Eko stood at the shoreline, the familiar landscape a jarring contrast to the carnage of the battlefield from which she had been ripped. The ocean lapped at her bloodied ankles, its saltwater stinging her torn skin, while a cool sea breeze swept away clumps of matted hair, its brine-kissed scent filling her lungs—but it did nothing to still the raging storm inside her.

Her gaze drifted upward, locking onto a distant speck—a forlorn planet struggling to shine through a thick wall of oppressive clouds. The feeble morning sun fought to break through, but the clouds, dense and unyielding, kept the darkness alive.

The fading echoes of Matthew's power still clung to her skin like a ghostly caress, persistently gnawing at her thoughts. Beneath that spectral residue, a deeper dread had taken root. She could feel the thunderous beats of his magic—as if he stood right beside her—their bond more intense than ever, even as his raw, unfamiliar power shook her core with its effortless brutality.

Stumbling forward, Eko felt another pulse of power ripple through her body, the water lapping at her feet as disorientation splintered at the sound of ragged moaning. She whirled around, wet sand clinging to her ankles, and beheld the carnage: wounded mages, fallen elders, and bodies scattered along the surf. Her heartbeat thundered in her ears—she felt like a ghost haunting the wrong battlefield.

Then her gaze snapped to Teshia, huddled beside a bloodied man, her trembling hands hovering uncertainly over his wounds. In the moment their eyes met, Teshia froze, her face draining of color, and for an eternity in a heartbeat, neither moved.

"You're... alive?" Teshia whispered, her voice nearly drowned by the crashing waves. Disbelief laced every trembling syllable as she clapped a hand over her mouth. "Sera?" The name fell like both a prayer and a curse.

Eko could only stand there, silent and torn by the misused title. She wasn't Sera—the revered princess of two worlds. She was Eko, a fighter, a woman who had carved out her own existence. She wasn't meant to be here, safely stranded on this desolate shore, where the air reeked of salt and blood—the very trappings of what a princess was supposed to embody. Eko was meant to be in the fray, at the heart of battle alongside her husband, as it had always been.

Her hands curled into tight fists as a fierce, reckless resolve surged through her. She had to go back.

Teshia saw it then—the hardened line of Eko's jaw, the blazing fury in her eyes. Panic flashed across Teshia's face, and she lurched to her feet, her voice high with alarm. "Don't!"

But Eko had already begun to turn, determined and unyielding. She couldn't wait. She couldn't remain a bystander any longer. And Teshia, reading the grim resolve etched on the woman's face, understood all too well.

Ignoring Teshia's plea, Eko thrust her hands forward, raw desperation bleeding into every movement as she willed the magic to return. Sparks flared—a faint, fragile glimmer of power—but they fizzled out before they could take form.

A strangled cry tore from her throat as frustration coiled around her heart. Her nails dug deep into her palms, a futile attempt to stave off the crushing weight of hopelessness. Her magic had never failed her before—not when it mattered most.

"Work, damn it!" Eko screamed, her voice cracking with raw emotion. Sparks danced briefly at her fingertips, then scattered like grains of broken glass. "Please, God!" she begged, each word choked by sobs, her entire body trembling with urgency. "WORK! TAKE ME BACK TO HIM!"

She heard Teshia's sharp intake of breath behind her, felt the quiet, desperate pity radiating from her friend. But Eko couldn't stop. She refused to yield. With one final, all-consuming surge, she poured every ounce of her being into the magic.

Nothing happened.

It was as if an unseen force had struck her down. Her knees begun to buckle, and the crushing weight of failure slammed against her chest, robbing her of breath.

Teshia lunged forward, wrapping her arms around Eko in a frantic embrace, pulling her close as if her very presence could anchor Eko's unraveling soul.

"Stay," Teshia pleaded, her voice trembling with raw emotion. "You have to stay! They're after you—your Highness!"

Eko's fingers dug into Teshia's clothes, her entire body quaking uncontrollably. She wasn't meant to be here. She was meant to be with him. A jagged, broken sob tore from her chest—a sound raw and desperate.

"I... I can't stay here," she choked out, her breath a barely audible whisper that nonetheless carried the full weight of her anguish. Her ribs burned with the strain of ragged breathing, and her hands twitched as if seeking solace in a power that had abandoned her.

Another sob escaped, sharp and agonizing. "Oh, God..."

In a moment of desperate fury, she tore herself free from Teshia's grip and staggered back, reaching out for the elusive power that refused to come. She spread her hands wide, commanding the sparks to return, demanding them with every fiber of her being.

A single flicker—a brief, fragile spark—danced at her fingertips. Then, crushingly, it faded into nothing.

A savage, animalistic sound tore from her—a guttural mix of sob and snarl that seemed to shake her very core. Her hands trembled uncontrollably, nails biting into her palms as if trying to hold her together. "Let me go back!" she screamed, her voice ragged and unhinged, throbbing with unbearable pain. "TAKE ME BACK!"

Her body convulsed in a futile rebellion against the crushing despair, while Teshia's arms circled around her once more, holding her back, holding her together. Eko fought against the tide, thrashing and clawing at the air, her desperate screams echoing into the void.

"MATTHEW!"

His name shattered the air—a plea and a prayer intertwined, desperate supplication to whatever cruel gods had orchestrated this nightmare.

Again, she screamed, "MATTHEW!". Again. Again.

Her voice was shredded raw, reduced to only the sound of anguish, swallowed by the relentless roar of the ocean and the crashing of waves against the cliffs—indifferent, deafening, utterly uncaring.

A strangled sob finally erupted as her legs gave out, sending her collapsing onto the sand. Saltwater lapped at her knees while her hands reached out futilely, grasping at nothing. Teshia caught her in a final, desperate embrace, wrapping both arms around Eko's trembling form.

"Matthew, please!" Eko sobbed into Teshia's shoulder, her remaining strength crumbling away. "Come back..." Her voice broke into a shattered whisper as she completely, utterly fell apart.

**** *****

Jesse, Toni, and Jasmine stood rooted in grim silence, their hearts twisting with horror as chaos descended around them. They had watched, wide-eyed and trembling, as Matthew violently shoved Eko away in a blaze of raw, unbridled power—then watching him pivot sharply, lightning flickering at his fingertips—and then charge headlong toward the beast with reckless fury.

