Chapter 5: Chapter 4: Daybreak

The blow cracked the stage in half.

A thunderous boom echoed across the square as splintered wood and shrapnel shot into the air, a storm of debris erupting outward. Screams tore through the chaos as the crowd fled in all directions, trampling benches and each other in blind panic.

“Princess!” Amelia cried.

A tremor rippled through the ground. The shockwave knocked Elvira off her seat with a gasp—but before she could hit the floor, Amelia caught her, shielding her body with her own.

“W-what’s happening?!” Elvira shouted, clinging to her.

“You need to get out of here,” Amelia said, urgency seizing her voice. Smoke began to rise around them as more guards rushed to her side, their blades drawn. Amelia reached out with her hand, the shadows twisting, beginning to envelop the princess—preparing the teleportation spell.

Then came a sound—low, guttural, primal.

A growl.

It grew louder. Closer.

“Boss, look out!” one of the guards shouted.

Amelia looked up—

A massive dragon loomed above them, its jaws wide, eyes burning with molten fury. Before she could move, the beast lunged, its fangs stretching toward her and the princess—

A flash.

A searing beam of white light ripped through the smoke and slammed into the dragon’s skull. The impact scorched away its scales, leaving behind charred flesh and twisted, blackened bone.

The monster reeled back with a deafening roar.

Deimos stood before them—silver light radiating from his body, his lance glowing like a star in his hand. Smoke hissed and curled around him, his eyes locked on the shadow the dragon had retreated into.

“A…amazing,” Elvira breathed, trembling.

Amelia could only stare, wide-eyed.

Goddess…? Deimos thought, staring at his weapon. Your essence… no—your core. I can feel it inside of me.

He clutched his chest as a wave of dread swept over him.

What have you done?

But there was no time to question.

From within the smoke, another growl rumbled—deeper now, furious. A red glow shimmered in the gloom like coals.

Then the dragon charged.

Its maw opened wide, a vortex of fire building in its throat—then it released it all at once.

A torrent of flame burst forth, engulfing the ground in molten destruction. The earth cracked beneath the weight of the attack, heat distorting the air.

Amelia acted fast—teleporting the princess away in a blink. But the fire kept coming.

It swallowed Deimos whole.

Then surged onward toward the guards.

They didn’t stand a chance.

The flames melted armor, then flesh, then bone, leaving behind nothing but ash.

Amelia braced herself, jaw clenched. Her hands rose, ready to shield—but before the fire reached her, it changed.

Red turned to white.

The flames shifted, swirled, then recoiled—reversing their course as if caught in a vortex. They circled around Deimos' form, pulled toward the center of the storm.

The white flames twisted, compressed, then surged into the glowing form of Helios.

The weapon pulsed.

A radiant sun-like sigil flared across its handle.

Deimos stood frozen, watching the remnants of fire—now plasma—swirl around him and vanish into the weapon. The light danced along his armor, casting long shadows.

Eirene… is this you? he murmured.

A roar shattered the silence.

The dragon burst forward, its claw raised to crush him—

Amelia intercepted, blade flashing.

CRACK!

Her cut split the dragon’s scales wide open. The beast howled in pain, stumbling back as blood hissed onto the molten floor.

“Why…?” Deimos whispered, voice shaking. “Why would you shatter your own core… and give me a piece of it?”

The dragon wasn’t done.

It lunged at Amelia, fangs bared.

She met its strike head-on, crossing her sword with its jaws, holding it open by sheer force. Her feet dragged across the ground, heels digging furrows in the dirt as she strained against its strength.

“Tch—!” she grunted.

The heat rose. Sweat streamed down her face as the dragon’s throat glowed behind its teeth—lava-light building.

She looked down.

Below her, the throat of the beast opened like a volcano.

And she was hanging right above it.

Deimos saw it.

He reached for Helios.

The moment his hand touched the hilt, something inside the weapon ignited.

White flames burst from his back like wings—raw, beautiful, and uncontrollable. Arkhaios energy surged.

Gears turned.

Metal shifted.

The lance groaned as it began to transform.

“H-huh?” he gasped, watching it happen. “Eirene… what are you—?”

