If there had been even a shred of doubt left in Rog’s heart, it was gone now—completely and utterly.

He stared fixedly at the young man he’d followed for years. Maybe Mondo felt the weight of that gaze, because he turned slightly, glancing back at him.

And what a glance it was. Those deep, shadowed eyes held too many emotions to name. In that moment, Rog didn’t see a proud youth. He saw someone old. Ancient. Tired.

…And then he realized—Mondo had always looked that way.

He had never seen light in the man’s eyes. Even when everyone smiled under the sun, Mondo’s world had always remained dark.

But he’d hidden it too well.

In Rog’s memories, the man had always been smiling—sarcastic when laughing, angry when laughing, mocking when laughing, even when hurting, he still laughed. His presence was arrogant, untouchable. But the slight curl of his lips had a gravity of its own. No matter how much someone disliked him, no one could deny that this man had the kind of face that could ruin a soul.

Too many had been blinded by that charm, thinking he must be carefree, invincible, above it all.

Too few had realized: in all those smiles, there had never been joy. Only bitterness, sharp laughter, resignation—never happiness.

Rog had followed this man for nearly ten years. And now, for the first time, he realized he had never once seen Mondo truly smile.

—Did you ever really know him? The man you swore loyalty to—who is he?
What does he carry on his back?
What memories has he buried in his heart?
When you were chasing after him all those years, who was he looking toward?

Rog didn’t know.

He thought his loyalty was steadfast, thought their friendship unbreakable…
But it had all been so shallow.

Shame. Guilt. Heartache. They tore through him. He tried to speak, but couldn’t form the words. He raised a hand toward that figure ahead of him—subconsciously, helplessly.

But before it could reach even the edge of Mondo’s coat, a wave of force swept the world clean.

Sea-salted wind burst across the beach, heavy with moisture, scattering the air like a tide. Everyone felt it—like they were suddenly hurled upward by a fierce gust, lifted from the pressure of brine and sorrow and hurled into crisp sky and cloud.

Rog lowered the hand shielding his face.
He opened his eyes—and Mondo was gone.

Panic rose—but before he could feel its full weight, his vision was filled with black.

—A black so pure it felt infinite. Like night. Like space. Like the silence between galaxies.

Before them hovered a colossal black dragon.

There were dragons in the current universe. But this… this wasn’t the same. It was older. Wilder. Vaster. Cloaked in something unknowable and ancient. And unmistakably, far more powerful.

“Mondo…” Rog whispered. Somehow, without needing to be told—he just knew.

The dragon turned its gaze upon them.

All the soldiers, all the warships—everything looked like paper in comparison. Fragile. Insignificant.

The disciplined ranks fell into disarray instantly. But the dragon’s gaze remained calm, heavy with sorrow and acceptance. Its voice rolled like embers in the dark.

“Rog. Lead the troops to the Four-Pillar Tower. I’ll hold this ground.”

This was no longer a superior giving orders. It was a plea—honest and quiet.

Not because he expected obedience. But because he knew they might not trust him. So he asked—knowing they might not listen.

But he pointed the way. All the same.

Rog sensed the hesitation in the ranks. He clenched his fists. Eyes rimmed red, he stood tall, and saluted the dragon with perfect military form. His voice echoed for all to hear.

“——Understood, sir!”

Suspended in the sky, the great black dragon stood like the world’s last fortress.
He faced the blood and the chaos alone.

And the soldiers, one by one, paused. Then saluted too.

A silent, sweeping farewell to the dragon facing down the ocean’s monsters.

“——All units, retreat!”
Rog’s command resounded. The troops on the beach moved at once—efficient, focused.

The beast standing on the sea’s surface didn’t move to stop them. Or maybe it simply didn’t care. It knew none of them would escape it in the end.

What it cared about—was the black dragon.

It sneered.
“Look at you. Reduced to this. Entangled with ants.”

“I told you. What he doesn’t care about, I’ll care for. What he wants to protect, I’ll protect.” The black dragon’s voice deepened.
“If you’re awake now, go make your home somewhere else. Stay here if you want, I won’t stop you. But—”

The dragon’s voice dropped like a blade.
“—Don’t cause trouble.”

The sea beast laughed.
“You decide what’s good and evil, what’s right and wrong. I’m always the problem, aren’t I?”

The black dragon smiled. “Heh. Looks like ten thousand years of sleep taught you some self-awareness.”

They had known each other too long. Had been at odds for far too long.

The sea beast’s eyes chilled. “Your tongue’s gotten sharp.”

“Well, I’ve had ten thousand years of wandering. Had to learn something.”

“Then I hope you learned how to die properly too. You’ll need it.”

Words were meaningless now.

The sea beast roared—and the oceans surged.

The entire sea answered.

The water-based primal beasts charged like a tidal army.

The black dragon’s smile vanished. His crimson eyes blazed.

