The sky was dark, thick with clouds that churned like a brewing storm.

CLANK.

The air was heavy, charged with an unseen force that made the very earth tremble.

CLANK. CLASH.

In the distance, the sound of metal meeting metal echoed through the mountains—a violent symphony of war screaming across the battlefield.

CLASH. CLANG.

Flames licked the edges of the vast forest, turning once-proud trees into skeletal remains. Smoke coiled into the heavens, thick with the scent of blood and ash. The land wept beneath the weight of spells, blades, and the unending cries of the dying.

And yet, amidst the chaos, four figures stood apart.

Two on one side. Two on the other.

The world seemed to bend around them—time hesitating, fate narrowing its gaze.

One held a katana, its ethereal edge humming with latent power. His stance was balanced, fluid—blue eyes sharp with a quiet resolve, as though mourning something already lost. Beside him stood a huntress, poised and still, a bow slung across her back, twin sai in her hands. Her gaze was sharp, calculated, calm—a storm contained.

Opposing them was a titan of a man. Broad-shouldered and imposing, he rested a crimson-streaked bardiche against his shoulder, red eyes smoldering with conviction. Unyielding. Beside him twitched a smaller figure—a young woman with an unhinged smile and bloodlust in her breath. She gripped her twin daggers like toys, her body trembling not from fear, but anticipation.

“C’mon already!” she giggled, biting her lip. “We were just getting to the fun part.” A soft, almost obscene moan escaped her throat as she bounced lightly on her feet. “Let’s keep going. I wanna feel something snap~.”

Across the field, the huntress narrowed her eyes. Her grip tightened.

A glance passed between her and her comrade—the one with the katana.

And then…

Silence.

A fragile, final hush settled over the battlefield. The smoke held still. The flames paused. The world held its breath.

The katana-wielder stepped forward, his voice quiet… heavy with sorrow, but laced with something stronger—conviction.

“We could’ve built the future together…”

The bardiche warrior let out a slow breath, his fingers curling tighter around the haft.

“In the past,” he said, voice rough like splintered stone, “I might’ve believed that too… but now?”

His eyes hardened.

“I’ve stopped believing in futures built by cowards.”

No more words.

Only action.

They lunged.

In an instant, steel collided in a burst of light and shadow. The force of their clash split the ground beneath them, a shockwave tearing through stone and flame. Embers scattered like dying stars.

Sparks flew as blades screamed through the air. The katana flashed like lightning, precise and merciless. The bardiche swung like a falling mountain, cracking the earth with every strike. Their movements blurred, too fast for mortal eyes—a dance of fury, fire, and grief.

Beside them, the huntress and the unhinged girl collided with equal ferocity—daggers clashing against spinning sai, elegant strikes traded for feral slashes. One moved with icy discipline, the other with manic glee. One fought to protect. The other fought for the thrill.

This wasn’t just a battle.

This was judgment.

A reckoning between souls once bound by friendship… now torn apart by ideology.

They fought not as mortals, but as forces of nature—warriors whose clash would reshape the fate of the world.

But this…

This is the end of the story.

To understand how it came to this—how four who once stood side by side now stood opposed, blades drawn and bonds broken—

We must go back.

To the beginning.