Night swallowed the wasteland slowly.
Cold winds swept across the endless dead plains while distant lightning flickered silently beyond fractured mountains. The cave behind Satre and Gramia pulsed faintly with ancient draconic energy, but neither woman slept.
Because somewhere far away—
Shiro was still suffering.
Satre sat quietly near the cavern entrance, knees drawn slightly toward her chest while Gurtër rested across her lap. Golden light flickered softly along the divine blade's edge, reacting to the unstable emotions buried beneath her calm expression.
Her future sight kept activating involuntarily now.
Ten timelines.
Ten minutes.
Again.
And again.
And again.
Every future spiraled around the same thing.
Shiro.
Bleeding.
Fighting.
Breaking.
Enduring.
Gramia watched her silently from across the fire.
"You haven't stopped looking since we got here."
Satre didn't answer immediately.
Because denying it would've been pointless.
"…If I stop," she whispered softly, "what if I miss the future where he dies?"
The words hit harder than Gramia expected.
Silence settled briefly between them.
The flames crackled quietly.
Then Gramia sighed softly and leaned back against the cavern wall.
"You really love him."
Satre's fingers tightened slightly around Gurtër.
"…Yes."
No hesitation.
No embarrassment.
Just truth.
That answer made Gramia smile faintly.
Not because it was surprising.
Because she understood it completely now.
Shiro had that effect on people.
Even broken as he was.
Even shattered beneath endless suffering—
he still made people want to stand beside him.
Then suddenly—
Satre froze.
Her future sight activated violently.
Golden light flashed across her eyes.
Ten futures unfolded instantly.
In seven—
the cave collapsed.
In two—
something inside the cavern killed them.
But in the final future—
Shiro stood.
Not kneeling.
Not chained.
Standing.
Bloodied.
Changed.
Satre's breath caught instantly.
Gramia noticed immediately.
"What did you see?"
Satre slowly lifted her head.
"…He got stronger."
Far away—
inside Raiku's crimson arena—
another explosion of destructive energy shook fractured dimensions.
Satre could feel it now.
The connection between them had become clearer.
Not physical.
Something deeper.
Like their souls were pulling toward each other across realities.
Gramia stared quietly at the flickering fire.
"Raiku is forcing him to evolve."
Satre nodded slowly.
"But it's killing him."
Another silence followed.
Then Gramia finally spoke again.
"You know… most people in the Successor Games know who Shiro is already."
Satre looked toward her.
Gramia's silver eyes reflected the flames quietly now.
"The gods talk."
Her expression darkened slightly.
"Especially about bloodlines they fear."
Satre's hand tightened again.
"The Destruction Goddess."
"Yes."
Gramia looked toward the cavern ceiling thoughtfully.
"Lyius and Gold Kyoko are anomalies among the Ten Base Gods. The others maintain balance through systems, territories, politics, influence…"
Her eyes narrowed slightly.
"But Lyius?"
A faint smile crossed Gramia's face.
"She simply destroys problems."
Despite herself—
Satre smiled a little too.
That sounded exactly like Shiro.
Gramia continued quietly.
"The problem is… the other gods became terrified after Shiro was born."
Satre's expression faded again.
"Because of his bloodline?"
"Partly."
Gramia folded her arms loosely.
"But mostly because he survived."
The cavern fell silent again.
Then Gramia finally explained.
"Children born directly from divine blood almost never stabilize naturally. Especially destruction bloodlines. Most collapse under their own power before adulthood."
Satre's eyes widened slightly.
"But Shiro survived."
"Yes."
Gramia looked directly at her now.
"And not only survived. He kept evolving."
The fire crackled harder as distant thunder rolled across the dead world outside.
"The gods started realizing something terrifying," Gramia said softly. "Shiro wasn't merely inheriting destruction."
Her voice lowered.
"He was adapting it."
That sentence lingered heavily in the cavern.
Because they both understood what that meant.
Shiro's growth had never been normal.
Pain strengthened him.
Suffering refined him.
Every near death experience pushed him further.
As if destruction itself wanted him alive.
Satre lowered her gaze quietly.
"…He's suffered his whole life."
"Yes."
Gramia's expression softened slightly.
"And somehow he's still kind."
That part hurt the most.
Because it was true.
After everything—
Shiro still protected people.
Still loved people.
Still smiled.
Even now.
Even while Raiku tortured him across fractured realities.
Satre suddenly stood.
The fire shifted violently around her divine aura.
Gramia blinked slightly.
"Satre?"
Her golden eyes burned now.
Not with rage.
Resolve.
"We're wasting time."
Gurtër slid onto her back smoothly as divine magic began flowing around her body once more.
"We get stronger."
The air around the sword distorted slightly.
Reality itself avoiding the blade's edge instinctively.
Gramia slowly smiled and stood beside her.
"There's the Hero's granddaughter."
Satre glanced toward the deeper tunnels beyond the cavern.
Her future sight activated one final time.
This time—
she saw a tower.
Then Shiro.
Then war.
And standing above all of it—
the gods themselves.
Her expression hardened.
"Let's move."
Together—
the two women descended deeper into the ancient cavern while the dead world howled endlessly above them.
And somewhere far away—
Raiku looked down at Shiro's evolving power and finally understood something dangerous.
The boy was beginning to survive the suffering too well.