Following Gallagher's lead, the group entered a theme park decked out with flashing lights and oversized cartoon figures.
"The Clock Studios Park." Gallagher announced with a broad gesture. "The most popular entertainment center in all of Penacony."
March looked at him skeptically, narrowing her eyes.
"A theme park? I was expecting… I don't know, a massive library or a dusty archive if we were going to talk about the Watchmaker." She paused, lowering her voice a little. "Sorry, Mr. Gallagher, but… I really don't see the point."
Gallagher shook his head, smiling with a trace of patience.
"I get your doubt, girl. But you're forgetting something important—perspective and culture. This is where history is reflected in its most authentic way. You might see a theme park… but I see a prison. One that locks away this world's past behind costumes and colors."
March scratched her head, uncomfortable with that answer.
Gallagher went on, his tone more neutral.
"Long ago, Penacony was known as Asdana, a prison planet under the Corporation's rule. Convicts from everywhere were brought here with a single purpose—to reclaim the memory that leaked into the macrovacuum for the Garden of Recollection."
The group fell silent, listening closely.
"The Asdana star system has an unusual concentration of memory. Maybe for the natives it wasn't anything special… but for the prisoners it was devastating. Constant exposure created an unprecedented phenomenon—their dreams began to merge, to overlap, until they formed a shared world. There, they could meet and live lives almost as real as waking ones."
"That sounds amazing." March said in awe.
"Everything has a price." Gallagher replied dryly. "Sweet dreams are no exception. Not everyone found comfort in them. Among those prisoners, one rose up, freeing himself from the Corporation's shackles. He chose to fight for freedom."
He pointed at a cardboard cutout of a mobster-like figure with wolfish features.
"That was Hanu. The great leader of Dreamville, peacemaker and ally of the weak."
Aleph remembered Relojito and how they had used the Clock Trick to help people.
"So… Clockie's cartoons are kind of like a semi-documentary of Penacony's past?"
Gallagher shrugged.
"History is written by the victors. But inevitably, there are connections between what those cartoons show and what truly happened."
Stelle and Aleph looked around, noticing the many Hound Family members in the area.
"Supposedly they got an order straight from Sunday to shut this place down." Gallagher explained with a hint of annoyance. "Even I don't know exactly why."
They walked until they reached a central plaza, where a statue of Clockie stood tall. Gallagher extended an arm toward it.
"A beautiful sight, don't you think?"
Himeko, growing tired of the evasions, spoke firmly.
"If all the characters in the cartoon are based on real people, then it's pretty clear that Clockie is based on the Watchmaker himself. In the animation, he appears as Hanu's companion and one of Dreamville's founders. Can we assume he sided with Asdana in its fight for freedom?"
Gallagher nodded slowly.
"It was a great war for freedom. Hanunue wasn't alone—he was joined by Masked Jesters, Anonyms, Spurious Historians, Mourners, the Vanguard of Prophecy… even visitors from beyond. And in the end, they triumphed. Among them was the one who in time would be called the Watchmaker."
Stelle, March, and Aleph exchanged confused looks.
"Wait…" Stelle muttered. "If that war was so long ago… then the Watchmaker should be centuries old."
Gallagher shook his head.
"I can't say for sure. When I met Mikhail, he was already the Watchmaker. Maybe the title gets passed down."
"Then…" March narrowed her eyes curiously. "How old are you, Gallagher?"
He stayed quiet for a few seconds, as if giving it real thought, before answering.
"…Thirteen."
Everyone stared in silence, half in disbelief.
Only Aleph kept a straight face, reminded of the absurdity of his own circumstances.
After all, even though he said he was fifteen, he'd technically only lived a year as Aleph. From what Stelle knew of her memories, she barely counted seven years, and March… was only three. The only one with a normal age that matched her appearance was Himeko.
Gallagher didn't flinch at their reactions and carried on with his story.
"When Hanunue freed Asdana, peace was still far off. There were shortages, internal strife, and external enemies. The future was uncertain… until the Watchmaker proposed that the Family transform Asdana into Penacony, the planet of celebration. From then on, they called him the Father of Penacony."
March frowned.
"But… if the Watchmaker was the father of Penacony, why did he betray the Family? And how do you know so much about all this, Gallagher?"
Suddenly, realization struck her like the Astral Express itself had run her over. Her eyes went wide, and she pointed at him with a trembling finger.
The dots connected in her mind.
And looking back—
It was way too obvious!
How did he know so much? Because he was there!
Why did he talk so much about Hanu? That made it even clearer!
"Gallagher… you're Hanu!"
Everyone turned to him, surprised.
Gallagher raised an eyebrow, looking at her like she was an idiot.
"No, girl. I'm just one of the many 'children' raised by the Watchmaker."
