Near the Center of the Deadlands: 936, December 31st, Monday, 3:00 AM.

“Is that it?” Ninigi whispered as he concentrated his hearing on the area around him, feeling the presence of the demons fade at a consistent rate.

Merely a few minutes ago he was surrounded by an ocean of crimson glowing eyes, prepared to stop him from reaching the center of the Deadlands at any cost, and although he didn’t pay much attention to it at the time, the voice of Sovereign in his head had also vanished without a warning in the middle of the fight.

He was the closest knight to the center, having outpaced both Loki and Atalanta thanks to his greater skill and experience when traversing the zone. Despite the considerable threat he posed as the one chosen by Gladea, Ninigi had been given free passage towards the ruined castle after what could be considered a halfhearted attempt to stop him. The champion cautiously strode across the empty fields towards his main destination, turning his head from side to side in search of both answers and trouble.

“Specter,” the knight called to the god, but was given no response in return. He lowered his head while closing his eyes, perceiving a faint sound that approached him from behind.

What he found lurking in closer was the remains of a yet to be dead specter, fighting an impossible battle against death as its body had been split by the waist. The beast presented a gigantic size despite having being torn in half, utilizing the help of its hands to crawl it was towards the gladean knight in front of it.

Ninigi observed the wounded creature with narrowed eyes, unsure on what could’ve caused its slow and painful demise. He proceeded to casually sit on the dirt with crossed legs, resting both hands on top of his knees while lowering his head slightly. The knight closed his eyes and inhaled deeply from his nose, showing no signs of concern for the approaching demon.

The specter’s hands trembled every time it forced itself forward, slowing down with every agonizing move of its shattered body. Its terrible condition did not stop the creature in attempting to end the knight’s life however, lifting its arm high in the air before forcing it back down against the meditating man.

Its heavy and powerful strike could’ve easily crushed anything under its palm, but like a bag of flour that plummeted into the ground, all the demon was able to accomplish was to create a cloud of dust around Ninigi, as whatever strength it had left was sipped away by the attack itself. The specter dissipated into embers, and left nothing but dust behind as it painfully groaned during its death.

“…” Uninterrupted in his meditation, Ninigi planted himself on the spot like a wall of unbreakable focus—allowing the beast to die by its wounds.

He waited in silence while pacing his breath, sitting at the center of an empty plain of scorched land, dust, embers, and crimson fog. The minutes passed with no signs of demons ever surfacing, which forced the knight’s eyes to open with a displeased expression in his face. Ninigi stood back on his feet after waiting on the spot, now confronted by something worse than a specter, or even an army of them.

“You…” the knight stood firmly with both arms relaxed to his sides.

Ninigi looked into the depths of the shadows that covered the Deadlands, meeting the intense crimson gaze of the man that lurked inside. His height and powerful body structure matched the champion’s, his black messy hair was covered in dirt and dust, flowing down just above his shoulders. His left arm hanged on the side with a dropped shoulder, while the other one carried the broken chunk of a specter’s body in hand—keeping his fingers sunk on the creature’s eyes, as nothing but its head and one arm connected to its shoulder remained of the beast.

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The knight’s questions about the sudden disappearance of the specters, and the broken demon that crawled through the Deadlands until meeting its death suddenly became clear. Let loose in the vast empty lands of the hellish zone, the reinvigorated daemon began its crusade to exterminate any foe that crossed its path of destruction, unstoppable in its advance as none could fare against the aggressive might of a knight that had lost control of himself.

Southern Region of the Deadlands: 936, December 31st, Monday, 3:00 AM.

Nearing her objective with an unstoppable sprint towards the center of the Deadlands, Atalanta’s mind remained occupied by the thought of saving those trapped in the region. No specter seemingly dared to stop her, as she traversed through the vast empty plains of the zone as it offered no further resistance.

While accepting the situation as it was, the blonde knight could not help but notice the calm state of the Deadlands, glancing around her from time to time with skeptical eyes. Her mind would not be left wondering for long however, as the mutilated bodies of multiple specters began to emerge in her path.

“What the…” she whispered, taken off guard by the disfigured creatures that begged for death on the dirt.

Though unable to take her eyes off of them, the blonde knight refused to stop and observe the situation in further detail—preoccupied with the safety of Hydra’s soldiers still fighting ahead. Her path was crowded by endless piles of broken demons, each one of them missing their limbs and important body parts. Despite their horrific condition, none had been killed by whatever force confronted them in battle—filling The Golden Lightning’s head with many questions.

The deeper she ventured into the zone, the larger the mountains of bodies became. Atalanta failed to spot the corpses of any humans among the mangled beasts, taking whatever good news she could at the time with a sigh of relief. The sadistic piles of specters began to block her path forward however, forcing her to weave around and jump above the dying demons.

“What caused this!” she finally spoke, unable to decipher the source of such brutality. “This isn’t Loki…” she told herself. “And Ninigi is completely incapable of something like this… is Specter messing with me?”

Meanwhile, left behind with a wounded and weakened body by The Golden Lightning, Sebastian strode across the scorched land of the Deadlands with limping steps. The fatigue in his body caused his vision to blur, and he could barely stand straight as the enormous steel of his sword felt heavier than ever before.

“Sovereign…” he said, expecting the young man to answer back. “My strength is… miss Atalanta is on her way… I need your help.”

No reply ever reached the major’s ears despite his dire warnings, prompting him to narrow his eyes with a puzzled expression. He continued to call for the god in his head, yet never received a response. Along the way of his long chase for the blonde knight, Sebastian discovered what every living being in the Deadlands had been introduced to in the span of an hour. The deformed body of a specter crossed the major’s path as its painful screeches caught his attention, lowering his head to look at the open back of the beast—almost split in half by the enormous hole left in its torso.

“What is this?”

Without hesitation, Sebastian plunged his blade on the dying demon’s body to put an end to its suffering—tearing it in half from head to toe, and watching it vanish into embers. The major’s thoughts were immediately taken back to the silver haired man that sat in the black throne of the Deadlands’ castle, drawing a worried gasp from his lips, as Sovereign’s lack of response suddenly became apparent.

“Sovereign!” he yelled, mustering every bit of strength he had left to sprint towards the center of the Deadlands.

END OF CHAPTER