When a Filipino got Isekai'd with a twist!
Pinoy Isekai " only I can summon those!"
Chapter 31: "The Eye of the Storm is Painted White"
The light shattered like glass.
Chunks of divine energy scattered across the battlefield, ripping through the sky and carving trenches into the earth. The Demon God's final beam—the end of everything—was broken.
And at the heart of it stood Kieth.
Barely.
His armor was gone. Charred skin peeled off in ribbons. Blood poured from open wounds, pooling around his feet. His right eye was swollen shut. Bones cracked with every breath.
But he didn't fall.
Not yet.
Then—another figure stepped beside him.
Antares.
Still standing.
Barely.
His body was a ruin. One side caved in. Blood leaked from his ribs. His sword dragged on the ground. But his grip never faltered, and his eyes still burned with fire.
"You stupid son of a bitch," Antares muttered, voice shaking. "You just don't die, huh?"
Kieth gave a crooked smile through the blood.
"Right back at you."
And then—
Antares charged.
His blade met the Demon God's chest with a roar of thunder. Sparks exploded. The god staggered—knelt.
A god, brought low.
Kieth watched, kneeling himself. His vision was going. Everything swam in colorless haze.
"Man… At least I made it this far," he muttered. "At least I led them to victo—"
Then—
He saw it.
The Demon God was smiling.
Kieth blinked. No. Squinted.
And there it was—
A shadow.
A blade.
Dark as sin. Silent. Slipping through space behind Antares, aimed to cleave him in half.
Time slowed.
His heart dropped.
He screamed inside.
But his body moved without asking.
"FUCK IT—RUN!!"
And then—a force caught him.
Pulled him up.
A shove from behind. A fist to the chest. A voice—not from here.
Everything turned black and white.
The world froze.
> "This is the last time I'll help," said the voice.
He didn't ask who it was.
He just ran.
Every tendon in his body screamed.
He ran—
One last sprint—
And slammed into Antares.
"MOVE!!"
He shoved him away.
The shadow blade came down.
SHNK—
It carved through Kieth.
From his right waist—clean to his left shoulder.
A diagonal, brutal cut.
His body twisted. Flesh split. Bone shattered.
Blood erupted in a geyser, splashing across the battlefield.
He floated—just for a second—midair.
Then, as everything in him began to tear apart, Kieth reached out with his only working hand—
And threw the medkit.
Straight at Antares.
Voice breaking. Breath stolen.
But words still his own.
> "Go get him, Tiger."
His mouth curled into a smile—
And then—
He split.
Down the cut.
One half collapsed to the ground. The other followed, eyes still open.
Silence.
Antares stared in horror—frozen. Trembling.
The medkit clicked open in his hand.
Its golden glow surged, sealing his wounds, restoring his broken form—at least enough to move.
But not enough to forget.
Not enough to stop the tears.
He stood.
Teeth gritted.
Sword lifted.
"...You'll die," he whispered. "For him."
And with that—
Antares charged the Demon God.
Not as a soldier.
Not as a hero.
But as the last will of a man who gave everything.
BOOM!!
The earth split.
Antares' sword clashed against the Demon God's claws with enough force to collapse mountains. Every strike was a cannon blast. Every movement cracked the air like thunder. The battlefield became a cratered wasteland, the skies boiling above them.
No magic. No tricks.
Just raw, animal power.
Muscle against muscle.
Blade against claw.
Fist against jaw.
Antares grunted as he took a hit to the ribs—crack—and spat blood, but swung back harder. The edge of his blade tore through divine flesh, sending a fountain of godblood spraying across the sky.
The Demon God roared, lunged, and tackled him into the ground.
BOOM!!
Dust exploded.
But Antares twisted his legs and kicked the god upward—into the air—then leapt after him like a bullet. His sword gleamed, glowing faintly with Kieth's blood still clinging to its hilt.
He swung down.
SLASH!!
The Demon God's arm—gone. Torn from its socket. The stump spewed black energy that sizzled the sky.
But the god grabbed Antares with the other hand and slammed him down like a meteor.
CRASH!!
Antares coughed blood, back arched in agony, but rolled and stabbed the Demon God's thigh—then punched his face with his bare fist, cracking divine bone.
The Demon God headbutted him.
Skull to skull.
THUNK.
Antares stumbled.
The god tackled.
Antares gritted his teeth—
And met him head-on.
They roared.
Both of them.
