Heed My Word
The entire City of No Return shudders violently as furnace fires rage and golden sparks fly. The thunderous exchange of projectiles transforms this place into a brilliant arena.
Amid a thunderous explosion, the Devil King grips her Moon Umbrella and leaps back, its razor-sharp tip gouging a deep furrow in the ground. The impact nearly drives the umbrella's ribs like spikes into the stone.
Impressive, Gray Raven! Only someone with power like this is worthy of me betting my loyalty!
"Mammon" wipes blood from her mouth and rises with defiant laughter, while you draw a dagger from your sheath and slice it across your palm—
Don't even think about commanding me with that covenant again!
The silver-haired devil rakes her claws across her own chest, tearing bloody gashes. The torrents of blood she spills break the command's hold over her.
With her blood flows a torrent of magical power. She has pushed herself past the point of no return.
Hahaha... Well played! You used every advantage you had, but I've thrown away everything to match you!
She casually flicks the blood from her fingertips and resumes her assault, Moon Umbrella spinning through the air.
I'm genuinely curious, though. How did you break out of that illusion on your own?
The original Mammon designed it as a perfect cage. It's a sealed world with no ending, no way out...
Her questions remain sharp and calculated, yet her attacks lose none of their lethal edge.
Tell me, Gray Raven. What did you find in there?
You pull the trigger, sending another massive blood bullet etched with intricate curse markings toward Mammon. She instinctively raises her palm to deflect it. It's he same reflexive defense from countless clashes with Gray Raven.
But this time, the spiraling blood bullet punches straight through her palm, boring deep into bone and flesh and tearing open a crimson wound that gapes like an eye in her hand.
Cough—!
This isn't just the Bloodsworn's blood. There's actually a Demon Lord's crystal core embedded inside the bullet.
You! That's the previous Mammon's lost crystal core!
She finally understands the source of your unshakeable confidence, but it's too late.
The gray-robed Bloodsworn steps forward, raising their bloodied arm, and begins to recite the true spell.
In nomine meo placet parere By my name, heed my decree,
But Mammon has lost too much power. She no longer has the strength to resist this ancient, sacred command.
Praestare mandata mea et servum meum Execute my will, hold me sacred,
She clutches her wounded palm, silently screaming in rage within the spell's cage, enduring the agony of her soul being torn from her flesh once more.
Et clavem ad Mamen apparet hic Key of Mammon, manifest!
A brilliant, gilded coin tears free from her chest, and the spell's power wrenches her body upward, bending her almost into the shape of a bow.
The Key of Mammon hovers at her chest, tethered to her body by only a few thin threads of blood. She hasn't held the title of Golden King long enough that even a single remnant crystal core is sufficient to shatter the magical equilibrium within her.
You reach out, grasping the key from the torrent of magic with the same decisive grip that once seized her soul.
No, Gray Raven! You don't understand the weight of what you're holding!
She's roaring.
You shouldn't, and you can't destroy it! Only those who've passed the test can wield this power, and the law must be upheld by those who are worthy...
But her words fail to make Gray Raven waver.
CLANG——
Gray Raven's fist tightens, the coin's surface cracks, and brilliant golden shards stream through the gaps between their fingers.
Lilith plunges downward, her body crashing through hundreds of overlapping corridors, tumbling from the heights back down to the throne on the bottom floor.
The Golden Law dissolves along with the Moon Umbrella in her grasp, the pure gold throne splits apart, and the coins beneath melt into cascades of light that spiral upward with the fading magic.
Freed from the law's grip, the coins scatter back to every corner of the Scorched Borderland, returning to those who truly need them.
Lilith, stripped of her title as "Devil King" and reduced back to her demonic form, lies sprawled across the dissolving heap of gold, gasping for breath as she expels the last traces of golden runes from her body.
Hunger overwhelms her again. It's a ravenous need so consuming it drowns out all thought, leaving her mind too occupied to even register defeat or regret.
Then a familiar warmth flows against her chest.
Gray Raven.
The Blood Covenant's power races to seal the wound in her chest while soothing her endless hunger.
What are you doing?
She can't fathom why this person keeps pursuing her to the bitter end, willingly shackling themselves to her again and again.
The world says all human connections come down to equal exchange, but Gray Raven defies every rule she's ever learned.
Their bond runs far deeper now. It's something no Blood Covenant could ever fully account for.
...
The words leave her speechless, yet offer no release for the emotions churning inside her.
But she knows that she's finally been freed from her endless "famine."
