The Dual-Bladed Lance and Halberd Blade cross in the scorching air, their friction sparking dazzling starlight.
Creatures of flame and the deep sea watch this confrontation unfold from the depths of Hell.
You fool! Lustrous was right—even if you lived to be sixty, you'd still be blind to what's happening right in front of you!
So what! What's so wrong about wanting to hold onto what I can see right in front of me?!
The mermaid raises her Halberd Blade high. At that exact moment, you dart into the battlefield.
Bloodsworn!
A gunshot explodes, unleashing a bloody mist, and "Death" is quick to pull back, dodging the spray.
Witch Haida whips her tail, attempting to block the incoming assault, but the blood mist isn't deterred. It corrupts her fin, eating away at it as if by concentrated acid, leaving gaping holes.
Aaaaghhh—
The mermaid throws her head back, unleashing a piercing wail that echoes through the air.
You really think your foolishness can challenge our authority? Pathetic!
Seizing the moment, "Death" jams his Dual-Bladed Lance into the mermaid's exposed neck as she throws her head back.
The scene erupts into grotesque bloodshed—the lance tip nearly severs her head, but a bizarre healing ability triggers without warning. Flesh at the wound site begins to regenerate wildly, quickly wrapping itself around the embedded lance tip.
Tsk!
"Death" clicks her tongue in irritation and yanks the weapon free just before the regenerating flesh can fully consume it.
Witch Haida claws madly at her itching wound with all ten fingers, while her newly restored throat unleashes relentless, piercing shrieks.
This is not fair, NOT FAIR!
This is not fair! Two against one! Why do you always have backup?!
People used to care when I was hurting, but not anymore. Now you just gang up on me like this!
Witch Haida suddenly lunges forward—her movements raw and unrefined, yet pulsing with overwhelming force—and sinks her teeth into "Death's" blocking arm.
She bites down viciously, ripping a chunk of flesh from "Death's" blazing-hot body. The instant "Death" recoils in pain, she drives the blade of her halberd deep into "Death's" chest cavity.
HAHAHAHA—Well done, Lamia! You've got guts!
"Death" lets out a laugh, even as agony racks her body.
Don't worry—Demon Lords can't kill each other! I've been waiting for this moment a long time!
Back then, you fished my lost lighter out of the Acheron River and gave it back to me. I've owed you ever since.
And now—every grudge, every score... I'll settle them all! After this, we're even!
Black flames flare up along "Death's" shattered collarbone as she begins reconstructing her own body.
Bloodsworn!! Go back to your Chaos Gate Emissary!
In a brief lull in the ferocious battle, "Death" shouts at you.
Haida will never tell you how to safely extract that egg! Just rip it out! I'll take full responsibility for whatever happens!
There's no time to meddle in the destined duel between Demon Lords—more urgent matters demand immediate action.
Just as you step forward, an angel—missing everything but its left arm—suddenly grabs hold of your boot. A searing pain shoots up your leg.
Burning... hot...
Burn! Burn it all!
The blood bullet, marked with a cross, shatters into fragments the moment it leaves the barrel, obliterating the decaying corpse's head.
The battle axe fixed beneath the handguard slices cleanly through its neck, sending the rotting head tumbling across the floor, where it's instantly devoured by fierce flames.
With the threat neutralized, you rush toward the hall where you last saw the Chaos Gate Emissary.
What are you going to do?!
Witch Haida catches sight of your sudden movement—and in that split second of distraction, a Dual-Bladed Lance pierces her left shoulder.
Your target's right in front of you! Give it everything you've got!
The two sides clash again, locked in relentless combat—like a rabid wolf tearing into a mermaid, ripping fur and scales from each other as they roar through a storm of crimson blood.
Thick, viscous fluid mixed with shredded flesh fuels the roaring flames, feeding them until they burn hotter, spilling across the battlefield like molten magma.
As the fight hits a fever pitch, you don't hesitate. You break into a sprint, racing toward the place where the Chaos Gate Emissary and the Heterogeneous Egg are located.
The egg containing the girl floats suspended within a barrier—strangely serene, untouched by the chaos of slaughter that rages all around.
The gun-axe's blade punctures the tangled umbilical structure at the girl's chest, cutting with just enough force to separate her from the Omega Egg without harming her body.
