Finally, about five minutes later, Dante and Steve came back up the hill.
Dante stepped forward and spoke directly to my brother.
"The bird said Billion asked him to keep an eye on Saturn and make sure he does not escape. I did a quick sweep. Their grandmasters are gathering here. Saturn is still inside and not hurt. We can expect fifteen to twenty-five more grandmasters. The kid handled the rest."
His last words landed like a stone.
"Rest of them?" my brother asked.
"Yeah. The bird says around thirty or so."
Something sharp moved through me — a mix of fear and a strange, hot hope. The number pleased me. It meant chaos. It meant loss. It meant the chance I had been waiting for.
"Then we attack." My brother’s reply was immediate, cold, and sure.
He gave quick orders.
"Dante, you handle defensive wards. Don’t fight unless you must. Focus on finding and breaking traps Saturn might have laid. Everyone else, strike hard from the start. Edgar, watch the youngsters."
No sooner had he finished that, he flashed. In a blink he was above the capital of Peanu, riding the air like he owned the sky. The other Grandmasters moved too, thirty of them, all flowing out at once.
They left like a storm.
I stayed on the hill. My grip on the hilt tightened until my fingers whitened. I watched my brother go. For years I had wanted this, a war that would take everything. Now the moment was here. My chest pounded. My hands trembled.
Lucien Rayleigh, my brother, raised his hand and a giant axe appeared in his grip. His awakened weapon. He had always been a brute in battle, a man who spoke less with words and more with the weight of his strikes.
In the next heartbeat, his entire aura exploded outward.
The force pressed down on the capital below like a crushing storm. The city that had been bustling with people, soldiers, and nervous whispers suddenly froze. Movement stopped. Even the sound of life seemed to vanish as every eye turned upward toward him.
"LUCIEN!" The roar shook the sky as Saturn burst out, his figure flashing into the air above the capital. He appeared like an angry god, but my brother did not even turn his head to acknowledge him.
Lucien slowly lifted his weapon. The axe was nearly four feet long, heavy enough that ordinary men would crumble beneath its weight, but in his hands it looked like a natural extension of his body.
Essence surged in violent waves. Red lightning coiled across his arms and chest, crawling over his skin like living veins of fire. The sky darkened in response, clouds swirling and gathering above, thick and heavy.
He whispered, and though the sound was soft, every single person in the capital heard it as if he stood beside them.
"Lightning Art: Red Sundering."
The axe fell.
BOOM!
A slash of red lightning tore from the heavens, screaming down through the storm. It split the clouds apart and descended with a speed that shattered the air itself. The beam was massive, wide enough to cover the entire palace grounds.
Saturn roared again and lunged forward, but he was too slow. My brother’s strike had already crossed the distance, its speed leaving no room to block or counter. Saturn’s only choice was to dodge, fleeing in desperation.
The lightning fell.
For one heartbeat, the world fell silent. Then the shockwave hit.
The palace disappeared in light. The earth shuddered as the force ripped through stone and steel alike. Streets cracked apart, buildings collapsed, walls crumbled into dust. Vehicles twisted and shattered like toys, and people were torn from their feet by the violent winds of destruction.
Above, the clouds continued to roar, and streaks of red lightning crashed down at random across the capital of Peanu. The entire city was swallowed in shadow, cloaked under the storm my brother had summoned.
When the dust fell, the palace was gone. A massive crater gaped where it had stood. Around it, Grandmasters floated, some wounded, most furious.
I understood why Lucien had struck the palace first. He wanted to wipe out any traps Saturn might hide. With the heart gone, defenses would fail.
Our Grandmasters moved as one and dove into the sky to meet Peanu’s. They cut through the smoke like knives. I stepped forward, drew my sword, and braced.
My eyes locked on Roger Max, the same man who had participated in the last war. I remembered him then: his scar, his quiet smile, how he had fought like he was enjoying being a predator. He was here now, alive.
I pushed off the ground and flew. Speed took over, a rush of space itself folding beneath me. Essence churned around me. My body sliced through the air. I reached him before he realized I was coming.
I aimed for his head. The world narrowed to the point where my blade met the skull. I called the law of the sword and space together.
[Sword Art : Breathless Cut]
I pushed everything to the edge, my comprehension, strength, focus and the world narrowed to the sword in my hand. Movement fell silent. Along the blade a black will unfurled, a vertical line of shadow that ran the length of the steel like ink sliding across paper.
The sword moved with no sound, a single clean arc. The black line met his neck and passed through him as if cutting not flesh but a thread binding him to the world.
For a breath he hung there, then his form gave way. He did not spatter or scream; he simply burst apart, fragmenting into a spray of dark blood droplets that hung in the air for a heartbeat before drifting down. Some of those motes landed on my skin. I felt the chill of them and, oddly, a calm settled through me.
My sword grew still in my hand, yet I could sense its excitement echoing through me.
I had always followed the path of death when shaping my skills, death was the end, the only truth, the motto I carried.
Striking down the man who had taken part in the death of my kin gave me a fleeting peace, but that peace carried sharp edges. The calm lasted only a moment before anger rose again, hotter than before.
I raised the blade and pointed it at the figures rushing below. My voice was low when I activated the next skill.
[Sword Art: Rushing Rain]