The instant the golden tear touched the ground, the battle began.
Without a word spoken, the three golden figures moved as one—charging toward their respective opponents the very moment the sound of the drop echoed.
Or rather, toward themselves.
Pure-Gold Malenia became a streak of light, vanishing and reappearing before the Valkyrie-clad Malenia in a blink. With speed that defied even Demigod comprehension, she struck in a blinding series of blows, her blade leaving afterimages that carved deep wounds into her counterpart.
Before Valkyrie Malenia could react—raising her prosthetic blade in defense—a sudden kick struck her chest and sent her flying backward.
Nearby, Radahn, wielding purple gravitational magic, was locked in combat with his own reflection. Though both fought with identical techniques and near-equal might, his phantom possessed one thing he did not—Miquella's blessing.
The illusion was swifter, its movements fluid and unpredictable, flashing across the battlefield. Each swing of its greatsword unleashed golden-white beams of light, driving Radahn back under relentless assault.
At the forefront, Godwyn the Golden's greatsword clashed against that of his shining double, a blinding surge of golden energy exploding between them.
But the deadlock lasted only a heartbeat. In the next instant, the phantom's blade blazed brighter, and cracks spidered beneath the real Godwyn's feet. His stance faltered; sweat beaded his brow.
From the very start, Lloyd's three companions had been completely outmatched—pushed back, crushed by their own idealized forms.
And that, of course, came as no surprise.
Though they stood here as their true selves, each carried burdens that weakened them—fractured souls, corrosion from rot, or existence reduced to a fragment of consciousness. None could fight at full strength.
Worse still, their opponents were Miquella's imagined versions of them—their perfect forms.
The sister who had been healed of her rot, radiant in pure gold, living peacefully in bliss.
The brother who had fulfilled his promise, walking beside Miquella as the "Gentle Thousand-Year Oathsworn King."
And the eldest brother, heir to the true Golden Lineage—crowned as the new Golden King—yet still watching over Miquella with the same warmth as before.
These three illusions embodied Miquella's deepest longings—the tangible form of that "haze" cloaking his soul, thicker and heavier than any charm.
Yet even as he watched his allies being overwhelmed, Lloyd stood motionless at the center.
It wasn't that he couldn't act. Even here, inside Miquella's spiritual realm, facing the strongest versions of three Demigods, if he wanted to—he could enter Boss Mode and crush all three without effort.
Even if he unleashed more power, the stability of his Law would ensure Miquella's soul suffered only minor damage—not destruction.
But as a completionist, Lloyd sought more than mere victory.
And he understood—the reason those three had answered his call to appear here wasn't for victory either.
They were the incarnations of Miquella's desires, the three closest to his heart. Their existence alone sustained the remnants of his spirit. Only they could shatter the illusions within him and free him from that suffocating "gentleness" without destroying him.
Not even Lloyd could do that.
But that depended on one thing—
They had to defeat themselves.
The versions of themselves that Miquella believed were greater—stronger, purer, untouchable.
But... was that even possible?
Blades howled. Around Pure-Gold Malenia, golden swordlight surged into a storm, forcing Valkyrie Malenia back step by step, wounds opening faster than they could close.
Beams of light rained down. Within the storm of violet gravitational energy, golden-white cannons struck Radahn again and again.
When he raised his twin blades to block one of the beams, a gravity-charged thrust pierced through his chest, followed by a burst of white light that blasted him across the battlefield.
Meanwhile, the once-elegant, composed Golden Prince now knelt battered on the ground, hair disheveled, breath ragged, his body covered in wounds.
Before him, the "Golden King" who carried Miquella's will walked forward in silence. His sword gleamed as brightly as ever; his immaculate robes remained untouched by battle.
Facing the versions of themselves that lived in Miquella's heart, these broken remnants could no longer stand as they once had. Victory was impossible. Even resistance seemed futile. Before long, they were cornered completely—defeat a single step away.
Was this where it ended?
As the golden phantoms advanced, and their remaining strength ebbed away, they all understood—this fight couldn't be won.
Yet after a moment of silence, each of them tightened their grip on their weapon.
Dragging their wounded bodies, they forced themselves to stand once more.
Not just for Miquella.
But for themselves.
Because if they couldn't even find the courage to raise their blades against their own reflections—then even without Miquella's charm—they would remain forever trapped beneath the shadow of that shining glory.
But...
"What's the point of raising your weapons?"
A voice spoke, soft and warm as cotton.
"Why must we fight each other? Why must we draw blades at all?"
"The wars of the Lands Between have never ceased, nor has the suffering and pain they bring."
"From demi-humans to knights, from heroes to gods—every being has known that torment. The hatred and tragedies it breeds are countless."