He lowered his gaze, and his tone grew darker.
"But I am a traitor."
He let out a sigh, closing his eyes.
"Because I betrayed Mikhail."
Himeko narrowed her eyes at him.
"…What did you do?"
"I did absolutely nothing… and that was the worst betrayal of all."
Gallagher shook his head.
"I had comrades I trusted too… until we fell into a trap set by the Oak Family."
His voice was harsh, laced with reproach—though not directed at them.
"Mikhail was already too old to protect us. So we split up, each looking for our own path. To Harmony… we were traitors. But the real traitors were others."
He turned his back to them.
"We wanted to clear our names. To prove that Mikhail wasn't a traitor. To find the true culprit, restore Harmony to Penacony…" His tone was flat. "But we failed. Every step we took led us into dead ends."
A humorless laugh escaped him as he lowered his head.
"In the end, I gave up. Became the beaten dog you see today. The Family took me back, gave me this position as a kind of pardon. But it's nothing more than a shackle. A punishment. I'm cut off from my old comrades… and from my past."
His voice dropped to a murmur.
"As for Mikhail… the last I heard, he died quietly, in some dark place where no one would ever find him. That's when I realized the Penacony I knew was gone for good."
As he began to walk away, Himeko stopped him with a firm voice.
"Wait. I'm sorry… but is that really the end of the story?"
Gallagher glanced at her and sighed.
"You're sharp, Himeko. No, that wasn't the end. The last I heard, someone inherited Mikhail's title. That person's been working from the shadows, against the Family, all this time."
Aleph stepped forward.
"Do you know who it is?"
Gallagher shook his head.
"Too much time has passed. I can't be sure if what I heard was true." He closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them again, fixing his gaze on them. "Do you understand why I'm telling you all this?"
The group stayed silent.
"The reason is simple. I believe these deaths are connected to the Watchmaker's legacy. And when this mystery is solved—whether by you or me—we'll all have our answers."
Aleph opened his mouth to reply, but Gallagher silenced him with a wave of his hand.
"I've told you everything I know. Think of it as a gesture of gratitude. Thanks for listening to an old dog's bark."
Then he frowned, as if sensing something odd.
"…Huh? Something happened in the park."
His expression tensed. Finally, he sighed.
"Good luck, all of you."
And with that, he left.
...
The group dropped onto some nearby benches, trying to process the avalanche of information.
"If Mr. Gallagher is right." Himeko began, folding her arms. "The real traitor must be within the Oak Family. Which only reinforces one thing—Aventurine's accusation against Acheron is probably baseless."
Aleph couldn't help but smile when he heard that.
Stelle noticed and smacked him on the shoulder.
"And what was that for?" He asked, bewildered.
She only turned her head away, pouting.
Taking advantage of the Hounds' absence, Aleph brought up his encounter with Clockie.
March rolled her eyes.
"Seriously, Aleph? No matter how much you like a cartoon, you can't just call it your friend."
Her voice dropped, her expression darkening.
"Things like that never end well."
Himeko sighed, pressing a hand to her forehead.
"Still hung up on that, March? Dan Heng checked it—most likely it was just your imagination."
"But I'm telling you, Evie was real!"
Aleph leaned closer to Stelle.
"…Who's Evie?" He whispered.
Stelle flinched slightly.
"…The talking jellyfish from March's favorite cartoon."
"I see…"
Poor March.
Aleph sighed, then quietly used the power of the Clock Trick on her. March's bad mood melted away, her tension unraveling into calm.
Himeko watched, visibly surprised.
"That power… it's incredible."
Stelle, on the other hand, flashed a rather unsettling smile.
"If I had that, I'd be invincible in every card game… I could finally beat Dan Heng!"
"March." Himeko cut in. "Send a message to Welt. We need to know how things are going on his side."
March nodded, pulling out her device. Minutes later, a reply came through the Astral Express group chat.
[Welt: "I had an encounter with Acheron. Don't worry, I confirmed she's not an enemy—she's an ally."]
March's eyes went wide.
[March: "Wasn't she supposed to be dangerous?"]
[Welt: "As I said, I made sure. We're heading to the Morning Dew Pavilion. I'll update you if I discover anything else."]
...
As they made their way toward the pavilion, Aleph began to feel a strange tingling spread through his body.
"You okay?" March asked, helping him steady himself after he nearly tripped.
"…I think so." He muttered through clenched teeth.
Himeko sighed, giving him a reproachful look.
"How long have you been in here, Aleph?" she asked, arms crossed.
"…Almost eight hours, maybe?"
Stelle, March, and Himeko all shot him looks of disapproval.
"You should've gotten out and taken a break!"
