At another corner of the battle that will go down in history....

The battlefield trembled under the shadow of wings.

Christopher stood amidst corpses and ruin, his Crimson Blade dripping with ichor that hissed as it struck the ground. His breath was heavy, misted with the stench of blood and smoke. The chaos around him—shrieks of goblins, howls of warped beasts, roars of dying orcs—faded for him, for his opponent was unlike anything else on this cursed land.

The wyvern loomed above, a towering creature of scale and fang. Its body was armored in obsidian plates laced with crimson veins, and its wings stretched wide, blotting the fiery sky. The maw opened, releasing a guttural screech that cracked the air like thunder. But its eyes… those burning, tortured eyes were what froze Christopher. They weren't wild. They weren't beastly. What Christopher is feeling from those gaze were almost... human.

ROAR!!

The wyvern lashed forward, claws cleaving through the earth. Christopher rolled aside, his Crimson Blade carving an arc of red light that nicked its scales. The beast recoiled, but only for a moment—then its tail lashed, smashing through the ground where Christopher had been. He barely blocked, the impact hurling him into a ruined pillar. His bones rattled, blood spilling from his lip.

"Damn it…" Christopher spat, planting the Crimson Blade into the dirt to steady himself. "This thing's not like the others. It's… thinking."

The wyvern's growl rumbled like distant thunder. Then it spoke—not in words, but in a distorted rasp that clawed into Christopher's mind.

"Leave… or die…"

Christopher froze. His eyes widened. "It can… talk?"

The beast lunged again, and their battle resumed with brutal ferocity. Christopher ducked beneath a taloned swipe and countered with a flaming slash, his blade igniting the wyvern's scales. The creature roared, spinning and unleashing a torrent of black fire that melted stone into liquid slag. Christopher crossed his blade in front of him, channeling every ounce of power—his crimson aura flaring, parting the flames like a storm against the tide.

Their clash shook the field. Each strike from Christopher was answered by the beast's overwhelming might—steel against claw, flame against fire, will against monstrous fury. Sparks and embers painted the battlefield, a grotesque dance of man and monster.

But in the heart of the struggle, Christopher saw it again—that flicker of humanity in the wyvern's eyes. For an instant, it faltered. Its strike slowed, its gaze trembled with something deeper. Pain. Regret.

And then the truth surfaced.

Through the chaotic resonance of the Crimson Blade, Christopher felt it—the echo of a soul. Not beast, not demon, but human. The wyvern was no mindless monster born of the Labyrinth. It was once a man.

"Impossible…" Christopher whispered, parrying a claw strike that nearly took his head. "You're… you were human!"

The wyvern shrieked, its body thrashing as though the words stabbed deeper than any blade. Its voice reverberated in broken fragments of memory.

"Yes… once… human… warrior… betrayed… cursed…"

Christopher's heart tightened as the creature's strikes grew wilder, almost desperate. Between blows, the truth clawed its way out, unbidden:

Long ago, before Endless had birthed his labyrinthine dominion, there was a warrior of the outlands—a man who fought against the rising tide of darkness and decided to explore the Labyrinth along with his squad in other to train. But tragically, he got betrayed by his allies and left to rot in the corrupted dungeons, his soul was twisted, his flesh bound in endless torment. He was offered salvation by Endless himself… but it came at a cost. To become eternal in power, he was stripped of his humanity, reborn as the first and greatest of the Labyrinth's generals.

Now, he was neither man nor beast. He was the Wyvern King, the enslaved leader of the creatures that tore across Aetheris.

Christopher clenched his jaw, his Crimson Blade pulsing violently in his grip. "So that's what you are…" His voice shook with fury and sorrow alike. "A man… forced into a monster's shell."

The wyvern bellowed, the tortured echo of its soul rattling the very skies.

The battle had only just begun.

ROAR!!!

The Wyvern King's roar split the heavens, its cry more anguish than rage. Its colossal wings beat violently, summoning hurricanes of dust and ruin that swept across the battlefield. Christopher dug his heels into the ground, his Crimson Blade humming in his grip like a living flame yearning to be unleashed.

The revelation gnawed at him—the tortured soul within the scales, the human will buried beneath layers of Endless's corruption. This was no mindless monster. This was a man who had been betrayed, enslaved, and shackled in flesh not his own.

"Damn Endless…" Christopher growled, his aura flaring as crimson light coiled around him like a tempest. "To twist someone into this… I'll end it. I'll end your suffering!"

The Wyvern King lunged, jaws opening wide to unleash another torrent of black fire. Christopher sprinted forward, refusing to retreat, his Crimson Blade igniting in a blinding arc. He slashed upward, cleaving the flames in two—the explosion of heat and power blasting him backward, but he forced himself onward, gritting through the burns searing his skin.

Their clash was brutal, primal. Christopher's sword met claw, fang, and tail in an unending storm of violence. Each strike rattled the bones of both man and beast, the ground fracturing beneath their ferocity. The wyvern's talons scraped across his chest, spilling blood, but Christopher countered with a vicious strike to its neck, crimson energy detonating against its scales. The air cracked and bled light with every blow.

