Erina stood at the end of the corridor. The dark red halls gave way to true nothingness. Her light illuminated nothing because there was nothing to illuminate. She cautiously felt the floor with her foot. The hall simply ended here where it once exited into the cityscape of Akira's memories, with nothing but nothing left ahead of her.

  Erina formed a small Menger sponge and tossed it over the edge. It tumbled far, far away, descending ever deeper until she could no longer see its distant tiny light.

  Erina shuffled her foot an inch closer to the ledge. It called to her. The mixed urge to jump and the survival instinct to back away churned in her gut.

  "I see," she murmured.

  She knew this void.

  This wasn't the first time she was about to set foot in it.

  This wasn't just an absence of existence. This was the timeless abyss. Erina stood on the threshold of what existed before all things, and what would continue to exist when all things were dust in a silent, dark universe where every star had burnt out. There was no before or after. This was simply the end.

  This was the true nature of the world she had crossed into. Lazarus built the gate at the heart of the laboratory with the purpose of reaching this place—this concept.

  This was the origin of that man's power. The embodiment of what he tapped into.

  Erina let all of the breath leave her lungs. She leaned forward, the world tilting under her, and then she fell.

  And she fell.

  And she fell…

  was dedicated to a vast, lavish hall with a panoramic view over the city. Elegantly carved pillars lined the walls. A large circular meeting table shaped like a giant ring dominated the center of the room. A domed skylight allowed the sun to shine upon them. Office chairs sat neatly lined up along one wall, their occupants no longer attending.

  Suspended by pneumatics and thick cables hung an immense screen, providing the table members a view to the other side. Several workers stood in a vast space resembling the interior of a traditional Japanese temple. Despite the walls and flooring, gargantuan machines and moving parts filled the middle of the room, whirring and chugging loudly behind them. An ambient fog occluded everything, obscuring the walls and casting the mechanisms in a soft otherworldly light.

  "The parts salvaged from the laboratory have been analyzed," reported the leader of the operations—a dark-haired man dressed in white, red, and black robes akin to an onmyoji. "Integration tests are running smoothly. We've unblocked the pipeline and refreshed the preservation fluids. It will be ready soon."

  "Can you give us an estimate, Watanabe-san?" Darius sat opposite the screen in the tall throne designed for the famed ace of the Association. A huge collection of swords surrounded it, blades of innumerable make and design on proud display. Their blades flared out at his back in a ring, with even more stabbed down in a small field of blades around the throne.

  Watanabe turned away and raised his arm, offering a perch for the falcon that flew down from the upper innards of the machinery. The faint white trail in its wake and the glow in its eyes gave away its status as a shikigami. The other workers gathered with them and engaged in a quiet, quick discussion among themselves.

  Watanabe reported back, "Three days, sir."

  "All parts in place? Any signs of decay?"

  "Organics are holding out. Stress tests indicate their wear is as expected. We're only missing the core now."

  "Love it or hate it," muttered Darius, "guess Lazarus was the way to go after all."

  The laboratory wasn't at all like he remembered. He wrecked it seven years ago, demolished what remained one year ago, and left it a rotting husk drowning in primordial mana. But now that ocean had receded, and repairs and working power were the last things he expected. They'd gone in expecting to rummage up scraps that would need months more research to make anything workable, but all of a sudden, their timeline was moving along faster than he could've imagined.

  He said aloud, "Asayuki, anything to add?"

  "Nothing." Asayuki sat halfway between the screen and the throne on a plain white plastic lawn chair, immersed in her work. Inkpots and several brushes rested at her side as she finished inscribing another talisman and set it aside to dry while she started on the next one. A stack of ofuda sat to her left.

  He nodded. "Watanabe-san, before you go—Fujiwara is there as well, right?"

  "I'm here." A pink-haired woman entered the frame, dressed in white tactical gear and with a faint but distinct scowl on her face.

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  She and Darius exchanged a meaningful look. Fujiwara turned and dismissed the other workers. Only Watanabe and herself remained on the call.

  "The changes you requested were implemented," she droned. "We've run the simulations and the time to completion will be about two hours. You need it to occur at sundown, correct?"

  "When the barrier is weakest, yes," said Darius. "So we'll need to set it off two hours before then… Got it. And the sealing spell projection?"

  "All green," said Fujiwara.

  "That's a relief. By the way…" Darius cleared his throat and grinned. "Haruka-chan, why don't you smile a little more? A maiden's smile is all the reward—"

  He cut himself off. Asayuki had looked up from her work. The glare coming his way was so sharp he could almost feel his cheek starting to bleed under the pressure.

  Fujiwara visibly held back a laugh. "You were saying?"

  Darius cleared his throat. "Right. Thank you. Alert us if anything happens."

  "Sir."

  The feed cut and the screen retracted into the ceiling.

  Darius immediately got off the throne and stretched. The less time he had to spend in that stuffy uncomfortable thing, the better.

  "Stop doing that," grumbled Asayuki.

  "Doing what?"

  "…I'll give you one chance." Asayuki's hand had stopped moving over the paper for a while now. "Have you been watching cowboy movies again?"

  "…What happens if I say yes?"

