"He moved."
Inavy's words still echoed as the mystic winds that blanketed the world began to stir. Across the dimensions, a fracture opened in the very fabric of reality, tearing through the sky like an eternal thunderclap.
Dimensional Ruin — the name had echoed among scholars as myth. Now, it was real.
From within the rift, stepping as if to crush creation itself, emerged Silas, the Prelude of Ruin.
His long white hair danced in the corrupted wind, and his violet eyes brimmed with utter contempt for all that breathed. His aura was suffocating, as though each step drained hope from the earth. He wore a torn imperial tunic — a relic from the age when he served as a Marshal under Yon. Exiled for his arrogance, he now returned as the right hand of Tyrus, bearing hatred for all Yon had ever created.
And that began with Nionderland.
Silas opened his arms in delight, and the city trembled. A vortex of black aura consumed part of the houses. Ancestral structures turned to ash. People ran, screamed, died. Silas walked among the ruins laughing, like an artist admiring his masterpiece.
— "Where is... the Heir of Chaos?" he asked, one by one, before killing them with a snap of his fingers, shaping ruinous spikes that pierced bodies like paper.
A woman begged for her life.
Silas smiled. He slowly extended his hand, ready to extinguish her.
But he was stopped.
A crushing force held his arm midair.
Silas turned his head slowly — and saw a blonde-haired young man, golden eyes burning with restrained fury, the uniform of the Phoenix Guild stained with blood and dust.
— "You want the Heir of Chaos?" said Darius Valtier, his voice deep and sharp as glass. "Then look... behind you."
Silas turned.
And Inavy's punch hit him like the thunder of world's end.
The villain was hurled dozens of meters back, crashing into the sacred stone ground and leaving a crater.
Inavy landed, his aura flickering with pure chaos, the lightning symbol on his necklace glowing.
Darius crossed his arms beside his friend.
— "You wanna dance?"
Silas stood up laughing, coughing blood.
— "Hah... so the Heir of Chaos is just a little brat. And you two will be the first to die."
He snapped his fingers.
The city streets flooded with creatures of Ruin. Twisted monsters, nightmares incarnate, began devouring everything.
Then the ground shook.
Two female silhouettes sliced the sky with beams of light.
Diana Flamesoul arrived in a burst of celestial radiance, obliterating creatures with her flaming sword.
Beside her, Rose Eldara summoned a Primordial Tidal Wave, swallowing dozens of beasts in a living wall of sentient water, roaring with soul and fury.
But Silas laughed again.
— "No more toys. Do you really think you can stand against the army of the end?"
Behind him, the earth cracked.
From it rose Vezual, the Destroyer. The Son of the End, a colossal tyrant with ashen skin, glowing eyes, and spiral black markings over his body. His aura weighed like a mountain. He stared directly at Diana and Rose.
— "You... will entertain me."
The city had become a battlefield. Chaos had begun.
And at the center, surrounded by ruin and monsters, Inavy and Darius stood side by side.
Silas hovered above, smiling, arms wide open.
— "Let us begin... the Prelude of Ruin."
Next chapter: Chapter 50 – Dance of Storms.