Chapter 30: The Breaking of the Mask
The moonlit peace of the balcony shattered in an instant.
R56’s eyes snapped wide, the lazy boredom of a veteran Ranger vanishing as his internal sensors screamed.
"DUCK!"
He didn't wait for a response, throwing his weight against Oralia and forcing them both into a frantic crouch.
A split-second later, a crescent of pure white light—sharp enough to sever the atoms of the air—sliced through the stone railing,
shearing off a few stray hairs from the back of R56’s head.
Hovering against the massive, silver disc of the moon was a silhouette of jagged violence. Miyeru looked down at them, her purple eyes glowing with a lethal,
concentrated hunger.
The shockwave from the slash didn't just ruin the balcony; it rippled through the palace foundations.
Stone groaned and masonry crumbled as the ballroom inside erupted into a symphony of screams and panicked footsteps.
R56 bit his tongue, tasting copper as he glared at the sky.
"Tch. This persistent bastard..."
"Found you, filthy Rangers," Miyeru hissed, her voice carrying across the wind like a funeral bell.
"I’ll end you before anyone else has the chance to interfere."
Oralia stared at the figure on the moon, her breath hitching. As a Saintess, she knew the limits of divine power—and this girl was beyond them.
If every god of Genova stood together, they would be nothing more than dust against that purple light.
R56 stood up, his movements fluid and sharp. As he rose, his fancy medieval doublet flickered and dissolved, replaced instantly by his crisp, standard-issue Ranger suit.
He tightened his necktie, his expression cold.
"You did exactly as we predicted," he said toward the moon.
"The R300s are really coming, aren't they?"
Miyeru didn't flinch.
"Yeah. But you won't be alive to see them."
[Inside the Ballroom]
Dust and screams filled the air. Crown Prince Derrick sprinted toward the corner where the attack had hit hardest—the exact spot where he had left Liora and R98.
He found only a mountain of shattered marble and broken beams.
"LIORA!"
He clawed at the debris, his royal magic and bare hands tearing at the stone until his fingers were slick with his own blood.
He heaved a final, massive slab aside and froze.
Beneath the wreckage, R98 was hunched over, his body acting as a living shield for Liora.
His arms were twisted at unnatural, sickening angles, and a jagged iron rod from the structure had impaled him through the back, the tip protruding from his stomach.
"Liora... are you alright?" Derrick gasped, reaching for his sister.
Liora stood up, her breath coming in ragged hitches, her gown ruined but her body unharmed.
"Yes, Brother... but he... he—" Her finger trembled as she pointed at the man still kneeling in the dust.
R98’s hair shrouded his face as he slowly, agonizingly, forced himself to his feet.
"Are you... alright, sir?" Liora asked, her voice shaking with a terror she couldn't name.
R98 let out a low, dry chuckle.
The "Alien God" mask didn't just slip—it dissolved. He looked at her with a weary, ordinary smile.
"It’s R98. My name... it's just R98."
"R98?" Liora repeated softly.
R98 laughed then—not a divine laugh, but the tired, cynical laugh of an office worker who had seen too much overtime.
He finally let her see the self he had hidden from everyone in Genova.
"Yes. It was nice meeting all of you. Truly."
Derrick starred, his horror growing as he watched R98 casually grip the iron rod in his stomach.
"Your eyes..." Derrick whispered, his voice trembling.
"They’re shaking. You feel every ounce of this, don't you? You aren't a god... you aren't immune to pain at all."
R98 took a sharp, surprised breath, looking at the Prince with genuine respect.
"I’m impressed you noticed. You really would have been a great king, Derrick."
With a sickening squelch, R98 pulled the iron rod out of his body and tossed it aside.
He turned his gaze toward the balcony, toward the purple light in the sky.
"But sadly...,R98 whispered,
"....our journey ends here."
To be continued...
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