The sky over Technopia was no longer blue; it was the color of bruised iron. The First Great Elemental War had carved scars into the earth that no technology could heal. In the frantic, final moments of the battle, the impossible had happened.
Donald was dead.
He had fallen not to a monster, but to the frozen blade of his own friend. Robert, blinded by the dark evolution granted by the Evil Supreme God, had delivered the fatal blow. In a recursive cycle of tragedy, Erif—consumed by a white-hot grief—had lost control of his solar flares. A jagged lance of fire intended for Robert had instead struck Micheal, piercing his armor.
Two heroes were gone, their physical forms dissolving into the scorched soil of P247.
But in the universe of ILTAW, death was not an end; it was a journey.
Donald opened his eyes to a world of gray silence. There was no sun here, only a perpetual twilight filtered through a thick, clinging fog. Beside him, clutching a chest that no longer bled, stood Micheal.
"You cheater... my enemy," Donald growled, his voice echoing hollowly. Even in death, the sting of the betrayal burned.
Micheal looked down at his translucent hands, his expression one of profound sorrow. "I realized my mistakes, Donald. The evolution... it poisoned our minds. I am sorry."
Donald looked at his friend—really looked at him—and saw the same regret reflecting back. "Okay," he whispered, the anger finally cooling. "I believe you. But where are we?"
"You are in the Terra Mortis," a booming voice answered.
The fog parted to reveal a towering figure draped in robes of midnight silk. His skin was the color of bone, and he wore a crown of jagged obsidian. "I am the King of the Dead. I am Duel Mortis."
Donald stepped forward, his stubbornness surviving even the grave. "Who are you?"
Duel Mortis blinked, his dark eyes widening. "I just told you. I am the God of Death."
"Okay," Donald said flatly. "But what is your name?"
"It's me! You don't know?" the God sputtered, his divine aura flickering in confusion.
"Yes, I don't know," Donald replied, crossing his arms.
"Dona—" Micheal tried to interrupt, but Donald waved him off.
"Stop, Micheal. I am speaking with this man. Sir, don't repeat your title. Say your name."
The God of Death sighed, a sound like wind through a graveyard. "I am Duel Mortis, you foolish guy! I collect the souls and send them to Heaven or Hell based on their deeds."
He looked at a shimmering ledger in his hands. "Donald, your heart was pure, despite your temper. You did great things. Micheal, you did half good and half bad—you followed the dark path, but you died trying to protect your brothers."
"Give my body back," Donald demanded, his eyes flashing with a spectral light. "I want to help Erif. He's alone out there."
"I should also go," Micheal added. "I am good now. I have realized what we lost."
Duel Mortis leaned back on his throne of bone. "If I do this, what will I get? Souls do not simply walk out of my kingdom."
"Give us just three days," Donald pleaded. "We will complete the war and come back. We won't cheat you."
"The Second Great Elemental War is already beginning," Duel Mortis noted, peering into a pool of dark water at his feet. "But I will make you a deal. I have lost something precious. Bring me my Power Stone, and I will grant you your three days of life."
"Where is it?" Micheal asked.
"It is with Zynigami," the God replied. "My pet. He has taken it to Oagnostos Kosmos—the Unknown World. It is one light year away from here."
"Where is Oognoshus Cusmos?" Donald asked, struggling with the name.
"It's Oagnostos Kosmos," Micheal corrected. "And one light year? How can we reach that before the war ends?"
"Don't worry," Duel Mortis said, a skeletal grin spreading across his face. "I will teleport you there. But be warned: Zynigami is no longer the pet I once knew."
With a wave of his hand, a swirling violet portal tore through the gray mists. Donald and Micheal didn't hesitate. They jumped into the hollow space between worlds.
They felt as though they were moving at the speed of a tortoise, but the stars around them were blurring into long, white lines. They were traveling at one light year per hour. Exactly sixty minutes later, they touched down on a planet of crystalline dust and silent ruins.
There was no one alive. The buildings were shattered, and the air tasted of ancient fear. And then, from behind a mountain of jagged glass, they saw it.
A dragon of impossible size, its scales shimmering with the cold light of the void. The Septua Giant.
"Micheal," Donald whispered, reaching for a rock that wasn't there. "I think we're going to need a bigger plan."