The blizzard that had raged within her for so long finally let fall its last snowflake.
After making a detour through the snow, she finally catches up to the trail of footprints from her past.
She still remembers the day she left Lucky 38 Casino. It was Christmas Eve, too.
After hiding for hours, she finally hears the security officer's footsteps fade into the distance. She crawls out from the empty crate, pressing herself against the high wall as she searches for a way out of the city.
The Supreme Heaven bestows its blessings and peace upon every family, yet somehow forgets this young child. She watches parents take their children by the hand and head for home, while she stands lost, with nowhere to go.
Dashing through the snow... In a one-horse open sleigh... O'er the fields we go...
Laughing all the way... Bells on bobtail ring...
Holiday songs drift from a radio inside a grocery store that's still open. The warm yellow light draws her attention. She's been out in the snow too long and desperately needs some warmth.
Figuring her wanted posters haven't had time to spread across the city yet, Eleanor steels herself for one last gamble and gently pushes open the store's stained glass door.
I'm sorry...
The brass door chimes sway, ringing out with a clear, crisp sound.
Coming! How can I help you?
Light, quick footsteps echo from behind the counter as a petite girl comes running out.
Mom and Dad are away, so it's just me in the store right now.
What can I get for you?
...
In that instant, a flood of desperate thoughts races through Eleanor's mind.
She's just an innocent child, clearly much younger than herself. Even if Eleanor resorted to force, this little girl wouldn't be able to fight back.
The cash register surely holds enough loose change to get her to the next town. She just needs to grab it and run before any adults realize what happened.
Tonight's heavy snowfall will surely cover her tracks. By the time anyone comes looking, the blizzard will have erased all evidence.
Her eyes drift to a pair of scissors lying on the counter. It's a pair of long, sharp blades that would make a perfectly adequate weapon.
Eleanor uses her skirt to mask her movements, casually edging closer to the counter where the scissors lie.
Um, I am looking for...
Before she can finish her deceptive words, Eleanor startles as something warm is suddenly pressed into her palm.
The sweet, rich scent of fresh pastry fills her nostrils, and her stomach clenches with hunger—
Only then does she remember that she's been walking through the snow for half the night.
It's for you! Hehe, Merry Christmas!
The blue-haired child smiles and takes her hand, pulling Eleanor closer.
You're covered in snow. You must have been walking out there for ages, and you must be hungry?
It's Christmas Eve, and no one should have to go hungry on a night like this.
Eleanor can no longer remember the taste of those butter cookies, but somehow, that child's smile remains crystal clear in her memory after all these years.
She still remembers how gentle the little girl's laughter was, how warm her small body felt.
But the bitter cold of the snow, the endless stretch of that night, all of that she's long since forgotten.
At the end of her memory, she seems to clasp tightly onto a pair of small, soft hands.
When she opens her eyes, what rests in her palm is a warm hand.
So she accepts this warmth almost instinctively.
...Alright.
The silver-haired knight rises from the torrential downpour of light and grasps the hand reaching out to her.
She finally understands what emotion can truly satisfy the hunger deep within her heart—
But those words mean you've also chosen to take responsibility for my very existence from this moment forward.
So from now on, you must provide me with a life hundreds of times, no—thousands, tens of thousands of times more wonderful than what I have now—
Her grip tightens until her fingertips threaten to pierce bone, savoring what might be the first real satisfaction she's ever known.
Otherwise, you'll simply become sustenance in my belly, Bloodsworn.
No, from this moment, this very instant, every strand of hair on your head belongs to me.
I told you from the very beginning. This game is either win everything or lose it all...
I only accept complete possession.
Crimson threads burst forth from her chest, and the covenant embeds itself once more deep within their intertwined veins.
You grip the handle tight, drawing the newly reforged Moon Umbrella from her chest once more, its sharpened tip gleaming with deadly radiance.
Pain...! But yes, that's it. Let me feel more!
The Demon laughs wildly, grateful for the pain that floods her with satisfaction.
You do it!
Don't stop... let me feel it. Let me remember!
Until you reshape me completely into something entirely new!
The knight reclaims her authority, heeding desire's primal roar and unleashing raging tempests to tear through the city.
She no longer fights the surge of her ravenous hunger, but transforms that desire into fuel, into a beacon to light her path forward.
In the name of Famine.
Born in wide-eyed innocence, she entered this world within The Cradle, a place drowning in blood and sin.
