Germain did not ask for the "Trinity Elixir."
Instead, he was transported directly to the Gate upon the Wall of Darkness.
Before him stood a towering wall wedged between two colossal World Trees, its surface carved with rolling patterns that resembled crashing waves.
Yet, unlike the Gate of the Deep Sea, these waves felt different—closer in meaning to black mist, even if they looked like the ocean's tide.
This time, there was no "Wall Facer" standing guard, no one to hurl him away into the distance.
There was only the gate, and silence stretching endlessly around him.
Germain turned to glance back. From here, he could see the volcanic range rooted at the base of the World Trees.
But the volcanoes, once roaring with molten fury, now lay still and lifeless. They resembled sleeping giants, their flames extinguished, their smoke gone.
Above them, hanging in the night sky, was the blood-red crescent moon.
It appeared fuller than before, its broken edges slowly knitting together.
Roughly two-thirds of the cycle remained before it would become whole.
Germain turned back toward the gate, lifting the lantern gifted to him by the "Old Giant of Greed and Madness."
The lantern was both light and key.
He hooked his fingers into its iron ring, raising it high.
Unlike most lanterns, this one glowed not with gold or fire, but with a silvery radiance.
The moment Germain lifted it, the gate groaned and began to open inward, revealing nothing but pure darkness within.
He stepped through.
The heavy doors rumbled shut behind him, vanishing into nothingness.
Germain now stood in an empty, endless void, the only light coming from the lantern in his hand.
Holding it aloft, he walked forward cautiously.
His footsteps echoed in the silence.
Suddenly, faint music drifted to his ears, soft and distant, as if played deep within a cavern.
He stopped for a moment, listening closely.
It was the sound of a piano.
The piece was Clair de Lune by Debussy.
The melody did not slow his steps—it guided them.
Lantern in hand, Germain followed the music into the darkness.
The sound of a violin rose, weaving its melody through the air.
The piano still lingered, but now it retreated shyly into the background, like a modest woman standing behind the violin.
Another passage came.
The violin's voice faded, replaced by the soft notes of a flute.
The piano played the same role as before—subtle, supporting, almost deferential.
Finally, both flute and piano slipped into darkness, leaving only the gentle plucking of a harp to take the stage.
Four instruments.
Sometimes playing together, sometimes in solitary brilliance, they carried the entire performance of Moonlight to its end.
Just then, Germain found himself standing before the performers.
He couldn't make out their true forms.
By the faint light of his lantern, he saw only their feet—each toe larger than his entire body.
From them came a resonance he knew all too well…
They were all Wallfacers.
The four Wallfacers did not block his path.
Nor did they attack.
When the final note faded, they simply withdrew, retreating a few steps into the shadows.
Before Germain, a wide avenue stretched forward.
The lantern's light could not illuminate its end, but he could sense it clearly.
He was drawing closer.
Closer to Him.
"Darkness" sat upon His throne.
A crown rested on His head, His entire body swallowed by shadows—or perhaps, He was the shadows themselves.
Lazily, He rested His chin on one hand.
Only when Germain approached did He lower His hand and straighten His posture.
"I trust 'The Deep Sea' has already told you everything?"
His voice was ancient, carrying the weariness of someone in his forties or fifties.
"Whether it was 'Curse of Resentment' or 'Flesh and Blood,' you carried them out well."
"Now, only one final task remains for you…"
"Will you calmly accept your 'Destined Death'?"
"I will not die."
Germain set the lantern down by his feet.
Darkness chuckled, a low, rasping sound.
"I thought so. And yet… whatever you do, it is nothing but futility—just as it is for the Deep Sea."
"The gods have already set the cause and effect of your fate. No matter how you struggle in between, in the end, you will still walk toward your 'Destined Death.'"
"'Curse of Resentment' and 'Flesh and Blood' could not escape it. The Deep Sea cannot escape it. Neither can I."
"Even if we revive countless times, we will never escape fate."
Slowly, He rose from the throne, towering and majestic.
"All flesh and soul born into this world cannot escape the chains of dreams and the weaving of fate… You truly understand nothing."
"Don't you see yet? Whether you come to me of your own will, or I go to find you, the ending remains the same. The only difference… is time."
"You are nothing more than one of the pitiful few who managed to walk the path of stars, only to arrive here burdened with a cruel destiny."
Then, He suddenly raised His head and began to sing.
It was not a hymn of hope, but a ballad of terror and despair.
The four musicians surrounding Him joined in, their instruments weaving a dreadful harmony.
"Who is that riding through the night and the storm?"
"It is a father, carrying his child."
"He holds the boy close in his arms."
"He presses him tightly, trying to keep him warm."
Germain's eyes narrowed. Just a few lines were enough for him to recognize it.
Schubert's famous ballad—Erlkönig, The Elf King.
"My son, why do you hide your face in fear?"
"Father… don't you see the Erlkönig there?"
"The Erlkönig, with his crown and flowing robe?"
"My son, that is but a wisp of mist."
A sharp tearing sound split the night.
Germain reacted instantly. His hand tightened, and he drew forth the Sacred Moonlight Greatsword.
With a resounding clang, the blade met a weapon that descended from the heavens.
It was a colossal staff, towering like the World Tree itself, its sharp end clashing directly against his sword.
Crack. Crack.
The Sacred Moonlight Greatsword shattered. The faint azure glow that had just awakened scattered into nothingness.
Germain's heart sank. Without the Moonlight's blessing, his greatsword was nothing more than a common blade.
"Come with me, my dear child," the voice sang sweetly.
"I shall play delightful games with you."
"By the sea, there bloom many flowers of five colors…"
"My mother had many garments woven with golden threads."
The massive scepter swung down.
At Germain's feet, the last source of light—the lantern—shattered into fragments.
Darkness swallowed the world whole.
In the pitch-black void, where not even an outstretched hand could be seen, Germain relied on his transcendent perception.
He sensed an enormous presence surging toward him from the front.
Its form was strange—part serpent, part dragon.
All he knew was that it had crawled down from that colossal scepter, towering like the World Tree itself.
The beast hissed sharply, baring its fangs as it lunged at him.
And still, the Demon King sang.
*******
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