A few hours had passed.
The night outside cricked with the sounds of distant insects and the occasional low screech of something wild. Within the stone corridors of the outpost, however, all was silence.
Nivlek moved down the hallway, the dim lanterns flickering with a faint orange glow as "He" approached the reinforced door.
"He" opened the door and stepped inside.
The room was dimly lit, casting long shadows over the lavish bed at its center. Priscilla remained chained as she looked like she was waiting.
"You took your time," she said first, voice smooth but edged with venom. "Don't tell me you've grown patient after all these years."
"I chose to let time do its work," Nivlek replied evenly, stepping further in but staying outside the artifact's range. "No point wasting energy if the hours will soften you for me."
Priscilla chuckled lightly, reclining slightly against the headboard. "Well, you've done a remarkable job. I haven't felt this calm in a long time. It's… disturbing, actually."
She tilted her head, studying him through strands of dark hair.
"Why'd you do it?" she asked. "Why help me regain my sanity?"
Nivlek folded "His" arms behind "His" back. "I could've just killed you and grasped through your spirit for the information I wanted... But you're a Transmigrator and you knew me before. That gives you the benefit of doubt."
Her expression twitched. Suspicion? Curiosity?
"Benefit of what, exactly?"
"Perhaps, of cooperation," "He" said.
Without letting the moment settle, "He" stepped forward in tone.
"Now, let's not beat around the bush. How did you get transmigrated?"
Her brows furrowed. She stared at "Him" for a moment, contemplating over "His" words. Then, slowly, she exhaled.
"I transmigrated just like everyone else a few years ago." She spoke with a trace of distance. "My host was neck-deep into the events of the Dream Festival, in Tizamo Town… That cursed week, tsk."
Nivlek nodded slightly. "He" already knew of such an event for years now.
"In the middle of all that mess…," she continued. "She'd received Boons from my Blue-eyed king, of which I'm not that against of. However it's not compatible with her original pathway, tearing her apart and bringing her to her death."
She smiled without joy. "After I've transmigrated into this body, I was spared of death, but not the madness. My mind was already fracturing to insanity, inheriting the wreckage in her place."
She tapped her temple with one bound hand.
"This mess? Not entirely mine. At least, not originally."
Nivlek's gaze sharpened. "So the split… it wasn't voluntary?"
"No," she said, shaking her head. "It happened over time. Both pathways left their marks. One cannot fully avoid the influence of beyonder characteristics after all."
She looked at him seriously now.
"I don't even remember my original personality and self. There are some faint echoes, but the full picture? Beats me."
Nivlek narrowed "His" eyes.
"What about the Abyss pathway?" "He" asked. "How does it affect you, beyond the violence? Its reputation isn't exactly pristine."
Priscilla scoffed.
"It's complicated. The Abyss doesn't turn you evil," she said, "Not exactly. It removes boundaries and pushes your limits. If you've got any darkness inside, any pain, hate and anger, it doesn't fight it. It lets it bloom."
She leaned forward, chains straining quietly.
"I became more violent. More… uninhibited. But I never lost my core principles. I still made choices. Even if I couldn't feel the guilt afterward."
Nivlek watched her carefully.
She went on. "Some things got amplified. My distaste for the Sailor Pathway turned into loathing and I made a hobby of killing them. My sense of pride? Made me vindictive. If someone crossed a line with me, intentionally or not, I didn't let it go. Ever."
"He" nodded once.
"So my suspicions were correct," "He" muttered. "The Abyss is a lost cause. A slow descent into damnation."
But Priscilla shook her head, eyes narrowed.
"No," she said, "You're wrong. It's not damnation. It's more like an addiction. Due to my unrestrained madness, I reveled in it, like an alcoholic drowning in alcohol."
She smiled faintly, without apology.
"But now? With my head clear, even just a little… I can tell. I'm still me. Although I am still willing to do those things, while not regretting them, the difference is that now I can choose.
Nivlek studied her for a long second.
"Useful distinction," "He" said finally. "And good to hear from someone inside the spiral."
"He" turned slightly.
"But talk is talk. I'll judge it in practice. When I test your 'control' properly."
Priscilla tilted her head, a glint in her eye. "I don't blame you, it's the smart thing to do."
She continued before silence could descend on the conversation, her chains clinking softly as she shifted on the bed.
"So," she said with a slight tilt of her head, voice syrupy and sly, "does this mean I'll be joining your little fray of misfits, General?" Her lips curved, amusement glittering faintly in her red eyes.
Nivlek raised a brow, unimpressed. "For now? No," he replied dryly. "Just because I've gained a clearer picture of the Abyss Pathway doesn't mean I've lost all caution. You're still a madness-ridden, Demoness of Purple. Be it a transmigrator or not."
