The next morning, just after dawn, the three of you set off from the village and begin your journey to the tribunal.
Strangely enough, the journey doesn't feel so heavy, perhaps because of Beatrice, who sits in the back of the carriage, marveling at everything she sees.
Miss Nirvatia, look! I didn't know there was such a big plain right over that hill!
So the books were right. The world really is huge... we just lived in a tiny part of it.
Her excitement fades, and her voice softens.
I really wish everyone at school could see this too.
At that moment, a pair of soft, pale hands rests gently on her back, guiding her to look farther ahead—
A field of white narcissus spreads out before them, so vast it seems endless.
"How? How can a place so beautiful and pure, like something from a dream, really exist?"
Before her question can fully form, a calm and gentle voice responds.
The narcissus plain... the white flower field. This place has been called many names.
When I was little, my mother used to tell me a legend: When kind people die, their souls return to a field of narcissus to live forever with their loved ones.
That place was like a dream. Eternal spring. No sorrow, no pain, no death.
I believed in that legend with all my heart, until...
But she doesn't finish her sentence. Beatrice, puzzled, softly picks up where Nirvatia left off.
Until when, Miss Nirvatia?
No... it's nothing. It doesn't matter anymore.
Nirvatia lets out a small laugh and glances at you driving the carriage. You immediately understand what she wants.
Thank you.
The carriage halts. Nirvatia takes Beatrice's hand and gently leads her into the field of flowers.
White petals drift through the clear air like snowflakes. The purple-haired girl reaches out and picks a single bloom.
She gazes at the delicate white bloom in her palm, then suddenly smiles.
Miss Nirvatia... I have an idea!
Let's make a flower crown with the narcissus! That way we can take them with us!
The girl holds up the flower, sketching the shape of a crown in the air in front of Nirvatia.
She's sensed how much this place means to her teacher and tries, in her own small way, to create something that might become a memory Nirvatia can keep close.
That way, once we're back in the carriage, we can look at the crown and remember the field.
...Okay.
Let's make one together.
Nirvatia bends down, bringing herself to the child's level, and begins picking the "lucky" flowers scattered among the sea of white.
The girl notices you watching from a distance and rises to her feet.
Gray Raven, would you like to join us?
It's fine. We've got plenty of time. A small delay—no one at the tribunal will even notice.
In the endless field of white, the long-haired demon stands smiling. For some reason, you, the commander of the Iron Army, find something almost holy in the sight.
You feel something strange... like you've met her before, somewhere beyond memory. And that you should answer her invitation.
So even though it makes no sense, something—duty, perhaps—compels you to accept, without hesitation.
You take the flowers, smooth their stems, and weave them into the crown.
Then, the next flower.
<i>One flower at a time, you and the demon work in wordless harmony, weaving the white flowers into a crown.</i>
<i>To any outsider, it would have seemed a miracle. Yet in that moment, it feels perfectly calm and ordinary.</i>
<i>For the sake of one girl's wish, both of you set aside doubt and suspicion, working quietly toward a shared purpose.</i>
The last one... there! It's done!
The little girl lifts the finished crown, standing on tiptoe to place it atop Nirvatia's head.
Nirvatia bends down, feeling the soft weight and faint fragrance settle gently on her head.
It's so pretty!
Gray Raven, you think so too, right?
...!
Nirvatia steadies the slightly tilting crown with her hand, staring at herself in disbelief.
Demons are said to be evil, soulless, and feed on human desire and souls...
Yet the shy and hopeful look on her face now makes it impossible to associate her with those words.
You feel your throat tighten, yet force yourself to form a reply.
I knew it! I spent so long making it!
The one for Miss Nirvatia is done, so now I'll make one for you, Gray Raven!
Just as Beatrice bends down to pick another narcissus, an arrow shot from afar pierces through her neck.
Her small, delicate body collapses soundlessly, splattering crimson across the white field.
You and Nirvatia spring to your feet as a mob armed with spears and pitchforks charges from the far end of the field, like a swarm of black hornets devouring a hive.
Their clothes and faces are all so familiar.
Look! It's Lord Hanpa's enemies. They're right here!
Yes, you had seen each other just yesterday.
In that instant, Nirvatia understands everything—why this is happening, and why she was hunted down after only months in the village.
Before you can draw your weapon, Nirvatia charges forward, tearing the archer cultist clean in half.
Why... would you...?
Why would you attack a child?!
A terrifying wave of energy erupts from her body, purple light scattering with blood mist. For the first time, her true demonic form is revealed.
I'm going to kill you all!
The demon shackles that bound her moments ago crumble into metal dust, replaced by a massive scythe drawn from the void, rising high above the terrified mob.
All along, she could have broken free at any time.
I will never forgive you. Even in Hell, I will hunt your souls forever!
AARGHH—!!
The scythe swings down with a thunderous crash, tearing through bodies. Their heads burst like ripe fruit, spraying red across the ground.
Across all Three Realms, there will never be a place for your souls to rest!
After cutting down several cultists, she draws back her scythe, then slowly raises it again and advances toward the next group.
...None of you deserve to live.
You gave your faith to demons, buried your conscience and reason, and sinned willingly for that foolish bird-headed god...
Since you all share the same sin, I'll send you all to Hell.
You realize Beatrice was never their real target. You fight through the chaos, desperate to pull Nirvatia back from her rage.
Yes. Those cultists were far too conspicuous, deliberately provoking her. They were pawns, sacrificial pieces set up by someone else.
A sudden clang echoes behind. Years of battle instinct take over. You spin, weapon raised, aiming into the unknown.
A pleasure to meet you, Commander of the Iron Army.
The white beak of his mask gleams under the sun, an ominous light amid the sea of flowers.
There's no time to explain, so I'll cut to the chase: My apologies, but for the sake of our grand design, I'll have to ask you to die quickly.
