Italy | Tuscany | Renaissance Stronghold
The Renaissance-era fortress sprawls across the hill. Rose petals drift on a restless breeze, settling among the wounded soldiers lying on the ground.
Lucil stands before the main keep, admiring the ornate masonry—every cornice etched with saints and serpents. With a faint smile, he breached the gate.
A lone woman blocks his path, her cloak whipping around her ankles. Astonishingly long red hair and deep brown eyes.
"Lucil! End this outrage."
"I only want to talk, Caterina," he replies, amused.
Caterina hesitates, then steps aside. Lucil raises a hand.
"Thanks, Caterina."
"Red Illusion."
Rose petals spiral around until he is sure he can walk freely.
He yawns, almost sheepish. "Areal illusions aren't my strength; I prefer the personal kind. So mana-draining."
He walks the stone stairs to the upper chambers. He pushes open a heavy door—and finds Silver waiting, sword drawn, glowing eyes with moon-like pupils.
"Oh, hey," Lucil says lightly. "We need to talk!"
Silver snaps out a spell. "Lunation Halfmoon—AIM!" A silver aura ripples around him. "What trick is this, Lucil?"
Ignoring the threat, Lucil strolls to an arched window and gazes over the courtyard. "Isn't it tiresome, trying to kill each other? I know you better than anyone in my family. I mean, how many times have we fought? Sounds like a hidden romance... or an addiction. But I have—"
Silver's chin jerks up, shocked. "What are you saying? You butchered my guards!"
"Look outside."
Silver approaches the window. Below, his men lie scattered on the flagstones—bruised, unconscious, and breathing. Crimson petals drift around them, and not a single drop of blood stains the marble.
The sword in Silver's hand trembles in disbelief.
Lucil speaks seriously. "Will you at least listen to me, Silver?"
Silver lifts his sword, chanting through clenched teeth. "Lunation Zero—Cold Moon."
Outside, the moon blanches from white to glacial blue, bathing the chamber in frost-pale light.
"I'm not going to fight back," Lucil says quietly.
Silver's hands shake, ready to cast. "I hate you. Everything you touch, destroys me and my family. EVERY FAMILY I HAD! YOU KILLED THEM! OVER AND OVER!"
"You've returned the favor," Lucil answers, voice calm. "But after so much spilled blood, I started wondering—must that be the only way we live?"
"Philosophy?" Silver barks a mirthless laugh. "You butchered my wives, my parents, my siblings—over and over."
Lucil exhales, shoulders sagging. "And you did the same. In another reality, with only one try, I would hunt you without mercy. You killed someone I loved beyond reason. But she woke me up from the cycle. She showed me how beautiful this world can be."
He raises his arm. A bracelet of living roses circles his wrist, each bloom the color of dawn. For a heartbeat, the petaled face of a woman—an eye shaped like a crimson rose—flickers in his pupils, and sorrow dims his smile.
"We kill each other—that's our destiny," Silver growls.
"Destiny or fate... let's try something new," Lucil urges. "Fight against it. I have a plan—we need five cycles—and maybe we can break everything. We just need the same start!"
Silver cuts him off with a savage glare. "Nice trick, but I don't believe a word."
Lucil only chuckles. "Expected. My reaction wouldn't be different. Still—enough is enough." He leans close, voice dropping. "If you don't believe how serious I am, you can kill me in every cycle… even a hundred times. And I will not fight back. Eventually, you'll see how small our rage is in the grand design."
Silver's restraint shatters. He strides to the window, moonlight sheathing the sword like ice. "Lunation—Set Target—Lum…"
A beam condenses into a single argent arrow. "—Shot!"
Lucil stands perfectly still, smiling into the muzzle's blue glow. The arrow spears his chest; crimson petals burst outward as his body crumples, dead to the floor.
Silver's breath hitches. No duel, no final spell—just silent shock.
The door slams open. Caterina rushes in, skidding to her knees beside the corpse. "No casualties outside—no one's dead. Why did you kill him? His soldiers would have helped us! Why, Silver? He wanted to talk."
"He killed so many," Silver whispers, voice hollow. The sword slips from his fingers. He sinks to the marble, confusion and shock like vines around his heart, while rose petals drift down to settle on Lucil's still form—and dissolve his body completely.
Tokyo | Shinjuku Gyoen
Dawn settles over Shinjuku Gyoen, tinting the sky lavender. Beneath a flowering cherry tree, Silver waits with Homura. Cherry Blossom petals drift around them like slow, fragile snow. She is tall and pale, long black hair spilling over a black kimono striped in white.
Melancholy shows in Silver's eyes. "Sorry, Homura. I have to leave."
She nods, steps forward, and hugs him with a fierce embrace. "I still can't believe it—you ask me on a date, then tell me you never return."
"If everything goes well, I'll find you again. But—"
"Silver, you're always like this," she murmurs,looking deep in his eyes. "So much compassion for the humans who follow you, yet your eyes live in another realm. A realm where I can't give you comfort."
He eases from the hug and kisses her—soft, lingering. "I don't know if I'll die or if things will turn out fine. I only know one truth, I will never forget you, Homura."
"I'll keep you in my memories," she whispers, eyes bright. "And if you do come back, expect a serious beating. Leaving and returning isn't something you get to do lightly."
