“Run, Ron! Run! Save your life!" Drake's desperate shout barely reached him over the deafening roar of battle.

  Ron stumbled, the blood-soaked ground shifting beneath his trembling hands as he tried to push himself up. He gasped for air, his lungs burning, his vision blurred by sweat and fear. A monstrous shadow loomed overhead. Primordial Leto. The titan struck down with merciless precision, its claws rending through flesh and bone. Drake's body twisted unnaturally before being torn in half, his final scream drowned by the chaos. Blood rained onto the shattered battlefield.

  Ron choked on his breath, crawling backward, his fingers digging into the dirt as he forced himself up. His legs screamed in protest, but he ran. He ran through the carnage, through the dying echoes of his comrades' voices. His gaze darted wildly, searching, praying for a miracle. But all he saw was death.

  Hans. His body charred, unrecognizable, a blackened husk beneath Hyperion’s merciless solar flames. Wien and Paul, their limp forms swallowed by the swirling abyss of Oceanus’ wrath, dragged under the relentless tide. Martin and Rena, their unconscious bodies flung through the storm, tossed and twisted like broken dolls in the relentless grip of Typhon’s howling winds.

  And Lorenzo, Coeus’ massive talon clenched around his fallen form, the once-mighty warrior now limp, his shattered blade hanging uselessly from his grasp. The cosmic titan paid him no mind, his gaze fixed only on destruction.

  A shrill whistle cut the air. Ron turned just in time to see Titaness Theia descending from the heavens, her colossal form wreathed in an ethereal glow. The metallic liquid she unleashed rained down like molten silver—splattering against his arm. The pain was instant. A searing agony that clawed through his flesh, eating away at his skin. He screamed—

  A sharp slap jolted him back to reality. “Ron! Wake up!” His eyes flew open, his breath ragged, his vision hazy with tears. A warm hand rested on his shoulder, grounding him, pulling him back from the abyss of his nightmare. A gentle yet commanding voice broke through the fog of his panic.

  "You were having a nightmare.” Flover Rozenberg sat beside him on the small bed, her expression filled with concern. Her arms wrapped around him without hesitation, holding him steady as tremors wracked his body. "You’re safe," she murmured. "It’s all right now.”

  Ron struggled to steady his breath, his body drenched in sweat, his mind still caught between the nightmare and the present. He clenched his fists, the phantom pain of his dream still lingering in his limbs.

  Flo stood, walking to the window. With a quiet motion, she pushed it open, letting the cool night air drift in. The scent of roses mingled with the moonlight breeze, calming the restless storm within him.

  The soft glow of Vibrara’s lantern-lit streets stretched beyond, peaceful, untouched by the horrors that haunted his dreams. But reality was waiting. Still wrapped in bandages, Ron had traveled all the way from the capital to find her. The message was clear.

  The capital was calling. The Order was recalling its captains and members. The Primordials had been released. Elysion was on the brink. And they had little time before the world fell into ruin.

  ——

  At the border between the Celestial Heights and the Infernal Wasteland lay the vibrant and bustling town of Vibrara. Perched high on the cliffs of a mountain, Vibrara offered breathtaking views of the sunsets that bathed the entire landscape in hues of gold and crimson. It was a sight known across Elysion, one that travelers from all corners of the realm would come to witness. But the town was famous for more than its sunsets. It was also renowned for the beauty of its maidens, the finest in all of Elysion, whose grace and charm were the pride of the city.

  In the warm glow of the setting sun, Flo Rozenberg, the valiant captain of the Vanguard Strikers, walked side by side with Ron. His face still bore the marks of battle, the memory of his recent loss at Titan’s Keep fresh in his minds. The battle nearly cost him his life, but Ron had survived—though not without scars, both seen and unseen.

  The two strolled through the cobbled streets of Vibrara, the sun casting long shadows as it dipped below the horizon. The bustling marketplace, full of life and chatter during the day, was beginning to quiet down. Lanterns flickered to life, casting a warm glow over the stone paths. The scent of fresh bread and blooming roses lingered in the air, blending with the crisp mountain breeze. It was a rare moment of serenity, one that felt almost out of place after all they had endured.

  Ron let out a quiet breath, his fingers intertwining with Flo’s as they walked. “You know,” he began, his voice softer than usual, “there were moments in that battle where I didn’t think I’d make it back to you. Especially when the Primordial Titans began emerging… I thought that might be the end.”

  Flo squeezed his hand gently, her presence grounding him. “But you did make it back,” she said, her voice steady. “You always do.”

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  They walked in silence for a few moments, as they approached the cliffside overlooking Vibrara, the sky ignited in vibrant shades of orange and violet. The city lights below twinkled like stars caught between the heavens and the earth. It was a sight of unparalleled beauty, yet Ron’s thoughts remained fixed on something far more precious.

  As they reached the edge of the overlook, Ron slowed his steps and turned to face her fully. The cool mountain wind tousled Flo’s hair, the fading sunlight casting golden highlights along her auburn locks. For a moment, he simply looked at her—taking in the strength in her eyes, the warmth in her expression, the quiet fire in her heart that had always drawn him to her.

