor, his breath choking in his throat. His limbs felt heavy. Useless. His blood seeped through the cracks in his shattered armor, the freezing tendrils locking him in place.

His vision dulled, the edges of his world fading into darkness.

"I'm sorry... Father... Mother..." he whispered.

Then, silence.

A single set of footsteps shattered the quiet.

Luna's head snapped up, her sharp eyes scanning the corridor.

Her breath hitched when she saw them—Alma and Dheandita, trudging toward her.

They were the very image of exhaustion: bruised and drenched in sweat, their gowns hanging in tatters, hair wild and tangled from the brutal battle they had just endured.

"You okay, Luna?" Alma’s voice was ragged, but she managed a weak smile. "Glad you made it. The plan actually worked."

Luna exhaled softly. Relief settled in her expression as she gave a faint nod.

She remembered the moment they had devised the strategy. Devita had warned them that Virendra's defenses were nearly impenetrable—his metallic tails reinforced by layers of defensive formations, just as Natheva had predicted.

That was when Luna proposed Glacina Virginica.

It was a high-risk strategy. Her anti-armor spell required far more time and focus to cast than even her ultimate. They needed a distraction—something to keep Virendra occupied long enough for her to prepare the spell in silence. Still, even though she had been forced to cast it at less than full power, she was relieved that it had been enough to defeat him.

Luna responded with a faint nod. "How's Devita?" she asked, concern lacing her words.

"We did everything we could," Alma assured her. "The automaton emergency unit is already taking care of her. She's stabilized."

Without warning, Dheandita moved forward, approaching Virendra's fallen form. Her hands trembled as she knelt beside him, eyes clouded with an emotion deeper than mere sympathy. With gentle, hesitant movements, she began channeling ice-blue healing energy into his wounds.

"Dhea, what are you doing?" Alma's voice held a note of disbelief.

Dheandita didn't look up from her work. "He'll die if we leave him like this."

Alma shifted uncomfortably, a flash of shame crossing her face. As a medic, she knew they were supposed to save lives on both sides, but the danger Virendra posed couldn't be ignored. "Stop that... he might try to kill us when he recovers."

"I don't think he will, Alma. Not now..." Dheandita said.

Alma studied her friend carefully. If Devita's story was true, she could understand Dheandita's sympathy—they shared the pain of suffering under the Union's cruelty. With a resigned sigh, she decided not to interfere.

Once Dheandita had stopped the bleeding, they stepped back as the automaton unit moved in to take charge of Virendra. As they turned to leave, Dheandita lingered, her gaze fixed on his unconscious form being loaded into the medical transport.

Her mind wandered to darker places—how easily she could have followed the same path of vengeance as Virendra. If she hadn't met them, if they hadn't saved her and shown her a different way... The memory of how coldly she had treated Devita stung now. Devita's apology still echoed in her mind, and Dheandita knew she owed her one in return.

"Thank you, Alma… Luna," Dheandita's voice was hoarse with emotion.

"Huh?" Alma turned, surprised by the sudden gratitude.

"Sorry, I just... needed to say that," Dheandita whispered, her voice still rough.

Luna smiled at Dheandita and stepped forward, concern evident in her expression. "You two need to rest. Let the others handle things from here."

Alma nodded weakly, her exhaustion impossible to hide. Her heartbeat had become fast and irregular, worrying Luna as she observed her friend's exhausted expression. Without hesitation, Luna moved to escort them to safety, ensuring they would join Devita in receiving proper medical attention.

Her thoughts turned to the chaos unfolding elsewhere. The cube most likely had been taken by them, whisked away under the protection of Grand Lamont—she had glimpsed him fleeing the shelter alongside Grand Chancellor Radmilla and Head Adminisrator Sarvan. Now she could only hope that Friedrich, Jaxon, Drifter, and Hunter would be able to track them down.