"Idiot Aleph, did you already forget the rules?"
The group pressed on toward the pavilion, Aleph stubbornly trailing after them.
The massive pale-green doors loomed ahead. The others went through first.
Aleph stumbled.
When he straightened and stepped through—
A strange sight greeted him.
A pungent stench mixed with the sharp reek of blood filled his nose, accompanied by the beastly roar of… whatever that thing was.
Before his eyes stretched a city in ruins, burning, with no trace of his companions.
"…What the hell?" He muttered in confusion.
...
Aleph moved through the ruined city, a deep frown etched with irritation across his face.
"Why do I always end up in these shitty situations?" He muttered, just before a goblin tried to ambush him from behind.
He didn't waste time—his fist tore through the creature, reducing it to ashes.
Then he heard it.
A soft, majestic voice, so sweet it felt as though it wanted to wrap itself around his soul. Just a couple of notes and his body began moving on its own, expression blank, like a puppet with no will.
…No, not again.
A flash of clarity snapped him back. He conjured an ice spike and drove it into his leg, gritting his teeth at the burn. The pain anchored him to reality, clearing the fog from his mind.
"I'm sick of your little games."
The irritation in his voice was as cold as the ice around him. And with every step he took toward that melody, demons emerged from the shadows to block his path.
None posed a real obstacle. They were erased one after another, their frozen remains left behind to decorate the ruins as nothing more than lifelike statues.
The singing grew louder. And with it, Aleph's annoyance.
At last, with his final steps, he saw her.
Sitting gracefully, her proud silhouette was barely covered by an ostentatious outfit that could hardly be called clothing. Her hair, tied into two long tails, shimmered with shades that shifted between a deep indigo-blue and pale pink at the tips. Her eyes were a striking blend of blue and pink, reminding him for an instant of someone else… but Aleph dismissed the thought with a wave of his hand. Now wasn't the time for distractions.
She smiled at him sweetly.
"…Wouldn't you like to join my banquet?"
With a gentle snap, three lights flared in the darkness. Three great tables appeared under their glow.
At the central table, the woman calmly sipped tea beside another female figure—pale as wax, dressed in a short white outfit with a matching hat that made her look like a doll, her fiery purple eyes ringed with spectral flames of the same hue.
To the left, a man of almost unreal beauty wore a flawless black suit. Seated next to him was an ordinary-looking Japanese boy in a dark gray hoodie with green trim and black shorts. His messy hair and golden eyes gleamed in the shadows with a light that was hard to ignore.
At the right-hand table, alone, waited a dark-skinned man with white hair, his presence so heavy it felt like staring into the heart of a storm.
All of them, in unison, raised their drinks—tea, coffee, beer—and fixed their gazes on Aleph.
Their voices blended into one, reverberating through the air.
"Where will you choose to sit, young heir?"
Aleph swallowed hard, unsure how to proceed.
The woman smiled at his confusion.
"This is my banquet. Don't be afraid, heir. There are no right or wrong choices here… only truths. And you cannot escape them."
********
Inside the Morning Dew Pavilion, Welt and Acheron advanced from the entrance.
Acheron glanced at Welt with curiosity as she noticed how focused he was on his phone.
"I just got a message from my companions," he said quietly. "They wanted to know if I was alright. We should probably go see them—it seems they've uncovered something important."
"…If we do that, won't we lose our chance to investigate the Pavilion?"
Welt thought about it for a moment, then sighed, typing a message into the Astral Express group chat, letting them know he would be at the Morning Dew Pavilion.
.....
Crossing the threshold, the two exchanged a look.
"Isn't it a little… empty?" Welt muttered, frowning.
Acheron answered calmly.
"The walk here was far too quiet… a place this well-guarded shouldn't be deserted. This doesn't bode well."
They continued down a silent hallway.
"It's possible the emergency alarm caused them to clear out the mansion," Welt suggested.
Acheron pointed toward a door left ajar ahead.
"They even left the doors open."
"Guess we can't be blamed for walking in if they left it open, right?" Welt said as he started forward.
"Wait."
Acheron partially drew her katana, coating it with a thin layer of energy. Noticing Welt's look, she sheathed it again.
"You have official clearance to be here," she explained. "I don't. If I get caught, no excuse will save me. This technique lets me hide my presence… at least for a while."
Welt nodded.
"That technique sounds quite useful."
....
A balcony led them to an unexpected sight: a massive scale model of the Golden Moment stretched across the lower hall.
"…Maybe they use this model to debate important matters?" Welt murmured under his breath.
They descended a side staircase.
In silence, Welt moved closer to Acheron, who had crouched down to inspect something.
"What is it?"
She showed him the floor—there were footprints.
"I've seen this pattern before." She said seriously.
