Nephis kept her gaze fixed on the silent Sanctuary as they departed.
It lay abandoned, its inhabitants gone for days now—driven away by fear of the battle to come. There was something strangely nostalgic about the sight. For the second time in little more than a year, she was leaving behind an empty settlement to march toward a battle against almost impossible odds.
It was a troubling pattern—one she hoped would not become a habit.
"Cheer up, Princess! How many people can say they've killed a Saint while still Awakened?" Effie said brightly. Her youthful smile was encouraging, but it didn't quite hide the tension beneath.
"I can," Nephis replied flatly. And she was very much looking forward to repeating the feat with this nightmare's version of Solvane.
"Eh, she was more dead than alive already. I'd call that half a Saint," Effie waved the comment away, nodding sagely as though it were an undeniable truth.
Nephis smiled despite herself, then shook her head. Not for the first time, she was grateful to have Effie as a friend. The woman had an uncanny talent for easing tension, even on the brink of catastrophe.
"What's there to worry about?" Mordret chimed in cheerfully. "We either succeed or we die. Either way, it won't be our problem by the end of the day."
Unlike the rest of them, he appeared to be in an excellent mood. His silver eyes gleamed with barely contained excitement.
"I, for one, would prefer to stay alive," Kai said dryly. A faint tremor of his hands betraying the fear he felt.
"Agreed," Cassie added, her grip tightening around the hilt of her rapier.
"Oh, come now," Mordret protested. "What's life without a little risk?"
"Unlike you," Nephis said calmly, "we only have one life."
"Princess, you're only marginally easier to kill," Effie shot back. "You're the last person I want to hear lecturing about mortality."
They continued bickering as they descended into the darkness of the Sky Below. Somehow, surrounded by shadows and impending death, Nephis felt that everything was—if not right—then at least as it should be.
-------------------------------------------
"They've sensed us," Noctis muttered, grinning madly as he guided the vessel upward in a steady ascent.
In mere minutes, they would face an army led by three Saints.
For the briefest moment, doubt slipped into Nephis's heart. Just a speck—barely there. She crushed it before it could take hold.
As the leader of the Cohort, she could afford nothing less than absolute confidence.
She turned to face her people. Somber expressions met her gaze—save for Mordret, who looked positively thrilled. Nephis straightened her posture and summoned the [Cruel Sight]. White flames wrapped around the blade in an instant.
"Tonight," she began, her voice calm and clear, "we face what may well be the greatest challenge of our lives."
Her words carried effortlessly through the vessel.
"Against us stand thousands upon thousands of soldiers. Among them, countless Awakened like ourselves—and many Ascended. And leading them…" She paused. "Three immortal Saints."
She saw uncertainty ripple through the Firekeepers. A few of them looked as though they were questioning the wisdom of this battle.
"And us?" Nephis continued, her voice rising. "We are forty-eight Awakened and two Saints. Do you know what I think when I see those odds?"
Silence answered her.
"I think we are going to crush them."
Her certainty was absolute.
"We faced the darkness of the Forgotten Shore—and we survived. We shattered Gunlaug's tyranny and left his corpse to rot in the ruins of the Bright Castle. We destroyed the Crimson Spire, broke its armies, and trapped the Dark Ocean once more. We faced the wrath of the sun…"
Her blade flared brighter.
"And now, the sun is dead."
A spark ignited in their eyes.
"We achieved all of this together. And together, we will do far more."
The tension drained from the Firekeepers. They gripped their weapons with renewed confidence, eyes burning with resolve.
Nephis raised her blade.
"What are soldiers and Transcendents against our will?" she demanded. "Nothing. By sunrise, the armies of the Colosseum and the Ivory City will be broken and scattered to the winds. Their Saints will lie dead and buried—where they should have been centuries ago."
She paused.
"If that is our will—"
"—THEN WHO DARES STOP US!?" they roared in unison, the cry echoing through the Sky Below.
