The throne room became a blur of motion and violence.

Julian and Darwin collided like two storms meeting over an ocean. Neither gave ground. Neither blinked.

Darwin came first, his crimson liquid already streaming from his palms, coalescing into a blade that hummed with killing intent. He swung for Julian’s throat. Julian ducked, the blade passing so close it severed a few strands of his black hair. He countered with his own sword, black steel wrapped in shadow, aiming for Darwin’s ribs.

Darwin’s body dissolved.

The blade passed through crimson liquid that splashed and reformed an instant later, Darwin’s smiling face emerging from the red haze.

"Too slow," Darwin said.

He kicked Julian in the chest.

Julian flew backward, crashed into a marble pillar, and was on his feet before the dust settled. His dark blue eyes were calm, calculating. He touched his chest cracked ribs, maybe. [Regeneration] would handle it, but not instantly.

[Lightning].

Blue-white arcs leaped from Julian’s hands, not aimed at Darwin, but at the floor beneath him. The marble cracked, sending shards flying. Darwin danced between them, his crimson liquid forming a shield that deflected the debris.

"Lightning," Darwin said, almost admiringly. "Gravity. Shadow. Mind control. Regeneration." He ticked them off on his fingers. "How many skills do you have, Ghost?"

Julian didn’t answer. He was already moving.

[Boost] + [Lightning] combined.

His speed doubled. Tripled. He crossed the distance between them in a fraction of a second, his sword leading, his free hand crackling with electricity.

Darwin’s eyes widened and he raised his crimson liquid in a desperate block.

The sword bit into the liquid. The lightning followed, arcing through the red haze, finding Darwin’s physical form beneath.

Darwin screamed.

Not in pain. In excitement.

The crimson liquid exploded outward, throwing Julian back. Darwin stood in the center of the blast zone, his clothes shredded, his red hair wild, his gray eyes blazing. Across his chest, a wound was already closing, the lightning had burned him, but not deeply enough.

"Good," Darwin said, breathing hard. "That’s good. I was starting to think you were overrated."

Julian wiped blood from his lip. "You talk too much."

"Only to people who might listen." Darwin raised his hands. The crimson liquid flowed from his palms, not as a blade this time, but as a mist. A red fog that spread across the throne room, obscuring vision, coating everything in a thin layer of sticky, metallic-smelling vapor.

Julian’s instincts screamed. [Shadow]—he melted into the darkness beneath a fallen banner, avoiding the mist’s touch.

Darwin laughed.

"Hiding won’t save you," he called out. "The mist is everywhere. Every breath you take, every step you make, you’re inhaling me."

Julian materialized twenty meters away, his lungs burning. He hadn’t inhaled deeply, but some of the mist had gotten through. He felt it, a foreign presence in his bloodstream, trying to latch onto his mutations, trying to take control.

[Indomitable Body].

His body rejected the intrusion. The crimson particles were forced out through his pores, evaporating into harmless steam.

Darwin’s smile faltered. "You... how did you..."

"Your blood doesn’t control me," Julian said quietly. "Nothing controls me."

He raised his sword.

[Gravity] + [Shadow] + [Lightning].

The three skills merged, swirling around the blade like a vortex of impossible energy. The black steel crackled with blue-white arcs. Shadows writhed along its edge. And at its tip, gravity bent light, creating a shimmering distortion.

Darwin’s gray eyes locked onto the blade. For the first time, something other than arrogance flickered across his face. Caution. Maybe even fear.

"That skill," Darwin said slowly. "I’ve heard rumors. Void Sphere. The one that killed Corvin."

Julian didn’t confirm or deny. He simply walked forward, the blade humming.

Darwin raised his crimson liquid, forming a wall of red between them thick, dense, pulsating like a living heart.

"I’m not Corvin," Darwin said. "I won’t stand still and let you hit me."

Julian swung.

The blade struck the crimson wall. For a moment, nothing happened. Then the wall shattered. The Void-enhanced edge didn’t cut, it erased. Every molecule of crimson liquid that touched the blade simply ceased to exist.

Darwin leaped backward, his eyes wide.

"Impossible."

