<size=40>On the day she becomes a demon, Vera first touches the laws that govern the world.</size>
<size=40>The sacred light of the Supreme Heaven refuses to shelter her, yet the darkness of Hell takes her into its embrace.</size>
That day, she watches as the steam-billowing train thunderously opens its doors before her.
A demon dressed in pristine white clothing, without a speck of dust, stands at the entrance, staring at her with cold indifference.
After a long silence, the demon finally utters two sentences.
Fool.
Stitch her up and get her into the third-class carriage.
This is Vera's first ride on the Hell Train. She traces the jagged scars near her collarbone, still reeling from what went down.
Gwynneth isn't on this Hell-bound express, but Aurora's slumped across Vera's lap, her hands freshly reattached by Cerberus.
A few new spirits are dotted around the carriage, all just staring into space.
Vera's fingers brush the rough stitches, the coarse thread pricking her skin, and that's when it finally hits her: she's dead.
I'm dead.
My sins were heavy, so here I am, stuck as a demon in the third-class carriage.
She stares out the window as the train chugs along for a bit before grinding to a halt. The guards yank open the doors, revealing the same wheat field she'd seen before.
Under the watchful eye of the blonde Ferryman, guards haul in more fresh spirits, all victims of a recent war.
There was an explosion here, my lord! Lots of them are in pieces, can't even be put back together right.
And there's... a pregnant woman.
A mangled corpse, its swollen belly ripped open by a gaping hole, is unceremoniously tossed in front of Vera's seat.
The Ferryman slips on pure white gloves, reaches into the hole, and pulls out an unformed female infant.
Just another stupid polymer.
She stares at the stillborn, which is missing its lower limbs, shakes her head, and casually tosses it out of the carriage. The tiny body gradually becomes a black speck before it vanishes from Vera's sight.
Noticing Vera's frown, the Ferryman adds an explanation.
Thrown from here, that infant will fall directly into the Acheron River, where she'll find a less stupid mother for her next life.
When she's old and gray, she'll be queuing up for this crossing too—just like this one here.
The Ferryman then pulls up an elderly woman, her body layered with wrinkles accumulated through time.
The guards placed you in the wrong carriage. You belong in first class.
The Ferryman scrutinizes the old woman's entire life.
You lived to a hundred, and over those hundred years, your sins and virtues achieved perfect balance.
Yours was a remarkable life. Hell has no claim on you. You may depart directly and return to the mortal realm.
The elderly woman totters shakily to the doorway, only to be unceremoniously kicked out by the Ferryman.
Just like the centenarian, Vera watches as demons are kicked one by one into the Acheron River.
They plunge into the river's dark depths, and soon, from the other side of those waters, the cries of newborn infants can be heard.
...
Vera watches life and death unfold for countless mortals from inside the circular train.
She realizes the Laws of Life and Death are like a train on a continuous loop, its beginning and end forever intertwined.
Even if she were to hop off the back, she'd inevitably come face-to-face with that steam-belching locomotive again someday.
So, when the Ferryman approaches her, Vera gets a word in first.
I'm not looking to be tossed into that river. I want to set up shop in Hell permanently.
The Ferryman locks eyes with her.
Sounds like you've taken a shine to the Laws of Life and Death.
From now on, you'll be joining the guard unit and coming with me every day to pick up and process departed souls, seeing their whole life-and-death cycle firsthand. Think you can do it?
I can, and I don't need any corn flatbread.
You're a chip off the old block, just like those Atlantean numbskulls. Come on.
As Vera carries Aurora on her back and follows the Ferryman, a demon guard comes up to report a little accident they just saw.
That stillborn we just sent down... she couldn't make it through the Acheron River to get back to the mortal realm.
Was she too weak and just swallowed up by the Acheron River?
No, we figure she's what you'd call an "unformed soul" under the laws of life and death. See, she never really developed into a person before she was born, so technically, she never died. That means she can't exactly cross the Acheron River to be reborn.
So, did you fish her out of the river then?
Not exactly... she's, uh, still floating in the river. She doesn't have any legs, and we're not quite sure how she stays afloat, but honestly, she looks pretty happy.
Just give her a fishtail and let her keep floating, then. We've got our hands full with enough numbskulls from Atlantis as it is; I don't need another bawling baby to deal with every day.
But... I don't think that's really appropriate.
Look, whoever's feeling extra responsible can take her on. If you want to look after her, just make sure it doesn't mess with your other duties.
Bring her to me when she proves her worth.
Yes... understood!
Lamia never really got to experience life or death. The moment she became a demon, she was swept directly into the laws that govern how the world works.
She was never born, and she had never let out that first cry of life.
The instant her eyes opens, she is staring at the landscape of Hell itself—the Acheron River, swallowing every soul, its currents surging as they carry them to the other side.
Even with the demons of Atlantis taking her in—pulling her from the river, giving her legs, and raising her within their demon fortress—she often finds herself by the window, fixated on the river that hugs the fortress walls.
It's her daily ritual: watching souls tumble from the train into the river, drifting down and out of sight as they begin their new existence.
The tiny demon of Hell lies by that window, slowly shedding her river sprite form until she finally starts to look human.
One day, she's led by the hand, stumbling into a deep chamber within Atlantis.
I hear you spend every day by the window, watching the Acheron River, even taking a dip now and then. After all these years of this behavior, I want to hear what you make of it.
My lord...?
Lamia glances up at the guard who brought her in, a silent plea for help in her eyes.
Don't make me repeat myself. I'm pretty sure your hearing is just fine.
I'm sorry, my lord. It's a very nice river.
Everyone jumps into the river and then swims away. Some even come back after a few years and jump again, leaving a lot behind...