"He" let the silence stretch for a moment.
"That said," "He" added, "that could change. If you cooperate… prove yourself useful… and show you can be trusted."
Priscilla hummed. "Big 'if' there."
Nivlek ignored the comment and pressed on, "His" tone shifting.
"Then tell me, what exactly is your role in the Sect? Who is the 'Demoness of Purple'?"
Priscilla leaned back as much as the chains allowed, her gaze drifting toward the ceiling.
"As a Saint, my position is mostly fixed," she said. "The 'Demoness of Purple' was a label given… then expected. After the Dream Festival incident, word spread that I survived it. That brought attention, expectations… and suspicion."
She rolled her shoulder, voice losing some of its previous bite.
"Because of my… erratic behavior, I was left out of the major operations. They didn't trust me with anything important. I was sent back to the Dream Festival in a supervisory role, to monitor things, do small errands, and keep my madness busy in the Southern Continent."
Nivlek scoffed.
"So you're useless, then."
A sharp smile returned to her lips. "Not quite. I may not be at the center, but I know a few bases. Important ones. Hidden ones. Some are too deep for even most Saints to find. They might distrust me, but I'm still a Saint. I'm still the 'Demoness of Purple.'"
Nivlek narrowed "His" eyes and stood silent, mulling her words.
Before "He" could continue questioning, something rippled across "His" mind. A sharp pull from "His" Chain of Command.
"His" expression darkened instantly.
It was Seraphon. The voice came through the link, strained and urgent.
"General, Mesrin is under siege! Its a heavy assault from the Demoness Sect! We believe it's retaliation for "Your" capture. We need reinforcements!"
Nivlek's posture shifted at once.
Across the room, Priscilla noticed. Her eyes gleamed with recognition.
"Ah… looks like something's come up," she purred. "Trouble already? What did I tell you? Should've kept your guard up."
"He" turned "His" head slightly, just enough to meet her eyes with a cold stare.
"You'll stay here. Quiet."
She smirked. "Be careful, would you? Honestly… I'd prefer a familiar face to stay alive."
Nivlek clicked "His" tongue and shut the door behind "Him" without another word.
As the door closed, "He" activated the mental connection again.
"Emory. Alistair."
"Yes, sir." Their voices answered instantly.
"There is an ongoing assault of the Demoness Sect happening in Mesrin. Remain in the base," Nivlek ordered. "In full alert. If anything breaches, report immediately. You're to hold the line if needed until I return."
"Acknowledged."
Then, "He" made a brief detour through the base's armory.
"His" hand reached for a familiar item resting beneath a sealed glass case, a pendant of radiant gold shaped like a closed eye, bisected by a narrow line, a delicate representation of balance. At its center pulsed a shard of obsidian crystal, shifting faintly between light and shadow, reacting to the moral weight of those nearby.
The Judgmental Scales.
Without ceremony, "He" looped the chain around "His" neck, tucking the artifact beneath "His" coat. The metal was cool against his skin.
Then, without hesitation, Nivlek strode past the outpost's gates.
The moment "He" was clear, "His" form ignited, twisting into a brilliant spear of azure-violet fire. It howled through the sky with the roar of a storm, tearing a blazing line across the jungle starscape as "He" raced toward Mesrin.
The hunt had resumed.
…
The city burned.
Ash coated the half-shattered streets. Rubble lined the temple steps. The distant cries of civilians had long since faded, evacuated or silenced. And now, at the broken center of it all, three men stood bloodied and defiant against two demonesses, radiant in their beauty and dripping with death.
Leading them was High-Ranking Deacon Seraphon Greaves of the Eternal Blazing Sun's local Church.
To his side stood Major Claive, a titan of purple flame. His current form bore the manifestation of a smaller Calamity Giant, an iron-black skeletal silhouette blazing with heat and symbolism. And behind them, wounded but steady, was Lieutenant Fenien, breath ragged as he gripped his rifle, blood trailing down his temple.
Before them lounged the enemy.
Two demonesses, if beauty could ever wear such malice so freely. They looked like nobility sculpted in gold and ice.
The one in front, the Demoness of Gold, tilted "Her" head slightly, voice tinged with mockery.
"Still standing? How tenacious," "She" crooned. "Your gracious General is awfully late, wouldn't you say? Or has he decided you're not worth saving?"
Seraphon raised his spear, but it trembled in his grasp.
The Demoness smiled wider.
"Let's end it, then."
"She" raised her hand.
Ice spears erupted, gleaming with a chilling cold, racing toward them in a swarm of death. "Her" gaze snapped toward them, and a subtle petrifying influence followed. Seraphon gasped, his limbs stiffening.
However, a great meteor of violet flame streaked across the sky.
