In the silent river valley, a lone figure stood.
She was knocked to the ground time and again, only to rise once more, crying out as she swung her fists.
She had a whole arsenal of powerful Noble Phantasms at her disposal, yet in this moment, she couldn't use a single one. Bare-handed, she clawed her way back up, launching futile counterattacks.
Tears streamed down her face as she screamed, swinging at an untouchable enemy, only to be slammed back into the dirt over and over.
How unfair. How pointless.
Perseus could only sigh.
If it were someone else enduring this torment, Perseus might've scoffed: Look at you, so pathetic, so desperate. If the enemy's unbeatable, why not give up? Find another way Ascendancy, maybe call in a big-shot hero for backup or beg the gods for a favor.
But this was Perseus herself.
And now she understood:
This is what it feels like to stand against fate.
No hero was coming to save her. The gods wouldn't lift a finger. When you defy destiny, the whole world turns against you.
All you can do is get up, grit your teeth, and swing.
Or accept your bad luck and let the blade fall.
This path… it's so damn unfair.
So utterly pointless.
Finally, battered to the ground once more, Perseus couldn't hold on any longer. She slipped into unconsciousness.
"But…"
A fleeting thought flickered through her mind before fading into the chaos.
Watching from afar, the Sphinx's expression softened, a hint of relief washing over her.
Good. Everything was going as planned. If Perseus could reignite that spark of defiance, there was hope to defeat the enemy of this Singularity. The Sphinx's week-long machinations hadn't been for nothing.
The reason she'd pushed time to the brink, letting Perseus wallow in despair until Kriemhild arrived, was because of that terrifying foe.
The larval form of Beast I/N, demonic name: Pavone. As an Arbiter, the Sphinx knew its true nature and, through riddles, had unraveled part of its power.
First, its Anti-Prophecy. A grand barrier that nullified fate, prophecies, and divinations—a power that doubled as a shackle. To treat destiny as nothing, Pavone sacrificed its eyes. To render prophecies silent, it gave up its ears. And to seize total control of the future, it abandoned its mind, becoming a beast with nothing but a demon king's title.
Now, Pavone was just a lump of flesh that could glimpse the future and dance to its instincts. That was the price of its arrogance.
If that makes it sound less terrifying, think again. As a Beast bearing the principle of Domination, even in its infantile state, it could dominate anyone tainted by its demonic aura. Once that black miasma touched you, you shared the cost of its pride.
If your will was weak, you'd lose your mind entirely, becoming its puppet.
If you were strong enough to resist, it'd strip away your hearing.
And if you were a saint, defiant to the core, you'd lose your sight.
That's why Nero saw Georgios with one eye—because she'd sacrificed the other to reclaim her vision, even with a holy sword that repelled evil.
So, the Sphinx had to make Perseus find her resolve again. Otherwise, she'd never be worthy of the final battlefield. And the perfect person to pull that off was Kriemhild.
Lucky for them, she delivered, just as the Sphinx had hoped.
The Sphinx turned her gaze away, ready to check on the town. She wasn't blind to the strange activity there, but with Georgios's movements under her watch, she didn't see it as a threat.
Then she heard Georgios's voice, spitting out news that shook her to her core.
"The seventh sun has fallen! It tricked us all!"
"What?!"
In that instant, the Sphinx's face drained of color, all her composure gone. She spread her pristine white wings and shot into the sky, racing toward the sun like a modern-day Icarus.
Sure enough, the closer she got to the heavens, the nearer the sun seemed to the earth. The reason hit her like a blade—time in the Singularity was warped! Outside Pavone's barrier, every other pocket of time had been slowed to a crawl.
This wasn't just magecraft—it was damn near magic, a feat so grand only one being in this Singularity could pull it off in her mind.
"Mephisto!!!"
"Oh? Oh? Looks like I've been found out."
Deep in that unobservable realm, a demon in a tuxedo tipped his top hat with a sly grin, flashing two sharp fangs.
"No matter." Beside him, a massive Demon God Pillar writhed, its voice a murky rumble.
That was Raum, the true architect of this Singularity, unlike Foras, who was out stalling the enemy. With the thousands of eyes on its body, it stared at a figure sleeping in the dark of night and said, "Three hours until sunrise. No one can stop the new king's birth now."
"So, you're saying you don't need me anymore?" Mephisto asked.
The nearest cluster of eyes swiveled toward him. "You're leaving?"
"I'm not like you lot, ready to die for some 'grand cause,'" Mephisto chuckled. "So, if you'll excuse me."
He tapped his cane on the ground and turned, strolling off into the night.
"What's your true name?" Raum called after him.
"Mephisto, of course. Didn't I tell you that already?"
The demon paused, glancing back with a cryptic smile before vanishing.
"Liar," Raum muttered as a farewell.
For a demon, a true name is their unchangeable essence. If summoned as a Heroic Spirit, that name becomes their Noble Phantasm. Raum, a Demon God, knew this better than anyone.
Yet, it had heard it clear as day—when Mephisto unleashed his Noble Phantasm, the name he shouted was Faust!
And if you thought about it, the name Mephisto was odd in itself. It meant "lightless one" and "liar"—a being "blind in the eyes, lies on the tongue." As a demon's true name, it was too generic, pointing to traits every demon shared.
This demon, brought here by Foras, wasn't worth trusting. That was Raum's verdict.
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