Adrian won with an overwhelming advantage, but since HE is part of the Astral Express, the prizes were transferred to Stelle and March 7th.
It didn't matter. HE didn't care about prizes at all; no amount of awards was as tangible as a cup of milk tea.
At the [Interastral Tournament Festival] venue, the organizer, Giovanni, was talking to Sampo, who hadn't appeared for a long time:
"I really didn't expect the final mystery player to be HIM... Oh, was this also part of your arrangement, Brother Giovanni?"
Sampo hadn't expected that besides the original Hook, there was such an expert. Adrian played personally with infinite HP; how was anyone supposed to fight that?
"Hahaha, how is that possible? Compared to artificially scripted plays, I prefer to see the [Elation] ending that develops naturally from events."
"However, Brother Sampo, as a fellow [Masked Fool], you seem unwilling to ever share your aesthetic insights... why is that?"
"Mmh, let me think about how to say this without offending anyone..." Sampo thought for a moment. "Let's put it this way. Among our group, there are a few who don't quite understand how to [Measure Limits]... I won't mention names directly."
"Brother Giovanni should know who caused that bit of fun that came out of Pier Point, right?"
Giovanni hummed lightly: "Oh~ hearing you say that, I think I understand whose handiwork it is."
"...I don't like dealing with those guys; it's so boring!" Sampo waved his hand.
"Everyone's pursuit of [Elation] is different. Why waste energy imposing one's own aesthetics on others?"
"Heh... jokes that are too heavy-handed bring trouble. When there's too much trouble, interesting things... cease to be interesting. You get what I mean, right?"
"Hahaha, I understand... Speaking of which, [That Friend] seems to be preparing to head to Penacony. Do you not plan to...?"
"Ugh! If possible, I'd rather never deal with her again in this lifetime..."
Daring to target the [Eternity] Aeon (although she herself didn't know), the result is obvious. That colleague from the [Tavern] has already been regarded as a key target by the Church and HIM.
...
Meanwhile, Blake, carrying a large bag of Church specialties, arrived at the [Tavern] located at the end of the universe.
Blake suddenly pulled a sharp drift, the black and white church outfit throwing out sparks in the void.
He smoothly took out a bar of pure white soap engraved with scriptures from the gift bag, swung it like a shot put, and smashed it toward the target [Tavern], chanting:
"Eternal Cleansing Light! Purify your filthy place!"
"ORA ORA ORA ORA ORA!"
...
Ever-Flame Mansion. Ifrit lay paralyzed before the throne, his body like a collapsed mountain, no longer having the strength to struggle.
His previous declaration to burn everything had actually attracted an [Eternity] Emanator and a Galaxy Ranger... This ending was indeed beyond his expectations.
"...It seems the outcome is already destined." His deep voice cracked like charcoal in ashes.
"They are still alive, and so are you." Acheron's voice was tempered with a chill, marking the last path of survival for Ifrit: "As far as I'm concerned, you still have a choice. Leave that music box... and go."
Acheron's gaze turned to her side. Freesna remained silent, her robes moving without wind. That usually gentle face was now as gloomy as ice, the emotions rolling in her eyes bottomless. Acheron rarely saw her like this.
"Choice? The bloody path of [Destruction] has never tolerated hesitation." Ifrit coughed heavily. The imaginary energy in his body was flowing away irretrievably like water from a burst dam, and the jumping flames were gradually dimming.
"Fire Demon of Tophet... even if you offer your life to that Aeon, you will not receive HIS favor."
"Ranger, you walk on the narrow [Hunt]; naturally, you cannot understand."
"We come from fire, are born bathed in fire, spread, burn, and destroy, until the firewood burns out, leaving only dead ash."
Ifrit's flames flickered, just like his life that was about to end.
"Burning is the life of a Fire Demon, the beginning and the end. We are born towards death, only to implement a profile of the universal truth: All things are born for [Destruction]."
"Your companions don't seem to think so; they fought for a chance for you to live..." Acheron's gaze swept over the scattered remains of the Fire Demons in the distance.
Half a scorched zither string was wrapped around a broken beam, the end of the string tied to a burnt music score. And that poison blade that bestowed pain upon [Elation] eventually made itself part of the River Styx.
"Pity. Arrogant delusions must eventually be paid for with a price." Freesna and Acheron's eyes met briefly, a silent understanding congealing in the air.
Ifrit's voice lowered, carrying a strange, almost nostalgic calm: "They are my children. Like the former me, they are flames that have not yet turned white-hot. They are still young; I will not blame them."
"But my flame is already hoarse, and time is running out. Do you see the Planet of Festivities in the distance? I want to bring purgatory there... So before that, I must cross over you."
"Why?"
Freesna finally spoke, her voice so cold it carried no ripples. The tip of her staff gathered a heart-palpitating light, slowly pointing at Ifrit. The other party's burning pupils locked onto the two powerful existences:
"Because on the path THEY opened up, you have walked further than me... [Emanators]."
Acheron remained silent, still as a deep pool.
"You cannot hide your identity. Draw that blade. We will certainly remain here; we are destined to fight to the death because I [Choose] to do so."
"[Destruction] is a magnificent moment. If one survives despicably... this life would be too long."
"Even if that final answer..." Freesna's voice was like congealing ice, "Might be... your own annihilation?"
"The answer is not important; what is important is that it exists, just as you all exist."
Ifrit's flames suddenly blazed, as if making the final burning declaration of his life, "Everything exists to be [Destroyed]—Emanators are no exception."
"Even in the void, beautiful dreams can be born. The so-called impossible things are just things that have not yet arrived."
"I grant your wish." Acheron's fingertips gently rubbed the hilt of her blade.
Ifrit's laughter echoed in the empty mansion.
"Hahahaha... You will witness the most brilliant and violent fire in this world. May this burning illuminate your bottomless dreams."
"Bottomless dreams... indeed." Acheron nodded slightly, thousands of worlds seeming to live and die deep in her eyes: "But you misunderstood one thing."
Her hand rested steadily on the sword guard, and an invisible pressure began to diffuse quietly.
"This blade remains in its sheath not out of pity or contempt. It is a secret I do not wish to reveal to others, but as a return of respect..."
"...I will be honest with you."
As the voice fell, the aura around Acheron suddenly became profound. At the instant her aura captured all of Ifrit's senses, Freesna took a step forward. The light that had been gathering at the tip of her staff for a long time suddenly erupted.
It was not a violent energy impact, but an extreme, cold radiance, as if [Eternity] itself materialized in her hands.
The air froze instantly, making the sound of fine ice crystals shattering. The flow of imaginary energy was forcibly anchored.
Freesna's voice lowered, carrying a trace of an almost imperceptible sigh:
"May death end your long burning dream..."
She respected Ifrit's choice, giving this martyr the end he sought, fulfilling the responsibility brought by [Eternity].
The light of the staff reached its peak, completely swallowing Ifrit's silhouette.
"...Guide thy soul... to the waking cosmos."