The blast rippled through the ocean like a second sun exploding beneath the waves.

  As the blinding light that had devoured the abyss began to fade, a charred body slowly emerged at the center of the shattered cathedral.

  It floated above the cracked seabed.

  A hand gripped its throat—only becoming visible as the sand and foam settled back to the ocean floor.

  Orion’s figure slowly emerged, his eyes locked on the broken form before him.

  Malamiris coughed blood that seeped into the seawater.

  At the same time, a blade of void energy shimmered in the water, resting across Orion’s free hand.

  Marie, poised to decapitate Malamiris at a moment’s notice, lowered her face but kept her sharp eyes on the enemy.

  “What... Cough... happened?”

  As blood escaped her lips once more, Malamiris' wounds began to regenerate, starting from her eyes.

  Only her right eye could still see the face of the man who had brought her to this state.

  “My... arms...”

  She tried to move them—but there was nothing. No sensation, no weight.

  “Now, it's time to return what you stole.”

  Orion’s voice was calm, yet laced with venom.

  He studied her burned form carefully, searching for a weakness he could exploit.

  Then he glanced at Marie. She shook her head slightly.

  Nothing in the back, huh? His eyes narrowed. There must be a way to retrieve the Valkyrie’s soul.

  He wasn’t under pressure—yet. But time wasn’t on his side. Malamiris was regenerating quickly, her face already nearly restored to its former state.

  Orion closed his eyes, remembering what had happened seconds earlier.

  After unleashing Daybreaker, Orion and Marie had been pushed back by the blast.

  On the other side, Malamiris shielded herself with a wall of wraiths, replenishing each one that was destroyed to protect the being who had twisted them into servitude.

  Even through the blinding light—his light—Orion could see it wouldn’t be enough to secure victory.

  The endless tide of death was obstructing Daybreaker's full power. His plan to weaken her was slipping through his fingers.

  Not yet. This isn’t the end.

  His eyes shone pure white as he looked over his shoulder.

  “Marie.”

  The maid, clutching his waist with all her strength, lifted her head to meet his eyes.

  “Yes, Master?”

  She was ready for anything.

  “Can you deal with the wraiths? If not, we won’t be able to finish this Devourer.”

  He smiled faintly through the light.

  “My hands are tied right now.”

  That much was clear. If he released Alcyone’s power, everything they had accomplished would be undone.

  Unless someone else intervened, this strike would fail.

  What do I do? If I let go, I’ll be thrown back by the force...

  Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  Even if she trusted him with her life, she didn’t know if she could follow through.

  Still... I have to try!

  Slowly, Marie let go of him. The blast’s pressure was overwhelming—her grip was already failing.

  Damn it! I’m slipping!

  Her vision tilted.

  Ah!

  She saw his silhouette, shrinking in the brilliance.

  But then she glanced at the void blades in her hands.

  I can’t falter now!

  Her spirit reignited. Through the chaos, she searched for a path.

  Suddenly, her eyes glowed with a strange white light.

  What is this?!

  A power not her own surged into her core. It resembled the energy of her void blades—familiar, intense.

  As she adjusted to the brilliance of Alcyone’s light, her vision began to pierce the radiance.

  She saw Orion—standing firm, radiant wings spread wide—and she saw Malamiris, desperately trying to hold back Daybreaker with her summoned dead.

  I can see. I know where to strike!

  She smiled, emboldened. Her blades vibrated in her grip as resolve filled her.

  Then she vanished—her silhouette breaking into stars, swallowed by the light.

  I am my Master's blade. Wherever, whenever, I will strike at his enemy without fail!

  The starlight raced downward, cutting a line through the wall of wraiths.

  No clash. No scream.

  Only a vacuumed shrrk, as though the world folded inward around the voidsteel edge.

  And then, the wraiths were gone.

  Malamiris endured the Daybreak for a moment longer, her arms hissing and sizzling in the searing radiance.

  From her shadow behind, her true form twisted in pain.

  And within that shadow, two silent eyes opened.

  Like a ghost, Marie approached.

  She appeared behind Malamiris in an instant—silent, merciless.

