CLEAVER OF SIN

As destruction laid waste and ran amok throughout the Separate Dimension, people stopped in stunned silence, their faces frozen in disbelief. The residents of the Separate Dimension, as well as the students of the Star Academy who resided within its boundaries, stood motionless. One moment, life was moving along as usual, ordinary conversations, laughter, trading, studying, then suddenly, without the slightest warning, a golden-orange solar energy burst across the space like a second sun, and apocalypse descended upon them.

As if that single eruption was not terrifying enough, a nebula took shape in the vast expanse of the sky, shimmering in incomprehensible majesty. Gravity itself multiplied, slamming down upon the shoulders of the people as though mountains had fallen upon their backs. Bones creaked, knees buckled, and hearts raced under the unbearable weight.

But again, as though fate had decided cruelty was not yet complete, their eyes were forced to behold golden-orange sword lines cleaving through the atmosphere. These sword strikes were beautiful, so beautiful that they seemed to surpass the limits of artistry itself. They were graceful, mesmerizing like heavenly dances, yet at the same time chilling, dreadful, and utterly deadly.

With immaculate ease, those radiant sword lines shredded buildings, forests, and entire landscapes into their lowest, most broken forms, stripping the Separate Dimension bare with insulting indifference.

The people stood stranded amidst ruin, staring with wide, empty eyes. Their houses had collapsed into rubble and dust; monuments of peace and culture lay in ruins. Children cried, their tears flowing like rivers from shattered dams, piercing the hearts of those who could still feel. Injuries appeared one after the other upon countless bodies, blood marking the land, though miraculously none seemed instantly fatal.

It was as if the twin heralds of destruction, the ones responsible for this calamity, had deliberately restrained themselves from slaughtering the innocent, holding back their true strength so as not to erase lives in passing.

Soon, the crushing pressure and suffocating dread that had blanketed every soul began to vanish, dissipating into the atmosphere. Slowly, hesitantly, the people rose to their feet, their bodies still trembling under the lingering echoes of fear. Some wiped blood, sweat, and dirt from their faces. Others clutched at their chests, their breaths ragged. Many released sighs of relief, believing, if only for a fleeting moment, that they had somehow survived a major disaster, even if they did not yet comprehend the cause or the intent behind it.

But just as relief dared to spread across trembling hearts, another calamity emerged.

The destruction of forests, mountains, and water bodies had awakened those who had long lurked beneath, the non-human denizens of this world. From the shadows and from the ruins, monsters, savage beasts, and the dreadful race known as the Emovirae lifted their heads. Their eyes gleamed with primal hunger, their intent sharp, palpable, and colder than death itself. They needed no words, no hesitation. With the collapse of their habitats, they surged forth like floods released from dark occultic gates, charging toward humanity.

Yet monsters and Emovirae were not the only ones unchained. With prisons shattered and seals broken, human criminals, murderers, thieves, and the deranged, emerged from their cells. Madness burned in their eyes, hunger and hatred twisting their expressions into grotesque masks. Without sparing a thought or a word, they pounced upon the nearest victims, eager to drown in carnage.

And with that, the real apocalypse began.

A stampede erupted. The ground quaked as countless feet thundered across it. Those who had not awakened their powers, or who could not, fled in panic, screaming for their lives. The awakened but weak fought desperately against enemies of their level, clawing for survival. Against anything stronger, they had no choice but to flee, abandoning pride and reason alike.

Screams tore through the air like lightning splitting clouds. The sound of flesh ripping echoed unendingly, followed by the splattering of blood upon stones, soil, and shattered walls. Bodies fell like flies in midsummer, their lives ended mercilessly as monsters, Emovirae, and criminals alike rampaged with sickening brutality.

Terrifying screeches, shrieks, and guttural roars, sounds alien to humanity, echoed endlessly, as though the monsters and Emovirae rejoiced at the chance to finally stand triumphant over mankind. For a moment, it seemed as though the tide of destruction would never cease.

But the tide did not remain one-sided for long.

The Knights and guards of the Separate Dimension responded with trained precision, their discipline forged for moments such as this. Their auras thundered toward the sky, shaking the air with sheer force. Waves of Astra pulsed outward, washing over the battlefield like invisible storms. Figures blurred as they shot into motion, streaking across the sky with speeds that mortal eyes could not follow. Abilities blossomed like constellations of destruction, illuminating the darkened land.

Instantly, the massacre found balance. Humanity, though pressed and bloodied, refused to bend its knee. With their defenders stepping forward, the prey bared its fangs.

A battle erupted, heavy, bloody, and savage.

Weapons clashed with such ferocity that the air itself seemed to rupture. The echoes of those collisions detonated ceaselessly, each one a thunderclap, each one strong enough to rupture eardrums. Blood sprayed high, guts and limbs were torn free, and the once-solid ground was transformed into an ocean of corpses and gore.

The authorities of the Separate Dimension did not fight alone. Some worked tirelessly to rescue residents, moving them with blistering speed to safer locations. Those gifted with healing abilities threw themselves into the chaos, weaving skill and techniques to mend torn flesh, stem blood loss, and rekindle fainting hearts. Above, battles between high-ranked human warriors and monstrous Emovirae raged with devastation that split the very sky apart.

The Separate Dimension, once famed for peace, stability, and safety, had been overturned, ripped into chaos after a single strike from Malrik Wargrave.

But did the First Sun care? Absolutely not.

To him, the lives spared were spared intentionally. He had not killed a single innocent nor even a single monster. His will was cold and absolute: whoever survived was meant to survive, and whoever perished was irrelevant to him as he wasn't their killer.

The Knights and guards of the Separate Dimension understood this truth instinctively. They did not seek to capture criminals alive. Their blades, spears, and fists carried but one simple directive: kill.

And kill they did.

Explosions reverberated across the realm. Tremors tore through the land, trees toppled, ravines split, and yawning chasms widened endlessly. Abilities and techniques twisted and reshaped the very landscape as though gods had descended to battle upon the earth.

Not all defenders were spared. Many Knights and guards were ripped apart by claws, fangs, and abilities too strong for their armor to withstand. Their deaths were brutal, their screams short, but others with healing powers rushed in, desperately patching wounds and reviving those on the verge of death, doing everything within their strength to keep the battle from collapsing.

The residents trembled in absolute terror. Never in all their time within the Separate Dimension had they witnessed anything like this. Yes, from time to time a criminal would stir trouble, but such individuals were swiftly subdued, imprisoned, and forgotten by the authorities. But this, this was different.

To them, this was the end of the world. To them, there was no promise of survival. To them, the lives they had once considered peaceful and secure had been torn away, uprooted, and reduced to ash in the span of mere moments.

And as they stood in the midst of fire, ruin, and slaughter, they could not help but realize that their Separate Dimension, the sanctuary they had long cherished, had become the very stage of apocalypse.