With one sweep of his tail, he sent the first beast hurtling backward.
His scales were steel. His might, unshakable.

The tail lashed again—cutting through flesh like a scythe. Blood sprayed in thick arcs, drenching the beasts behind it.

They didn’t stop.

Their eyes narrowed into killing slits. The scent of blood made them frenzied. Rabid.

That was the way of beasts: instinct, wildness, fearlessness.

Suddenly, Mondo let out a long, piercing cry.

From above, clouds stirred.

And descending from the sky—more giants.

Winged ones.

Primal beasts of the sky, wings outspread, as ancient as they were hidden.

They had slept in the heavens, hidden in transparent cocoons among the clouds. Blending with mist and wind, too elusive even for interstellar tech to detect.

Until now.

“You dare wake them?” The sea-walking beast king’s expression changed, then twisted into a cold sneer. “Mondo, you burned yourself out putting us to sleep all those years ago. You’re a shadow of your former self. What makes you think you can still control them?”

“You’re right,” the black dragon said with a scoff. “I can’t. Which is perfect. Let them loose, let them run wild—this mess is already bad enough. What’s a little more chaos?”

Whether they woke now or later, they’d wake all the same. Might as well let it all burn.

The skyborne primal beasts, just beginning to awaken, clearly disliked the salty humidity in the air. They let out low growls toward the approaching ocean beasts—warning them off.

But one side had just woken, groggy and slow. The other, already drunk on bloodlust, was high on the scent of carnage.

Neither side had any intention of backing down.

The first pair to collide locked jaws around each other’s throats, wings thrashing as they tore into one another. They slammed into nearby beasts, and those beasts, startled, leapt in—before long, the whole place erupted into a chaotic, all-out brawl.

The sea beast king snarled, completely losing patience. No more waiting—he launched straight at the black dragon.

“You think you’re still the strongest primal beast—the one he chose? You’re not! He was wrong about you! I’m stronger than you ever were!”

It was like he had something to prove—like this was all for an audience no longer present. His power exploded, shaking sea and sky, and for a moment it felt like the end of days had come.

And the black dragon’s eyes, hearing those words, dimmed. Like storm clouds churning with memories too deep to name.

—He should have retreated.
It was the rational move.
But he couldn’t do it.

The massive dragon bared his fangs in a cruel, cold grin.
“Wrong? He made the rightest choice of his life when he chose me!”

This was the one thing he would never, ever back down from.

Meanwhile, halfway up the mountain, Rog pushed through leaves and branches, head tilted back—his breath caught.

From this distance, the scale was overwhelming.

Two colossal forms were clashing at the sea’s edge—monsters so vast it made everything else look like dust. It was like watching gods split the heavens.

The earth shook. The sky groaned. Myths of creation had nothing on this.

Everyone around him gasped.
The whole world seemed to quake—except where they stood, which had gone eerily still.

The fight between beast kings was beyond them.

They couldn’t interfere.
They couldn’t even get close.
Even a stray wave might sweep them away to be torn apart by lesser beasts.

The mountains trembled. The ground cracked beneath them. Even staying upright took all their strength.

—So small.
They were so small.

Rog remembered feeling this once before—back on Baihe Star, when he’d met that mysterious young man. The one who’d asked to see the sun god.

He chuckled bitterly to himself.

Even now, he had the mind to daydream? But truly, if the legends were true—wasn’t the war god the one closest to the sun god?

“Four-Pillar Tower ahead!”

The shout snapped Rog back to the present. He looked up—
And froze.

There, at the cliff’s edge, stood a figure. Tall. Black robes. Crimson accents. A silver spear in hand.

The wind whipped his coat. Flame seemed to flicker at his feet.

Rog’s subordinate reported, voice distant, muffled like through a dream:
“Just got word—K, E, L zones had people trapped during the landslides, but someone showed up and got them all out. They’ve all evacuated safely now.”

Still staring, Rog asked, eyes wide, voice shaking,
“Who helped them?”

“Uh… They said they didn’t get a good look, too fast. But one little girl called him ‘the god-brother.’”

The soldier coughed awkwardly. “You know how kids are—pure imagination, right? Probably nothing—”

But Rog didn’t answer.

Because the figure on the cliff moved.

He raised his arm, spun once with fluid grace, and hurled the spear.

It flew.

No one saw it clearly.
Just a flash—
And then—BOOM.

The sound split the heavens.

The spear slammed into the centre of the battlefield.

The sea buckled.
The sky cleared.
Clouds burst apart like smoke under a hurricane.

And then—silence.

Not just here.
Out there, across the waves, among the primal beasts—silence.
As if someone had hit pause on the entire world.

Only the ocean remained—rising, falling, lapping quietly at the shore.

Troops froze, bracing for something more.
But nothing came.

They looked at each other, stunned.

The fighting… had stopped?

What… just happened?