Toni advanced with determined resolve, only to freeze as Xero materialized before him like a dark omen.

Weapons drawn, Jesse and Jasmine tensed, the air crackling with palpable menace. Toni moved closer, his eyes narrowed and predatory, sizing up Xero with lethal focus.

"Ah, Toni-boy," Xero sneered, a sick grin twisting his lips. Despite the fresh wounds still marring his body from the earlier fight, he radiated pure menace, his gaze sliding from Toni to Jesse and then to Jasmine. "Ladies, hope you're ready to meet your maker."

Toni's jaw clenched as he barked, voice tight with simmering rage, "Jesse, Jasmine, find Richie and Mya and get out. Now."

Jasmine's eyes flicked over the blood-soaked field to where Richie and Mya huddled together. Something in Mya's stance made her stomach churn—a silent, dire warning that all was not well. "Jesse...?" she whispered, her voice trembling with uncertainty.

But Jesse's focus had zeroed in on Toni and the monstrous figure before him. She remembered all too well how Xero had nearly slain both Toni and Matthew, and the tension in her posture screamed vengeance. "Jazzy, go," she hissed, her words slicing through the air like a sharpened blade. "Rendezvous point. Now."

Jasmine gave a shaky nod and darted away, weaving through the carnage toward Richie and Mya.

"Toni," Jesse called out, her voice wavering between command and desperate caution. "This isn't—"

"Jesse, get the hell out of here," Toni snapped, his eyes never leaving Xero's. "I'm going to put this son of a bitch into the ground once and for all."

Xero's laugh rang out—twisted and triumphant—as he conjured an axe into his hand. The weapon crackled with dark, malignant energy. "Come on, Toni," he snarled, each syllable dripping with savage thirst. "I've waited far too long to get to you and finish you off. Matthew isn't here to save your ass this time."

His gaze slid to Jesse, a spark of malice igniting in his eyes. "And you're next, sweetheart—right after I deal with him. You're not slipping away again. You're going straight back to what you were good at."

Jesse's defiant glare burned with fury as she spat at his feet. "He's going to fucking slaughter you," she declared, her anger barely contained, though she wanted to step forward—only to be held back by Toni's outstretched hand, his presence a grim reminder of the stakes.

Toni's voice emerged low and menacing, as if another, darker side had taken over. "I'm going to rip your head from your fucking body," he snarled.

"Finish this," Jesse commanded, her tone sharp and unyielding. "Fucking finish him, once and for all!" With one final, grim glance, she vanished into the chaos following the ones she loved.

Alone now, Toni angled his head, a vicious crack echoing as he rolled his neck.

Xero laughed, a cold, bitter sound dripping with hatred. "You want me dead? Come and kill me, little boy!"

Every muscle in Toni's body tensed with lethal intent as he lunged forward. The thirst for vengeance roared through his veins, driving each movement with an insatiable desire to spill Xero's blood and end the nightmare that had haunted them for far too long.

He would make him pay for everything—from that first twisted encounter in their childhood to this very moment. It all ended here.

***** ******

Matthew's gaze locked onto the Beast—a figure as immobile as a statue, yet radiating a suffocating aura of raw, untamed power. Every piercing glance from the Beast seemed to dissect him with deadly intent, marking him as no ordinary foe. Though they had never met before, Matthew could feel the colossal strength emanating from this enemy—a challenge worthy of his rage.

Only a few hundred meters separated the hunter from his prey. Matthew's grip on his sword tightened as every muscle in his body tensed with lethal precision, ready to close the gap. The storm raging within him demanded release, yet he knew that far greater forces were at work. Deep in the marrow of his bones, he understood he possessed the power—and the magnitude—to execute his plan. With a swift, decisive motion, he swept his palm forward, unleashing a visible, trembling wave of magic that surged outward.

Around him, the snarling horde of monsters faltered; they froze in place, as if bound by invisible chains. Claws scraped helplessly at the ruined soil, and their ferocious howls dwindled to muffled snarls. A faint, grim smile tugged at Matthew's lips as his attention snapped back to the Beast, whose crimson gaze remained unreadable.

For a moment, confusion flickered across the Beast's features as his eyes darted across the battlefield. The remaining monsters and youmas—those still upright and those barely clinging to life—stood paralyzed under the weight of Matthew's magic. Tremors shook the unstable ground, echoing the final, dying roars of the time paradox.

Matthew exhaled slowly, allowing himself a fleeting, grim smile as he surveyed the carnage. Some of the creatures lay savagely slain, while others writhed and thrashed in fruitless attempts to break free. Their powers had been nullified; now their guttural snarls reverberated through the air like a mournful chorus of futile rage.

The Beast narrowed his eyes, fixing his gaze on the lone warrior who stood unscathed amid the chaos. "I'm impressed by this version of you," he scoffed, amusement lacing his tone ever so faintly. "All things considered, I didn't expect that."

Matthew remained silent as the Beast's words faded into a distant, dull murmur, swallowed by the sharp ringing in his ears. The repeated blows Cid had dealt to his temple left him with nothing but a persistent buzz and a throbbing ache behind his eyes, each breath echoing in his head as if he were drowning, his balance teetering as though the very ground were shifting beneath him.

Yet his steel-blue gaze stayed locked on the Beast—unrelenting. His body screamed for violence; the sword in his grip yearned to slice through flesh with one swift, decisive strike. But he held back. He had sacrificed too much already to let raw impatience derail his carefully laid plan—a plan destined to obliterate the Beast and every last horror in its wake.

Forcing his breath to steady, he tightened his grip on the hilt, sweat trickling down his brow as heat pulsed through his veins. Trusting cold calculation over burning fury, Matthew stepped back and planted his palm on the fractured, desolate surface of the moon they stood on. Another surge of magic rippled outward, ensnaring the writhing monsters and binding them tighter to the planet's crumbling surface. All the while, he never once broke his gaze from the Beast, a slow, sadistic smile curving his lips.

"Let's go, young king," the Beast hissed, his voice dripping with murderous intent as he poised himself to deliver the final blow.

