The air on Raro Island thickened like clotting blood as Azalea's words hung over the assembled kings and hunters. Rain lashed the grand pavilion where moments before, the final duels of the Hunter's Tournament had pulsed with ceremonial violence. Now, only silence remained—a silence so profound it swallowed the crash of distant waves.
King Theron of Emberfall surged to his feet, his jeweled crown askew. "What are you saying?!" he roared, veins bulging at his temples. "Crimson is *unsealed*?!"
Azalea met his gaze, emerald eyes burning with ancient grief. A single nod.
*Who the hell is she?* Zaren's mind raced. Beside him, Finn and Jaxon—the two mightiest hunters he knew—had dropped to one knee, heads bowed as if before a wrathful goddess.
Zaren gripped Finn's shoulder. "Hey—who *is* that?"
"*Bow*, you fool," Finn hissed, not lifting his eyes. "That's Azalea. The Flare Princess. Crimson's sister."
Zaren froze. *Crimson's sister? The one who sealed him?*
***Lumis—scan her power.***
[Scanning... Power level exceeds known parameters. Estimated: 478% beyond host's current capacity.]
Zaren's blood turned to ice. *She's stronger than me? Than SSS+?*
***Is she Celestis-rank?***
[Unknown. Energy signature aligns with no recorded hierarchy. Recommend extreme caution.]
Azalea stepped forward, the rain sizzling into steam where it touched her glowing skin. Her gaze pinned Zaren like a spear. "You must be Zaren," she said, her voice echoing with the weight of centuries. "The new apex predator."
Zaren forced himself to stand tall, Red Eye simmering at the edge of his vision. "I am."
A ghost of curiosity flickered in Azalea's eyes. "Strange... I sense a shadow coiled within you. Like my brother's, yet... hungrier." She shook her head, green fire licking at her braided hair. "No time. Crimson walks free. If we do not unite, *every kingdom burns*."
Chaos erupted.
"WE'RE ALL GOING TO DIE!" a hunter screamed, clawing at his face.
"Silence!" bellowed King Alaric of Elyria, rising from his throne. "Princess—Elyria stands with you. My hunters are yours to command."
King Valerius of Velmora stood next, his face pale but resolute. "Velmora as well. I remember the histories—what Crimson did to the Five Celestis. We cannot face him fractured."
One by one, the kings rose—but their eyes gleamed with calculation. The oldest among them, King Orin of Stonehold, raised a gnarled hand.
"We pledge our hunters," he rasped, "on one condition: if any SSS+ hunter falls in this war, *you*, Azalea, take their place in that kingdom's service. A life for a life."
Murmurs of agreement rippled through the monarchs.
Azalea's laugh was a blade scraping bone. "You bargain while extinction looms? Power is *all* you crave—even now." She turned as if to leave. "Perish then, with your greed as your shroud."
King Orin lurched forward. "WAIT! No conditions! Just... tell us how to survive!"
Azalea paused, the green light around her pulsing like a heartbeat. "Listen closely. *All* hunters from every kingdom will converge on Emberfall. B-rank and above will hunt Crimson. The rest—E to C-rank—will evacuate every citizen from the kingdom. They are lambs in a slaughterhouse now."
King Theron choked. "Evacuate Emberfall? But the throne—my legacy—"
"Will be *ash* if Crimson finds it," Azalea snapped. "Your people first. Your pride last."
She turned to the ancient arbiter of the Gathering, who nodded grimly.
"Let it be recorded," the arbiter announced, his voice booming across the silent island. "The Grand Alliance is forged. All hunters depart for Emberfall at dawn. May the gods pity us all."
As the kings erupted into frantic orders, Zaren stared toward the storm-wracked horizon. Maria's hand found his, cold and trembling.
"So," she whispered, "this is the end?"
Zaren's crimson eyes ignited fully.
"No," he said, flames licking up his arms.
"This is where we become legends."
The real war had begun.
(Chapter 45 Fin)