Beneath the blazing sun, a lone figure stood, umbrella in hand. Surrounded by a sea of Ethereal, Phaga quietly extended his left hand—the one marked by a blade's cut—and stepped out from the umbrella's shadow, exposing it to the light.
In that instant, his blood surged like a tide. His heart gave a sharp tremor, and his entire left arm swelled violently.
Blood surged toward a single point. His skin pulsed and swelled, like soil about to birth a bud—then burst upward.
Shhh!
At last, several fine veins could no longer contain the boiling pressure within. They burst apart one by one, spraying jets of blood high into the air like crimson fountains.
Not far away, two vast swarms of Ethereal—one gold and one black—stood apart yet gathered for the same purpose. And now, moved by the same strange impulse, they all stared blankly upward as the blood droplets separated from the streams, hanging in dense, glittering suspension across the sky.
"Shame it's not night… and that my opponents aren't human. The energy cost is still too high."
Beneath that crimson canopy, Phaga's palm had already healed.
Closing his eyes, he muttered softly, "Good thing I fed a few times recently. Otherwise, I wouldn't even have enough strength to start this technique."
Then, almost as an afterthought: "Poor Ellen though... maybe I'll let her bite back later?"
The moment that thought crossed his mind, a chill shot through his whole body, as if some terrible memory had resurfaced.
"No—that door must never be opened."
"…No, this isn't the time to be thinking about that."
He murmured to himself as his eyes slowly opened—his pupils now glowing a deep, bloody red, the exact color of his own blood.
Roar!
At last, one Ethereal could no longer bear the crushing pressure of the hovering crimson orbs. With a roar, it raised an arm like a blade and charged at Phaga without hesitation.
Moments later, the rest of the horde realized what had drawn them together and erupted into a deafening chorus of fury.
Close-combat types led the charge, while the four-legged, yellow-skinned metallic ones planted their proud cannons into the ground, the dark muzzles flaring with Ether light.
Boom!
A volley of Ether beams shot out all at once—so dense they outpaced the charging melee units. The light was blinding, blotting out even the sun itself.
"Thank you."
Just as the Ether beams were about to strike, Phaga let the parasol slip gently from his hand. It fluttered to the ground, leaving him standing alone in the clearing, a faint smile on his lips.
He bowed gracefully.
"To know that vampires despise the sunlight and still shield me from it... Truly, I'm grateful."
The moment his words ended, the leading Ether beam froze just short of his face—halted by a single droplet of blood.
And not just that beam. Every single one of the hundreds—thousands—of Ether rays in the air had stopped, each held in place by a hovering droplet of crimson.
It was as if time itself had been locked.
"[Blazing Sacrifice]."
Phaga's voice was calm, low—and deadly.
Vwoom!
Each droplet flared into fire, racing back along the frozen beams. Before the melee Ethereal could even reach him, their allies in the rear were engulfed, their screams piercing the air as they thrashed and burned into ash.
The flames roared so hot that even the frontliners stopped dead in their tracks, staring wide-eyed as the light from their comrades' [Cores] dimmed into nothingness.
Straightening from his bow, Phaga lifted his parasol again. The gleam under his monocle flared with a sharp, predatory light.
"Don't look back," he murmured. "No need to envy them. You'll have your turn soon."
Before the Ethereal could react, the countless droplets hanging above fell like crimson rain, striking each target precisely—two blazing holes per body, at minimum.
Fwoosh!
The flames burst once more. It was only a matter of seconds before the entire horde was gone.
Phaga turned his head slightly, blood still pulsing faintly beneath his skin. He raised his chin, the sharp lines of his butler's uniform lending him a regal air.
He said coldly, "Send the signal."
Pile Driver Friday froze for two seconds before jolting back to life and transmitting the signal.
At that same moment, a message crackled through the comms.
"Friday, how's it going with Phaga? Do you need reinforcements?" came a woman's voice.
Friday scanned the area—the ground littered with Ether fragments swirling upward, encircling the lone man at the center.
The sight overloaded his logic core for a split second. Then, without meaning to, it replied, "The Ethereals could really use reinforcements."
"Friday, do you even hear yourself? Grace! What kind of repair job did you do?!"
The voice on the other end changed—still female, but sharper and far more irritated.
"I... I..."
Friday tried to explain, but the scene before him was so overwhelming that no straightforward—or non-cringe—description came to mind.
"Stay focused on the relay station. I'll handle the talking... Hey, Ellen."
Before Friday could dig himself in deeper, Phaga's calm voice cut in over the channel.
"Area secured. The Ethereal are down. Relay's active—proceed on your end."
Friday brightened instantly, his screen flickering with gratitude.
"A noble and kind soul! A shining light in this grand journey—your legacy shall live forever!"
...
"Yeah, yeah, got it."
Ellen dropped her earpiece and shoved aside the swooning Greta from her display with one hand. Her voice was cool and composed.
"Phaga says their side's wrapped up. If we're all set here, we can start."
Grace nodded approvingly as her fingers danced across the datapad. Then, with a light tap, she sent the signal.
Like a stone dropped into a still pond, electromagnetic waves rippled outward, ring after ring spreading through the Hollow.
As long as the prototype was still within range, it would receive Grace's transmission and respond, revealing its exact position.
"Perfect. Now it's my turn."
A male voice echoed from within Eous. Miles away, in the video store, Wise pulled up a chair beside Belle.
As he crunched the data, he said, "Fairy, bring up the Old Capital map."
[Fairy: Retrieving Old Capital data...]
[Fairy: Data acquired. Note—The Old Capital has long fallen. Terrain deformation caused by the Ethereal is incalculable. The reconstructed map is based on surveillance footage from the day of the collapse.]
"That'll do... If the calculations are correct, the prototype's location should be right... here."
Wise tapped the table, then zoomed in repeatedly until the map revealed a central square—and a tall, towering spire.
Belle leaned closer, bundled the map data, and sent it to everyone within the Hollow.
Phaga glanced at the display in his hand, then tapped Friday's display gently. "Let's go."
"Yes! Wherever your heart leads, I shall follow—life or death!"
"Let's not get dramatic... but yes, let's move."
...
Phaga didn't care much about the location—but Belobog Heavy Industries did.
Anton and Koleda turned to look at Big Ben, confused by his uncharacteristic expression.
But Ben paid no attention to them. He just stared at his phone screen, his face pale.
"This... this... how could it be there?" he muttered in disbelief.