'I see… so that's how it all ended. I'm fading away… I'm returning. Evy, I shall be with you once more.'
The lifeless eyes of Alexander regained their colour. But what he saw was not what he expected.
I'm far too late.'
Regaining his consciousness, Alexander found himself bound, unable to move, unable to speak. Chains of power—not iron, but by command itself—held him fast. Then a voice spoke. He lifted his gaze, and before him stood a being he had never wished to see. Not now, not while he was weak.
They were the ones who held the reins of the world, beings above all law, above all dominion. They were the Avatars of the Gods. And the one who stood before the Martins was no ordinary Avatar. Her name was recorded in the ancient texts, a figure whispered of in dread and reverence.
She was and is one of the antediluvian Avatars. Helen Phi.
"Oh, it seems someone just joined us. How was the trip down memory lane?"
All eyes shifted, searching for the one she spoke of. But he knew. Her words pierced him, sending shivers down his spine, drenching him in cold sweat.
"Others are also trying to break free, but I'm not interested in having a confrontation.
BOW."
A heavy pressure descended upon the chamber. The Martins collapsed forward, forced into a kowtow. There was no resistance, no escape. Even Austin and his wives, their bodies coursing with mana, could do nothing but bow their heads to the floor.
'How's she gotten this powerful?'
Austin couldn't understand his predicament. By the law of power, Divine Force is superior to Mana, Mana to Power, and Spiritual Power to Divine Force— keeping all three in equilibrium balance. Yet, if one possessed a far greater quantity of a lesser power against its superior, then that superior power would have little to no effect. But that did not seem to be the case.
Austin Martin, who prided himself as one infinitely close to Prime Being— a Nul, possessing vast quantities of mana— found himself broken.
Helen's Speech of Command, spoken through Divine Force, had brought him to his knees.
'This is out of order. I can sense the true quantity of divine force within her. Among us four, Astire is one with far less mana, and her divine force is three‑fourths of it. I can't sense the use of an artifact. How is this possible?'
"Poor Austin, don't overflow your brain. Why don't you look again? Just LIFT YOUR HEAD."
Austin's head immediately shot up, staring directly within—yet he saw no difference. But when he looked at Helen herself, not at what lay within, he saw something that wasn't there before.
On Helen's hands appeared twenty rings, two on each finger. She raised her right hand and, with deliberate calm, removed a ring from her pinky.
The moment she did, all colour drained from Austin's face. His wives began to tremble.
Although Austin and his wives may be ones infinitely close to a Prime Being, possessing vast quantities of mana, they are stuck in the ways of old.
A wise being once said, Wisdom and Knowledge lie hand in hand with age. Words of truth—yet neither knowledge nor wisdom is a destination reached by age alone; both must be actively cultivated and sought out through conscious effort. Its vast oceans reveals the depths only to those who cast their nets with intent; the idle observer learns nothing.
But Austin and his wives remain in the comfort of their home, never leaving to cast their net, only satisfied with what they already know.
While the Magus are the progenitors of mana, their descendants of many races refined and improved the study of mana and magic. Yet Austin and his wives, drunk on their pride as Maguses, have buried themselves in the depths of a dead principle.
A principle that held true throughout their ancient lives. Against the third generational Gods and Deities, against the very first Avatar, the principle never faltered. It stood firm and true, for all years to come— until today.
Until now.
Helen gave a gentle smile, looking upon them with pity. "I permit you to SPEAK."
"How… how do you possess such vast and dense divine force capacity? I'd reckon it was those rings, but that's not the case. Of the rings, ten possess the Authority of Predation and Absorption—an authority of gluttony— and the other the Authorities of Rule and Suppression—an authority of pride. None aided in the sudden expansion of your capacity. What did you?"
"Wow, you really surprised me there. I never thought someone like you would recognise them. You are right—these ten rings of gluttony and pride, each was given a different name by its truth. But I found it difficult calling each by their given names, when they all serve the exact purpose. These are the Rings of Phagos and Ga'on."
"I did not ask what those rings are. Answer my question—how do you have such vast quantity of divine force?"
