The courtroom was no longer a place of judgment.

  It was a battlefield of grief, fury, and despair.

  The great chamber, once filled with noble voices, the crack of gavels, the thunder of debate—now drowned beneath wails and broken sobs. Pillars trembled, banners tore loose and drifted from the ceiling like wounded birds, while the scent of blood—thick, metallic, undeniable—rolled across the floor.

  Lady Thallasa knelt upon the cold marbled ground, her body shaking as she cradled the lifeless frame of Lord Caerus. His once-proud face—stern, resolute, a man of cunning ambition—was pale, drained of everything that made him formidable. The cruel stillness of his chest crushed her, each second that passed confirming the unbearable truth: he would not rise again.

  Her tears fell hot onto his armor.

  Her hands, trembling, struck against his chestplate with small, frantic blows—slaps that grew harder, more desperate, as if trying to awaken him, as if rage could bargain with death itself.

  Lady Thallasa:

  "You fool!" she cried, her voice breaking in jagged fragments

  "We had it all planned! Our land, our future—we were so close! Why... why did you let it slip away?!"

  Her fists pounded his body until the steel clanged with hollow resonance. She collapsed over him, sobbing, broken, muttering curses against fate, against Ren, against herself. The world they had schemed to build—vanished in an instant.

  But her grief was drowned out by another sound.

  A chorus of voices—anguished, frantic, rising like a storm.

  "REN!!"

  Stray Dawn. His family—not by blood, but by choice. The girls who fought beside him, laughed beside him, who bled with him through countless battles. Now, they rushed through the chaos, their cries ringing like shattered bells.

  Elly stumbled first, her hands clutching at nothing as her voice cracked, "Ren! Hang on—please hang on!!" Her eyes searched wildly, desperate, as if sheer force of will could keep him tethered to life.

  Lily followed, the elegant calm that once adorned her face ripped away, replaced by pure horror. She knelt beside Ren's fallen body, her hands hovering, trembling, not knowing where to touch, what to do—fear strangling every movement.

  Jonax, usually so detached, so unreadable, broke entirely. She fell to her knees and gripped Ren's limp hand, pressing it to her forehead as if that single touch could pull him back. Tears streaked her face in uneven rivers.

  Rej and Marian clung to each other, their sobs loud, unrestrained. Marian's voice cracked like a broken bowstring, "Don't leave us, Ren! You can't—you're stronger than this!" while Rej, wild-eyed, shook her head in disbelief, as though the scene before her was some cruel play.

  Cedy staggered, trying to keep composed, but her whole body trembled as she knelt at Ren's side. "You always had a way out, always... there has to be a way out of this too," she whispered, her lips quivering.

  Kristie broke entirely. She clawed at the ground, her laughter and sobs tangled together in a chaotic mess. "No, no, no—don't you dare! Don't you dare leave us like this!" she screamed, her voice raw.

  Rica—calm even in storms—couldn't mask it this time. She dropped to Ren's side, her face twisting as tears streamed unchecked. Her hands pressed on his wound, trying to staunch what couldn't be stopped. Her voice rose above the others in a command born of desperation:

  "Stay with us, Ren! Do you hear me?! You're not allowed to give up—NOT YET!"

  And then—

  Little Seri, the youngest, the smallest, yet in that moment, the bravest.

  Her tiny hands trembled as she summoned Bubbles, her koi-bond. The glowing fish shimmered into existence, fins trailing light like ribbons. It swam above Ren's chest, spilling threads of healing energy into his wound. His body glimmered faintly, flesh knitting, blood retreating...

  But too slowly. Far too slowly.

  Rica:

  "He's healing... but—it's not enough,"

  Seri sobbed, her voice fragile, her magic flickering under the weight of panic.

  "Please, Bubbles, faster, faster!"

  Rica's voice cut like thunder.

  "He's healing too slow! He's lost too much blood! We—we're losing him—IVEERRR!! WE'RE LOSING HIM!!"

  Her cry tore through the chamber.

  And somewhere beyond the circle of despair, Iver froze. His sword, slick with blood, trembled in his grip. His eyes—usually sharp, logical—blurred beneath a flood of tears. Beside him, Josh's guttural cry ripped the air.

