The thick fog and smog of Londona clung to the air, veiling the city in a hazy shroud. Despite the oppressive gloom, Ika felt a wave of relief wash over her as she stepped into the open. The muted light filtering through the mist seemed brighter than it had any right to be, a small solace after the horrors of the night. "Fresh air," she murmured softly, though it carried the acrid tang of the city. Even so, it felt like freedom.

Beside her, Neil exhaled heavily, his face etched with exhaustion and relief. The deep gash across his shoulder, inflicted by Idran earlier, had already healed, thanks to Ika’s purifying flames and healing art. He stretched his arm experimentally, grimacing slightly but finding no lingering pain.

“Not bad work,” Neil said, glancing at Ika with a faint nod of approval. “You’ve got a knack for this healing thing, you must have studied well under Doctor Patrick”

Ika offered a weak smile, her voice soft but firm. “You were lucky. That cut was deep—too close to something vital.”

Their brief moment of levity was interrupted by the sound of boots crunching against the damp pavement. From the swirling fog ahead, a squad of guards approached, their armor glinting dully in the muted light. One of them, a stocky man with a sharp gaze and a bushy mustache, paused as his eyes landed on Ika. His expression shifted to one of recognition.

“You there!” he called out, stepping closer. “You’re from the Academy, aren’t you? One of the students?”

Ika hesitated before nodding. “Yes, I’m Ika. How do you—?”

The guard gave a curt nod. “Sergeant Lyle, Captain Henry’s squad. We’ve been tracking the disturbance here. The captain and a group went inside not long ago. From the sound of it, things are… escalating.”

Ika’s heart sank. “Captain Henry? Wait—my friends are with him?”

Lyle’s expression turned grim. “That’s right. Your teammates went in with him.”

Neil’s posture stiffened, his eyes narrowing as tension returned to his features. “They’re still inside?” Sergent Lyle nodded. Neil turned sharply to Ika, his face set with grim determination. “You stay here,” he said, his tone firm and authoritative. “Reinforcements are coming. Tell them what you know, and let them handle it.”

“Professor, you can’t—” Ika started, her voice trembling with worry.

Neil cut her off, shaking his head. “I’m not leaving them in there. Someone has to make sure your friends get out in one piece. You’ve done enough, Ika. Stay here and stay safe.”

Ika stared at him, torn between fear and the desire to help. “We barely made it out last time. Going back in alone—”

“I’ve been through worse,” Neil replied, his voice steady but heavy with urgency. “Trust me on this, Ika. Just focus on staying alive and doing what’s smart. That’s what a good student would do.”

Without waiting for her response, Neil turned and strode back toward the magistrate’s building, his figure disappearing into the fog-shrouded entrance. Ika clenched her fists, her heart pounding as she watched him go. The guards around her murmured quietly, their tension palpable, but none made a move to follow.

For a moment, Ika stood frozen, the weight of the decision pressing down on her. Stay and wait, like Neil said, or risk everything by going back in to help? The acrid air filled her lungs as she took a shaky breath, her resolve wavering.

“Please be careful, Professor,” she whispered under her breath.

——

The smog-choked air of Londona felt suffocating, as if the city itself were mourning the chaos unfolding within the magistrate’s office. Hans stood frozen, Elvira’s shrill laughter and the shark titan’s guttural roars crashing against his thoughts.

"When you encounter one in the field, retreat is often the safest option." Neil’s word during his first year lecturer rang in Hans’ mind, a mantra of caution now rendered useless as Nathuros, the Greater Shark Titan, loomed before them. It wasn’t like any other titan they had faced. Its malevolent energy bore down on them like a suffocating tide, making even breathing a torturous task. The air burned in their lungs; their muscles felt leaden under its oppressive aura.

Marge and Flo stood paralyzed, their bodies unresponsive despite their racing minds. The titan's gaze scanned the room with an intelligence that sent a shiver down Hans’ spine, but it soon locked onto Baron Ewan. Its piercing, predatory eyes gleamed with intent.

The magistrate coughed weakly, attempting to stagger back. His voice cracked, hoarse with panic. “Stop it—stop this madness—!”

Nathuros did not hesitate. With a roar that shook the walls, its claws sliced through Ewan’s chest, sending a spray of blood across the room. The baron’s scream echoed briefly before the titan’s massive hand flicked with terrifying precision. In an instant, his body was torn apart, fragments of flesh and cloth scattering like dust.

Idran, standing closest to the carnage, turned pale. The power of his ring flared briefly, but his eyes betrayed no intention of heroics. He bolted without a word, sprinting toward the exit. "No amount of gold is worth this," he muttered under his breath, disappearing into the mist beyond.

Hans barely registered Idran’s retreat as his gaze darted to Elvira. The woman before them was unrecognizable. Her entire presence radiated a dark energy that seemed an extension of the jar in her hands. Her expression twisted into something feral, her voice guttural as though it wasn’t entirely hers.

