Renas and Thea were running hand in hand through the crowded streets—though really, it was Renas dragging Thea along.
Everyone around them was dressed as if they lived in the 1900s, impeccably elegant.
Yet the cable-car-like structures gliding above them made it obvious that this world's technology was far more advanced than anything from that era.
As they darted through the masses, people stumbled in their wake. A married couple fell to the ground, shouting after them.
Thea turned back, hand reaching out, her expression a silent I'm sorry—but before she could even speak, Renas pulled her away again. In the rush, they knocked over a child and his dog.
Under other circumstances, it might not have been such a big deal—but Renas didn't slow down. He was focused on finding a quieter street, somewhere less crowded. That wasn't easy, and more people ended up getting shoved aside before he finally broke free of the mob.
What Renas didn't notice was the man in the golden suit watching him—a figure dressed more sharply than anyone else there. The man saw everything and tapped a command into the watch on his wrist.
A reply came moments later: the contacted party was on their way.
The golden-suited man knew he had to keep eyes on them until backup arrived. That wasn't simple in a crowd like this. There was only one viable path—the long route—but he knew the responders could move fast.
Renas and Thea finally burst free from the busy streets into a quieter, wealthier district filled with low, luxurious villas. The shops and tall buildings were gone; in their place stood well-kept private homes. There were so few people around now that Renas could practically count them by hand.
For a brief moment, he thought they were safe. He glanced back—only to see three brass drones gliding after them. He could spot the glint of their lights even from the end of the street, reflected in the puddles below and the sinking sunlight above.
Each drone was built with a pointed nose for speed—fast not just because of tech, but because they were laced with magic. They closed the distance in just thirty-four seconds.
They had launched from beneath a massive arena gate, emerging through an enormous hatch. Their mission: neutralize the target or at least keep him in sight until reinforcements arrived.
Along the way, they'd caused havoc—crashing through a bakery window instead of flying around it, scraping the walls of buildings to gain momentum and leaving deep gouges in the brick. They plowed through a hot dog stand, and one drone even ended up with a hot dog skewered on its nose until it shook it off midflight.
At last, they locked onto their target: a man in strange, green clothes—clearly not from this world—carrying a classic rifle on his back and a dagger at his belt.
Renas sighed. Back before the apocalypse, he would've shaken these things off with ease. But now, he'd have to take the hard route. He'd have to use a skill.
He chose his newest one, something he'd gained after the chaos of World 774.
"Let's see what this does."
"Garden of Utapi."
The moment he invoked it, every plant around him began to grow wildly. Within a radius of about thirty meters, grass and flowers erupted from the cracks in the street, vines spilled down from buildings, and giant blossoms opened atop rooftops, shedding petals and clouds of pollen into the air.
The orange pollen shimmered visibly in the sunlight, swirling with the leaves in the wind—it was almost beautiful enough to be art.
But despite the lush beauty, Renas felt… restrained. Not empowered.
A limitation.
Not much for him personally—but for everything else?
He scanned the surroundings.
The streetlights in the villa district had all gone dark. The drones had dropped to the ground. Flowers were blooming everywhere, and the drifting pollen seemed to move in reverence to him—as if it were his own banner of authority.
He wondered what might happen if he used this alongside "Eye of Leviathan," or even underwater.
He let out a dry laugh."Haha… Thea, you didn't think I'd get rid of those drones this quickly, did you?"
"…"
"Thea?"
He turned to look for her—and saw her collapsed on the ground.
The ability keeping her alive had been tied to his own. Had deactivating it… killed her?
Panic flickered through him. He quickly released the spell. The flowers wilted, the air cleared of pollen, and the streetlights began to flicker back to life one by one as magic returned to the area.
Renas looked down at Thea, sadness flickering across his face. She still wore Kael's body—purple hair, that cursed face. The white mask was cracked and broken, hanging from her like a piece of porcelain barely clinging to a statue.
He waited for her to move.
She didn't.
