Zero didn't turn the page immediately.
The torchlight in the records room flickered with a rhythm too steady, too deliberate, like the flames themselves were breathing in time with his thoughts. The chronicle lay open before him, the words etched in that timeless, flowing script, recounting the endless duel—the clash of blades, the shadow and starlight that cut against the Devil King for seven unrelenting days.
He should have turned the page, hungered for what came next. But instead, he just stared.
The silence around him pressed close, almost suffocating. Lilith stood nearby, her own presence quiet but perceptible, watching without interruption. She had grown accustomed to his silences by now, perhaps understanding that when Zero's eyes went distant like this, it wasn't just reading—it was unraveling.
His fingers traced the edge of the parchment, not quite touching the ink. Two swordsmen, he thought. One shadow, one starlight. A balance.
