"As you can see, I am now... 'Satan.'"
As Novia's voice echoed out, the illusory crimson sea answered him like a living thing. The horrifying magical energy he wielded multiplied the lightning from his lance's tip into thousands of overlapping blasts.
"You wish to see God? To make Him stop the Revelation? There's no need to worry about that. The gates of Heaven will always remain open for you."
"What happens if I walk through them?"
"Then your sins shall be cleansed. The world will be purified—and you will ascend to the Throne."
But then—Moses raised his fist.
With a single blow, the thousands of overlapping lightning strikes shattered into dust. Not just destroyed—the surrounding space itself fragmented and disappeared entirely. This was the same hand that once, by God's power, parted the sea.
Even so, Novia's magic—amplified by the power of the Beast within—still scattered residual force in all directions. A chorus of micro-earthquakes followed in its wake.
Armageddon had been turned into an open platform.
And in the next moment, a vast abyssal ocean swelled up from the void. It was even more terrifying than the torrential storms once summoned by Leviathan. Thunder and lightning tore through the storm-ridden floodwaters as they surged toward Novia.
The deluge swallowed him whole.
In that sudden abyss of water, his entire body was twisted and churned, battered mercilessly by the currents.
Then—
The ocean itself began to scream.
The very water wailed in agony. From the bottom up, the deep blue sea was overtaken—stained blood-red at a pace too grotesque to describe. In mere seconds, this conceptual sea—akin to the primordial Flood—was completely consumed by the red ocean.
Swallowed, and made part of the unborn Beast.
Noah's divine attack had not only failed—it had been devoured.
Next came the clash between Novia and Moses. Both inherited the ancient martial arts passed down from Jacob to Moses, from Martha to Novia—an unbroken chain of close-combat mastery refined to perfection. So formidable were these techniques, even archangels would struggle to match them.
Their strength was staggering—one empowered by monstrous mana, the other channeling divine might. Each punch distorted the very air, bending natural phenomena under sheer force. Their strikes fell like meteors from the sky.
"You'll never see God unless you pass through the gates of Heaven," Moses declared. "He is not in the visible world, nor in some imagined faraway place. He resides in a domain sealed off by the planet itself—a dimensional rift of imaginary space, beyond reach, cloaked in unfathomable mystery. Even now, with all your means, you cannot breach it."
Imaginary space—the reverse side of the world, a realm of infinite possibilities, where conventional physics cannot reach.
"In other words, the Revelation may not be unfolding in its destined order, but eventually—you will ascend."
"...Then why are you even here?" Novia asked.
"I only want you to accept the outcome," Moses replied with genuine calm.
"The outcome?"
"Yes." He nodded. "Even if you defeat us now... the angels that follow—how much more strength will you have left to face them?"
Novia fell silent.
The creases etched in his brow from days of battle deepened into solemn lines.
"Ah, I see... So I can't die, no matter what. I suppose that's... great."
His profile looked, for a moment, like a lost child—someone facing a hardship they could not understand.
"But still... if everything started because of me, then I should be the one to bear it all. Isn't that only right?"
Then the world shook. The sky tore. Lightning surged across the heavens, roaring from the hidden edges of the cosmos.
"...I've kept you waiting, my Rome. I've always been watching."
Thunder—belonging to the Supreme King—descended from above, enveloping all three of them.
This was not the power of the Apocalypse.
It was something else.
It froze time and space completely.
And within that suspended moment, a man clad in faded golden armor appeared, descending with the lightning. Moses looked up at him and smiled.
"To perish in thunder and ascend to the supreme divine seat... The only human ever to achieve such a feat—Romulus Quirinus, the Supreme God of Rome. So that's how it is... You were the one who halted the vice-regent."
"No, not just me! For that Rome—Mars, Jupiter, and I—we are all Rome!"
The divine glow had left Romulus's armor. It was scarred, cracked—a clear sign of the hardship he had endured.