  Her twin blades, honed by wrath and resolve, carved through the Devourer’s corrupted flesh. Both arms were severed just above the elbows, the strikes so precise that for a moment, they hung in place.

  That's for making a fool of me. No one desecrates the memories I hold dear.

  Then they dropped.

  The limbs struck the floor with a sickening thud, twitching once, as if in denial. Fingers curled inward like dying spiders, spasming against the shattered tiles.

  But the agony had only begun.

  From the open stumps, light burst—not Marie’s, but Orion’s.

  Golden-white fire surged from within the wounds—not spreading, but devouring. Precise. Relentless.

  The severed arms were consumed from the inside out. Flesh bubbled, peeling away in molten sheets. Tendons unwound. Bone blackened and split. Within seconds, all that remained was drifting ash and the acrid scent of something ancient and cursed burning away.

  Malamiris reeled, her head thrown back, but no scream came—just a wet, ragged gasp as the radiant fire dug deeper.

  Daybreaker pulsed again—then flared outward like a divine eruption.

  The light spread from the severed stumps, crawling through her body. Flesh around the wounds blistered, skin splitting in jagged rivulets as the corruption fought in vain.

  Her veins ignited, glowing gold—then white—then collapsing into black.

  Bit by bit, her form withered. Her blood boiled into vapor, escaping through her pores in twisting smoke.

  Her lungs shriveled inward. Each breath became a battle. Her back arched, a guttural sound tearing from her throat—half-formed, half-swallowed by the blaze within.

  Her neck burned next—skin peeling, bone blackening. One eye burst. The other liquefied, dribbling down her face and hissing into steam under the merciless flame.

  And still, she stood.

  Half-whole, half-disintegrated—like a monument to filth crumbling beneath the gaze of a holy sun.

  Daybreaker didn’t just destroy. It erased everything false within her.

  The final flare of Daybreaker faded—but the light remained, condensed into something tighter, heavier. Like a collapsing star, its glow warped space around it—bending air, water, and will.

  Then, soundless, Orion appeared before her.

  In one instant, Malamiris’ scorched form quivered in agony. In the next, his hand shot forward, fingers clamping her neck like iron. Her spine cracked beneath his grip, and she was lifted—weightless as ash.

  But before hoisting her, his eyes dropped—for just a second.

  A mark.

  A pale scar just above the navel. Surgical. Clean. Not from battle. Not from this transformation.

  It predated everything.

  At that moment, as Orion recognized the scar, he lifted Malamiris higher, leveling her stomach to his eye line.

  “...”

  His eyes flared white, as if trying to see into her very soul.

  “I’ve found it.”

  A dark smile twisted his usually serene features into something colder.

  “D-Don’t!”

  Malamiris seemed to realize what came next. She jerked her shoulders, panicking, but it was too late.

  Orion’s free hand turned into a blade.

  With swift, exact force, he thrust it into her stomach—right where the scar marred what had once been Valkyrie Carmillya’s skin.

  “A-AGH! STOP!”

  A guttural screech tore from her as her entire body convulsed.

  Yet no blood spilled.

  Orion had pierced something deeper than flesh. He had breached her soul.

  And at that place—where the scar met skin—the barrier between Malamiris and Carmillya was weakest.

  Suddenly, as she writhed, two voidsteel blades pierced her from behind, driving through shoulder blades and bone.

  “Don’t you dare interrupt my Master’s work.”

  Marie whispered the words coldly, pressing her blades deeper as she restrained the pitiful creature.

  The torment ruptured what little remained of Malamiris’ stolen human form. Blood burst from her mouth, twisting her features into an inhuman, grotesque mask.

  “"This is mine! I—I need it!"

  She shrieked with blind rage, but neither of them listened.

  The dignity in her voice was gone—replaced by the broken, howling fury of a beast guarding what it had stolen.

  And then, at last, Orion withdrew his hand from her stomach.

  In his hand, a swirling orb of blinding purity pulsed once—then vanished into his body as his fingers closed around it, claimed and sealed by his will.

  One pure soul was reclaimed from the Devourers.