The Maw’s colossal frame shifted as a thunderous tremor rippled across the blasted terrain. He paused—head lifting, nostrils flaring—then tilted slightly toward the southwest.

  Kevlar felt it too.

  A large force… and something else. Something humming with lethal intent.

  A voice resonated again inside his mind, the Maw’s voice—curious, steady, no longer drenched in rage.

  Maw: “Shadowborn… your eyes shift. You sense them as well.”

  Kevlar hovered before the titan, his aura dark but calm.

  “Maw, I no longer wish to fight you. But the ones approaching now… they’re different. They intend harm—to both of us.”

  The Maw narrowed his burning socket-like gaze.

  Maw: “Aren’t those humans? Do you not protect them?”

  Kevlar exhaled, a tired, almost bitter breath.

  “I protect humans who don’t point a blade at me. These people have pointed theirs more than once.

  They speak of peace and justice… but hide schemes behind their smiles.

  They chase their own benefit, even if they must sacrifice others to get it.

  They are not ‘human’ to me.”

  Silence. Then a low, rumbling laugh rolled from the Maw.

  Maw: “Indeed, you are a peculiar one… The Shadowborn exist to protect the human race, yet you stand apart from it.”

  Another rumble. “Interesting. Very interesting.”

  Kevlar blinked.

  Inside the titan’s tone… was that amusement?

  Maw: “After speaking with you, hatred feels undeserved. You carry the same scent as the First… yet you are not him.”

  Kevlar’s shoulders relaxed.

  “…I’m glad we came to an understanding.”

  The Maw shifted again, raising his massive arm—this time not to strike.

  Maw: “So… what shall we do about this intruder?”

  Kevlar looked toward the horizon, where the Vatican forces marched like an unyielding white tide.

  “Maw… I will help you find your lost companion. But before that, we have to deal with what’s coming. Together.

  That cannon they’re preparing—it’s dangerous. I can feel it.”

  A moment passed.

  Then the Maw gave a solemn nod.

  Maw: “I shall trust you on that… Let us deal with the ant.”

  Kevlar rose slightly, palm lifted.

  “Then let’s talk strategy first.”

  Mental threads connected. Titan and Shadowborn discussed their plan—silent, wordless, swift.

  When finished, Kevlar dropped downward in a controlled fall, landing in front of Draculius, Lilith, Camilia, and the dozen Royal One below.

  Lilith’s brows shot up.

  “What’s going on? How come it looks like… the Maw calmed down?”

  Kevlar rubbed the back of his neck, smiling sheepishly.

  “…Well… we sort of talked. Came to an understanding.”

  Lilith and Camilia exchanged a look.

  Talked? When? We didn’t hear a thing.

  Draculius chuckled knowingly.

  “So what was the agreement?”

  Kevlar met the ancient vampire’s crimson gaze.

  “We’ll help him find what he wants. In return, he works with us to deal with the intruders approaching.”

  “That is all we need to know for now,” Draculius replied.

  “Explain the plan.”

  Kevlar gathered them, explaining every step he and the Maw decided.

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  When all was set,

  Draculius, Lilith, and ten Royal One departed toward the Vatican army.

  Camilia sped toward the Crimson Citadel.

  Kevlar returned to the surface beside the Maw.

  And their “battle” resumed.

  To the distant onlookers, it appeared as if the titan and Shadowborn clashed violently—blows shaking earth, distorting air, destroying nature itself.

  But the truth?

  They were merely swinging with intention, never landing deadly hits.

  A choreography of deception.

  From afar, the Vatican army watched in awe and terror as two godlike beings tore apart the skyline.

  Saint Fariel lifted his staff.

  “My children! Fear not what you witness!

  For our holy weapon shall soon bring down this calamity!”

  Cheers erupted—forced, nervous, yet fervent.

  Slavik, one of the three Guardians, stepped forward.

  “Your Holiness… pardon my impudence, but… will the cannon truly be enough?

  The Shadowborn has fought that titan long, yet the beast still stands.”

  Fariel’s smile did not falter.

  “Your concern is natural. But take heart—

  the Shadowborn has weakened it for us.”

  A murmur of relief spread.

  Fariel raised a finger, voice dropping to reverence.

  “This cannon is an ancient angelic weapon.

  Our researchers rebuilt it from ruins—the same ruins that held the Book of Eternia.

  A relic of the Angels themselves.

  It is divine providence that we wield it now.”

  Slavik nodded.

  Castiel and Emilia bowed their heads.

  Only Serena remained motionless, eyes fixed upward—

  staring at the Maw… then Kevlar circling around him.

  Something twisted in her chest.

  The marching halted when the frontline shouted—

  “Company ahead!!”

  The fog parted.

  Standing boldly in their path—

  Draculius.

  Lilith.