The grotesque umbilical cord instantly shrivels, snapping apart and peeling away from the girl's pale skin.
She tumbles from the warped "branches"—but you catch her firmly. Her eyes flutter open to narrow slits.
Ugh... light... too bright.
Fire... and the smell of blood.
She sniffs the air, calmly taking in the scene before her.
It's dangerous.
She instinctively tries to stand, but you steady her.
At that very moment, a wave of heat—hot enough to sear flesh—slices across your arm.
You glance up. A thin crack is slowly widening along the surface of the Omega Egg—now cut off from its nutrient supply thanks to your intervention. Thick red fluid begins to ooze out, trickling down onto your arm.
The sharp crack of splintering glass reaches your ears. Nearby, both warring sides take notice of the strange sight.
All fighting halts. For one breathless moment, everyone watches as the grotesque egg begins to collapse inward.
Unnameable crimson matter churns and writhes inside, pressing against the eggshell. Hairline fractures rapidly spread across its fragile, translucent surface—until a breach finally rips open.
A forbidden weapon, stolen once by the Sanctuary. Known in the Valley of Ash Scrolls as the Genesis Egg... or the Terminus Egg—
Through your cry, the truth becomes undeniable—the Omega Egg has reached full term. It's hatching in real time.
No way... How could it hatch prematurely?
Witch Haida freezes in shock, eyes wide with disbelief.
In the next instant, the eggshell explodes. A wave of crimson liquid erupts from within, surging outward.
Out of the way! Don't just stand there like a bump on a log!
You snatch up the Chaos Gate Emissary and leap backward just as "Death" steps in front of you, slamming her Dual-Bladed Lance into the ground.
The crimson torrent rushes forward, splits on impact with the lance, and surges to both sides, flooding through cracks in the earth and quickly engulfing your boots.
Pain shoots up through the soles of your feet as the crimson liquid begins to eat away at your flesh.
A flood!
The great flood!
Of course I know that!
"Death" grits her teeth, standing firm. Undying flames erupt across her body as she battles desperately against the oncoming tide, refusing to retreat even an inch.
I figured it out the moment that stupid fish started talking. This so-called "Omega Egg"... it's bait—bait planted by the Sanctuary.
And now it's obvious. Inside that so-called "Omega Egg" was exactly what I feared—a flood powerful enough to drown all of Hell, straight from the Sanctuary!
It's like a ticking time bomb! A last resort from the Sanctuary to keep the Hell witches from ever rising again...
"Death" doesn't even glance back at Witch Haida. Every ounce of her strength is focused on holding the crimson flood at bay, preventing it from completing its mission of annihilating Hell.
No... what gives you the right?
Watching "Death" charge ahead to hold back the flood, Haida stands frozen in place.
Vera... why do you always do this?
Why do all of you always do this?
In "Death", she sees countless figures—silhouettes of those who've stepped into danger without hesitation. For a fleeting moment, the weight of that unfairness bears down on her more than ever.
But now, that sense of injustice isn't driven by resentment or envy—only quiet resignation remains.
She whispers—
Why did Hell grant such courage and resolve to everyone from Atlantis... but not even a shred to me?
She lets out a long, weary sigh, as if mourning her own cowardice and frailty.
Then, as if "Death" can hear her thoughts—and is suddenly enraged by them—she bellows in fury.
You think you're the only one who's timid and weak? The only one eaten alive by obsession, trapped in the Acheron River?!
With her roar, the flood released from the Omega Egg surges into towering waves, crashing down on everything in sight and shattering the walls of Atlantis.
"Death" stands at the front line, her flesh melting away in the corrosive crimson tide—
Yet the curse of immortality binds her still. Even as she's reduced to bare bones, her mind remains anchored—conscious, present, enduring.
Before the calamity struck, she—much like Witch Haida—had also questioned why everyone around her was so willing to throw their lives away.
She remembers how it all started so mundanely—just another routine day aboard the Hell Train.
That day, she pushed open the doors to the chambers of the Ferryman—Lustrous, the previous bearer of the title.
Your Lordship, I've spent another full day overseeing train operations... I was hoping for some kind of reward.
Oh? Is that Mammon you're holding? For me?
Lustrous turns the golden Mammon coin over in her fingers.
