Wrath moved like lightning.
His twin blades flashed forward in a cross-shaped strike, the wind behind his movements sharp enough to slice skin. He didn't leap — he launched, closing the distance between himself and Hohenheim in half a breath.
But Hohenheim didn't flinch.
He pivoted just before impact, transmuting a crescent wall of stone upward. The blades carved through it like parchment — but Hohenheim was already behind Wrath, hand striking the ground.
The stone erupted into spears, forcing Wrath to roll sideways with a snarl.
"Still quick," Hohenheim muttered, circling.
Wrath smiled thinly. "Still slow."
Across the chamber, Pride's shadows bloomed.
Alphonse swung his arm down, deflecting a tendril that tried to slip beneath his guard. Each lash from Pride's shapeless form whispered forgotten doubts, brushing past his helmet like venom.
"You'll never get your body back," Pride said.
"I don't need it to protect them," Alphonse answered, slamming his fist into the floor.
A wave of transmuted iron rose around him like armor. Pride retreated into shadow — only to reappear behind Edward.
"Did you ever really believe in your brother's promise?" he whispered.
Edward spun and fired a burst of alchemy at his feet, forcing Pride to dissolve mid-sentence. "Every second of my life," he hissed.
Greed fought Envy alone.
The creature had grown taller — serpentine muscles layered in bile-green armor, with claws like bone hooks and a grin stretching wider than any face should allow.
"Ugly as ever," Greed said, hardening his arm into obsidian.
"Still pretending to be human?" Envy spat. "You're just hunger in a suit."
Greed didn't answer. He just drove his fist into Envy's chest.
It landed with a crack — but Envy flowed around it, jaws opening behind his shoulder, biting down.
Greed roared, grabbed the mouth, and ripped it off with one hand.
"You want to know what I am?" he growled, eyes glowing.
"I'm choice. Something you never had."
Back at the circle's heart, Hohenheim and Wrath clashed again.
Wrath's sword came in low — a sweep meant to sever tendons. Hohenheim barely parried, sparks bursting between their weapons.
"I remember you," Wrath said. "You ran."
"I waited," Hohenheim corrected. "Because I wasn't strong enough."
He ducked a vertical slash, slapped both hands to the floor — and the ground beneath Wrath became molten.
The Homunculus leapt clear, landing behind Hohenheim. He stabbed.
Blood bloomed from Hohenheim's side.
He winced — but did not fall.
Instead, he gripped Wrath's wrist and channeled a transmutation directly into him.
The blade in Wrath's hand cracked. His arm convulsed.
"You're… not supposed to touch me," Wrath snarled.
"Then consider this a parting gift," Hohenheim whispered.
He twisted.
And Wrath's blade arm turned to dust
Pride struck again.
His shadows coiled around Edward's legs, pulling tight.
But Alphonse charged in, barreling through the bindings with a roar. His armored shoulder collided with Pride, slamming him into the ritual's edge.
Light sparked across the glyphs.
The Shadow watching from inside Father stirred.
Above, in the fractured void, Aeon moved through ruins built from memory.
The Shadow lunged — its blade a shifting weapon, part spear, part scythe, glowing with the echo of abandoned emotion. Aeon barely deflected the first strike. Sparks hissed in the hollow air as metal scraped against soul-bound steel.
Aeon rolled sideways, boots skidding over fractured glass shaped like childhood lullabies. He came up hard, slashing upward — the arc clean, fast. The Shadow parried, spun, and sent a kick into Aeon's ribs.
The impact cracked the illusion beneath them. A memory burst open — a cratered battlefield. Screams. Smoke. A girl's body draped in torn fabric.
Aeon hesitated—
—and the Shadow struck again, cleaving a ragged gash through his shoulder.
"You hesitate because you still believe they would have lived without you," it spat.
Aeon gritted his teeth, retaliating with a flurry of horizontal slashes. Each cut shimmered with divine energy, slicing through the air like thunderclaps. The Shadow dodged, but the third caught its thigh — blue-black ichor burst from the wound.
"I hesitate because I still feel," Aeon said.
He pressed forward. A low sweep followed by a rising elbow — the Shadow blocked, twisted, and reversed the motion into a brutal backhand that cracked Aeon's jaw.
Aeon staggered. His blade dropped slightly.
Then he smiled through blood.
And surged forward.
Their blades met in a fury of flashes, no words now — just motion. Aeon ducked, pivoted, stabbed forward. The Shadow deflected, twisted around, struck at his ribs. Aeon turned into it and shoulder-checked it hard, sending both spinning across the empty expanse.
They landed in a burning forest — one of Aeon's own memories.
The fire roared around them.
The Shadow whispered, "Do you remember what you burned to become free?"
Aeon didn't answer.
Instead, he leapt.
His blade came down like a judgment, carving through branches of flame, colliding with the Shadow's guard and driving it into the ground.
The void cracked.
The flames blew outward.
Aeon rose, panting.
His coat was torn. One eye swollen. His ribs ached with every breath.
But his stance was firm.
The Shadow pulled itself up slowly, its body flickering. Its grin was gone.
"You're adapting," it said.
"I've always known how to fight," Aeon replied. "What I forgot—was why."
The Shadow lunged one final time—
—and Aeon stepped into the swing, parried low, and drove his elbow into the Shadow's throat.
He spun, blade reversed, and struck with a downward slash that split the illusion of the sky.
The Shadow gasped.
And for the first time—stepped back.
Back in the real world, Father screamed.
Black veins spidered up his arms as the Shadow spread further inside him.
"No," he choked. "This was my design. My perfection!"
His body jerked — half his face now obscured in darkness.
And in that moment, Lust turned her eyes to Edward.
"You see what you could become?" she hissed. "Obsession. Hunger. Legacy."
"Then I'll burn that legacy down," Edward shouted.
He drew a massive transmutation circle midair — a flash of blue light seared across the space.
Lust caught the blast, and her body snapped backwards, breaking into light and ash.
Wrath charged Hohenheim one last time.
Swordless. Bleeding.
But unafraid.
Hohenheim stepped into the blow — not to dodge.
But to embrace it.
His arms locked around Wrath's torso.
And he whispered, "You were made from my mistake. Let me end it."
Wrath stabbed — a dagger now in hand.
It plunged deep into Hohenheim's chest.
But the light from Hohenheim's body surged.
Golden.
Blinding.
And Wrath disintegrated between heartbeats.
Edward and Alphonse caught their father as he fell.
His blood was warm.
His breath shallow.
"I bought us time," he murmured.
"That's all I wanted."
His hand brushed Edward's cheek.
"I'm proud of you."
Then the light within him went still.
Aeon stood in the void, chest rising with ragged breath.
The Shadow stared at him, no longer smiling.
"Still afraid?" it asked.
Aeon nodded. "Yes."
"But I'm still here."
The Shadow paused.
And for the first time — hesitated.
Then it stepped back.
Vanishing into the fog.
The void trembled.
And Aeon fell back toward the world