"Pride, huh?" Nero muttered.
It's a concept born in Greece, later adopted by the Church—the first of the "Seven Deadly Sins." The demon tied to it? Lucifer himself, aka Satan.
"Whether it's pity or control, it all boils down to pride," the Sphinx said. That's why Goetia and Pavone are called the "First Beast."
Pride's the top sin, the big one, because it's the root of every violent act against others. Disrespecting someone's existence, their rights, their life—thinking you can take whatever you want—that's the arrogance that breeds cruelty.
Nero got it now. That demonic aura twisting the townsfolk's minds? If they let it fester, even if Nero's crew came out fine, the town…
"Then shouldn't we hit it now, before it hatches—"
"No, Chaldeans," the Sphinx cut Mash off mid-sentence. "Even unhatched, a beast is still a beast. You'll understand once the swordsman returns."
"Swordsman… Doctor Georgios?!" Ritsuka caught on fast, her voice a mix of shock and doubt. "She… met Pavone already?"
"Of course. Not even a Demon God Pillar could keep her in that zone."
Nero kept it practical. "How long till it hatches?"
The Sphinx's answer carried a hint of despair. "The 'Seven Sunsets' are being offered as a sacrifice to Pavone. It's using the Holy Grail's power to chip away at the Sun God's divinity. Time's up… at today's sunset."
They were out of time. Less than ten hours till sunset. If, like the Sphinx said, their current firepower wasn't enough, what could they do to save this Singularity?
"This…" Ritsuka was at a loss.
But Nero spotted the gap in the logic. "Fully claiming the Sun God's divinity doesn't mean it'll hatch right then, does it?"
The Sphinx flashed an approving smile.
Bingo. A full-powered Beast was beyond what the local Heroic Spirits could handle, so this was their only shot. The Sphinx explained: after Pavone fully absorbs the Sun God's divinity, it won't hatch immediately because it'll be nighttime—the time when the sun "dies." It'll only fully transform from demon to Beast at the next sunrise, when the sun "reborns."
If they could take it down before then, history wouldn't be rewritten, the Singularity would collapse, and Ritsuka could return to her own time.
Step one? Find the last Heroic Spirit wandering this Singularity—the only one who could land a killing blow on Pavone.
"I'll be waiting for your good news," the Sphinx said. "Once the final Heroic Spirit joins up, I'll fight alongside you."
"Just one question," Nero said, locking eyes with her. "Can we win?"
The Sphinx grinned.
"You'll win," she replied.
Hernan stayed behind with her. Nero scooped Ritsuka up in a princess carry, and together with Kriemhild, they headed east of the town.
It was a quiet, empty river valley, far from the chaos. A hero who'd stayed out of the mess from start to finish was waiting there.
"Fate, huh… you've finally come for me."
Deep in the valley, a girl with long black hair tied in a ponytail, her clear eyes reflecting the sky, let out a sigh.
Like the Sphinx, she wore a white Greek-style robe, with a gold chain on her arm tethered to a scythe. Her sharp, handsome face was etched with resignation as she faced the trio.
Ritsuka didn't waste time on pleasantries. "You're a summoned Heroic Spirit, right? A Beast is about to be born in this Singularity. We need your help."
"I refuse," the girl said flatly.
Nero's brow furrowed. "Why?"
Every one of the seven Heroic Spirits they'd met so far, despite their quirks, had been willing to help Chaldea's Master. But this one was saying no—so why the hell was she summoned?
"I'm done… being fate's puppet."
In a blink, the girl vanished. Kriemhild, without a word, swung her massive sword, smashing the spot where the girl had stood.
She'd attacked without warning.
"Kriemhild!" Ritsuka shouted, stunned.
Even knowing Kriemhild was a Berserker, Ritsuka hadn't expected her to lash out at someone they'd just met. Since their encounter yesterday, she hadn't seemed this volatile.
"Fate! *Fate!*"
Kriemhild ignored Ritsuka, letting out a low, heavy laugh laced with suppressed rage. "Oh, Greek hero, if you were one of those from the epics, the legends, someone who endured trials and suffered tragedy, I'd stand with you. I'd feel you."
Tragic heroes bound by fate weren't rare in Norse or Greek myths. Kriemhild's husband, Siegfried, was one of them.
A man with the power to slay dragons and gods, his body bathed in dragon blood, near-invincible. Yet he died from a single weak spot on his back, betrayed by a dishonorable ambush.
From that moment, Kriemhild, princess of Burgundy, walked a long, bloody road of vengeance for her love. Her life ended in a frenzy of carnage.
"Those three hags at their loom—they sicken me, poison me, haunt me. I loathe them, despise them, hate them so much I can't sleep. They weave people's lives like it's nothing, shredding my heart on their loom, leaving it torn and bleeding. I'd smash their loom, drown their springs, burn them in venomous fire for eternity…"
Her voice dripped with a madness that sent chills down the spine, her eyes and sword blazing with black flames. One glance felt like it'd sear your soul forever.
Even Nero was stunned silent by the sheer weight of Kriemhild's hatred.
No one with a shred of sanity would cross Kriemhild right now. Not even a god would dare.
Kriemhild glared into the valley's icy wind, growling, "But you—fate's golden child, blessed by the gods, untouched by misfortune! You, a chosen one who's never known suffering—you dare speak of 'fate' in front of me?!"
She slammed her greatsword into the ground, sending shards of stone flying, wreathed in black flames.
"Get out here, Perseus!!!"