"You didn't have to go this far. Truly, you should've joined us..."
"Oh, you who bear the world's weight," Romulus said, gentle yet firm, "I could not allow my Rome to shoulder both sin and suffering. That cruelty—I will never let Rome carry it."
He was not angry. He did not threaten. He simply spoke with sincerity.
Noah, seeing this, couldn't help but sigh. A human evil standing here, in the domain of Heaven—and yet God didn't smite him. Instead, He protected him. Perhaps in the entire history of the Earth, this had never happened before.
"Thank you... Romulus Quirinus."
Novia looked up, dazed. The grief, despair, and screams of the blood-red sea still echoed in his ears, echoing through his bond with the Beast.
Romulus stepped forward and clapped a hand on Novia's shoulder.
"I came for you, and thank you—for holding out this long. Rome!"
"Oh, small yet mighty Rome... Let me pave the road to your dream."
A warm, radiant light appeared between his hands, illuminating his gentle smile.
"Born from our Rome—child of human love, passion, and woven romance! Go forth. Fight. Win. And live—!"
His hoarse voice resounded through the heavens and earth, rising higher and higher until it drowned out the noise of the Apocalypse itself. It became a thunderous hymn that shook the skies.
And what manifested next was a sea of light—a staircase to the farthest reaches of fantasy, something no treasure could match or replace.
These were the footprints left behind by one who, as a human, stood upon the earth and yet wielded divine might. The legend of a new humanity, cast from the mold of the old.
"Novia, you are also my beloved Rome. Go—reach that distant realm where all hearts long to go. I am the friend of the one who sought to open the world, and I came for this moment! After all—"
Romulus spread his arms wide, laughing heartily.
"All roads lead to Rome!"
Even in the Age of Gods, such divine benediction had never been seen—no, not even heard of. Now it poured down like a torrential storm, emerging from the lightning around Romulus and gathering in the hands of a single man.
From Romulus's thunder, to Jupiter's light, to Mars's war, to Vesta's sacred flame—
To Moses, it was now clear: the crown upon Novia's head was packed with so many authorities and names, it could barely contain them all.
As if—at that very moment—the entirety of Rome revolved around this one place. Countless divine lights coalesced upon Novia alone.
The Beast's magic spiraled through him, radiating out. Flames of divine wrath and solemn justice danced on his sword and lance. Divine aura and Beastly power intertwined in a helix of glory and ruin.
"These gods... they gave everything. Their divinity, their authority—burned it all away. Just for this one moment of farewell..."
Noah murmured quietly.
He had already sensed it—the instant Novia had chosen to descend, fully, as a Beast. That was his decision. That wasn't about salvation or damnation anymore—it was just what this child, no—this man—chose as a person.
A complex storm stirred within Noah's heart.
"Ancestor, aren't you going to stop him?"
"I don't hate sacrifice," Noah replied flatly, looking up as a bright star rose into the heavens. "Battle requires clarity and resolve. But he's still too impulsive..."
Then he added, softly, "...Still, thank you, Moses—for not opening the Gate to Hell right away."
"No matter what... I still wanted to pray for all living beings. I can probably hold this for an hour, no more. I was never meant to control it. I only stepped in because the one who was meant to didn't show up. Just like you're standing in for the vice-regent... right, Ancestor?"
Moses looked up.
"He should have ascended—but chose an unpredictable end instead... Reminds me of someone from the East. The one who cast aside the Wheel-Turning King. And that staff of his, that looks like a sword—"
Moses paused.
Then smiled faintly.
"Not so different, really. I suppose it's a gift of sorts."
"...Take the quantum grain of knowledge. And the Zohar Stone. Go."
Noah, having resolved himself, lifted his hand and waved. Calmly, he watched that crimson shadow blaze forward across the sea of light—racing without a key, toward the unreachable Beyond.
No matter the outcome, as the Ancestor, he had only one duty left—
To offer his blessing, however small, to his child's choice.