Nephis smiled triumphantly and raised the [Cruel Sight] high. Its white flames blazed like a newborn star. One by one, they followed suit, weapons raised, spirits aflame—ready to conquer the nightmare, or die trying.
Moments later, they burst from the darkness.
Before them lay an armada of flying ships, thousands of silent silhouettes staring down at their lone vessel.
"Are you ready, Nephis, my friend?" Noctis asked, laughter bubbling from his lips. He no longer bothered to hide his madness.
"I am," she said without hesitation.
She extended her arm, palm turned upward.
And the pain came.
The pain began, as it always did, from deep within.
It ignited in her chest—a roaring inferno that surged through her veins like molten silver. Her nerves burned to nothingness, only to be reforged in the same breath. The agony spread outward, relentless and consuming, racing toward her arm. The stench of scorched flesh filled her senses, though no one else could perceive it.
Beneath her armor, her skin blistered and bubbled. Searing pain coursed through her body.
Once, this alone would have brought tears to her eyes. The torment would have been unbearable beyond a heartbeat.
Now?
She endured it.
Not resisted—never resisted—but endured.
At last, a flickering silver flame bloomed above her open palm, bathing the night in its pale radiance. Nephis gave a slight nod. Noctis met it, his grin widening, and together they drew a breath.
"FIRE," Nephis roared.
The flame swelled instantly. Tendrils of molten silver unfurled and curled through the air like living fingers, reaching hungrily into the darkness. It was destruction and creation intertwined—devouring in its hunger, yet offering warmth and solace to those who stood beneath its glow. Each flicker cast fleeting shadows that pulsed in time with her heartbeat.
"WIND," Noctis whispered.
His voice was sharp, merciless.
The night answered with a howl like grinding glass. Invisible currents tore through the sky, whispering of endings and beginnings alike. The wind seized the inferno in Nephis's palm and carried it upward, higher and higher, feeding it, shaping it, exalting it.
In the heavens above, a sun was born.
Silvery light flooded the Sky Below, washing over the enemy armada. For a single, breathless moment, it hung there—perfect, radiant, lethal. A proclamation of divine might.
Then its shape twisted.
The sphere strained against itself, its form buckling beneath the weight of its own power. A rupture appeared and fire poured forth.
The first torrent obliterated the leading ranks of ships as though they were paper, continuing onward without slowing, its fury unquenched.
Another tear opened.
Then another.
Streams of silver fire cascaded from the ruptured sun, descending like starving beasts, their fury unleashed upon their prey. The enemy formation collapsed into chaos, vessels disintegrating midair, burning debris raining into the abyss below.
By the time the sun finally dissipated, its brilliance spent, more than half of the enemy fleet had been erased.
Nephis sagged, breath hitching. Two-thirds of her essence was gone—drained in a single, overwhelming attack. The thought that one day she might wield such power alone was… unsettling.
What unsettled her more was the flood of soul fragments pouring into her cores.
She did not allow herself to think about how many lives had just ended.
"Well," Noctis declared proudly, "that was certainly impressive. As befitting the most powerful sorcerer of the Kingdom of Hope."
She couldn't deny it—without his winds to shape and amplify her flames, the devastation would have been far less. It didn't stop her from being annoyed by his smug grin.
As if sensing her thoughts, the Saint smiled even wider.
"This is where we part, my friends," Noctis said lightly. "It's time for me to deal with Solvane and the Sun Prince. Do try not to die—it would dampen the mood of my victory feast."
He winked at them and approached the bow of the ship, ready to jump into the darkness.
It was then, that the moon was devoured by darkness.
-------------------------------------------
[You have slain…]
[Your soul…]
Another burning ship fell away behind Nephis as she flew, weaving through a storm of arrows and bolts. The air was thick with screams, fire, and the thunder of clashing powers.
Far in the distance, she glimpsed the One in the North battling the Sun Prince.
The woman had become a living tempest, her form dissolving into a spirit of wind. Each movement unleashed hurricanes that tore at the sky itself. The steel colossus answered with titanic blows, each strike shaking the world as metal met air with cataclysmic force.