***** *****

Toni's pulse pounded in his ears as he squared off against Xero, both men splattered with blood and lunar dust. The world around them blurred into a chaotic smear, and in that brutal dance only one would leave the fight alive.

"You and that piece of shit over there are both going to fucking die!" Xero bellowed, his fury unleashed as he lunged forward. His axe swung in a savage arc, aimed to cleave Toni's head from his shoulders.

Toni jerked aside at the last split second, but the blade still nicked his bicep, drawing a thin line of blood. He hissed in pain and retaliated by driving one of his daggers into Xero's ribs. Blackish blood oozed from the wound, and Xero roared in rage.

With a snarl, Toni twisted the knife deeper—only for Xero to lash out, smashing the butt of his axe across Toni's jaw. The crushing blow sent Toni reeling, and he lost his footing on the shattered ground, tumbling backward and slamming into the dirt.

Xero did not hesitate. He pounced like a predator, crashing down onto Toni's chest with a force that stole the breath from his lungs. In the ensuing chaos, both their weapons clattered away, slipping out of Toni's grasp. Xero then raised his axe overhead, dark energy pulsing ominously along its edge.

Desperation surged in Toni as he shoved upward, trying to unbalance his foe. But Xero's heavy axe slammed down with brutal precision. Toni managed to twist his torso just in time to evade a fatal blow—yet the impact left a searing, burning cut along his left hand, pinning it to the ground. Agony flared through his arm, and a guttural roar tore from his throat as pain overwhelmed him

Without pause, Xero pressed his boot down on Toni's shoulder, further immobilizing him. In one fluid, vicious motion, he yanked the axe free and drove its edge in a swift, brutal strike along Toni's hand—ripping through flesh and bone in a seamless assault. Toni's scream was swallowed by the chaos around him, even as blood pooled and shock threatened to consume him.

Yet, driven by pure adrenaline, Toni bucked hard, forcing Xero to stagger back a half step—a fleeting moment of resistance amid the relentless brutality of the battlefield.

Xero snarled, his face twisted in raw fury, and swung his axe downward with savage, rage-fueled force. The steel ripped across Toni's forehead, carving through his eyebrow and nose, and slashed diagonally down his cheek like the claw of a beast. Blood streamed into Toni's eye, partially blinding him, as the brutal assault relentlessly continued.

Pain exploded behind his eyes, but Toni refused to succumb. With a savage burst of strength, he wrenched his injured hand free and lunged upward, sinking his teeth into Xero's ear. A wet, sickening rip of tearing cartilage filled the air as Xero howled and staggered backward. Toni spat aside blood and shredded flesh, his chest heaving with raw, desperate determination.

In that frantic heartbeat, Toni's gaze caught the glint of his fallen dagger a few feet away. Ignoring the agony screaming from his ravaged hand, he surged across the dirt, snatched the blade, and whirled just as Xero clutched at his torn ear.

With a bestial cry, Toni drove the dagger into Xero's face. He aimed with brutal precision for the eye. The blade found its mark, slicing through eyelid and socket, as dark, congealed blood exploded across Toni's chest and stained the battlefield. Xero recoiled, a guttural shriek erupting from his throat.

For one agonizing heartbeat, they stared at each other. Toni's vision swam from blood loss; his face was slick with crimson, his hand a mangled, trembling mess. Xero, now missing half an ear and an eye, stumbled, one hand pressed desperately over the gruesome wound.

Then, without warning, the sky roiled with a raging storm. Out of nowhere, clouds gathered—impossibly thick and furious—coalescing into multiple tornadoes that tore across the barren lunar wasteland as if the world itself were unraveling, feeding on the rampant magic that surged around them.

Panting and rasping, Toni fought to remain upright as the tempest swirled overhead. Xero turned his attention back to the man before him, raising his axe once more, his body trembling with fury and defiance. Toni gripped his dagger tighter, his eyes narrowed in equal parts defiance and seething hatred.

Here, on the knife's edge between life and death, neither man planned to show mercy.

**** *****

Matthew stepped forward, his eyes ablaze with defiant fury as he fixed his gaze on the Beast. With a cold, dismissive sneer, he spat, "I'm not wasting my fucking breath on scum like you. I'm ending this." In that charged moment, his magic surged downward in a pulsating torrent that shattered the silence. Raw energy exploded outward, searing the earth beneath his feet with a molten power that ignited the very ground.

Above him, the clouds churned, morphing into tornado-like squalls that roiled with ominous intensity. His unleashed force cascaded like molten fire, seizing the fractured soil and binding the youmas and monsters in an unyielding grip. The inferno roared in response, and as the power throbbed beneath him, the Beast's onyx eyes narrowed in disdain. He watched, a dark smile twisting his lips, as the air itself trembled under the weight of Matthew's wrath.

The Beast stepped back, equal parts impressed and infuriated, as he observed this maddening version of a man—this king—anchoring magic that tethered the monstrous horde to the lunar surface. All around them, molten fire began to rain down, each searing pang burning flesh and driving this wretched creature ever closer to its own obliteration.

"Fight me!" roared the Beast, his voice laced with annoyance. In his mind, this incarnation of the King was unlike any he had encountered in any other timeline—this one wielded a power so vast and intoxicating it defied comprehension. He watched as Matthew's fingers spread wide, channeling an invisible, violent wavelength of magic that made the world around them pulsate with raw, desperate energy. He could almost feel the very planet shuddering and breaking apart beneath the strain—the youmas and monsters, once fearsome and unstoppable, now trapped in a living crucible of flame, their agonized screams echoing as they were burned alive.

"I want you to fucking burn," Matthew hissed. In response, molten lava burst from the scorched earth, forming a blazing wall of fire between him and the Beast. For a heartbeat, the Beast's gaze flickered toward the sudden eruption, momentarily distracted as the wall of flame surged upward. Flames licked at the swirling storm overhead, transforming dark tornadoes into twisting infernos—a mesmerizing, chaotic display of destructive beauty.

Then a thunderclap—a deafening, bone-shaking crack—sliced through the air, heralding the planet's impending collapse. Torrents of lava surged upward, and the very ground trembled with every explosive burst.