  "When?"

  "Last night."

  "Last night? I must've slept through it," she muttered. Aloud, "Did you copy a line from it just now?"

  He squirmed on the spot. "…Yes," he admitted quietly. "I wanted to see how it felt to say. It did feel kinda cool, didn't it?"

  Asayuki blew out a breath and resumed writing. Her sword remained propped up in its scabbard beside her, undrawn.

  "Well, all that aside!" said Darius loudly. "Sounds like everything's ahead of schedule! Isn't that good news?"

  "It's expected," said Asayuki.

  The deep snap of distorting space made her brush pause.

  "Really?" she said. "You couldn't walk around the table for it?"

  Black lightning fading from his arms, Darius set down Julian's office chair beside her and took it as his own. "It's an option," he shrugged, "might as well."

  A bemused smile crossed Asayuki's face as she got back to inscribing. "Some Horseman of the Apocalypse you are."

  "Not my title. I don't call myself that."

  "Oh? Then what do you go by?"

  "What else?" Darius drew his gun in the blink of an eye, twirling it around his finger with a satisfied grin. "Fastest in the West."

  "You're the fastest in something, that's for sure," she muttered under her breath.

  "For the last time!" The office chair rolled across the porcelain floor as Darius got to his feet, pacing away and throwing his hands in the air. "Please stop bringing that up."

  "No, I don't think I will," chuckled Asayuki. "And you're not even from the West."

  "Scotland's close enough."

  "They're an ocean apart. Next you'll tell me Japan is in the Middle East?"

  "I mean, depending on where you define 'middle' to begin with…" Darius took a moment to adjust his hat. "That aside, any luck finding Orochi down there?"

  "Changing the subject is admitting defeat." Asayuki leaned back and made sure he saw the grin on her face before she got back to work. "It'll sort itself out. It won't take much longer."

  "Care to fill me in?"

  "It's a surprise." Asayuki frowned as a pair of arms wrapped around her from behind. "Not now. We're in the office."

  "And?" Darius rested his head on hers, leaning over to peer at her inscriptions. "Nobody's around."

  "Not. Now."

  "Fine, fine." He teleported the chair back over and sat beside her. "Are you sure you don't want a better chair?"

  "If it works, it works. It doesn't need to be comfy."

  "But you wouldn't object if it was."

  "This coming from the guy in the throne."

  "I would know, it's a literal pain in my behind."

  Asayuki paused. He was leaning on her. She ignored it and said, "Then why don't you get a better chair?"

  "Bad optics for the guy on top to leave the throne empty," said Darius. "That's what Julian keeps telling me. Where is he, for that matter? Blinked off the map a few hours ago."

  "Beats me," she muttered. "He'll show up again at the worst time, for sure."

  "Can't wait to read his report."

  They exchanged a knowing look. Julian's writing was about as compelling as watching paint dry.

  "That should be enough." Asayuki put her brushes away and gathered up her finished talismans. She tossed them into the air, but the ofuda didn't scatter. They remained adhered to one another, red light glowing to life along the edges between them as they launched into a tall, thin column. A single seamless length of paper formed. Asayuki pulled it back down, folded it up, and slotted it into the empty pouch at her thigh.

  "…Hey, Saya." Darius settled into his seat, staring out over the city.

  She perked up at the sound of her given name. He didn't usually call her that on work hours.

  "So we're really doing this," he said.

  "Having second thoughts? This late in the game?"

  "I am. There's really going to be no turning back."

  "There won't," she agreed. "But one problem at a time. I'll live each day as it comes. We'll find a way to see it through." Asayuki sent a brief smile his way. "That's what you always told me."

  He laid his arm over her shoulder and tugged her a bit closer.

  "How is your mother?" asked Asayuki.

  She felt him tense up. "I'm sure she's fine. News would come around if anything happened."

  "You know I don't just mean that. I'm starting to realize… have you ever called her?"

  His silence was answer enough.

  "Darius."

  "I don't see the need." His voice had taken on a harder edge.

  "She's your family," said Asayuki. "Your only family."

  "You're right here," he muttered.

  "You're only going to have so many chances. You should really call." She pointedly added, "While you still can—"

  "I know!" He hastily repeated, more quietly, "I know."

  He wouldn't meet her eye. She could tell he was trying to convince himself more than her.

  "I don't… know what I'd say," he finally admitted. "It's been years. We hardly know each other."

  "Then I'll speak with you," said Asayuki. "I know all the things I would want to say in your position. Not to mention, I'm interested in meeting your mother. Not the High Magus, your mother."

  He had to give a double take. But gradually, Darius deflated and gave in. "Alright, you win."

  Asayuki nodded in satisfaction. "Now, then. Don't you have work to do? Meetings to attend?"

  "In ten minutes, sure. I'll tell them I was accosted again. Happens enough that nobody bats an eye anymore."

  "This is why Fujiwara is always on your case. You are unbelievable." Asayuki rolled her shoulders and got comfortable. "But I can't say I hate that."

  They settled into a quiet, comfortable silence in the high office—a rare moment of tranquility for the two of them. They didn't know whether it'd be the last chance they'd have in a long time.