[Mirabel Anstalionah.]
The sand was littered with scars of battle, churned and darkened by blood.
Years had already been carved into this struggle, each breath drawn heavier than the last, each swing of my blade echoing with exhaustion.
My body burned, but my will had not dimmed. I could not allow it to.
I set my eyes upon the group before me, and there was Griffin.
He sat high atop the battered walls of the castle gate, a faint smile resting on his face as if this war were not his to join, as though he were untouched by the chaos below.
My heart ached at the sight of him. He belonged away from this battlefield, far from the ruin I was bound to create. He could never take part in this fight.
His very presence here was dangerous enough.
Below him stood Satire, that damned rodent. Blood streaked her mouth, and her gaze burned with spite as sharp as her teeth.
Hatred poured from her like venom, unrelenting and eager.
Beside her was Nathaniel. He was the true threat, at least for now.
His black curls clung damp to his face, his brown eyes gleaming with the unnerving stillness of something that should not have risen.
His skin was pale, almost translucent, as though drawn from death itself, yet his every step carried a purpose that felt neither mortal nor divine.
There was something in the way he regarded the world, as if every motion, every life, every scream were already known to him, catalogued, weighed, pitied.
Even the sand beneath him seemed to still when he walked.
The three of them wore white armor, symbols of something pure made mockeries by the hands that bore them.
But it was Nathaniel's sword that unsettled me most.
Its weight was not in steel but in conviction, the kind that bends reality to the will of belief.
I lifted my own blade, its crimson sheen alive in the waning light. My voice rang out steady, resolute. "Do you intend to fight until the very end?"
Satire's lips curled into a wicked grin. "Funny, really. Only recently did I reclaim the power that bitch Nicole stole from me. Which means she's still alive."
My eyes sharpened. Her laughter was shrill as she appeared before me in a blur, smile stretching wide. "I get to fight her again. And this time, I'll make her suffer."
Her sword flashed, light tearing through the air like a divine strike.
But my hatred swallowed it whole. My hand rose, calm and unyielding. "Fall."
The command thundered from my throat, laced with the wrath of my very bones. Satire stumbled back, crashing to her knees.
Her Regalia writhed, clawing for dominance, but it broke against me.
The will of my soul was absolute.
With a snarl, she flicked her blade. Time itself fractured as infinite attacks fell upon me from every direction, every instant.
Yet I was already gone. Each strike dissolved into nothing, fading into the abyss my power carved.
Her eyes widened, sparkling not with fear but delight. "Now that is magic! Such potency, such mastery. What is it you wield?"
I drew a long, measured breath, letting my voice deepen with the truth etched into my veins. "There is a law. A rule. A fact, a truth, and a lie, woven into the bones of this world."
My blade began to change, merging with my Regalia until it became more than a weapon, an extension of my very being.
I did not know the cost it would demand, but I knew I would bear it all.
My hair burned red as it fell about me, my body sharpening with the wrath I could no longer contain.
The blade pulsed with a faint rose glow, its hilt forged in black, its guard curving in silver like the arc of judgment itself.
In a heartbeat, its edge was at Nathaniel's throat.
But his blade was already there to meet it. Sparks danced, and his voice carried neither strain nor fear.
"The Red Giant of Wrath," Nathaniel said evenly, each word deliberate, neither praise nor insult but pure observation. "Is this truly the peak of your strength?"
Behind me, Satire struck, but I spun, parrying her blade before bending back as Nathaniel's sword thrust forward, slicing the air where my chest had been.
I flipped, my legs spinning through the dust, the heel of my boot striking Satire across the neck even as I missed Nathaniel.
I twisted with the momentum, dragging Satire down into the sand before shifting forward and skidding back.
Nathaniel's blade shimmered into the space my throat had occupied only a heartbeat earlier.
Satire was at my side again, as though she had always been there. She swung with fury, her blade hissing through the air.
I flicked my hair, a ripple of force bursting outward and shoving her back. She snarled, grit her teeth, and came again.
This time, I clenched my fist.
Her armor shattered with a sharp crack, and she froze, startled. In that brief pause, I lunged, but Nathaniel was already there, his sword intercepting mine and shoving me away.
"Don't fight," he pleaded, his voice trembling with something that felt almost holy. "Submit. Submit to the eternal bliss that waits for you. Please."
There was no desperation in him, only an ache, a quiet, weary mercy. His eyes reflected not triumph but mourning.
Satire scoffed, her voice sharp and cold. "Don't beg them, Nate. They're lost. Just putrid filth we need to bury."
I raised my hand, fingers cutting the air. Waves of black holes and nebulae unfolded around them, a cosmic storm swirling into existence.
With a snap of my fist, I detonated the maelstrom.
But Nathaniel exhaled, just a breath, and the spell unraveled, evaporating into nothingness. "It's frightening," he said softly, as if speaking to the wind.
"How much you fight, Red Giant… how deep your wrath goes. I hate it."
Then they came together. Both at once.
Their blades swung with a force and might that no other in this world could rival.
My sword moved in furious rhythm, deflecting strike after strike, the clash of steel ringing like judgment.
At last, I found a breath, a moment to retaliate.
Their eyes burned with certainty, with a belief that my wrath was unjust, my hatred immoral.
"As do I!" I roared, my voice a battle-cry that shook the sand. Waves of red mana burst from me, blasting them back.
I leapt into the air, seizing Satire as she staggered, and hurled her into the earth.
The sand shattered like glass beneath her, splintering into dust as blood splattered across my leg.
I landed hard, rolling as Nathaniel's blade cut down. I twisted, weaving away by the width of a hair, then caught his wrist and crushed it in my grip.
He cursed, wrenching free, but not before I pressed a condensed universe into his chest.
His mana flared, forming a barrier, and when my creation exploded, it hurled him backward.
Seizing the chance, I summoned again, not creation, but its absence.
A void orb, perfect and terrible, burned in my palm.
I lunged for Satire as she struggled upright, her eyes wide with dawning fear. I drove it toward her chest.
But then I heard it. A sound. A heartbeat. The rhythm was unnatural, its speed beyond mortal comprehension.
Time itself fractured. Space yielded. Before my mind could even process the moment, Nathaniel moved.
In an instant, he was upon me. His kick launched me back, lightning chains binding my limbs before I could even draw breath.
And then came the spear. A spear of lightning tore through my chest, piercing flesh and heart.
Another heartbeat. The second. My vision caught up, reality crashing down with unbearable clarity.
"This, Red Giant of Wrath," Nathaniel said, his voice heavy with sorrow, "this is the power of the Saint of Sorrow."
The sound of that heartbeat still echoed in my skull, faster than time, crueler than space. Many believed Zehliah was the fastest Saint.
They were wrong. It was only because Nathaniel had never revealed himself to the world.
He was hidden, unknown to all but Griffin and me.
He had been a trump card, one I had prayed would never enter this war. I had thought his detachment, his hollow indifference, would keep him away.
But it had been meaningless to hope. Now, all that hope felt meaningless.
His face shifted, his expression no longer carved from hatred but steeped in pity.
"Fall, little Red," he said softly. "Face the ultimate fact. Face the incarnation of reason… and negligence."
He stepped forward, and I caught sight of Griffin's face. Excitement flickered there.
Nathaniel's voice was quiet but final. "This is the end of your world."