Chapter 13: Battle of Bloodlines

Lyon groaned, clutching his head.

The air was suffocatingly hot. He’s in a dark place with flames roaring in the distance. Beneath his feet, the stone foundation trembled above a sea of lava.

“Where… is this?” he whispered, his voice rasping.

He limped forward, every step dragging, until his boot brushed against something soft. He looked down.

A boy with red hair, eyes wide open but lifeless, lay sprawled in his own blood. His small body was torn apart, butchered beyond recognition.

Lyon staggered back, horror twisting his stomach.

A little further ahead, another corpse, this one a man with dark hair, a broken horn jutting from his skull. His yellow eyes were glazed, his mouth slack, blood trickling from jagged, shark-like teeth.

Dead.

Lyon's breath quickened. He stumbled past, only to find yet another body, this time, a short girl with wavy blonde hair.

He swallowed hard. “Who are these people?”

But his thoughts stopped cold when his gaze fell next.

Jorelle.

Her glittering eyes were dimmed forever. Her body lay in the ground, motionless.

“No…”

His legs shook. He turned his head.

Kinana.

Her body was broken, blood pooling beneath her.

“No!!” Lyon dropped to his knees, dragging him into his arms. Her warmth was gone, and he let out a ragged scream that echoed across the burning wasteland.

Through his tears, his blurred vision caught sight of one last figure.

Neema.

She stood unsteadily, her back to him. When she slowly looked over her shoulder, Lyon's heart froze, her chest was ripped open, a gaping wound running down to her stomach.

“Neema!!”

She collapsed, and Lyon scrambled forward, catching her before she hit the ground. Her breathing was shallow, her lips moved, trying to form words.

“Neema! Stay with me!” Lyon begged, holding her close, desperate.

And then, a shadow fell over him.

Abaddon.

The demon loomed above, his monstrous silhouette outlined by fire. His scorpion-like tail coiled and then shot forward, straight toward Lyon's face.

—!

Lyon jolted awake, screaming. His body was drenched in sweat, his chest heaving like he'd been torn from drowning.

Beside him, Kinana nearly jumped out of her seat, startled. Across from them, Neema and Tiana froze, eyes wide.

“Lyon?!” Tiana said.

The carriage rocked to a sudden stop. The driver shouted from outside, "What happened back there?"

From the second royal carriage, Louille and Jorelle emerged, rushing toward them. Louille yanked open the door, his face tense. “What's going on?!”

Lyon sat hunched, clutching his chest, trying to catch his breath. Kinana quickly steadied him, answering for him. "It's fine. He gets nightmares. Been that way since I've known him."

Louille exhaled, relief softening his expression. Still, Neema's brows furrowed as she leaned forward, worry clouding her silver-grey eyes.

Before Lyon could speak, Tiana suddenly wrapped her arms around him, pressing his face against her chest.

“There, there,” she cooed in a low, sultry tone. “I'll take the bad dreams away… all you need to do is rest against me.”

Lyon froze in embarrassment.

Neema's face flushed bright red, her hands tightened on her chest.

Kinana's jaw clenched, a vein pulsing on her forehead. “Oi, get your filthy hands off him, why do you even here?!”

Tiana only smirked, “Oh, please. I already had the permission to come with you guys.”

Lyon groaned, half suffocated, half mortified, while Louille and Jorelle exchanged bewildered looks from outside the carriage.

Louille raised a hand, his voice calm but firm. “Everyone… step down.”

One by one, they did. The carriage door creaked open, and the group filed out, Kinana first, stretching her shoulders, then Lyon, still shaking but composed, followed by Tiana with a teasing smile, Neema clutching her umbrella tightly.

Louille descended last, his crimson cloak brushing against the dusty stone path. He turned to face them, gesturing ahead.

“We've arrived.”

Before them stretched towering gates of dark stone, carved with harsh lines and iron sigils. Beyond the gates lay a town pressed close together, buildings of black brick and narrow streets winding like veins. And far above, dominating the skyline, stood a palace with jagged towers and red pointy roofs that gleamed like blood under the midday sun.

The Reuben Kingdom.

Louille broke the silence. "It's best to send the carriage away. Crestoria's royal seals would draw too much attention here."