This is currency from the human world.
She lets the shimmering metal drop onto the table. The dull, heavy thud it makes says more about its value than words ever could.
The humans want to ally with demons to fight the Supreme Heaven and launch an assault on the Sanctuary.
...
Humans are nothing but greedy, lying creatures. We should just ignore them.
Perhaps cooperation is a necessary part of the plan. The Death Lord seems to believe so for now.
Vera leans forward slightly. After hearing the Ferryman's words clearly, she pauses for two seconds of silent contemplation.
Then... I need to reassess your position before deciding how to respond. Your Lordship—are you informing me of this, or are you inviting my input?
This is essentially a notification. But don't worry about the Death Lord influencing my decisions—if I disagreed, I'd veto the Death Lord on the spot.
...
Since the decision's already been made, when do you leave? For the Sanctuary.
Three days later.
No objections. Not that my opinion matters—I'm just a guard who follows orders.
Vera places the Hell recruitment list for the day on the desk and turns to leave.
But as she reaches the doorway, she suddenly stops. Straightening her posture, she turns back and looks directly at the Ferryman.
Isn't life in Atlantis good enough as it is?
In the mortal realm, humans and demons are age-old enemies, locked in endless war. But after I died in that absurd human conflict... it was you... It was the demons of Atlantis who salvaged me.
From the moment I arrived in Atlantis, I knew this place was different from the rest of Hell.
There are no natural disasters here, no endless daily battles. And we even get to watch those humans live and die, over and over—a perfect cure for boredom.
I can say this with certainty: this is a pure land.
Aurora and Noctis got their prosthetics here. I found the meaning of a steady, peaceful life. Even Lamia—that kid's had everything she ever wanted. She's living what anyone would call a perfect, happy childhood.
So why throw all this away? Why walk straight into a world of danger and deceit?
...
Vera takes a step forward.
Maybe Atlantis, under your leadership, really is different from the rest of Hell. Maybe you've forged new ideals, new ways of thinking. But ideals like that—they don't belong in Hell. They're fundamentally incompatible with its nature.
What if the Death Lord only intends to use those "insects" as stepping stones—building a path of corpses to ascend higher and strike down the Cardinal Deity of the Sanctuary? What if we, the people of Atlantis, are just those disposable "insects," meant to be crushed beneath his feet?
Ferryman, I hope you'll reconsider—is this really the right choice?
Instead of answering, the Ferryman replies with a question of her own.
Vera.
Have you ever, even once, considered how many deaths in this world are utterly meaningless?
What?
The Ferryman has always been level-headed and pragmatic—focused on results, never on sentiment. This is the first time she's ever asked a question so philosophical, so abstract. That's what catches Vera off guard.
Let me put it another way. Right now, countless deaths in the mortal realm are completely senseless. Yours was no exception, Vera.
At that, Vera suddenly remembers the white light she saw in the moment after her death—how it coldly declared a single word to her: "Foolish."
...
She recalls the noble banner she once gripped tightly in her hands... How she was always the one charging ahead at the front line, leading her troops into battle, and cutting down enemies amid the roar of clashing steel.
She hears the enemy's arrows slicing through the air, shrieking as they come hurtling toward them.
She collapses in a field of fertile wheat—its soil soaked with human blood, the ground beneath her now nothing but thick, clinging mud.
Even in that final moment before death, she can't help but wonder—
We didn't face natural disasters. We didn't have to fight just to survive.
So what were we really dying for?
For that worthless patch of alkali land? For the Sanctuary's dominance? For the glory of the noble Sovereign? Just so I could eat two corn flatbread a day?
Just to have one corn flatbread with every meal?
No one should die for a corn flatbread, Vera.
The Ferryman's voice pulls Vera out of her thoughts.
Demons need freedom. And so do humans.
Freedom that allows every soul to awaken—from under the control of the Supreme Heaven.
...
I... I've never seen anything like that before.
Vera opens her mouth and slowly asks the same question that Lamia will one day ask in the future.
Is this really what you and your people are striving for?
Yes.
Humans and demons have been hurting and killing each other for generations. Atlantis is full of demons who were once human. No one understands this longing better than the demons of Atlantis.
Aren't you worried? What if the Death Lord wants more? What if the humans turn on us? What if...
