Chapter 474: Reverse the Fate

Alice glanced at Azrynn’s bleeding side, then stepped forward, void energy already coiling around her fingers.

"Looks like you’re having trouble, Az. I’ll help you."

Azrynn didn’t answer right away. She pressed two fingers against the runes on her palm, and a soft green light pulsed from her hand. The gash across her ribs hissed, flesh knitting together with painful slowness. She exhaled sharply through her teeth, then looked up at Alice with sharp eyes.

"Just support me from behind," she said. "I’ll make an opening."

Alice tilted her head, a faint smirk tugging at her lips.

"Confident. I like it."

Azrynn moved first. She darted forward, low and fast, her remaining dagger held in a reverse grip. The Javelin Squad braced, weapons raised, but she didn’t go for them. Instead, she carved a wide arc through the air with her blade, and a trail of green rune-light followed in its wake.

At the same moment, Alice raised her hand. Void energy compressed in her palm, swirling tighter and tighter until it formed a small, dense sphere of shimmering black light. She flicked her wrist, and the sphere shot forward like a bullet.

Gladin saw it coming. He swung his axe in a brutal, wide arc, the flat of the blade catching the projectile dead-on.

The impact detonated in a burst of void energy, but Gladin’s axe held. He let out a rough laugh, steam curling off his shoulders.

"That all you got? Your attacks are nothing!"

He didn’t see Azrynn.

She had moved the moment Alice’s projectile left her hand. While Gladin’s attention was locked on the blast, Azrynn had circled wide, silent as a shadow. She appeared beside him in a blur of green light, her dagger already swinging.

One clean cut.

Gladin’s head separated from his shoulders in a spray of crimson. His massive body stood upright for a heartbeat, then crumpled forward, the axe slipping from his fingers and clattering against the shattered stone. His helmet bounced once, twice, then rolled to a stop at Jeny’s feet.

Jeny stood frozen.

Her visor tilted downward, staring at the helmet resting against her boots. For a moment, she didn’t move. The shock was still settling in when a soft sound whispered behind her.

She turned too late.

The black kitten’s head materialized from the shadows, its jaws wide open. It clamped down on her torso from behind, its void energy biting through armor and flesh alike.

Jeny let out a choked gasp. Her spear fell from her fingers. Her body split cleanly in two at the waist, the severed halves collapsing onto the blood-soaked stone.

Wincent stood a few paces away, the God Hand still raised, its crimson veins pulsing faintly. He stared at the bodies of his allies and he let out a long, slow sigh.

"Unbelievable," he muttered. "I thought they were strong. Turns out they were just trash."

He flexed the God Hand, steam hissing from its joints. His eyes lifted slowly, sweeping from Alice to Azrynn, then settling on Ignis, who was still on one knee, struggling to stabilize her flames.

"Looks like I’ll have to do everything myself."

Behind them, Giorno stood frozen among the rubble. His eyes were wide, his face pale.

"Wha... what is this?" His voice was hoarse, barely audible. "How... how did this happen so fast?"

He stared at the remains of the Javelin Squad he had bragged about, now torn apart in seconds.

Alice turned her gaze toward Wincent. Her lips curved into a thin, satisfied smile like a cat that had just won a fight.

"You won’t run this time, weird-hand," she said, her voice light but sharp.

Vincent stared at him for a moment, then smiled. It was a small, quiet smile, like a man who had just heard a not-so-funny joke.

"Run?" He shook his head slowly. "No, no. I won’t run. Especially not when my business here isn’t finished."

He raised his God Hand and an aura began to form around him, thick and heavy, pressing down on the air itself.

"I’ll show you," he said quietly, "that my title isn’t just for show."

Azrynn spun her daggers once, the green runes along their edges catching the crimson light of the dying magic circle. She stepped forward, her body low and coiled.

"Then prove it," she said. "If you really deserve that title."

She moved before the last word left her lips.

Her body blurred across the ruined plaza, closing the distance in an instant. Her right dagger swept toward Wincent’s throat, a killing strike meant to end the fight before he could gather any more power.

But what Azrynn doesn’t know is that Wincent is ready to use his powers and is waiting to be unleashed.

The air around him shifted. A faint ripple spread outward from the God Hand, invisible but unmistakable. The ground cracked. The debris lifted an inch off the stone, then settled again. The pressure in the air thickened, pressing down on everything within a dozen paces.

Azrynn’s dagger stopped an inch from his neck.

Her eyes widened. Her arm trembled. She tried to push forward, but her body wouldn’t obey. It felt like the air itself had turned solid, like the entire world was pressing down on her from every direction.

Wincent tilted his head slowly, watching her struggle with mild curiosity.

"You were saying something about proving myself?"

He raised the God Hand, the fingers spread wide. The crimson veins along its surface pulsed with a steady rhythm. The air around him warped and shimmered, bending toward the arm as if drawn by gravity.

"I told you," he said. "This domain bends to my will. But my real power..."

He closed his hand into a fist.

"...is to control the mana around me. Everything within my reach answers to me."

And then, every scattered fragment, every last trace of power, began to converge upon Wincent. They flowed into him from all directions, sealing his wounds, knitting his torn flesh back together, regenerating what had been broken beyond repair. His body, once teetering on the edge of ruin, was being reborn.

Then, a white aura erupted from within him, wrapping around his entire being like a cocoon of pure, blinding light. The final stage of his preparation was complete.

He opened his eyes.

In that moment, his hands no longer belonged to a mere human they now held the power to reverse the very fate of the battle itself.