"Sorry—really," Silver says
"It's fine. I'll miss you." Homura says
Silver reaches into his pocket and draws out a pendant, shaped like a full moon. The metal glints gold in the dawn. He presses it into her palm. "For luck."
Homura's arms slip around him once more. "Farewell, Silver."
He turns and walks away through the falling petals, leaving Homura alone beneath the cherry blossoms. A single tear tracks down her cheek, sparkling as it catches the last glow of dusk.
Tokyo | Shinjuku Skyscraper
The lobby is deserted, rose petals drifting across the marble like soft embers. Silver steps inside, petals swirling around his boots, and he lets out a dry laugh.
"Typical Lucil always needs a dramatic stage."
He strides to the elevator. When the doors part, a fresh cascade of petals spills out like confetti. Not surprised he is leaning against the steel wall from the elevator and the door shuts down. He watches the numbers climb.
"Second time we'll fight side by side," he murmurs—"and the first time our teenage years actually matter."
At the top floor the doors glide open. Violet roses sprout from every crack in the final staircase, blooming in a fragrant trail that leads him onto the rooftop.
Lucil waits beneath the full moon, a wide steel table in front of him. Spread across its surface are weapons and artifacts gathered from every corner of the magical world.
Silver nods in greeting. "Hey."
Lucil answers with a crooked smirk. "One week of prep. Tracking down our gear in Japan was a nightmare—Seria pulled it off, but it cost me time. But I got every replica, not our original but for our final fight here it will be enough."
"Everything?" Silver arches a brow.
"Everything," Lucil repeats, tone leaving no room for doubt.
On the tabletop rests an ivory-white sword, its edge glassy with spell-work, and two handguns sporting cobalt grips. A crimson katana for Lucil.
"Replicas, interesting" says Silver.
"They won't last forever, but they'll last the fight." Lucil shrugs. "Seria stored few originals here. Like Jake's pistols—I figured they'd suit you. This radical dog- i don't know why he entrusted you with this weapon."
"That radical madman, I will never get him," Silver mutters.
Lucil gestures to the table's far end where two long coats lie folded: one pale as moon, the other deep crimson. "Also replicas, but they'll channel our mana just fine. Sadly they are not as stylish as our normal jackets."
"Guns, blades and coats," Silver says. "Why pull it together now? I mean do you have some information about an attack!"
Lucil wanders to the railing, fishes out a slim box of cigarettes, and lights one. Smoke curls into the sky. "You feel it too. You know something will happen. I have that precognition right now Silver"
Silver's gaze follows the ember. Both sets of pupils—roses and moons flare in the night glow.
"That tremor in the air," he agrees. "The taste of conflict."
"What do you think of the plan? Do you think we will survive it? It looks so simple right now because everyone is so weak but it feels wrong. Nevermind, we will do it!" Lucil asks.
Silver laughs softly. "And it all started with your thick-headed stunt in Tuscany."
"Yes—and she kept pushing me forward," Lucil says, flicking ash into the rose-strewn wind. "The Red Dragons aren't strong anymore, Silver. We're down to six real members; everyone else is just a husk. Honestly, I have doubts. You and I have always been evenly matched—but something about this feels different."
Silver narrows his moonlit eyes. "Agreed. Something's off."
Lucil takes a final drag, smoke curling around. "So we do whatever it takes—cut down anyone who stands in the way, even our own clans."
"Until we carve a sliver of light into this endless hell," Silver murmurs.
They hold each other's gaze—shared resolve, shared doom.
"I hate Jake," Lucil admits "but he did get one thing right."
Silver nods. "We have to break the world before fate breaks us. He brute-forced the door, now it's our turn to follow his radical example."
Silver phones buzz.
"Precognitions are always right" they say in unison and laugh afterwards,
Estate of the Red Dragons | Shrine
Ryujin kneels before the dragon statue, head bowed, fingers wrapped around a red staff. The air smells dead.
Footsteps echo down the stone corridor.
Mai steps into the shrine, her blue hair gleaming in the dim light.
"Father."
Ryujin doesn't turn to her. "Yes, Mai?"
"You plan to attack now—without Lucil?"
"He will join," Ryujin answers, rising to his feet. The crimson staff clicks against the floor as he turns. "I have someone who will force him to."
Mai cuts him off, voice steady and icy. "What happened to Mother?"
Ryujin hesitates. "I am sorry, but—"
"You killed her," Mai says, and her calm shatters into soft regret. "I saw the shadow growing inside you. I'm the one who's sorry. I need to end your life, Father!"
She raises a trembling hand. "Rose Accel—Fourth."
Petals whirl around her like knives. Ryujin's jaw tightens. "Forgive me, Mai, but I will use you as planned."
Control slips from her lungs, and the shrine rings with her scream. "She was our mother! You killed her—for what?"
Ryujin thrust his staff forward. "Se Ta, La Si."
Black dust erupts, crawling across the ground like living ash, shadow-like figures are rising.
Mai responds through clenched teeth. "Rose Bloom—Takt Seven!"
A hurricane of roses counters the darkness, blue roses sprouting from the ground.
Father and daughter stand face to face.
The daughter, ready to end her father's madness.
The father, ready to use his daughter as leverage.
Both full of guilt.
Both standing against each other—ready to accept the fight.