DIIIIIING

The sound of the third strike rang out, deep and resonant, shaking the fabric of space itself. The vibration rippled through the void like a wave of thunder that refused to die.

"Hm?" The familiar echo caught Amon's attention instantly. His head snapped toward the source, instincts sharp, his expression tightening with tension. He remembered clearly what big brother Sakaar had told them—that something extraordinary, something decisive, would occur on the third strike.

"What…?"

The word escaped his lips involuntarily as his eyes widened. Amon stumbled back a few steps, shocked to his core. The space where he looked was… empty. No light, no form, no trace—just the cold, endless void stretching infinitely in all directions.

Planet Verilion had vanished. Completely. Simply gone, erased from existence like it had never been there at all.

"Heh... heheh..."

Fargus glanced back over his shoulder. His breath was ragged, his chest heaving in exhaustion.

Blood continued to pour from his mouth in slow, heavy drops, soaking his uniform so thoroughly that the fabric clung to his skin. Yet despite the agony, despite the fact that his body trembled from pain, a faint, triumphant smile curved his lips. His mission was done. His role for today was complete. Verilion would live to see another dawn.

"Oooooooohhhhhh—!!"

From the void came a roar that split reality itself. The space beast lunged forward for the third and final time, its colossal form twisting through the stars. This time—

CRAAAAACK

The great Wall of Crumbled Dreams—once believed unbreakable—shattered into a thousand luminous fragments. The beast tore through it with unstoppable momentum, continuing its furious charge forward as if enraged by the very act of resistance.

"Ghhhaa—"

Marshal Fargus's pupils rolled back beneath his eyelids. That last impact crushed his spirit; it broke his will, his endurance, and even the remnants of his consciousness. His mind slipped into darkness, and his body went limp.

"Oh no—no, no, this is bad! This is really bad!!" Amon cried out, his voice trembling as he watched the monstrous spectacle unfold. The space beast was closing in at terrifying speed—its shadow engulfed Fargus's unconscious body, jaws yawning open to devour him whole.

Amon's heart pounded, but he didn't move forward. He knew what would happen if he tried to save him. With that monstrous speed and power, he would be swallowed alive in an instant.

He clenched his fists. No… he wouldn't die here. Not for that man. Not for Verilion. His service to his Lord was far from over—he still had centuries left to offer.

But then—just as Amon was silently mourning Fargus's inevitable death—woooosh!

Something stirred in the emptiness. One of the scattered blood daisies drifting through space, close to Fargus, suddenly flared with light. It began to move. Gently, it started to push his body… and astonishingly, another daisy moved too, nudging the massive dark cauldron beside him.

"Oooohhhhhh///"

At the last possible moment, right before one of the bearded whale's mountainous fangs could crush Fargus's body—woosh!—the glowing daisy forced him out of harm's way, twisting space slightly as it propelled him aside.

DOOOOOOM

Even the mere swimming motion of that enormous creature created waves in the fabric of the void. Space itself rippled like liquid glass. Those immense shockwaves struck both the daisy and Marshal Fargus, who was still so close that their energies intertwined. The daisy exploded instantly into a cloud of glittering fragments, and Fargus's body convulsed violently—bones straining, muscles twisting, his form nearly crushed beneath the invisible pressure.

"Come here!!"

Amon dashed closer—just enough to stay safe—and extended his colossal hammer. Its gravitational pull locked onto Fargus and the cauldron, yanking them both toward him with overwhelming force. Without wasting a heartbeat, he flung himself backward at full speed, retreating across the void. He didn't even dare wait to properly catch Fargus's body.

Because he knew what was coming next. Someone—or something—was about to lose control completely.

And indeed—

"Oooooooooooooooooooohhhhhh///////////---"

The Bearded Whale unleashed a roar so powerful it tore through light itself. The creature had barely squeezed its vast body through the shattered wall, only to find its prize gone—its perfect meal missing.

The whale twisted violently, its immense bulk bending the stars around it. Its enormous eyes darted left and right, scanning the surrounding void with fury and frustration. But no matter how it searched, the luscious, life-filled planet was nowhere to be found.

"Uuuuooohhh///"

With one last earth-shattering bellow, the beast turned and sped away, its form fading into the black horizon of the cosmos. It didn't even glance at Fargus or Amon. They were beneath its notice—insignificant compared to the feast it had just lost. The moment the planet vanished, so did its interest. It would not waste its strength here. It had to hunt anew.

"..."

Amon watched silently, every muscle in his body tense, until the monstrous presence faded beyond the reach of his soul sense. Only then did he release a long, trembling breath. His gigantic frame began to shrink, collapsing in on itself until he returned to his normal size. He drifted forward, cautiously approaching Marshal Fargus's body, his expression grave.