An arrow flashed past Nephis's head, missing her by mere millimeters.
Her focus snapped back.
She dove toward another ship, the [Cruel Sight] already blazing as she prepared to set it aflame. From the corner of her eye, she spotted Nightmare tearing through a vessel with feral efficiency. The shadow steed struck from darkness and vanished just as swiftly, leaving devastation in his wake.
A sudden shockwave tore Nephis off course.
Violent winds hurled her toward a nearby floating island. She barely managed to stabilize herself, turning what would have been a lethal collision into a brutal landing. It hurt, but she had dealt with worse.
And then she realized she wasn't alone.
At the center of the island stood Solvane, her hand clenched around Noctis's throat. Before Nephis could react, Solvane drove her arm into the Sorcerer's chest.
The Saint recoiled a heartbeat later, horror twisting her features.
Noctis laughed. It was a mad, rasping sound, yet his presence swelled—terrifying, overwhelming—despite his corpse-like appearance.
Nephis watched in stunned silence as Solvane began to change.
Her skin writhed as though something crawled beneath it. Pain contorted her features as her body convulsed, vines tearing their way free. With shaking hands, she retrieved a wooden knife from her robes and thrust it toward Noctis.
He accepted it.
Then, with casual contempt, he tossed it aside.
"You want me to kill you," Noctis murmured mockingly, grey eyes blazing with contempt. "I'm afraid I won't. In all the Kingdom of Hope, no one deserves to suffer quite as much as you do. Consider it Aidre's final gift."
History repeated itself. In another place and another time, but it was repeating itself.
If Nephis did nothing, Solvane would remain trapped—alive, aware, suffering, and unable to even end her own existence.
That was Fate's decree. Just like how it had decreed that a shadow and an angel would fight.
Nephis hated Fate.
She retrieved the fallen knife and drove it into Solvane's chest.
There was no glorious battle. No final stand.
Only silence.
Solvane, Priestess of War, died where she stood.
The Saint who had searched for a glorious death for centuries found it at last—not in splendor, but in mercy.
[You have slain a Transcendent human, Solvane.]
[Your soul shines brighter.]
[…You have received a Memory.]
Nephis felt no triumph.
Only exhaustion.
"Nephis, my friend," Noctis said mildly, "I must admit that I'm rather cross with you right now."
She exhaled slowly.
An annoyed Transcendent was the last thing she needed.
-------------------------------------------
Nephis landed heavily on the floating island.
Behind her, the thunderous clashes between Noctis and Sevras echoed beneath the rising sun. She wanted to help—but she knew better. She would only be a hindrance in a battle of such magnitude.
So she turned to what she could do.
The steel colossus lay in ruin before her. Most of its limbs were gone, its massive chest torn open, revealing the iron cage within. Inside lay the man who had once been the Sun Prince.
Beside the broken golem stood the One in the North, still and silent. She had already returned to her human form, her task complete.
She summoned the [Mordant Mimic] and from inside, she retrieved the Ember knife, ready to deliver death to the transcendent whose body she had inhabited once within a dream. Putting him out of his misery was the only mercy she could offer him.
She approached, leaving the coffer behind. Footsteps touched down behind her—Mordret. He offered her an encouraging nod.
She narrowed her eyes at him but climbed atop the shattered colossus nonetheless.
Nephis laid eyes on the man inside and felt nothing but pity. If the dreams Nightmare had shown her were to be believed; he had suffered through centuries of torture, followed by being imprisoned within the iron golem, where every moment was one of pure agony. Even now, as he weakly tried to drag himself out of the cage, his face was still contorted into a rictus of pain.
"You can rest now," Nephis whispered. "Your nightmare is over."
She plunged the blade into his chest.
The man struggled weakly, hands clawing at nothing. Then his resistance faded. The agony drained from his face, replaced by something like relief.
For a moment, she thought she heard him whisper, Thank you.
[You have slain a Transcendent...]
[Your soul shines brighter.]