—!
Bathed in a downpour of blood, Nirvatia snaps out of her frenzy at the sound behind her.
She lifts her head. Her eyes cut through the field of corpses and see a sight that shatters her heart once more.
Gray Raven's body falls to the ground, and the man responsible for it all stands laughing before her.
At last, I've done it, Nirvatia. I've proven my loyalty to Hell, and cleansed myself of the disgrace you branded me with.
Hanpa slowly pulls his blade from Gray Raven's body, flicking away the blood.
How long has it been? Centuries? Since that day in the bar, the day you tricked me and cast me out. I've dreamed of seeing you like this.
And now that I finally have, every moment of waiting was worth it.
Because seeing that look on your face—it feels incredible! Hahahaha!
...
At his words, Nirvatia realizes her hands are trembling uncontrollably.
She no longer knows what expression she wears, only that her grief has numbed her completely.
...Is this where my path as a demon has led me? Is this the end I chose for myself?
Beatrice... Gray Raven... did my choices doom them to this?
Her dazed murmur draws another burst of maniacal laughter from Hanpa.
How would I possibly know!
All I know is that demons like us are destined to tear each other apart.
And this time, you lost, to your weakness, your stupidity. Just like I once did.
Suddenly, the sky darkens. A thick, suffocating darkness spreads across the heavens.
Nirvatia looks up. A blazing beam of light shoots skyward, streaking across the sky like a falling star.
At the far end of its arc, a grand cathedral shatters into stardust, raining across the land.
In a distant part of the continent...
...Ashlar, Vice Commander of the Iron Army, betrays humanity...
...Joining the Lord of Death to unleash the ultimate weapon housed within the Halo Fortress.
From that moment, the Three Great Laws collapse, and night itself ceases to exist.
In the chaos that follows, Hell's Ferryman falls...
...The Cardinal Deity perishes within the cocoon...
...And Mammon walks willingly into eternal illusion.
The field is silent, yet she seems to hear countless voices cheering and crying out in awe. It's as if she can see all the hope and longing carried by that blazing star as it rises into the heavens under the gaze of the world.
But all she can do is stand there and watch.
She sees countless lives wither beneath the darkened sky, drifting slowly into the embrace of the River Styx.
She tightens her grip on the scythe. Fresh blood drips down the iron shaft, falling into the flower field below.
Moments later, the shooting star that carried the Scorched Borderland's final hope crashes to earth, vanishing back into the dark like a dying spark in the night.
Hanpa... I understand now.
All of this happened because the Lord of Death wanted to witness the end.
She bites her lip, forcing herself to find meaning in the chaos unfolding before her.
No, Nirvatia. You and I are not worthy to guess the Lord of Death's will. I simply acted before you did, clearing away anything that might stand in the lord's path.
The slaying of the Cardinal Deity is part of a grand design, one meant to forge a new world. Beings like us were never meant to understand it.
The demon raises his blood-stained blade once more, pointing it toward the girl standing amid the narcissus field.
But on the train to that new world, there is no seat reserved for you.
Nirvatia, your story ends here, before the new era begins.
...
She keeps her head high and says nothing, her eyes fixed on the streams of light slowly descending at the edge of the sky.
The time has come, she thought to herself.
She knows she must end this chain of consequences with her own hands.
The murmur of running water fills your ears. A strange, sweet scent rises, washing away the heavy stench of blood in the air.
Your cold body feels slender fingers brushing your cheek. The sweetness of death seeps through your veins as your shattered figure begins to fall into the River Styx.
Yet your soul refuses to close its eyes. You force them open, determined to see the world one last time.
You open your eyes and find yourself cradled in the demon girl's arms. In Nirvatia's eyes lies an unfathomable sorrow.
You're badly hurt.
Don't be afraid, don't cry. It's all over now.
This is the price I brought upon us. I'll bear it with you.
But your body is far too heavy. No matter how hard you try, it won't move.
Please, stay still.
I'm sorry... I can't change what's happened, but I can try to make it hurt less...
But even as that thought settles in, another feeling rises: a strong resolve.
You summon what little clarity remains in your fading mind, forcing your dying body to steal a few more moments of life.
...?
...Ah.
Her broken voice sounds like a sob.
Gray Raven, please... stay with me...
Crystalline tears stream down her cheeks, each drop falling onto the gaping wound across your chest.
Now I finally understand... what this world can't afford to lose are humans like you.
I used to despise this world. But because of you, because people like you exist, I began to believe that maybe I could become someone better by following your example.
I tried to imitate you, to be a hero, to give without expecting anything in return... but I could never truly become you.
And because of my clumsy imitation, you and Beatrice became the price of my failure...
She tightens her arms around you, holding you close.
Please, don't go. This world needs you. Only people like you can keep what little justice is left...
She freezes in place.
...Why me?
Nirvatia grips your hand tightly, her voice breaking as she asks.
Gray Raven, there are so many who trust you, so many willing to follow you through anything...
Why give your heart to me, a demon you've barely met?
So you're leaving everything to me? All your fate, all your burden?
That's such a cruel thing to say.
She lowers her head, lets out a sigh, and presses a soft kiss to your brow.
Fine, Gray Raven. I'll take your heart, and carry your fate.
<color=#ffffffff><size=50><i>I'll follow in your footsteps...</i></size></color>
<color=#ffffffff><size=50><i>Tend to your wounds...</i></size></color>
<color=#ffffffff><size=50><i>And bear witness to your legend...</i></size></color>
But don't think you can just leave me behind.
Her soft fingers brush across your face as she gently closes your eyes.
No matter how deep the River Styx runs, or how many stones lie beneath it...
I will bring you back from the world of the dead, no matter what it costs.
No matter how long it takes.
