As the moment lingered between Nyra and Dax, the air grew heavier. Dax looked unwell, his breaths uneven, his chest rising and falling like it could give up at any second. Nyra could only hope for the best. All she wanted in that instant was for Dax to live—just to survive this chaos.

Meanwhile, Vivi stood frozen, trapped in the nightmare inside the giant of Ramuza. Her whole body had gone numb. That view—blood, stone breaking, screams echoing—was nothing but hell itself, chaos wearing a skin of battle. Only Nova's painted warriors still fought with guts, pushing against the storm. Nyra's three summons had already vanished after their clash with Vaslimo, their power spent, their bodies gone.

Ana was standing there too, but she was something else. Empty. Hollow. Her thoughts were vacant, like emotions never existed in her world at all. No fear, no sorrow, no fire. Just silence inside her. The only thing she could see, the only thing her soul seemed to recognize, was Auren Ryuki—his madness, his unevenness, that dangerous light in his presence. His words kept cutting her, again and again, like blades hammering her soul to the very end.

Villain for Vaiven. Hero for the world. That contradiction burned her brain.

Her thoughts spun backward—memories flashing, dragging her into the past. And then a single question tore its way into her head: As a member of the Vaiven fleet… what did we really do?

She remembered. And it hurt.

Vaiven always did bad stuff. Sometimes a little good, but nothing pure, nothing saintly. They were the most terrifying Tidrborn crew of this era. Ruling the underground, crawling into the world above with proud chests and cruel grins. She remembered the things she saw, the things she ignored. Her father, the others on the ship—indulging in horror. Brutality disguised as order. Crimes. Smuggling. Blood on their hands, laughs in their throats. And when the women screamed, when the weak begged—rape followed. She had turned her head. Pretended she didn't see. That was her faith, her curse.

Her mind jerked forward again, colliding with one thought—Tina.

Her heart kicked in her chest, breaking her numbness for the first time. Is Tina alive? Did Aazin kill her?

Her eyes widened.

The view shifted—snowfield, temple of the Mother Snake torn open, walls broken, and the storm above shivering with thunder.

Auren stood with his sword low, chest heaving, blood still dripping from his forehead. His smile was there—broken, twisted, alive. Across him, the catastrophe, the fused beast of Aazin and Ryzin, loomed tall. His body stretched and scarred, a tower of muscle, eyes burning, strings of energy crawling out from his arms like veins of light.

They clashed.

Moonlight Slashes—Auren's blade flashed, one slice splitting into ten, ten into a hundred. Thousands of silver arcs rained, cutting air itself, breaking snow into sharp dust. His sword moved like it had a mind, a dance of madness, each strike flowing, bouncing, bending.

Catastrophe roared, his throat vibrating like hollow stone, and answered with Beat Blast—his fists pounding air, each blow exploding in sound and pressure. Walls cracked, snow cliffs split. Then his strings fired—thin rays of white and black, weaving nets, piercing ground, slicing through trees like butter.

The temple echoed with clink-clink-clash. Sparks rained when sword met string. Auren twisted his body, flipping sideways, his blade carving a storm around him, breaking half the net, but one cut still grazed his cheek, burning like fire. He spat blood, smirked.

Catastrophe stepped, the ground caving. His hand swiped Auren's chest, body strong as steel, and Auren flew backward, bones screaming. But before he hit the wall, his feet caught stone, and he shot himself forward—Moonlight Slices again, sharper this time, purple vitara leaking from his left eye, wrapping the blade in fire.

The slashes rained faster, mixing with sword-dance steps, the ground itself shining silver under his rhythm.

For the first time, catastrophe staggered—blood marks drawn across his chest, his tall body scarred, smoke rising. His strings snapped back into his skin, broken.

Auren landed on the snow ridge, blade dripping, shoulders shaking, but smile still burning.

The catastrophe roared louder, shaking heaven and earth, but for a breath—a single heartbeat—Auren was the one standing higher.

Not a win. Not the end. Just an edge.

Snow fell harder, but inside that storm, the fight burned hotter.

Catastrophe moved, his giant arm splitting apart, veins glowing ocean-blue. Ryzin's power came alive—the power of water, but not calm, not gentle—this water danced like a wild beast. Streams curled in the air like serpents, glowing, alive, each droplet a blade sharper than steel.

Auren's eyes narrowed.He knew—if one strike touches me, I'm done.

Catastrophe laughed, voice heavy, hollow."Let me wash away your fake smile, Ash Phantom. Let Ryzin's flow drown you forever."