Welt leaned closer, recognizing them instantly.
"They're Aventurine's."
Acheron looked at him, mildly surprised.
"How can you be so sure?"
"At my age, you learn to pay attention to everything, even the tiniest details. Something as minor as boot marks… isn't an exception." Welt sighed, a weary note in his tone. "You wouldn't believe how often skills like this have helped me avoid… certain inconveniences."
.....
The echo of their footsteps rang too loudly through the silent mansion. Welt and Acheron moved with caution, scanning every detail they thought might be worth even the slightest attention.
Parts of the hall were scorched, as though a recent fire had licked the walls. Among the remains they found a slightly burned piece of paper that was still readable.
> By order of the chief butler, all servants must report to the west wing immediately after the alarm bells sound. The exact meeting time and task list must be recorded in the main archive. No one is to remain at their posts until further notice. Security will be reassigned according to the orders of the Oak Family's head.
Welt frowned as he read the date and time of issuance on the note.
"This was written just hours before Robin's death."
Acheron folded her arms.
"Whatever the case, someone should have remained in the mansion. To abandon it completely…"
"Are you suggesting it wasn't negligence, but deliberate?"
She nodded, adding nothing more.
...
Their search brought them to the office of Sunday, head of the Oak Family. Soon they noticed its condition was no different from the other rooms they had inspected.
"No one here either." Welt said.
"If there's no one to receive us, we can afford some liberties. Come, I'll cover you with my concealment technique."
Wrapped in that subtle layer of energy, Welt allowed himself to examine the shelves and documents.
There, they came across a report that didn't seem to have been placed there long ago.
Record of 'Death' Victims:
> Victim 7: Zhao Yuan, a Luofu Rapossan who came as a traveling merchant. They say he tripped and fell into a puddle of water, and something pulled him inside. Superiors recommended not to take this testimony too seriously since it was given by a notorious drunk.
Victim 8: Erwin Roemel, a human tourist visiting with his family from an area near Pier Point. According to their account, he stopped to stretch near a dark alley when a long, sharp tail dragged him away. Interesting.
There seem to be repeated mentions related to mirrors or reflective surfaces.
Could this all be connected?
Victim 9: Angus, an active member of the Hound Family. Circumstances similar to the previous case. His partner claims to have seen him fighting with a dream-seeker who insisted someone had stolen his daughter, even though she herself denied the father's accusation.
Victim 10: Sasha, also a member of the Hound Family. She was Angus's partner.
Conclusion (personal): The only consistent factor is the lack of consistency. There is no apparent motive, no connection binding the dead. This force does not discriminate by age, race, or affiliation. It's as if 'Death' chooses its next victim completely at random…
"Seems the rumors were true." Welt concluded grimly. "The selection is completely random."
Near the file they found some notes written in a different hand than the earlier ones. Whoever had written them seemed aware of the existence of "Death."
"I'm not entirely sure." Acheron said, flipping through the pages. "But these notes… they give the impression that Sunday already knew about 'Death.' As if the only thing that surprised him was that it had come back."
While Welt headed toward Sunday's desk to keep searching, Acheron decided to check the tall bookshelf nearby.
As she shifted her hands among some books, she heard a faint creak. Sliding them aside revealed what looked like a hidden compartment.
Inside were several letters and even—
"…A Light Cone?" Acheron tilted her head as she examined the etched Moment upon it: a young Sunday, cheering Robin on at a small makeshift stage.
Welt watched in silence before speaking.
"In several interviews, Robin said that out of all her concerts and stages, her favorite was always that one… the one she shared with her brother, when they were children."
He couldn't help but wonder aloud:
"What's their relationship like now?" He sighed, adjusting his glasses. "Growth brings maturity, achievements, and moments to treasure… but also irreparable losses."
Acheron remained silent. Old memories began to fracture the shell of her mind. Laughter echoed in her ears, and the image before her blurred, transforming into another.
A boy with chestnut hair and burning amber eyes pointed a cardboard sword at her.
"You'll fall, Empress of Thunder!" He shouted with enthusiasm. Despite the heroic words, the costume he wore made him look more like a stereotypical Demon King from some strange isekai novel.
"And I'm supposed to fear your sword, Aleph Avesta?"
Her younger self raised a brow, dressed in an outfit that resembled the garb of an old ronin, but adapted for a girl.
"Could you two stop distracting yourselves?"
Those were the words of another friend, holding the rulebook of their roleplaying game while stroking, with mock wisdom, the fake beard that came with his wizard costume.
"Ahahaha! Wise Anaxagoras, you should calm down! Or your hair will turn white… or maybe even fall out!"
Someone else chimed in—she couldn't remember his name clearly, only that it started with a K. He had white hair and blue eyes that suited his lively attitude, perfectly matching the role he had chosen as the legendary hero.
