Somewhere in the Catacombs of Wind, 13 days later.
Nero sat in a chair, watching a dozen purple ants.
"One... two... five... seven..."
He counted them one by one, his face drawn with exhaustion, boredom, and above all, fear.
These ants were going in and out of one of the openings in the walls.
They're purple... how strange.
Nero reflected for a moment on the ants' incredible strength.
He knew that ants could carry up to 100 times their own weight, but since they weighed so little, it wasn't anything serious or worrisome.
But... what would happen if a human had that ability?
Well, for Nero, having that kind of ability was useless. You have a lot of strength, but why would you want so much?
Nero leaned back in his chair a little further and stretched out his arms, letting the emptiness embrace them.
I prefer abilities like creating illusions or generating fire... he thought.
"Wait... why are they purple? Do they bite harder than usual? Or are they poisonous?"
Nero realized he was talking to thin air.
I'm bored... where could they be?
A few hours ago, he'd sent his group to work, while he was supposedly sick.
The truth was, Nero had only stayed behind to refine his escape plan.
Alright, let's recap... he thought, trying to distract himself.
First, we'll go to the armory where our weapons are.
Second, we'll explore all the catacombs, searching for Zephyr's old body.
Third, we kill Reveli.
Fourth, we purify Zephyr's fragment.
Fifth, we leave.
Nero felt restless, as if something were slipping away from him. He shifted frantically, making the chair sway.
He stood up and started walking toward the bathroom. He opened the door and practically ran to the faucet.
He splashed water on his face, trying to wash away that strange feeling.
He looked up and saw his reflection. What he saw chilled him to the bone...
It wasn't Nero; it was someone who resembled Nero and Rose. Red eyes and black hair. This person was a man, and by Nero's masculine standards, he was incredibly handsome.
Nero took two steps back, his heart pounding erratically.
Nero's 'reflection' began to emerge from the mirror. The mirror didn't break, it didn't even crack; this thing simply passed right through it.
The strange man touched the floor, grinning from ear to ear.
Nero took two steps back fearfully, his pupils narrowing and his face turning calculating as he tried to figure out who or what this person was.
The strange man noticed the cold expression on Nero's face.
"Hello," he said with a hint of cheerfulness.
That voice... Nero thought, unsettled.
Nero had heard that voice before—someone very dangerous, powerful, and above all, mysterious... Mistaker.
"Mist... Mistaker?"
Mistaker raised an eyebrow and looked at Nero with interest. He thought for a moment before saying,
"Um... how do you recognize me?"
Nero swallowed.
"I suppose your voice is recognizable, isn't it? Besides, you always have that mysterious tone."
Mistaker let out a low laugh.
It wasn't loud or exaggerated.
It was light, almost amused.
And yet, Nero's skin prickled.
It wasn't the laughter of someone happy.
It was the laughter of someone who knew something.
"Heh..."
The sound echoed in the stone bath as if the walls were repeating it a second later.
Mistaker leaned his shoulder against the catacomb wall, crossing his arms with absolute tranquility. He smiled naturally, as if he hadn't just stepped out of a mirror.
"My mysterious tone?" he repeated, amused.
"Oof… that hurts a little. I thought it was charming."
Nero didn't reply. His mind raced.
What does he want from me? Does he want to kill me? Not if he had wanted to, I wouldn't be breathing.
Mistaker tilted his head, observing him with genuine attention, like someone examining an interesting work of art.
"Relax," he said lightly. "If I had come to kill you… you'd already be dead."
Reading my mind again?
Nero gritted his teeth.
"That doesn't reassure me," he replied, his voice tense.
Mistaker laughed again, a little more clearly this time. Again, something funny. Again, something that shouldn't be funny.
"Oh, come on," he said, stepping away from the wall and taking a couple of slow steps toward him.
"You'd disappoint me if you trusted me so quickly."
Nero took a step back without realizing it.
Mistaker stopped immediately.
"Ah," he commented, pointing at him. "That. That distance. Very well done."
Nero frowned.
"What do you want?" he asked bluntly.
Mistaker raised both hands dramatically.
"Want? Many things. But coming here…" he lowered his voice, smiling slightly,
"…it was more out of curiosity."
His red eyes gleamed faintly in the dim light.
"I wanted to see you with my own eyes."
Nero felt a chill.
"See me… why?"
Mistaker watched him for a few seconds in silence.
Too many.
Then he spoke.
"Because you're about to make a mistake."
Nero tensed completely.
"Which one?"
Mistaker leaned his back against the stone wall again, calmly crossing one leg.
"Believing your plan is complete."
Nero's heart leapt.
Mistaker snapped his fingers.
"Weapons. Catacombs. Zephyr's body. Reveli. Fragment. Exit."
He smiled.
"Nice list."
Nero felt as if someone had plunged ice down his spine.
"How do you know that?"
Mistaker shrugged.
"Let's just say interesting plans make noise."
He leaned forward slightly.
"And yours... screams."
