In the shadowed sanctum of Schicksal's command chamber, the atmosphere was thick with anticipation. The only illumination came from a vast holographic display, casting a violet hue that danced across the ornate tapestries and polished floors. Each flicker of light revealed glimpses of the unfolding battle, a confrontation that held the fate of many in its balance.
Otto Apocalypse stood at the center, his posture rigid, hands clasped behind his back. His emerald eyes, typically gleaming with calculated confidence, now mirrored the chaotic dance of lightning on the screen. Behind him, Fu Hua maintained her stoic vigil, her gaze fixed not on the devastation but on Yuzuki, who stood silently, the weight of past decisions pressing upon him.
"And so it begins," Otto murmured, his voice barely audible over the distant rumble of thunder.
Beyond the screen, the city was under siege. Bolts of lightning tore through the heavens, illuminating the skyline in stark relief. Buildings shuddered under the onslaught, their facades crumbling, sending shards of glass cascading like deadly rain. The very earth seemed to convulse, unable to withstand the fury unleashed upon it.
Amidst the maelstrom stood Victor, a lone figure defying the tempest. His silhouette was etched against the backdrop of destruction, his tattered blazer billowing, not from wind, but from the sheer force of the energy that surrounded him. The air around him shimmered, distorted by the immense power he wielded.
Otto's gaze remained fixed on the display, his mind a whirlwind of calculations and contingencies. "Does he stand there because he's brave? Or is he merely a fool?" he pondered aloud, his tone laced with a mixture of admiration and apprehension.
Fu Hua's response was measured, her voice devoid of emotion. "He is neither. To you, it may seem dangerous or foolish to confront a Herrscher. But to that man, it is simply his duty—a duty he must fulfill. That is the Victor I call my friend."
Otto nodded slowly, the corners of his mouth curling into a faint, melancholic smile. "Duty... a concept both noble and burdensome. Let us hope it guides him… to us."
The room fell silent once more, the only sounds the distant cacophony of the storm and the soft hum of the holographic display. In that moment, the weight of choices made and paths taken pressed heavily upon them all.
___________________________________
In a chamber not far away, a man garbed in priestly attire stood solemnly before a towering window. His ebony skin was bathed in the moon's silvery glow, and his orange eyes reflected a storm of emotions. Clutched tightly in his hands was a golden necklace adorned with a cross.
"Finally... the moment has arrived," he murmured, his voice a gravelly whisper that resonated with anticipation. His grip on the necklace tightened until the metal snapped, the cross breaking in half. Unfazed, he let the fragments fall, their clatter against the floor echoing in the silent room.
He raised his hands to his head, smoothing his hair as a serene smile gradually transformed into a boisterous grin. His gaze shifted to the holographic screen displaying the events beyond.
There, amidst the unbridled fury of the heavens, stood a solitary figure. Victor, unmoved by the divine wrath that descended upon him, faced the godlike entity with unwavering resolve.
Lightning struck before him, only to be swallowed by the shadows at his feet. Sparks danced harmlessly off his shoulders, repelled by an unseen force.
Kiana and Yuzuki shielded their eyes as the rooftop was illuminated by a blinding flash. Yet, as the smoke cleared, Victor remained, his violet eyes glowing beneath his wind-swept hair.
"Long have I waited... now, no more," the priest chuckled, snapping the neck of a whiskey bottle and drinking its contents. The shards of glass cut his lips, the taste of copper mingling with the burn of the alcohol—a taste he savored as the sweet essence of life.
___________________________________
The sky wailed as lightning crackled like fraying nerves above the ruined skyline.
And beneath it, she came.
Raiden Mei—crowned not in gold but in thunder—descended like a divine blade, her violet hair whipping behind her like a banner of grief. Sparks bled from her fingertips, her eyes glowing with sovereign fury, and anguish.
"Why!?" she screamed, voice ragged, raw. Each word tore out of her like lightning made flesh. "Why are you here!?"