We're worried, but we don't have the luxury of hesitation.
We have to act. Let's see how long the obstacles can hold us back, and how far we can push forward.
If we fail, then Atlantis must endure. Wait a few hundred years... maybe just a few decades. New ideological tides will rise again.
The Ferryman says no more. This has already been the longest conversation she's ever had with a subordinate.
She rises and begins handing Vera her personal belongings, one item at a time.
I need to keep someone out of the storm—send Lamia away.
Tell her the Death Lord has named her the new Demon Lord of Hell's frontier—and she must leave for her turf without delay.
This is clearly favoritism, not some grand plan to preserve a spark for the future.
No. Her role ties to an unconfirmed prophecy. She needs to be kept away from the battle that starts in three days.
What do you mean? You're saying that airhead actually has some special significance?
The Ferryman waves her hand dismissively, offering no more explanation.
Either way, have her weigh anchor and depart immediately. She doesn't need to bring back any good news.
Three days from now, I'll lead our forces to the Sanctuary. I'll leave you with a team you know and trust.
The twentieth Chaos Gate Emissary will accompany us, ripping open the arcane gateway to the Sanctuary. Aurora will become the next Emissary—we'll call her No. 21.
If something happens to us, you must eat my finger bone, inherit Atlantis, become its new Sovereign, and keep the Hell Train running smoothly.
I've fought in countless battles. I'm the best choice for the front lines.
You're not the best choice for battle. You're the best choice to inherit the mantle of life and death.
Listen, Vera.
<i>You must risk everything again and again, carrying the will of all who came before.</i>
<i>You must take root in Hell itself, fighting desperately to make sure every soul dies with dignity.</i>
This is the path the next Ferryman must walk.
Ancient memories from Atlantis cut through Vera's mind.
Thirty years ago, after the cataclysm, she wandered the war-torn ruins of the Sanctuary and picked up a broken finger bone.
She held it before her eyes, studied it for a moment, and then ate it.
In that instant, countless humans who fell in blood-soaked wheat fields seemed to cry out to her—
Supreme Heaven! You show no mercy!
At the same time, souls trapped in the Acheron River roared in defiance—
Is this what you all fought and died for?!
Is this the banner I pledged myself to?!
She raised the banner—not one begging the Supreme Heaven for mercy anymore, but the great banner of Hell itself, the emblem of death incarnate.
Thirty years later, deep beneath Atlantis, the corrosive waters from the false "Omega Egg" relentlessly wash over "Death's" skeleton, only hardening her iron bones further.
Standing firm at the crest of the wave, she shouts fiercely at Witch Haida.
My one and only purpose in battle has always been victory! And then, to bend everything to my will!
But this is Atlantis! There's no room for pointless extinctions here!
There are far more deserving of annihilation than you or I—like those parasites nestled comfortably in the Sanctuary, who've done nothing but watch this whole conflict unfold from start to finish!
And others deserve to keep living full lives—like those soldiers brave enough to resist the Iron Army's internal strife, that fearless girl in the tavern, the kind-hearted elders...
Good people shouldn't die young, but their fates are sealed by the Supreme Heaven and the Sanctuary—and just look how they've judged them!
Tell me—doesn't the Supreme Heaven deserve to perish?!
A burst of flames suddenly erupted from "Death's" chest, astonishingly blazing fiercely against the flood pouring from the "Omega Egg."
Flames spread relentlessly, swallowing "Death's" entire body, reshaping her flesh and form.
She cries out.
The Supreme Heaven is heartless—treating all beings like nothing more than sacrificial offerings!
And I, as Hell's new Ferryman—
I return ashes to ashes, dust to dust. I send what belongs to the mortal realm back to the mortal realm, and what belongs to hell back to hell. Every soul deserves to die with dignity.
This has always been the natural order, but the Supreme Heaven and the Sanctuary have twisted it for far too long. I will set the law right again!
This is what generations of Atlantis tribes have sacrificed everything for!
She draws her Dual-Bladed Lance, its faint echo carrying the cries of countless Hell spirits.
Lamia, you've always wanted to see what people are willing to be utterly destroyed for and what they'll sink into oblivion for, haven't you?
You must wonder... is it Mammon? The stars? The ocean? The favor of the Supreme Heaven? The Army of Death? Or something else entirely...
