Chapter Thirty-Three:

"The Price of Hope"

Kaela stood amidst the wreckage of Kagemura, her tail moving with restless energy as murmurs spread through the survivors like wildfire. The battered remnants of Players and Indigenous warriors huddled in scattered clusters beneath the shattered remnants of Shinryu's branches. Some tended to wounds with shaking hands, others stared at the devastation surrounding them, uncertainty heavy in their eyes.

A young Kitsune healer crouched beside a wounded Nekomijin, her hands steady as she pressed herbs against a gash. "You'll be fighting fit by morning," she assured him, her voice carrying quiet strength. Nearby, an elderly Yama-Okami wrapped an arm around two small children who had lost their parents in the battle, telling them stories of heroes who never gave up.

"Where's John?" The demand came from a Player propped against broken rubble, his voice hoarse with exhaustion and confusion. "Where's that samurai guy? Did they leave us? Did they abandoned us?"

The accusation struck like a blade. Others took up the cry, their voices rising with panic and anger.

"They ran!"

"Left us here!"

“That Sterling guy is going to be here any minute!”

“He sounds terrifying!”

"How could they?"

Takashi stepped forward, his towering Yama-Okami form casting a long presence over the doubters. Despite the wounds that made his movements stiff, he drew himself to his full height.

"They're not abandoning us," he said, voice carrying easily over the restless gathering. "They're fighting for something bigger than just this battle. Something that could save all of us, every Realm. And our job is to hold strong until they succeed." His eyes swept the crowd. "My sister believed in this fight. She gave everything for it. We honor that by standing together."

His words sparked something, but doubt still lingered. Faces showed uncertainty, fear of what might come next.

Kaela exhaled sharply, stepping beside Takashi. "Do you really think Rai would have just ran? That John—of all people—would turn his back on us?" Her voice rang with conviction. "After what he lost? After what we all lost?" She gestured around at their defenders. "They're out there trying to fix everything. So we must do our part. We must tend to the wounded, we must prepare, and we must show them what we're made of. Because together, we're stronger than any enemy."

The crowd stirred. Hope ignited in their eyes, spreading through them with sudden fierce intensity.

Players began checking their inventories, sharing potions and supplies. The Indigenous warriors gathered herbs, mixing poultices with practiced hands. A Kitsune mage channeled her MP to add buffs to Players and Indigenous warriors alike, while others fortified their defenses. Their movements gained purpose, their eyes bright with renewed determination.

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"We've got this," a young warrior called out, testing the edge of his blade. Others nodded, their resolve hardening.

Then the air changed.

Color drained from the world, leaving everything in pale, sickly tones. The temperature plunged. Plants withered, curling in on themselves as if trying to escape what approached. The dust hung motionless, suspended as if time itself held its breath.

A mass of darkness formed above them, its presence making the air crack with dread. Reality bent around its edges, twisting away from the wrongness at its core. From within that void, a figure emerged—tall, composed, draped in dark regality that consumed what little hope remained.

Lord Sterling descended as if the very world bowed to his presence. At his side moved Princess Hex, her form both delicate and vicious. Her empty smile never changed.

"Show them," Sterling ordered his daughter, his voice soft yet filling every corner of the ruined village, "what their misbehavior has earned them."

Hex raised a delicate hand. The air shifted—and then the gases spread.

The first mist curled through the crowd, sickly green and alive. A Player turned, sword already moving— cutting through the shoulder of his best friend. His eyes went wide with horror as his body moved against his will. An uncontrollable cackle of laughter escaped his throat, striking him again, and again.

Purple vapors followed, seeping into lungs that suddenly forgot how to breathe. An elder collapsed, hands raised in a final, futile prayer as blood poured from every opening. A warrior clutched their throat, choking on the liquid filling their lungs, unable even to scream. Children ran together. Trying to escape the horrors that hovered towards them, only to succumb to the same horrific end as so many others.

The final mist was black, as oblivion. As it touched them, warriors simply... stopped. Weapons fell from limp hands. Bodies went slack. Minds broke under the weight of their most horrid terrors.

Hex hummed a pleasant tune as she watched them fall. Her head tilted to an unnatural angle, studying their suffering with childlike interest.

Sterling observed the devastation in silence for a moment, then sighed, shaking his head. "How disappointing you all are. New Players, and not one of you is equal to his strength.”

A young fighter curled into herself, sobbing uncontrollably, while another simply walked forward into the chaos, eyes empty, accepting their fate. Terror gripped those who remained. Some scampered—without direction, without sense—only to collapse in the dirt, realizing too late there was nowhere to go

With a simple motion, he summoned a sphere of pure darkness. Sterling studied it for a moment, almost thoughtful.

With a flick of his wrist, he let the orb fall.

The explosion that followed was no mere explosion, it was an extinction.

Miles away, John, Rai, and Akira felt the shockwave before they saw it. The wind slammed past them, burning hot and carrying the scent of life turned to ash. The heat seared their skin even at this distance. Then came the sound—a roar that shook the very foundations of the Realm.

Rai stopped, her breath catching as she watched the massive cloud rise into the sky. "No... we... we just left them." Her voice cracked. "We left them to die."

Akira's voice remained steady, though his hands clenched at her sides. "If we stayed, we'd have failed. We have to believe John is right. Because now, it's the only way to save everyone."

John said nothing. He stared at the horizon as the rising cloud consumed what little hope remained. Yumi's charm pressed into his palm, its warmth a cruel contrast to the cold emptiness settling within him. His fingers tightened around it until his knuckles went white.

He had to believe.

Because if he didn't, there was nothing left to save.