“ARGH!”

  The impact of the high-speed wind was like crashing head-on into a wall; her scream interspersed with the blood that flowed from her mouth and nose. Dark red droplets flew in all directions, and Tristessa felt herself being lifted from the ground. The world turned upside down, and then she was subjected to the painful influence of gravity against the floor, aching on her bones and muscles.

  “F-fucking hell…!”

  She had lost her weapon, and amidst the dizziness from the blow to her head, she felt hot liquid flowing and reaching her right eye, contaminating her vision. She also lost focus on the collective influence of her Divinities opening the gates of her soul, causing the flow of Discord to dissipate and its invisible concentration to begin to diminish.

  “I find it hard to believe that a useless bitch like you managed to conspire behind my back and the entire espionage apparatus of my government. I heard stories of Strangers capable of leveling entire cities, but you… You just got lucky,” the woman hissed, closing the distance with heavy footsteps that echoed the approaching Death amidst the darkness of the night, the artificial light that sought to repel her, and the light that fell from the celestial vaults. “Lucky to find dreamy idiots, an idealist like Jonas, and a disgusting coprophagous harlot within the network of assassins.”

  “G-get away from her!” Bloodied and with his arm emanating an unpleasant smell of burnt flesh, Severus knelt and pointed both hands at the enemy, the dire situation overwhelming him to the point that he forgot to use the magical catalyst that waited for him a few meters away. “FIREON PLASMO…!”

  With a flick of her hand and without even looking at him, Aurelia unleashed a torrent of concentrated wind toward the elf. It propelled him toward the execution platform, sending him spinning uncontrollably across the ground until he crashed with sheer violence into one of the metal posts.

  “Severus!” Both the Mercer-Archeos and Tristessa wept for him, the latter still the undisputed focus of Aurelia and her Twilight of the Terror Hand; its blade stained with Astoria's blood and eager to taste fresh blood once more.

  “That's all you got: luck. Nothing more. Someone like you can’t destroy the Coven, much less ending the life of the Lord of Forbidden Knowledge or of the Dead End King.”

  Aurelia stopped before her, and Tristessa felt reduced to a small child in the presence of an executioner angel, sent by the Gods to smite evil. Wounded, dripping blood without ceasing, her armor crumbling to pieces. And yet, regal. Imposing, as grand as the titles with which she would go down in history, whatever the outcome of this duel.

  “If you believe yourself capable of fulfilling what you promised me… If you believe you can save my Dominion from the clutches of the Shadow Queen…” With her rage sparking like fire in her violet eyes, as beautiful as her face stained with her own blood and that of others, the She-Dragoon of End-World raised her weapon and concentrated all her strength in her arms. “THEN SURVIVE THIS AND KILL ME, TRISTESSA IRANDELL!”

  Part of the shaft and blade of Twilight of the Terror Hand obscured the Twin Moons, casting the shadow of oblivion over Tristessa. The shouts of her allies, of Lucahn, the roar of Vergil, filled the courtyard, taking the place that the Discord in her soul had left when it vanished.

  “TRISTESSA!

  “DAMN IT, I CAN’T…!”

  “WILL I MAKE IT IN TIME…?!”

  Even if Auron could finish reloading his revolvers and aim without his hands trembling from pain and fear, he would never be able to stop Aurelia.

  Even if Astoria used her Essential Dilution and her speed was augmented with thaumaturgy, she would never be able to stop Aurelia.

  Even if Severus tore his soul apart, spending his last remaining magical energy to conjure the power of the elements, he would never be able to stop Aurelia.

  No one could stop the inevitable. Tristessa was at Death's mercy, and she accepted it with a sigh heavy with frustration that led her to bow her head in submission.

  All was lost. All was Death, again. Cold and lonely Death…

  Cold. A deep cold within her weary mind, and the beating of her heart echoing in the darkness.

  Cold and darkness…

  “…■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■?■ ■…”

  Blistering cold. Freezing cold. Cold, so cold, extreme and unbearable cold, as if her soul had been cast into the dark void between the stars, where there was no life. Where there was nothing.

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  “…■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■?■ ■…”

  Only the voice of the invader of her frozen mental palace remained, now submerged in the darkness to which Tristessa had resigned herself.

  “…■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■?■ ■…”

  “…you again. At the eve of the end, you continue to torment my mind, huh?” she allowed herself the luxury of asking the void.