Snarling, the Beast's attention snapped back to Matthew, who stood unflinching amid the raging inferno. A cruel, twisted smile curled across the Beast's lips as his gaze drifted past the relentless warrior to fix on the distant figure of Isis—who had come seeking vengeance for the boy who had dared to harm her husband.

***** *****

Toni panted heavily, his left mangled hand pressed against his chest as he struggled to catch his breath. Xero was slowing—each jab from Toni's dagger left a burning mark, especially with one eye missing and his hearing barely functioning.

Toni knew time was running out as the world around them began to shatter; a relentless tempest of fire rained down, turning every movement into a desperate battle for survival.

Taking a deep, steadying breath, Toni spotted his opening as Xero faltered. In one final surge of adrenaline, he drove his dagger deep into Xero's side—a decisive, crushing strike that sent the creature crashing to the ground, its axe clattering amid the chaos. Xero lay there, beaten and gasping, unable to rise.

But even as Toni savored that fleeting victory, the world around him erupted into further chaos. Molten lava surged along the fractured ground, violent eruptions split the sky, and inferno-twisters ravaged everything in their wake. Everything was coming apart too quickly—as if the very fabric of reality were unraveling—and a deep, gnawing dread crept up his spine. Matthew's power had spiraled completely out of control, a force devouring everything in its path.

Then, amid the apocalyptic chaos, the heavens convulsed. The shattered horizon blazed with an eerie, unearthly glow, and the air trembled with an intensity that verged on madness. A deafening roar erupted from the depths of the turmoil—a sound that sent shivers down Toni's spine, promising an even mightier storm was imminent. The inferno-twisters, once wild and untamed, now converged as if steered by a single, malevolent will.

Knowing his time was nearly up, Toni spun back toward the spot where Xero had been, determined to finish the creature once and for all. But when his eyes searched the space, there was nothing—Xero had vanished, swallowed by the chaotic remnants of his own magic. Toni's heart sank; a single moment of distraction had cost him dearly, like a rat slipping through his grasp.

"Fuck!  FUCK!" he roared, his cry a searing blend of rage and despair that shattered the silence. "YOU FUCKING COWARD!"

Searing heat pounded against Toni's skin as his flickering power began to fade. With one final, desperate surge, he forced himself to retreat, scrambling back to Earth and leaving behind an apocalyptic wasteland that threatened to devour everything in its path.

He knew all too well what lay ahead. This wasn't the first time Matthew had unleashed such raw fury—he had reduced entire, once-bright stars to ash in moments of uncontrolled rage. Yet as Toni turned away, his heart pounded with paralyzing dread—a visceral reminder of nights spent watching whole worlds crumble and of relentless pain that left nothing but smoldering embers in its wake. His hands trembled uncontrollably, and cold sweat streamed down his brow as he fought to keep his own buried torment from surging back with full force.

Leaving Matthew on that burning, shattered world tore at Toni's soul. Every instinct screamed for him to stay—to pull Matthew back from the brink—but he knew that to preserve even a fragment of himself, he had to retreat. Each step felt like a betrayal, like abandoning a piece of his heart, yet the relentless torment of what August had wrought had pushed Matthew too far. Now, Eko's lies and half-truths had shattered something deep within him—a fracture he feared would never mend.

As Toni disappeared away, the smoldering ruins behind him whispered of a future drenched in blood and betrayal, a grim promise that nothing would ever be the same again.

**** *****

Matthew had sensed Isis's presence long before this moment—he felt her waiting, watching, calculating the perfect instant to strike. And now, as the battlefield erupted in chaos and the very planet trembled beneath the unleashed fury of magic, he granted her the one chance he would ever allow.

Shifting his focus from the Beast, Matthew turned his head and cast a cold glance over his shoulder. With a firm grip on his sword, he drove the weapon deep into the scorched earth. The metallic ring echoed across the fractured wasteland as molten lava hissed and spat around him, igniting the air with searing heat and drifting ash.

In one swift, fluid motion, he extended his hand toward Isis. A surge of raw power radiated from his palm—a force so potent it seemed to command the very elements themselves. For a heartbeat, her breath caught—no, it stopped entirely. Isis's eyes widened in horror as an invisible grip seized her neck, robbing her of air. She clawed desperately at her throat, gasping and choking as panic consumed her.

"If you won't move," Matthew growled, his voice slicing through the roaring chaos like a sharpened blade, "then I will." His tone was sharp, cold as steel. "On your knees."

The weight of his command pressed down on the molten air. Isis's legs buckled under the relentless force, and she crumpled onto the blistered, scorched terrain. The searing heat clawed at her skin, blistering and burning as she struggled fruitlessly against the invisible hold that silenced her screams.

Matthew advanced slowly, each measured step deliberate as his long shadow stretched over the suffering figure below. His gaze, icy and devoid of pity, locked onto hers. "I've dealt with monsters like you all my life," he sneered, his voice low and dripping with venom. "You fucking locusts—sucking the life out of everything in your path."

He continued, his tone caustic and unforgiving: "You swarm, you destroy, and when there's nothing left, you move on as if nothing ever fucking happened." The invisible force around her tightened, silencing her desperate protests, as if each word he spoke were a final decree sealing her fate.

Then, from the scorched ground, Isis's horrified screams erupted, punctuated by bursts of molten lava splattering against her. Flames licked her flesh, distorting her features as her defiance crumbled into raw agony.

Across the fiery chasm, the Beast stood motionless—a brooding silhouette with onyx eyes that flickered over the carnage with detached, sinister calm. It watched as the river of molten lava surged higher, a towering wall of flame heralding the planet's inevitable demise.

Matthew pulled his hand forward, summoning his sword from the scorched earth until it materialized effortlessly in his grasp. He knew time was slipping away—if he lingered, even he would be devoured by the planet's annihilation. Then, without warning, the Beast stepped forward, its magic surging as it reappeared before Matthew; they stood nearly face-to-face, separated by only a meter, an arm's length that seemed both tantalizing and insurmountable.

The Beast regarded him with gleaming, curious eyes.

