"You... are weak," it said.
The words weren’t just an insult, they were a declaration.
The Emperor didn’t take it lightly. In an instant, he disappeared, reappearing right in front of the tall Phantom, his axe swinging in a deadly arc aimed straight for its neck.
But the Phantom didn’t even flinch. Before the blow could land, the dwarf Phantom appeared out of nowhere, slamming its massive hammer against the Emperor’s axe. The clash sent sparks flying as the two weapons locked, groaning under the force.
Deathmist leaked from the dwarf’s armor, flaring violently and lashed at the Emperor. The Emperor was thrown backward, hitting the rubble-strewn ground with a heavy thud.
"I agree with you... he is weak," the dwarf said, its voice low and hollow, carrying a grim satisfaction that made my skin crawl.
The moment the dwarf Phantom finished its sentence, both General Cassian and Arkas appeared at its sides.
Arkas was a storm given flesh. His trident burned with lightning, arcs of power racing across the metal and crawling over his body. Essence churned heavily around him, every spark a reminder of his mastery.
Cassian was no less overwhelming. His awakened weapon glowed with fierce light, his body shining like a beacon against the darkness. The air itself trembled as the two grandmasters released their full might.
A crushing wave of Essence burst out from them, forcing the Deathmist back for the first time. Their weapons shot forward in unison, aimed to crush the dwarf Phantom before it could react.
The Phantom reacted instantly. Its hammer swelled, doubling in size as though the weapon itself breathed. It swung once, a massive arc that collided with spear and trident at the same time.
BOOM.
The impact tore the battlefield apart. A shockwave mixed with Deathmist and Essence blasted outward, shaking the ground and scattering dust like a storm.
When my vision cleared I saw Arkas and Cassian had both been driven back, their boots carving trenches into the dirt. The dwarf Phantom stood firm in the center of the crater, unmoved, its armor humming with corruption.
That was when I truly understood how bad this was.
Its armor wasn’t metal. It was a prison of souls, forged to absorb Essence and twist it. Even its weapon fed on what it consumed.
Every strike we launched was already weaker the instant it touched them. And worse, the Deathmist wasn’t just smoke, it was alive. It lashed out on its own, clawing and biting like a hungry beast, while Essence had to be bent and shaped with willpower. Their power was constant, automatic. Ours was forced.
We were fighting from a losing position before the battle had even begun.
The dwarf Phantom shifted, raising its hammer to attack again, but before it could move forward, Dante appeared behind it. His sword gleamed with black distortions, his old wrinkled face calm as still water.
"Cleave," he said.
Essence stilled. Then it surged like a tidal wave breaking loose. His slash roared outward, heavy with spatial distortions and raw force. It struck the dwarf Phantom full on, smashing it into the ground and carving a crater wide enough to swallow a house.
I held my breath. Maybe this time...
But no. The dwarf Phantom remained standing. Its armor bore the blow without a single crack. It had endured an attack that should have ripped any grandmaster apart.
Cold dread sank into me.
Then the leader Phantom spoke.
"You are strange." Its glowing lines fixed on Dante.
"Nothing about you makes sense," it continued, tilting its head. "Hmm. Are you... a clone?"
The word surprised me. My eyes widened. A clone?
"No," the Phantom said again. "That does not seem right either. Then what are you?"
Dante turned his head, meeting the glowing lines without a trace of fear. He smiled faintly, as if death itself amused him.
"I’ll tell you," he said, "when I’m at death’s door."
The Phantom’s lines pulsed with crimson light, its Deathmist twisting like snakes around its body.
"I can fulfill that wish," it said, raising its sword with a slowness that felt more terrifying than any speed.
It raised its sword high, and I felt the whole battlefield shiver.
The deathmist that had been drifting like smoke suddenly churned and rushed toward the blade, as if the weapon itself were its master.
In an instant the mist poured into the steel, and when the sword came down, a slash of pure black tore free.
Dante did not hesitate. He stepped forward, his own sword glowing faintly as Essence gathered around him, and I heard his voice cut through the chaos.
"[Devouring Void]."
His blade carved the air, unleashing a silver-green arc that shimmered with both space and Essence. The moment it left his sword, the slash twisted and folded inward, turning into a circular hole in space itself.
It pulled at everything near it—dust, rubble, even the lingering traces of Essence—and then latched onto the Phantom’s black slash like a predator clamping down on prey.
The two forces collided, and the world trembled.
The ground split open, and the air howled as the void tried to devour the Phantom’s attack.
The black slash buckled, pulled inward, swallowed bit by bit. But then, with a sound like cracking stone, the void rippled and tore apart.
The black slash burst through, unstoppable.
It ripped Dante’s attack in half and surged forward, smashing into him with terrifying force. His body was flung like a broken doll, crashing into the ground hard enough to make the earth shake. Dust and debris exploded upward, and when it cleared, I saw Dante standing shakily with a slash across his chest where blood leaked profusely.
My stomach turned to ice. It hadn’t even moved from its spot.
The Emperor flashed and appeared beside Dante, his face tight. "You are not at full strength. Do not fight it. Just find the boy before we hit our graves."
Dante nodded once, then vanished.
"All right then. Make this our greatest stand. The only order I have is this: bury them here with us."
At his word, the Grandmasters roared and surged forward. The strongest among them went straight for the leader Phantom, blades and bodies blazing; others split into two groups and rushed the dwarf and the giant. Essence flared, and the ground shook under the weight of their charge.
North stood close to me, her hand gripping her blades. "They’re going to die," she muttered, her voice breaking. Her eyes were wet.
I could feel every step forward like a countdown. We had numbers, skill, and will—but the way it had taken Dante with a single strike left a hollow in my chest.