  “…■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■?■ ■…”

  “I don’t know what the hell you’re trying to tell me. I don’t understand you.”

  “…■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■?■ e…”

  “…”

  “…■ u ■ ■ ■ ■?■ e…”

  “No. What I’m saying is a lie. It’s not that I don’t understand you: I don’t want to understand you,” she admitted, feeling the liberating truth in the breeze that was her own voice in those dark corners within herself.

  “…■ u ■ ■ ■ n ?■ e…”

  “I know who you are. I know I’m still afraid of you… I’m afraid of losing everything. I don’t think I could endure it if I returned to the beginning once again,” Tristessa continued, speaking to that sinister coldness that had become an unbearable weight on her spirit. “I don’t want to lose Sev, Tori, Auron. Vergil. Vektra. Everything we achieved together, so far…”

  “■ u ■ m ■ n?■ e”

  “How do I know I can trust you?”

  “■ u ■ m o n?■ e”

  “Your voice… It’s still so terrifying, but… Why does it offer me hope when I’m dead?”

  “■ u ■ m o n?m e”

  “…no. I haven’t died yet.

  “■ u m m o n?m e”

  “I haven’t died yet. This loop isn't over yet. Not yet… NOT YET!”

  “S U M M O N?M E”

  Both Tristessa's and her invader’s mental scream forced her to bravely raise her gaze and see the glaive's edge falling upon her.

  Hearing the voice of that presence within her, throbbing in synchrony with her heart.

  Feeling the maddening cold of the new Divinity she had attained with the disappearance of her [Baptism in Ruins].

  And her own voice bursting from the depths of her throat, filled with the determination to stay alive and move toward the future alongside her allies.

  Toward the truth that lay hidden in the shadows of Nekrom.

  “COME FORTH, [DULLAHAN]!”

  Tristessa's dark soul expelled a dense and massive amount of Discord in her immediate vicinity. It was so concentrated that it even managed to transcend the boundaries of the ethereal plane and enter in its material counterpart, in the form of tongues of abyssal darkness enveloping the gray-eyed girl, like that pillar of magical fire that had charred her to Death in a previous loop.

  But all that darkness surrounding her wasn't harmful; it was icy, entropic, and devoured light like a hungry reaper seeking souls.

  It was darkness with consciousness, taking humanoid form and wielding a curved sword with which it blocked the edge of Aurelia’s glaive and deflected it. The sharp metallic clang of the clash deafened everyone present, and the She-Dragoon, speechless, opened her eyes in utter shock at what was emerging from the physical darkness.

  “…!”

  That same black sword slammed into the She-Dragoon's chest, shattering the outer and inner protective plates of her battle armor. A spray of blood scattered into the air like crimson petals plucked from a field of roses, and Aurelia Eramisaptor was thrown backward by the force of the attack. Her body rolled chaotically on the floor, which absorbed the drops of blood that trickled from her freshly opened wound, until the friction of the black stone surface finally stopped her.

  Face down, a few strands of black and blue hair tried to obscure her still-stunned expression, her teeth clenched tightly as more red fluid, mixed with saliva, sought to escape through the gaps. Her glaive had flown out and passed over her, making metallic clinking sounds once it fell and slide along the floor until it stopped almost in the center of the courtyard. Abandoned.

  And Tristessa… Alive. Still bleeding from the wound on her head, her bruised body screaming with pain from every joint, but alive.

  “Y-you…!”

  She stared, mouth agape, at the dark, female humanoid entity standing with her back to her, her sword lowered after the successful counterattack.

  She wore black armor, polished like a mirror that reflected the light of the stars, adorned with ornamental circular patterns that represented the infinite loop of Death and Resurrection. The shadows took the form of a long cloak that reached her feet, moving gently in the rhythm of the night wind.

  And her head, covered by a full helm, was in its proper place, a part of her body just as it had been when she met her defeat at the Burnt Fort Hexel. Turning to the left, she glanced at her summoner, showing her the absolute darkness within through her visor.

  A divine phantom. A tangible specter that was part of Tristessa's soul and an extension of it.

  Dullahan, the dark knightess and Nemesis of Dread.

  HAPPY NEW YEAR EVERYBODY, I hope all your wishes come true and you achieve your goals!

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