A golden phantom stopped before them, not to attack, but to reach out a hand.
"I want to create a gentle world."
The voice continued through the phantom's lips.
"A gentle, accepting paradise—one where all life and every soul is treated with kindness."
"I swear to you, I will follow the Law of Gentleness, and begin a journey of a thousand years."
"Let your thoughts be filled with love."
As the words fell, the Gentle Law spread outward.
Though not yet a god, the essence of gentleness already dwelled deep within Miquella's soul. In the outside world, his power was limited—even Mohg, caught off guard by his charm, could briefly resist and break free.
But here, in his own realm, even unascended, his might rivaled—or perhaps surpassed—that of a true god.
And so, the golden hand extended.
And so, the Law of Gentleness flowed across the space.
And so, the three—already weakened from battle—after a brief struggle, slowly raised their hands.
Then...
Their fingers touched a golden symbol that suddenly flared to life.
The Gentle Essence hesitated, momentarily startled by the unexpected light.
At the same time, the trio under enchantment snapped back to awareness. They stared at the glowing symbols in their palms, dazed at first—then, as they sensed the message within, their eyes began to brighten.
"This is..."
"I can't intervene directly," Lloyd said at last, his calm voice breaking the silence as he looked toward the three, "but I can at least connect you to those outside."
He nodded slightly.
"Call them. Let those hollow phantoms see what true 'gentleness' really means."
Bang—
As his words fell, the golden symbols shattered.
Moments later, golden vortices opened around them, and new consciousnesses were drawn into the realm.
"I was wondering if you'd gone off to slack again... turns out you were here all along."
A red-haired little mare appeared on Radahn's shoulder, patting his face before turning toward Miquella.
"Long time no see, Lord Miquella."
Elsewhere, Malenia gripped her blade as twin lights—crimson and gold—flared around her. With the sound of flowing water, the two merged, forming a new, unified power that embodied the full cycle of life and death.
She lifted her head, meeting the gaze of the phantom before her.
"Long time no see, Brother."
"Long time no see... Gentle One."
Finally, Godwyn, who had been kneeling, slowly rose. Behind him, a translucent spirit form appeared, gently wrapping its arms around his neck.
He didn't need to turn or speak; even though its form was different, he knew immediately who it was. His lips curved into a faint smile.
"So, we're fighting side by side again, Furl."
Fortissax gave no reply—only raised a claw, summoning crimson dragon lightning. The thunder coiled around both Godwyn and his weapon, sharing its power with him.
Then, the three stood tall once more. Facing their phantoms, the names above their heads began to change:
['Goddess of Reincarnation' Malenia]
['Golden Dragon' Godwyn]
and...
['Trainer' Radahn]
"Radahn, you..."
Godwyn hesitated as he glanced at the name above Radahn's head.
Meanwhile, Malenia looked toward the small figure clinging to Godwyn's back, words catching in her throat.
But with the battle moments away, both set aside their thoughts and focused forward.
This time, the true fight began.
The first to move was the Pure-Gold Malenia phantom. As before, with blinding speed, she flashed forward, closing the distance and slashing with her prosthetic blade.
Yet this time, the sensation was different—less like cutting through flesh, more like slicing into a reflection in water.
No—it was a reflection.
The moment her blade passed through, the image of "Malenia" rippled and dissolved like water.
In the next instant, the real Malenia appeared behind her, driving her sword clean through her heart.
Squelch—
[Scarlet Rot!]
Meanwhile, on the other side, the 'Oathsworn King' Radahn charged straight toward his counterpart—the 'Torena' Radahn before him.
The familiar pull of Gravity Sorcery and a beam of light came crashing down again, and Radahn instinctively raised his twin blades to block.
But in the next instant, as though guided by some unseen call, his body moved on its own. With a single flash step, he slipped past the slash and the beam, then pivoted sharply. His blades struck true—slamming into the chest of the Oathsworn King who had just teleported behind him, sword poised for a downward strike—sending the phantom flying.
This is...
Facing the stunned gaze of his counterpart, Radahn raised a fist and bumped it against the little red-haired horse on his shoulder. Then he turned back toward his foe, lifting his twin blades.
"Two legs, three steps."
"One heart, one body."
That was what they'd learned from that absurd Horse Girl Dungeon.
Meanwhile, Godwyn the Golden, with Fortissax on his back, raised his head high. His greatsword, wreathed in gold and crackling with red dragon lightning, met the Golden King's in another violent clash.
But this time, it wasn't Godwyn who was forced back.
It was the gold that dimmed before the crimson thunder.
Boom—
Lightning erupted from the heavens, a storm of gold and scarlet entwined. The divine dragon thunder struck with annihilating force, consuming everything in front of it.
The battle had turned.