The driver hesitated, but at a nod from Louille, he cracked the reins. Both royal carriages rolled back down the path, their creaking wheels fading into the distance until only silence and the looming gates remained.

Kinana folded her arms. “Well… this place doesn't look too friendly.”

The group shared quiet looks, the weight of the journey settling heavier now that they were truly on foreign soil.

And with that, the heroes of Crestoria entered the shadow of Reuben's gates, their journey taking its next uncertain turn.

The six of them stepped through the looming gates—

Only to be struck by the deafening clash of war.

Steel range against steel. Blades cut through the air. Fireballs exploded against walls of stone while streaks of lightning carved the sky above. The stench of blood and scorched earth filled the air.

Reuben soldiers in armor and Welch people clashed in the streets just beyond the gates, turning the very heart of the kingdom into a battlefield.

Kinana covered his head with her hands, “What the hell?!”

And then, the chaos shifted.

One by one, peoples both Reuben and Welch, halted their fighting when they noticed the strangers standing at the gates. Their eyes lit with recognition, despair, or suspicion. Within moments, warriors from both sides began to break off from the battlefield, approaching the party.

“Join us!” barked a Reuben captain, his face bloodied but fierce. “If you stand with Reuben, we'll grant you shelter and honor!”

“No! Come with Welch!” shouted another, clutching a spear crackling with magic. “Fight for us and you'll earn glory beyond measure!”

The voices multiplied, a chorus of demands from both sides as soldiers pressed closer, nearly tearing at each other to pull the group into their ranks.

Lyon glanced helplessly at Louille, then at Neema, whose knuckles whitened around her umbrella. None of them moved, caught between the two tides of war.

And then—

A ripple of laughter cuts through the chaos, sharp and mocking.

The crowd parted. From the smoke and sparks of battle stepped a short girl with short, wavy blonde hair, eyes glowing a deep, devilish red. Small black wings unfurled from her back, and a slender succubus tail swayed behind her as if alive. Her smile was all teeth and mischief.

Cerys Cronabelle.

She gave a mocking curtsy. "Well, well, well. What do we have here?"

Her voice carried over the battlefield, turning every gaze toward her.

The soldiers of Welch erupted in anger. “You dare show yourself here, witch!?”

Their fury only widened her grin. She tilted her head, eyes glimmering with malice and playfulness all at once.

“Welcome to Reuben, travelers,” he purred. “I do hope you're not too attached to peace… because there's none to be found here.”

Cerys spread her arms wide, the battlefield hanging on her every word, when suddenly—

A blur cuts through the air.

A strike came down on her from above. Fast, brutal, merciless.

She twisted back just in time, her wings snapping open. Steel screeched against the stone where she'd been standing a heartbeat ago.

Standing in the crater of his own blow was a man with jet-black hair, cold yellow eyes that glowed like embers, and a jagged horn broken halfway up his skull. His lips curled into a shark-toothed grin that was anything but kind.

Evan Aleraf.

Cerys's grin faltered, twisting into a scowl. "Tch. You again?" She dusted herself off, eyes narrowing. "You always ruin my fun."

Without another word, they clashed.

Cerys snapped her fingers, phantom wolves rose from the ground, illusions so sharp they looked solid, beasts of nightmare charging Evan from all sides.

Evan barely blinked. His hand slashed the air, and one by one the illusions fizzled, draining of their power as if ripped straight from her imagination. "Your tricks don't last against me."

“Stealing again, thief?” Cerys snarled, her tail lashing the air. “I'll break that smug face of yours.”

Their battle was relentless, Cerys weaving impossible constructs into existence, Evan stripping them away, twisting their essence into blades of his own. Sparks, flames, and shadows collided, rattling the very gates of Reuben.

The Reuben and Welch soldiers who had been ready to tear each other apart now shouted and cheered, half for Evan, half for Cerys, their bloodlust redirected into this clash of leaders.

Tiana's lips curled in disgust as she crossed her arms. “And that is why I despise those who worship the gods of the Underworld… every one of them is terrifying.”

Just as Cerys conjured a giant spiked spear and Evan lunged with a weapon stolen midair, a blaze of heat erupted between them.

A wall of fire.

Louille stood in its center, claymore drawn, the massive blade wreathed in flame. His fiery red hair blazed as though it had become fire itself. With a single swing, he scattered both their attacks, the spear shattering into embers, Evan's weapon evaporating in sparks.