Had he just killed his friend by mistake? Or had Thea simply been forced to abandon this body, escaping somewhere else? He didn't know. All he'd wanted was to fend off the drones… but instead, it became their goodbye.
He whispered a silent, hopeless wish that she wasn't dead—that they'd meet again someday. Even if he knew it wouldn't come true, he hoped anyway.
"…What a shame. She was a good one," he muttered under his breath.
He expected to hear the buzz of drones again soon.
But there was only silence. Too much of it. The entire street felt… empty, like it had been sealed off.
Renas didn't question it. He took a cautious step forward—then froze.
A sound echoed behind him. Not the hum of drones.
Music.
A full orchestra—grand, symphonic, beautiful.
Before the apocalypse, Renas had played piano, and he knew his music well. This world's classical compositions sounded different—familiar yet alien, full of strange tones and sharp transitions. It had the soul of his world's music, but something about it was… off.
He turned toward the sound.
A man stood there in a brown suit. Without his glasses, Renas couldn't make out details, but even so, the man struck him as disarmingly handsome. He could tell even through the blur.
And the impossible thing—the orchestra was coming from him. The entire performance was radiating out of a single person. Even if it were some sort of playback device, it made no sense—it sounded too real, too present.
Renas held back, hoping to talk first rather than fight. But the suited man—Charlos—made the first move.
Charlos opened his mouth slightly. His voice should've been drowned out by the music, and Renas, without his glasses, couldn't read lips—but then something strange happened.
Charlos whispered:"Orchestra of One."
The orchestra itself carried his words. The music spoke for him. Each note aligned to his syllables, his whisper becoming sound, the melody itself turning into a voice. And as he finished speaking, the music began to solidify.
Renas watched, intrigued but cautious. He didn't use Utapi's Garden again—he could cancel the ability at any time if needed. For now, he just wanted to see what would happen.
Charlos raised his right hand, and musical notes began to appear in the air, swirling like leaves in the wind. Big and small, hundreds of them moved in perfect harmony, forming a miniature storm—a vortex that didn't destroy, but concealed. Something was forming inside it.
Moments later, the storm burst apart. The notes fragmented into thousands of smaller ones, and from within, a large staff emerged—an elegant conductor's staff, landing in Charlos's hand.
Each note was made of a strange honey-like brown fluid, held together by unseen force, perfectly identical to one another. Thousands of them rose into the sky, glowing.
Renas found the sight mesmerizing—almost cinematic. He'd lost Thea moments ago, yes, but he'd convinced himself she wasn't truly dead. Like Cuhlun, she could always find another body. And even if she had died… Renas wasn't one to cling. He felt sadness, maybe—but rarely showed it. Either way, that was for another time.
He focused on the spectacle above. The classical music swelled; the notes shimmered brighter. It was beautiful.
But beauty comes with thorns.
Charlos slammed his staff against the ground.
Instantly, the thousands of notes in the sky turned into a storm of projectiles, raining down toward Renas like bullets.
Renas could use Utapi's Garden, but it would take time to activate. The faster choice—the one that worked in an instant—was, of course, Zurvan's Bell.
A thunderous chime tore through the air.
At its sound, Renas vanished. The next moment, he was behind Charlos, knife in hand.
He planned to take him hostage—to talk this out.
But there was something Renas didn't know.
Charlos's ability didn't obey his own will.
At the sound of the bell, the brown notes suddenly shifted to brilliant green, fusing into a single massive note. A Do -1. A mark beyond the deepest register of sound itself.
Renas didn't even notice; he was already lunging forward.
But the process was still unfolding—too fast to stop. The single green note transformed into a colossal bell, swallowing the sky. Charlos's staff vanished as it took form, and the bell loomed as large as a building.
When it rang, the sound eclipsed even Renas's own power—as if saying, I can do better than you.
The shockwave hit.
Renas didn't just hear the note—he felt it.
The ground split, the streets cracked, distant buildings toppled, and grass tore from the earth. Both Renas and Charlos collapsed.