The massive steel hatch creaked open on its own, like the hand of fate pulling back a curtain.
A spiraling staircase carved from old stone led them underground. Cracks split across the walls, and dim blue glyphs pulsed faintly beneath the surface, casting ghostly light across the winding descent. Moisture dripped steadily from above, echoing in the silence. The air grew heavier the deeper they went—suffocating and still.
"I think I'm starting to get why there were no reinforcements," Nina said, her voice small in the echo. She gave a shaky laugh, brushing hair from her face. "He's waiting."
Sosuke walked ahead, eyes sharp. "Then let's not keep him."
The path ended before two enormous iron doors, worn with age but held together by mana-engraved rivets that hummed with barely restrained energy. As they creaked open, the room ahead revealed itself—an underground coliseum, hollowed out like a ritual battleground. Arched tunnels forked off in every direction, like the mouth of a beast with too many throats. Everything here was meant to trap them.
At the center stood Lance Sterling.
The villain was dressed in his ceremonial uniform, draped in a crimson cape threaded with golden laurels. His hands were clasped neatly behind his back, like a king inspecting the condemned.
"You're interrupting my rehearsal," Lance said. "I was just polishing my speech for after I ascend the throne. It's a shame really, I was getting to the good part."
Mana surged from either side of him in symmetrical bursts. Two perfect duplicates stepped into place, each in variant uniform colors—one black, the other slate gray.
"Tell me," he continued, "would anyone really care if I killed the emperor? They already look to me for leadership. A clean little purge might just earn me a parade."
He raised his hand lazily. More clones poured out from the corridors, forming rows like actors awaiting their cue. Each one bore subtle differences—some younger, some grizzled, others twitching with untamed magic—but all unmistakably him.
"They say the people of Astoria are gullible." Lance grinned and paced. "I think they just enjoy being lied to."
Sosuke narrowed his eyes. "You're deflecting."
Lance tilted his head. "I'm monologuing, Estrella. It's tradition."
"Spread out!" Sosuke barked, his voice snapping the team into motion. "Remember what we trained for!"
Lance stretched out his arms as if inviting applause. "Let it begin then—the glorious fall of Westorria!"
Black aura spilled from his body like ink, crawling up the walls and sealing off the exits in a dome of darkness. The ground trembled beneath their boots.
"This place is alive," Ren muttered.
"More like cursed," Arthur said, spinning his sword and cleaving through the throat of a sprinting clone. "They're not as tough as they look."
"Copy," Lance muttered, watching Arthur from behind a veil of gathering soldiers. "Moon-element mana signature. Curious technique."
Sosuke appeared before him in a blur, katana drawn, lightning flickering across his shoulders. "Fight me. No illusions. Just you."
Rin's voice cut across the field. "Sosuke! Don't fall for it!"
Lance sighed. "Still so dramatic." He rolled his shoulders. "You know I never wanted you dead. That honor went to your cousin. Guinevere's mission was clean and specific—Ryoma Estrella. You? You were just a bonus."
Sosuke's grip tightened.
"I expected you to crumble. I banked on it," Lance continued, lips curling. "I had to get rid of the thorn at my side. A pawn who thought himself a player."
"Stop talking," Sosuke hissed, lightning flashing around his boots. "You speak Ryoma's name like it means nothing. I'll end you for what you did."
"You can try," Lance chuckled. "But I might just throw you back into a prison cell and see how long it takes before you break again."
Violet lightning spiraled around Sosuke's body, his aura expanding like a thunderstorm made flesh. The air around him warped and snapped, lines of raw energy dancing off the floor and licking the walls. His katana vibrated with power, flickering between physical form and pure energy.
Ren slammed his blade into the ground, ice roaring upward and locking several advancing clones in place. "He's going to burn out. You meant to sacrifice yourself from the start, didn't you Sosuke?" he whispered.
The frost glimmered like glass under the electric storm. Ren watched Sosuke and clenched his jaw. "Maybe I should learn from him."
Sosuke took one step forward—and the floor cracked beneath his foot.
Lightning burst from him in all directions, fracturing the clone line and scattering debris across the arena. Each step forward burned the air, every movement a storm's roar made manifest.
"I don't need to chase your clones," Sosuke said. "If I reduce you to ash, the rest will crumble with you."
———
Gabriel strolled through the grand garden, where every hedge was sculpted with precision and each flower bloomed under Ouro's tireless care. The air carried a hint of lavender and rain-soaked soil, fragrant and still. He reached for a blossom—crimson-petaled, streaked with gold—and held it beneath his nose.
"I wish I had more time to appreciate this," he said, voice soft. "Nature never asks for anything. It just gives. Until we ruin it."
Sosuke stood nearby, eyes low. His fingers fidgeted restlessly at his sides.