Like monsters.
Like dying warriors with nothing left but will.
---
Meanwhile...
Beneath the ruin. Beneath the ash.
A crawling hand, shaking and bloodied, reached across broken stone.
It was Lycana.
Her body trembled. Her white gown was soaked red. Her face bruised. Her lips cracked. But her eyes—wide, wild—were locked on one thing.
> Kieth's upper half.
Lying in the rubble.
Unmoving.
Eyes closed. Skin pale.
His blood had dried across the rocks like a mural of pain.
Lycana crawled toward him, inch by inch, dragging her limbs. Her legs wouldn't move. Her stomach was torn open. Mana—gone. Nothing left. Not even strength to stand.
She reached him.
Collapsed over his chest.
Her shaking hands touched his ruined face.
> "N-no… no no no no… please…"
She pressed her forehead to his.
Sobbing.
Her voice cracked in pieces.
> "You idiot… you goddamn idiot, you weren't supposed to die…"
She pushed her hands to his chest.
Tried to summon light.
Healing.
Anything.
But there was nothing.
> "Work… please work…"
Not even a flicker.
"Just a little," she whispered. "Just enough to keep you... with me."
Her tears hit his cheeks.
She kissed his brow.
> "Don't leave me, Kieth…"
Silence.
And then—
A twitch.
His fingers moved.
His lips opened—barely.
One bloodshot eye opened, just for a moment.
He looked at her.
Saw her face.
And smiled.
Soft.
Tired.
Relieved.
> "Hey," he whispered, barely a breath. "You're safe…"
And then—
The light in his eyes faded.
Gone.
His body slumped.
No pulse.
No breath.
Lycana froze.
Then screamed.
A scream that shattered the battlefield.
The kind of scream only someone who'd lost everything could make.
The screams faded.
Lycana's body trembled as she leaned over Kieth's remains, tears still streaking down her bloodied cheeks. But something pulled at her — a gut-deep instinct screaming that she couldn't stop. Not yet.
She turned, her arms shaking, crawling across scorched earth until her eyes caught a limp figure collapsed against shattered stone.
> "Cique…"
His face was pale. Burns covered his arms. His breathing was shallow, almost imperceptible. One eye swollen shut. His cloak torn to shreds.
He wasn't moving.
She grabbed his shoulder, shook it.
> "Cique! Wake up, please—"
No response.
Then another voice — a wet, choking sob — came from the side.
Lycana turned.
It was DER Riona.
Or what was left of her.
Her entire right arm was gone, ripped from the socket, and blood poured from the wound. She was trying to wrap her belt around her upper arm with one hand, biting down on her own shirt to muffle the screams.
Their best were broken.
Their hearts were shattered.
Everything was crumbling.
And yet—somehow—the sky still hadn't cleared.
Because the fight wasn't over.
---
POV: Antares
He couldn't feel his legs anymore.
Couldn't hear through the ringing in his ears.
Blood blinded one eye.
His jaw was broken.
His ribs were screaming.
And the Demon God… was still standing.
Breathing hard, yes. Kneeling, yes.
But still alive.
They stared each other down in silence.
Then—
The god roared and charged, claws raised.
Antares braced—but something in his mind clicked.
A memory.
A voice.
---
> "If you can't win, cheat."
> "What?"
> POOF — sand to the eyes.
> "AW YOU SON OF A BITCH!"
> Antares had fallen back, rubbing his face. "That's not honorable, dude!"
> Kieth just stood there, arms crossed, grinning like an idiot. "Look man, on the battlefield, no one gives a shit about 'honor.' All that matters is who's left standing. You do what you gotta do."
> "You're an asshole."
> "But a living asshole."
---
Back to the present.
Antares gritted his teeth.
His hand reached down—
Scooped a palmful of dirt, ash, and debris.
And just as the Demon God reared his claws back—
Antares flung the sand straight into the god's eyes.
The monster screeched, stumbling back, clawing at its face. Dark energy surged from its body in pulses of rage and panic.
> "EAT SHIT, YOU BLIND BASTARD!!" Antares roared, using the last of his strength to charge.
He gripped his blade.
The blade that Kieth once touched. The blade that carried their last chance.
His muscles screamed. Bones cracked.
But he swung.
One final strike.
Straight across the Demon God's neck.
SLASH!!
The blade bit deep.
So deep it carved through flesh, tendon, and divine bone.
There was a pause.