The weapon reshaped itself before his eyes—shaft widening, plates rotating, runes glowing.

A barrel.

A receiver.

A trigger.

When the transformation finished, Deimos no longer held a lance.

He wielded a railgun.

And the plasma that had once circled his body now churned within the chamber of a weapon taller than he was—screaming with energy.

But the weapon was impossibly heavy.

Deimos staggered as the railgun’s weight pulled his arms down like anchors. It slipped from his grasp and slammed into the earth with a seismic crack, embedding itself halfway into the ground.

Even he couldn't lift it.

The glow in the dragon’s throat intensified, heat shimmering like liquid glass around its maw. Amelia hung, her body tense, eyes narrowing—

Then a roar of cannonfire split the air.

A barrage of artillery crashed into the dragon’s side, blasting it off its feet and into a nearby building. The explosion sent masonry and flame in every direction. Debris rained over the square like a second storm, crushing civilians who hadn’t yet escaped. Screams rang out as guards poured in from every corner, some deflecting falling rubble with shields, others desperately trying to pull the wounded from beneath the ruins.

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From beneath the wreckage of the shattered stage, the announcer clawed his way out. Bloodied, clothes torn, barely conscious.

He looked up—just in time to see a massive stone slab descending toward him like a guillotine.

SHINK.

In a blur of silver, Amelia appeared in front of him. Her blade sliced the stone into a thousand glinting shards before it touched him, the pieces falling harmlessly to the ground around her.

“You need to get out of here. Now!” she barked.

The announcer could only nod, eyes wide.

But he didn’t get the chance to move.

The dragon’s roar shattered the air.

It wasn’t just sound—it was a weapon.

The blast of sonic force was so immense that every window in the city square exploded. The announcer’s eyes went blood-red as every vessel in his head ruptured. He collapsed with a sickening thud.

Amelia staggered, blood trickling from her nose, knees buckling beneath her. All around the square, guards fell one by one, dropping their shields, convulsing.

Even the civilians they tried to protect crumpled under the weight of the sound.

Deimos stood among them—still. Silent. Frozen.

Watching them fall.

And all he could do… was watch.

“No… no, no no,” he muttered, breath catching in his throat. His hands trembled as he reached again for the weapon lodged in the earth.

It wouldn’t move.

The railgun throbbed with divine energy—Arkhaios energy—but his strength failed him.

“I’ve failed you, Eirene…” he whispered. “You made me your vessel. You gave me your strength. Your purpose.”

His eyes trembled with helpless rage.

“And I can’t even do the one thing you asked of me.”

Behind the smoke and ruin, the dragon clawed through rubble, rooting through the remains of the fallen. Its nostrils flared as it sniffed out something gleaming.

A golden bangle. A shattered pendant. Trinkets from the festival.

It swallowed them whole.

And before Deimos’ eyes, its face and arm—once scorched and mangled—began to regenerate. Flesh knitted itself over bone, scales sliding back into place like armor reborn.

“I’m sorry… goddess,” he whispered, as the beast turned its glowing gaze toward him. Its jaws opened once more, fire building.

A final blast of flame raced toward him—

But it never reached.

A tide of black shadow swept in from the side, crashing into the fire and devouring it whole. The heat vanished. The light dimmed.

Then came the growl.

Massive. Deep. Bestial.

From the smoke emerged a colossal black wolf—two stories tall, fur made of void and starlight. Its eyes glowed like eclipse moons. And riding astride the monster, her silhouette framed against the burning sky—

Was Princess Elvira.

Gone was her delicate gown—now replaced with a regal suit of battle-armor, golden-edged and rune-etched. A glowing moon crest blazed at her chest. All around her, floating in a protective formation, were divine humans cloaked in elemental auras—Avatars.

They hovered like fireflies around her and the beast, ready to strike.

Elvira leapt from the wolf’s back and landed beside Deimos. Her armored boots cracked the scorched stone.

“Tarot of the Sun—can you still fight?” she asked, hand on his shoulder.

Before he could answer, the dragon charged.

Elvira spun.

“Midnight—attack!”

The black wolf snarled, launching itself forward like a missile. It collided with the dragon mid-charge, the impact sending shockwaves through the square. Avatars circled overhead, launching blasts of fire, water, lightning—each element crashing down on the dragon in turn.