"Do you expect an answer, one stuck in the old ways? But your question has brought me some amusement. I shall give you an answer, even though you've already answered."
Helen then removed a ring from her thumb— a Ring of Ga'on, a ring of pride.
The moment it came off, all were flattened. Some collapsed outright, foaming at the mouth as consciousness fled. Only Austin remained, straining with all his might, resisting the crushing weight that threatened to break him. Helen stared at him for a few seconds more, then calmly slipped the ring back on.
Austin Martin felt the threat of life for the first time in forever. The principle belief he had clung to all his life was shattered completely by Helen's display.
He was left distraught, his mind reeling, yet he tried his very best to keep his composure.
"From your display, your very actions claim those rings devour and suppress your divine force. Do you take me for a fool? One of your age shouldn't have such capacity."
During the time of the Magus, a certain view and belief had shaped their understanding of mana and magic. This view and belief had gone on to be set as a principle they all abided by. The reasoning was simple: when one depletes their mana reserves, they forfeit their life. Because of this belief, the Maguses never allowed their reserves to fall below a certain point. Later, it was inscribed as a Principle of Magic. But this principle brought stagnation. By never depleting their reserves, their mana only recovered to the same quantity. Their capacity expanded only in fragments, year by year, slowing growth to a crawl.
"Refusing progression is truly heart‑wrenching. Your time is far gone, never to repeat. Why hold to false beliefs?"
"Quite the statement. What's false of a set principle? It has proven truth throughout time. Answer me this—should a master learn the ways of his slave? Should a man pay heed to the playfulness of a child? Then why should we abandon our ways, only to follow in the steps of an inferior?"
"Now this is getting boring. I had planned to chart for a while, but since he's awoken, the final steps for Entropy have been set in place. Isn't that right, Gerald?"
The sudden mention of Gerald left Alexander in shock. 'I had certainly thought she was referring to me.'
Forcing his head to turn toward Gerald while they all remained bowing, Alexander tried to read his brother. Yet Gerald's face was hidden—only a trembling body drenched in sweat. But looking closer, Alexander saw the corners of his lips raised, the lips spread apart. A huge grin was plastered across Gerald's face.
What did you see, Gerald? What left you frightened enough… to smile?
"Entropy, the game of Entropy. Ha hahaha ha! Your Gods call us vile, wicked, yet you rui—"
"Shhh, shh, sh. Quiet, Austin. SILENCE."
Austin's mouth immediately closed shut.
"Don't give spoilers. You four aren't candidates, just targets. Those eleven are the Candidates."
'Eleven, aren't we twelve?' Still staring at Gerald, Alexander noticed his grin widening. 'What's the use of contemplating? The end and beginning draw near.'
"I had been pondering—why was I given such a mission to eliminate a minister, of a small country, no less? Until the worlds froze over and time wound back for a minute. I'm sure you sensed it. Then it all came back—it was truly exhilarating.
If I'm to recall correctly, you had no intention of overthrowing Restia. The Governors were simply in your way. The purpose of being here, the reason for the coup, is the gateway to Kinhoale. Sadly, you don't have the key."
Helen flicked her wrist, and a golden‑black key materialised from thin air. It radiated both Divine Force and Spiritual Power, marked with intricate grooves of characters from a bygone age.
The moment the key came into form, Austin's eyes shot red. He began to palpitate violently, releasing mana in a desperate attempt to break free of his bonds, to speak, to resist. A heavy pressure fell upon all. Those who had lost consciousness regained their senses, yet Austin could not break free of Helen's command.
"Don't sweat it too much. I know you're very excited. And as a last service to you… I shall open the doors."
Helen turned and plunged the key into the empty space. She twisted it once, and cracks began to spread— reality straining, fracturing.
Each turn represented a Martin.
The more she turned, the wider the cracks spread, until the eighteenth turn. Space‑time collapsed. Reality shattered. And a world beyond unfolded before them all.
"Quite the work, turning it eighteen times.
RISE."
All sixteen present Martins rose to their feet, staring at the opening in space. Helen approached Austin, placing a gentle hand upon his shoulder.
