The situation had spiraled out of control. None of the four had considered the most optimistic scenario on the possibility of an early victory without much bloodshed, but neither had they wanted the duel to reach such a level of danger.

  Aurelia and Mystia were a duo who had defeated a tainted ursall in a past timeline; Tristessa remembered it well, as well as how Astoria and Auron had struggled in that fight. It didn't even seem as though they had a chance of surviving, no matter how many times Tristessa replayed that memory of the Evil Dream in her mind's palace, searching for reasons to think otherwise.

  The agility and power, the synergy between them, was something the gray-eyed girl couldn't even dream of achieving. And now she was going to see it again, once more, only this time she and her companions were the targets for the She-Dragoon of End-World's massacre.

  “Guys, she…!”

  At that moment, pandemonium erupted. No one could have heard what she had to say amidst Mystia's roars and the cries of her allies, stalked by the dizzying speed of that lesser demon. It darted back and forth, trying to confuse them, preventing either the gunslinger or the thaumaturge from aiming accurately for a ranged and magical attack.

  Making Astoria the primary target.

  “Auron!” she cried out, overwhelmed as the rider charged straight at her and attacked with a thrusting attack from her right side, while Mystia unleashed a swipe of her claws from her left. She managed to defend herself against one attack, but not the other: the black aracross's claws sliced ??through the pauldron of her right arm as if it was paper and reached beyond, sinking into her shoulder. “AAAAGH!”

  “Tori!”

  “Hold on, Astoria!”

  Revolver shots echoed across the courtyard and beyond the empty castle, far drowning out Tristessa’s terrified scream. Bullet impacts thudded off the ground as Mystia leaped out of the way, pulling her rider with her away from the projectiles and the illusion glyphs Severus was conjuring but failing to activate in time.

  “By Kantrus! That beast is almost as fast as Aurelia using her Divinity. I need her to stay put!” the thaumaturge complained, following their enemy’s trail and shielding Tristessa with his arm. “Don’t stray from me. This has become way too dangerous.”

  “Wasn’t it already? If you hadn’t used your magic, I would be dead,” she told him, making no attempt to hide how useless she was on the battlefield. It was frustrating to know that none of her Divinities were effective enough to make a difference at that moment. Not even having the photographic memory of Aurelia and Mystia fighting in the Evil Dream was enough. Everything depended on her allies. “I am a…”

  A burden, a liability. She was only useful when there were deaths around or when she offered crucial information to resolve a problem, obtained thanks to her [Divinity of Death and Resurrection]. She always had to die to make a difference in a new timeline—but if she died now, everything she had achieved would be lost.

  She was so close to the victory she had almost imagined, and that She-Dragoon was the giant, superior obstacle. That warrior woman covered in superficial wounds, her black and blue hair blazing, her beautiful amethyst eyes analyzing every aspect of the battlefield, blocking Auron shots with the blade of her polearm, and her mount dodging others as they moved from side to side.

  “It doesn’t matter what you do, Silverthorn! Sooner or later, my Mystia will claim your arm!” she declared, exorbitant cruelty clouding her judgment; her rampant emotions demanding she inflict maximum damage on those reckless rivals who dared insult her. “And I will take your head, before the Demoness in Pain does it for me… You fucking [Virgin of Sorrow].”

  Upon hearing that, even if the threat wasn't directed at her, Tristessa had to hug herself as the terrifying memory of the phantom pain of her first Death returned. She remembered the Vargs, the sensation of her arm being ripped off completely, and then each part of her body being torn apart until only her head remained.

  The same fate awaited the knightess if she didn't do something immediately and turned the tables.

  “Ugh…nnngh…” Astoria was the complete opposite of her enemy. Sluggish, forced to drink a vitality potion to regain mobility in her arm and stop the bleeding from her shoulder. Holding her heavy sword in her left hand, trembling with pain, cold beads of sweat forming on her forehead, she struggled to keep Aurelia in sight.

  “Severus, support Astoria!”