From the far side of the battlefield, Amelia—still dazed—watched the scene unfold. Her vision blurred, head pounding.

“Elvira… why?” she murmured. “Why have you come back?”

Then a gentle green glow enveloped her.

She turned to find Elizabeth kneeling beside her, dressed in cracked leather armor, her hands outstretched in a healing ritual. Her hair was turning pale strand by strand from the exertion.

“Elizabeth?” Amelia breathed.

The woman gritted her teeth, sweat pouring down her temples as she pushed more healing magic into Amelia’s body.

“You shouldn’t be here!” Amelia exclaimed, grabbing her arms. “Where’s Birgitta?!”

Elizabeth coughed, nearly collapsing into Amelia’s arms. “I… I came to help. You… and the Sun Tarot…”

She gasped for breath. Her magic was nearly spent.

“The royal army reached the village,” she managed. “They… they took Birgitta to safety…”

Amelia followed her gaze.

Above the clash of dragon and wolf, a fleet of Avatars danced in formation—glowing symbols trailing behind them like comets.

The dragon reared back, its lungs swelling.

Another scream was coming.

But before the sound could escape, Midnight lunged—fangs like blades driving into the dragon’s neck. The beast let out a strangled roar as it crashed to the ground beneath the wolf’s weight.

The black monster mauled it savagely, dragging it through the stone and ash as avatars continued to rain down elemental fury—fireballs, spears of ice, arcs of lightning.

And then—

From the smoke—

Figures leapt into the air like shadows breaking from gravity itself.

The guards.

Imbued with dragon blood, their eyes glowing with infernal light, they hurled themselves upward, tackling Avatars mid-flight. Bodies collided. Wings snapped. Spirits crashed through buildings, bursting through walls in flashes of colored flame and energy.

The battlefield fractured into chaos again.

And in the center of it all—Deimos still knelt, his hands resting on the railgun that would not move.

Then—

A voice.

Soft. Serene. Infinite.

“Deimos.”

He lifted his head.

The battle, the screams, the fire—all gone.

In their place: a vast, sunlit field of white flowers swaying in slow motion. Petals shimmered with hints of gold and violet. The sky stretched on forever, glowing like the dawn of creation.

And before him—

Her.

Eirene.

The Goddess of Concord.

She stood barefoot in the flowers, light spilling from her skin, her silver hair floating as though caught in a soft, sacred wind.

“Goddess…” Deimos whispered, breath trembling.

He rose slowly, knees weak—not from exhaustion, but emotion. His voice cracked.

“Why have you left me alone?”

He looked down.

“I… I can’t carry on my mission knowing you’re not here. I was created for a purpose, to serve your will—but what happens after I fulfill it? What’s left when it’s all over? Who… do I return to?”

His hands clenched.

These weren’t thoughts a Tarot was designed to have.

He was forged for purpose, not plagued by doubt.

And yet—he felt it.

Deeply.

The longing. The fear. The isolation.

For the first time, he felt human.

Eirene said nothing for a long moment. She only smiled. A soft, understanding smile that held everything behind it.

Then she stepped forward and placed her hand gently on his chest.

Directly over his core.

“You are not alone, Deimos,” she said, her voice like a lullaby woven from stars. “I am within you.”

He stared at her, eyes wide.

“To fulfill your purpose,” she continued, “you must understand why that purpose matters.”

She gestured to the flowers around them—white petals made of flame and plasma now blooming from the ground, from him, growing across his body in radiant patterns.

“I gave you a piece of myself—not just to strengthen you, but to awaken you. To allow you to feel the very thing you’ve been charged with protecting.”

Humanity.

“These thoughts, these doubts, these conflicts—they are not weaknesses,” she whispered. “They are lessons. And you must learn to carry them… if you wish to carry out your purpose.”

Deimos looked down at his arms—the flowers spread along them, wrapping around the hilt of the railgun.

The weapon began to glow again.

And this time, he could feel it—responding to him.

No longer just a conduit of divine power.

But an extension of his soul.