A heartbeat of silence.
Then—
The Demon God's head slipped from its shoulders.
And hit the ground.
The towering body twitched—once—
Then collapsed.
Dead.
Finally dead.
Antares fell to his knees.
Covered in blood.
Exhausted.
Alive.
But hollow.
The smoke drifted past him.
And far behind—
The sound of Lycana's sobbing still hadn't stopped.
Present Timeline — Edge of the Western Front, Capital Citadel Walls
The thunder of battle never reached this high. Here, above the city's desperate struggle, the wind howled and carried the scent of fire and blood—but none of that touched Princess Lyra.
She stood frozen on the high ramparts, clutching the charred stone as if it might anchor her to the world.
A soft crack echoed beside her chest.
Her breath caught.
She looked down slowly.
The necklace—the other half of Kieth has.
Forged from moon crystal and bound by vow-magic, its twin was meant to rest on Kieth's neck, pulsing faintly whenever the other was near... or in danger.
Now, it had cracked straight down the middle.
Crimson light leaked from the break like blood from a wound. And then—
Fssshh...
It burned.
Flames, gentle but final, licked the edges of the pendant, eating away at the crystal. The silver chain blackened. Her hand instinctively moved to stop it, to save it—but the fire didn't hurt her.
It just... disappeared.
Disintegrated.
The pendant turned to dust in her palm.
"No..."
Her lips barely moved. Her eyes were wide, unblinking.
"No."
Her legs gave out. She collapsed to her knees on the rampart floor, trembling fingers brushing against the dust that once held his promise.
"He's gone..." she whispered. "He's really gone..."
Around her, the world kept moving—soldiers yelled, mages called spells, and monsters screamed beyond the walls.
But for Lyra, time had stopped.
Tears streamed silently down her cheeks. Not because she didn't believe in him. No... it was because she had.
That necklace was their promise. If one of them fell, the other would know. No false alarms. No maybes.
Just truth.
Final, cruel truth.
And now it was dust in her hand.
Somewhere in the distance, a great explosion shook the sky. The citadel's walls groaned under magical bombardment.
But Lyra didn't flinch.
She closed her fist over the ashes of the necklace, heart hollow.
And for the first time since the war began, she wished the end would just come. Because without Kieth...
What was left to fight for?
Western Canyon – Heart of the Ruins
Azazel stood with one foot cracked into the earth, blood trickling down his ribs from Valeria's earlier strike. Eldrin's enchanted vines clung to his legs, hissing with divine energy, and Jessabel's mist still steamed around him, faintly glowing with mana. But none of it dimmed the cruel smile across his face.
"You're finally warming up," he said, voice like grinding bone. "Come. Hit me more."
He opened his arms, chains rattling loosely behind him.
"Struggle harder! Keep me entertained!"
The wind howled—then Jessabel struck.
Water spiraled from her trident, condensing into high-pressure harpoons of brine. She hurled them like spears, one after the other, circling Azazel from all directions.
He didn't dodge.
The first slammed into his shoulder, splintering bone.
The second pierced through his thigh.
The third dug into his side—
—and he laughed.
He tore the third harpoon out and snapped it in half with his teeth.
"Tasty."
Valeria descended from the sky, her sword blazing gold.
Valeria: "Solar Carve!"
Her blade swept in a wide arc, radiant energy igniting in its wake. Azazel raised his arm to block—he was fast, faster than his massive frame should allow—but Valeria's sword still sliced clean across his chest, searing flesh.
Steam and blood burst from the wound.
Yet the Demon King of Cruelty smiled wider.
"YESSS!!"
He drove a chain elbow into her gut before she could retreat, hurling her into the cliff wall like a comet. The rocks split behind her. She coughed blood—but pushed herself up, eyes still burning.
"Again," he roared. "Hit me again, you pathetic little monarchs!"
Eldrin stepped in now, chanting in Elvish. Green symbols spun around his arms. From the cracked canyon floor, jagged thorns of glowing stone erupted, striking toward Azazel's limbs to bind him in place.
Azazel grunted as the vines latched on—this time glowing white-green with divine runes.
He hissed, annoyed.
Eldrin shouted, "Valeria—Jessabel—now!"
Jessabel raised her arms—water gathered above Azazel in a roaring sphere, compressed tighter and tighter until it was glowing with pressure.
Valeria's wings burned bright again. She launched forward, sword trailing flame.
They struck together.