  They were chasing Veyla.

  The mad witch danced across shattered pews, her laughter a jagged knife slicing through the grief. She leapt with unnatural grace, skirts whipping in the air, her voice echoing like poisoned bells.

  Veyla:

  "You can scream all you want! He's finished!" she sang, mocking, cruel.

  "Even if your precious Starbeast could rewrite fate itself, even if you pulled life out of death, even if you begged the heavens for mercy—"

  She landed atop the judge's pulpit, her silhouette haloed by the broken light streaming from above. Slowly, deliberately, she lifted her hands.

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  And there it was.

  A heart.

  Ren's heart.

  Clasped between her pale fingers, still slick with fresh blood.

  The sight froze the chamber. Silence thundered in their ears.

  Veyla:

  "You cannot heal what no longer exists," Veyla whispered, her smile wide, venomous.

  "How do you mend a man with nothing left in his chest?"

  She squeezed.

  Blood dripped between her fingers, spattering the marble like a painter's cruel brushstrokes.

  Josh's roar shook the chamber.

  "YOU WRETCHED DEMON!!"

  His blade clashed against the stone as he launched forward, reckless, maddened. Iver followed, his own cry less a shout and more a howl of grief, his composure annihilated, his very soul laid bare.

  Their swords slashed wildly, desperately, trying to reach her, to end her, to make her pay. But Veyla only laughed, skipping away from their strikes with mocking ease.

  Meanwhile, Stray Dawn collapsed around Ren.

  Elly clawed at her own arms, nails breaking skin as she sobbed, "Tell me what to do, Rica! Tell me—please! I'll summon Koirin, I'll—"

  "No!" Rica snapped, grabbing her wrist. "This place will collapse—you'll kill us all!"

  Elly shook, her face breaking apart, her tears falling like shattered pearls. "Then what do we do?! What do we do?!" Her voice cracked, hopeless.

  But there was no answer. Only Seri's tiny voice, begging her koi to heal faster, her little body trembling with effort. Only Kristie's broken laughter, only Jonax's whispered prayers, only Lily's voiceless sobs.

  They were unraveling.

  All of them.

  And in the distance, Josh and Iver screamed their fury, their blades carving through shadow as Veyla spun away, clutching Ren's heart like a trophy.

  And through it all, the chamber echoed with despair—

  a grief so thick, so suffocating, it seemed to drown even the light itself.

  For the first time, Stray Dawn—the unbreakable, the unshakable—collapsed not against an enemy's blade, but against the cruel, unbearable truth:

  Their brother was gone.

  And nothing, not even the stars, could save him now.

  ....

  The battlefield stilled for a heartbeat. Then Josh and Iver's rage ignited it anew.

  Josh's fists clenched, his breath like a storm. "You'll pay for this!" His voice tore through the ruin like thunder.

  Beside him, Iver's eyes burned—not with fire, but with that cold, steady fury only he could carry. He said nothing. His silence was a vow.

  Josh:

  "COME, HORNY!"

  Josh bellowed. The earth cracked as his Minotaur Bond surged forth, a hulking beast of muscle and rage, horns scraping sparks as they carved through stone.

  Iver:

  "Drakehound."

  Iver's words were quiet, but the response was not. Drakehound tore into existence—sleek, reptilian muscle bound with canine ferocity, scales glimmering with steam curled from its jaws.

  Across them, Veyla tilted her head, almost amused.

  Veyla:

  "Ohhh? You want to play with me? How exciting." She clapped her hands like a child being offered a new toy. Shadows rippled, and from behind her stepped... something deceptively soft.

  It was a rabbit. White as snow. Its eyes glowed pink, fur pristine, ears long and floppy. It hopped daintily beside her, blinking up at the two Bonds.

  Then its mouth opened. Rows of jagged, obsidian teeth stretched impossibly wide, dripping black ichor onto the frozen ground.

  Veyla:

  "Meet Momo,"

  Veyla cooed, stroking its head like it was harmless.

  Veyla:

  "Don't let the fluff fool you. She bites."

  Josh spat.

  "Bring it."

  The battlefield erupted.

  Horny charged, each hoof shaking the ruins with seismic fury. His axe, forged from enchanted iron, cleaved down in a brutal arc toward Veyla.