The "wizard" raised a fist.
"…Want to test my magic fist, oh noble idiot Savior? If my hair falls out, it'll be your fault."
The other immediately backed away.
"Come on, it's just a game!"
A black-haired boy nearby was busy devouring a peach dessert he had hidden from his father.
Her teenage self glared daggers at him.
"…So you've chosen the path of death, huh?"
And without another word, she lunged at him.
The memory shattered abruptly.
Her eyes opened as she felt Welt's hand on her shoulder.
"Are you alright?" He asked. "You looked pretty lost in thought—did something happen?"
Acheron shook her head calmly.
"…I'm fine."
Ignoring the still-distracted Acheron, Welt took the remaining papers and letters from the same compartment where they had found the Light Cone. As he reviewed them, he quickly recognized the pattern—several were letters from Robin addressed to Sunday, most of them sent during her tours outside of Penacony.
"At least this answers the earlier question." He murmured. "Their relationship wasn't distant. On the contrary… they seem very close."
Acheron simply watched as Welt laid the letters on the desk and continued rummaging through the compartment.
He found nothing more than keepsakes—old photos, show programs, small objects the siblings had shared.
Then, a letter Welt had overlooked came into view. Acheron picked it up. Her brow furrowed as she read, and with a gesture, she called Welt over.
He narrowed his eyes and read along with her. One line in particular caught his attention:
> Dear brother, lately I've been having trouble with my voice. The closer we get to Penacony, the worse it becomes. I've used the power of Harmony to strengthen my singing, so I don't damage my vocal cords from the strain, but even that is starting to fail.
There are… interferences. Something is blocking or distorting my power, and I fear what it might mean.
—Robin.
Welt adjusted his glasses.
"When we first arrived, Himeko and I already noticed something odd about her voice. Now it all fits… but the mystery remains. Not just anyone can interfere with the power of a Path."
Acheron stared at him.
"…Are you suggesting…?"
He nodded silently.
"If there really is a traitor within the Family, they aren't a mere pawn. They must wield real power… perhaps even hold a high rank. That would also explain why even Sunday hasn't been able to catch them."
Digging further among the other papers, they found correspondence signed by two different senders.
> Letter from the Alfalfa Family.
Sunday:
I heard what happened to Robin, and you have my deepest condolences. However, I must remind you that you are not only her elder brother, but also the head of the Oak Family. Your actions affect all of Penacony.
Given the difficult times Penacony has been facing, I urge you to set aside your hatred so it does not cloud your judgment, and to refrain from questionable activities. I've heard you've been planning to invest a significant amount of time and resources in hunting down "Death." Such an action does not serve the Family's interests, and I strongly suggest you reconsider, lest the leaders of the other Families vote to depose you.
I know you believe this is tied to the Watchmaker, but there are more pressing matters that require your attention.
I urge you to hasten the preparations for the Carismonia Festival. The situation demands urgency. Recent incidents must not distract you from your responsibilities as head of the Oak Family. I promise you that once the Carismonia Festival is over, I will grant you the freedom to use a considerable portion of the Alfalfa Family's resources to fulfill your personal vengeance.
I recommend you proceed with caution—the Master of Dreams does not seem pleased with the actions you've taken lately.
Sincerely, Old Oti.
"Seems neither the Master of Dreams nor this Old Oti are happy with Sunday's recent actions." Welt said.
"And they don't seem to care much about 'Death' either."
Acheron carefully placed the letters and the Light Cone back into the compartment. Meanwhile, Welt searched through the desk drawers.
"I found something else."
A long list with more than 50 names of various members from different Families. Each name was annotated with notes on their recent activities over the past years, their occupations, and even the likelihood that they might be the traitor.
Acheron flipped through it.
"They didn't spare a single possible detail."
"These… traits." She muttered, puzzled.
"Is something wrong?" Welt asked.
She shook her head.
"Nothing."
After a moment, she added:
"There doesn't seem to be anything else of importance here."
Welt let out a sigh.
"When I imagined our meeting with the Family, I pictured many possibilities. Never stumbling into an empty mansion."
Before he could continue, Acheron cut him off.
"Someone's coming."
Immediately, Welt placed the papers back where they had been. Both stepped away from the desk just as the door opened.
A man in a white suit entered with calm steps.
"Invading a restricted area… that's not proper behavior for a guest, Mr. Yang."
Sunday tilted his head, a faint smile curving his lips.
"And even less for a Galaxy Ranger… isn't that right, Miss Acheron?"
**********
Aleph, meanwhile, gave in to the blond man's invitation and took a seat beside him. The Japanese youth sent him off with a brief, "Good luck."