[You have received a Memory.]
Nephis inclined her head in silent mourning and turned away.
Two were dead.
One remained.
She turned toward the One in the North, intending to ask for her aid against Sevras.
And froze.
The woman stared down at the knife buried in her own chest, expression distant, almost bored. Slowly, she lifted her gaze to the man before her.
"Took you long enough," she muttered almost resentfully.
Her body went limp.
"My apologies," Mordret said pleasantly. "Changing Star isn't in the habit of leaving that delightful coffer of hers unattended."
He turned toward Nephis and smiled brightly.
"Two more to go!"
"Why?" The word tore from her throat like a curse.
"Oh, come now," he said lightly. "You can't expect to handle everything yourself. I'd have been terribly sad if the nightmare ended without me killing at least one Transcendent."
"You've never been sad."
"Guilty," he admitted cheerfully. Then his expression darkened. "Honestly, I was considering helping you—with this nightmare, with Valor. I rather liked the idea of killing my dear father with allies by my side."
Flames licked across Nephis's skin.
"What changed?" she asked coldly.
His smile sharpened.
"Your selfishness, for one. Hoarding those knives wasn't very nice—friends are meant to share after all." He shrugged. "And then there's your plan to make me an enemy of all the Sovereigns. A bit much, even for me."
Footsteps echoed.
Two mirror creatures emerged, reflecting Nephis's form as they flanked her, sealing every path of escape.
"But what truly convinced me?" Mordret's voice turned venomous. "You're too soft."
The word struck like a blade.
"We'd already be finished if you hadn't refused to manipulate this kingdom's people. What's next? Refusing to strike Valor's strongholds because innocents might be inside? Asking me to spare those who weren't involved?"
He shook his head.
"No. I won't risk my life for a weak partner."
She looked at Mordret, at the vile man who considered the idea of not causing a civil war weakness. She stared at him, and instead, she saw herself.
Not as she was, but as she might have become. Stripped of restraint. Of compassion. A creature that paved its path with bones, not because it had to, but because it would be easier. Convenient.
What was in front of her wasn't human, but a nightmare creature wearing the skin of one.
That... that thing disgusted her.
Never. She would never become like Mordret, she refused to, she would rather die.
Her flames roared brighter, pain flooding her senses. She welcomed it, pushed it further, commanded it to burn hotter still. Impossible heat poured from her cores.
"Don't worry, Nephis," Mordret said warmly, summoning his weapon as his reflections prepared to strike. "I'll take excellent care of the others once you're gone."
She met his gaze.
"Burn."
Something inside her cracked.
A core shattered.
Fire exploded outward, a blinding conflagration that devoured the entire island. From afar, it looked as though a second sun had been born in the Sky Below.
When the flames faded, only Nephis remained.
The island was nothing but scorched stone.
-------------------------------------------
Nephis was standing on the surface of a calm ocean. The world around her was suffused with sunlight, and the perfectly still water below her bare feet glowed beautifully, reflecting the brilliance of heaven.
Above her, six suns shone brightly, quickly joined by another one. She had gathered enough fragments during the battle to immediately recover the lost one.
Before her stood Mordret—alone, his smile brittle. The explosion had destroyed his body and reflections. Smothered by radiance, escape had been impossible.
With nowhere left to flee, he had no other choice but to invade her soul sea.
"Now, now," he said weakly. "It was just a little disagreement between friends. Those happen, don't they?" He asked, his friendly smile cracking upon coming face to face with a death he couldn't avoid. His cavalier attitude gone now that he truly was under the risk of diying.
Nephis said nothing.
The suns swelled.
Light consumed him.
[You have slain an Awakened Devil, Mordret.]
[Your soul shines brighter.]
[…You have received a Memory.]
-------------------------------------------
"Princess! Are you all right!?"
The world rushed back.
Nephis stood aboard Noctis's ship. Her cohort and the Firekeepers surrounded her—battered, drained, but alive.
She nodded.
Nothing more.
