"Light, why is the child of essence here?" Helen asked, her body stiffening at the sight.
When Light spoke, it was as if all of history was speaking through him. "The child of essence isn't ordinary. He is the very first of his kind."
"In what way? A child born from essence is rare but not unheard of. What makes him different?" Helen questioned as she approached the Apostle.
"He is one of three," the Apostles replied, revealing a tray that held Helen's heart.
"How is that any different? Over the centuries, countless beings born of essence have come and gone—some one in ten, others one in a hundred," she retorted, pulling out Danquery. However, unlike when she removed her hearts, Danquery attempted to attach itself to her, as though trying to replace her hearts. Ignoring its actions, she wrenched it from her chest, causing her golden-crimson blood to gush out. "He's no different."
The Apostles stood silent, watching as a film formed around Light against the backdrop of her blood.
Helen placed Danquery onto the tray and stretched out her other arm toward her hearts, uttering the word "Devour." A mouth grew on her palm and began to feast on the hearts. Light was shocked by the sight, but, since he had no control over his body, he could not react.
Once Helen had finished and healed herself, the Apostles spoke again. "He's a Progenitor."
The words hit Helen like a bucket of cold water. Regaining her composure, she exclaimed, "What?" She turned to the unconscious Alexander, lying at the center of the formation. "Say that again. I think I lost a lot of blood, and I'm a little dizzy. Can you repeat that?"
They had caught her off guard. "This child of essence is one of Deity, Human, and Magus."
"Hmughm, humughm— you, uh, you... say... hmm, uhhmm." Helen was at a loss for words, unable to form a coherent sentence.
Despite her confusion, the Apostles continued, "There's more."
"What more could there be after that bombshell? Huh, what more?" Helen bit her nails, realizing she had underestimated the situation. Alexander was the only being she had never truly paid attention to, believing him to be merely the 'essence child of Martin, not a blood.' And now the Apostles had revealed this.
The Apostles relished Helen's reactions. With her emotions restored, her expressions and actions became more pronounced.
"Gerald wasn't the only inheritor of a previous sin; so was he."
"Wai, wai, wait... I think Danquery messed with my thinking and hearing process. Did I just hear you say a non-candidate is an inheritor of a sin?Then what, are you going to tell me that he's related to some first-generation Deity?"
"His mother is, but it is the same."
"Whoa, wow, wow, wow, I messed up, I really messed up. I messed up, I really, really messed up..." Helen kept repeating the words, her mind racing as she tried to process the revelations.
"Helen, Helen, come on, snap out of it!" They shook her from her stupor.
"I'm fine. I'm just… not processing well. Let's put aside his status as an inheritor and try to understand the rest."
"No can do. You can't set one aside without the other. After all, we did lie."
For a moment, that word brought Helen a strange relief—only for it to be taken away in the next breath.
"He is one in four, not three. We had to be certain before saying anything."
"What now? Is he from a different plane?"
"In concept, yes. In origin, no. He is of the Other Place."
"No, no, no, no! That's impossible. His very existence is impossible. Are you certain you weren't deceived?"
"Right back at you. He carries the essential signatures of Wintervile and Salamander, as do the Five Seasonal Weapons. You know where they originate—tools brought from the Other Place. How foolproof was your plan? However complex, it was still a simple one. Its success should not have been possible, yet here we are. Even accounting for the time reversal caused by your berserk state, it still should have failed. That is how it is, how it should be, and how it must be. Your plan and success is something that must always be examined."
"Say no more, Apostles." Helen rose. "Contact the others. Have them meet me in the White World. An emergency summons is in session."
"No can do, Avatar. Finish what you started. Decide the fate of that child."
Helen looked at Alexander, truly seeing him for the first time. She walked to the center of the formation, lifted his unconscious body, and laid him gently against a wall. Then she returned and released forty‑one marbles onto the array.
"Those are soul orbs, aren't they? What are you trying to do?"
"These are the souls of the remaining candidates." She turned the spatial bracelet on her wrist and drew out two racks filled with weapons and artifacts.
"Aren't they supposed to be in the cycle of reincarnation?" They leaned forward, trying to follow her actions.
"Only the man married to that Martin has entered the cycle."
She poured the weapons and artifacts onto the formation.
"Then what did Titan suffer for? That man didn't have the fortune and destiny to justify such a causality."
She began spreading the orbs, weapons, and artifacts evenly.
"That man did not bear the fate alone. It was the combined destiny of all forty‑two candidates. That was the price Titan paid. Technically, all forty‑two have already entered the cycle—the orbs are the only thing preventing it. I am merely completing what has already been paid for."
"Then why the rush? Weren't you meant to take your time? And what are those trash?"
"They are trinkets. Since that man was blessed, so too should they be. I need to reach the White World soon. Oh—here." She handed a ring to the Apostles. "A gift for Light."
They examined it. "It's just an ordinary ring."
"As it should be. Not everything must be divine or magical. Some things are meant to remain ordinary."
"Makes sense," they said in unison. "So? What are you waiting for?"
"Something bothers me. Who is that?" Helen pointed toward a woman slumped over a desk in a room filled with others.
"You noticed. She is the mother, personal maid, and assistant of the child of essence. Her name is Evlyn—he calls her EVY. Her presence is unusual. She gives off a suppressive sensation."