The moment he sat down, the banquet collapsed, and Aleph was swallowed by a dark, fathomless void.
A ravaged battlefield greeted him. The sky was stained a sickly, maddening red, the ground littered with petrified corpses, and the air thick with the cawing of a murder of crows.
The sound of hooves drew his attention.
Four skeletal riders, cloaked in black robes and wielding gleaming scythes, advanced from the horizon on monstrous steeds.
Where one passed, life withered.
Where another stepped, all dried to dust.
The next corrupted and rotted whatever he touched.
The last devoured the remnants of the others, only to be crushed beneath the hooves of his own beast.
Aleph growled, bracing himself for battle.
...…
From atop a pillar, the blond man watched him. The Japanese youth as well—though his appearance had changed drastically. His skin was now corpse-pale, etched with faintly glowing black tattoos.
Both remained silent, evaluating him.
The pressure bearing down on Aleph grew heavier.
War's mental assault tried to drown his mind, dragging him down into the state of a mindless beast.
Famine's scythe tore into him, draining his life force and magic. His muscles trembled, his throat parched as though he hadn't drunk in weeks.
He dodged a second slash—barely—but another found its mark. Death's blade grazed his neck, and though it didn't sever, his flesh parted like butter under a hot knife. The sensation of his head nearly coming loose sent cold sweat down his face. He barely reacted in time, hurling a shard of ice to block a second swing aimed to decapitate him.
Pestilence brushed him with his corroded scythe, and the flesh of Aleph's left arm blackened instantly. Strips of skin sloughed off like wet paper, splattering to the ground as foul pus bubbled over exposed bone.
Aleph staggered, grinning with feral intensity.
Part stubbornness, part the madness War had seeded in him.
With overwhelming emotion, he hurled himself forward into the fray.
When the four horsemen closed the circle, he surged upward.
He leapt straight at War—even as Death severed his right arm midair, even as Pestilence rotted his left to uselessness, even as Famine carved a deep slash across his back that stole his breath.
Even so, he planted his foot on War's horse's skull, using it as a springboard, and with nothing else left to use, he drove his head forward.
A sickening crack echoed across the battlefield.
His forehead smashed into War's skull, shattering it under the blow. Aleph laughed as crystalline fluid and bubbles seeped from his brow.
Not even the sight of the other three horsemen raising their scythes to finish him dimmed the burning exhilaration surging through him.
The scene shattered like glass.
Back at the banquet, Aleph gasped, staring at his body—completely restored.
The blond man sighed.
"He still has room to grow… At the very least, we can say his start is slightly better than yours, Naoki."
The youth nodded impassively.
"…It's not like that's hard. You know the state my body was in back then."
Aleph couldn't help but gape at him, now so unmistakably recognizable.
"—The Demi-fiend?!"
The young man tilted his head slightly at the title.
"Hm. It's been a long time since anyone's called me that." Though his expression didn't change in the slightest, Aleph could hear curiosity in his tone. "Young heir… where did you hear that old name they once gave me in my youth?"
"…Uh, well, it's kind of complicated to explain."
The blue-haired woman chuckled, crossing her legs.
"Is an explanation even necessary? In this space, you could simply manifest the memory and show him."
Aleph scratched his cheek awkwardly before manifesting a video game case and handing it to the youth.
"…'Shin Megami Tensei: Nocturne'?" His face twisted in confusion as he read the title and stared at the cover art—at a character who looked undeniably like him.
A light laugh escaped the blond man.
"Ah, that's right, he did say he had such plans!" He seemed genuinely amused by the revelation, and judging from the others' faces, he wasn't the only one.
The youth growled, setting the case down on the table.
"Heir… who created this thing?"
"Mmm, from what I remember, it was an entire series of games and spin-offs created by Mr. Nakajima, a friend of my grandfather's, in collaboration with a friend of my father's."
A deeper sigh slipped from the Fiend as he rubbed his forehead in frustration.
"There are two things I've resigned myself to never understanding Stephen's thoughts… and that man's twisted sense of humor."
Aleph just stared, baffled, while the blond man's laughter continued.
"Don't worry, Naoki! At least you're the one on the cover!"
The growl that rumbled from the youth's throat was more than enough proof of how little that fact mattered to him.
Aleph pulled away from the first table, his body still heavy from the previous illusion. The moment he brushed against the second, it crumbled under his hands and the floor vanished.
He landed face-first on polished marble.
When he lifted his head, he was blinded by golden gleams, jeweled chandeliers, silk curtains, and an overpowering perfume of roses. The hall was so drenched in luxury it bordered on grotesque.
He had no time to take it in. A hand seized his arm and yanked him up with surprising strength.
"Come on, slowpoke!"
