The silence after Sloth's fall was a different kind of battlefield no screams, no clashes of steel, only the suffocating weight of fear.

Khael swayed where he knelt, blood dripping from his lips, golden eyes flickering like dying lanterns. The faint glow of Dragonheart Severance still clung to him, sparks dissolving into the ash-filled air.

He coughed, the sound raw, hollow. (So this… is the price. The blade wasn't meant for me. Not yet. I forced it open. I forced it through.)

Ceyla's hands shook as she gripped his shoulders, her storm barriers flickering weakly around them. "No… No, don't you dare, Khael!" Her voice cracked like thunder under rain.

Andromeda Ban, arrogant sneer nowhere to be found, crouched low, Junjun snarling uneasily at his side. His nostrils flared, his voice quiet. "His Shinrei… it's weakening. The smell's all wrong."

Matthew's ribbons flared and lashed against the ground, untamed. "Shit…" His young voice trembled.

Saya's eyes darted to Shigeo, desperate, begging. "What should we do, Shigeo? You always know the way… tell me!"

Shigeo Motome, genius of a thousand possibilities, stood frozen. His hands still crackled faintly with residual lightning, but the Thousand Way had gone blank every branch, every strand collapsed into nothing. His eyes were wide, hollow, unblinking. "I… I can't. This… this is beyond calculation. There's no path left to predict."

Kaen staggered forward, claws half-drawn, his body trembling with the void burning inside. He grabbed Khael's collar, screaming through clenched teeth. "No!!! Khael, don't you dare die on us, damnit! You're the one who's supposed to survive! You're the one who carries us forward!"

Rael folded his arms, his smirk tight, masking the tremor in his wings. "Tsk…" His voice was low, heavy. "Dragonheart Severance… it wasn't made for someone so young. His core… it's unraveling."

Lira's hands glowed soft green, her Bloom affinity wrapping Khael in threads of healing light. Tears traced her cheeks, yet her voice was stubborn, steady. "There is still hope. His Shinrei… it's not gone. It's burning, but not gone. I can reach it—I can!"

Baek Suwon, standing off to the side, shoulders heavy with blood and exhaustion, looked down with hollow eyes. His words cut like steel left too long in the rain. "What hope? There is no hope…"

The three veterans Raiden, Zeke, Kurozawa watched in grim silence. They had seen warriors die in ways too cruel for words, but this was different. This was a boy too young, too stubborn who had reached for a weapon of kings.

Zeke's molten fists clenched, magma dripping to the ground. "Damn kid…"

Raiden's lightning flickered around his jaw, but his eyes softened. (Dragon Knight…Just like the stories. Just like the legends.)

Kurozawa's hand tightened on his blade. His thought was a whisper, but one that carried the weight of a teacher mourning a future. (The future is bright… but too bright often burns itself out before it shines long enough.)

Khael, half-conscious, heard them all every word. His breath was shallow, every inhale fire, every exhale smoke. But deep inside, beneath the agony, the dragon within whispered cold, ancient, unyielding:

(Not yet. Not yet. You are not done, child.)

And Khael's trembling fingers clawed at the ground, as if refusing the earth itself.

Kurozawa, kneeling near Khael, had just spread his palm toward the boy's chest, Shinrei pooling in his veins like a final offering. His voice was steady, though his hands trembled. "If I pour my Shinrei into him, maybe… maybe he'll live."

Raiden's lightning flared in alarm. "Master Kurozawa…" His jaw tightened, his eyes dark with fear of what that sacrifice would mean.

Zeke's molten eyes widened. His voice cracked through the tension, sharp, desperate. "Sensei!!"

But Kurozawa didn't waver. His weathered face softened, gaze on the boy he'd watched rise too fast, burn too bright. "I'm a retired Veinwalker. My sword is old, my body weary. What I can do now is only this—lead the next generation with what's left of me. And this boy…" His eyes gleamed, catching the faint sparks still clinging to Khael's broken form. "…he is a Dragon Knight. The legend reborn. If anyone can carry us forward—it's him."

And then, before he could release the flow, a voice descended like the weight of heaven itself.

"Don't."

Everyone froze.

The air bent, thickened. A single step echoed, and Master Isen appeared between them, golden aura sweeping outward like a tide. The battlefield itself seemed to bow.

Eyes widened, hearts stopped. The veterans Raiden, Zeke, Kurozawa himself lowered their heads instinctively. Even the air seemed unworthy to touch him.

"Don't sacrifice yourself, Kurozawa." His words were calm, yet carried the authority of mountains, of oceans.

All eyes locked on him.

Isen robes shimmered with black and silver threads that seemed to ripple like water, his presence so absolute that even the fractured Shinrei currents bent toward him.

Ceyla's storm-wreathed form trembled, tears still clinging to her lashes. She whispered, disbelieving, "Master Isen…"

Kaen, desperation stripping all his pride away, stumbled forward, claws curling against his palms. His voice cracked like glass. "Master… please. Please help Khael! Please save him!"

The veterans stiffened at Kaen's tone too raw, too unrefined for someone speaking to the Keiryuu.

Zeke snarled, stepping forward with molten fists. "How dare this brat—touch Master Isen with his filthy hands!"

But Isen lifted one palm, not in threat, but in gentle command. The heat in Zeke's chest sputtered and died as if snuffed by a greater fire.

"Calm down, Zeke." His gaze did not waver. His voice was not raised. Yet the rebuke struck like thunder.

Zeke bowed immediately, fists trembling, face dark with shame. "Y-Yes, Master…"

Silence rippled once more, broken only by Khael's shallow, ragged breaths.

And Isen's eyes calm blue, endless as the sky finally settled on the boy.

"Dragon Knight… You would dare burn yourself for humanity. Foolish." His voice softened, a rare flicker of warmth breaking through his steel. "But perhaps… that is what makes you my disciple."

The silence that followed Isen's words was absolute, broken only by the faint crackle of fading Shinrei in the ruined battlefield.

"Disciple…" The word echoed in every mind present like a divine decree.

To be continue

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