GUT PUNCH

Twenty men look up—shirtless, slick with sweat—orange eyes flecked with red. Mineshafts riddle the back wall. On a warped table lie skewers of spiny, stringy meat.

From the crowd a green-eyed man straightens. “Nine! You’re here—I was starting to lose hope!”

Nine meets his gaze. “Mersa.”

“But you did come back!” Mersa cheers, with a quick, disbelieving smile. “And with a new face in tow.” His eyes flick to Hanla. “Is she with you?”

Whispers ripple through the crowd—no one can stop staring at the shattered door.

“Why not open the one behind me?” Mersa asks, nodding to the locked far cell.

“Something big is here.” Nine says. “Something… corrupted. So we thought we'd show it our strength!"

Hanla playfully flexes her biceps.

“The explosion—was that you too?”

All eyes swing to Nine.

Mersa gestures to the men. “My soldiers. Survivors. We used the broken shafts, hunted Eradiels to survive…”

Nine steps closer. “Mersa—”

“Didn’t expect this?” Mersa’s smile falls a bit. “You thought I was dead.”

“Yes.” Nine admits. “I’m sorry.”

He huffs a dry laugh—it cracks into something almost like relief. “The situation is that bad, huh? I’ll need to see Jerome and Chisa.”

“What?” Nine blinks.

“If they didn’t tell you, let's keep it that way.” Mersa says, and shakes his head as if to fling off any weight. “Time to get out?”

“If you walk past us.” Hanla says. “There’s a crystal stairway that leads up.”

Mersa nods and waves the men forward. They break into a run—boots hammering toward the light—while he lingers, now staring at the stone golem, still resting at the bottom of the pit.

Nine and Hanla fall in beside him.

“This sword,” Mersa says, head nodding toward the towering blade beside the golem, “is a giant version of my father’s, isn’t it?”

Nine’s jaw tightens. “Yes.”

“So he was right…” Mersa whispers.

He turns to the stone colossus—seven meters of carved muscle veined with pulsing green. His eye catches the light and flares the same green. A single tear tracks down his cheek.

“They betrayed you.” Hanla says softly. “Why don’t you give up these people, this Island?”

“They didn’t know better.” Mersa answers. “But soon, they will.”

His hand trembles, Hanla sees the scars on his back…

Stone grinds. The golem opens its eyes.

“Mersa, run!” Nine snaps, tearing down the soundproof veil with a sweep. “We’ll handle it.”

Hanla blinks—then hears his voice change, low and sorrowful.

“Torvea,” he says to the waking giant, “I’m sorry. I’ll grant you peace.”

“Father…” Mersa breathes, then bolts after his men.

Hanla stiffens. “Don’t tell me—red dust syndrome…?”

Nine doesn’t look away from the golem. “Yes. Every wyvern. Every shade. Someone the dust took, a soul that can’t go to the afterlife, until—”

Hanla swallows hard.

I killed those wyverns. He knew—and still took down every wyvern… Chisa’s look just now… all the silenced scientists… they must have realized it. I had my assumptions but having it confirmed— it’s different.

Hanla touches a fire stone with her left and a water stone with her right hand. Heat licks up one arm, cool pressure flows along the other. She slams her fists together—steam hisses between her knuckles.

“I trust you.” She declares.

Nine nods once.

She runs up to the golem. Right away, it draws its blade for a killing sweep—then staggers as a crystal column erupts in its path, slowing the arc just enough for Hanla to dodge. Her left arm burns even hotter, fire deepening to a harsh ruby red.

“My signature move—NOW YOU’LL FEEL IT!”

She launches, inhumanly high, and drives an uppercut into the colossus’s jaw. The impact booms out. But nothing actually happens.

Midair, the golem rips its sword free of the crystal and hurls it straight at her. With no room to dodge, Nine creates a shield in front of Hanla, the crystal shattering on impact. The blade slams into Hanla’s torso.

Her stomach holds for a beat—

—then fractures. Blood splashes in an arc. She snarls, pivots, and kicks the greatsword aside.

Then she crashes down beside Nine.

Her skin normalizes, a gaping wound yawning in her belly, much too deep for comfort.

She coughs, red frothing at her lips. White ribs show through her torn muscles.

Nine is with her immediately, one hand steadying her, the other braced over the tear.

“It hurts—” She hisses, trembling.

“Focus. Can you regenerate?”

She grimaces, lips pressed thin, jaw clenched. “I have limits…”

Nine slides his fingertips into the wound and she jerks, breath hitching.

“What—are you doing inside me?” She grits out, forcing a crooked smile.

“Joking, now?” He mutters. “It’s like I’m dealing with myself…”

Crystalline filaments spool from his palm, settling into a clear lattice that halts the bleeding.

“It’s temporary,” he explains, “once your organs heal, it’ll dissolve.”

He shrugs out of his shirt and tosses it aside. “I’ll keep him busy, you get a good angle. When an opening appears, aim for the core. Go wild.”

Hanla pushes to her feet and nods, jumping upward.

At the upper rim, Mersa stares down, astonished. “Nine’s always been a beast in battle, but that girl—she punched the colossus skyward!” He raises a hand to summon his own power—nothing but a weak flicker, fizzling out. “I’m too drained… Ahh, I want to HELP THEM!”

Below, Nine flicks his arm and a rack of crystal blades launches up, arcing toward the giant. The colossus snatches one out of the air, eyes moving between him and Hanla.