It collided, shattering the incoming ice barrage mid-air. Light exploded across the plaza as the impact cracked stone and scattered the spears into frozen dust.
From the heart of the flames, a figure stepped forward.
Nivlek Sauron.
"His" armor gleamed under the fractured moonlight. In "His" hand, a greatsword of galvanized steel shimmered with burning azure-purple fire. "His" red hair fluttered behind him, eyes sharp as knives.
From "His" very steps, a new wave of red-bloody fog spread across the battlefield, saturating the surroundings and severing external influences.
"General!" Claive, the War Bishop coughed. "You made it!"
"We would've been long dead without his petition and sacrifice," Fenien added, nodding at Claive. "He blocked what he could and bought us time."
"Only barely," Seraphon muttered, wiping his lip. "But the Blazing Sun still stands."
Nivlek said nothing at first. "He" raised "His" left hand and a wave of the Chain of Command reasserted itself. The outpost was only 8 kilometers away. All "His" subordinates were now under "His" direct control once more.
Then, without ceremony, "He" pointed the burning greatsword at the two women.
"Demonesses never change," "He" said, voice cold as frost beneath a furnace. "Always petty. Always violent. Always thinking your beauty masks the rot."
"His" grin was grim. "No wonder I captured one of your colors. Maybe I'll add two more to the collection."
The Demoness of Gold let out a slow, sly laugh.
"My, how bold," "She" mused, mock-pouting. "But you were always the main event, weren't you?" "She" twirled a finger through her hair. "Looks like our bait worked."
Before "Her" words had fully settled, "She" clenched "Her" fist.
A hurricane erupted.
Winds howled, tearing through the plaza with the intent to disperse the protective fog. At the same moment, the ground beneath them quaked violently, buildings trembling as shockwaves of ruptured earth surged toward the four soldiers.
The second woman, the Unaging, vanished in a blink, her gemstone bracelet flickering as she teleported from place to place, trying to flank from unexpected angles.
But Nivlek reacted instantly.
"He" propelled "Himself" and "His" three subordinates upward in a burst of flames and a surge of wind. While in the air, "His" hands twisted, grabbing hold of the weather around them.
The hurricane twisted in place, then collapsed, its violent spiral unraveling like a torn scroll.
"His" eyes locked on the Catastrophe.
"You're mine."
A Justice Halo flared behind his head, brilliant, holy and overwhelming. The very light of it suppressed all around him, tightening the battlefield. This was Emory's ability, channeled through the Chain of Command.
The Unaging Demoness's movement faltered. Her teleportation slowed, dragged down by the Halo's light. Still, she raised her bracelet, manifesting a series of mirrored doors across the battlefield.
Each one shimmered with light, threatening to send Nivlek's group scattering across unknown realms.
But the red fog still clung to the air,dense as always, empowered by the General's will.
Each door began to shudder. One by one, they cracked. The ambient interference of the Fog of War had returned in full.
The four descended in unison, boots striking the cracked stone of Mesrin's desecrated plaza.
Before their heels had even settled, Nivlek turned sharply, eyes flashing.
"Focus on the Unaging," "He" ordered. "I'll take the golden bitch."
Seraphon, Claive, and Fenien gave firm nods. Claive's towering form shrinked as the flames vanished and his Calamity Giant form collapsed, leaving him battered but mobile. The three pivoted, weapons raised, already circling the flickering figure of the Unaging Demoness as she darted between the battlefield.
But, Nivlek blinked.
The Demoness of Gold was gone.
"She" did not vanish, but was hidden.
A hurricane erupted again, this time point-blank beside "Him". It ripped the red fog from the air in a violent spiral, clearing a wide radius around "Him". And then, like vultures from the abyss, a myriad of mirrors manifested, circling "Him" at every angle.
Each mirror rippled with supernatural power, one brought curses, another shimmered with petrification, others radiated plagues, toxic and deadly.
But Nivlek didn't hesitate.
"He" raised "His" sword and "His" voice.
"God says it's ineffective here!"
The Justice Halo surged behind "Him", expanding with holy fury, its radiance blinding.
Then, "he" twisted into a full spin, dragging "His" greatsword outward in a whirling arc.
A tornado of burning azure-violet flames exploded from "His" body, spiraling upward like a divine inferno.
The curse-laced mirrors cracked, their powers weakening beneath the sheer brilliance of "His" declaration, before shattering entirely, reduced to glittering shards sucked into the vortex of fire.
Shortly after the flames even settled.
"She" struck.
The Demoness of Gold reappeared, body low and moving like lightning.
In "Her" hand, a circular silver dagger, ornate and glinting with abnormal speed. The blade moved like a rapier, slicing in elegant arcs far faster than Nivlek could match.
"He" met "Her" strikes with "His" greatsword, blocking, parrying, but barely.
