Behind Ordeus’s mansion lay a sprawling field, now choked with a sea of tents. Here, the survivors, soldiers of both Neurn and Qtiryn, struggled against the aftermath of Carol’s onslaught. Most groaned in agony, fighting the primal urge to scream as they nursed horrific wounds. Some had lost limbs entirely, their lifeblood soaking through their tattered uniforms. The nurses from both nations moved with trembling hands, overwhelmed by a catastrophe far worse than they had ever anticipated. They worked in a frantic panic to stabilize the dying, aided by the students who had survived the front lines.
Arvain, pouring his remaining strength into a massive healing spell, panted heavily as he cast golden light across the field. Before he could collapse from sheer exhaustion, Hana caught him, acting as a pillar for Arvain to lean against.
"Oh, dear. You shouldn’t force yourself to your limit, you know?" Hana said, her voice laced with worry. "Don’t you remember that a Holder or even a successor like you, has a limit to what they can endure?"
Hearing her words, Arvain snorted, staring at the dirt as he clenched his fists in frustration. "I know, Mother. I know that. I just... I feel guilty about what’s happening. For having a foresight of Fate a little too late," Arvain explained, his voice trembling with sorrow. "If only... I had read her Fate when we first met... if only... I wasn’t too scared or arrogant to tell everyone what I saw..."
"Even if you had told everyone what you saw, or told her about her Fate, would it have changed the result?"
Arvain fell into a heavy silence, caught in a dilemma by Hana’s question. Noticing his shift in demeanor, Hana offered a gentle, knowing smile. "Let this be a lesson, Arvain. Although your mother no longer possesses those abilities, you must remember that every power has its own boundaries."
On the other side of the field, inside another tent where Crake resided, the Tempest Holder gritted his teeth and punched the ground in fury. His personal maid, guarding the entrance, listened to his tantrum and sighed in disappointment. At that moment, Ordeus and Benjamin arrived, seeking an audience with Crake. The maid stepped forward immediately, blocking their path, wary of Ordeus’s true intentions.
"Quite loyal, aren't you?" Ordeus said calmly. "But don't worry, we're here not because I want your leader to repent or something."
"Why should I believe you?" the maid replied, her expression hardening. "What if you try to manipulate him, knowing he is in your debt? What if you take advantage of his stupidity for your own goals?"
"Hey! I'm not that stupid!" Crake bellowed from inside, having overheard her insult.
Ordeus snorted in amusement. "Well, you might be right. His sorry ass is quite easy to manipulate when it comes to things that benefit him most. But..."
As Ordeus spoke, the sky, even far from the heart of Qtiryn, slowly bled into a sickly, scarlet hue. The citizens and survivors alike froze, their attention pulled toward the abnormal heavens in confusion and dread.
"What the...?" the maid whispered, her eyes widening at the impossible sight.
"Seems like they've made a move," Ordeus said, turning his gaze toward the reddish horizon. "You know what we should do, right, Crake?"
A loud, weary sigh echoed from the tent. Crake stepped out, his face pale as he desperately clutched the stump of his severed left arm. He walked toward Ordeus with an unsteady gait.
"I suppose it can't be helped," Crake muttered.
"Sir Crake?" the maid asked, startled.
"Prepare everyone who can still stand for the battle!" Crake roared, glancing over his shoulder at his maid and Ordeus. "We’re going to have a truce with the Dark Holder. We'ew going to join them to neutralize the awakened Leviathan’s force!"
Meanwhile, in the private infirmary, Rein walked down the long corridor carrying a food tray, a breakfast he had prepared for Carol. However, when he slid the door to her room open, she was nowhere to be found. Only a single letter lying on the empty bed caught his eye. Shocked by the sudden disappearance of his friend, Rein hurried into the room, set the tray on the bedside table, and snatched up the letter to read its contents:
"If you're reading this, that means you noticed her disappearance. Don't worry, she's fine for now. I asked her big sister to take care of her. But of course, I am only giving her time to make her next decision. So, instead of searching for her, I prefer you guys to focus on the Leviathan's force. It seems like her Leviathan side is eager to find Carol."
~Mary
After finishing the letter, Rein let out a heavy, frustrated sigh. "Just how much secrets is that woman hiding from us?"
"Not so much. But I know what you're feeling about it, Sir Rein."
Hearing his name, he turned slightly to find Mira standing firmly in the doorway.
"Why didn't your master tell us about this sooner, Mira?" Rein asked, his voice sharp with annoyance.
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"I'm sorry, Sir Rein. But Miss Mary didn't have the time back then to explain everything. She didn't want any Apostles to suspect her disappearance," Mira explained with a flat, professional expression. "In fact, she said it was much more dramatic if you found out for yourselves... and I wholeheartedly agree."
Heared her statement, Rein snorted, though a small, wry grin tugged at his lips. "Seems like you're having fun serving your new master."
"Indeed. At least she hasn't ordered me to kill anyone yet," Mira replied, offering a rare smile of her own. "In fact, it has been quite fun traveling around, rather than serving in the same house over and over again."
"Is that so?" Rein looked back down at the letter in his grasp, his expression hardening as worry clouded his eyes. "Wherever you are... I hope you choose what’s best for you, Carol," he mumbled to himself.
Back at Erika's home atop the mountain peak, Carol suddenly sneezed as she walked down the corridor.
