That was why, as usual, Hinata simply defeated monsters.
It was a simple idea. But that was just fine. Protecting the doctrine gave meaning to Hinata's existence, and that was her idea of justice.
Hinata, the girl who wasn't even loved by her parents, had grown up with a twisted heart. A single belief supported that fragile, hollow thing. To protect that belief, Hinata was determined to fight.
And now…
The situation was bad—laughably bad, in fact. But thanks to that, her mind felt clear. She stopped overthinking. She stopped worrying. At this point, it no longer mattered whether her belief was correct or wrong.
She had come to prove something—prove that duty, discipline, and the doctrine she'd built her life on were not hollow. Her chest burned with that conviction. She lifted the blade and met Atem's gaze.
Atem watched her for a long beat, and then his voice cut through the quiet like a whetstone across metal—hard, remorseless, and final.
"Very well, Hinata," he said. "I will show you what you are."
His tone carried no mercy. It was a verdict pronounced from a height.
"You stand for nothing. You are nothing but a stubborn girl clinging to a creed because you fear losing what you have. You call it justice, but it is nothing more than a chain of your own making. You wear your orders like armor, and that armor is your prison."
Hinata bristled, but she did not lower her sword. The words stung, aimed to peel back everything she had built. Atem's next sentence was colder still.
"I am the judgment of life and death," he continued. "I do not bend for heroes or hymns. I decide who continues and who is ended. So do not believe that death will be your escape. That is a childish hope."
He stepped forward. The air seemed to tighten with each of his footsteps.
"You think you can end it all with a single strike? Foolish. You will not be granted the mercy you imagine. You will suffer. You will break. You will beg for forgiveness with everything left inside you—and death will not answer when you call."
The statement landed like a hammer. The paladins watching felt it as well; some tightened shields, others averted their eyes. It was a promise, not of death that comes quickly, but of an endurance that chews at bones and spirit.
Atem's voice dropped only an inch, and the cruelty of that small change made it deadly. "I will teach you a lesson," he said softly. "Not to humiliate you, but to show you the truth. You will learn what your doctrine cannot teach you: that clinging to the shape of justice is not the same as living it. This lesson will be carved into you."
Hinata's breath hitched. Her Mathematician could not compute the gap between them. The numbers in her head blinked uselessly. Still she lifted Dragon Slayer a fraction higher, steel ringing faintly.
"If that is what you intend, Atem," she said, voice raw but steady, "then strike. If I must break to prove a truth to you, then I will break. If I must beg—forgive me, Amen, whatever words you demand—I will say them. But know this: I will not stop believing that protecting people is right. If I fall, I will fall holding that ideal."
Atem's face did not change, but his eyes sharpened, as if he had been given something unexpected to read. For a sliver of a moment the silence swelled, two wills poised on the edge of collision.
"Very well," he said at last, the words like an order and a sentence both. "Then show me, Hinata Sakaguchi. Prove that your chains are not what bind you—prove that they are your strength. I will watch you break, and I will judge what remains."
He raised his hand. Power gathered without a sound—an absolute, oppressive pressure that made the hairs on Hinata's arms stand on end. Around them, the world seemed to close in. She inhaled, feeling every lesson, every loss, every promise she'd ever made press into her chest.
Then she charged. Dragon Slayer screamed through air, and Atem met her with the cold certainty of a verdict—unyielding, inexorable, both execution and examination. The duel that followed was not just steel against power; it was doctrine against judgment, stubbornness against the cold anatomy of truth. Each strike was a question. Each parry an answer. And at the center of it all, Hinata braced to find out whether she would be broken—and what, if anything, would remain afterward.
The clash of steel echoed through the field, sparks dancing in the air as my blade met Hinata's Dragon Slayer once again. Her sword strikes were sharp, her stance flawless, her eyes unwavering. To anyone else, she would look like the embodiment of perfection—a warrior honed into steel itself.
But to me, Atem, it was nothing more than repetition.
Her movements, no matter how precise, no matter how refined, no longer stirred the faintest spark of interest in me.
"I thought to myself, This woman leaves no openings… but openings are meaningless before me."
Solarys, Sovereign of Wisdom, whispered cold data in the back of my mind, slowing her blade with Thought Acceleration until her movements became sluggish, predictable arcs. I parried without effort, my strikes gliding through the air with surgical precision. She responded, sharp thrusts, perfect counters, and for a time, our swords carved a storm of steel in the silence of Eterna's night.
Still, she had not scratched me. And her blade—despite its brilliance—never would.
