Ludwig descended into the dome as though it were a mere inconvenience. His hand was still tucked into his pocket, the dull longsword dangling by his side. The chaos around him failed to stir even the slightest hint of emotion. His gaze swept methodically over the scene, resting only briefly on the group before his lips curled in a disappointed sigh—as if their failure had been an inevitability that bored him.
"An Azure, then. You must be Ludwig," Roland sneered, throwing a brief glance at him before chuckling. "Are you really planning to fight me in that condition?"
"No matter," Roland muttered, turning toward the grotesque wall where the bodies of the defeated had been pinned. But to his surprise, there were no bodies—only empty gates. And behind him, the other three stood silently, as if they had been waiting.
"I must apologize. I'm not the one fighting you," Ludwig said, his voice still as cold and indifferent as before.
In the span of three seconds, Roland could only catch a blur—a man, Rin, landing beside Ludwig. The next instant, a bandaged spear flew through the air, puncturing a hole in Roland's chest.
"What—?" Roland gasped, his body collapsing onto the putrid floor of the dome, an extension of the grotesque biomass he had created. He remained conscious, but his world was spinning, the bitter taste of irony flooding his mind.
"Just like that?" Roland's thoughts screamed as his life unraveled in a flash. He had faced countless battles, defied death so many times, but this? This abrupt, anticlimactic end? His laughter bubbled up, bitter and empty.
"So you're one of them?" He laughed, gasping, even as his body fought against its inevitable collapse.
"Ludwig, let's just leave," Rin muttered, pinching his nose. "This place smells like trash."
Ludwig stood unmoved, the tip of his longsword aimed at Roland's forehead. "Are we really just going to let a cataclysm live?"
Rin glanced down at Roland, disgust curling in his gaze. "Roland is the only cataclysm from the past ten to be immortal. Don't waste the effort."
With a snap of his fingers, a starlit gate opened before them. They walked through without hesitation, leaving the crumbling dome and Roland to rot in silence.
Roland, now alone, struggled to crawl away, his breaths ragged. "An Ancient Crucible?" He coughed, a cruel laugh rising despite the pain. "Even a reincarnation of those cosmic deities can't kill me!" His fingers scraped against the cold, putrid floor, but every inch he moved felt like an eternity.
"I can reconstruct my body, I—" His words cut off as he heard footsteps. He looked up, a shadow looming over him. Slowly, a figure emerged—Yurina, gravely injured, blood dripping from her face. Her arm was missing, the wound crudely cauterized, and she clutched a remote in her uninjured hand.
"Y-Yurina?" Roland gasped, his voice breaking. He pushed himself back, but it was no use. His body was too weak, too drained.
"Is this... is this the limit of my body?" he thought, panic rising. His limbs had turned to lead, and his attempts to move were futile. All he could do was watch as Yurina approached, her footsteps heavy and slow.
"I give up," she said, her voice tinged with the quiet resignation of someone who had long known this moment would come. "You're right, Roland." She wiped the blood from her face, smiling sadly. "I will never reach that solace."
Her steps grew firmer, closer. "But I'll make sure this lab is your own hell."
Before Roland could react, she pressed the switch. The lab—and the entire island—was consumed in a devastating explosion. The shockwave sent glass shattering from buildings miles away. The earth itself seemed to tremble in the wake of the blast, leaving nothing but ruin in its wake.