But Christopher wasn't fighting to simply win—he was fighting to release.

"COME ON!" Christopher roared, eyes blazing, his aura erupting higher than ever before. "If there's even a shred of you left, then fight me with it! Show me your will!"

The wyvern shrieked, staggering back. For a moment, its eyes flickered—gold fighting against red, human memories clawing at the beast's imposed instincts. The creature faltered, shaking its head violently, torn between two existences.

Christopher saw his chance. He leapt high, aura condensing into a spiraling maelstrom around his blade. The Crimson Blade pulsed with ancient fury, as though it, too, mourned the fallen warrior.

"I'll free you…" he whispered through gritted teeth, voice breaking. "…even if it means cutting you down!"

With a scream that tore through his soul, Christopher drove his blade into the wyvern's chest.

The beast roared, not in anger, but in pain—deep, soul-wrenching pain. Blood and light exploded outward, staining the skies crimson. The wyvern's claws tore into Christopher's shoulder, impaling him, but he refused to let go. His aura surged, the Crimson Blade burning brighter and brighter until it pierced not just flesh, but spirit.

The wyvern's massive body convulsed, its wings flapping wildly, shaking the battlefield below. Around them, orcs, goblins, and Labyrinth beasts froze mid-combat, gazes dragged skyward at the catastrophic clash.

And then it happened.

The wyvern's eyes—once burning red—shifted. They softened, golden for a fleeting instant. Within them, Christopher saw the man who once was: a proud warrior, betrayed and cursed, yet still yearning for freedom. Tears burned Christopher's eyes as the creature gave one final, shuddering breath.

"…Thank… you…"

The voice was faint, fragile, but it reached him. The wyvern's form began to fracture, scales dissolving into dust, claws fading into light.

Christopher fell to his knees as the beast disintegrated before him, leaving nothing but silence and a faint shimmer of golden particles that drifted into the wind.

The Crimson Blade pulsed one final time before settling, dim but alive, as though acknowledging the soul it had just freed.

Christopher's body trembled, bloodied and battered, but his heart was heavier than the wounds. His eyes stayed fixed on the fading light.

"You fought to the end…" he whispered, voice hoarse. "…and I swear your pain won't be in vain."

As the golden dust scattered into the air, carried into the endless sky, Christopher bowed his head. Then he forced himself back onto his feet, Crimson Blade in hand. Around him, the battle raged on, fiercer than ever, but something inside him had shifted.

This wasn't just a war to kill.

It was a war to liberate.

And he would carve that freedom with his blade, no matter how much blood it demanded.

For a heartbeat, the battlefield was silent. The golden dust of the fallen Wyvern King drifted upward like the last embers of a dying flame. The orcs, goblins, and labyrinth creatures stood frozen, their bestial eyes tracking the sky where their mighty leader had just perished at Christopher's blade.

Hope flickered in the hearts of Eldoria's warriors. Whispers spread among the bloodied ranks—It's over. We've won. Their leader is dead.

But that hope shattered in the next instant.

ROAR!!

ROAR!!

The creatures' silence broke into a collective roar, primal and unhinged. Orc warlords pounded their chests until their bones cracked, goblins screeched with guttural fury, and the labyrinth beasts threw back their heads in maddened howls. Their eyes, once driven by discipline under their commanders, now burned with wild desperation.

"They're… not retreating?" one soldier gasped, clutching his spear tighter.

"No…" another stammered, horror twisting across his face as the horde surged forward. "They're going mad!"

The ground shook beneath a tidal wave of bodies as the leaderless monsters threw themselves at the lines of Eldoria. Not with strategy. Not with caution. But with blind, suicidal frenzy.

"BRACE YOURSELVES!" cried Charlotte, voice cracking as she raised her shield.

BOOM!!!

The first impact came like thunder. A wall of flesh, claws, and steel slammed into Eldoria's weary warriors. Men and women staggered, shields splintering, spears shattering under the weight. Blood sprayed, screams tore through the night, and the battlefield descended into raw carnage.

"What in the...."

Christopher, still bleeding and barely standing, looked on with wide eyes. His Crimson Blade trembled in his grip. He had slain their king, ended his suffering… but instead of breaking, the horde had only grown more frenzied, more terrifying.

Across the battlefield, Drake and Rodriguez locked gazes with him, their expressions mirroring the same grim realization. This wasn't victory.

It was the beginning of slaughter.

And high above them, where Endless faced Kaelen in a storm of dark mana and blazing light, the Eternal's laughter rumbled like thunder.

"You thought cutting off the head would end the beast?" Endless's voice rolled across the battlefield, cruel and mocking. "Fools… without chains, a beast only thrashes harder."

The warriors of Eldoria were being drowned in chaos. And as the swarm crashed down upon them from all sides, the night screamed with one truth:

The true battle had only just begun.