  “I’ve been thinking a lot about what happens after all this is over,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

  Flo tilted her head slightly, studying him. “What do you mean?”

  Ron took a steadying breath. “I mean when the battles are done… when the titans, the Primordials, the war—when it’s all behind us.” He hesitated for only a heartbeat before continuing, his fingers brushing against something in his pocket. “I want to build a life with you, Flo. A real life. Not just stolen moments between wars, not just the chance to fight alongside you—but something more.”

  His hand slipped into his pocket, and when he withdrew it, a simple yet elegant ring glimmered between his fingers. The faint glow of the lanterns and the dying sun caught the polished metal, making it shimmer like captured stardust.

  Flo’s breath hitched. For a moment, the weight of the world, the battles, the constant fight for survival—all of it faded into the background.

  Ron swallowed, his heart hammering in his chest. “Will you spend the rest of your life with me?” he asked, his voice carrying both the weight of uncertainty and the depth of his love.

  Flo stared at him, her lips parting slightly in surprise. Then, a slow, radiant smile spread across her face. The strong warrior, the fearless captain—at that moment, she was simply a woman standing before the man she loved.

  “When all of this ends, when the battles are behind us,” she said softly, reaching for his hand. “I promise—I will.”

  She took the ring from his palm and slipped it onto her finger, the metal cool against her skin. It felt unfamiliar yet perfectly right, as if it had always belonged there.

  They stood together at the cliff’s edge, the world around them hushed in the quiet aftermath of his proposal. The breeze carried the distant hum of the town below, but all Ron could hear was the steady rhythm of their breaths, the unspoken vow hanging in the space between them.

  Hand in hand, they turned and made their way back toward Flo’s home, where her sisters awaited them. As they walked, the distant sounds of the town melted away, leaving only the steady beat of their footsteps and the quiet certainty of the future they had just begun to shape.

  ——

  Far away, in a place beyond the reach of light and warmth, the suffocating darkness of the Shadow Realm pulsed with malevolent energy. Deep within the lair of the titans, in a chamber thick with the stench of decay and old, forgotten power, Rem stood before a mirror—a grotesque and ancient artifact whose surface shimmered unnaturally. Her reflection in the mirror was twisted, her once-beautiful face contorted into a grotesque grin, eyes gleaming with the promise of untold chaos. She whispered incantations in a language older than the Elysian civilization itself, each syllable warping the air around her, thickening the atmosphere with dark magic.

  The mirror's surface began to ripple, as if the very fabric of reality was bending to her will. Slowly, the reflection gave way to something far more sinister—a monstrous figure that emerged from the depths of the mirror, its form towering and inhuman. Phobos, the Greater Mirror Titan, materialized in the reflection. Its hundred limbs, long and twisted, twitched with anticipation, each one ending in a jagged, clawed hand. Its face was a reflection of nightmares—a shifting mass of darkness, hollow eyes that seemed to bore into the very essence of those who dared look upon it. The air around the titan crackled with fear itself, as if its very presence distorted the sanity of the world.

  Phobos was no ordinary titan. It was a creature of evolution, a being that had developed an intellect as sharp as its claws. It was capable of speech, a rarity among the titans. Its voice, when it spoke, was a cacophony of overlapping whispers, each one more sinister and maddening than the last.

  "Mistress," it hissed, its voice filling the chamber like a rising storm, "the time is upon us. The city of Vibrara lies unguarded, its people unaware. The women of Elysion shall be the vessels for our rebirth. Through them, the children of the titans will rise, and with them, darkness will spread across the land.”

  Rem's smile widened, her eyes gleaming with sadistic pleasure. She stepped closer to the mirror, her hand tracing the distorted reflection of Phobos as if caressing it through the glass. "Good," she purred, her voice dripping with malice. "The women of Vibrara are ripe for the taking. Their beauty, their innocence—it will all be ours. And through their despair, we shall grow stronger." Her eyes flickered with dark intent as she gazed into Phobos’ hollow eyes. "Do not fail me. Bring me the maidens, and let their screams echo across the realm. I want the world to tremble in fear before they even know what’s happening.”

  Phobos’ limbs twitched with excitement, its grotesque form almost quivering in anticipation. "The city shall tremble at my touch, Mistress," it rasped, its voice like a blade scraping against stone. "Their minds will shatter before they can even scream.” Phobos bowed, its hundred limbs folding in a grotesque display of servitude. its voice fading into the shadows as its form began to dissolve back into the mirror. But even as it disappeared, its presence lingered like a dark stain on the world.

  In the town below, where Ron and Flo were still walking through the peaceful streets, the first signs of Phobos’s influence were already beginning to take hold. A chill crept into the air, subtle at first, but growing stronger with each passing moment. The sunset, once vibrant and golden, now seemed to take on an ominous hue, the colors darkening as though the sky itself was being swallowed by the approaching darkness.

  And in the distance, unseen by the people of Vibrara, a shadow slithered across the land, moving with terrifying purpose. Phobos was coming, and with it, the end of peace. The city would soon tremble, and the women of Elysion would know the true meaning of despair.