"Where are you going? You don't want to fight?" the Beast taunted, cocking its head with a scornful smirk that practically dared him to respond.

Matthew tilted his head in a mocking bow, his teeth bared in bitter contempt. "Why would I waste my fucking breath on you locusts? You're nothing but vermin—lower than the maggots that infest the very earth I was born from. You infect, you swarm, you slaughter everything in your path... why should I waste my time on you when it means nothing? Nothing at all!"

"Ah, but little king, you forget about the locusts bigger than both you and me. So naive—so fucking stupid you and your entire kind are."

"Go fuck yourself." Matthew spat as he slammed his palms downward, and his magic erupted once again. This time, the ground beneath him seemed to come alive—molten lava lashed out like burning chains, wrapping around the Beast's ankles and wrists, binding it in fiery restraints.

"And take your entire fucking army with you!" Matthew roared, his voice ragged and raw, eyes wild with the kind of fury that only came from a soul pushed past its breaking point. He stepped forward, unflinching as firestorm winds howled around him, the world collapsing in molten rage. He stood at the center of it all—burning, broken, and unrepentant.

He drew in a breath that trembled violently in his chest, like something inside him was splintering under the weight. His next words came out strangled, his voice cracking open with everything he'd buried deep. "I want every last one of you to just fucking die! I want you all buried in the ground so I can finally be done with this! I... I'm so fucking done. I am DONE!" His words rang out like a death knell.

Then, with a sound like the heavens ripping in two, the world shattered. In that heart-stopping instant, the fury that had once fueled him shattered him—every betrayal, every loss, every searing moment of pain converging into one cataclysmic release.

Matthew's power roared like a tidal wave as it took him away and the very planet crumbled into oblivion. The Beast remained motionless—silently witnessing the last vestiges of its once-mighty armies dissolve into screams and ash. Their bodies swallowed by torrents of searing lava and relentless flames. Yet it wasn't merely the countless deaths that stirred the Beast—it was the unbridled fury that had unleashed them, a seething, all-too-familiar energy that it recognized with chilling clarity.

Then the Beast laughed—a deep, resonant sound that cut through the chaos like a sharpened blade—as molten chains fell from his wrists and his magic swept him away. It wasn't madness; it was grim clarity. In that moment, he understood the war he would wage in this timeline—a war destined for total annihilation. He would serve as both harbinger and savior in that brutal reckoning.

With a cold, calculated smile, he realized these humans had no idea how far he had come—and that it was too late to stop him now. The Huntress would be freed from her bindings, as inevitable as fate itself. And in the face of destiny, what did one more obstacle matter? What did one more slain king mean?

He would save them all from what was coming.

***** *****

Eko shifted in the water, kneeling in the ocean's shallow edge, while Teshia gently brushed damp, matted hair from her tear-streaked face. On the shoreline, Vause hovered, his gaze fixed on them—on Teshia tenderly consoling the broken princess—until a distant, pulsating light caught his attention.

In a sudden burst of brilliance, Mya, Richie, Jesse, and Jasmine appeared—battered, worn, and scarred from battle, their faces streaked with dirt and their clothes torn, each one exuding a grim, unyielding determination despite looking half-dead.

At their arrival, Eko and Teshia snapped to attention. Eko's eyes widened at the sight of her friends—the desperate hope in their gaze a stark contrast to the devastation around them.

"Where's Matthew? Where's Toni?" Vause demanded, his voice raw with urgency as he shot a sharp look at Jesse, whose eyes flickered from Eko—still half-submerged in the water—to the burning sky.

"Toni's gone after Xero," Richie replied, turning anxiously to Mya. "And Matthew... he's finishing this... all of it."

Mya tried to speak, but only a weak rasp escaped her—her windpipe still too swollen for coherent words. A pained cough wrinkled her features, and Richie's grip tightened around her, his eyes full of worry.

"Easy, Flick," he murmured softly yet firmly, "we need to get you back to a doctor—your powers are shot.

She managed only a small, breathy sound—was it protest or agreement, no one could tell. Vivid red and purple bruises circled her throat like cruel reminders of the violence she'd endured. Richie gently placed a hand on her shoulder, steadying her as she winced, his own face etched with helpless frustration.

Slowly, Eko climbed to her feet, water dripping from her legs as her pulse thundered in her ears. Jasmine rushed to her side, relief and fierce protectiveness mingling in her embrace.

"I'm so glad you're okay," Jasmine whispered, her voice quivering with relief and a trace of lingering fear. Her gaze swept over the battered group, and Eko's eyes followed, catching sight of Mya as she gingerly cradled her bruised neck, then resting on Richie, who offered a weary nod.

"Welcome back, Queenie. I'm glad you made it," he said, though his eyes revealed deep worry as they lingered on Mya's injured throat.

At the edge of the group, Jesse stood in intense silence, her eyes fixed on Eko like a burning knife. The simmering anger beneath her tense posture felt like a heavy weight, pressing down on Eko's very soul.

Then, without warning, a monstrous boom shattered the silence, shaking the very ground beneath them. Every head jerked skyward, drawn by a force beyond control.

A nameless dread crawled across Eko's skin. High above, a colossal red orb pulsed ominously—the surges intensifying in the turbulent, choking atmosphere. It was magic incarnate: devastating, unpredictable, and terrifying.

"Toni?" Jesse gasped, her voice cutting through the chaos and snapping everyone's attention to her. They turned just in time to see him staggering along the beach, clutching his arm. Burns and blood matted the left side of his body, and a jagged gap where a finger should have been screamed of the violence he'd endured.

"Toni!" Eko cried, stumbling forward with raw urgency. "Where's Matthew?"

Toni shot her a glare, a storm of hatred and agony swirling in his eyes. "He's cleaning up your mess," he snarled, his voice trembling with fury.

Tears welled in Eko's eyes, but before she could plead further, a sky-rending boom split the air. All eyes turned upward as the shattered planet in the distance erupted in one final, catastrophic flash of light, forcing them to shield their faces.

A shockwave of unthinkable power slammed into the world, reverberating through Eko's bones— she shuddered, her chest tightening with a surge of mounting panic. Matthew had always been precise and controlled—a master of his fury—but now, his power was spiraling wildly beyond anyone's control. The very thought of it terrified her more than any battle ever had.

