The battlefield fell silent. For a moment, everything was still.
Then, the swarm began to falter. The moment the Queen Bee's body hit the ground, the Fades froze mid-attack, their movements uncertain. The sharp, unified rhythm that once guided them was gone. Confusion spread through their ranks. Some shrieked and struck at anything nearby, while others fled deeper into the fog, desperate and lost without direction. The hive had fallen, and without their Queen, they no longer knew what to do.
Dante, finally back on his feet, saw his moment. He raised his sword high, his voice loud and unsteady.
"Warriors of the safe zone! Weee…"
Before he could finish, a Fade still caught in panic slammed into him, knocking him face-first into the dirt. The few remaining fighters who weren't already collapsing turned to look, the silence that followed almost painful.
Thomas, still catching his breath, glanced over and muttered, "Didn't even get to finish his line."
Dante groaned, rolling onto his back, pride shattered. Around him, the Fades continued to scatter, their army collapsing into chaos.
Thomas stood over the Queen's body, his massive frame trembling. The fog around him began to fade, the power of his premature Stage 3 form finally slipping away. His body shrank slightly as the energy drained from him, and he dropped to one knee, gasping for air but still alive.
They had won.
But at what cost?
Only a handful of the pilgrims they had tried to save were still alive. Many had been taken before the battle even began, and others lost in the chaos. Some of the Orphans had fallen, their bodies still scattered across the battlefield. Even among Dante's elite guards, the casualties were heavy. The fight had cost more than anyone had expected.
The survivors rescued from the pilgrimage had been brought back to the safe zone before the battle, their minds still fogged by the Queen Bee's control. But when she died, the hold finally broke. One by one, they began to wake from the trance. Some cried. Others searched frantically for the families they had left behind.
"Where's my son?" one woman cried, stumbling through the crowd.
"I didn't mean to leave," another whispered, clutching her hands together.
As the truth settled in, and the memories returned, guilt took hold. Many could only stare in silence, blaming themselves for what they had done.
Elise ran through the streets, searching desperately. Then she saw her brother, barely breathing, lying among the wounded.
"Help me!" she shouted. A medic rushed over, checking his vitals.
"He's weak, but he'll live," the medic said, pressing gauze against the wound.
Elise gripped her brother's hand tightly, tears falling as she whispered, "We made it… we made it."
Marek stood frozen nearby. His mother sat among the surviving Fog Walkers, her eyes empty, staring into nothing. The woman who once smiled at him didn't even seem to recognize his voice.
"Mom?" he said quietly, his throat tight. She didn't respond.
She wasn't under control anymore, but her mind was broken. It would take time for her to recover completely. Swallowing hard, Marek knelt beside her. "We'll go home," he said softly. "I promise."
Not far away, Ezekiel moved toward a row of bodies. His son, Jonah, lay among them, still and pale. Ezekiel sank to his knees, gripping his son's cold hands. He had lost him long ago, but now it was final.
"Why didn't you listen?" he whispered. "Was it hate for me… or just blindness?"
He lowered his head. "I should've dragged you back when I still could."
The High Priest of Blood Creed bowed his head in silence, offering a prayer the dead would never hear.
Elsewhere, a merchant named Liam sat against a wall, trembling. "I thought… we were chosen," he muttered, clutching his head.
Another survivor beside him spoke quietly, voice hoarse. "We were lied to."
The words hung in the air. The illusion had shattered. The faith that once gave them hope had only led them to ruin.
Around them, the survivors stood in silence, the weight of loss pressing down on every breath. The Fog Walkers were gone. The safe zone had survived, but at a cost no one had been ready to pay.
Vell walked among them, offering quiet comfort, though she wasn't sure it helped. How could it?
A few minutes later, a soft tone echoed in Thomas's mind. The interface flashed with a new call.
"Thomas here."
"Marcus here!" The voice came through, steady but tired. "We finished things on our end. District 6, Hope City is safe!"
Thomas let out a long breath of relief. "You good?"
