"Father, Father, can you not hear?"
"Did the Demon King whisper a promise to me?"
"Calm yourself, my child!"
"That is only the sound of the wind through withered leaves."
Chii—chii—chii—chii!
Lightning crackled.
Germain not only evaded the serpent's snapping jaws but also countered with the Thunder Warhammer.
The terrible surge of lightning struck the monster, forcing it into a violent roll.
In the blink of an eye, the giant serpent was reduced to ashes.
A deep, resonant narrative melody continued to echo through the endless darkness.
"Clever child, do you wish to walk with me?"
"My daughters will serve you with utmost devotion."
"My daughters dance in the gardens every night."
"They dance, they sing, they sway, lulling you into sleep."
Under the command of Germain, the "Thunder Warhammer," a thunder dragon lunged forward, teeth bared, aiming for the crowned figure known as "Darkness."
But with a sharp strike from the scepter in Darkness's hand, the dragon was shattered.
Boom—
Electric sparks scattered in all directions, the fleeting light pushing back the darkness for a brief moment.
Yet, just as quickly, the shadows surged back, swallowing everything once again.
Germain plunged into the endless abyss of darkness.
"Father, father, did you see over there?"
"The demon king's daughters are standing in the shadows?"
"My son, my son, I can see clearly."
"They are just a few gray, ancient poplar trees."
Germain sensed it. Though the four "Wall Facers" silently approached through the darkness, they could not escape his eyes.
Once more, the "Thunder Warhammer" summoned a roaring thunder dragon, snapping at one of the Wall Facers.
At the same time, he unleashed his "Crimson Bow" and "Black Arrow," activating the powers of the "Collector's Head" and the "Deformed Limp Stalker."
The second Wall Facer was swiftly trapped within the Collector's Skull, a rare cabinet of curiosities, its struggle marked by sharp, clattering sounds.
The crawling, clawed appendage struck the third Wall Facer, leaving it gravely wounded as it fell backward with a muffled crash.
The final Wall Facer met the full force of Germain's Thunder Warhammer head-on, its body crackling with lightning as it stiffly sank to one knee.
"I love you. Your beauty draws me in."
"If you refuse, I will not hesitate to use force."
"Dad! Dad! He's coming for me!"
"The Demon King… it's hurting me so much!"
The chant of Darkness did not cease. It gripped its staff and swung it through the air toward Germain.
Germain swapped his Thunder Warhammer for the Funeral Blade and clashed it against the staff.
The impact rang out like a mountain collapsing and the earth cracking!
The entire space trembled under the force.
After a moment of silence, a deep male voice returned.
It sounded like a sigh, yet at the same time, like delight.
"Father's heart races in fear as he spurs his horse onward."
"He holds the moaning child tightly in his arms."
"At last, he reaches home."
"The child in his arms has already stopped breathing."
While Germain battled Darkness with Nen, the four Wall-Facers had already broken free from their own restraints.
Yet, in the face of such terrifying chaos, they dared not approach recklessly.
It wasn't until this moment, when the Demon King's narrative reached its end, that the four Wall-Facers seemed to receive a silent command.
They each retreated far from the battlefield between the demigods.
Then, they touched their instruments—piano, violin, flute, and harp—and began to play a new composition.
The sound carried an eerie quality.
It wasn't harsh, but strangely alluring.
It drew people in, like a spell, making them irresistibly follow the music deeper and deeper.
The melodies whispered in Germain's ear like a thousand mouths.
They caressed him like ghostly hands, sending shivers down his spine.
What should have been four solo pieces now intertwined seamlessly, forming a terrifying cage of sound.
The sinister music gnawed at Germain's Nen, weakening him with every note.
Germain had already lost all light in the dark world, and at this moment, even his perception and reflexes were withering, fading away.
This was the "Dark Sonata" — a force so terrifying it could drive someone blind and foolish.
Once again, Melody was trapped in that nightmare.
She dreamed of her friend picking up a flute and playing the horrifying piece said to have been composed by the "Demon King."
Melody could foresee the terrible future: her friend would die tragically after completing the first movement, and she, the listener, would become ugly and small.
She screamed in terror, pleading for her friend to stop, but her friend refused to listen, stubbornly continuing to play.
It was all too late.
Not only that, her friend turned toward her with a profoundly evil smile.
That sinister smile jolted Melody awake from the nightmare.
She realized she was lying in bed, drenched in sweat, the room shrouded in dim darkness.
Melody had returned from the nightmare to reality.
She rolled over and sat up, gasping for air, fearfully scanning the corners of her room, terrified that a demon with a flute might be lurking there.
Fortunately, nothing of the sort was there.
Melody stood up, intending to get a drink of water, but immediately sensed something was off outside her room — there was too much commotion.
Curious, she walked to the window and looked out. A dense crowd had gathered, chattering loudly, pointing at the sky.
Her brow furrowed as she looked up, realizing how disoriented she had been just after waking, having completely ignored such an obvious change.
The dark sky was dominated by a waning moon, casting a blood-red glow.
The coastal fortresses, the townhouses, the roads, the rivers and mountains of the New Continent were all bathed in this strange, crimson light.
"What… what is happening?"
Melody could hardly believe her eyes, waking in the middle of the night to witness such a bizarre scene.
But the next moment sent shivers down her spine.
The "Dark Sonata" that had ended in her dream began to play again in her ears. She shivered, glancing back.
The room was pitch black. There was nothing there.
Yet the flute solo had not ended. It continued relentlessly.
Melody could not see the performer, yet she could hear the music. Though she had never heard the second movement of the "Dark Sonata," it was already etched into her mind.
There was no mistake — this was the second movement of the "Dark Sonata."
The first movement of the nightmare had ended, and now the second movement was beginning.
Both pointed to a single, undeniable truth.
Something—or someone—had played the Dark Sonata, and Melody, who had once listened to it and seen the entire score, was now forced to establish a connection with it.
She fell to her knees in shock, drenched in sweat, as if all the strength in her body had been drained away.
After a short while, a hazy, blurred image began to form before her eyes.
She saw a silver light, floating in the air like a firefly.
It flickered, vanished, then reappeared—over and over again.
The ominous aura emanating from the vision made Melody's heart race even faster.
Yet, from that silver light, she sensed something strangely familiar.
She remembered.
Mr. Germain had just left the Coastal Fortress today, heading to the Dark Continent…
This was information only a select few on the inside could know.
Through nearly two years of effort, Melody had earned the trust of both Germain and the Hunter Association.
Of course, she knew about this.
Could it really be Mr. Germain?
It had to be him.
Melody couldn't help but recall the conversation she had with Germain when they first met on Greed Island.
Back then, he had said to her:
"I support your desire to destroy all copies of the Dark Sonata, and I support you in doing it."
"You will need trustworthy companions and more knowledge. When you are ready, go find Dwun and List, and tell them—I have given you permission."
"Remember, once you choose to walk with us, there is no turning back. Just like the solo you have in your memory."
"Once the music begins, it cannot be stopped. It will etch itself into your mind forever, becoming an unshakable nightmare."
Melody's teeth chattered, her eyes wide with fear, and her breathing grew ragged.
Yet, somehow, her strength returned, almost imperceptibly, urging her to rise.
Her hand reached for the weapon she had always cherished—her flute.
Alone, Melody began walking toward the basement.
*******
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