Too fast. Too sharp.
Then, in a flicker between attacks, "Her" left hand darted forward, catching Nivlek under "His" ribs.
A cold spike ran through "Him".
"Her" fingers pressed into "His" skin, and some of "His" vitality drained instantly.
"His" body staggered, "His" muscles stiffened and "His" Breath shallowed.
"Her" necklace made of pure-white bone, now clearly visible, pulsed faintly.
And "Her" eyes, those terrible, beautiful eyes, glowed a deeper gold now. Every glance sapped something more.
"Such a shame," "She" murmured, "Her" lips inches from "His" ear. "Even angels rot eventually."
Nivlek growled.
"His" blade lit again, flames bursting across "His" body.
"Burn."
An explosion of azure-violet fire surged outward, enveloping "Her" instantly.
But there was no scream, only glass shattering.
"She" dissolved into a swarm of fractured mirror shards, spinning outward and vanishing into the air.
A Mirror Substitution.
Nivlek dropped to a knee, catching "Himself" on the greatsword. "His" breathing was heavy.
Then, through gritted teeth, "He" muttered:
"Silver Knight's blade. Ferryman's necklace. Her left hand and gaze are cursed. Deadlier than she looks."
"He" steadied himself.
The Demoness of Gold reappeared, a flicker of glamor and malice slipping between the ash and smoke. "Her" dagger spun in "Her" hand, and "Her" free palm glittered with cold magic as "She" prepared another onslaught.
But Nivlek moved first.
Flames burst outward, then split and took form. Ravens, each one wreathed in his signature azure-violet fire, cried out and soared toward "Her", their paths erratic, but their aim precise.
"She" reacted swiftly, dodging three, weaving gracefully through the air, then raised a hand.
Frost erupted, a sudden snap of ice that encased the rest in glacial prison mid-flight. The air screamed as heat and cold collided.
But "She" didn't get the chance to celebrate.
A sudden flash glimmered from the pendant hanging at Nivlek's neck.
The Judgmental Scales.
The silver eye etched into its center flared, casting a thin beam of pale light directly onto her. As Nivlek pointed at her, his expression impassive, the obsidian shard within the charm shifted, weighing her soul.
A verdict was rendered.
In an instant, four of "Her" abilities were deprived!
Dark Magic, Petrification, the Silk Threads, and even her potent Charm, all stripped from "Her".
"She" gasped, reeling.
But Nivlek didn't hesitate.
"He" closed the gap like a storm, greatsword blazing once more.
Flame-armors roared into life, engulfing Nivlek's limbs and chest like molten gauntlets and a war-born cuirass. Above "Him", the Justice Halo shimmered back into view, divine and unwavering, while the Armor of Light shimmered faintly around "His" body, a radiant mantle layered atop the inferno.
The Demoness's silver dagger struck again, this time meeting hardened steel and holy light. It screeched and sparked, "Her" precise thrusts failing to pierce the glowing barrier.
Worse still, "Her" infamous Death Glare met "His" eyes.
But it faltered.
The Justice Halo's suppression dampened the force behind "Her" gaze, rendering the once-piercing influence little more than a flicker.
"You're slipping," Nivlek murmured, blade rising in a wide, deliberate arc.
"She" growled and took a step back.
But flames coiled around "Her" boots, a living snare, burning and biting.
Then, suddenly.
The Halo flickered and the Armor cracked.
In a flash, the divine protection shattered into light particles and vanished.
Nivlek froze, just for a heartbeat, as an invisible silence washed over "His" mind.
The Chain of Command… severed.
"His" connection to Emory, gone. Even Alistair was cut off.
"His" pupils narrowed.
And the Demoness struck.
With a laugh like ringing glass, "She" launched forward. "Her" silver blade became a blur, raining down blow after blow with inhuman speed and vicious precision. "Her" bone necklace glinted, hungering, while "Her" gaze returned, and this time, it dug deeper.
Nivlek twisted, parried, absorbed what "He" could, but now, without the purifying light, "His" defenses bled.
With a low snarl, "He" burst into a torrent of flames, "His" form unraveling into flickering fire.
"He" surged backward, flaming arcs spiraling from "His" retreat, buying distance.
The Demoness pursued, but suddenly, the air changed.
The skies darkened.
Above the battlefield, the clouds churned, unnatural and seething. Thunder groaned across the sky, and veins of white crawled through the darkness.
A single bolt of lightning screamed down, silent at first, then deafening, cleaving the battlefield in two.
It struck the Demoness of Gold dead-on.
The impact blasted stone and ash into the air.. The ground where "She" had stood was scorched into glass.
Nivlek landed with a thud, steam hissing from "His" armor.
"His" eyes never left the rising smoke.