He examined him carefully. There were no broken bones, no external injuries. Neither the space beast nor Marshal Brontor had managed to harm him physically in the chaos.

Yet... his condition was critical. His inner reserves were completely drained. His soul force was nearly extinguished. He had even drawn upon a portion of his life essence to survive. Using that strange cauldron, he had forced himself to manifest a level of power he was never meant to reach through normal means.

Now, his body trembled faintly, caught between life and collapse. His energy was gone, his consciousness adrift. The cost of his defiance was written all over him—Marshal Fargus had given everything.

He would need an long period of recovery and rest before he could even dream of standing again… and that certainly wouldn't happen out here, in the lifeless expanse of space. The void offered no comfort, no healing—only silence, radiation, and endless cold. If they wanted him to live, they had to get out of here. Fast.

"If you're thinking of eating him, forget it…"

The voice came suddenly from behind Amon, deep and calm, cutting through the emptiness like a blade. "That man is still vital to Verilion's defense."

"What do you take me for?!" Amon barked, spinning around sharply. His hammer gleamed faintly under the pale light of the stars as he turned onto the figure approaching through the void—Sakaar, his pace steady, his presence unshaken despite everything.

Seeing him alive wasn't much of a surprise—Amon had already suspected it. Those soul daisies scattered across the battlefield wouldn't have moved of their own accord. The terrifying blood shroud that had enveloped them earlier could never have been formed without Sakaar's full consciousness controlling every pulse and wave.

Yet even so, Sakaar clearly wasn't in his best condition. His armor looked like it had been struck by a star. "Hey, are you… alright?" Amon asked, his tone softening as he took in the sight before him.

The crimson armor that had once gleamed with a royal luster was now warped and caved in around the chest area, metal folded inward like crushed paper. A dark fracture split the center of the breastplate, and from it oozed blood mixed with bits of torn flesh. The damage was brutal—half the armor had been rendered useless, its internal systems barely functioning.

"I'm fine…" Sakaar muttered, his voice rough but steady. "If not for the armor, that strike would've blown my chest apart." He nodded faintly, then brushed past Amon, limping slightly toward where Fargus floated unconscious. "We'll need to send a request to Sky Opening City," he continued, voice firm despite his injuries, "and have them expedite with the high grade epic-grade armor set."

"Heh~" Amon chuckled under his breath. "Even the World Cataclysms and Nexus States we fought today didn't have one of those. We'll be waiting a long time, old friend."

"Let it take long," Sakaar replied, his tone calm, but a flicker of iron resolve shimmered beneath it. "As long as it's worth it." He crouched beside Fargus, examining his wounds for a few moments. Then he nodded decisively. "He's alive. Barely. But we have to get him out of here before something else in this cursed place wakes up."

"Big brother…" Amon's expression hardened as his gaze swept over Sakaar from head to toe. "We need to get you out first. That armor won't hold for long."

The breach in the chestplate meant every built-in life-support system was nearly useless now—air regulation, internal pressure balance, energy circulation—all compromised. Even Sakaar's endurance wouldn't keep him stable forever.

"..." Sakaar didn't argue. He gave a brief, silent nod. "You said the transport ship is still waiting at the coordinates where we first appeared?"

"Not far," Amon confirmed. "An hour's flight at most if we push it."

Sakaar reached out, grabbed both Fargus and the dark cauldron, and handed them to Amon with deliberate care. "These two are your responsibility now," he said quietly. "Don't lose either of them. Not the man… and not that artifact."

Then, slowly, Sakaar spread his arms. A faint hum filled the void as thousands of luminous specks began to drift toward him from every direction. The soul daisies—his scattered extensions of will—were returning. They glowed faintly like a storm of stars gathering under his call, forming spirals of pale light that converged around him.

"Come to think of it…" Amon muttered, eyes narrowing as he watched the spectacle, "there are thousands of those things everywhere. You're not the type to waste your strength without a reason. All these daisies spread out during your attack on the Bull's Head, didn't they? If you'd focused them all on him—or even kept them close for protection—you could've avoided that hit entirely. So tell me, what happened?"

Sakaar chuckled softly beneath his mask, even though his voice trembled faintly from pain. "Who said spreading them was a waste—or a mistake?"

He raised his hand as the blood daisies neared. Despite his exhaustion, he moved his fingers gently across the light petals, almost tenderly, as though caressing a treasure beyond value.

"Amon," he said, his tone lowering to a whisper—one that carried a strange, simmering thrill beneath the weariness. "We didn't lose anything today. In fact…"

He paused, letting a faint, wry smile form under his shattered helm.

"…we just hit the jackpot, as the humans like to say."

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