The dawn clung thickly over the cities that had lost their names. In Thirtos, on the ash-covered streets, the remaining female paladins of Gaia gathered in the ruins of Basilisk Hall—where they once swore allegiance under the banner of Queen Iris. No more banners. Only broken armor, shattered swords, and blood that never dried on their hands.
Among them was the vacant gaze of Elara, a young paladin who seemed more affected by this tragedy than the others. Her heart trembled, struggling between the desire to fight and the suffocating despair; was there still hope for them? Every passing second reminded her of the lost friends, and the tears she held back felt heavier than the armor she wore.
Their new commander, Erith Lysandra—standing with wounds all over her body, faced the remnants of a force that numbered less than twenty souls. "You all know, we are no longer the guardians of the throne. We are the guardians of meaning. If this oath ends in our hands, let the world know: Gaia once had women who preferred death over submission to tyranny!"
A small but vibrant cry erupted from the lips of the remaining paladins. There was a rumble of spirit, yet behind their brave faces, worry crept in. "Are we strong enough?" Mira asked, her voice trembling with doubt. In her heart, she struggled against the thought that this struggle might be in vain, but the urge to fulfill the oath and recreate meaning in this shattered world ignited her spirit.
No more doubt, only the last determination burning in their gazes.
In the sanctuary beneath Oda, the surviving protectors who escaped the pursuit of Earth gathered with Nobuzan, Iris, Mitsuyori, and Erisa. The air was thick with dust and the smell of blood, but in those dark corners, a new oath was spoken, not with words, but with actions.
From the corner of the room, Nobuzan felt the weight in her chest—each remaining protector was the last hope for a threatened world. She remembered the faces of her fallen friends, every smile and all the sacrifices they made. Those fragments of memory made her heart tremble, reigniting the spirit that had almost faded. "We are not just fighting to save ourselves," she said to them, her voice low but full of strength, "We are fighting for a better future."
Erisa embraced Iris, whispering in her ear, "If I fall before you are safe, keep our name alive. The world will forget everything, except your courage tonight."
A sense of anxiety enveloped Erisa, not only for her survival but also for Iris, who was full of potential. She knew that Iris possessed extraordinary power that seemed hidden within her, and now was the time for her to shine. "You have the power to change everything, Iris. Don't hesitate to use it, even if it means stepping into the darkness."
Nobuzan looked at each remaining protector, her eyes full of fire. "You may die. But make sure every death takes one enemy into the dark with you."
For a moment, she saw doubt in the eyes of some paladins—fear, fatigue, and despair. However, she knew that within their hearts lay an unyielding spirit. "Remember," she added firmly, "Every drop of blood we sacrifice today is for those who can no longer fight."
Mitsuyori, breathless from exhausting her illusion magic, raised her hand. "I will make them see the shadows of a thousand protectors in every corridor. There is no easy path to the altar of the two mothers of the world."
She could feel the magical offering surging within her, but she also struggled against the pressing fatigue. She wanted to perform better, to protect her friends even though her strength was nearly spent. "Remember," she said, "Every illusion I create is a new possibility for survival."
The protectors nodded. Their eyes were now dark with determination—none would give up tonight.
Above the surface, the Earth forces prepared to storm the last underground sanctuary, led by Valen the Exorcist and Kestral the Tactician. They brought large automatons, glyph cannons, and blood tracking teams.
But among their ranks, doubt crept into the hearts of some paladins. Kestral felt a weight in his chest, not only from the responsibility of being a leader but also from the fear of the potential failure that might befall them. The tense atmosphere seemed to suffocate them in dark shadows.
However, as they descended the corridor, Mitsuyori's illusion led them astray in the shadows of thousands of paladins. Every step they took was haunted by the sounds of sacrifice spells, the screams of victims that were never real, and the flashes of swords that always came from unexpected corners.
Valen unleashed the Heavenbane Seal, trying to pierce through the layers of illusion magic. He knew that the uncertainty among his comrades could be a deadly weapon. "We cannot hesitate! Remember what we are fighting for!" he shouted, trying to rally their fighting spirit.
"Chase the two mothers of the world! Eliminate anyone who stands in our way!"
Yet every automaton they sent exploded in a blaze of glyph fire created by Joanna, who now controlled Michael's flames from the sky—raining blue fire upon the Earth forces that could not be extinguished by water or spells. In his heart, Valen felt the weight of the sacrifices they had to pay; every lost life was part of the price that had to be paid for the future.
Kestral gazed at the blue flames, recalling the figures of fallen comrades. "We promised to protect this world," he said softly, his voice barely audible amidst the chaos. This battle was not just about victory, but also about honoring those who had fallen.
Above the ruins, Joanna hovered, her wings of light now folded, her face transformed—not just belonging to a princess, but also the legacy of Michael and all the fallen paladins. She raised both hands, gathering the remaining glyph power in the world, and whispered in a language unknown to anyone.