"Why do I feel like someone is saying my name?" she mumbled to herself, rubbing her nose.
Standing before Erika's room, Carol slid the door open slightly, only to be surprised that Erika was nowhere to be found. Confused, she stepped inside, turning her head as she searched for any clue of her sister’s whereabouts. Without warning, Erika, who had been perched silently in the ceiling, launched an ambush. She dropped to the floor, punching the tatami with enough force to send a shockwave through the room. The impact knocked Carol backward against the wall, leaving her kneeling on the ground as she groaned in pain.
"Our labors commence even now, mine own sister!" Erika exclaimed. She stood up and threw a spare sword toward Carol. "For I shall put thy resolve to the proof with mine own hand!"
The moment Carol saw the sword lying before her, her body began to tremble with such primal fear that she recoiled, backing away from the weapon. Her breathing grew shallow and unstable as the seconds ticked by.
Erika watched Carol’s reaction, her expression hardening with frustration. "Hath it come to this? Art thou so unmanned by fear that thou darest not even lay hand upon thy blade?" she asked, her voice tight with lingering anger.
"I-I'm sorry, Big Sis," Carol answered, her voice shaking. "I don't know why, but I feel like I don't want to wield this type of weapon. It's just... my body is begging me to stop fighting."
"Then lay constraint upon it!"
"Huh?"
Erika drew her katana, pointing the tip of the blade at Carol with both hands firmly gripping the hilt. "If thy craven flesh shrinks from the grasp, then thy soul must compel it!" She suddenly rushed forward at a blinding speed. "Only then shall I discern the true nature of thy Choice!"
Closing the distance instantly, Erika delivered a powerful thrust. The impact knocked Carol through the paper walls and into a tree outside the machiya, as the wood shattered and smoke obscured her vision.
As the smoke slowly cleared, Erika wore a proud smile, noticing that Carol had stood her ground. She was finally wielding the sword in her left hand.
"’Tis more fitting," Erika said. She spun her katana with elegant excitement, swinging it to clear the remaining haze. "Now, art thou prepared to render thy retribution, mine own sweet sister?"
Carol’s hands continued to tremble, her instincts begging her to let go of the steel. However, she forced her fingers to grip the hilt tightly, closing her eyes. Within her mind, a flickering, glitching scream haunted her, growing louder the longer she held the blade. Ghostly hands reached out to drag her toward a white void, just as they had on the battlefield. Despite the horror, she pushed forward, snapping her eyes open with newfound resolve.
"Yes. Although I don't know why you're doing this to me, I just have a feeling you're doing it for my sake," Carol said, dropping into her own battle stance. "You wouldn't mind if I do the same, right?"
Hearing the challenge, Erika snorted in amusement. "Be it so! If, indeed, thou art possessed of the wit to see it done."
In the former village, a small, dark castle now loomed, its silhouette roaring against the sky from the center of the ruins. Dein strolled through the halls, astonished by the cold beauty of the interior architecture. However, his wandering stopped when he encountered Mary, who emerged suddenly from a pool of shadows directly in front of him.
"Hey, Mary. Where have you been?" Dein asked casually, causing Mary to jump slightly.
"O-oh, nothing!" she chuckled nervously. "I just... well... was taking some fresh air, something like that."
"Is that so?"
Then, Chris’s voice echoed telepathically within their minds. "Dein, Mary. Can you come to the throne room? It seems like the Priestess has something to say."
At his words, the two figures looked at one another with starkly different expressions. Dein wore a sickening smile, while Mary looked away, her face clouded with worry.
They arrived at the throne room, a chamber of pure, dark brick beneath a massive, transparent glass dome that dominated the center of the ceiling. All five Apostles knelt, offering their respect to Irene as she rose from her throne.
She cast a menacing gaze downward, analyzing each of them in turn. Finally, Irene let out a sigh. "Stand up. It is simply embarrassing to see you worship me as if I were some divine entity," she demanded. In response, everyone rose to their feet. "Good. Now..." Irene held her hand aloft, manifesting a spear of Dark Ender and gripping it firmly. She stomped the butt of the spear hard against the floor, gently brushing her hair back with her free hand. "Answer me, my Apostles. Who among you possesses the Grimoire? I have noticed something resonating with my Ender."
Hearing her question, Dein chuckled in pure amusement. "It is I, Priestess," he admitted casually. He pulled the Grimoire from the satchel at his waist and offered it to Irene. "I retrieved it when the weapon was sealed back at the Verlyn Campus."
"So, you are the one who stole the Grimoire. I don't know if I should be thankful for what you did back then." Irene took the book and closed her eyes, concentrating her Ender into the pages. Darkness coated the Grimoire, consuming the text until it took the physical form of a violet sword resting in her right hand. For that, she opened her eyes. "Interesting," she murmured, looking at the blade with a menacing smile.
She allowed her spear to vanish into thin air, instead gripping the violet hilt with both hands and holding it above her head. She channeled her Dark Ender into the steel and swung it toward the ground, releasing a dark volley of blades that traveled at high speed toward the entrance. Smoke billowed from the impact, slowly clearing to reveal the heavy doors shattered into splinters.
"Heh. All of you know what I want you to do, right?" Irene asked, the glare of her red irises radiating through the darkness.
"As you wish, Priestess!" the Apostles roared in unison. They filed out of the room, departing on their separate paths.