Victor stood alone amidst the debris, his blazer torn, scorched at the edges, yet his stance unfazed.
"Why now, Victor!?" she shrieked again, bolts erupting from her arms.
"After everything—why now!?"
The lightning surged—an arc of searing pain and memory, screaming toward him with the force of a god's heartbreak.
He didn't flinch.
"I can't abandon you," Victor said plainly.
The lightning struck.
With a quiet breath, he raised his boot—and stomped. The ground beneath him cracked in a thunderous quake, stone erupting upward in a jagged column just in time to intercept the bolt mid-strike. The energy ricocheted, blinding, the flash illuminating his face in silver light.
Victor's eyes remained steady.
"You can hate me. You can strike me. But I won't leave."
Mei's hands trembled. Her jaw clenched.
"You idiot!" she cried. And then she charged again.
___________________________________
In a dimly lit chamber, the flickering glow of a colossal holographic screen cast elongated shadows across the polished floor. Gray Serpent stood with impeccable posture, his gloved hands clasped around the handle of his ever-present umbrella. The screen displayed a battle of epic proportions, the clash of titans unfolding in real-time.
"My word..." he murmured, his voice a blend of awe and trepidation. The tales he'd heard of this man, once thought to be mere exaggerations, now played out before him with undeniable reality.
While others feared the consequences of the Herrscher's potential victory, Gray Serpent's apprehension stemmed from the man's success.
Suddenly, the chamber's heavy doors creaked open, and a figure stepped in with a grace that belied her intentions. Mobius, the architect of many of the world's enigmas, entered with a smirk playing on her lips.
"Why, Gray , hosting a wonderful debut of Visage and not inviting me? Tsk, tsk," she chided, her tone dripping with mock disappointment.
Gray Serpent turned, his singular red eye narrowing slightly. "Dr. Mobius, your presence is always... unexpected. To what do I owe this visit?"
Mobius sauntered closer, her eyes gleaming with mischief. "Oh, just came to see my man in action," she replied nonchalantly.
Gray Serpent's grip on his umbrella tightened. "Your man?" he echoed, a hint of confusion in his voice.
She chuckled, the sound echoing eerily in the chamber. "Yes, dear Serpent. If you're pondering our connection, rest assured, I'm his too." Her words hung in the air, laden with implications.
Gray Serpent's mechanical features betrayed a momentary glitch, a flicker of unease. The dynamics were shifting, and even he, the ever-composed gentleman, felt the tremors of change.
___________________________________
The moonlight filtered through the wide arched windows, casting a calm silver sheen across the cluttered office of St. Freya's principal.
Theresa Apocalypse sat cross-legged on her large chair, a mug of bitter melon juice balanced in her hands, her gaze glued to the flickering holographic display hovering in front of her desk. Her white hair, tied up in its usual side ponytail, swayed slightly as she leaned forward.
On-screen, the storm raged.
Raiden Mei hovered midair, her body crackling with electric anguish.
Lightning lanced from her fingertips like divine punishment, each strike carving devastation into the rooftop below her.
And standing amidst it—unmoving, unfazed—was a man she had never met, but had read far too much about.
"…So that's him," Theresa whispered softly. Her blue eyes, usually bright and warm, narrowed just slightly. "The Vestige."
The man didn't raise his fists. Didn't retaliate. He simply stood there in that shredded uniform as the heavens tore themselves apart around him—his violet gaze locked on Mei as if the world wasn't ending at all.
Theresa took a careful sip of the juice, as if it might warm the chill creeping into her spine.
"I thought he'd be taller," she said aloud, trying to joke with herself. The quip didn't land.
She'd seen the hidden files—Eden's private clearance. What the world was never meant to remember: The erased operations. The lost cities.The Black Flames. A man who had killed and saved in equal measure until even history refused to carry his name. He wasn't in textbooks. He wasn't even in whispers.
He was just… gone
.
Until now.