The ground trembled at the force of it.

The battlefield fell silent.

Every soldier of Reuben and Welch alike screamed in outrage.

“Who dares interrupt!?”

“Get out of the way, outsider!”

But Louille didn't flinch. Slowly, he lowered his burning claymore, the flames dying as he exhaled. His voice carried like a bell across the stunned battlefield.

“Enough.”

Cerys and Evan both froze, eyes narrowing at him.

Louille raised his chin proudly. "I say this fight ends now. Cerys Cronabelle from Reuben and Evan Aleraf from Welch.”

The murmurs rippled through the crowds, soldiers glaring, whispering, uncertain.

He drove the claymore into the ground with a thud. “I am Louille Gabrieg, Prince of the Luminette Kingdom.” He said, crackling with authority. "And with me stand not only warriors of my realm, but the first princess of Crestoria herself." He gestured toward Neema and Jorelle.

Silence rippled across the field.

Louille's voice grew calm, but his words held steel. "We are not here for your war. We are here because there is a greater enemy, neither Reuben nor Welch can face alone. A demigod. We came to ask for your cooperation. To save our world. To save humanity."

The crowd broke into gasps, soldiers shouting to one another in disbelief.

Cerys tilted her head, smirking, but her eyes were sharp. “A demigod, hmm?”

Evan smirked. “A prince from Luminette, huh?” His voice was low, almost amused.

Before anyone could react, Evan vanished from sight.

Clang!

The shockwave rattled the gates. Evan's blade meets Louille's claymore in a furious collision, sparks spraying like fireworks. Louille's arms strained, but he held fast, flame flaring up his weapon in a surge of raw power. His hair ignited once more, embers scattering around his face.

“Not bad,” Evan hissed, baring his shark teeth. "But you're already too late."

Louille narrowed his eyes. "What do you mean?"

“The demigod you speak of…” Evan leaned closer, their weapons locked tight. "They already come here. Not long ago." His grin widened, eyes gleaming with malice. "And it fled. Scared."

Louille remember when they fought the demigod, Hades ask Samael if he should be in Reuben kingdom.

But Louille had no time to process. Behind him, a whisper of air shifted.

“Checkmate.” Cerys purred.

Her imagination bent reality, blades of black glass burst from the ground, aiming straight for Louille's back.

But two figures moved first.

Crash!

Neema swung her umbrella open, the metal ribs clashing against the conjured spikes, holding them back with sparks and shrieks of pressure.

Beside her, Kinana leapt with a roar, her hammer blazing red as it shattered the nearest blade into shards.

Louille wandered back in brief surprise, but before he could thank them, another presence slipped forward.

Jorelle.

Her eyes were closed as always, her expression calm, almost serene, as though the chaos around her was nothing more than ripples on a pond. She walked in silence and stepped into their formation, back-to-back with Neema, completing the defense around Louille.

The air cracked with killing intent.

Evan's yellow eyes gleamed. Flames surged around him, but they weren't Louille's bright orange. They blazed violet, an unholy fire that devoured the air itself. His dark hair lifted in the heat, his horn glowing faintly.

Louille staggered, realizing striking him.

“You! That’s my—”

Evan grinned, his hair wreathed in violet flame. “Your power? Your fire?! I'll show you how to wield it better than you ever could. This is the battle of bloodlines.”

Beside him, Cerys twirled her succubus tail, her crimson eyes narrowing with mischief. “Shall we?”

“Just don’t slow me down.” Evan's smirk was razor sharp.

Evan moves first and forced Louille back step by step, violet fire scorching the stones underfoot. The two flaming warriors became blurs of steel and heat, every strike exploding like thunderclaps.

Meanwhile, Cerys bent her imagination further, and the battlefield warped into a twisted nightmare. Black spikes erupted from the ground, while a yellow rubber duck has summoned, shot laser with it eyes.

Kinana crushed the spikes her hammer, and the duck had been destroyed with a magic projectile from Neema who’s ready to back up.

“We can easily beat you if you are alone.” Kinana barked.