Her eyes locked with mine, glowing with a strange exhilaration. She smiled faintly, as if savoring this duel, as if she had finally found meaning in this hopeless clash. But to me, it was an annoyance.
"You're smiling… yet your blade trembles," I said calmly, deflecting another one of her thrusts. "Are you convincing yourself that this is a battle worth fighting, Hinata?"
Her reply was sharp, breathless. "You underestimate me, Atem. Every strike of mine is aimed at your life. Even you cannot hold out forever."
I tilted my head, unimpressed. "Forever? Foolish girl. For me, eternity is an ally. Time is already mine."
Her footwork was flawless, her body balanced like a finely tuned instrument. She struck without hesitation, predicting my counters, turning her body into a blade that could pierce inevitability itself. Any other opponent—any other being—would be shredded.
But her sword scraped against inevitability incarnate.
My strikes were relaxed, almost lazy. Hers were desperate, fueled by the weight of her justice, her doctrine, her fragile belief. The gulf between us widened with every passing breath, and yet she could not see it.
I sighed.
"This is getting boring."
She lunged again, her battle aura flaring bright, holy energy hissing as it clashed against my barriers. Solarys warned me that Dragon Slayer could pierce defenses if allowed direct contact, but I didn't care. Let her strike. It wouldn't matter.
Enough was enough.
I parried her thrust with a flick of my wrist, and as her eyes widened, I raised my hand—casually, dismissively—and waved.
"Enough."
The air itself roared.
A tidal wave of crushing energy erupted from my palm, invisible yet overwhelming, and slapped Hinata across the face with the force of a god's decree. Her body twisted violently as if struck by a storm, her feet leaving the ground. She hit the earth hard, stone cracking beneath her, dust scattering into the air like ash.
The paladins gasped. Some cried out her name. But none dared move.
I descended step by step, my eyes never leaving hers. She tried to rise, but her arms trembled. Her blade shook in her grip. And yet, her gaze was defiant.
I looked down upon her, my voice cold as iron.
"Hear me, Hinata Sakaguchi. I will now start your judgment."
The ground itself seemed to darken under my words.
I lifted my hand to the sky, and the world responded. A crimson-black sigil formed in the air above, vast and ancient, its shape twisting like a labyrinth of stars. The symbol of Osirion, carved into existence itself.
"—Judgment of Osirion."
The moment it activated, Hinata froze. Her body stiffened as invisible chains wrapped around her soul. Her eyes widened in terror, though none of the paladins could see what she was experiencing.
To them, she only stood motionless, caught mid-breath, her sword raised in vain defiance.
But inside her mind—inside her world—pure hell had opened.
The sky above her fractured into a sea of writhing red, black lightning tearing through the air like the shrieks of demons. The ground beneath her feet bled shadows that coiled into the forms of beasts with a thousand eyes and a thousand teeth. Screams echoed endlessly, distorted voices chanting in languages that stabbed at the soul.
Her sword, once solid in her grasp, began to rot, rust, and then melt into her hand. She tried to scream, but her voice drowned in the cacophony.
Blood rained from the sky. Every drop burned her skin like acid.
Before her, vast figures towered—colossal shapes, humanoid yet broken, their faces covered in masks of bone, their hands dripping with chains. They laughed without sound, their laughter shaking the air.
She fell to her knees, her body trembling.
Her thoughts raced. This… this isn't real. This is an illusion. I won't break… I won't…
But Judgment of Osirion was no illusion. It was truth made manifest.
Her faith crumbled. The doctrine she clung to began to unravel in her mind, torn apart by visions of endless despair. Every word of her creed echoed in her ears only to be drowned out by screams of those she could not save. Children she thought she protected burned before her eyes. Paladins she commanded were torn apart by unseen horrors, their faces twisted in accusation.
"Why couldn't you protect us, Hinata?" they cried.
"Was your justice only words?"
Her body shook violently. Tears streamed unbidden from her eyes.
And then—my voice thundered across her inner abyss, vast, majestic, absolute.
"You thought death would grant you freedom. Foolish girl. Death does not hear you. You will not escape. You will suffer. You will break. You will beg. And still, judgment will continue until I decide it ends."
Hinata screamed.
Her cry echoed through the void, carried on the wind of madness.
Outside, the paladins saw only her body trembling violently, her lips parted in a silent scream, eyes staring into something beyond their reach.
I stood over her, unmoving, a shadow cast long against the broken field. My expression was calm, cruel, inevitable.
This was not a battle anymore. This was a trial.
And Hinata Sakaguchi's trial had only just begun.