A thunderous crash drew her gaze skyward, where the Saints still clashed. Beyond them stood the Ivory Tower.
And inside, the objective of this nightmare. She had to see her.
"I'll handle this," Nephis said. "Stay here."
Someone called out for her to wait.
She was already gone.
-------------------------------------------
Nephis landed before the Ivory Tower.
Behind her, the battle between Saints still tore through the sky, thunderous and distant. She ignored it. There was no urgency left in her steps, no fear, no anticipation.
Her emotions were gone.
Her Aspect had burned them away, leaving only a single, quiet compulsion: enter the tower.
She walked forward and pushed the massive doors open.
The hall beyond was exactly as she had seen it in the future—vast, ancient, and silent. Seven chains came out of the walls, anchored into the stone. Only two remained intact.
And bound by them was not what she expected.
The moment Nephis laid eyes on the being imprisoned at the hall's center, everything shattered.
Emotion surged back into her all at once—violent, overwhelming, uncontrolled. The damage wrought by her flames was undone in an instant, erased simply by proximity to the woman before her.
She was the most beautiful thing Nephis had ever seen.
She was the most terrifying.
Divinity radiated from her—an assurance that everything would be all right, that victory was inevitable. At the same time, she exuded despair so absolute it whispered that nothing mattered, that death was the only release.
"My, my," the woman said lightly. "A child of War, bearing the lineage of the Sun?"
Her voice was silk and poison intertwined.
"Has he truly fallen so low as to bed his own siblings? Come closer, child. Let me see you."
Nephis moved without meaning to.
The woman was human and not—caught between states, belonging to both and neither. Light and darkness wove through her form. She knelt upon the stone floor, her left arm and leg bound by the final chains.
Nephis's mind fractured with contradiction.
Free her.
Bind her.
Save her.
Kill her.
The woman reached out and lifted Nephis's chin with a velvet grip—soft, inescapable.
"You are a Nephilim as well," she murmured. "And is that a nascent domain I sense? One so very similar to my own…"
A smile curved her lips.
"What a delightful little mongrel you are."
Nephis loved her.
Nephis hated her.
Nephis... enough child, this has stopped being funny.
Her blood ran cold. Hope hadn't spoken, and yet she heard her loud and clear. She felt as if the world were speaking to her, as if the words had been uttered by the wind, by the stone beneath her feet, by the broken chains still standing, even by her own body.
The foreign emotions vanished in an instant, evaporating like mist. Nephis staggered as control returned to her mind and heart.
"Better?" the woman asked, amused.
Nephis nodded, unable to speak after such a display of overwhelming power.
"You needn't be afraid," the Daemon said casually. "I'm not so ungrateful as to harm my savior."
"I'm Nephis," she said hoarsely.
"Good. I was beginning to wonder if you ever intended to introduce yourself." The Daemon smiled. "Now tell me—why did you free me?"
"It's the objective of this nightmare."
The words left her mouth before she could stop them. Nephis froze. Hope's eyes gleamed.
"So Weaver finished his little Spell after all. How interesting."
Weaver created the Spell. Did Hope know how it worked? How to destroy it?
The realization flared—and slipped away, like water through her fingers. Nephis shook her head, disoriented, feeling like she was forgetting something of utmost importance.
"It explains my weakness," Hope continued calmly. "This is only a reflection of my true self."
As terrifying as that statement was, she didn't have time for it. Noctis and Sevras could end their fight at any moment, and she couldn't afford to waste the opportunity to gain knowledge directly from a Demon. Nephis forced herself to concentrate.
"Why did the gods imprison you?"
Hope blinked—then laughed, the sound bright and joyful.
"You are a rude one, aren't you?" She teased. "But I suppose you've earned answers."
Her smile faded.
"Because we are their flaw."
Nephis frowned. "Their… flaw?"
"The gods were once seven," Hope said softly. "Now there are six. We are what remains of the seventh—their sibling's final fragments. Their shame. Their reminder."
Her gaze drifted.