Nearby, Mya tried to speak, but only a strangled wheeze emerged; her bruised throat betrayed her inability to form words. Her wide, desperate eyes searched for comfort, landing on Richie, who gently wrapped an arm around her and murmured, "He's fucking losing it—that's what it means. He'll be fine. It's fine... this is fine." But Eko's gaze cut through the reassurance, and she shot Richie a stricken look. It wasn't just the overwhelming scale of Matthew's power that shook her—it was the crushing realization that, for all his calculated precision, he had no idea of the true magnitude of what he wielded. And that, more than anything, filled her with dread.

Before anyone could utter another word, Matthew materialized at the cliffside in a flash. Every eye snapped to him—a bloodied, battered, yet undeniably powerful figure, his hand still crackling with residual energy. He looked like a living testament to war, his skin stained with blood and etched with the raw emotion of every hardship he had endured. In that moment, the entire beachfront fell silent, spellbound by the fierce, chaotic force of his presence.

Then, a sudden, deafening crack boomed from above, compelling every eye to turn skyward. In the distance, the planet itself was tearing apart—a cataclysm of fire and chaos as the very ground crumbled, its magic rippling outward and shaking existence to its core. Countless burning fragments fell like a meteor shower, painting the heavens in a furious, apocalyptic glow.

Amid this devastation, Matthew merely clicked his tongue before slowly turning his head, catching a glimpse of Eko. His gaze locked onto hers with an intensity that made her shiver, as if his very eyes were crushing her with their weight. Then, almost imperceptibly, he shifted his attention toward Jesse and Toni, who immediately felt the gravity of his command.

"Go scout Isadora," Matthew barked, his voice slicing through the chaos like a sharpened blade—vicious, raw, and utterly unrestrained. "Richie, Mya, Jasmine—fall in with them."

Eko's chest tightened, a mix of dread and defiant resolve churning within her, but Matthew wasn't finished. "Vause, Teshia—evacuate the mages immediately." Then his gaze hardened, turning toward Eric. "Eric," he snarled, eyes flashing with venom that sent shivers down both his and Eko's spines, "deal with her."

"Matthew?" Eko stepped forward, uncertainty clashing with defiance. "No—hey?"

"NO! Shut the fuck up!" In that moment, Matthew's eyes blazed with seething fury. His face contorted into a mask of raw, unrestrained rage as he slammed a hand up before him to silence her. "Just SHUT THE FUCK UP!"  he roared, his voice dripping with venom and barely contained fury. "I don't want to hear another fucking word out of your mouth!"

Then, as if the very air itself bowed to his command, his powers coiled and surged around him—and in an instant, he vanished into the ether, leaving behind an echo of burning wrath and a silence that screamed of the repercussions that were to follow.

Eko's mouth fell open as she turned to the group. Richie nodded slowly, his eyes heavy with sympathy, and he took Mya's hand, guiding her away. Jasmine pressed her lips into a thin line, her gaze flickering with uncertainty as she followed them toward Isadora.

Across the chaos, Vause grabbed Teshia's hand and pulled her away from the group. Even he could sense the raw, seething anger radiating from Toni and Jesse, and he refused to be a part of what was coming next. With grim determination, he guided Teshia toward the mages, leading them to another sanctuary that could protect his kind.

"Jesse, we need to go," Toni barked, his voice seething with anger as he glared at her, fully aware of the tempest raging within. Yet, instead of following Toni's command, Eko stepped forward.

"Jesse, please—" Eko pleaded, her voice raw with desperation, certain that only Jesse could understand the depth of her decision.

Before anyone could react, Jesse exploded forward, fury unbound. "HOW COULD YOU BE THIS STUPID?!" she screamed, her words slicing through the tension like a razor. In that heart-stopping instant, a sharp slap crashed across Eko's face—a blow that stunned both Toni and Eric. "SERIOUSLY, WHAT THE FUCK WERE YOU THINKING?" Jesse shrieked, her tone dripping with betrayal and anguish.

Toni's emotions boiled over; this was the last thing he needed right now. With his good arm, he wrapped it around Jesse's waist, trying desperately to pull her away, as her legs flailed in chaotic panic. "YOU WERE THE FUCKING PRINCESS!" Jesse roared, seething at the entire situation. "YOU—WHAT THE FUCK, EKO?! DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT YOU'VE DONE?"

Before any more screams could tear through the air, Toni's powers erupted in a violent surge, engulfing them both and dragging them into an impenetrable darkness as they vanished from sight.

Left behind, Eko cradled her reddened cheek, her breath coming in shallow, ragged gasps—a crushing tide of dread crashing over her. Struggling to piece together her shattered thoughts, she barely registered the soft, tentative touch as Eric stepped forward. His hand gently cupped her chin, forcing her to meet his haunted, concerned gaze.

"Sera, are you okay?" Eric's voice was gentle, laced with deep concern.

Her bottom lip trembled, and through a torrent of tears she managed a sharp, broken "No." Her magic flickered erratically around her, a desperate, unstable glow that mirrored the chaos within. With a choked urgency, she gasped, "Can you sense where he went?" Her plea was raw—a desperate cry born from a bond that had once tethered her to him. She hated the emptiness where she once felt him.

Eric shook his head slowly, the sound of her name—"Sera"—hanging heavily between them, laden with the unspoken knowledge of what lay ahead.

"Please?!" Eko begged, her voice cracking under raw anguish. "My powers are shot—I can't even follow him. I can't do anything on my own. Please, Eric, take me to him. I need to find him, to explain this before he completely loses himself."

"Sera, please," Eric murmured, exhaling slowly, his face etched with sorrow and concern. "You know we're past that point now. Chasing him down will only drag you into his line of fire. I can't let you do that—you are not what he needs right now."

Swallowing hard, Eko staggered back as confusion and desperation collided within her, the weight of their fractured bonds pressing down like an inescapable fate. "I—I just need to explain it to him," she stammered, her voice trembling with raw urgency. "He'll understand once I tell him— To explain this. He needs to understand!"

