2:30 PM.
30 min before the judgment.
In the shadow of an ivy-covered wall near the castle's side entrance, three figures waited silently. Canon, leaning against a carved column, nervously smoked a cigarette. Helydia kept her eyes on the upper parts of the castle, sharply focused. Kai, silent as always, was checking his arrows one last time.
The wind blew—warm, but tense—like the air itself was holding its breath.
Then, footsteps. Two more figures approached.
Kazan walked ahead, calm and composed, followed by Dante. The latter carried his katana on his back… along with a long object wrapped in a gray cloth slung over his shoulder.
Their greetings were brief.
"Ready?" Kazan asked.
"More than," Canon grumbled, stomping out his cigarette.
"Good. Kai, with me."
The young archer nodded and followed Kazan. The plan was in motion.
Once alone, Helydia, Dante, and Canon remained under the cover of an old sculpted pillar.
Canon frowned at the long package Dante was carrying.
"And that? What's in the bundle?" he asked suspiciously.
Dante said nothing. He unstrapped the object… and tossed it to Canon.
Canon caught it midair, surprised. He tore off the cloth—and his eyes widened.
A war axe.But not just any axe.
A long, black handle, smooth and perfectly balanced. A massive axe head, blood red, forged from dense and threatening metal. The weapon practically pulsed with contained fury.
"You really planned to walk into the lion's den without a weapon?" Dante said in a calm voice."Since I broke your last one, I figured this would do. A blacksmith friend owed me."
Canon was speechless.
But quickly, he scowled and turned his head, resting the axe on his shoulder.
"Tch… You think you can buy me off with metal, blondie?"
Dante gave a faint smirk."No. I already know you adore me."
Without another word, they set off.
Climbing the ramparts was easier than expected. Helydia led the way with practiced grace, dodging guard patrols, scanning every shadow. Dante covered the rear. As for Canon… he clenched his jaw, struggling to resist the urge to test his new weapon.
They crossed the rooftops, crawled past gargoyles, and finally reached the top of the throne room. Wind whipped at their faces—and just below them… a glass ceiling.
Through it, they saw Samuel. Still chained on the platform, shirtless, kneeling.
Canon crouched by the ledge.
Helydia tensed and reached out a hand.
"Give me the Phantom Mist Shard."
Canon stared at her, puzzled.
"The… the what now?"
Dante sighed. "The white crystal the old man gave you, you gorilla-brained idiot."
"Oh… That." Canon patted his pockets. Then again. His eyes widened.
"…Shit."
"Don't tell me you forgot it," Helydia hissed.
"…I left it on the nightstand. At the inn."
"You… unbelievable—!" Helydia clenched her fists, furious.
"What do we do now?" Dante asked.
Canon glanced through the glass again.
A giant was entering the room. The executioner. Towering, dressed in black, a colossal axe in hand. He stepped slowly toward Samuel, ready to strike.
"Shit… he's really going to die," Helydia whispered.
Canon suddenly stood up straight.
"We improvise."
"What? Wait—!"
But Canon didn't wait. With a roar of shattering glass, he leapt through the skylight, axe in hand—falling straight toward the executioner.