Cerys's wings flared, and her laughter rang out like bells. “If one of me isn't enough…”

The air shimmers, folding in on itself. Suddenly, dozens of Cerys stood across the battlefield. Each one bore a different weapon: a war hammer, a bow, a scythe, a spear, twin sabers, even a whip that hissed with lightning. Their red eyes all glowed in unison.

The soldiers of Reuben and Welch watching from afar gasped in terror.

“All of me,” the Cerys chorus said together, “versus all of you.”

They charged, weapons raised.

But Jorelle's calm voice cuts through the madness.

“No.”

She raised both hands, and a circle of mirrors erupted around the battlefield, gleaming with unnatural brilliance. The first clone struck with her spear, only for the weapon to vanish into glass. The clone was yanked inside, her scream muffled as she pounded against the inner surface.

One by one, the mirrors trapped them. The archer, the scythe-bearer, the hammer-wielder, each reflection sealed their fate. In seconds, the battlefield was surrounded by countless mirrors, each holding a furious Cerys clone inside.

Dozens of identical red eyes glared from behind the glass. Their voices overlapped in perfect unison, echoing through the war-stilled air.

“That's not fair!”

The real Cerys stood alone now, her grin faltering for the first time.

From the crowd that had gathered near the gates, Tiana leaned closer to Lyon.

“Should we join in?” Tiana asked.

Lyon didn't answer.

His eyes were locked on the flames dancing around Evan's shoulders, on the cold gleam of those yellow eyes. On the mischief flickering across Cerys's face, her short blonde hair and devilish wings backlit by firelight.

“…Lyon?” Tiana tilted her head.

In an instant, the dream came rushing back. Hot air, suffocating darkness, the roar of fire and the sea of molten rock.

Evan, face side-ways, horn broken, shark teeth bared in death.

Cerys, sprawled in the lava's glow.

The clash rang out one last time, steel against flame, shards of mirror clattering to the stone. Both sides staggered, sweat and ash clinging to their skin. Even the crowd of Reuben and Welch warriors seemed caught between awe and ease.

No one moved.

Yet no one yielded.

Then—

Step.

A sound so simple, yet it rolled across the battlefield like thunder.

Step.

The crowd's whispers died in their throats, replaced by an oppressive silence.

Step.

Reuben soldiers stiffened. Welch mages lowered their staves. Even the fire that curled around Louille's sword seemed to gutter, subdued by something heavier than magic.

Cerys's smirk faltered. Her tail twitched, betraying unease.

Evan's yellow eyes widened. A shiver ran down his spine, though he clenched his teeth and forced himself not to move.

Neither dared to look back.

Because they already knew.

From the archway beyond the buildings, two figures emerged. First, a boy with short, unruly red hair, his pace slows but unwavering. He walked just behind a taller man, a shadow that bent the air itself.

The man's black hair was messy, his skin pale as if carved from moonlight. Dead-red eyes glimmered faintly under heavy, sleepless lids. A scar cut jagged from his right chin to his cheek, an unspoken reminder of something long past.

On his shoulder perched an owl.

Its feathers were white as snow, save for a single ring of black collar-like plumage around its neck. The creature's eyes were shut, lids heavy as if perpetually unimpressed with the world.

Tiana's lips parted. Her face drained of color. She staggered back, her hand clenching at her chest as memories slashed through her mind.

Blood spraying across stone. A blade slicing through pale skin. A head rolling from shoulders.

“…Impossible.” Her voice cracked with disbelief.

Her wide eyes never left the scarred man who walked among them like a ghost that refused to stay buried.

“Kawamura…” she whispered.

Her body trembled.

“…Nagi.”

Louille's jaw fells open, the flames along his claymore flickering weak. His voice cracked in astonishment.

"…You. You're…the man…from before. At the palace of Luminette…"

The weight of recognition stunned him more than any blade could.

Lyon's chest tightened.

He remembered when they met at the market stalls, the clamor of Luminette's streets, a fleeting figure weaving through the crowd. He hadn't thought much of it then. Just a face. A stranger.

The dream that clawed at his mind like it had been carved there.

The silhouette of a man. That's the same man.

Smiling faintly, as if amused, as if relieved.

"Thank you, partner."

The air itself seemed to bend around his presence. The battlefield, the war, the chaos of Reuben and Welch meant nothing in the shadow of his arrival.

Kawamura Nagi.