"You look tense," Gabriel added. "You can speak freely. I'm here to listen."
"It's not that simple." Sosuke crossed his arms, searching the ground for words. "I… did something. Something I don't fully get."
Gabriel turned to him, one brow raised. "Go on."
"I fought Julius. Alone." Sosuke's voice dropped. "He was about to kill hostages. I lost it. The anger had been building for so long, and in that moment, I snapped."
He looked down at his hands. "My katana vanished. It turned into mana. I could feel it, like it fused with me. My body surged with power—real power. I could finally land hits that mattered. But it was unstable. The strength didn't last."
Gabriel watched him carefully. "And now you're wondering what that was."
"I thought maybe you'd know," Sosuke said.
Gabriel gave a small nod, then turned to the flowers again, trailing a hand through their petals. "You've known for a while now that your abilities are linked to your emotions. That's not uncommon. But in your case, your core reacts violently when your emotions spike. You're pouring pure feeling into your technique—rage, desperation, maybe even grief. It grants you strength, but only in short bursts. The cost is always high."
He looked back at Sosuke. "What you described… it's raw potential, unrefined. Powerful, but volatile."
Gabriel stepped forward. "Now imagine what would happen if you could control it. Not suppress it, but direct it. Shape it with intention, not instinct. That would turn a flare into something lasting."
Sosuke's eyes narrowed, processing every word.
"It reminds me of when you lost control during that early tournament," Gabriel continued. "Only a few months into your first year. You didn't know what your power really was—but even then, it responded to you."
He gestured to the field of blooms, swaying gently in the wind. "The strength is already inside you, Sosuke. But unlocking it… that's your burden. And your responsibility."
There was a pause. Then Gabriel added, almost as an afterthought, "What you're describing—lightning fusing with the body, the weapon becoming one with the soul—it sounds a lot like something I read. One of Ouro's old texts on elemental integration."
He turned his gaze skyward. "A technique lost to most. It's called—"
———
In the arena, Lance Sterling's eyes widened.
The air around Sosuke pulsed and cracked, veins of lightning carving into the ground at his feet. The weapon he once carried was gone, replaced by arcs of violet energy twisting across his arms and shoulders, alive and trembling with raw power.
Lance stared, something close to recognition flickering behind his eyes.
"Thunder God…" he whispered.
Pillars of lightning erupted from the fractured earth, searing through the stone ceiling like claws tearing open the sky. Each bolt tore through Lance's lingering aura, unraveling the curtain of dark magic that once choked the arena. Thunder laced with violet mana coiled around Sosuke's limbs, alive and untamed.
"You really were born lucky," Lance muttered under his breath. His smile faltered.
Sosuke stood still, hunched forward, shoulders rising and falling with slow, shallow breaths. The air around him warped and shimmered. Lightning cracked off his body with no rhythm, no restraint, as if even the storm inside him couldn't keep pace.
Lance narrowed his eyes. "Then let's see how fortune protects you now."
He raised one arm, the other stretching behind him as he summoned a spear of condensed obsidian mana. The darkness crawled around his arm, veins of shadow pulsing down to his wrist. With a roar, Lance hurled the spear with all his weight behind it. It split the air like a falling star.
But it never reached its mark.
The lightning surrounding Sosuke snapped to life, twisting midair like a serpent, intercepting the spear. The projectile jolted to a halt as if snatched by invisible hands. The mana crackled violently. And then—
Sosuke vanished.
The spear, no longer restrained, resumed its course. It collided with the far end of the arena, exploding into a wall of black flame. The entrance collapsed in a deafening crash, stone and dust raining from the ceiling. What little natural light remained was blotted out.
Lance blinked, scanning the arena through the settling debris. A cold bead of sweat trickled down his temple. His eyes stayed sharp, but something underneath flickered. Doubt.
A crack of static.
Sosuke's body slammed against the wall just behind Lance, arms raised, energy screaming to be unleashed.
But Lance reacted, vanishing into his own shadow the instant before impact. Sosuke's momentum carried him forward, grinding across the stone floor in a burst of sparks.
Where Lance had once stood, his shadow still lingered, warping unnaturally.
From it, three silhouettes rose.
Identical clones of Lance stepped free, each armed with a blade of concentrated magic, circling Sosuke like hounds closing in on wounded prey. Their uniforms fluttered with the faint echo of the explosion, their eyes reflecting none of the bravado of their creator—only cold calculation.
Lance reappeared behind them, half-shrouded in shadow, voice low but sharp.
"I could crush you right now, if I wanted," he said, mostly to convince himself. "But brute force won't work on someone like you, will it?"
He clenched his fist behind his back. His instincts screamed.
He was buying time.
Not out of strategy, but fear.