  Following that warning shout, the gunfire ceased, the cylinders of Auron’s revolvers now full of spent non-lethal ammunition. This gave the blood elf precious seconds to conjure some magic that could prevent Aurelia from going straight to Astoria to finish what she had started.

  But the She-Dragoon had another plan in mind.

  “How fast can you reload your weapons, outlaw?!” she exclaimed, striking Mystia on the side to spur her toward the gunslinger, who was engulfed by surprise, a hint of panic reflected on his face partially obscured by his handkerchief. “How fast can you escape my Hand of Terror?!”

  “No, damn it! Gaelyan…!”

  Tristessa didn't finish hearing the spell Severus had begun to recite, her attention entirely focused on the gunslinger and the beast lunging at him. Unable to do anything, with no ability to help, she watched Auron leap to the side, dodging both the glaive's blade aimed straight for his chest and Mystia's claws that almost reached his head.

  “Haa…ha…” Severus sighed, clutching his chest and pointing his cane at his intended target. “R-Run!”

  Auron's abnormally swift movement was because of the spatial distortion surrounding him, a product of the thaumaturgy Severus had cast upon him. A new price to pay in the form of high magical energy consumption, given the elf's limited affinity for non-elemental magic.

  The gunslinger writhed on the ground, his hat behind him, the magical aura dissipating in the blink of an eye. He tried to escape, but the aracross caught him, pushing him back with her hind legs and sinking its claws into his waist.

  “AURON!” Tristessa’s shriek shook those forced to witness the battle from the execution platform, and made Vergil roar, enraged at not being able to attend to his mistress.

  The legs of the gray-eyed girl begged to move, the strings of her heart being pulled by the fear that the nonexistent past would repeat itself. She wanted to run to the fallen gunslinger and do something to save him from that bloodthirsty rider and her demonic beast, which licked her teeth at the sight of her prey crawling backward. To abandon all logic and do something, anything, to prevent that tragic end she saw looming behind her eyes, along with her tears.

  But what could she do? She was a girl with a dagger, and Aurelia was an armed she-dragoon riding a lesser demon as large as a varg, and it was heading towards her and Severus at great speed.

  “UR FIRAN!” In a desperate attempt, the blood elf conjured a line of elemental fire glyphs that transformed into a wall of fire. The flames divided that section of the courtyard, hoping to hinder Aurelia and her beast's advance, but Severus realized a near-fatal flaw in his magic. “DOWN!”

  He forced Tristessa to crouch beside him, and the next instant, all that fire surged upon them in a vile betrayal, subdued by the gust of wind that Aurelia manifested and unleashed horizontally with a slash of her glaive.

  Through the rapidly dying flames, Tristessa glimpsed the merciless face of the She-Dragoon, a silent threat reflected in her cruel violet eyes, saturated with fury.

  BANG! BANG! BANG!

  The gunshots that echoed from the other side of the wall spurred Aurelia onward, maintaining her speed and returning to where the gunslinger had fired his last shots from the ground with the revolver he hadn't lost during the attack he suffered.

  Now he was defenseless, at the mercy of Aurelia and Mystia, eager to tear flesh and sinew from the bones.

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  “Not one step further!”

  There was only one person there to defend Auron, and that person was Astoria: the knightess in broken, blood-stained armor charged toward her ally and blocked Mystia's path. With her icy yet infernal gaze fixed on both rider and mount, she raised her greatsword with both hands and threatened them both, earning a hungry growl from the beast and a curious, alarmed reaction from Aurelia.

  “Enjoy the feast, girl.” The Lady of the Domain dismounted Mystia, leaping sideways with the power of her Divinity. As she touched the ground, she pointed the blade of her glaive toward Tristessa and Severus. “I’ll take care of those two.”

  “…!”

  Tristessa assumed the Arachnion fighting stance and took a deep breath. She inhaled and exhaled, trying to expel some of the fear that continued to grow within her. Clutching her hunting dagger tightly, she tried to convince herself that she had experienced similar dread before.