"I don't feel suppressed. Just… uncomfortable being near her. Regardless—"
Helen raised both hands and slammed them onto the formation, unleashing a vast surge of divine force.
The villa and the night sky were swallowed in blinding light.
In contrast to the blinding light in "Melt," the darkness of the plane began to stir and gather. Those who had been asleep were awakening. Old monsters took their first steps once more, and the planes stood on the verge of an unprecedented shift.
In a dimly lit chamber, where only a single round table was faintly illuminated by the soft glow of fluorescent ores, figures gathered—beings cloaked in black, shrouded in living darkness.
"Are we all here?" the figure seated at the forefront spoke.
"The Fifth and the Twelfth are yet to arrive," another replied, their voice alluring and bewitching, yet laced with vicious intent.
"Imprudence. We are the Great Star's loyal servants. By Their grace, we were granted power and authority. Our existence is by Their design. This delay is blasphemy against the very name of the Great Star.Second, you shall bear the consequences of their absence."
"Watch your mouth, First," the tension in the room thickened as the once-alluring voice turned cold and lethal, "unless you have no further need for it."
Bloodlust filled the room, suffocating the very air, yet none were visibly bothered. They sat in silence, unmoved. The chamber hung in suspense as the First and Second heightened their intent. Just as either was about to act, a cheerful voice barged in, shattering the tension.
Materializing into the room were the Fifth and the Twelfth.
"Sorry, we're late, guys," said the Twelfth, with the Fifth following, "we were in the middle of something."
"You two are late," the First expressed hostility toward them. However, the pair, long accustomed to the First's temperament whenever matters concerning the Great Star arose, felt no threat.
"Yeah, yeah, we already know," they replied in unison, giggling as they took their seats.
The First boiled with rage at their disrespect, but swallowed it and resumed.
"After many eras and epochs, once again, all Thirteen Crowns gather at the Round Table under the guiding radiance of the Great Star."
"Can you stop with the theatrics," said the Third, "and get on with it? We have no time. Unlike you, some of us had to abandon important matters in haste just to be here."
"Do not be impatient," the First replied, though their mind rained curses upon the Third. "I have received a letter from the Zeroth Crown, written by the Great Star themselves. The Great Star has begun to move. We have been given a mission."
"Are you certain it is the Great Star," the Sixth spoke, "and not merely a child exchanging letters with a pen pal?"
"Judging the Zeroth Crown and the Great Star is an unforgivable crime," the First said coldly. "I will pretend I heard nothing."
"We shall humor you for now," the Seventh added, "but if it turns out that the current incarnations of the Zeroth and the Great Star bear no memory of their true nature…"
The Seventh did not finish; they did not need to. The implication settled heavily over the table.
"Speak," the Thirteenth finally said, their voice authoritative, cutting through the silence. "What does the Great Star demand of us?"
Far from the Roundtable and its gathering of unseen authorities, far from the reach of the Thirteen and their whispers, the winds of Thnētós‑Ortalis swept across a lonely mountain range.
High upon a sheer cliff, where the world fell away into clouds and endless sky, an aged man sat in stillness. His build was broad yet lean, strength refined by aeons rather than dulled by them. A wide, woven bamboo hat cast his face in shadow, and in one hand he rested a sheathed sword, as though it were merely an extension of his arm.
He wore long, layered robes of flowing fabric, bound at the waist by a broad sash; their folds moved gently with the wind—garments of an old yet renewed tradition, simple and dignified.
Behind him stood a single woman in a pristine servant's uniform, black and white arranged with exacting precision. Her posture was flawless, her presence calm, carrying the quiet authority of one who did not merely serve, but attended beings of legend.
Then the man spoke, his voice carried away by the wind.
"Seo… times are changing. Inconsistencies are on the rise. What we once knew is no longer the case. Even the smallest shifts ripple outward."
He paused, gazing into the vastness.
"In FEI's name, I pray that fortune and blessing may yet arise from these changes."
His brow tightened.
"Do you hear them, Seo? Do you feel their wailing? They wallow in grief. Their cries… their sadness, their pain, their sorrow. Their happiness, their joy as well. Can you hear them? Can you feel them?"
He exhaled slowly.
"They mourn. The plane mourns. Thnētós‑Ortalis mourns. She mourns the end of her children."
The man reclined against the stone, eyes closing beneath the bamboo brim.
"Shall we proceed to the White World?" the quiet observer finally spoke.
Her voice was calm, refined, carrying the composure of one who had stood beside 'eternity'. She was a woman of generous endowment and perfect proportion, yet her beauty was secondary to the absolute authority in her presence—the air of a true, 'eternal' attendant.
"Minny," the man said softly, "when is the auction?"
"In a few days, sir."
"Good." He turned onto his back, staring into the sky. "Send this summons to all Avatars and Apostles. In two weeks' time, a great sermon shall be held at the Grand Cathedral. All must attend."
He paused, then spoke the title with deliberate weight.
"Changes and Inconsistencies of the Era, and the Fire Lit Under the Belly of the Unknown."
"And if they ask who issued the order," he continued, "tell them who I am. Tell them the very first Avatar commands it. Tell them the Avatar of the God of Gods, FEI, has spoken."
Minny bowed slightly.
"Very well, sir. It shall be done."