Nero took a deep breath, forcing himself to remain calm.
"If you came here just to mock me," he said coldly, "you can go back the way you came."
Mistaker chuckled softly.
"Go back to the mirror? I could…" he murmured.
"But it would be rude to leave without warning you."
His eyes locked onto Nero's.
"There's a sixth step."
Nero frowned.
"I only have five."
Mistaker smiled more broadly.
"Exactly."
The silence fell heavily.
Mistaker spoke one last time, his tone almost gentle:
"If you don't figure it out soon… you won't get out of these catacombs."
The silence grew gradually, only to become as awkward as a party with just two people.
Mistaker smiled, remembering something.
"He's also come to ask you a favor."
Nero swallowed, knowing that doing so many favors for a god is wrong.
"Kill Lux, Kōri, Sunday, and Merlin."
The silence turned cold.
The air seemed to slow, as if it had paused to watch a magic show.
Nero's expression darkened, as if he had heard a horrible blasphemy… but the blasphemy was directed at himself.
"What?" he said, tilting his head.
His hands were trembling, his heart was playing an erratic tune in his chest, and he was sweating profusely.
Mistaker noticed Nero's cold, dark reaction.
"Kill them..."
Mistaker leaned back against the wall and snapped his fingers, as if Nero were a butler, or worse... a slave or a puppet.
Nero, his ego wounded—almost dead—glared at Mistaker with icy rage.
"Do you really think I'll do it?"
"If you don't... I will."
That set off all the red alarms in Nero's mind.
The mortal grabbed Mistaker's shoulder and shoved him hard into the center of the gray stone room.
Mistaker wasn't surprised. He just smiled, remaining straight and unmoving.
Nero pressed the god of errors' back against the wall. He pressed his forearm against Mistaker's neck.
They both remained silent.
"Y-yes..." Nero murmured. "If you say that again, I'll kill you."
Mistaker's smile grew colder, more calculating.
Nero didn't realize when or how, he only blinked once... and he was already on the ground.
Mistaker delivered a brutal kick to his ribs, the kind that knocks the wind out of him.
The red-eyed mortal writhed, vomiting thick blood.
Mistaker muttered something Nero couldn't hear.
Suddenly, the blood disappeared, Nero's body recovered, and his scars—both new and old—regenerated.
What the hell...? Nero thought.
Mistaker approached the mortal with a look of utter annoyance. He crouched down to his eye level and said in a dry voice:
"Get up..."
The god of rifts stood up again and stared at Nero with cold eyes.
The mortal jumped up, fear still lingering.
Mistaker smiled again.
"Ugh..." he sighed wearily. "Kill me."
Nero felt even colder than before.
Mistaker raised his hand and snapped his fingers. A sharp, powerful knife, imbued with hidden secrets, flew through the air and was caught by the god.
Mistaker moved closer to the paralyzed Nero.
He dropped the knife into Nero's trembling hands.
Nero felt his clothes melt into his skin.
Nero raised his head and looked at the god with an expression that said one word: "What?"
Mistaker let out a short laugh.
He smiled calmly, as if explaining something logical to a naive child.
"Kill me. Stab my neck."
What? Is this a trap?
Nero slowly raised the knife, aiming it at the god's neck.
He approached with slow steps, the knife stopping centimeters from the divine skin.
The mortal took a deep breath.
He raised the knife and tore the skin of the god of the rifts.
Nero expected blood, a metallic smell, flesh, and disgusting sounds, but...
Cling! Clank!
A metallic sound echoed through the stone room.
Nero pulled the knife away and looked inside the neck of that divine being.
"What the hell?"
Mistaker grinned from ear to ear.
Inside, there was no blood, no veins, not even flesh.
There were only endless lines of black threads, neat and clean. But what terrified Nero wasn't all of that; what terrified him was that the threads pulsed like veins.
There were also light gold-colored gears. These functioned as the body's bones. They rotated, clicking against each other, generating metallic sounds.
Mistaker snatched the knife from Nero's hand and traced a path from his chest to his stomach, tearing his shirt in the process.
Upon seeing the inside of the god, Nero realized it was nothing more than a bizarre factory.
"What are you?" the mortal asked, fascinated and disgusted at the same time.
Mistaker remained silent for a few seconds.
"I am a puppet of myself. I have my face and my body, but not my full power."
He pouted slightly.
"He's my weakest puppet, he's only rank 9!"
He says rank 9 so casually... Nero thought, blinking, completely lost in the conversation.
Mistaker's wounds regenerated, along with his beautiful attire.
He sighed and said with cold satisfaction:
"The truth is, I came to mock you..."
Nero opened his mouth to say something, but couldn't make a sound... something stopped him.
"Goodbye."
Suddenly, Nero appeared in the stone chair.
The purple ants kept going in and out of the crack in the wall, as if it were a loop.
Was that a dream, a nightmare, or... an illusion?
Nero's lips curled upwards.
Wow... Mistaker's powers are incredible.