Jessabel: "Abyss Geyser!"
Valeria: "Heaven's Verdict!"
Water and fire crashed down in tandem, vapor exploding everywhere. Azazel's silhouette disappeared in a burst of steam and searing light.
BOOM—
Silence.
Then the smoke cleared.
He was still standing.
His body was burned. One eye swollen shut. Steam hissed from his body like a broken forge. But he wasn't down. He was grinning.
"Not bad," he rasped.
"Almost made me fall."
He cracked his neck. The wounds on his chest slowly knit shut, sinew reattaching beneath smoldering skin. One of Jessabel's harpoons was still stuck in his ribs. He pulled it out like a splinter and licked the blood off its tip.
Valeria landed, panting. Her blade trembled slightly.
Eldrin, barely hiding his fatigue, muttered, "He's regenerating too fast..."
Jessabel's voice was cold. "Then we need to cut deeper."
Azazel rolled his shoulders. His chains lifted behind him like wings—black, smoking, and alive.
"No. You need to entertain me more."
He crouched low.
And lunged.
Azazel vanished from sight—his body shooting forward like a demonic missile. The canyon cracked beneath his launch.
Valeria barely raised her blade in time—
CRASH!
Azazel's punch collided with her guard, a shockwave bursting outward. Her arms flared with divine mana to absorb the impact, but even then, she was launched backward. Her boots tore trenches across the earth before she managed to stop.
He didn't pause.
Chains snapped toward Jessabel like vipers. She spun in the mist, deflecting with her trident—but one caught her ankle, dragging her off-balance. She summoned a wall of water just in time to cushion the second impact.
Eldrin chanted faster, glyphs swirling around him—vines of ironwood and lightning shot from the ground to restrain Azazel.
Azazel turned with fire in his eyes.
"You just don't learn."
His hands ignited with dark fire—Cruel Flame, a forbidden magic that fed off pain—and with a roar, he tore through the bindings and flung the burning chains at Eldrin.
The Elven King crossed his arms, erecting a barrier of wind and bark—
But the chains broke through.
Blood splattered as Eldrin was thrown back, slamming into a ridge of stone.
Azazel stood tall, scorched, laughing like a beast unchained.
"Don't disappoint me now," he growled, licking his lips. "We're only getting started."
---
Capital Outskirts – Hero POV
BOOM!
Flames and smoke filled the sky as the battlefield descended into pure chaos. The ruins of the outer wall burned. Screams echoed. Metal clashed against fang, claw, and chainsaw.
Josh stood at the front—blade drawn, face steeled. Beside him, Cane spun his gauntlets. Vismond vanished and reappeared atop a rooftop, already scouting. Behind them, Chris levitated, mana crackling in the air around his floating grimoire. King Youm stood among the troops, his presence calm but sharp—like an unsheathed dagger waiting to strike.
Before them—
Ted the Butcher, covered in blood, wielding dual cleavers longer than most men's torsos.
Jack the Ripper, eerily still, licking a scalpel, blades hidden beneath his coat.
Frank Abigneil, grinning as thousands of clones surged like a wave behind him, each carrying a twisted weapon and wearing his smug expression.
And looming behind them, hands stained with black blood, stood Josef Mengele—half-man, half-beast, with twisted spines and experimental syringes growing from his arms like tumors. Behind him, a massive army of chimeras—beasts with human faces, wolf bodies, bird wings, and serpent tails—screeched and stampeded toward the capital.
The four heroes tensed.
Josh lowered his stance. "We split them. Cane with me—Josef's mine."
Chris nodded. "I'll slow down the clones. Vismond... you know what to do."
Vismond vanished.
Ted roared and charged, spinning like a death wheel, blades shrieking against the ground.
Josh met him with a parry, redirecting the cleaver and counter-slashing with his divine sword. Sparks flew.
Cane launched at the chimeras, punching one clean through the chest and sending it flying into its own allies.
Jack moved like a whisper, appearing behind King Youm with a needle aimed for the spine.
But Youm caught it.
"Try harder."
He twisted Jack's wrist and flung him into a building.
Chris's magic exploded—"Mana Wall: Hundred Spears!"—impaling a line of Frank clones, though more kept coming. Thousands. Tens of thousands. It was a flood.
"Damn it, he's cloning faster now!" Chris shouted. His eyes glowed as he conjured arcane chains, binding ten clones and blasting them with solar fire.