Aleph blinked. It was Stelle, dressed in white that shimmered under the lights. Her smile was radiant, her movements frantic.
He glanced down and realized his own clothes had changed. He now wore a flawless black tuxedo—identical to the blond man's at the first table.
"Could you not shake me like that? You're gonna rip my arm off." He complained, annoyed.
"If you keep dragging your feet, we'll be late to the wedding." Stelle said.
"…Wedding?" Aleph stared at her, bewildered. "Whose wedding?"
Stelle looked at him like the answer was obvious.
"The group wedding, of course. Dan Heng and Corruid, then you with me, Firefly, Kafka, and Bronya."
Aleph froze, mouth hanging open in a dumbfounded gape.
Stelle nodded, satisfied with his silence.
...…
The altar awaited. Dan Heng and Corruid stood there, hand in hand. Aleph muttered in disbelief.
"When I made her she was just a cute little lizard… and now how the hell is she…?"
Kafka, dressed in red, burst into laughter.
"Did you forget? You made her with Dan Heng's genes, yours, Stelle's, and March's. Of course she'd end up a beauty once she evolved."
Aleph dragged a hand down his face.
"…This feels like a bargain-bin manga."
March, eyes brimming with tears, snapped pictures with giddy enthusiasm.
"They grow up so fast…"
The bouquet Corruid tossed landed in Himeko's hands. She caught it and did a little victory dance. Welt sighed, adjusting his glasses with the air of a father mourning that his thirty-something daughter still hadn't found a man.
"Even with that bouquet, finding a partner will be hard."
A well-placed punch to the gut doubled him over.
Firefly approached, laughing, as she took Aleph's hand.
"Cut the jokes. Once they're done, it'll be our turn."
Aleph swallowed hard, sweat prickling beneath the tux.
Stelle, Bronya, Kafka, and Firefly stepped aside to prepare, leaving him alone in the center of the hall.
Then two new figures appeared—the twin-tailed blue-haired woman, and beside her the pale-skinned one in a short white dress.
Both studied him with mocking smiles.
"So how does it feel to live every man's fantasy?" The blue-haired one asked. "Does it make you feel powerful? Whole?"
"Or does the affection of so many women soothe the emptiness inside you?" The pale one added playfully.
Aleph scoffed, tearing the tux to shreds until his usual clothes reappeared.
"Drop the jokes. Relationships aren't a game. That whole 'more is better' crap is pure stupidity."
The two laughed. The blue-haired one leaned in, her face close to his, studying him.
"Most would see it as a gift—even a divine blessing. But you despise it… even though you're starving for affection."
Aleph shook his head.
"Something like that… it's simply not possible for me."
"Interesting." Said the pale woman, introducing herself as Constance.
"And I'm Kali." The blue-haired one added with a smile. "We don't often see someone who both seeks and offers that level of devotion."
Aleph turned away, uncomfortable.
"How romantic~." They teased, to his embarrassment.
...…
The hall dissolved like smoke, replaced by a black castle of obsidian towers. On the central throne—built from the corpses of the Antimatter Legion—he sat.
Crowds of demons surrounded him, chanting his name with deafening voices.
Kali and Constance watched from below.
"If love doesn't move you… how about power?" Kali asked. "The power to decide the life and death of entire races with a simple gesture."
The chorus of demons roared, their voices a blend of adoration and terror.
Aleph looked down at them with a bored expression, not a flicker of interest on his face.
"This?" He muttered. "Bores me. Why sit on an uncomfortable throne, surrounded by subjects, when I could just run free and do whatever I want, whenever I want?"
Constance sighed. Kali gave a thumbs-up, amused.
...…
The scene shifted again. An endless mountain of gold and jewels stretched as far as the eye could see.
"Maybe you don't care about affection or power." Constance said. "But riches… these should tempt you."
"With them, you could have anything," Kali added.
Aleph raised a brow.
"Anything?"
"Everything you desire."
His gaze darkened, and he let out a sigh full of disdain.
"What I want can't be bought—no matter how much gold and jewels you pile up."
The world shattered like glass, dropping him back into the banquet.
Kali pouted, arms crossed. Constance sipped her tea, the only sign of her frustration the slight furrow of her brow and the tiny cracks forming in her cup.
The blond man laughed.
"See? Someone who can laugh so madly in the middle of battle would never settle for trifles like the ones you offered."
Naoki nodded in silence.
At the last table, the dark-skinned man downed the rest of his beer in a single gulp. He stood, tossed the bottle aside, shrugged off his leather jacket, and revealed a torso marked like forged iron.
His voice rumbled with contempt.
"Enough games, young heir. You've passed the others' trials… now it's time to face me."
The dark-skinned man set the bottle aside and locked his burning eyes on Aleph.