Then she thrusts the lance deep into the fish tail of Witch Haida, who's been standing idly nearby.
You should see this for yourself! Stop trying to revere and speculate about their answers.
Witch Haida doesn't cry out in pain; she only stares blankly at the flame standing amidst the flood.
Think about where your fish tail actually came from. This is everyone's way of helping you see the truth.
...
Return to the sea, Lamia. Go to the waters that belong to you.
Then... what about you...
I need to take the Emissary and leave, then join the Bloodsworn to campaign against the Sanctuary and storm the Supreme Heaven.
If you find your answer and still choose to stand in my way...
I'll see you as a lapdog of the Sanctuary—and I'll take you down along with them.
Vera—
Now go.
With a flex of her brawny arms, "Death", under the mermaid's piercing gaze, effortlessly scoops her up with her Dual-Bladed Lance. In one swift motion, she hurls the mermaid into the churning torrent of destruction.
The mermaid drifts away with the current, her tail giving a final, small slap against the water's surface.
"Death" has set her free, sentencing her to endure the torment of "seeking truth in all directions."
Afterward, "Death" spins around, her eyes fixed on another figure standing unyieldingly amidst the raging waters.
You clutch the 21st Chaos Gate Emissary close, waiting for "Death" to end this conflict.
I never wanted you to get so mixed up in Hell's internal affairs, but you came all this way with me. Thank you.
The situation's grim. This mysterious "Omega Egg" hatched, just as we feared, and it's pulling the sacred flood from the Supreme Heaven to destroy Hell.
Oh? Looks like you've read my mind again.
"Death" struggles upstream, pushing against the torrent blasting from the Omega Egg, steadily getting closer.
I've known my path for a long time now... My destiny is to live forever, to drink down every drop of suffering this world can dish out.
And that's perfectly fine, isn't it?
She battles through the turmoil, her fingers finally brushing against the Omega Egg at the heart of the storm.
You've given me a pale horse, power over death itself, and a form that will never break, never truly die.
Then let me be its cage. It will gnaw at my flesh endlessly, and I'll hold it in check, without a moment's reprieve.
She cradles the Omega Egg in her hands, turns back one last time, and offers you a smile of quiet acceptance.
It's not just about taking on a source of pain. I bear the same burden for all of you.
I've made a pact to stand with you and the other three Knights against the Sanctuary. If we fall, I'll swallow your remains and wait another thirty years... there will always be another thirty years.
See? This is the true face of immortality—a never-ending sentence of suffering.
She tilts her head back and swallows the Omega Egg, just as she had eaten the finger bones of the previous Ferryman three decades earlier.
The raging torrent instantly freezes, then, as if time is rewinding, every drop surges back toward the whirlpool's center.
"Death" stands at the heart of it, mouth slightly agape, letting the all-consuming flood wash over her. Every inch of her bone and skin corrupts and reforms, only to be destroyed again.
In mere seconds, this cycle of destruction and rebirth repeats countless times.
Hahahaha... it hurts so much.
Amidst her endless torment, she reaches out toward you—
You step forward, grasping her continuously fracturing fingertips.
The Blood Covenant takes immediate effect, and the flame in "Death's" chest stubbornly reignites.
The flame burns brighter and stronger, while the raging flood diminishes to a mere stream.
Vera's gaze drifts past Atlantis.
Her gaze settles on the Valley of Ash and then sweeps across the entirety of Hell itself.
Her eyes climb higher, tracing the path to the Scorched Borderland, and beyond that, to the Sanctuary, reaching all the way to the Supreme Heaven.
Her crimson hair, now a fiery halo, rose and dissolved into the very flames of "death."
I can no longer grant life to those who deserve it.
But as for those wretched beasts clinging to life, though they deserve only death...
"Go forth now, and carry this pain with you."
"To the Sanctuary, to the Supreme Heaven!"
Having fully embraced her suffering, "Death" lowers her stance, raising her Dual-Bladed Lance once more, its tip aimed squarely at the heavens.
She is a paradox embodied: living, burning, loving, killing—a creature of endless suffering and ultimate fulfillment.
The flames above the abyss rage and churn, an inferno without end.
What was meant to decay would now be incorruptible; what died and rose again would forever be called immortal.
