The rain hadn't stopped.
It fell silently over a broken battlefield—ashen skies weeping over the cost of war. The once-proud land was cratered, scorched, and soaked with blood. The aftermath was quiet, but not peaceful. There was no cheering. No victory cries. Only the soft patter of rain and the low hum of healing spells being cast by tired, trembling hands.
Fifteen Essence Warriors had gone into battle under Riku Hayashi's command.
Now only three remained conscious.
Riku stood motionless at the heart of the ruin, his golden hair damp and sticking to his face, cloak torn and clinging to his form. His shoulders were straight—but his eyes were distant, heavy with the weight of command. The Celestial Nexus had faded, leaving only his base state behind.
Yumi Aoyama stood beside him, one hand lightly on her blade's hilt, the other pressed to a wound on her side. Wind danced faintly around her, almost trying to shield her from the pain. Her eyes were focused on Riku—not with judgment, but quiet concern.
Sora Tenmei was just behind them, her posture tense. Despite her exhaustion, her teleportation instinct was still active, prepared to evacuate if needed. Her dark eyes scanned the ruins, as if hoping none of what had happened was real.
And before them… the field of the fallen.
Daigo Shinoseki. Kaito Sorimachi. Naoko Ishigari. Zenji Takamura.
Four powerful S-Rank Essence Warriors.
Gone.
The medics were rushing—Mikio Dazai barely clinging to life, assisted by junior healers. Arata, Reika, Kuro Emi, Hina, Amari, and Hajime were all unconscious or critically wounded. Their breathing was shallow, but they were alive—for now.
Toru Kurotaki had been pulled from the rubble with multiple fractures, but even unconscious, his hand had been clenched in a fist, as if still trying to catch up to Riku.
But Riku… didn't move. Not until the last body was carried off the field.
"Why are you so quiet…?" Yumi asked softly, barely audible over the rain.
Riku didn't answer at first.
Then—he raised one hand.
The storm trembled.
Three enormous dragons formed from golden light and flowing energy spiraled downward, their presence regal and calming—divine. One rested beside Sora. Another curled near Yumi, letting her lean against its warm, glowing scales. The third coiled beside Riku, almost protectively.
They weren't just transport.
They were symbols.
Of who he had become.
The medical staff, exhausted and overwhelmed, looked up in awe—at the dragons, at the rain, at the boy who had saved the world… again. But none dared ask about the form he had taken in that final battle. They had seen the golden explosion of light. Felt the pressure. But they had no name for it.
Only Sora and Yumi had glimpsed the truth.
Only they knew what Divine Avatar and Celestial Nexus meant.
"Riku…" Sora's voice broke the silence. "They're calling it a win. The networks are already talking about you again. 'Riku defeats villains once again,' they're saying. But they don't know…"
"They don't know the price," Yumi added, wiping her cheek—whether from tears or rain, it was impossible to tell.
Riku looked toward the far horizon. His voice was quiet.
"Four dead. Eight out. And we still don't know who 'the boss' is."
He turned his head slightly toward his two allies. "This isn't over."
Then he stepped toward his dragon, glancing once more at the sky, then the bodies.
"Let's get them home," he said.
They climbed onto the dragons, the rain still falling as they rose slowly into the sky—carrying the living, the wounded, and the memory of those who gave everything.
The wind howled softly behind them.
And Riku, high above the battlefield, whispered under his breath:
"…I won't let their deaths be meaningless."