  Ten Royal One.

  Beautiful. Pale. Regal.

  Terrifying.

  Panic exploded.

  “It—It’s the vampires!!

  Royal One! A whole group!!”

  Memories of massacres, myths, and nightmares resurfaced instantly.

  Even with Shadowborn, Saints, and hybrids among them, the fear of Royal One ran bone-deep.

  Chaos spread until—

  “SILENCE!!”

  Saint Fariel’s voice cracked like lightning.

  The army froze.

  “You are children of God!

  You fear neither death nor darkness!”

  A brilliant blessing washed over the frontline.

  Strength surged into them—unnatural, intoxicating, emboldening.

  Confidence replaced fear.

  Recklessness replaced caution.

  Lilith scoffed.

  “Foolish humans… he’s sending them to their deaths.”

  Draculius added coldly, “To that piece of filth, they are nothing but sacrificial lambs.”

  Lilith raised a hand.

  “Kill only those who retaliate.

  Spare anyone who loses the will to fight.”

  The Royal One bowed in perfect synchrony.

  “Yes, my lady.”

  The atmosphere tightened—

  so thick it felt like the very air had forgotten how to breathe.

  Dust rolled across the deadlands.

  The frozen soil trembled beneath thousands of synchronized footsteps as the Vatican army advanced in formation—shields raised, banners lifted, eyes glowing unnaturally bright under Fariel’s blessing.

  Draculius watched them with a predator’s amusement.

  A slow, feral smile stretched across his face, revealing fangs that glinted faintly in the cold light.

  “They march willingly into death…”

  His voice was soft, almost pitying.

  “…or rather, into the death their shepherd chose for them.”

  Beside him, Lilith’s expression shifted into something sharper—

  not rage, but disdain.

  Her crimson eyes gleamed like twin blades drawn from their scabbards.

  The Royal One stood perfectly still—

  a line of statues carved from ancient, merciless stone.

  No twitch, no breath, no sound.

  Their presence alone was suffocating, a silent promise that anyone who crossed that invisible line would not return alive.

  Above, Kevlar and the Maw circled.

  Their false clash slowed, their movements shifting from furious blows to sweeping motions intended to intimidate the approaching army.

  A titan’s fist crashing into the earth, creating a crater—but stopping inches before cracking Kevlar.

  A burst of shadow spiraling around the Maw—yet dissipating harmlessly at the last second.

  Their dance was a mask.

  The trap was nearly sprung.

  From the rear ranks of the Vatican forces, the chanting swelled—

  echoing across the wasteland like the drumbeat of a war-loving god.

  “FOR OUR HOLY CRUSADE!”

  “FOR OUR ALMIGHTY ONE!”

  Voices rose in fanatical unity.

  Hundreds became thousands.

  Their boots hammered the ground like an oncoming storm.

  And far—far—behind them…

  Something stirred.

  A metallic hum.

  Low at first, then rising—

  a vibration that rattled armor, bent grass, and made even the blessed soldiers flinch.

  The cannon.

  Its inner core began to glow, shifting from a dull red to an eerie, angelic white.

  Arcs of light snapped around its frame like restrained lightning.

  Bright.

  Hot.

  Hungry.

  It felt alive.

  The hum grew louder, swelling into a harmonic resonance that made the sky itself quiver.

  Kevlar froze mid-air, pupils narrowing.

  No… this isn’t a weapon built by human.

  This is something older.

  Something forbidden.

  A primal instinct twisted in his gut, warning him that if that beam fired—

  the land below wouldn’t be the only thing erased.

  The Maw sensed the same truth.

  A deep, guttural growl rolled out of his chest—

  a sound that shook mountains.

  Maw: “Shadowborn… it is time.”

  His titanic body crouched slightly, muscles coiling beneath shadow-flesh like chains drawn tight.

  The ground around his feet cracked.

  Kevlar’s wings of darkness spread wide, unfurling behind him like storm banners.

  His eyes hardened—sharp, unyielding, resolute.

  The last traces of hesitation evaporated.

  “Then let’s show them what real monsters look like.”

  The Maw straightened, towering like an ancient deity reawakened.

  Kevlar’s aura deepened, dark shadows pouring out of him in rolling waves that smothered the air.

  Below, Draculius lifted one hand.

  Lilith’s lips curved into a dangerous smirk.

  The Royal One, in perfect unison—

  shifted their stance.

  Just enough to signal:

  The first strike is theirs.

  The Vatican frontline, intoxicated by Fariel’s blessing and blinded by faith, roared as they surged forward.

  “FOR GOD!!”

  The earth broke as Kevlar and the Maw launched themselves simultaneously—

  one from the sky, one from the ground—

  their combined presence crashing down like twin calamities descending upon the battlefield.

  And in that instant—

  The real battle began.