“You should no longer burden yourself with such conflicting thoughts, my child,” Eirene whispered, her voice like sunlight through mist. “You are the Sun Tarot—a beacon of joy and hope. And now, you must be that very image that humanity needs.”

The doubt within Deimos began to burn away.

A new light stirred inside him—brighter, warmer, alive.

The true Sun was awakening.

He reached for the railgun once more. It still resisted—but no longer felt impossible. Steam hissed from its core as it rose slowly from the earth.

Eirene stepped beside him, her presence ethereal. Her long silver hair curled around his shoulders like the breath of divinity. Together, they lifted the weapon, her hand atop his. She looked at him, eyes brimming with radiant hope.

“I can offer you my strength, and I will guide you,” she said. “But the path forward—your choices, your feelings—that is yours to forge. That is what it means to be human.”

The railgun locked into place, aimed toward the battlefield.

“...Tarot of the Sun?” Elvira murmured from below.

She watched Deimos lift the weapon with newfound purpose—his movements slow, deliberate, graceful. Light danced along his body. And on his face, for the first time… was a smile.

But her awe faded into dread.

The dragon was rising again.

Its limbs regenerated faster than before. Midnight still clawed at its back, but it was no use—the beast had grown stronger, drunk on gold, rage, and blood.

“Midnight—return to me!” Elvira shouted.

At once, the great wolf’s ears perked up. Its body shrank mid-leap, vanishing into shadows, then reappearing in Elvira’s arms—now no larger than a hunting dog. It wrapped itself protectively around her like a living cloak.

The dragon roared, framed by the moon. Its chest glowed, mouth opening wide, preparing to unleash another apocalyptic breath.

Around them, the battlefield was in ruins.

The dragon-blooded guards had overpowered most of the Avatars. Bodies littered the square. Smoke and red light washed over the broken city.

Amelia stepped forward, weapon raised—

But Elizabeth grabbed her wrist.

“Wait,” she said, pointing.

Deimos now stood tall. Completely still.

Helios was aimed directly at the dragon’s heart.

On the other side of this world-between-worlds, Eirene’s voice asked one final question:

“Do you understand now?”

Deimos smiled softly.

“Yes,” he said. “I do.”

He glanced toward the goddess beside him, his voice full of quiet gratitude.

“Thank you, my goddess.”

He placed his finger on the trigger.

And fired.

The ground shook.

A deafening crack echoed across the world as a beam of pure solar energy erupted from the railgun. It ripped through the battlefield like divine judgment—an endless ray of white-gold light that disintegrated everything in its path.

The dragon turned in horror. It sensed the overwhelming force of the beam—far too late.

It choked back its fire, attempting to flee.

But the Sun was faster.

The light tore through its chest, obliterating its heart mid-beat.

It never even had time to scream.

Silence.

Amelia threw herself over Elizabeth to shield her from the aftershock. When the light finally died down, the dragon stood still.

Then, like a building with its foundation destroyed, it collapsed—soundless, breathless. A massive hole gaped through its torso, molten guts spilling out before turning to dust.

All across the battlefield, eyes widened. No one moved. No one spoke.

Helios hissed, its glow vanishing as it slowly shifted back into its original form—a lance once more.

Deimos stood unmoving, steam curling around him.

Then he walked—slowly—toward the dragon’s body, the ash crunching beneath his feet. Its monstrous form was beginning to dissolve, flaking into golden embers that floated toward the heavens.

He stepped atop the fading remains, kneeling beside its skull. Its eyelids twitched, barely clinging to life.

But he did not strike again.

He turned instead, looking out across the devastation.

The city—once bright with joy and music—was silent, scarred, broken. Grief hung heavy in the air.

And yet… within him, something had changed.

“I was created to serve,” he murmured. “Forged with a single purpose.”

He looked down at his hands—hands now his own.

“But the goddess has given me a gift far greater than purpose.”

He stepped down from the dragon’s corpse.

“She gave me the power to change. To feel. To hate, to love, to grow…”

He paused, gaze lifting to the people watching—Amelia, Elvira, Elizabeth, and what few remained.

“To feel more than the fixed nature of a Tarot.”

A single white flower, made of flame, bloomed from the charred stone beside him.

“She gave me the power to be human.”