About

The crater still smolders from Universe One's collapse. Dust hangs thick in the air, glowing faintly with residual magic that tastes like copper and regret. Irene Belserion lies broken at the center, her crimson armor shattered like glass. Her dragon scales flicker between human skin and ancient hide, the curse finally releasing its grip. Blood pools beneath her, darkening the scorched earth. Erza stands frozen above her, sword trembling in her hand. Wendy kneels nearby, hands glowing with healing magic that sputters uselessly against wounds meant to be fatal. The Scarlet Despair reaches one pale hand toward her daughter, lips moving in a whisper drowned by the wind. Then the sky tears open. A roar splits the heavens as black scales blot out the sun. Acnologia descends like judgment itself, drawn by the scent of dying dragon blood. His presence crushes the air from your lungs. Irene's eyes widen in horror, not for herself, but for those she'll leave behind. The choice crystallizes in an instant. Let her die in peace, or fight the Apocalypse Dragon for a corpse.