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One Year of Fear – The Kingdom's Wrath
The Valkary lasted only a year.
A single, brutal year of victories, executions, and blood-soaked conquests.
To the world, they were unstoppable. A force beyond kings and gods.
But now, they were traitors.
The streets of Astria burned with fury.
Nobles and commoners alike gathered in the Grand Square, their voices echoing with rage and betrayal.
"They turned against us! Against the King!"
"Execute them! Kill the traitors!"
"Bury their corpses in the dirt!"
The air was thick with the scent of fire and fury.
And leading the manhunt—Squad Five.
---
The Blood of Comrades – Modred vs. Jean & Ana
The battlefield was stained red.
Modred stood alone, his black cloak billowing in the wind.
Before him—Jean and Ana.
But this wasn't a reunion.
This was an execution.
Ana's sword trembled in her grip, her eyes red with tears. "Why?! Why did you betray us, Modred?!"
Jean's voice cracked, his body shaking. "We fought together! We bled together! Was that all a lie?!"
Modred's grip tightened on his sword.
He could see the pain in their eyes.
And it tore at him.
But there was no other way.
Jean screamed, lunging forward. His sword sliced through the air, fueled by raw emotion.
Modred dodged, barely moving. His counterattack came fast—too fast.
A deep gash split across Jean's shoulder, blood spraying into the dirt.
Ana let out a broken cry.
"Stop holding back! If you're a traitor, then fight us like one!"
Her magic erupted—a violent storm of wind and steel.
Modred closed his eyes for a brief second.
Then—he moved.
A blur of black and crimson.
His blade pierced the storm, cutting through Ana's defenses in a heartbeat.
A sharp strike to her ribs—bone cracked.
A swift kick—her body slammed into the dirt.
Jean roared in fury, swinging wildly.
Modred sidestepped, grabbed Jean's wrist, and shattered his arm in a single motion.
Jean collapsed, a scream of agony tearing from his throat.
Blood dripped from Modred's sword.
His voice was low, rough with pain.
"Run."
Ana coughed, tears streaking down her face. "Why…? Why are you doing this?"
Modred exhaled.
"Because I don't want to kill you."
Jean gritted his teeth. "Then what are we supposed to do?"
Modred's crimson eyes burned.
"Find Captain Bran. Tell him everything. Stay alive. That's all I can give you."
Jean and Ana stared at him, their hearts breaking.
Then—they ran.
---
The Death of the Valkary – A Bloody Illusion
In the Grand Square, the nobles and citizens gathered for the execution.
Bodies were lined up, the corpses of Modred, Dante, Xeraniel, and Fenrick displayed before the crowd.
Blood pooled beneath them.
The people cheered, screamed, cursed their names.
Squad Five's commander stepped forward.
"The Valkary are dead! Justice has been served!"
The city erupted in celebration.
But in the shadows—Arthur watched.
His grip tightened around his sword, his golden eyes cold.
Because those bodies… were not real.
The clones bled like real men, their corpses warm like real flesh.
But the real Valkary?
They were already gone.
---
Aisha's Silent Goodbye – A Night of Shadows
Before everything fell apart, Modred visited her.
Aisha had waited for him, standing by the window, moonlight casting a soft glow on her skin.
She didn't cry. She didn't beg.
She simply looked at him and whispered—
"You're leaving, aren't you?"
Modred didn't lie. "Yes."
And that night, under the moonlit sky, they shared a silent farewell.
When dawn arrived—he was gone.
---
A New Identity – The Road to Exile
The carriage creaked as it rolled through the darkened streets.
Inside, Seraphina waited.
When Modred entered, she threw herself into his arms, her body trembling.
Tears soaked into his cloak.
"Don't leave me."
Modred wrapped his arms around her, his grip steady.
"I won't."
She pulled away slightly, her orange eyes filled with raw emotion.
"Swear it."
Modred brushed his fingers through her crimson hair.
His voice was low, unwavering.
"Even if the world burns, even if the gods descend—nothing will ever touch you."
Seraphina let out a shaky breath.
Then—she smiled.
Outside, Dante and Luna rode alongside them.
They were no longer warriors of a kingdom.
They were exiles. Ghosts. Phantoms.
And so—they vanished into the night.