"Catherine, Alice, Elizabeth, Cleopatra." Tatiana whispered the names of the fallen as she took a deep breath, willing herself to forget the dull pain in her abdomen. These names belonged to her sisters, whether creations of the Monarch or ordinary girls—they had bled in her stead. "Vera, Nastya, Alina, Valeria." The only sounds in the hall were the tapping of chisels against stone and the murmured prayers of the sisters. Tatiana closed her eyes, letting the scent of incense and sacred chants immerse her consciousness. She silently recited the names of the fallen once more. Each name felt like a thorned whip lashing across her back.
No one questioned the Sisterhood's creed anymore—for they had all witnessed the miracle with their own eyes.
Tatiana looked up at the golden statue, a nearly unbearable pressure rising alongside the pale blue mist. This is why we all shed blood, she thought. This is the cause we will all die for. In the mural being completed on the hall wall, only Vera and Catherine were painted with white wings.
She hadn't told the other sisters everything. She could no longer remember what Lady Catherine had said to her just before leaving Vera's body. Even in the nightmares that haunted her, that part of her memory remained a blank static, like a wiped tape—just noise. She only remembered that after all the light had faded, Vera slowly floated into her arms, quiet and peaceful as if merely asleep. That much, everyone present had seen. But Tatiana was certain she had seen something more.
"Their duty is done. They now stand at the Monarch's side in eternal glory," declared Lady Tita, head of the Sisterhood, standing at the altar. A coarse black iron chain hung from her pauldrons, gilded inscriptions and a parchment prayer tag attached. All surviving sisters who had reached the summit of Fimbulwinter wore such a decoration. Tatiana had also received a personal parchment scroll handwritten by Lady Tita, listing her achievements in full detail. "They have found peace, for the enemy has been purged by fire. Rejoice in them, sisters. Love them as you did in life. Their sacrifice is the Sisterhood's pride."
Lady Tita wore a magnificent black power armor, a golden eagle crest encircling her collar. Her deep crimson robes and cape were embroidered with long passages of scripture in even darker thread. A sun-shaped gilded iron halo was mounted above her power pack. Though ceremonial, the armor was also highly lethal if necessary—some components were said to have been designed by the Monarch himself. In one hand, she held a longsword forged by Solomon; in the other, a massive parchment-bound tome. The gilded cover bore molten letters, an uncut, blood-like ruby, and a genetic-locked cipher. Only the high-ranking members of the Sisterhood could open it. The book reportedly contained not only the Sisterhood's prayers but alchemical formulas and ultimate secret weapons gifted by the Monarch. The truth, of course, was known only to a few. The Sisterhood held far more secrets than even the intelligence department suspected.
After the battle, every surviving sister had to undergo extended prayer rituals to ensure none were corrupted. Even the wounded, reeking of disinfectant, were led in by Lady Tita herself.
"We will remember their deeds. Their stories will be carved in stone and written in our books. Future generations will understand the magnitude of the faith for which they gave their lives. Praise be to our Lord. Praise be to Saint Catherine!"
"Praise be to our Lord," the nearly hundred kneeling sisters responded in unison. "Praise be to Saint Catherine."
"Let us hold the final vigil and then deliver our fallen sisters into the eternal silence of their tombs."
Tatiana was one of four selected to carry Vera's coffin. The others were also members of the strike team. After completing her final prayer and watching as the names were etched into the Hall of Glory's stone tablets, Tatiana left the hall. Before exiting through the grand baroque oak doors, a strange impulse made her turn around for one last glance. In the dim light behind the statue, she thought she saw Vera in the mural smiling at her. Tatiana rubbed her eyes, convinced it was a fatigue-induced hallucination caused by three sleepless nights of vigil, prayer, and medication.
Funerals were held not only by the Sisterhood; the regular army and intelligence departments also conducted ceremonies at the same time. But theirs had no clergy in attendance. Considering Solomon's disdain for the Abrahamic pantheon, this was expected. Thus, each fallen soldier's coffin was draped in a deep red flag embroidered with a golden eagle, and they were buried in a cemetery purchased outside the Immortal City.
Sofia had just attended the funeral for her kin when she rushed to the soaring baroque-style cathedral that served as the Ministry of Internal Affairs—and ran straight into Victoria Hand.
She didn't need to guess Victoria Hand's intentions. They shared the same one.
The logistics division had already delivered all necessary supplies to the sky battleships and carriers. If that were Hand's only concern, she wouldn't be here. She'd be hiding aboard the sky carrier or the fleet stationed in the Pacific.
"We need weapons. Not ordinary weapons—war machines," Sofia said first to Stephanie, who was bleary-eyed with exhaustion. "I know logistics can't authorize this. Only the Ministry and the Mars Forge can."
"Neither I nor Mars can authorize anything," Stephanie replied irritably, waving her hand. Her desk was buried in empty vials and stacks of paperwork.
Due to Solomon's drastic decision, all experimental equipment forged on Mars and Earth—and all traces of the World Watchers—were buried under a collapsed mountain. As a result, Stephanie couldn't gather data on how the weapons had performed. The Mars Forge now needed extra time to test and revise everything. Furthermore, the cost in personnel had been enormous—some of Hydra's special ops units had even suffered losses. The Immortal City didn't lack weapons; in fact, it had overproduction. What it lacked were trained soldiers. Creating a gene-enhanced soldier (a Guardian) was prohibitively expensive and couldn't be scaled. Stephanie would rather double the compensation payments if it meant doubling the size of the regular army.
"Those machines belong to Kamar-Taj. I don't know anything about magic."
"Where is the Monarch?" Victoria Hand asked.
"I don't know." Stephanie rolled her eyes, nearly nodding off. "How would I know where he's gone? I only know he came to the Immortal City today. In twenty seconds I'm going to pass out. I don't want to die of overwork like one of my subordinates. Do you two have anything else?"
"You got anything else, snot-nosed brat?"
Deep in the dungeons of the Immortal City, Guardians stood guard outside a massive door. Inside, the boy who had experienced the entire Battle of Fimbulwinter sat at the center of concentric magical circles of shimmering sparks. Contrary to others' assumptions, Solomon hadn't imprisoned him—he was protecting him. Faint blue light glowed from the boy's fingertips. Without this containment spell, he would have already dispersed into a mindless point of light.
"Chaos God Asa is completely gone now. So… what do you want to do next?"
(End of Chapter)
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