  Momo the Rabbit blurred—its tiny body stretching, bending, becoming something serpentine in its speed. The axe struck empty air as the creature lunged at Horny's throat, teeth latching like a vice.

  The Minotaur roared, thrashing, ripping the beast away and slamming it into a pillar. The stone cracked, dust falling like snow.

  Josh dove in, fists blazing with energy, each punch erupting sparks as they collided with Veyla's blade.

  Veyla:

  "You're slow,"

  Veyla taunted, twisting out of reach. Her movements were liquid, her smile razor sharp.

  At her flank, Iver advanced. Drakehound darted forward, claws slashing, jaws snapping with fire. Every strike forced her backward, each blow coordinated with Josh's raw fury.

  For the first time, Veyla stumbled.

  Veyla hummed

  "Oh, you're actually trying."

  The battle escalated.

  Josh hurled debris, ripping chunks of broken wall and launching them like meteors. Iver struck with surgical precision, blades flashing like mirrored stars. Horny grappled Momo, trying to wrench the beast's jaw open, while Fenric sank its fangs into its hind leg, freezing flesh black.

  Josh:

  "Die already!"

  Josh roared, his knuckles shattering against her guard.

  But Veyla only laughed, ducking beneath his swings, her rabbit snapping at his heels.

  Veyla:

  "Is this grief? Is this anger? This is too much fun."

  Every dodge, every parry, was mocking. She was toying with them.

  Until—

  Iver's eyes narrowed. His strikes changed rhythm, sharp and measured. He began guiding her steps. Each blow funneled her, nudging her toward the ruined archway at their back.

  Josh caught on. He pressed harder, reckless and wild, every strike a distraction from the trap they wove.

  Step by step, Veyla retreated—playful grin unbroken—until her heel brushed stone.

  Too late, she realized.

  Iver struck.

  His blade drove forward, plunging clean through her skull. A wet, decisive crack echoed as the steel burst from the back of her head.

  For a moment, silence.

  Veyla blinked. Her body twitched. Then—

  Veyla:

  "Ohhh..." she cooed, voice airy.

  Veyla:

  "Congratulations." She tilted her head despite the sword impaling it, her smile twisted and wrong. "But sorry—there will be no prizes this time around."

  The weight of her words froze the air.

  Her form flickered. Cracks spread across her body like glass under strain, glowing with dark, violet light.

  Veyla:

  "...Seems like playtime's over."

  And then she was gone. Her body disintegrated into motes of shadow, scattering like ash in the wind.

  Josh collapsed to his knees. His fists bled from striking her. His Bond limped, one horn cracked. Drakehound whined lowly, smoke rising from its jaws.

  Iver stood frozen, blade still extended into nothing. His hand trembled. His chest rose and fell, ragged and shallow.

  He sank to his knees, the weight of hollow victory crushing him.

  Iver:

  "It doesn't..." His voice broke. "It doesn't feel like a victory."

  And then he roared.

  The sound tore from his chest raw and unrestrained, echoing through the ruin like a beast's lament. He screamed at the empty ceiling, at the heavens that had stolen Ren, at the silence that mocked their suffering.

  It was grief given form, a sound that rattled the bones of everyone present.

  ...

  Far away, in the heart of the Cult's lair...

  A dimly lit chamber hummed with quiet malice. Velvet curtains swayed. Candles flickered with black flame.

  Veyla lounged on a couch, head resting lazily on her palm, as if she hadn't just been slain. She twirled a strand of her hair, lips curled in amusement.

  Veyla:

  "Oh, they managed to kill the clone," she said, almost impressed.

  Veyla:

  "Hehe... took them a while. At least they received our message, right... Father?"

  Behind her, a massive desk loomed in shadow.

  From the darkness, a figure stirred. His presence was suffocating, like gravity itself had bent around him.

  He leaned forward, the faint glow of his eyes cutting through the dark. His voice was calm, deep, and absolute.

  ???:

  "Good," he said. "Now they understand."

  A pause.

  "Hope is nothing but the slowest poison."

  And the candles snuffed out.

  move.

  Not abandoning BondForged.

  Just… stalled.

  “I’m not gone. I’m just rethinking my life choices.”