Theresa swallowed, lowering the mug slightly.
"…You really were human after all, huh?" she murmured, a little surprised at how relieved she sounded.
The rooftop shattered again as another strike landed, followed by a second, then a third. Victor dodged them with just enough motion to stay breathing, but he didn't run, didn't fight back. He was talking to her—she could tell—even if the audio feed had failed under the static.
Theresa leaned back, slowly shaking her head. "You're not what I expected."
Not a monster. Not a god. Just a man who had just returned and is already throwing himself into the storm.
Her fingers curled tighter around the mug.
"…And maybe that's the scariest thing of all."
___________________________________
In a secluded chamber, shadows danced across the walls, cast by the flickering light of a holographic screen.
A figure stood silently, her face obscured by the darkness, eyes fixed on the unfolding battle displayed before her. The clash between Victor and Raiden Mei painted the screen with bursts of lightning and raw emotion.
"So, you've returned," she murmured, her voice a blend of bitterness and reverence. "The man I despise... yet cannot help but respect."
As the battle intensified, Victor's unwavering stance against Mei's onslaught stirred memories long buried. The figure stepped forward, the light revealing her identity— Sakura, the Empress of Japan. Her pink hair, reminiscent of cherry blossoms, framed a face marked by centuries of sorrow and resilience.
"Victor," she whispered, the name laden with complex emotions.
The screen flickered, capturing a moment where Victor, amidst the storm, reached out to Mei. Sakura's gaze softened, a flicker of empathy crossing her features.
"Perhaps," she mused, "... this war is not lost after all."
Turning away from the screen, Sakura's silhouette merged once more with the shadows, leaving behind the image of the man that had both taken and given her life.
___________________________________
"...Here you are again, risking yourself," Eden whispered, her voice quivering like a string pulled too tight. One hand clutched her chest as if trying to steady the storm inside, while the other trembled faintly at her side. Her golden eyes, wide with fear, never strayed from the flickering image on the screen—the man she loved dancing between death and lightning.
Each bolt cracked the sky like divine wrath, and Victor—her Victor—met it with nothing but blood, resolve, and bare fists.
"Foolish, stubborn man…" she murmured, but her words lacked malice. They were laced with grief.
She watched as he drove his fist into the earth, tearing free a slab of concrete and hurling it into the oncoming vortex of thunder. The impact shook the frame, a bloom of smoke and light swallowing his figure whole. Then—silence. Dust rained down like ash. His silhouette vanished.
Her breath hitched.
"Elysia…" Her voice broke on the name. "Watch over him… the man we all love."
Her lashes fluttered shut, her knees folding as she sank onto the bench beside her. The memories surged in.
The way his voice once laughed against hers. The way Elysia's hand would find her shoulder when she couldn't bear the silence. The way it all ended in a bloodied stillness that stole them both away.
That same stillness now threatened to return.
"Please…" she whispered, curling in on herself as a single tear slipped past her mask of poise and struck the marble floor. "Not again. Not like this. I don't want to lose you again…"
Her shoulders shook quietly, her heart aching with every echo of the thunder in the sky.
She wasn't mourning the possibility of his death.
She was mourning the parts of him already gone.
The pieces she couldn't protect from the path he'd chosen before and now walks on top of again.
___________________________________
"She's hurt," Elysia said softly, her voice drifting like wind through cherry blossoms. She stopped beside Victor, her eyes never leaving the storm of smoke and debris where Mei hovered, desperately searching for the man she thought she had struck down.
Victor remained silent, rooted where he stood, his silhouette steady—but his hands trembled at his sides.
His fingers curled slowly into fists.
He didn't understand it. The weight in his chest. The tension in his limbs. The fear that tightened around his spine like a coil. It wasn't fear of pain—no, he could endure worse. It was fear of himself.
"…It's like my body isn't mine," he muttered under his breath, eyes cast down to the cracks forming at his feet.