You're completely missing the point.
The Ferryman turns to the guard.
She's been staring at the Acheron River forever, but she still can't wrap her head around the cycle of life and death. She's a complete idiot.
My lord, maybe she's just too young to get what death and separation mean right now.
"What death and separation mean?"
Lamia repeats those words, trying to make sense of them. But the Ferryman has no time for what he sees as utter nonsense and gestures for the guard to haul her away.
Atlantis has no use for a demon who only knows how to knock things over. Get her out of here. Given her intelligence, I decree she's only to be brought back for examination when she looks to be 60 years old.
Y-yes...
The guard reaches for Lamia's hand, ready to lead her away, but she suddenly yanks free and shoves her hand into her pocket.
Then, with a bunch of clinking and clattering, she pulls out a ton of stuff.
A silver lighter, a marble with clouds swirling inside, a pen that's seen better days, a coffee mug with a chipped rim...
She carefully sorts through everything in front of the two demons, picks out three items, and cups them in her palm. She lifts her hands high, offering them to the Ferryman.
Acheron River, good call. Everyone comes and goes, but the Acheron River keeps things on the down low for us.
They say you're... the "lord." The best treasures are supposed to go to you.
...
The Ferryman's eyes lock onto the three "treasures" in her palm, and she falls silent for a moment.
Finally, the Ferryman reaches out, taking the pen that was once hers and the lighter that belonged to a subordinate. But she pointedly leaves the yellowed, damaged photograph with Lamia.
The woman's face in the photo is too faded to make out, yet Lamia vaguely senses a connection to it.
Keep the photograph for yourself. And stop collecting junk from the river.
Lamia can barely contain her excitement, tucking the photograph back against her chest, thrilled that the Ferryman didn't take the most precious treasure.
Take her with you.
Yes!
This little skirmish won't even ruffle Lamia's feathers.
She follows the guard out of the Ferryman's room, offering a soft greeting to every demon working for Atlantis she passes in the hallway.
Among them are the red-haired, rather grumpy Vera; Noctis, who always breezes by with a smile; and Aurora, who circles, sniffing her every time they meet.
Soon, she has everything her heart desires—cookies and coffee from the human world, even corn flatbread that Vera can't stand the sight of.
Hell's warm firelight illuminates every face that shows her kindness. They gather around her, always providing the most satisfying answers (except for Vera, of course).
She adores this life, and that river is just as wonderful. Simply being is enough for her.
She treats "death and separation" as things she never needs to comprehend, immediately casting them from her mind and into the Acheron River.
In a future Lamia can't possibly foresee, deep beneath the demon fortress of Atlantis, you and "Death" have already cut down countless angels.
Your breathing comes in ragged gasps, each step feeling heavier than the last.
The further you go, the more this invisible weight seems to bear down on your shoulders.
Grrrrr—
Watch out! Ambush!
As "Death" cuts down the last angel in your path, the way ahead suddenly opens up—the grand hall beneath Atlantis appears before your very eyes.
After your eyes adjust, you finally gets a good look at this hidden place.
The secret chamber before you is far more vast than imagined, with stone pillars and cast iron structures supporting a space that towers a hundred meters high.
Umbilical-like structures writhe across the floor, coated in crimson, viscous fluid, tangling, encircling, and expanding as they connect countless mutilated demon corpses.
And all these "umbilical cords" ultimately lead toward the center of the hall.
Tsk! Gate Emissary!
In the center of the hall, a small, thin figure perches on the "tree."
A white egg is deeply embedded in her chest, beating like a heart and pumping more fluid into the surrounding umbilical cords.
Her eyes stay closed, and her head hangs low, yet as if sensing intruders, she slowly raises her sharp claws while unconsciously mumbling under her breath.
All that have flesh, all that breathe... all that move upon the earth, all that wander between heaven and earth...
All must die.
BZZZZT—
Suddenly, another "arcane gate"—a new rift—tears open right before you, courtesy of the Chaos Gate Emissary. A fresh wave of angels spills forth from the jagged crack, lunging frantically in your direction.
They're grotesque, too—no eyes, no noses, just bloody, fanged maws that snap open and shut, shrieking madly at you and the knight.
So this is where the angels are being summoned! Haida's been using the Emissary's arcane gates to do all this—just as I suspected!
The thing controlling the Gate Emissary is called the "Omega Egg"—the very first egg to emerge from the Scroll of the Valley of Ash. It's a weapon of pure devastation, and the Sanctuary confiscated it.
I don't know why Haida stole it from the Sanctuary, but if it involves the Emissary... well, don't blame me for making sure it's destroyed.
Absolutely, I get it!
"Death" charges the Gate Emissary at the center, deftly sidestepping the umbilical cords strewn across the ground.
Meanwhile, you pivot, aiming your gun back the way you came, eyes peeled for any trouble.
The one who tied the knot should be the one to undo it...
Obviously, I'm going to smoke out the troublemaker and make them clean up their own mess!
Vera lets out a cold laugh, her eyes flicking toward the floor-to-ceiling windows at the end of the hall.
She raises her weapon, flames erupting along the lance—this knight, her fighting will rekindled, is the only sure source of fire in this place.
Come out now!
This is her turf, and her authority is beyond question.
The figure lurking in the corner finally comes into view, illuminated by "Death's" radiance.
This... this is impossible!
Yeeee Ahh! Stay away from me!
The mermaid's face contorts in disbelief as she lets out a scream as piercing as an angel's.
She frantically checks "Death's" expression, then glances at the egg attached to the Gate Emissary's body before flicking her tail and beating a hasty retreat into the depths.
Go after them!