"They imprisoned me because I was adored, child. They cannot allow the Daemons to be worshiped or have descendants of their own. Not when it risks awakening the corrupted husk of my progenitor."
Nephis's world tilted. Her mind spinning impossibly fast, coming up with innumerable questions and discarding them just as fast.
"Did that answer your question?" Hope asked lightly.
"Yes," Nephis replied, barely aware of her own voice.
"Good." Hope's expression sharpened. "Then allow me one of my own."
The air grew cold.
"Why do you smell of Weaver?"
Nephis's heart thundered.
She tried not to speak.
She failed.
Her mouth moved against her will, revealing everything—Sunny, [Blood Weave], her suspicions. Horror crushed her as she listened to herself betray secrets she would have died to protect.
She had never felt so horrified, so powerless, so violated. She screamed at her own body to stop, but it was no use. She was a prisoner inside her own body, dancing to the tune of the Demon of Desire. Only when she finished explaining, when she uttered every detail Hope wanted to hear, did she regain control.
"Fascinating," Hope murmured. "So he succeeded where all of us failed."
Nephis summoned the [Cruel Sight] and struck.
The blade shattered against Hope's neck.
"Come on, Nephis, you should know better than to try and use such an insignificant weapon."
A punch to the face answered her, a loud crack echoing down the hallway. Her hand had shattered against Hope's incredibly resilient body without leaving a single blemish. She didn't care; the flames engulfed her, and in less than a second, she was as good as new.
She tried to attack again, but felt her body stop, crushed by an overwhelming apathy. She remained motionless, unable to move, unable to even think, while Hope watched her thoughtfully, as if pondering something. Seconds later, she seemed to reach a conclusion.
Then reached out and tapped Nephis's forehead.
[You have acquired a new Attribute.]
"What... what have you done?" Nephis asked, her voice trembling. She was so shaken that it took her almost a minute to realize she had asked the question aloud and regained control of her body.
The Daemon's face, both radiant and shrouded in darkness, contorted into a smile, a beautiful, harrowing smile.
"Where would the fun be if I told you?"
"What. Have. You. Done?" She repeated the question, each word uttered with barely contained fury. She could feel it; something powerful was taking root in her soul.
The Daemon smiled once more, her eyes—one light, one dark—gleaming with both joy and malice. "I have just granted you a gift. It's the least I could do for someone who has gone to such lengths to free me."
Footsteps echoed.
Noctis arrived—ruined, hollow-eyed. Another man followed, dragged along like a puppet. Both stared ahead, unresponsive.
Hope clapped her hands.
"Ah! They've finally arrived! You have no idea how stiffling these chains are, child! To think I'd have to struggle to control mere transcendents! The shame alone nearly killed me." The Daemon shook her head, disappointed in herself. "Now, be a dear and kill them so I can finally leave these accursed chains"
Foreign emotions assailed her again, overwhelming her mind with the sole desire to kill the two men. She tried to resist with all her might, rebelling against the chains that controlled her mind. She dedicated her entire will to fighting against their control.
She failed.
[You have slain a Transcendent Human, Sevras.]
[You have received a Memory.]
[You have slain a Transcendent Human, Noctis.]
[You have received a Memory.]
The final chains shattered.
Hope rose, towering, radiant and abyssal.
Nephis didn't look at her; her gaze rested on Noctis's lifeless eyes. She had found him unpleasant, shameless, egocentric to the core, and far too boastful for her taste. Yet he was also a friend, someone who had offered her genuine wisdom and comfort on occasion, and whose teachings she deeply valued.
A hand rested on her shoulder. She did not turn around, knowing that it would be Hope. She did not look at her. She did not dare to. She dreaded what she would do if she looked at the Daemon of Desire.
"Don't be sad child," Hope whispered. "One day, you'll thank me."
The Daemon vanished.
[Your nightmare is over.]
[Prepare for appraisal…]
Nephis did not move.
The nightmare had ended.
Her fury had not.
She would make Hope pay. She would find a way to make her do so.