Germain's head spun as he struggled within the twisted composition of the "Dark Sonata."
Even so, he forced himself to withstand the relentless assault coming from the Darkness.
The Darkness didn't strike quickly.
Each attack was measured, precise, and merciless—every blow aimed directly at his vital points, leaving no room for error.
Only during the brief pause at the end of the first movement did Germain finally find an opening to fight back.
He deflected each strike, returning the Darkness's techniques one by one.
But when the second movement began, the tide instantly turned against him.
Germain was once again overwhelmed, pushed back into a desperate defense with barely a moment to breathe.
His senses dulled with every passing second, forcing him to rely on faint perception just to track the Darkness's presence.
His movements grew increasingly distorted, stretched to their limits as he evaded each devastating strike.
Counterattacks became harder and harder, while taking injuries became all too easy.
Wounds accumulated across his body, yet the Darkness bore only a few shallow cuts he had managed to inflict.
If this continued, Germain feared he wouldn't last until the end of the second movement—he would be crushed before then.
But he had to endure.
He knew that at the close of the second movement, a fleeting interval would appear.
And if he could seize that moment, there was still a chance.
As if reading his thoughts, the Darkness let out a mocking laugh, a chilling sound that echoed through the endless void.
"You want to catch that fleeting moment? Foolish. No one has ever succeeded. Still… I'll humor you. Show me why you were the one who made it this far."
The Burial Blade clashed once again against the Demon King's Scepter, rippling waves of power surging outward.
Yet, even that violent impact couldn't disrupt the Dark Sonata.
The music continued.
But then—something strange happened.
A faint, almost imperceptible sound slipped in.
It was like static, a discordant note suddenly piercing through the eerie symphony.
In an instant, the flawless beauty of the melody fractured.
An ordinary listener might not have noticed.
But here—surrounded by those with unmatched mastery in music—there was no mistaking it.
"Darkness" frowned.
"To think a human would dare to play the Sonata of Darkness at this time? Ah… that must be the solo piece I once tossed into the human world on a whim—the Flute Movement."
"After enduring for so many years, was it greed that finally broke their restraint… or perhaps, a desperate longing for death?"
Amidst the chaotic resonance of sound, Germain felt a sudden spark ignite in his mind.
For the first time in what felt like an eternity, he caught his breath, his thoughts gradually regaining clarity.
Whoosh—
His silver wings unfurled, and with a sudden burst of speed, Germain abandoned "Darkness," his figure vanishing in a flash of light.
"Darkness" turned, a cold snort rumbling from his throat.
Half-divine power surged forth, condensing into a colossal hand that descended like a mountain, aiming to crush Germain beneath its weight.
Boom—
The strike shook the air, but Germain slipped away at the very edge of disaster.
His body shot forward like a streak of lightning, and in the blink of an eye, he appeared before one of the Wall-Facers.
The Sonata of Darkness had not stopped.
All four Wall-Facers still played their chosen instruments, each absorbed in their performance.
But the sudden intrusion of the Flute Sonata of Darkness had shattered the harmony.
The once-perfect rhythm wavered, twisting into imbalance.
That fleeting distortion was all Germain needed.
His senses sharpened, his will returned—and he made his choice.
With the Burial Blade gripped tightly in hand, he locked onto the Wall-Facer holding the flute.
From his other palm, he drew forth the Resentment Badge.
At once, the emblem erupted like a black hole, pulling violently at the Wall-Facer.
A piercing scream tore from the creature's throat as its body buckled under the force.
The flute's song broke off mid-note, silenced against its will.
Germain did not hesitate.
The Burial Blade stretched, transforming into the very scythe of death itself.
With a single, merciless stroke, he severed the Wall-Facer's head, claiming its life.
The first Wall-Facer—dead.
In that instant, the Hunter Badge pulsed in Germain's grasp, rewarding him with the weapon of his fallen foe—
the Flute of the Sonata of Darkness.
Germain turned, the dark instrument in hand.
"Darkness" stood silent, expression unreadable.
The three remaining Wall-Facers did not dare falter in their playing.
But terror gnawed at them with every note.
None of them knew who would be the next to fall.
Plop.
Melody collapsed onto the cold stone floor of the basement, her flute rolling off into the shadows.
Her hair had already fallen out completely, and her skin was now covered in grotesque, reptilian scales.
The buck teeth that once gave her a gentle, almost comical look had grown larger, monstrous.
Her fingernails had lengthened into thin, razor-sharp claws.
Once, she had been a Nen user.
Once, she had been a listener of melodies.
But now, she could barely endure a single movement of the cursed score before her body broke down.
Even so, she could not escape the inevitable—she had become a monster.
If anyone were to step into the basement now, they would surely recoil in terror at her twisted form.
And yet, Melody did not regret her choice.
She had blown into her flute with the resolve to die.
With that resolve came courage—the courage to shatter the Dark Sonata.
And with it, the hidden desire she had buried deep in her heart: revenge against the Demon King.
Through the darkness, she caught sight of a faint silver glow.
It was Mr. Germain.
She had managed to help him.
A small smile curved her lips.
But with her monstrous appearance, even that slight expression only made her face more horrifying.
So horrifying that even she herself was afraid to see what she had become.
On the damp, shadowed floor, she dragged herself forward like a wounded rat.
Her trembling fingers finally brushed against the flute that had rolled away.
She clutched it tightly in her palm.
Tears welled in her eyes and streamed down her face.
Her strength was fading.
Her breath grew weaker.
In the suffocating darkness, amid broken sobs, she waited for death to arrive.
But at that moment, memories she thought long buried stirred awake.
She remembered her past.
Her friends.
The days when they had all been members of the orchestra's woodwind section.
On that cursed night, just before they drank too much and dared to play the Demon King's melody, they had finished a performance—barely an hour before.
That night… what had they played again?
It was… yes… Beethoven's Symphony No. 5 in C minor.
The Symphony of Fate.
Now, as if echoing through her ears once more, the music of the entire orchestra returned to her.
She saw them—her companions.
Some who had died.
Some who had long since disappeared.
With trembling hands, Melody raised the flute to her lips.
Her body shook, but she steadied herself.
And then, with quiet determination, she joined them.
Together, they played that fierce, beautiful Symphony of Fate.
Melody would never yield.
An incredible silver light erupted from her body, dazzling brightly, as if a star had been plucked from the heavens and hidden in this tiny underground chamber.
The second "Wall-Facer" had perished, in the brief pause between the second and third movements.
This time, Germain gained the "Harp of the Dark Sonata."
At this moment, the "Flute of the Dark Sonata" and the "Harp of the Dark Sonata" were both in Germain's hands.
When he played them, they countered the piano and violin, clashing with their melodies in perfect opposition.
The two "Wall-Facers" who should have died instinctively played their instruments under the control of the "Flesh Badge."
The dissonance in the music caused all the cages and restraints that should have bound Germain to vanish completely.
The living "Wall-Facers" could not afford to stop either.
If they did, the "Dark Sonata" played by the deceased Wall-Facers would target them—or even the "Darkness" itself.
All four "Wall-Facers" had to play ceaselessly until this half-god's frenzied battle reached its end.
At last, Germain could move freely.
He lifted the "Burial Blade," spread his silver wings and black cloak, twisted his body, and launched himself toward the "Darkness" wielding the "Demon King's Scepter."
Come!
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