As he lifted Its chin with blood-stained fingers, the Bahamut’s crimson eyes flickered upward. Consumed by the desire to gouge out those eyes that dared share Veronica’s ruby hue, he continued, “Let me make a prophecy of my own. No matter how perfectly you mimic humanity, you will never truly become like us. Even if each of your kind develops individual consciousness, the outcome remains unchanged. You’ll annihilate yourselves in miserable fashion while slaughtering one another—because you fundamentally lack what’s most essential to coexistence.”
Humanity had secured victory in this war eons ago. The outcome had nothing to do with whether Leon and Veronica could physically vanquish the First Bahamut.
A realm populated solely by selfish beings would inevitably collapse into isolation. How could entities incapable of empathizing with or comprehending others’ suffering ever hope to forge a lasting civilization?
The Bahamuts would not survive beyond a single generation.
As Leon finished his declaration and lowered the hand that had been gripping the creature’s chin, the air surrounding them began to violently churn from below. Leon knew he had kindled the First Bahamut’s unbridled wrath.
It doesn’t matter, he thought with grim acceptance. His journey would end here. He only prayed for a warrior’s death that wouldn’t shame his brothers watching from beyond—a death agonizing enough to atone for surviving a year longer than they did, yet merciful enough that Veronica wouldn’t grieve too much for his passing.
Leon took a measured step back. Before he could even raise his divine blade to guard, a Bahamut lunged at him with razor fangs bared in a lightning assault.
Metal screamed against bone as he deflected the shark-like teeth with Apocalypse, his boots skidding backward across the bloodstained ground. The dozens of teeth gnawing at his blade, attempting to wear down its enchanted edge, suddenly fractured and shattered like crystal just as he adjusted his grip on the hilt. Leon seized the opening and thrust his sword deep into the creature’s gullet before wrenching upward, splitting its skull in two.
A crimson fountain erupted skyward as from a severed artery. Blood in battle served as nature’s most primal signal flare; Bahamuts swarmed from all directions as if summoned by the scent, their twisted forms blotting out the light.
A predatory smile crossed Leon’s face—he thrived in these odds. His merciless blade carved elegant arcs through flesh, each swing claiming multiple foes. A knight’s oath was merely the most honorable mantle bestowed upon a sanctified killer. He wielded Apocalypse with deadly grace, intent on raging against the darkness until his final heartbeat faded.
If only It hadn’t hurled itself into his blade’s deadly trajectory.
Damn it!
Several strands of raven hair scattered into the air as Apocalypse halted mere inches from Veronica’s delicate neck. Leon’s face contorted in horror as he wrenched his body violently backward.
He had glimpsed openings to slay the First Bahamut countless times already, but had deliberately let each opportunity pass. He couldn’t bear to inflict even the slightest wound upon Veronica’s form. He had restrained his every movement out of paralyzing fear that she might suffer the tiniest harm. But now…
“What are you doing?” Leon hissed in disbelief, frozen in place.
The First Bahamut had retrieved a jagged arm bone and was raising Its slender hand high. Before any thought could fully crystallize in his mind, the bone fragment plunged deep into Its pale thigh.
Though physically impossible from this distance, Leon would swear upon his soul he heard Veronica’s anguished scream echoing from somewhere deep within the cave.
He froze, his heart turning to ice. His blood ran cold.
“Throw away your blade,” It commanded.
The creature smiled with Veronica’s lips and wrenched the bone free. Crimson rivulets cascaded down Its porcelain skin. While Leon remained momentarily paralyzed with horror, Its delicate arm rose high once more. This time, the target was Its flat, vulnerable abdomen. No choice remained—Leon hurled Apocalypse to the ground, curses dying on his tongue.
The improvised weapon that had been slicing mercilessly through the air halted a hair’s breadth from piercing flesh. A deathly silence descended beyond the abruptly stilled hand.
The creature rolled those blood-red eyes toward the divine sword embedded in the stone floor. With deliberate steps, It approached and extracted the blade, eyes traveling from the gleaming tip to the ornate pommel as if in admiration.
Leon remained motionless despite anticipating the creature’s next action with perfect clarity. If he attempted escape, Veronica would suffer in his stead. And so his own sacred blade helplessly pierced its master’s side.
As he drew in a ragged breath, the sword was viciously withdrawn, and his towering frame doubled over in agony. White-hot fire erupted through his torso as crimson life essence seeped through his fingers. No respite was granted to tend his mortal wound. As if this were merely the opening act in a grand tragedy, the blade repeatedly impaled him without mercy. Behind his knee, through his shoulder—until Leon staggered and could no longer maintain his footing. A Bahamut approached and, mimicking its master, seized his throat and pinned him against a crumbling pillar.
The same bone fragment that had violated Veronica’s flesh was driven brutally into his abdomen. He hung suspended, skewered in mid-air. Blood cascaded from his lips in crimson waves, his battle-hardened body convulsing violently against the unyielding stone. His oxygen-starved lungs fought desperately, struggling with fading strength to capture even one more precious breath. His vision alternated between clarity and murky darkness.
Eventually, Apocalypse was drawn back to deliver the final judgment upon its fallen master. The blade’s arc unfolded with nightmarish slowness, as if the very fabric of time sought to prolong his final moments.
Death approached. The final curtain was falling. In terms of suffering, his end would surely be remembered as a masterpiece of agony.
His sole regret in this fading life was, inevitably, Veronica. There were countless things he had dreamed of doing for her since that first fateful meeting. He had yearned to craft her a warm hearth to banish memories of stormy nights that once filled her with dread, to entwine his fingers with hers and wander through festival-lit streets—a simple joy she had never experienced with her own family.
I wish fate had woven our threads differently, his heart cried out to her. Even if our paths had crossed later in life, I wish I could have known you in a realm untainted by the Bahamuts’ shadow. Not a single sin stains your soul, beloved. When I stand before the eternal judgment, I will testify with my dying breath that, if damnation must claim someone, it should fall upon me, not—
A piercing metallic shriek shattered the air, sending ripples of sound cascading outward like stones in still water. His final confession to her splintered alongside the screech of metal clashing against its twin.
His fading crimson eyes widened in disbelief before the blinding flash of steel meeting steel. Leon beheld the slender back of the woman who had thrown herself before him, intercepting the killing blow meant to end his life. As the two divine blades met in violent communion, celestial sparks erupted where their edges kissed.