"No," Eric snapped, shaking his head firmly. "Right now, your Highness, you must return to Isadora for proper medical care." His gaze swept over her injuries—blood clinging like battle-worn armor, pain etched in every line of her face. "You're hurt, Sera—worse than you think."

"I can heal, it's fine," she protested weakly, sure she was tired, but she didn't care, there were far more important things. "My body will heal."

Eric stepped closer, his eyes dark with concern as he took in the fresh wounds—blood streaming down her legs, cuts and bruises marring her battered arms and face. His gaze pleaded as he murmured, "Sera, the board and the royal court are looking for you. The attack was broadcast—your identity as the crowned princess is out. It's already all over the world, or it will be soon."

"No, no, no... I won't do it," Eko cried, her voice rising in fierce defiance even as it trembled with raw pain. "I don't want the crown—I don't want to leave the life I've built here. I refuse to be dragged away from everything that matters to me!" Her lip quivered as if her very soul were being devoured.

"Sera, you've been running for far too long," Eric said, his tone a blend of sorrow and unyielding resolve. "This is the moment we must accept what has been set in motion."

"No, no, no! God, why should I?" Eko screamed, clutching her chest as sobs tore through her. "My place isn't on some fucking throne that killed my entire family—it's here, with the home I built. This is my home!"

Eric's eyes softened with regret, but his words remained firm. "This was only ever temporary. You know as well as I do that you can't outrun destiny forever. Sooner or later, it will catch up to you. You can only escape it for so long. Do you understand?"

"Fate and destiny aren't real!" Eko spat, her voice trembling with fury. "I get to decide my life—my choices, not some stupid birthright or an obsession with my bloodline!"

Eric's gaze was unwavering, his tone both firm and laced with sorrow. "Regardless of your Royal training—or lack thereof—you come from a line that has ruled these kingdoms for generations. You owe it to your father, your mother, even your brother, to at least try."

"Jesus!" Eko cried out, her voice raw with defiance and pain. "You don't get to throw that at me! You don't get to use them against me! They're dead—buried in the ground. They're fucking DEAD!"

"Sera," Eric said, his voice heavy as the weight of the world pressed upon him, "all I'm saying is there's no undoing what's been set in motion. You were born into privilege—and with that comes specific obligations."

"Screw the privilege! Screw being born into all that bullshit!" Eko shouted, desperation and fury warring in her eyes as she searched his face. "Why doesn't anyone understand? I'm being torn away from everything I love. I built my life here, and I won't let it be taken from me! I won't lose it!"

Eric exhaled slowly, his eyes brimming with resigned sorrow. "Sera, you know what Matthew and the others are like. None of us will ever find forgiveness for this—Matthew will bear this betrayal to his grave. You know him, Sera; you know what they're capable of. This can't just be brushed aside. This is too big."

Her eyes flickered between his, as if his words were shattering her entire reality and exposing the bitter truth that everything she had believed in was a lie. "You... you don't know that," she whispered, her voice raw with seething anguish. "You... he loves me, and we'll be okay... we... will. He's just angry."

Eric's tone grew somber, the inevitability of their situation hanging heavy in the air. "Sera, look around—these are the consequences. You need to understand that you will have to return to the throne."

Eko's eyes flashed with defiance as she met his. "Return? No—return to a prison of duty and obligation? I refuse to be shackled by a destiny I never chose. I may be the crowned princess by birth, but I won't be defined by a crown I never wanted. I won't let them strip away the life and home I've built!" Her voice trembled with both rage and sorrow. "I choose my own path—I get to choose it! That's MY CHOICE!"

"Sera, life isn't like that—you were taught better by your mother," Eric murmured, his final plea steeped in quiet desperation.

Eko's eyes flared with unshed tears and seething anger. "My mother hated her life!" she cried, her voice cracking. "She tried to end it more times than I can count—just to be with Papa and my brother. She never wanted to stay here. I remember how she stood there as the palace collapsed, and simply let herself die. She left me alone, Eric! She left me to fend for myself! S-she left me!"

In that devastating moment, Eko's fierce defiance shattered into raw, unfiltered sorrow. Overwhelmed by the crushing weight of a destiny she never chose, she sank to her knees, her head collapsing onto the scorching sand. "I was happy here," she managed to choke out, her voice barely a whisper as her fingers dug desperately into the gritty earth. "Oh God... Matthew..." Her words dissolved into heart-wrenching sobs, tears mingling with dust and pain.

And in that final, shattering clarity, she realized she could no longer escape her destiny—her fate was not a battle to be fought, but an inescapable truth that had already claimed her soul.

**** ****

Matthew stumbled into Mecotec, barely keeping his balance as he bellowed, "Keaton!" His voice—raw with anger and desperation—betrayed a crisis far deeper than mere fatigue. His hands trembled uncontrollably, as if set aflame, while his chest pounded so fiercely each beat threatened to burst through his skin. Short, ragged gasps tore from him as his vision blurred in the desperate struggle to remain upright.

Staggering, he reached out for the wall just as Dr. Keaton burst from a nearby hallway, flanked by a team of nurses. Though the hallway he stood in spun around him, he managed to halt—for just a moment.

"Keep them occupied now!" Dr. Keaton barked, his voice rough with urgency. The nurses, recognizing the gravity of the situation, nodded briskly and hurried back into the corridor.

Then, stepping forward with a tremor of alarm, Dr. Keaton spoke, "Matthew, you can't be here. The board is here—they're taking control, and they're hunting for you. They've even seized all my medical records on you, Jesse, Toni, and Richie!" His voice wavered with frantic urgency as he tried to guide Matthew away, but every uneven breath and trembling hand testified that Matthew was beyond his control.

"What is it?" Dr. Keaton pressed, his eyes brimming with deep concern as he watched Matthew struggle for a steady, unbalanced breath. Before he could intervene further, the board members stormed in from the hallways, their commanding voices imposing an oppressive authority that filled the room.

Matthew forced himself off the wall, each step a battle against the searing pain pounding in his chest. He refused to yield, determined not to show even a hint of weakness as the board's icy gazes drilled into him. Rylan advanced, his tone unyielding and razor-cold, and the tension in the room became almost unbearable.

