"Yet all things in that holy kingdom, whatever my soul can hold—"
Beneath the blood-red moon, Nero gripped his blade with a reverse hold, swinging his massive scythe as he took flight with a flap of his wings. The giant scythe, too unwieldy for most to wield with both hands, danced in Nero's single grip like a ghostly crescent moon, slicing straight for the Blood Moon Princess's neck.
"Let them turn to words, and I'll sing their tale!"
A jade-green phantom of a Sin Devil burst forth from Shoko's memories, its blade flashing to parry Nero's sudden assault. Then, from behind the phantom, Shoko's calm, elegant voice rang out, unruffled as ever:
"You're pretty good at singing, huh? Is that improv?"
Nero pulled back, redirecting his momentum. With a flick of his wrist, he swung his blade again, bracing the spine with his forearm to thrust the edge toward the phantom's chest.
"Those lamps of the world, rising from mountain passes to light the way for all—"
The phantom deflected the strike, but no matter. Nero spun with the momentum, his scythe arcing once more, its curved blade hooking around the phantom's slender waist like a reaper's embrace.
"Born from the three points where the four circles meet, it turns in the eternal celestial wheel, casting the gentlest light of samsara across the mortal realm!"
Harvest time. Nero yanked the scythe back, its ghostly blue edge poised to cleave that wheat-stalk waist in two.
But the phantom was quick, blocking with its longsword just in time. With a graceful flip, its bird-like talons lashed out, aiming a fierce kick at Nero's jaw while slipping free of the scythe's grasp.
Nero flapped his wings, retreating to dodge the blow, his tidal wave of attacks grinding to a halt.
"Thanks for the compliment," he said, steadying his ragged breaths with a low chuckle. "But if you can tell it's improv, you're not half bad yourself."
Shoko extended a lace-gloved hand, her fingers waving lightly through the air like a conductor searching for her rhythm. As her fingers moved, invisible spirits materialized as motes of light, dancing under the crimson moonlight.
"When it comes to music theory, I know a thing or two," Shoko said with a faint smile. "I just didn't expect you to be holding back this whole time." She pinched a mote of light between her fingertips, marking the end of her silent beat. Then, with a slow spread of her fingers and another wave, she summoned a massive pipe organ behind the Savior, its gleaming pipes reflecting the moonlight like a mirror.
"Such a beautiful song deserves accompaniment, don't you think?"
Shoko's fingers brushed the organ's polished copper pipes, her smile turning to Nero.
"For an aria like yours, there's no better instrument than this, right?"
Her lips curled with a seductive edge, her eyes glinting with a mesmerizing red glow. Before Nero could answer, Shoko sank back into the Savior's form, her fingers striking the keys.
No preamble, no warning—just a thunderous roar erupting under the blood moon. Countless notes sprang from behind the Savior, spiraling upward with the soaring melody.
Sonata, Moonlight.
The ceasefire was over. The Sin Devil phantom reappeared, weaving through a barrage of massive demonic projectiles unleashed by the Demon Pillars, charging straight for Nero.
You wanna play backup? Fine by me!
A cold smirk tugged at Nero's lips as he raised Yamato, the blade's tip slicing through the air, tearing space itself to carve a perfect ring in the atmosphere.
"Eternal turning wheel of the heavens!" he sang, matching Shoko's rhythm with a defiant shout. "It tunes the world's harmony, spreading the sun's fire across the cosmos!"
The Demon Pillars' projectiles slammed into the void Nero had carved, redirecting skyward. Only the Sin Devil phantom stopped short, halting right in front of him.
This was the ninth verse of the holy hymn. Nine, the ultimate number, the realm of the Primum Mobile, the ninth heaven—and Nero's limit. The tenth heaven, the Empyrean, was the divine abode, the end of the world. So Nero's tenth verse had to close the show.
"Behold its vastness, greater than a lake of stars! Behold its depth, surpassing the sea of the moon!"
At that exact moment, Shoko's melody hit its first crescendo.
A tiny black dot appeared at the heart of the red moon. Then it expanded rapidly, swallowing the moon, the stars, unfurling into a gaping black maw in the night sky—an abyss without end.
The magical afterimages Nero had left in his wake flared to life, greedily siphoning his demonic power to form layered barriers like celestial veils, trapping the Savior, the Demon Pillars, and the Sin Devil phantom within.
Shoko didn't stop playing. The organ's music echoed within the barriers, stacking upon itself. The layered echoes stripped the melody of its grace and rhythm, leaving only grandeur and awe, like the wrath of the heavens or the wails of a thousand ghosts.
The Demon Pillars and the Sin Devil phantom thrashed wildly in the furious music. They shattered one barrier, then another, splintering the celestial veils into fragments. Pale cracks spiderwebbed across the massive orb, like a crystal pearl dashed against the ground.
But the pearl wasn't falling—it was rising. The three memory-born demons, bound within the barriers, hurtled toward the night sky, toward that black abyss.
The second-to-last barrier shattered, leaving only the final, fragile layer. Nero gritted his teeth, accelerating, burning his demonic energy to hurl them into the maw at breakneck speed.
Then, the jaws of space snapped shut.
Silence fell. Nero felt their presence vanish into the spatial turbulence, letting out a faint breath of relief.
Call it a sneak attack, or a first-strike kill before Shoko could figure out his moves. Either way, Nero had landed a perfect blow while she was unaware, sending her into the spatial rift torn open by Yamato, leaving no trace.
The question was, without Shoko as its "core," how much would this affect the demon "Nanna"?
Just as Nero pondered this, the grand sound of the pipe organ rang out again.
He whipped around, stunned, toward the source. There, under the moonlight, was Toyokawa Shoko, seated at the organ once more. Her back was to Nero, her fingers dancing across the black-and-white keys, countless notes bursting from the wind rushing through the pipes.
"Not a scratch?" Nero growled, incredulous.
"Sonata Moonlight, pipe organ improv edition."
The piece ended, and Shoko rose from her seat, turning to face Nero.
She lifted her skirt slightly, dipping into a curtsey.
"Thank you for listening."