In her heart, a deep pain stirred. She felt heavy, not only from the burden she had to bear but also from the bitter memories of her friends who were now gone. Each fog of memory brought back their voices—laughter, hope, and invaluable sacrifices. "I must avenge all of this," she thought, increasingly shaken by the spirit to defend those who had fallen, and to ensure that their sacrifices were not in vain.
"I am not hope. I am anger and legacy. Your oath, paladins, flows in my veins. Every tear, every drop of blood that falls, will fuel my fire tonight. Let the world know, your deaths are not in vain."
The blue fire ignited in the sky, forming a new glyph sigil above the city, becoming the last shield over the protectors who remained below. Joanna's expression reflected the tension within her. She knew that, despite her extraordinary power, the decisions she made in the next moments could determine the fate of many souls. She struggled with guilt—was she worthy enough to bear the oaths of all the paladins? It was very possible that this burden would crush her if she was not careful.
Joanna was now truly taking on Michael's role, becoming the heart of all the oaths that still endured in the world. She was ready, even though her small heart trembled with fear. "Can I execute this plan correctly?" she asked herself. Doubt clouded her mind, but deep in her heart, a firm voice reminded her, "For them, I will fight until the end." Her struggle was not just for victory, but to ensure that every fallen protector was remembered with respect and honor.
Erith Lysandra and her forces held back the last wave of Earth forces that had managed to breach the underground altar. With their last strength, they fought in close quarters—swords against spears, spells against glyph disruptors. One by one, protectors fell, but every lost life created a magical explosion that slowed the enemy.
In the midst of the chaos, Erith felt the heavy burden of responsibility on her shoulders. Every strike she made was not just for survival, but to uphold the hope of all who had fought alongside her. In those tense moments, the memory of her fallen comrades' smiles strengthened her resolve, making her fight harder so that their sacrifices would not be in vain.
Iris and Nobuzan held hands at the altar, ready to begin the sacrificial ritual if the enemy managed to breach their last defense. However, in Iris's heart, doubt began to creep in. She wondered if she was ready to sacrifice her life for victory. A voice within her whispered, warning her that every action taken could mean losing someone she loved.
Erisa, at the front of the altar door, struck down three Earth soldiers before finally being pierced by a spear and falling into Iris's embrace. "I... have... come... far enough, Queen... keep the world... alive."
Iris held back her tears. "Your sacrifice is not in vain, Erisa. There will be no death that is in vain tonight." She could feel the despair weighing on her heart, but she was determined to remain steadfast; she had to be the light in this darkness.
At the peak of the chaos, Valen and Kestral finally broke through to the altar, only to be confronted by Mitsuyori's illusions and Joanna's glyph fire. In the blaze of blue flames that could not be extinguished, Joanna stood in the middle of the battlefield, shouting with Michael's voice:
"This is Gaia and Oda's final oath. If you wish to defile the womb of the world, take a step—but that step is towards your own grave."
The Earth forces hesitated, some retreating, others burning in the glyph fire that erased their names from the world. Yet Valen felt a deep pull in his heart; amidst the raging war, he still remembered the sweet memories of his childhood—when he and his siblings played in the meadows. Was all of this worth it for a world that seemed so divided?
In the noise, Kestral looked at Joanna, recalling all the sacrifices they had made to reach this moment. The fighting spirit flared within him, but the fear of failure clouded his mind. He could not let fear rob them of their chance. This battle was about hope, not just for themselves, but for all of humanity.
A new dawn began to peek through the smoke and debris, signaling the end of the night of the last oaths of the protectors. But in the hearts of Joanna, Nobuzan, and Iris, that oath had transformed into an ember that would burn until the world was truly reborn—or destroyed along with their anger.
Joanna, with a face wet with tears and blood, felt a burden heavier than she had ever imagined. She remembered the first time she lifted a sword, her dream of protecting the people she loved. Now, every step towards victory felt like a betrayal of her own vow not to let her life become a tool for slaughter. She struggled against the voice in her heart that whispered that everything she was doing might be in vain and that there were limits to fighting for what she believed to be the truth.
Nobuzan, who had long been a dark shadow haunting her trail of blood, felt something swell within her—a rise between anxiety and courage. In the morning silence, she envisioned the people who had been lost; friends who had once fought by her side, now only memories. This emotional attachment was indeed a source of strength, but also a weakness. Every promise she made felt contradictory; how much she wanted to give her life for this battle, yet how much she feared what she might have to sacrifice to achieve it.
With hope and pain intertwined, Iris lifted her head. She remembered the protectors who had once fought alongside them—the faces that now vanished into the dark shadows. A gentle breeze swept through her hair, and she felt a warm certainty, as if the spirits of the protectors were still there, urging her to hold on amidst the storm. She was determined to move forward, not just for themselves, but also to honor the memory of those who had gone—a shadow guiding her steps in the midst of the doubts that continued to loom.