  She had seen Aurelia Eramisaptor walking toward her. The difference was that now she wasn’t drenched in the blood of her allies, but she emanated something almost as bad: the presence of a devil, bloodthirsty and seeking to kill.

  Cling.

  And to turn that duel to the death into a true spectacle of horror, Aurelia slammed the base of her glaive into the floor, generating that metallic, resonant sound that enraged Mystia like nothing else in the world.

  “ROAAAAAAAAAR!”

  Her growl was worthy of a beast as magnificent and terrifying as she was, causing Astoria to become infected by the nervousness of those present, while Auron struggled to his feet and endured the unbearable pain from the wound in his lower back that wouldn't stop bleeding.

  Cling. Cling. Cling. Cling.

  There was nothing but a desire to kill reflected on that woman's face, inciting her aracross to fall into the same vortex of fury as she did.

  Aurelia’s sense of justice was lost in a world of mist, where it was impossible to find her bearings. Circumvoluting for all eternity, unable to discern the flaws in her decisions, validated solely by the need to punish those who had committed the crime of conspiring with and colluding with a Stranger. A crime in which she, too, considered herself guilty, and thus believed she, too, deserved to die.

  She cared little now for morality or reasoning about the consequences of such decisions: Aurelia now only wanted to kill or be killed. Whatever the outcome of the duel, blood had to be spilled, and if it wasn't hers, then she was going to do the killing.

  Killing and continuing to kill until no one remained alive. Let the execution yard be flooded with the blood of the guilty, those who ultimately lost this duel and those who dared to challenge her justice.

  The homicidal intent burning like the surface of a dying star. The She-Dragoon's rage igniting the souls of those around her, even that of a vengeful spirit like the blood elf.

  “Fireon Ensis Plasmos.”

  To fight the approaching inferno, Severus chose to use fire as well. It manifested as crimson glyphs that produced cuts across his body; dozens of threads of blood converged on his right arm, taking the form of a sword that began to burn.

  Cling.

  The sixth metallic echo sent Mystia into a rampaging state and she lunged at Astoria, who deflected her claws with her sword. At the same time, Severus and Aurelia clashed, metal and bloodflame in an unfair encounter.

  Leaving Tristessa with the eternal and perpetual doubt that had plagued her since people she cared about were injured or killed around her:

  “W-what do I do…?”

  She watched Severus suffering in a back-and-forth exchange of blows he was inevitably going to lose because he wasn't one for close combat, and Aurelia attacking with the vileness of someone who already knew her partial victory, only enjoying toying with her food before swallowing it whole.

  Her bloodshot, panicked gaze shifted to where Astoria was struggling against a Mystia consumed by her most savage instincts, as if her horns had never been cut off. Using her greatsword as a shield between herself and the beast, she held it horizontally, wedged inside its mouth, trapped amidst the sea of ??teeth within.

  “Auron, please…!” Her desperate cry rang out, her arms imbued with inhuman strength resisting Mystia's weight as she tried to pull her back to the floor, where the gunslinger struggled in agony and was on the verge of losing consciousness. “HELP ME!”

  And finally, Tristessa saw the aura of despair descending upon the Mercer-Archeos. Jin praying with his eyes closed for a miracle from the Gods that wasn't going to happen; Tiara glaring at her with those red eyes worthy of a fallen angel, tears streaming down her face; and Luchan, huddled beside the aracross that had pierced the base of the platform with its claws so as not to disobey and go to her aid.

  The three members of the family, holding hands and waiting for the future, whatever the outcome.

  And Jonas was closely watching her, with his calculating and watchful gaze... Hoping she would do something to change fate. To tip the scales in their favor, as was expected of a Stranger, those with the ability to turn dreams into reality.

  How could she do something like that, lacking any training in hand-to-hand combat?

  She couldn't fight... But what she could do was serve as a distraction. One that was impossible for the inhabitants of that world to ignore.

  “Of course… Yes, it can work!” she whispered to herself, and with her heart pounding, she cried out: “AURELIA!”