Vismond appeared behind the real Frank—dagger pressed to his throat.
"You didn't account for me."
Frank grinned.
"That's not me."
He exploded.
Vismond vanished in time, but Frank's laughter echoed from the dozens of other bodies.
"Which one am I~?"
Then Josef bellowed, arms transforming into tentacles of steel and bone, lashing at Cane and the soldiers. His chimeras overwhelmed several knights in a blur of fangs and mutated limbs.
Cane roared and punched the ground—sending out a shockwave that flattened a dozen beasts.
Josh, meanwhile, parried Ted again—then scored a slash across his ribs.
Blood sprayed.
Ted laughed.
"DEEPER!"
He rammed his head into Josh's, both their foreheads cracking like thunder.
"You're not even halfway done yet, Sword King!"
The battle was chaos incarnate.
But they weren't done either.
Josh wiped blood from his lip, eyes narrowing.
"Then let's go all in."
The battlefield stank of sulfur, blood, and rot. A chimera, half-horse, half-serpent, lunged at Cane with its gaping maw wide. He caught it mid-air and snapped its neck with a twist of his gauntlet.
"Disgusting," he muttered, stomping the corpse aside.
But more were coming—dozens, maybe hundreds.
Josef Mengele, hunched like a twisted mad scientist-god, loomed atop a mound of writhing flesh. His entire back pulsated with tubes and syringes, injecting glowing green serums into his already-deformed body.
"You're strong, gladiator," Josef said, voice warping from reverb and mechanical distortion. "Let's test your limits."
He screeched, and the chimeras surged.
Cane activated his Brute Aspect: Titan Skin. His body expanded, muscle swelling, skin glowing with radiant inscriptions carved from ancient martial lore.
He waded into the flood.
Boom! Crack! Smash!
Each punch flattened an abomination. He grabbed a two-headed wolf-man by the tail and swung it like a flail, crushing six others.
But Josef descended like a demon god, using his syringes as tentacle whips. One coiled around Cane's leg—injecting some black concoction.
Cane gritted his teeth as the serum boiled under his skin. "You think… poison'll slow me down?"
He roared, veins glowing gold, and ripped the tentacle off, tossing Josef across the battlefield like a ragdoll. But Josef landed with a squelch, regenerated instantly—cackling.
"I invented immortality, gladiator! What do you have?!"
Cane cracked his neck, smiled grimly.
"A reason to fight."
---
Front 2: Chris and Vismond vs. the Frank Clone Swarm
"Too many…" Chris muttered, hovering midair, eyes burning bright.
Thousands of Franks flooded every street, every rooftop. All dressed the same. All mocking.
Vismond reappeared next to him, cloak torn but blades still sharp.
"They're all decoys. But the mana signature—some of these are flesh puppets, not illusions."
Chris frowned. "So he's mixing tech and magic. Smart bastard."
Chris waved his hand—"Time Dilation Field: Sector Gamma!"—and froze a quadrant of clones, allowing soldiers to break through.
Vismond closed his eyes. "There. The real mana fluctuation—it's not here."
He pointed toward the eastern cliffside, where smoke billowed near the ruins of a tech bunker.
Chris's eyes widened. "That's… Keith's old R&D facility."
Then the sky shook.
From the ruins, a beam of blue energy lit up the clouds—followed by the slow rise of a massive humanoid figure.
Painted black and green, mismatched plating, glowing like an unstable reactor, the stolen Zerokaizer emerged—clearly modeled after Kieth's Gundam but distorted, rough, incomplete, with extra weapon systems strapped on like a madman's fever dream.
And seated within it, grinning wide, was Frank Abigneil—the Chameleon.
"Surprise~" his voice echoed across the battlefield, booming via loudspeakers. "Let's see how you all like fighting your precious Gundam."
---
Front 3: The Smaller Nation Royals vs. Zerokaizer
The last royal defenders—King Ulrich of Vanaheim, Queen Maris of Ankar, High Priest Khaled, and Blade-Queen Althea—stood together at the ridgeline, faces pale.
"That's… Zerokaizer…" Maris whispered, trembling. "Kieth's machine..."
Ulrich tightened his grip on his axe. "No. It's been corrupted."
Zerokaizer's mono-eye turned crimson. A railgun folded out of its back.
Then came the voice again.
"Come on. Entertain me, little kings and queens. You're all next!"
The railgun fired.
BOOOOM!
The cliff exploded.