Where once the trio had been crushed, now, with new strength surging through them, they not only held their ground—they were driving the phantoms back.
The gentle voice no longer spoke. Realizing the battle was slipping away, it began to gather the last of its power, preparing for one final, all-consuming enchantment.
But...
Thunk—
A spear pierced the very core of that gathering light, twisting sharply and shattering it.
"Don't be a sore loser."
Lloyd spun the spear once, ensuring the power wouldn't reform, then turned his gaze back to the battlefield.
In that short moment, much had changed.
Not in momentum—no, the trio had already taken control—but in the world around them. Their counterattack had begun peeling away the false veil of gentleness layer by layer, exposing what lay beneath.
The pure gold on Malenia's body faded, giving way to the crimson corruption of the Goddess of Rot.
The armor of the 'Oathsworn King' Radahn fell away, revealing the horns of the Crucible bursting from his flesh, blood-red flames licking up his body.
And the "Golden King"—once radiant—was revealed to be no king at all, but a pale, shriveled corpse animated by hollow light.
Golden tears streamed down in torrents.
The haze dissolved, the Haligtree trembled, and the world itself began to crack and crumble.
"I understand what you were trying to do," Lloyd said, watching the collapsing world. "You wanted to fill every mind with only 'love,' to erase hatred and conflict, to create a paradise that accepts all things..."
He shook his head.
"But you see it now. All you've done is deceive yourself—painting over the surface with emotion without addressing the cause beneath."
"And I doubt you ever considered what would happen if, during your so-called 'gentle millennium,' your gentleness faltered. Even for a moment. The feelings and problems you've buried under that tenderness would explode—twice, ten times as violently. The result would be far worse than any lack of gentleness."
"Not to mention," he added dryly, "even if you filled everyone's hearts with 'love,' love takes many forms. Yandere. Obsession. Even the... horned kind of love."
"Blind kindness solves nothing, child."
The gentle voice did not respond. After a long pause came the sound of quiet sobbing—like a child crying after being scolded.
And after that soft, broken weeping went on for a while, the battle drew to a close.
With the false golden light gone, the trio shattered their illusions and walked toward Lloyd.
Once they'd gathered, he nodded, then led them to the small, tear-streaked figure lying among the roots of the Haligtree. He reached out his hand.
[Item Acquired: 'Miquella's Great Rune']
[Item Acquired: 'Godwyn's Soul']
[Prayer Acquired: 'Gentle Paradise']
[Gentle Paradise]
[A prayer once held by Miquella, one of the Haligtree Twins. It is the prototype of the Gentle Law.]
[Through gentle whispers, indiscriminately charms surrounding enemies, compelling them to fight for you.]
[Charging increases both range and duration of the charm.]
["Brother, I will surely become a god."]
["So if we fulfill our promise, please—become my king."]
["I wish to create a gentle world."]
[Special Clear Reward: Gentle Essence]
[Gentle Essence]
[True to its name, it embodies the pure essence of gentleness.]
[Using it temporarily enhances all charm-type incantations and items.]
[Unlimited uses.]
[The Gentle Essence once pondered how to end all suffering in the world.]
[In the end, it found its answer.]
[That answer was 'Love.']
[For if the world were filled with love, suffering would cease.]
[At least, that is what it believed.]
With the rewards obtained, the haze of enchantment faded away.
The small figure among the roots stirred, then slowly opened his eyes.
Within his golden irises, the faces he had longed for day and night came into view—his sister, his brother, his eldest brother, and...
Miquella froze.
It wasn't Lloyd who confused him. News of Lloyd's Great Rune collection had long spread across the Lands Between, and Mohg had spoken of him often.
No, what caught his eye wasn't Lloyd—nor even the little horse perched on Radahn's shoulder, whose identity he quickly pieced together. It was someone else.
"You're... Sister Lansseax?"
Miquella stared, dazed, at the dragonkin leaning against Godwyn's back—her form nearly human, save for the pair of dragon horns on her head and the faint scales marking her skin.
"What are you talking about?"
Godwyn chuckled. "That's Furl. You don't recognize him... anymore?"
His words trailed off.
Because in Miquella's golden eyes, Godwyn saw something strange—a reflection that stirred a chill of unease within him.
A long silence.
Without turning, Godwyn spoke, his voice unsteady.
"You... are Fortissax, right?"
"Of course," came the calm reply from behind him.
Yet the tone sounded wrong. Off.
And the sensation against his back... was definitely off.
After another uneasy pause, Godwyn stiffly turned his head.
And saw her.
A white dragon woman perched atop his shoulders, gazing at him with radiant golden eyes. When he turned, she tightened her arms around him, flashing a bright, playful smile.
"Yo. Long time no see, Godwyn."
"Like my new look?"