They headed west.
No map. No plan. Just a single name scratched into the corner of Ryu's bloodstained dossier: Shin Mira.
Azari slept in the back seat of a stolen cruiser, her head against the relic case, breathing shallow. Jung Min drove in silence, the wind screaming through cracked windows like ghosts that couldn't move on.
They found her outside an abandoned stadium.
Where saints once gathered for sermons, now only pigeons listened.
Shin Mira stood in the center of the overgrown field. Barefoot. Blindfolded. A white blade resting across her palms.
Jung Min stepped onto the grass.
"I don't remember you being this dramatic," he called out.
"I remember you being colder," she said without looking.
"I've warmed up."
"Too bad. You'll need to be cold to survive this."
The field went silent.
Mira's blindfold unraveled in the wind—no eyes beneath it, just white flame.
Jung Min moved first.
Two steps. Two shots.
Mira spun, deflecting both with the flat of her blade—still not holding it. The relic floated between her palms, singing quietly.
Azari stirred awake in the car. Felt the hum in her bones.
"Shit," she whispered. "She's harmonizing."
Jung Min didn't wait.
He dropped his mag, reloaded with Black Prayer rounds, and charged.
Mira opened her mouth—and five voices screamed from her throat.
Not human. Not divine. Just wrong.
The grass curled. Birds dropped from the sky. The relic in Azari's case cracked its seal.
Time folded for a second.
Then—
Jung Min shot her in the leg.
She blinked out of reality—teleport dodge—reappeared behind him.
Blade out. Tip at his throat.
"You hesitated," she said.
"No," he muttered. "I aimed low so you'd get cocky."
He pulled the second trigger—shoulder holster.
The shot hit her side. Hard.
Mira staggered.
He lunged forward, tackled her.
The two rolled across the stadium floor—blade clattering out of reach.
She reached for it. He grabbed her wrist.
"You don't have to do this," she gasped.
"I do," he growled. "Because I let the last one walk."
She headbutted him. Hard.
"Then don't miss."
He flipped her—pinned.
Gun at her head.
Heart pounding.
Her lips parted—whispers crawling out like worms.
The Choir was already inside her.
Jung Min stared.
She's gone. This isn't her anymore.
The shot rang out.
Blood in the grass.
And silence.
Azari walked onto the field. Quiet. Careful.
"She was the second?"
He nodded once. Eyes cold. Still.
"Yeah."
"...And the third?"
He stood, reloading slowly.
"We don't know where Baek Jihoon is."
Azari looked at the scorched sky.
"Then we better make him come to us."
Behind them, Mira's blade began to hum.
And then it cracked.
Just like the world around it.