Julian pursued. His speed was inhuman now, Boost and Lightning pushing his body to its limits. He swung again. Darwin dodged, but the blade’s wake caught his arm. The flesh didn’t bleed. It vanished. A chunk of Darwin’s forearm simply... wasn’t there anymore.

Darwin stared at the missing flesh, then at Julian.

"You’re not just fighting me," Darwin whispered. "You’re fighting reality itself."

Julian raised the blade for a final strike.

Darwin’s gray eyes hardened.

"No."

His body exploded into crimson liquid, not a partial transformation, but a complete dissolution. Every drop of blood, every cell, every atom became part of the red tide. The liquid surged forward, wrapping around Julian, covering him, suffocating him.

Julian couldn’t see. Couldn’t breathe. The crimson liquid pressed against his skin, his eyes, his mouth, trying to force its way inside.

[Indomitable Body] held, but barely. His lungs burned. His vision darkened.

[Lightning].

He released everything.

Blue-white light erupted from every pore of his body, turning the crimson liquid into steam, blasting it away in all directions. The throne room was illuminated in a flash of pure, blinding electricity.

When the light faded, Julian stood alone in a circle of scorched marble. His clothes were smoking. His hair was singed. But he was standing.

Twenty meters away, Darwin reformed. He was on one knee, gasping, his body covered in burns. The missing chunk of his forearm had regenerated, but slowly. Too slowly.

Darwin looked up at Julian.

And laughed.

It started as a cough, then a chuckle, then a full-throated roar of genuine, joyful laughter.

"Magnificent," Darwin said, rising to his feet. "Absolutely magnificent. I haven’t felt this alive in years."

Julian’s dark blue eyes narrowed. "You’re losing."

"Losing?" Darwin spread his arms, revealing his burns, his wounds, his exhaustion. "Yes. I’m losing. But do you know what that means?"

He took a step forward. Then another.

"It means I’ve finally found someone worth fighting. Someone worth killing." His gray eyes blazed. "Someone worth becoming."

The crimson liquid flowed from his wounds, not attacking, but absorbing pulling energy from the air, from the ground, from the very light in the room. Darwin’s body began to change. His muscles swelled. His skin darkened. The scar on his forehead split open, revealing a third eye, red, pupil-less, and hungry.

"The Ghost," Darwin said, his voice deeper now, resonant, "will be my greatest trophy."

Julian raised his blade.

"Try."

The clash against Carol was a storm of steel, shadow, and desperation.

Emma was down. Her skin was pale, her lips blue, her breath shallow. Fey had dragged her behind a shattered column, propping her up where she could watch but not fight.

"Stay," Fey said, her voice leaving no room for argument. "Rest. We’ll handle her."

Emma’s eyes fluttered. "Fey..."

"No arguments."

Fey turned and walked back into the fight.

Zoe was already engaging Carol, her beast form a blur of black fur and golden fury. Claws met blades. Teeth met fists. Carol was fast, her red eyes tracking Zoe’s every movement, her twin obsidian blades dancing in arcs that left trails of dark light.

"Beast Form," Carol said, dodging a lunge. "Impressive. But predictable."

She spun, one blade slashing across Zoe’s flank. Zoe yelped, blood spraying, but didn’t retreat. She bit down on Carol’s wrist, and wrenched.

Carol hissed, but didn’t drop the weapon. Instead, she drove her knee into Zoe’s ribs, forcing the wolf to release. Zoe stumbled back, shifting to human form, gasping.

"You’re persistent," Carol said, examining the teeth marks on her arm. "I’ll give you that."

"My name is Zoe," Zoe said quietly. "Bitch."

Carol’s red eyes narrowed. "Does it matter?"

"To him, it does." Zoe’s golden eyes flicked toward Julian for just a moment.

"Ah." Carol smiled. "You’re in love."

Zoe’s jaw tightened. "You talk too much."

"So I’ve been told."

Fey attacked from the side.

[Liquid].

Not water this time, the throne room’s fountains were empty. But the air itself held moisture, and Fey pulled every drop she could find, condensing it into a spinning vortex of razor-sharp ice crystals. The vortex shot toward Carol.

Carol laughed. She raised her blades and stepped into the vortex. The ice crystals shattered against her weapons, her arms, her face but she didn’t stop. She walked through the storm like it was nothing, her red eyes fixed on Fey.