  No sooner had her voice begun to echo across the black stone courtyard with its high walls than Tristessa focused on all her Divinities and beyond, on every corner they occupied in her soul. Those sensations that brought fear, panic, cold—a painful cold. Abnormal, recent cold. Invasive cold. “I AM HERE!”

  Tristessa ignored that headache accompanied by the mental permafrost as best she could, letting all those sensations flow out of her body. Ethereal manifestations of Discord. A quantity so dense it could make one sick and weep; a miasma so terrible it couldn't go unnoticed.

  Making the black aracross want to turn its head in the direction she was standing. Growling and salivating like never before, it bit the greatsword's blade, making it screech dangerously.

  “Y-you...and all that Discord!” Forcing Aurelia to kick the blood elf in the chest, so hard and amplified by her [Divinity of Air Haste] that he spat saliva and was sent flying several meters backward. His bloodsword vanished, leaving his arm burning, engulfed in pustules and bloody flames. “So unholy...!”

  The She-Dragoon cast her violet gaze upon her. Disgusted, hating every second of being in the presence of that invisible miasma that surrounded her; feelings of repulsion amplified thanks to her [Grace]-composed soul, the very antithesis of Discord.

  Such was her revulsion toward Tristessa that she lost track of what was happening in the distance, confident that her Aracross would finish the job they had both started.

  “Get down, Astoria!”

  With that command, uttered by another dark soul bearer, the knightess lowered her head, leaving the path to the side of Mystia's head clear. A perfect target for Auron and the single-shot pistol he had pulled from his pocket, laying in a pool of his own blood and using what little consciousness he had left to aim and fire.

  BANG!

  Although the bullet was non-lethal, the impact was almost point-blank. It struck the top of Mystia’s head, above her left eye, causing sharp barks and violent jerking from side to side.

  A painful distraction that Astoria capitalized on without hesitation: she took a running start and punched Mystia with all her might on the side of the jaw, breaking several teeth and sending her sprawling to the ground, stunned and disoriented.

  “RIAAAAAAA!”

  Astoria leaped onto the lesser demon and showed no mercy, unleashing a barrage of punches to the top of its skull. The fur offered some protection, but the knightess’ fists were imbued with strength that went beyond human limits thanks to her Essential Dilution.

  With the fourth blow and strands of warm blood hanging from Astoria's knuckles, the beast moved no more.

  “Auron!” The bloodied platinum-haired knightess wasted no time savoring her victory and went to him, kneeling beside him and offering to help him uncork the vitality potion he was struggling with, his hands moistened with his own blood. “Leave it to me!”

  “No, go help Tristessa! She…!”

  “YOU TWO!”

  With that scream, the Lady of the Dominion's wrath shifted toward those responsible for leaving her beloved Mystia unconscious and bleeding, forcing them both to their feet—Astoria helping Auron as the healing potion took effect. Both were unarmed and faced the risky option of running to retrieve their weapons, which would give Aurelia green light to blitz and kill them instantly.

  “What are you doing, Aurelia? Look at me.” The miasma of Discord once again spread from that ground zero that was Tristessa's soul, quickly covering the courtyard and adversely affecting the spirits of all present; causing irrational hatred, disgust, and nausea as if they were neck-deep in a stagnant, putrid swamp. “LOOK AT ME!”

  The three heroes were the only ones resisting the negative influence of all that Discord because of the strength of their desires and the one in whom they placed their faith. Badly wounded, exhausted, and bleeding, the three looked at Tristessa with the same fear that had gripped them during the palaver in the Hall of the Bereft Throne.

  As for Aurelia, that ethereal darkness was like sensing the presence of the worst of enemies behind her; the source of all the evil that plagued Nekrom, concentrated on that girl who wasn't going to allow her to take a single step toward any of her allies.

  “…you don't give me orders, scum. I give them.”

  Aurelia didn't even gifted Tristessa the chance for a face-to-face confrontation, striking her with a gust of wind that had converged at the tip of her glaive.

  Unleashing a hell of pain within her.

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