Inside the Opera Epiclese, right at the center of the stage, Furina's solitary figure stood stranded upon the platform that had belonged exclusively to her for centuries.
From the stands, countless pairs of eyes stared back, each filled with absolute bewilderment. The Hydro Archon, currently on trial, had just cried out a completely unfamiliar name to the rafters. The verdict had already been rendered by the machine, establishing a law that no mortal or god could alter.
Who could possibly save her now?
Neuvillette stared toward the stage, a sudden, deeply ominous premonition churning in his chest. Down in the spectator stands, the Traveler and Paimon were equally paralyzed, stunned by the finality of the death sentence, and shaken by the sheer, hysterical desperation in Furina's final cry. This was never the outcome they had desired. They had only wanted to pry open her defenses and uncover the secrets she was harboring.
They had acted out of a desperate need to stop the prophecy from devouring Fontaine. Yet destiny moved in vicious, ironic circles; every desperate measure they had taken behind her back had seamlessly woven itself into the prophecy's final act.
Every single Fontainian would dissolve into the waters, leaving only the Hydro Archon, weeping upon her throne.
In the very next heartbeat, Neuvillette's dark premonition manifested into grim reality.
A violent tremor shook the foundations of the building. The sea levels of the Primordial Sea began to surge at a terrifying velocity, rendering all previous efforts to contain it utterly futile.
In this hour of absolute crisis, the final curtains of the Opera Epiclese began to rise.
The Oratrice Mecanique d'Analyse Cardinale suddenly vibrated with immense power, shedding a faint, iridescent shroud of light that enveloped the entire stage. Focalors, Furina's pure divinity, had finally descended.
She looked as fragile as a gentle breeze, a faint, melancholic smile playing upon her lips as the shimmering light blocked the prying eyes of the audience. She stepped gracefully toward Furina, extending her arms to pull Furina, who was, in essence, herself, into a tight embrace.
"There, there... it's all going to be over soon," Focalors murmured, her voice sounding ethereal and distant as her body radiated a divine, comforting glow. She gently stroked Furina's head, her tone laced with a deep, unerasable guilt. "You've had a long, hard journey these past few years."
Focalors had never truly left Fontaine. Sealed within the Oratrice, she had been the silent witness to every single event over the last five centuries. She had watched every trial, every opera, and every single clumsy, desperate performance Furina had put on to maintain the facade.
She held her now with the tenderness of a mother, yet her expression possessed the unyielding resolve of a mountain.
Furina's tears flowed freely. She repeatedly wiped her face with her sleeves, but the weeping simply would not stop.
She truly wasn't the Hydro Archon. She was merely an actress playing a part. She possessed no grand elemental authority, no absolute commanding presence, and she didn't even own a Vision. She was, for all intents and purposes, just an ordinary human.
Yet, despite being human, she had followed every line of the script to the letter, all to fulfill that distant, seemingly impossible promise Focalors had made to her so long ago. She had endured for five hundred years. Sometimes, a single sentence is all it takes to shackle a person's entire life. Furina had been locked away in a psychological prison for five centuries, exhausting every ounce of her spirit to perfect a seemingly trivial role, never knowing if the promised miracle would ever come to fruition.
Only at this exact moment did she finally receive the validation she so desperately needed. It had all been worth it.
"Rest now," Focalors whispered, gently cupping her face to wipe away the tears. Her gaze drifted past the hazy veil of light, looking toward the figure approaching from the distance. "Leave the rest to the adults."
Heavy, measured footsteps echoed across the stage. Neuvillette had stepped onto the platform, locking eyes with Focalors through the shimmering barrier of light. In that singular instant, the Chief Justice understood everything.
"Long time no see, Neuvillette," Focalors greeted him with a playful, elegant curtsy. Her face bore a slight hint of apology as she sighed softly. "The former Hydro Archon, Lady Egeria, committed a sin by turning Oceanids into humans, and was judged a criminal by the world..."
Focalors lifted the hem of her pristine white dress, dancing across the stage on her tiptoes as the Hydro element began to saturate the air at a frantic, volatile pace.
"And it seems I've inherited some of Lady Egeria's less-than-stellar traits… like making deals with a Descender from beyond this world..." She let out a soft, melodic laugh. "So, just look at me as a criminal as well! I'm sorry, Neuvillette."
The moment her words fell, Neuvillette, the young Sovereign of Water, felt a violent jolt reverberate through his entire being. A sensation akin to an electric shock rippled across his body, signaling imminent peril.
A brilliant, golden light erupted, illuminating every square inch of the Opera Epiclese. A massive golden gateway manifested out of thin air, immediately arresting everyone's attention. An ancient, primordial pressure descended like a heavy shroud, sending an icy shiver down the spines of everyone present.
Within the portal, the Moon Demon had crossed the boundaries of dimensions to harvest his promised fruit.
The Sorcerer had arrived.
The violent tremors of the earthquake, the chaotic surges of Hydro energy, and the panicked roars of the crowd were instantly silenced, smothered by an absolute weight. The sprawling interior of the Opera Epiclese fell dead silent.
Not a single sound broke the stillness.
Outside, a panicked exodus was already underway. Fleeing citizens stared in horror at the rampaging floodwaters, yet the terrifying aura emanating from within the opera house forced them to look back in sheer dread. In the chaos, several people vanished instantly upon making contact with the rising tide.
"It's the Primordial Sea water! We're doomed!"
Though the Ark of Salvation from the Fortress of Meropide had already breached the surface, such preparations were nothing more than a drop in the bucket against a worldwide cataclysm.
Back inside the court, on the central stage, Focalors offered a dignified, respectful bow to the descending entity before stepping aside of her own accord. Neuvillette's elemental aura froze instantly, utterly suppressed by the newcomer's sheer weight. His eyes trembled with quiet shock.
Zoran slowly drifted down from above, hovering directly over the center of the stage.
Neuvillette recognized this entity, but the entity before him now was entirely different from their previous encounter. Last time, the being had tightly concealed his power, projecting nothing more than an enigmatic, mysterious aura. But now, the Moon was unveiling its full, unfettered majesty.
The demon wasn't even intentionally targeting him, yet that casual, incredibly dense pressure was still something the Hydro Dragon found nearly impossible to resist.
Zoran calmly scanned his surroundings. "You have both performed remarkably well," he noted, giving a slight, approving nod toward the dual facets of the Hydro Archon.
Directly above them, the Oratrice was vibrating violently. Five hundred years' worth of concentrated judgment energy was rapidly coalescing into a massive, shimmering guillotine. This place was a stage, but in Focalors' original design, it was also meant to serve as her execution scaffold. She had simply intended to follow her script to its tragic conclusion.
Had Zoran not intervened, her plan would have carried out seamlessly. But the demon had arrived. And with his arrival, the trajectory of fate shattered.
Zoran glanced up at the slowly rotating blade of judgment and chuckled softly. The guillotine was preparing to drop, its designated target being Focalors. It was designed to descend with unparalleled, absolute force, executing the condemned Hydro Archon and completely shattering the Divine Throne of the Hydro Archon in the process.
"It would be a pity to let such immense power go to waste," Zoran murmured.
He casually extended a hand toward the sky. The descending guillotine froze instantly in mid-air. Within a thousandth of a second, the massive blade warped, compressed, and reverted into a sphere of pure, unadulterated energy.
With a gentle flick of his fingers, Zoran drew the glowing orb of power toward himself, effortlessly sweeping it into his sleeve.
Everything became perfectly still.
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