"You’re strong," Carol said, emerging from the vortex with frost on her eyelashes. "But you’re not fast."

She lunged.

Fey barely dodged. The blade passed so close it sliced through her blue hair, leaving a few strands floating in the air. Fey stumbled back, her hands raised, trying to summon more liquid but the air was dry now. She had used everything.

"No more tricks?" Carol tilted her head. "Pity."

She swung again.

Zoe intercepted. Her human fist slammed into Carol’s jaw, snapping the woman’s head to the side. Carol recovered instantly, her red eyes blazing, and kicked Zoe in the stomach. Zoe doubled over.

Dori fired.

Three shots. Three bullets aimed at Carol’s chest.

Carol moved. Not dodging, flowing. Her body twisted in ways that shouldn’t have been possible, the bullets passing through empty air where her vital organs had been a moment before.

"Nice try," Carol said.

She was about to advance on Dori when Zoe grabbed her ankle.

Carol looked down. Zoe’s golden eyes were burning, her fingers digging into Carol’s skin.

"Not done yet," Zoe growled.

Carol raised her blade to end it.

Fey moved.

She didn’t have liquid. She didn’t have ice. She had her body thin, deceptively strong, trained in the brutal close-quarters combat of the wasteland. She slammed into Carol from the side, wrapping her arms around the woman’s waist and driving her into the floor.

They rolled. Fey’s elbow connected with Carol’s face. Carol’s knee connected with Fey’s ribs. They separated, both gasping.

Carol was first to her feet. Her red eyes were wild now, her composure cracking.

"You’re all so... irritating," she spat.

Fey rose slowly, her ribs screaming. "Good."

Carol raised both blades. The obsidian edges began to glow, dark red, like blood heated to boiling.

"Ultimate skill," Carol said, her voice dropping to a whisper. "Crimson Reaper’s Waltz."

The air around her shimmered. Her shadow stretched, twisted, split. Five copies of Carol emerged from the darkness, each one holding identical blades, each one with the same red eyes, the same murderous smile.

"Seven of me before," Carol said. "Now five. But five is enough."

The copies spread out, surrounding Fey, Zoe, and Dori.

Zoe shifted into her beast form again, her body aching, her wounds weeping blood. Dori raised her pistol, her hands steady despite everything. Fey stood empty-handed, her liquid reserves gone, her body battered.

Carol raised her hand.

"Dance."

The copies attacked.

Zoe met the first one, claws against blade, fur against shadow. She tore through it, but two more took its place. Dori fired, her bullets passing through the copies as if they weren’t there. They were illusions but the real Carol was among them, waiting, watching.

Fey closed her eyes.

She couldn’t see the real Carol. But she could feel her. The moisture in Carol’s body, all of it was liquid. All of it was Fey’s to command.

[Liquid].

Carol’s eyes widened. She felt it, the blood in her veins slowing, thickening, turning against her. Her heart stuttered. Her muscles locked.

"No—"

Fey opened her eyes. "Found you."

The real Carol stumbled, her copies flickering and vanishing. She raised her blade to strike Fey down, but her arm wouldn’t obey. The blood in her bicep had turned to sludge.

Zoe lunged. Her jaws closed on Carol’s sword arm and bit down. Bone cracked. The blade clattered to the floor.

Carol screamed.

Dori fired.

The bullet struck Carol’s left shoulder. She spun, dropping the second blade.

Fey collapsed, her skill exhausted. She had nothing left.

Carol stood, wounded, disarmed, but not dead. Her red eyes blazed with fury.

"You think this ends me?" Carol laughed, a wet, bloody sound. "I’ve survived worse."

She raised her hand, calling her shadow to form a new blade.

Zoe shifted back to human form. Her body was trembling. Her golden eyes were dim.

"No," Zoe said quietly. "You haven’t survived us."

She stepped forward.

Carol swung her shadow blade.

Zoe caught it.

With her bare hand.

The shadow blade cut deep but she held it. She held it and pulled Carol close, their faces inches apart.

"Now," Zoe whispered.

Dori’s pistol was already raised.

The bullet struck Carol’s heart.

Carol’s red eyes widened. Her mouth opened. Blood bubbled from her lips.

"Master..." she whispered.