As the second beast also moved, Gaius moved his hand, laughing. A big explosion tore apart the village to rubble. The wolf dodged north while the panther continued running toward the humans.


    As the battle began, Viser instinctively pushed the children back, his body moving before his mind could process. His hands lifted, mana surging through his body as he cast defensive spells in rapid succession.


    Walls of earth erupted from the ground, rising like a protective barrier. They twisted and circled around him and the children, forming a half-dome. The light vanished. Darkness swallowed them whole.


    Then, the world trembled. The shockwaves started hitting the shell. Dust rained from the ceiling, filling the air with the scent of crumbling stone and fresh destruction. The walls shuddered under the relentless assault.


    "Gather up and don''t move!" Viser''s voice rang through the darkness, sharp and commanding. His other hand moved swiftly, weaving another spell. Panels of glowing light flickered into existence, shimmering like thin sheets of glass. Through them, the battle outside was laid bare.


    The old emperor drove the panther east, locking it in a vicious clash. His movements were fluid yet ruthless, each strike delivered with the weight of centuries of mastery. Fire roared around him, a raging inferno that devoured the air with violent hunger, while bursts of gravity magic warped space itself, distorting reality around his blows.


    Each impact forced the beast further east. The ground beneath its limbs rippled unnaturally, shifting and breaking as if resisting the emperor''s will. But the panther wasn''t simply moving—it was being pushed, unwillingly. Its three tails lashed wildly, its eerie, cold gaze unreadable, but one thing was clear: it did not appreciate Gaius''s relentless assault.


    Meanwhile, the other eight warriors worked to keep the wolf contained. Their combined magic illuminated the battlefield, turning the night into a chaotic storm of power. Fire, ice, wind—raw elements merged into a kaleidoscope of destruction, each spell clashing and intertwining in a desperate effort to hold the beast back.


    But the wolf was relentless. It didn''t just withstand their attacks—it absorbed them, its shifting form drinking in the darkness, twisting the light around it. Every step forward was an inevitability, an unyielding force pressing against the warriors with silent menace.


    The two battles had split. One raged southeast near the shell of what had once been a village. The other had drifted northwest, where the wolf remained an unstoppable shadow. And in between, untouched but precariously close, lay the orphanage.


    Viser stretched his senses to their limits, scanning the village with a desperate need for understanding. Hope clung to him like a thread—one that snapped the moment the dust cleared.


    His breath hitched. His heart clenched.


    The village was gone.


    What remained was nothing but scorched ruins, the smoldering remnants of homes still glowing under the dim twilight. The air was thick with the choking stench of blood and smoke, clinging to the earth like a funeral shroud.


    Bodies littered the ground—men, women… children.


    Lifeless. Broken.


    Extinguished.


    Then he found them—almost all of them.


    They were huddled where a small road used to be, hidden behind the towering clock. His children.


    At first, he didn''t recognize them. Not by their faces. There were too few of those left intact. Instead, he knew them by what remained—torn clothes, scattered toys, small limbs severed from the bodies they once belonged to.


    The ones he had raised, guided, and loved as if they were his own.


    Their tiny hands, once reaching for him with trust, now lay still.


    Their bright eyes, once filled with laughter, were empty.


    Stolen story; please report.


    Gone.


    Denial. Then sadness. And then—rage.


    "GAIUUUUUUUUUUUS!!!"


    The scream ripped from his throat, raw, wild, shaking the very air. The children near him flinched, eyes wide with terror, but he barely registered them.


    A storm of fury crashed through him, violent and all-consuming. It wasn''t just anger—it was something deeper, something primal. His breath came in ragged gasps, his chest heaving like a man drowning in fire. His vision blurred, red creeping in at the edges. His fists clenched so tightly his nails pierced his palms, blood trickling between his fingers.


    I will kill him.


    It wasn''t a thought. It was a truth. A law. A certainty as absolute as the destruction before him.


    Even if it''s the last thing I do.


    His entire body trembled—not with fear, not with grief, but with a wrath so vast it threatened to rip him apart. He needed to break something, to tear the world apart until it matched the ruin inside him.