"Quite the timing—it's noon. Isn't it beautiful, Austin? It brings back memories and longing. Almost enough to make a grown man cry."
What appeared before them was once a land of the world, until it was cut off and sealed away. This land was once— and still is— the place upon which Kinhoale stood.
To their very eyes, they bore witness to the roots of Kinhoale.
"Light."
Light stepped out of the shadows, a tray in hand. Upon it lay an object shaped like a heart. With quick steps, Light approached where Helen stood. She raised both her hands in a cross and forcefully plunged them into her chest. She ripped out her hearts—one in each hand. Still pulsating, still beating, still alive.
All were shocked and stoop, yet they could not show it—only their eyes betrayed them. Though both hearts were torn free, no blood was seen, no blood flowed. Helen's hands remained spotless. She placed both hearts onto the tray, then picked up the heart‑shaped object.
"It seems mechanical."
"It is mechanical."
"Can I have Wintervile, Apostle Light Syn?"
Light moved his hand over the tray, and it vanished.
He slid his right arm across his left, drawing forth a light cyan sword, radiating cold yet warm energy. But as he was about to hand over Wintervile, Light stopped in his tracks, re-examining his decision.
"What's wrong, Light? Hand it over."
"I've been thinking. Giving out Wintervile would leave me with nothing. Then let's make a deal. There are Five Seasonal Weapons, each corresponding to its respective season, as Wintervile does to Winter. Here's my deal: one of the other seasonal weapons in exchange for Wintervile."
"Oh Light, Light, Light. Quite the proposition you've laid out, child, but let me make myself clear."
Her voice shifted, her presence became overwhelming,
"You being in possession of Wintervile was never meant to be; none is meant to have any of the seasonal weapons."
"Yet here I stand with Wintervile, recognizing I as its master."
"Was it you it recognised, or the will of Ulycs?"
"Whether it's I or Ulycs, Wintervile is now mine. If you must use a seasonal weapon, then use the other four in your possession."
Helen stared without a word, her silence heavy.
"You can't, can you? Only Wintervile possesses the needed causality to destroy the heart of Kinhole. Make the right choice, Helen. Don't let your emotions cloud your judgment. Isn't that why you ripped your hearts out?"
"You drive a bargain, Light. Here."
She opened her palm, and a bracelet of dancing flames manifested, hovering mid‑air.
"This is Salamander—Salamander of the burning flames of Summer."
Light swapped Salamander with Wintervile. Yet the moment the hilt of Wintervile touched Helen, it reverted to its base form— a silver mace. Helen said nothing, though her face betrayed a hint of annoyance.
"Do whatever you want with Salamander. And if your sole desire longevity, feast upon a heart. But choose wisely. Greed isn't always good."
Helen then placed the mechanical heart‑shaped object upon her gaping chest.
"Wake Danquery, Heart of Apathīa."
A violet coloured energy crept forth from Danquery, spreading, weaving, and encompassing Helen in a cocoon. It shattered into fragments, revealing not a woman of emotion, but an expressionless, motionless body. All that could be heard was the shifting of gears— the mechanical rhythm of the heart, the artefact itself.
Helen felt nothing. No pain, no joy, no sorrow, no guilt. Every emotion was deadened. Danquery had proven its title: the Heart of Apathīa.
Helen spoke, her voice hollow, yet commanding
"Blood of Martin, in her embrace, Kinhoale awaits. MARCH FORTH."
The Martins obeyed, marching in a single file into the opening in space. Some, like Jerry, strained to break free of Helen's command. Others reeled, their minds collapsing under the weight of all that had transpired. And the rest—such as Lilith—had already resigned to their fate.
Yet, while the Martins marched on, one remained rooted to the ground, unmoving— yet he carried the Martin name. He was not in defiance of Helen's command, but his body refused to move. Alexander simply stood.
Before he could begin to comprehend, he heard Light's voice: "SLEEP, FALL."
Alexander's body collapsed into Light's arms, as sleep overtook him.
"Today would have ushered you into something great. Too bad you're a Martin only in essence, not blood. Sleep tight, child."