"There are consequences for this, Skarsgard. Surrender that crystal immediately and face trial for the war crimes you've committed against the crown."

Matthew swallowed hard, the searing pain in his chest mingling with a rising tide of dread as the full weight of their judgment crashed down upon him. Dr. Keaton's unwavering gaze was fixed on the tremor in Matthew's hand, noting the pallor that had drained the color from his face.

He stared blankly, drawing in deep, uneven breaths as he fought to steady himself. His heart pounded wildly—as if trying to break free from the crushing pressure—teetering on the brink of collapse. The insidious pull of the crystal siphoned every last scrap of resolve from him.

"Did you hear what we said?" boomed a voice, each word dripping with venom and contempt, reverberating through the suffocating silence. "If you don't hand over that crystal, you and your team will be hunted to the ends of the earth for the atrocities you've committed—your sinful acts against the great nation of Isadora, her majesty, and the crown!"

Another board member, his tone even more forceful and laced with bitter scorn than Rylan's, spat, "You are nothing but a traitor, and there will be justice for our queen and our homes!"

Matthew's fist clenched involuntarily, his knuckles whitening as the harsh, accusatory chorus swelled around him. Each scathing word struck him like a dagger, leaving him raw and exposed beneath their merciless verdict.

"You have been left unchecked for far too long," Rylan declared, his voice as cold and unyielding as the judgment in his eyes, as a cadre of powerful enforcers advanced around Matthew.

Dr. Keaton's gaze darted nervously between the new figures—each one there to restrain Matthew—as his own worry deepened. Matthew's power crackled around him like a dark storm, and his skin turned ashen as the reckoning drew near.

One board member spat out, his voice a seething explosion of rage and disbelief, "You've held our future queen hostage for an entire year! The evidence is undeniable—you forced her into unspeakable horrors, into acts no human should ever endure. You haven't merely decimated the royal court or nearly wiped out our elders and mages—you've torn this city apart, reduced it to rubble and despair."

The board member took a deep breath as his voice got louder, "Under the guise of Ace, you've committed war crimes: massacres in orphanages, the slaughter of innocent caretakers when you were barely a child. And if that weren't enough, you coerced our future queen into a marriage, using her as a pawn to tighten your sick, twisted grip on power. You are nothing but a monster—a power-hungry fiend, a plague upon this great nation! Now, you will hand over that crystal immediately, and then you will face trial under the full weight of our justice system for your crimes!"

Matthew glared at Rylan only, his eyes ablaze with a fury that obliterated every lie they'd peddled. In that seething moment, he confronted the bitter truth of his worst fears: they were all terrified of him—not just for the crystals or the raw power he wielded, but because they craved that power for themselves.

His heart pounded with a relentless, chaotic rhythm, each beat a defiant protest against the horrors of the past few hours, teetering on the edge of collapse. And yet, even as he stood there, his thoughts narrowed to one searing fixation—Eko. No... no... his mind snapped, forcing the bitter truth from him: her name was Sera, and it burned on his tongue like venom.

A corrosive hatred seeped into his bones, fed by the rage and devastation that had shattered every illusion—the truth that she was the future Queen of two worlds, and that everything that had followed stemmed from that very truth. Every carefully spun false promise, every whispered moment of feigned tenderness, every shared vulnerability had been nothing more than a survival tactic. It wasn't love—it was cold, calculated manipulation. She hadn't loved him; she had used him.

The bond he once swore was unbreakable had always been nothing more than a gilded cage—a prison he had been too blind to see. Their love wasn't undone by loss because, in truth, love had never truly existed between them. It was an illusion, real only in his desperate hope, and that bitter truth festered within him, a darkness clawing at his insides like a relentless beast with fiery, unyielding claws.

With every thunderous beat, he felt the crushing truth: he was nothing more than a disposable pawn—a means to an end. It was as if he had lost everything; the relentless chaos around him had sealed his fate, draining him of all strength to resist. His tether unraveled like brittle thread.

With one slow, shuddering breath, his eyes fluttered closed and his knees buckled beneath him. The cold, unforgiving ground rose to meet him as he collapsed forward, his body crumpling under the weight of despair. The board members recoiled in stunned silence, their wide eyes frozen in shock, rendered utterly speechless by his downfall.

Dr. Keaton rushed to Matthew's side, seizing his shoulders and carefully rolling him onto his back. As he pressed his ear to Matthew's chest, his face drained of color—there was no heartbeat. "CODE BLUE!" he screamed, his voice trembling with panic as he struggled to comprehend the sudden collapse of Matthew's heart.

Within seconds, the medical team surged forward, but they were abruptly halted by the board. "Move—this is an emergency!" Dr. Keaton insisted, his tone frantic as he continued his compressions.

"Do not save him," Rylan ordered coldly, his voice final and merciless, intent on sealing Matthew's fate.

Dr. Keaton's mouth fell open in shock, but Rylan pressed on, his tone as cold as ice. "He is a war criminal."

Dr. Keaton snapped, his voice rising with raw, palpable terror. "And under our system, even war criminals must stand trial! Regardless of any circumstance, he's wed to our future queen—granting him sovereign authority and making him our King. You fall under the crown's jurisdiction, which means you cannot let him die!"

A voice from the back of the boardroom cut in urgently, "Sir? If that's true?"

Rylan's eyes blazed with unrestrained fury as he swept his gaze over the assembled board. "He is no King!" he bellowed. "Find the fucking paperwork—this sham, this falsified marriage is an atrocity before God! Invoke the duress act immediately! We will end this disgrace once and for all!"

A grim silence fell as the board members exchanged shocked glances before hastily retreating. Rylan then turned sharply toward Dr. Keaton, forcing the doctor to meet his steely, unyielding gaze as nurses and doctors rushed in. "Do the surgery," Rylan commanded coldly, "and keep him sedated until we put him on trial for his crimes."

Dr. Keaton nodded in grim agreement, his focus solely on saving Matthew's life. He knew that getting him into surgery was their only chance—everything else could wait. In that desperate moment, his only option was to stabilize Matthew and buy enough time until he could send word to one of the warriors—or even to Eko herself—to save him before things took a dangerous turn.