Rem, standing at the rear, finally spoke, her voice barely above a whisper, trembling with a mix of disbelief and fear. “She’s… completely under its control.”

Her eyes darted across the room, catching the frantic movements of her teammates, who stood in a line of defense, shaking under the pressure of the battle. Their eyes, once filled with determination, were now clouded with uncertainty as they faced the overwhelming force of the titan.

Behind her, Captain Henry remained unnervingly still, his usual calm demeanor replaced by an almost palpable tension. He hadn’t moved from his spot since the battle began, hiding in the shadows, his face pale and strained. No one could blame him. Anyone who bore no ring, no true power to protect themselves, had no place on the battlefield; to step into this fight would be nothing short of suicide. Yet, despite the terror that clung to him, the guilt in his eyes was undeniable. He couldn’t just abandon the students, not completely. But even now, he knew the futility of facing such a creature with nothing but his wits.

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The students had no time to contemplate the transformation. Nathuros turned toward them, its massive jaws parting as it surged forward, the floor cracking beneath its weight.

Hans reacted instinctively. He raised his hand, and the moisture in the room thickened into a swirling vortex. “Aero Aqua!” he shouted, creating a shimmering wall of water that crashed into the titan’s advance. The barrier held for a moment, slowing Nathuros’ momentum, but it was like trying to hold back an ocean with a paper shield.

“Marge! Flo! Snap out of it!” Hans yelled, sweat pouring down his brow as he strained against the titan’s strength.

Marge’s trembling hands reached for her ring. Her poisonous moths materialized, fluttering around her in an iridescent swarm. “Aim for the weak points,” she muttered, her voice shaky but determined. The moths darted toward Nathuros, their tiny stingers piercing its scaled hide in coordinated strikes. Flo joined in, vines erupting from her ring to lash at the titan’s limbs, attempting to slow its relentless charge.

But Nathuros was unlike any foe they had faced. It moved with terrifying precision, dodging the moths’ most lethal attacks and snapping through Flo’s vines with ease. It anticipated their moves, countering with brutal efficiency.

The titan swiped with its clawed hand, tearing through Hans’ water barrier like it was nothing. The force of the blow sent him sprawling, blood streaking across the floor as he struggled to get back up.

“Hans!” Marge screamed, but her legs refused to move. Fear gripped her like iron chains, and she could only watch as the titan loomed over her fallen friend.

Flo gritted her teeth, stepping forward. “We can’t let it end here!” she shouted, vines coiling around her arms as she prepared another assault.

The titan roared, its jaws snapping shut with a sickening crunch as it lunged again. Hans raised another wave, but Nathuros anticipated the move. With terrifying speed, the titan swiped its massive claw through the barrier, slicing it apart. The impact sent Hans skidding across the floor, blood smearing beneath him as he struggled to rise. Marge gasped as the titan turned its attention toward her, its eyes gleaming with a predatory hunger. Her moths swarmed in desperation, their stingers finding weak spots in the titan’s thick hide, but it wasn’t enough.

As Nathuros’ massive claw arced downward toward Marge, Hans threw himself in the way. With a roar of defiance, he summoned every ounce of strength to create a spinning vortex of water around his arm, intercepting the blow. The force of the strike sent shockwaves through his body, but he held firm, shielding Marge from harm.

“Hans!” Marge cried out, her eyes wide with a mix of terror and admiration.

Despite the pain coursing through his body, Hans turned his head to her, offering a faint, reassuring smile. “I told you, Marge. I’m not letting it touch you.”

Her heart swelled with pride and guilt. He’s grown so much, she thought, memories of their childhood in Thalassea flashing through her mind. The boy who had once tripped over his own feet was now a man standing against impossible odds.

Flo, standing nearby, clenched her fists. She summoned thorny rose vines from the floor, sending them coiling toward the titan’s legs. “We need to immobilize it!” she shouted. The vines wrapped around Nathuros’ limbs, pulling taut as Flo poured every ounce of her strength into holding it in place.

“Keep it distracted!” Hans yelled, blood dripping from his mouth as he raised his hand once more.

The room trembled as Nathuros let out an ear-splitting roar. With a savage twist, it tore through Flo’s vines and surged forward, its jaws snapping inches from her. Flo ducked, narrowly avoiding the deadly bite, and retaliated with another wave of vines.

Hans, battered and bloodied, took a shaky step forward. The weight of his injuries threatened to collapse him, but the vision of Ellie and Jun’de’s confident faces flashed in his mind. This is my moment to prove I’m worthy. If I fail here, I’ll never forgive myself.

As Nathuros reared back for another strike, Rem remained frozen at the back of the room, her face pale and her eyes locked on the monstrous titan. She hadn’t moved a muscle since the battle began, the shock of the titan’s overwhelming power rendering her immobile.

“Rem, snap out of it!” Flo shouted, dodging another swipe from the titan.

But Rem didn’t respond, her hands trembling as she stared at the chaos around her.