Elysia stepped closer, her smile gentle, glowing with warmth that somehow still reached him even now. She didn't try to force words on him. She simply raised a hand, brushing her fingers softly across his chest—where his heart beat wild and unsure.
"It's okay to be afraid, you know," she said with a sweetness that never felt fake. "Even strong people… especially strong people, forget that sometimes."
Victor swallowed thickly, jaw tight. He didn't want to look weak. Not to her. Not to Mei. Not when so many people were watching from shadows and screens.
But Elysia… didn't see him as weak.
"You're not your fear," she whispered, her voice threading through the chaos like music in a storm. "You're the one who walks forward despite it."
Her hand lingered over his chest a moment longer before she began to fade, pink light trailing from her form in small beads, like petals drifting into the wind.
"Take care of her," Elysia smiled, her expression softer than any blade of mercy. "Even if she pushes you away… especially then."
Victor's breath hitched.
"...If she lets me," he whispered, his voice quieter now, but steadier. And with that, he moved.
He shifted his weight forward—and the edge of the rooftop exploded in a burst of stone and force. His form blurred, propelled into the air like a missile of will and flesh. Wind roared past his ears.
The distance between him and Mei collapsed in an instant.
"Lashing out like this won't help you, Mei!" he shouted, breaking through the veil of smoke, violet eyes locked on hers—not to confront, but to reach.
Sparks cracked through the air like shrapnel as Victor and Mei collided—lightning against flesh, will against grief.
Each time her blade lashed out, Victor moved just enough to parry it. No flashy counters. No brute retaliation. Just smooth, efficient redirection. His footwork carved spirals into the rooftop, barely a whisper ahead of Mei's furious strikes.
She descended again, thunder screaming in her wake.
Victor ducked, caught her wrist, and twisted gently—disarming without breaking. He didn't strike back. Instead, he stepped in closer, using his body as a barrier between her rage and her ruin.
"Why are you fighting for him!?" Mei screamed, her voice cracking like thunder, eyes blazing. "After what he did—after how he betrayed us!"
Victor's jaw clenched. He blocked another bolt with the flat of his forearm, letting it scorch the sleeve clean off before he twisted around her, sweeping her leg—but catching her wrist before she could fall.
"I'm not fighting for him," he said quietly. "I'm fighting for you."
Her breath hitched—barely a moment to take it in before she surged again, reckless, tears stinging down her cheeks as lightning danced around her.
"Then why!? Why do this—why go this far!? Is it pity!?"
"No." Victor pushed her back with his palm, grounding her own electric surge into the rooftop through his boots.
"Then why!?" she cried, voice shattering.
"Because I want to," he growled, advancing now, each step a beat of calm against her chaos. "Because you matter."
She hesitated—just for a moment—and Victor disarmed her. With a deft spin, he knocked her sword free, kicked it away.
"Why do you care so much!?" Mei sobbed now, striking blindly. "I pushed you all away! I wanted to be alone! I didn't want you to get hurt—!"
"Because you're Raiden Mei!" Victor shouted, finally grabbing her shoulders, locking her in place as her lightning surged wildly between them. "A precious person—not just to me, but to all of us!"
She stared at him, trembling, lips parted, electricity dying off slowly around her fingertips.
"So come back."
And then—he moved.
With one clean motion, Victor reached behind her and ripped the wings of lightning from her back. Her scream echoed through the heavens, her eyes wide with shock and pain—but this time, she didn't fall.
Because he caught her.
Gently.
She slumped into his arms, her expression no longer twisted in rage but softened in exhaustion. Tears still streaked her cheeks as her breath came out in short, trembling bursts.
"...Idiot," she whispered, her voice barely audible as her eyes closed.
Victor said nothing. He just held her closer, lifting her into his arms as if she weighed nothing at all.
Above them, the storm began to break—clouds splitting to reveal a sky struggling to find its calm.
And in the silence that followed, Victor stood at the center of the cratered rooftop, Mei resting peacefully in his arms.