[T]he world had come to an end.
Once-vibrant landscapes that showcased lush greeneries now lay reduced to barren wastelands, a grim picture of devastation and forsaken ruins.
Above stretched an endless expanse of red-black skies, as if a mark that this was indeed the end.
In the middle of such chaos, a woman stood with ethereal beauty contrasting starkly with her surroundings.
Her hair cascaded down her waist in obsidian waterfall, eyes like sapphires, reflecting the purity of a blue sky. Clad in a delicate, billowing white dress that dance with the wind, she appeared almost surreal.
The only flaw in her beauty was the black veins running from her neck to her chin, marring her otherwise fair skin.
"Must you have taken it this far, Ionia?" the voice of a remarkably handsome man sliced through the air.
His hateful gaze, like daggers piercing through the ethereal beauty of the woman, appeared to regard her as nothing more than common earth.
"Tsk! It would seem you resorted to these dramatic measures to catch my attention. But was it truly necessary for you to stoop so low? You obliterated everything we so valiantly defended, all because you couldn't claim me for yourself?"
The icy, lethal intensity in his eyes, as though they yearned to rip her to shred, carried a haunting familiarity.
It was the same gaze that had haunted her throughout her eighteen years of existence, all because she was born out of wedlock.
"Your words reek of hypocrisy, Duke!" The woman referred to as Ionia retorted, her expression void of emotions.
If those words hadn't left her lips, she could've easily been mistaken for a lifeless doll.
Continuing on, she added, "Weren't you the one who condemned this world to its doom? All because of your… pitiful pride?"
The duke's jaw ticked, his fingers tightening on the handle of his gleaming-red sword.
With a step forward, he deliberately crushed a lump of soil beneath his foot, as though it were a prelude to the impending doom, he held for her.
His armor was emitting a radiant glow, adorned with crimson runes resembling intricate tattoos gracing his sleeves and chest.
In truth, his armor concealed a formidable fusion of ancient magic and cutting-edge technology.
Forged from a rare and enigmatic metal that bore an uncanny resemblance to supple leather, this otherworldly exoskeleton seamlessly harnessed the elemental forces of mana-users, all while integrating the microscopic marvels of nanotechnology woven intricately into its metallic yet leather-like fabric.
This fusion allowed it to respond to the wearer's thoughts and adapt instantaneously to threats in real-time.
The attire was a privilege reserved exclusively for those of genuine power, revered as the 'Defenders' of mankind.
Yet, as destiny would have it, the one entrusted with the duty of safeguarding mankind now found himself poised to extinguish the life of one of his own kind.
Such hypocrisy, indeed!
"I'm left with no alternative," he muttered firmly, his lips forming a tense line, while he hoisted his sword at a diagonal angle. With both hands gripping the hilt, he adopted a combat stance.
Seeing this, her eyes grew more vacant and fatigued as she replied with graceful nonchalance, "Shall we conclude this, then? Death shall be the peace I've so longed for."
In that moment, his deep, ebony eyes briefly dimmed, seemingly veiled by an emotion that bore a semblance of sorrow… or remorse?
"Cease the chatter and complete the task!" Another resonant voice, belonging to a man resonated.
Only then, did they both noticed the crystalline sphere hovering by the duke's side.
It was a NanoComm, a communication device harnessing Mana-Tech, facilitating communication, video recording, and live broadcasts throughout HQ, Nex.
Ionia exhaled a weary sigh, surrendering to the inevitable with her eyes sealed shut.
Clang! Ching!
The sudden metallic clash of swords snapped her eyes open just in time to witness the duke retreat, putting some distance between them.
A new party had arrived, putting a halt to her impending death.
"You're not about to kick the bucket here, are you?" The intruder's words dripped with bitterness, directed at Ionia. "Especially after you promised me your life!"
The man's armor was somewhat similar to the duke's, except for the few metal plates over the chest area, metal gloves that looked like claws, giving him the appearance of a human-beast – an abyss Corroder.
"Go back. Now!" Ionia's command fell on deaf ears as the intruder ignored her, plunging headfirst into the ongoing battle.
[Stealth Skill – Activated]
In the blink of an eye, the Corroder dissipated from view, his presence concealed before re-emerging with uncanny swiftness behind the Defender.
Scarcely visible, the Corroder slashed forth.
The duke activated his Flash-step Skill, narrowly evading the attack by a mere hair's breadth.
Ching! Clank! Claannnnk!
In a matter of heartbeats, over twenty rapid blows were exchanged between the two adversaries, their prowess in both offense and defense evident.
The confrontation might've ended in a stalemate were it not for the duke's weariness stemming from his preceding fight in quelling her underlings.
"Draven, fall back!" The familiar baritone voice sounded once more from the NanoComm, but it was too late.
Kchh-chaannnnk!
With a resounding strike, fate sealed the outcome.
The Corroder had exploited the duke's fleeting lapse in footwork and plunged the obsidian black blade through his opponent's abdomen.
The duke, Draven, crumpled to his knees, blood escaping his lips, his gleaming sword discarded beside his leg.
"It's the end." A malevolent grin tugged at the Corroder's lips.
Ionia observed the unfolding scene with an unfazed gaze.
One of the strongest Defenders of all time had fallen. Humanity's seemingly last flicker of hope dimmed.
Seeking one final chance to stir her conscience if not her heart, Draven's voice wheezed painfully, "Ionia, how long will your indifference persist?"
The woman's vacant gaze descended upon him, brushing off his entreaties as if they were fleeting gusts of wind.
This was a world of the survival of the fittest, a place where the weak, like her, were shunned as societal pariahs.
"I'll offer anything! I'll be your loyal dog for eternity if it means halting this world's demise, I implore you."
"Tsk!" Slightly irked, the Corroder kicked Draven in the shoulder, brutally unsheathing his blade from his flesh. "Have you folks not caused enough harm? Spare the woman of your pathetic laments."
Draven lay defeated upon the ground, his breath strained, and the once gleaming armor now dimmed, proof of his waning lifeforce.
His brows furrowed, a flicker of regret tainting his eyes. His pitch-black gaze locked onto Ionia, as though attempting to peer into the depth of her soul.
Yet, all he found was an empty vessel, shattered by their heedless malevolence.
Just as he parted his lips once more, attempting to say something, the Corroder's blade swung. In a gruesome strike, Draven's head severed from his neck, extinguishing his life in an instant.
Crack! Craaaaccckkk!
A guttural roar echoed through the air as the ground cracked and quaked, a ruddy glow seeping from the fractures, announcing the second impact – the beginning to the second apocalypse.