"Oh, I'm fine," Marcus replied, his tone light but carrying that firm, soldier's edge. "Didn't even get a scratch. Honestly, didn't have to do much. The Hayashi twins handled most of the fight. Efficient as always. Didn't even look winded when it was over."
Thomas gave a small, pained chuckle, pressing a hand to his side. "Figures."
"You sound half-dead. What the hell happened over there?"
Thomas's eyes drifted over the safe zone. The wounded were lined up, medics working frantically. Nearby, the bodies of the fallen rested in silence. Some survivors wept. Others just sat, staring blankly at what was left of the battlefield.
"We handled it," Thomas said quietly. "Costly."
Marcus paused, hearing what Thomas didn't say. "Right. We'll talk when you're back. Rest up."
The connection ended.
Thomas stood slowly, his body protesting every movement. The battle was over, but the unease in his chest didn't fade. His gaze shifted toward the fog-covered edge of the field, where Nevin lay outside the safe zone.
Nevin couldn't go inside yet. His injuries were too deep, and though his body was healing, it was slow, painfully slow. He wasn't Stage 1 yet, but his Glint power was close enough to keep him alive. It would just take time.
Thomas clenched his jaw. Nevin had been reckless, taking on the Queen alone, and now he was paying for it. Still, he had survived. That was what mattered.
Iris sat beside him, her blades resting on her lap, eyes scanning the fog. She wasn't leaving his side until he could stand again. Thomas and Bryan both knew it. Until then, they'd take turns keeping watch, guarding the area from any remaining Fades.
Thomas rolled his shoulders, feeling the weight of exhaustion sink in. The battle was done.
But their work wasn't.
From the balcony of Graves Manor, Gregor stood in silence, his hand clenched tight against the railing. The other leaders of the Blood Creed stood beside him, their expressions cold and unreadable.
They had used the Fog Walkers to tighten their control over Graves City, guiding faith and fear in equal measure while keeping their own hands clean. But now, that illusion was gone.
Even those who hadn't joined the cult had seen the cost of blind belief. The Blood Creed might not have caused the disaster directly, but they would carry its weight all the same.
They won't forget this, Gregor thought. The people have seen too much death, too much betrayal. No sermon or blessing will wash that away. All they'll remember now is the blood in the streets.
And for the first time since the Creed was founded, he wasn't sure it would survive.
Without the Fog Walkers to keep the people distracted, questions would come. Demands would follow. The Graves Family would need answers, and soon.
Gregor exhaled, his mind already turning through the damage. Restoring order in Graves Safe Zone would be far harder than rebuilding walls. The people had seen too much. If the wrong voice rose now, everything could fall apart.
His eyes lowered to the streets below, where Thomas and his crew tended to the wounded. To the people, they were heroes now.
But heroes didn't rule cities.
The Graves Family still held power, but Gregor could feel it slipping. The question wasn't if it would be challenged.
It was when.
Not far from the crowd, Thomas and Bryan sat slumped in their Hammer truck. Neither spoke. Their bodies ached from head to toe, drained of every ounce of strength. For once, even Thomas had nothing to say. Rest wasn't a choice anymore. It was all they could do.
After a while, Vell and Gale approached. Both looked worn but steady, their faces showing a mix of relief and exhaustion. Gale crossed his arms. "We get that you have some kind of information network. Can we join that?"
Bryan blinked, still half-asleep. "Oh, you mean The Web. Yeah, of course. It connects groups like yours to others. You can share updates, warnings, anything useful. Help if you can, but there's no pressure."
Vell and Gale exchanged a look before nodding. "That's exactly what we need," Vell said. "We're in."
Thomas, eyes barely open, lifted a tired thumbs-up. "Good choice." After a pause, he added, "Now find me information on good places to eat. Hehe."
Bryan sighed. "Unbelievable. We just survived a war, and that's what you want?"
"Priorities," Thomas muttered, already leaning back against the seat.
Across the city, Dante sat alone in his mansion. The candlelight flickered across polished walls and silent halls. His bruises throbbed, his pride worse. He stared out the window, watching the quiet streets below, his fingers tapping slowly against the armrest.
This wasn't over. Not for him.