Smoke and ash blanketed the sky as the new phase of the war began—against the one who stole the legacy of a hero and turned it into a weapon of madness.
The Zerokaizer descended like a fallen star, crushing trees and cliffside ruins beneath its armored feet. Frank Abigneil—The Chameleon—cackled in its cockpit, surrounded by a twisted blend of Kieth's stolen tech and his own dark modifications.
"Come on!" he bellowed, slamming controls. "Bleed for me!"
The railgun hummed again, energy spiraling into its barrel.
High Priest Khaled stepped forward, slamming his staff into the ground. "Divine Barrier: Shield of Forty Names!"
A golden dome erupted over them just as the beam fired—the explosion rattled the heavens, but the barrier held, barely, cracking like strained glass.
Queen Maris of Ankar darted behind rubble, muttering a series of fast incantations—water sigils formed and spun around her, glowing.
"Ulrich!" she yelled. "We need a clear path!"
The King of Vanaheim roared like a berserker and charged, armor blazing with runes. He leapt—hammer overhead—and slammed it into Zerokaizer's shin.
The metal dented—sparks flew—but the mech barely stumbled.
Blade-Queen Althea moved next, blurring between falling debris, cutting through the air like lightning. Her blade carved into a weak point behind Zerokaizer's knee. "Now!"
Maris unleashed her spell—a spiral of freezing water that twisted into drills, slamming into the damaged joint.
It buckled—Zerokaizer knelt for a moment.
Frank's smile faded.
"Tch. Okay… I guess you deserve a LITTLE effort."
He flipped a switch. The back panels of the mech opened, revealing an array of missile pods, mini-turrets, and a core laser lens forming on the chest.
"You're all just worms under a magnifying glass."
Beep. Beep. BEEEEEEEP.
He fired everything.
The hill exploded. Magic and stone shattered. The barrier broke.
Screams echoed.
But before the dust cleared—
---
Elsewhere: Josh vs. Ted the Butcher
Ted slammed his blood-forged greatsword down, and Josh sidestepped, letting it cleave the earth instead.
"Don't think I've forgotten your face," Ted growled, grinning. "You're the Sword King, right? Let's see if that title's earned."
Josh didn't answer. His eyes burned with focus, movements sharp, minimal, lethal. Each slash was precise—clean.
Ted was a butcher, a wall of muscle and madness, fighting like a predator.
Josh was a blade. Pure intent.
Their weapons clashed, again and again, sending shockwaves across the battlefield.
Ted laughed louder, even as a shallow cut opened across his chest. "YES! That's it! Fight like he did! Like Kieth did! Give me that rage!"
Josh's calm cracked for a moment.
Ted noticed. Smiled wider.
"That's right… you heard, didn't you?"
Josh said nothing.
Ted pointed upward, toward the flaming wreckage in the distance. "Your boy? Your hero? He's gone. And his toy? It's mine now."
Josh's grip on his sword tightened—just as Cane's shout echoed behind him.
---
Meanwhile: Cane, bleeding, stood over Josef's shattered body
Josef had regenerated again. And again. And again.
Cane was panting, blood-soaked. But still standing.
"You think you've won?" Josef hissed, rising once more.
Cane reached for his final card—"Gladiator Soul: Loyalty Incarnate."
His body lit up in gold. He charged, screaming—and struck with a punch that blew Josef's entire upper half away.
"I'm DONE with your twisted science," Cane growled.
Josef, still twitching, whispered, "But your friend… he's already—"
Then a sudden crack in the sky stopped everything.
From the remains of the fortress ruins behind enemy lines… a low rumble began. A hum.
The battlefield froze.
Even Zerokaizer paused, its railgun idling as Frank glanced over his shoulder, frowning.
Vismond blinked, suddenly overwhelmed by an aura—a divine presence crawling back into the world.
A voice—clear, commanding, ancient and young all at once—rang across the skies:
"IT'S READY!"
Lady Lycana stood atop the cliff. Her robes torn, face pale, eyes glowing with tears and resolve.
Behind her, nestled deep within the remains of the original hangar bay… something stirred.
A faint light flickered.
Then flared.
The original Gundam—Kieth's RX-78-2, long dormant and damaged, came back to life.
Its eyes glowed green, burning with vengeance.
The winds roared.
Magic pulsed. As the eyes of Gundam Rx-78-2 Glows then it flew up to the skies.
To be continued....