BOOM.

The high wall caging the Yakumi-styled wooden mansion exploded inward, stone and timber scattering like broken teeth.

A flood of flames washed through the breach scorching everything it touched. The shadows caught in its path didn't simply die. They burned, their forms consumed so completely that only ash remained. The charred remnants fell like black rain, scattered across the garden grass of the mansion's outer yard.

Flames spread from the corpses, crawling across the manicured lawn.

Through the inferno, two horses emerged.

Obsidians. Moving with purpose and grace even as fire licked at their hooves.

On one sat a woman wreathed in flames, a blazing figure that seemed less human and more elemental force barely contained in flesh.

On the other, an armed general, her twin scythes gleaming in the firelight.

The ancient one's gaze fell upon the new arrivals.

His expression remained sorrowful. After all, he now had three more names to add to the list of people he would have to kill before dawn ended.

The wielder of Sovereign(IV) aura looked down at her right-hand woman on the ground, then at the ancient figure standing before her.

The Obsidians came to an immediate halt, hooves striking earth with finality.

Cassandra's feet touched the ground. In the next instant, a circle of flames erupted around Ilya, forming a protective barrier that shimmered with controlled heat.

"Cass..." Ilya's voice cracked, raw from crying. Her face was red and swollen, streaked with tears and blood.

"It's okay." Cassandra's voice was steady, commanding, the voice of someone trying to impose order on chaos. "I will find a way to..."

Ilya shook her head, cutting off whatever reassurance her Duchess had been about to offer.

Then she pointed.

Cassandra's eyes followed the direction of that trembling finger.

A few feet away, Sera and Lydia were hunched over something, their bodies shaking with silent sobs. Crimson pooled beneath them... too much blood.. far too much, but Sera's back blocked whatever they were holding.

'Is it Merin?'

The thought came automatically.

Cassandra moved, circling to get a better angle, to see past Sera's back.

Merin was off to the side, still alive, her soulless eyes already resigned to whatever fate awaited her.

Cassandra's gaze returned to the weeping pair.

And she saw it. Something that didn't even occur to her..

The chain that hung from the hilt of the sword. The blade buried deep in Rune's chest.

The same black chain.

The same position.

Memory slammed into her... her father pinned to the pillar, that same chain dangling, that same terrible stillness of death that could not be undone.

Her heart stuttered. Skipped. Raced.

'It's okay,' she told herself firmly, desperately. 'Prisoners die all the time.'

No death after her father's had ever fazed her. She'd built walls around that pain, locked it away where it couldn't touch her.

'Such is the fate of a forgotten warrior's legacy.'

She forced the thought through her mind like medicine. The flames dancing around the garden came to a halt.

'He's just some nobody from a backwater village.'

Her jaw clenched. Her fists tightened at her sides.

She didn't notice the flames beginning to seep up from her legs, forming small whirlwinds that spiraled upward from the bottom, growing with each passing second.

'That's right. He's just a pawn who happened to...'

But before she could finish the thought, her mouth moved without permission.

Her face twisted with an anger that shocked even her... rage for someone she'd met only days ago, fury that had no logical explanation and emotional justification.

"You old dog!" Her voice cut through the dawn like a blade. "Haven't you clung to your pitiful life long enough?!"

The venom in her words was palpable, directed entirely at the obvious culprit standing before her.

The Sword King.

The ancient warrior simply smiled... a tired, weary expression that spoke of centuries carrying burdens no one should bear.

"I am," he said softly, his eyes full of genuine sorrow, agreeing with the young Sovereign's venomous assessment.

And that agreement only made Cassandra angrier.

The small whirlwinds around her legs suddenly blazed brighter, growing impossibly fast. They merged, intensified, expanded until a single massive tornado of fire erupted around her, reaching from earth to sky.

A pillar of flame at the heart of Raven Spire, illuminating the capital more brilliantly than dawn's first light ever could.

General Kael, who'd been rushing forward to support her Duchess, skidded to a halt. Her aura flared defensively, a desperate shield against the flesh-scorching heat radiating from the inferno.

The protective flames around Ilya shifted, forming an insulated barrier that kept the external heat at bay.

Understanding the mechanism, Ilya ran toward the weeping pair... toward Sera and Lydia and Rune's body.

The Sword King let her go.

After all, as long as they didn't plan to run, he could kill them later. Let them grieve first. Even executioners could show that much mercy.

The flames extended their protection to Rune and his friends, wrapping them in a cocoon of controlled fire that burned away nothing but kept everything else at bay.

Merin jerked back to awareness, the sting of scorching heat pulling her from her soulless despair. She didn't understand what was happening or why there was a massive tornado of fire before her.

But her brain registered one crucial thing.

The collar was no longer preventing her from using her powers.

She immediately wrapped herself in layers of wind and aura, desperately trying to shield herself from the scorching heat of a seventh-circle fire attribute wielder.

Under normal circumstances, she couldn't. She was only a third-circle wind user, and her Master(IV) aura was her only lifeline against something this overwhelming.

But the heat was barely bearable.

'Is she controlling even the heat from her flames?'

The realization struck Merin like a revelation. The heat from that blazing tornado should have scorched every soul within its radius, yet somehow it remained just on the edge of bearable, as if the Duchess was deliberately holding back the full force of her power.

'The Sinclairs are terrifying.'

In all the commotion, only one pair of eyes remained untouched by the scorching tornado's wrath.

The Sword King watched the pillar of flame with something like pride.

He'd trained this child himself, once upon a time. Watched her grow from a girl with potential into the wielder of the inferior variant of his own divine gift. The wielder of Sword Saint(S).

'The child has grown strong, hasn't she, Pozhar?'

His gaze turned sorrowful, heavy with the weight of history and bonds that complicated everything.

'Why must you come here, daughter of my dear disciple?'

His old, ancient eyes, eyes that had seen empires rise and fall, filled with a grief that had no outlet.

'Is there no redemption for this old dog..?'

In contrast, the eyes of the young Sovereign blazed with vitality. With a furious, burning need for revenge over the death of someone she'd met barely a week ago.

An emotion she'd given up trying to understand.

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