The water lashed forward. A whip of glowing blue sliced the snowfield in half. Auren barely bent his neck, the strike missed, but a tree behind him melted into splinters.

He grinned—smile cracked, teeth bloody."Nice dance. But water or not—don't think I can't swim."

He dashed forward. Sword flashing, Moonlight Slashes clashed against the water serpents. Sparks of silver and blue filled the temple ruins, burning air like fireworks. Each cut broke a stream, but more flowed—Ryzin's water never stopped.

One strike grazed his arm—skin hissed, flesh tearing like paper. Pain shot through him, but he didn't slow. He spun his sword, slashing downward, creating a storm of silver blades.

"Moonlight Storm!" he shouted, voice tearing the air.

Hundreds of slices cut through the water, splitting the streams into glowing rain. For a moment—it looked like heaven opened. Blue droplets falling, silver light scattering, beauty and violence mixed into one.

Catastrophe grinned, towering still."Your light is bright—but water always flows back."

He raised both arms. The ground cracked. A tidal wave of glowing blue water rose high, higher than the temple walls, swirling around him, forming a giant serpent's head. The serpent roared, lunging straight for Auren.

Auren's body shook, blood dripping, knees heavy. He whispered—"If it's water you bring… then I'll show you the moon."

He flipped—headstand on broken stone, sword pointing upward, his whole body glowing with strange rhythm. The air cracked. Purple vitara burned from his left eye, spreading like fire.

Then space itself bent.

A neon-blue-black dome sealed around them, snow erased, storm erased—only emptiness, only silence. A room made of void and cold light.

"Welcome…" Auren's voice echoed everywhere, but his body was gone."…to Luna Rome."

Catastrophe's wide eyes shook, his strings and water swaying."What is this trick? Where are you hiding, brat!?"

The echo came again—closer, sharper."This is my hunting ground. Here, I'm the ghost, you're the prey."

A faint shimmer—Auren's silhouette flashing behind him, then gone. Sword whispering in the void. The catastrophe swung wildly, water lashing in every direction, smashing walls of neon blue, but nothing hit.

From nowhere, Auren's voice cut again, playful, sharp."Try harder, big guy. You'll need more than rivers to drown the moon."

The blade's glint appeared once—at his back, slicing shallow across catastrophe's tall frame. Blue blood sprayed, glowing in the dark.

The fight wasn't over. It had only just begun.

The room of Luna Rome was no longer silent—it was alive, screaming with energy. The neon-blue walls pulsed like veins of some giant beast, shadows bending and breaking under the raw pressure of the two forces clashing within.

The Catastrophe roared, his tall figure glowing with streams of blue water that danced around him like serpents. Each droplet twisted into blades, each wave shifting like it had its own soul. The water wasn't gentle—it was sharp, merciless, and hungry. One strike… just one touch… and Auren would vanish forever.

"Drown, Ryuki!" the Catastrophe thundered, sending a torrent of glowing water slicing through the air. It coiled, spiraling with the precision of a serpent striking its prey.

But Auren's form flickered—like a ghost, like he wasn't there at all. His steps were swift, his sword dancing through the room, each arc glowing with silver-blue light. Moonlight Slices cut through the rushing torrents, sparks of white colliding with the glowing water.

The Catastrophe wasn't done. His chest expanded, and from his body erupted string rays—thin, crackling cords of energy whipping across the room, tearing neon scars into the walls. He cloaked himself in black fog, thick and shifting, turning into blades and spears, stabbing out like a storm of shadows.

"You can't even step close!" he mocked, his voice breaking through the chaos.

Auren slid back, his breathing sharp, eyes locked. He knew it—if he misstepped once, he was gone. His sword trembled, not in fear but in rhythm, syncing with his heartbeat.

Then it happened.

From Auren's left eye, a flame ignited—a strange purple Vitara flame, burning not like fire but like life itself unraveling. The glow spread, wrapping his blade until it wasn't silver anymore—it was a burning purple sword, humming with raw, unshaken madness.

Auren whispered, voice low but sharp as steel:"Moonlight… Final Slash."

The room shook. He swung downward, his blade cutting not just air but everything—fog, water, rays, the shield itself. The slash grew gigantic, stretching like a falling moon. It ripped through the Catastrophe, splitting his towering form vertically in a single, devastating strike.

The neon room cracked, the blue water screamed, and silence followed—only Auren stood, sword lowered, his left eye still burning with that violet fire.

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