"It is time for your judgment. You, by the design of blood, are the heir to this duty. You will face the final enemy."
The ground split open with a roar. Black and purple flames surged like an ocean, engulfing them both.
...
Aleph landed on his feet in absolute void. There was no horizon, no tangible ground—only a black expanse that felt like the very heart of the cosmos.
Before him, the man's figure began to melt away, flesh and bone fusing together to form a titan. A four-meter-tall creature, muscular, with iron-gray skin and a crown-like set of horns atop its head.
Its voice thundered through the void.
"I am the Wrath of God."
Seven trumpets ripped through the emptiness.
Seven bolts of lightning cascaded down.
Seven thunders roared like enraged beasts.
The colossus spread its arms.
"The world that was created in seven days… when the seven trumpets sound, it shall be destroyed. Thus declared Metatron to men, after ripping out the tongues and tearing apart the mouths of the heretics who raised the Tower of Babel."
Its eyes burned like infernal flames.
"But there were three men and one woman foolish enough to defy that command. Akemi Nakajima. Dante Alighieri. Naoki Kashima. Alejandra Portinari… they sealed an ancestral contract with their lives. I am their guardian. Now tell me, heir… will you be the spark to continue that legacy?"
"My grandparents?" Aleph murmured in surprise. He quickly shook his head—it wasn't the time to get lost in memories—and gritted his teeth as he gave his command to Burroughs.
The summoning circles erupted in the void, and his demons answered the call. Wendigo appeared by his side, and Aleph fused with him in a roar that tore through the air.
The colossus looked on with mockery.
"A cute trick. But as a descendant of that madman Alighieri… you still don't measure up."
In the blink of an eye, it was over.
The demons were knocked down like flies, forced back into nothingness. Wendigo's body dissolved. Aleph was hurled by a brutal blow, flying like a broken doll until he slammed into the void itself.
"Weak." The titan spat the word like venom.
Aleph tried to counterattack but was crushed against the invisible ground. The colossus drove his foot into Aleph's chest, pinning him, and grabbed his arms. With a pull, he dislocated them.
Aleph's scream echoed through the nothingness.
"Stupid. Impulsive." The titan remarked with disappointment. "Is your life worth so little that you can't learn to fight properly? If you continue like this, you will never fulfill your destiny."
With a kick, he sent Aleph rolling for kilometers through the void until he came to a stop, panting, drenched in sweat and a crystalline liquid seeping from his wounds.
The titan advanced.
"But I must admit something. Your eyes…" He leaned in, fixing his gaze on Aleph's burning rage. "They are fine eyes. Like a rabid pup trying to intimidate a wolf. Adorable."
His laughter filled the void.
Then the purple flames returned. The air filled with a suffocating metallic smell.
A bestial roar sent shivers down Aleph's spine.
The titan lifted him by the hair, forcing him to look.
"Don't look away. Where else would you look?" He said with amusement. "He said, 'Let there be light,' and the light bathed the world, giving it life… And just as He gave it, He can take it away, plunging it into darkness."
Its lower body was that of a black serpent.
Its torso, arms, and head belonged to a demon. From its back emerged a human man. On its sides rose multiple heads—a dragon, a serpent, a lobster, a bull, a goat, and a lion. Its skin was black as soot. Its eyes, completely white, overflowed with endless hatred and rage.
The colossus laughed.
"This is your true enemy. So… pup? Ready to wet your pants and run to your mother's arms?"
Aleph's fury exploded. Using the little strength he had left, he propelled himself to kick the colossus. A crack ran through his leg—his bone shattered on impact.
The titan tossed him like a doll, leaving him sprawled.
Still, Aleph looked at him with venomous eyes.
"I will kill you… and devour your flesh."
The colossus smiled, satisfied.
"Try it, if you're a man."
Aleph put all his weight on his good leg and lunged forward, defying all logic.
The titan nodded.
"Well done. Even under this pressure, you can stand. Remarkable… for someone so weak."
Then, without warning, he lifted his foot and kicked Aleph's jaw with such force that he shattered into pieces on the ground.
The space erupted into fragments, and everything collapsed.
Back at the banquet, Aleph lay unconscious on the floor.
The dark-skinned man sank into his chair and picked up another bottle of beer.
The others looked at him.
"So? How was the test?"
The man drank in one gulp before answering.
"Decent. With the right pressure… he might become a good heir."
Kali and Constance approached Aleph on the ground.
"May your enemies tremble and suffer before your power." Murmured Constance, as the collapse of this space began with the fulfillment of her duty.
"May you purge every trace of fear and dread in order to achieve your Primum Mobile, heir."
Finally, everything faded as Aleph's consciousness returned to his body in reality.