Chapter 42: Student Council War 8
Smoke curled from the broken hills as if the world itself was exhaling after holding its breath too long. The field was scorched, pocked with collapsed trenches, shattered spells, and the bodies of the fallen. Here and there, flickers of unstable magic danced across the debris like dying stars.
But the war wasn’t over.
Far from it.
The survivors of both Crimson Dawn and Galat stood on opposite ends of the valley, bloodied but unyielding, the aftermath of the Phoenix’s havoc weighing on every soul. The ground trembled not with flame this time, but with anticipation.
Ashen Crimson stepped forward from his side, wrapped in new shadows laced with faint embers. His very presence rippled across the field like a storm ready to break.
"I’ve given you all enough time to breathe," he said, voice clear and cutting through the air like a blade. "But breath doesn’t win battles. Precision does. Loyalty does. Formation does."
Crimson Dawn tightened, ready.
"This ends today."
He raised one hand. The shadows behind him shifted, stretching outward like wings. The mark of the Phoenix glowed faintly beneath his collarbone.
"One target per warrior. One-on-one. No chaos. No interference. This will not be a mob. It will be a purge."
He looked straight across the field.