“Give it everything you got!” Nine calls.

“This time I won't let it land a second hit.” Hanla answers, and runs.

Spikes drive the golem backward in a relentless tide. Hanla pours more power into her arms, flames surging brighter on the left, while the right builds with roaring, pressurized water.

She leaps and slams her fists into its face. Fire eats stone. Water explodes through the fracture. The mask of rock detonates outward in a ring of shards.

The colossus pivots—fast—and barrels straight at Nine.

He conjures a crystal bow in the same heartbeat and draws to a singing full arc. The shot streaks forward, punching through the red eye. It snaps—detonating. The head rocks back—but the monster doesn’t stop. Its blade streaks down.

Nine shapes an axe and meets the strike. Force howls through the shaft, hairline cracks climb along his forearms. Bone pops.

“NOW!” He roars.

Hanla drops from the sky like a cyclone, fire and water braided into a drilling spiral. She hits its chest. The stone screeches as it splits wide open—its core flashes in and out of sight as a quake rips the refinery apart.

Pressure detonates through the caverns. The floors heave. Beams tremble. Hanla’s forearms snap under the backlash—something tears inside her, blood flowing over her tongue.

She doesn’t stop.

She fights through it, until momentum steals her strength and the giant buckles into ruin. Crystal ramps rise at the last instant to catch her and stop her fall. The giant's arm crashes deep into a wall, blown off by the clash.

The colossus gargles through a breaking throat of stone: “...H…E…L…P… J.A.R…A…T…H…I…A… PROTECT… S…O…N…”.

Hanla heavily staggers over to Nine, goosebumps prickling over her aching skin. “I feel like absolute death…. Did it just—talk?”

Nine’s gaze never leaves the giant. “Remnants of his soul.”

“If we end him… isn’t that…?” Blood threads from her nose, more spills past her lips.

“He’s lost his humanity.” Nine says. “Finishing him is a mercy.”

“You’re right.” She whispers. “It just feels wrong. We could have died here, but—”

Mersa’s voice cracks throughout the crater. “END MY FATHER’S SUFFERING! PROTECT JARATHIA FOR HIM! FROM HIM! PLEASE!”

Hanla looks at Nine. His arm hangs open, bone showing, his left eye is bleeding. She glances at her own ruined fists and laughs once, breathless.

“All or nothing, huh?” Hanla sighs.

“All or nothing.” Nine agrees.

The colossus snaps its remaining arm up high. Every shattered stone in the refinery shudders up into the air—then turns, a storm of jagged missiles aimed at the two beings stood below. Hundreds, if not thousands.

Mersa’s breath hitches, in disbelief at this attack.

The sky falls.

Hanla runs.

Above her, crystal blooms by the thousands—lenses, shields, grids—Nine’s will knitting a dome across the crater. Stone missiles shriek and crumble against it. Hanla sprints faster, water flooding her calves, fire roaring up her spine. The colossus swings, but she bounds off a rising crystal step, then another, then a third—high enough to see it all.

So many crystals, spanning her surroundings like a second firmament. Steadfast protection, stubborn and bright.

“No wonder you keep fighting for it.” She pants. “This island… the volcano, the bones of the city—it’s all beautiful. Torvea, I’m sorry but I WILL PROTECT THIS ISLAND!”

A crystal plank unfurls beside her. She kicks off, body corkscrewing into a blazing, steaming drill. The colossus slams its blade across its chest to guard the core—Hanla doesn’t yield. She meets steel with determination, force increasing until rocky fingers burst and green veins crack like glass.

The core flares bright—then the giant tries to hide it with a slab torn from the wall. A crystal wedges in, stalling the attempt. Nine pushes his power deeper, prying stone ribs apart.

White fire rips through the air. Hanla punches into the opening—deeper, deeper—until a beating red heart shows through. She grabs it. Crushes it.

The world inverts.

Implodes.

Silence.

Hanla tumbles inside the collapsing giant, skin scalded, every nerve screaming.

Too reckless, she thinks dimly—then a hand appears in the void moving toward her.

“COME ON!” Nine roars. “HANL—!”

Hanla bares her teeth and holds on tight. He hauls her free, drags her against his chest, and walls them in. The crystal grows thick, then thicker, a cocoon keeping them safe. Above, Mersa tries to dodge as the shockwave reaches him, but crystal shields him just in time.

The colossus folds in on itself. The refinery has turned into a crater of pale, dead stone—no pipes, no rails, nothing left but ash-white ground.

Crystals crack and slough away. Hanla and Nine lie on the floor.

Nine’s eyes are bleeding—dark lines run down from his ears. Hanla’s torso is a wreck—back flayed, arms cracked to the marrow, stomach a mess.

They turn their heads. See each other. Start laughing, ragged and disbelieving.

Mersa is running down, the hole has become a gigantic crater that can be entered on foot, as the steep slope has become a softer transition.

“You’ve grown stronger.” He breathes out, to Nine—and then, to Hanla, he adds, “Hanla. That’s your name, right?”

She nods and winces. “Ow.”

“Thank you.” Mersa says softly. “Truly.”

Nine closes his good eye. “Can I rest a while? Huge headache…”

“I’d like a nap too.” Hanla mutters, touching her cheek to normalize, making no move to get up. “Just… wake us up later…”