“Get over here, you beast!” The Kuso members saw the culprit, and rage flared like dry tinder.

Andrew’s face hung heavy with fear, ashen and tight. He was ringed by black-and-red-clad bruisers with snarling faces, and the Dusk Legion stood tall, hands behind their backs, eyes like winter knives.

They had expected the culprit to be a bloated pig or a rat-faced thug, yet he looked barely past thirty.

His stubbled jaw carried a mature magnetism; his build stood straight as a spear. His messy blond hair hinted at noble polish. No one could link him to the ruthless spark that nearly lit a world-shaking war.

Supported by many hands, Gill drew a breath of strength, while Bloodhand Gang soldiers around them lost all faith and reason to fight. They unbuckled helmets, knelt, and raised both hands, like reeds bowing to a storm.

Their faces turned to ash, as if Judgment Day had walked in; pride and confidence crumbled, and nothing breaks you worse than being outclassed.

For a long time, they wouldn’t find the spine to face Medith and the others again. The black sun banner over the castle became a chasm they couldn’t cross.

“You’re their leader?” Gill moved toward him, voice thin but edged, like frost on iron. “What a face... fit for damnation.” Jade returned to his ghost-mask look and offered up the Bloodsword with both hands.

Gill took the Bloodsword and, heavy and slow, tolled Andrew’s death knell with its weight.

Andrew shoved backward, desperate to put space between them. The black-and-red host pressed in, ringed him tight, and didn’t strike—only stared, eyes near spitting fire.

“W–wait... I... I’m sorry... I’m sorry, I didn’t think it’d go this far, I really—aaah—” Gill’s blade came down; his left wrist flew, blood spraying like a torn banner.

Andrew almost blacked out from the pain; his wrist burned with drilling agony, his soul felt ripped, and sweat beaded like rain on stone.

“I... I can give you money, status, women—everything you want, I can... aaah— aaah—” Another cut bit into bone.

Gill’s face shifted with each swing, from blank stone to a snarling mask, then fever-bright. Flesh and blood flew; blood dyed the earth a cruel red.

Every Kuso member stayed expressionless, watching coldly, like statues in a temple at dusk.

Medith looked at Peggy’s shocked little face and lifted a hand to shield her sight. “Don’t look. You’ve endured enough today.”

Peggy gently drew Medith’s slender hand away. Her expression hardened, deep and strangely relieved. “No... I need to witness it all and carve it into my mind. Day and night I’ll remind myself—the Dusk Legion never shortchanges anyone, and we never use a mighty enemy as an excuse to go soft. Sister Medith... we... avenged you...” Tears fell, tangled with a thousand feelings.

Sais’s eyes reddened with mist, and the Lina Sisters had already broken into sobs, like snapped zither strings.

Iling’s lips trembled. While she wasn’t here, something this heavy happened. If only she’d been there—she’d have taken it all on, and maybe none of this was needed.

“If you want to cry, then cry. The world itself is cruel and cold; when a person goes cold, that’s the real tragedy.” Jade patted Iling’s shoulder. “Me, I’ve long forgotten what grief feels like.” Iling finally couldn’t hold it back and broke down, sobbing like rain.