    But there was nothing left to destroy.


    His burning gaze locked onto Lunia. Beneath the fury, sorrow lurked, cold and heavy. He didn''t need to say it.


    There was no chance. No one had survived. Not her parents. Not anyone.


    But he wouldn''t tell her that. Not now.


    Viser forced himself to breathe—slow, steady. He had to calm down. He still had four children to protect. Charging out in blind fury wouldn''t change anything. He wasn''t strong enough. He was just a Dominus.


    His fists tightened at the thought, but he pushed it down. One thing at a time.


    His gaze fell on the children still with him. His son stood closest, worry etched into his face. Viser rested a hand on his head, his touch firm but gentle.


    "Don''t worry," he murmured. "We''ll be okay."


    Then he turned to Delilah and Nero.


    Even without showing them the village through the screens, they knew. He could see it in their eyes.


    But what made his breath hitch wasn''t that they understood. It was how they reacted.


    A little sadness—yes. But not grief. Not devastation. It wasn''t the look of someone who had lost a family member.


    It was the look of someone who had just lost a bet. A mild disappointment, nothing more.


    A cold sadness settled deep in Viser''s gut, heavy and suffocating. Beneath it, an ugly sliver of rage twisted, clawing its way to the surface. Not the burning fury from before—this was quieter, heavier, laced with something far worse.


    After everything… after all this time… I still failed.


    He had thought—hoped—that they had finally started to care. That they had changed.


    But no.


    They hadn''t.


    Disappointment hit harder than anger ever could. It sank into his bones, colder than the night air.


    He exhaled sharply, forcing it all down.


    Not now.


    This wasn''t the time.


    Viser turned at the first battle.


    This time, they stopped. But the world didn''t.


    The ground was in the sky, torn apart and weightless. The sky was on fire, burning in unnatural hues. And in the center of it all, Gaius and the panther stood—two forces of destruction, unleashing everything they had against each other. Fire, explosions, rocks, trees, the air, time, gravity, raw power—every strike reshaped the battlefield, each clash sending ripples through reality itself.


    But on the other battlefield, it was different.


    The wolf didn''t move.


    It didn''t have to.


    The shadows did. His, theirs, the trees''—they twisted and stretched, shifting with a life of their own, striking, smothering, tearing. And all the while, his six glowing eyes remained still, watching. Calculating.


    The eight warriors around him were in constant motion, dodging, countering, trying to land a blow. The battlefield was an explosion of color, too bright, too fast—a storm of power crashing against an enemy that never had to lift a claw.


    It was Nero who spoke. "Care to explain?"


    Viser let out a slow breath, his gaze still fixed on the flickering screens of light. "This shell will protect us—for now. As long as they don''t get too close." His voice carried the weight of experience, steady but laced with tension.


    "As for the battle… those eight men out there are Sages. I can only recognize two of them. Duke Tiven of House Ronne and Duke Victry of House Mars. I fought beside them once, when I was younger."With a small movement of his hand, Viser shifted one of the screens, focusing on one of the men. An old but imposing figure came into view—a tall man, his face deeply scarred, his hair pure white. Sparks of lightning crackled around him, illuminating his weathered features. Yet, despite his age, he stood like a man in his prime, his body radiating raw energy. He moved with inhuman speed, flickering across the battlefield in blinks, likely using a space rune to teleport.


    Between his sudden movements, his attacks rained down—lightning bolts cutting through the night, striking the monstrous creature with relentless precision. He wasn''t trying to kill it. He was distracting it, giving the others an opening.


    Another screen shifted.


    A younger man, perhaps in his forties, came into focus. He was much smaller in build compared to the first, with brown hair and sharp, calculating eyes. His attacks were different—shadows coiled around his body like living creatures, darting toward the monster in rapid bursts.


    The look in his eyes was unmistakable—greed.


    He wasn''t just fighting; he was watching, waiting, measuring—looking for an opportunity to take something for himself.


    The children watched in awe.