Sir Gareth had just evacuated a small family from a half-destroyed home when the ground shook again—this time more violently than before.
His intuition was screaming. A shiver ran down his spine as he swallowed with some difficulty.
He felt it—the cold touch of death slowly approaching.
*
Percival was guiding the evacuated citizens toward the eastern forest, hoping to save as many lives as possible to honor Riven's last wish. A small family had just run past him when he felt a violent tremor beneath his feet.
The ground shook, almost knocking him over. Eventually, it did.
He fell to one knee, holding his head with both hands. His mind felt like it had been pierced by a thousand needles.
When the pain stopped, he looked around, trying to see if the refugees were safe.
They weren't.
He saw a pair of legs—just legs—standing in the middle of a clearing surrounded by dozens of large stones. Blood was splattered across the ground near them.
When he realized what he was looking at, fear gripped his lungs, making it hard to breathe. His heart pounded. His mind still reeled from the earlier streak of pain.
Bending forward, he vomited.
*
Nicolaus had split up from Roger and was searching for Riven's family. They had talked about their families once, back when they were getting to know each other. And when Riven found out about this mission, he told them where his parents lived and what they looked like—just in case.
Nicolaus wasn't planning on leaving this place without honoring Riven's death, sudden as it may have been.
He was getting closer to where the house was supposed to be when, suddenly, the ground shook. A massive tremor scared his horse, making it throw him off its back.
Nicolaus landed hard, hitting his head against a rock. Thanks to his helmet, he wasn't seriously hurt—but before he could recover and stand up, he saw it.
Something so beautiful… yet terrifying.
He tried to avert his gaze, but couldn't.
His horse had already collapsed. But at that moment, nothing else except the captivating view seemed to matter.
*
Roger had also split from the group and was tasked with searching for Unit 48, hoping they were still somewhere out there—fighting.
He reached the border of the westernmost houses, just outside the villages, and all he could see were bodies.
Monsters, varying in size and species. Some had fur. Others, scales. Some were as large as buildings, and some as small as fists.
They were all dead. Decapitated. Gutted. Or worse.
He rode farther into the corpse-filled plains, hoping to find who he was searching for.
Before long, he saw it—a beautiful steed belonging to Sir Ewain, the captain of Unit 48.
Hope surged through him.
He urged his horse forward, faster.
Then, the ground shook.
Cracks opened beneath him. Before he could react, his horse stepped directly into one. The earth parted. They both collapsed.
Roger was forced to leave his steed behind and focus on survival.
He ran—dodging and evading, careful not to slip, and especially not to stop. He was almost there. Just a few more steps.
Before he knew what had happened, he stumbled. He rolled several meters across the shattered ground, finally coming to a stop on his back.
When he looked up at the sky, he saw something he probably shouldn't have.
Hundreds—no, thousands—of glass-like shards were falling from a massive crack in the sky. The myriad of colors mixed together, forming a once-in-a-lifetime view.
It mesmerized him. He couldn't take his eyes off it.
He thought that maybe—just maybe—if he got just a little bit closer… he could reach it.
The thought filled him with an indescribable sense of ecstasy. Of fulfillment. Of purpose.
He tried to move—but couldn't.
Only then did he realize the pain he was in.
It was agonizing… but oh, so beautiful.
*
Sir Ewain looked toward the shattered sky with a difficult-to-read expression on his face. He had just slain a large, slender monster with long, slim limbs and clawed hands. Blood coated his otherwise handsome, commanding face.
"There's not much time left," he muttered.
He turned toward the members of his unit. They were mesmerized by the view—as if in a trance.
Without thinking, he pushed himself off the ground and sprinted toward the closest of his subordinates, who hadn't yet finished his fight. When he reached the four-legged monster covered in thick fur, he simply raised his sword, planted his feet into the ground, and shouted something.
Then he brought his blade down.
The creature's body split cleanly in half. Even before the halves fell, he was already charging toward a small horde of humanoid monsters preparing to attack another defenseless subordinate.
Standing before the fear-inducing enemies, he raised his sword once again. Shouting something indecipherable, he brought his heavy blade down upon them.
The first was cleaved cleanly in half.
Sir Ewain turned the downward motion of the slash into another powerful strike, cutting into the next. Swinging his heavy blade with deadly precision and blinding speed, he killed one after another until all of them lay dead—painting the shattered earth in black blood.
He wiped the blade clean, then turned toward a nearby soldier. The words he had shouted earlier seemed to have knocked the boy out, pulling him from the trance.
Sir Ewain lifted the young man over his shoulder and ran back to the first trainee he had rescued. He laid the boy next to his comrade before turning to find the rest of his scattered unit.
He sprinted across the wrecked lands, analyzing the chaos, thinking—calculating—how they might survive this.
Then he saw something.
A different young boy was lying on his back, one hand extended toward the split sky.
It was Roger of Unit 0.
Sir Ewain bit his lip.
"Tsk."
The fact that Unit 0 hadn't left yet was troubling. It either meant they couldn't find their target… or they had disobeyed orders to help the already doomed civilians.
Neither option was good.
He stood over Roger for a moment, then pressed his hands together into a praying stance and quietly mumbled something under his breath.
Almost immediately, Roger's hand dropped. His eyes closed.
Sir Ewain exhaled and turned away.
He couldn't be bothered to care about someone else's unit—especially if they couldn't even follow simple orders.
But Gareth was a friend. The least he could do was put his underling to sleep.
He turned his head toward the last two members of his unit and rushed off to rescue them.
*
Graham had been ordered by Sir Gareth to find a horse nearby and return to the castle. He felt conflicted about leaving Riven behind—but he trusted the boy would survive.
He slowly approached the village and quickly found a horse. Just before he left, he spotted a young boy, crying and walking aimlessly.
"Are you lost?" he asked softly.
"I'm searching for Mommy. I… haven't seen her since the ground shook," the boy muttered, sniffling.
"It's going to be okay. You don't have to cry. There are strong knights looking for her as we speak," Graham said, conscience heavy, trying to calm him.
"Really?" the boy asked, wiping his nose and calming down.
"Yes. In fact, I know one of them personally. And he's a great hero who always keeps his promises."
The boy smiled brightly.
"Now, why don't you come with me? We'll go toward the forest, where it's safe, and wait for your parents. Okay?"
The boy nodded and climbed up on the horse, hugging Graham tightly from behind.
Graham smiled warmly and guided the horse out of the stable.
They rode in silence. But just before reaching the forest, a loud cracking sound filled the air. The ground shook slightly one more time.
And as it did—both Graham and the young boy fainted.
They fell from the moving horse.
Moments later, even the horse collapsed, falling to the ground without a sound.