Marge and Flo continued their relentless assault, coordinating attacks to divert Nathuros’ attention. Hans, despite the searing pain in his chest, summoned another wave, aiming it directly at the titan’s head. The torrent struck with force, causing Nathuros to stumble, but it wasn’t enough to stop its advance.

The titan roared again, its claw raised high for a devastating strike aimed directly at Marge. She braced herself, her moths swarming in a desperate attempt to block the attack. But before the attack could land, a shimmering mirage enveloped the room. The sound of crashing waves filled the air, and an illusion of an endless ocean materialized around them. Nathuros paused, its predatory instincts faltering as it tried to make sense of the sudden change in its environment.

“Enough.”

Neil’s voice rang out, calm and commanding, as he stepped into the room. His Mirage Pearl glowed faintly in his hand, its power casting the illusion that now disoriented the titan.

“Professor Neil…” Hans whispered, relief washing over him as he collapsed to his knees.

Neil’s eyes locked onto Nathuros and then to Elvira, who clutched the jar tightly. “This ends now,” he said, his voice firm yet gentle.

Neil’s eyes locked onto Elvira. “This isn’t you,” he said, his voice low but resonant.

Elvira clutched the jar tighter, her knuckles white. “You don’t understand,” she hissed, tears streaming down her face. “Arthur… he… they killed him!”

“I do understand,” Neil said softly, raising his Mirage Pearl. A spectral figure began to take shape, its edges shimmering with ethereal light. It was Arthur, her husband, his familiar smile radiating warmth and calm.

Elvira’s breath hitched, her rage faltering. “Arthur?”

The figure extended a hand toward her, his expression one of gentle forgiveness. “Elvira,” Neil said, his tone gentle but firm. “Revenge won’t bring him back. Let it go.”

The jar trembled in her hands as her resolve cracked. The malice fueling her began to wane, replaced by a crushing sorrow. With a sob, she released the jar. It fell to the ground, shattering on impact.

A pulse of dark energy rippled through the room, and the titan began to dissolve, its forms dissipating into the mist. Nathuros let out one last roar before vanishing completely.

Elvira collapsed to her knees, her hands trembling as she stared at the shards of the jar. The spectral image of Arthur faded, leaving her alone with her grief.

Neil knelt beside her, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “It’s over,” he said quietly. “Let yourself heal.”

In the eerie silence that followed, the group stood battered but alive, the weight of their ordeal hanging heavy in the smog-filled air.

——

Neil stepped towards the shattered remnants of the jar, his boots clicking against the debris-strewn floor. He knelt down, examining the pieces with a sharp gaze, his brow furrowed in concentration. The dim light flickered as if reacting to the lingering tension in the room, casting long shadows that made the broken jar fragments look almost… alive.

His fingers hovered just above one of the larger shards. He didn’t touch it directly, as if afraid that the slightest contact might trigger something darker. "I’ve seen many powerful relics in my time," he murmured, his voice steady but tinged with disbelief. "But this... I never knew the jar could summon a greater titan. This is far beyond what I expected.”

He ran his fingers lightly over the jagged edge of a piece, feeling the heat still emanating from the remains. His expression hardened. "There’s something... off about this." His eyes narrowed, searching for the telltale signs of magic—of manipulation—that could explain what they had just witnessed. But all he could sense was a quiet hum of power—deep, ancient, and unsettling.

He exhaled deeply, his words hanging in the charged air. The faint echoes of Nathuros’ roar still reverberated in his mind, a reminder of the forces they were playing with—forces that had always been lurking just beneath the surface of their understanding. The thought of what else might be out there, hidden from their sight, made his stomach tighten.

Turning, Neil looked across the room to where the others were regrouping. Flo was kneeling beside Hans, her hands glowing softly as she worked her healing arts on him. She applied pressure to his side where the titan’s claws had struck, her brow furrowed in concentration, but her lips were pressed into a thin line of worry. Hans was leaning against a broken stone pillar, his face pale, bloodstained, and battered, but his eyes still burned with the same determination as before.

Marge stood by his side, her arms crossed tightly over her chest, her face lined with concern. Her gaze flitted between Hans and the shattered remnants of the jar, the weight of their survival only just beginning to sink in. She was still catching her breath from the fight, but something in her eyes had shifted—an unspoken understanding of just how close they had come to death.

Meanwhile, Rem stood slightly apart from the others, her stance rigid, her eyes distant. She stared blankly at the spot where the jar had fallen, as if she was still lost in the whirlwind of events. Her face was pale, her expression unreadable, but Neil could see the flicker of something deeper in her gaze—something that betrayed the shock and confusion still swirling within her. She hadn’t moved much since the fight, and it was clear that the weight of their encounter with Nathuros had left her shaken.

Turning away from the others, Neil picked up another shard, this one smaller and covered in strange, twisting symbols. His fingers brushed over them carefully, his mind racing. The symbols were too precise to be mere decoration—they were ancient, deliberate, crafted by hands that knew magic in a way that surpassed even the finest scholars of his time.