As she took her first steps into the world, fate toyed with her again and again, imposing upon her a path toward the pursuit of desire.
She once believed herself to be exactly as Raphael described, a creature who knew only one path to survival: lies and the destruction of flesh.
But now, standing at this crossroads where the snow has finally ceased, she understands at last that everything before was merely a beast binding itself in chains of its own making, and she finally knows where her desires truly lead—
...What I want is a world that can embrace every last one of my desires.
Sanctuary, I will not submit to your rules.
Having reshaped her desires into their most abundant form, she is reborn once more from within the desolate treasure mountain.
Why are we always the ones thrown away as stakes in your games, while you, the ones pulling strings behind the scenes, never risk stepping up to the table yourselves?
Only now do I see the truth. All of this chaos exists because you've never had the backbone to honor your losses.
Now then, allow me to offer you a brand new game.
...Not one of you will escape this game.
Standing atop the crumbling throne, the two look skyward as the barrier finally shatters. Sunlight pours through every level of the city, reaching every corner and illuminating the final destination before them—the Supreme Heaven.
Far in the distance, the great hall crowning the dome looks down upon them, silent and willfully blind to the agony of countless souls below.
And she will challenge it all, collapse these iron laws, and bring the entire Scorched Borderland to its knees before her—
Life should aspire to more than mere appetites and comforts.
"Set out now, driven by this hunger."
"Go to the Sanctuary, go to the Supreme Heaven!"
Golden rain still falls, spreading across the entire continent.
She raises her umbrella, carving out a domain in the space beneath her feet. It's a stronghold from which to launch her newfound ambitions.
Now then, where shall we start our next game, Bloodsworn?
<i>I will seize every last morsel of bread and drop of wine from your hands. I will no longer grovel for your mercy and scraps.</i>
<i>No more will I be swayed by prophecy's whispers or prayer's false comfort. I refuse to let fate be bound by threads woven on destiny's wheel.</i>
<i>For what has been stolen from the earth must inevitably return to the soil.</i>
<i>I am destiny incarnate. I am Judgment.</i>
Golden crystal chandeliers hang overhead, sleek gaming tables stretch across the floor, and massive panoramic windows tower from floor to ceiling.
The opulent decor within the Sanctuary clashes so starkly with this disaster-ravaged, desolate continent that anyone standing inside and gazing through those windows feels as though this space exists in an entirely different reality.
Madam Raphael raises her crystal stemware in a toast to the figure seated across the vast table.
A toast to our inevitable success... To the Supreme Heaven.
I'll pass.
The opponent's gaze drifts past the towering cityscape beyond the windows, sweeps over the room's elaborate gilded decor, and settles on a single coin lying on the table.
This coin is identical to the "Key of Mammon." Legend says it was created as an emergency backup for the City of No Return, but without the final activation spell, it remains nothing more than an elaborate counterfeit.
Useless as a key, but invaluable as leverage.
I won't pry into how you managed to extract that failsafe key from the City of No Return... but I need to understand why you're helping the Sanctuary.
Your past doesn't concern me, but your motives do.
Only mutual benefit... can keep our partnership intact.
...Heh, think what you like. I simply refuse to watch the Three Realms destroy themselves any longer.
The figure shifts in their leather chair, but their voice remains as sharp and composed as ever.
I'm not after quick profits. I'm building something that will last.
The Mammon's throne has been empty far too long, and the Golden Laws will inevitably crumble. I won't stand by and watch it happen, which is also what you want.
So don't think of this as charity. Consider it an investment, and this coin your dividend.
I'm counting on you to make this investment bloom.
Raphael swirls her glass slowly, the liquid catching the light as she waits, deliberately and patiently, for her opponent to finish their thought.
But the words she's waiting for never come.
So Raphael laughs, sharp and unapologetic.
—You're bluffing.
This person's every move and word is airtight and flawless, but Raphael sees right through it.
As a gambler and a fraud, she doesn't need proof. She can smell her own kind from a mile away.
This whole thing only works because our interests happened to line up, and I'm useful for whatever you're really planning.
Sure, everything you've done for me fits my needs perfectly... but I can tell you couldn't give a damn about what happens to this Scorched Borderland.
Want to know how I can tell?
She raises her champagne and downs it in one smooth motion.
Because I don't care either.
...
Without another word, the figure rises and walks out of the card room.
Well then, I'm counting on you to make the most of what I've given you.
Then the door swings shut, sealing away the intoxicating decadence and endless desire that filled the room.
