Beta smiled faintly—calm, reassuring.
"It won't," she said softly. "The curse has been completely erased."
Then her tone shifted, just a little more serious.
"However… I need to give you a choice."
The Dark Elf slowly lifted her face. "A… choice?"
"The first option," Beta said, "is that you forget everything. We will make sure your identity is concealed, and you'll live as an ordinary Dark Elf, never knowing the truth of what happened to you."
She looked straight at the child, but without pressure.
"You will be safe. Your life will be protected."
Beta took a quiet breath.
"The second option," she continued, "is that you come with us. You will learn the truth about this world—about the curse, about those who control it, and about the shadows moving behind history."
Her voice was gentle, yet firm.
"If you choose that path… we will protect you as well."
The young Dark Elf fell silent for a long moment, her fingers gripping the coat more tightly.
"If… I come with you…"
"…will I be alone again?"
Beta slowly shook her head.
"No."
A small smile appeared on her lips.
"You won't walk alone anymore."
Hearing the two choices, silence settled between them. The young Dark Elf lowered her head, her fingers clutching the coat wrapped around her body.
"When I was afflicted by the Curse of Diablo…" she murmured softly, "…I lost everything."
She bit her lower lip, holding back the tremor in her chest, then lifted her gaze to look straight at Beta before her. Her eyes were still fragile—but now, within them, there was something else.
Resolve.
"I'll come with you," she said firmly, her voice far stronger than her small body suggested. "Please allow me to join you."
For a moment, Beta was silent—then a gentle smile spread across her face.
Nearby, Gabriel also wore a faint smile.
Beta's Slime Weapon flowed softly, wrapping around the young Dark Elf's body. The jet-black liquid formed into a simple yet perfectly fitted cloak—as if it had been made just for her.
At last, Gabriel turned around and looked directly at the small Dark Elf.
"From now on," he said calmly, his voice low yet unwavering, "your code name is Sigma."
Not long after, they had already left the Cult of Diablo facility, putting a safe distance between themselves and the area.
The Bounded Field that had concealed the site was released.
Before them, the pages of Gabriel's digital grimoire shifted rapidly several times.
[- Dark Matter Magic: Haniel Umgestaltung des Leerenlichts -]
In that instant, the pale Dark Matter mist spread throughout the facility began to tremble—then condense.
The fog transformed into hundreds of glowing white feathers, floating freely without gravity, slowly spiraling through the air.
The next moment, all of those feathers accelerated.
They whirled violently, converging into a massive vortex—a colossal white tornado nearly thirty meters in diameter, grinding every remaining structure, wall, and trace of the Cult of Diablo into nothingness.
No ruins remained.
No evidence survived.
Only silence, and falling snow, where shadows had once taken root.
Beta watched the pillar of destruction without a hint of fear.
"…As always," she murmured, undisguised admiration in her voice, "Ash-sama's magic is always… beautiful, even when it exists solely to destroy."
To her, it was not terror—it was a familiar sight.
But beside her, Sigma stood frozen.
Her small body trembled slightly inside her new black cloak, eyes wide as she stared at the pillar of white feathers that erased everything in its path.
The wind from the vortex swept past her, tugging at her hair and cloak, carrying with it the roar of devastation far too immense for a child's world.
"E-eh…?" Her breath caught. "That… was done by one person…?"
Slowly, she turned her gaze toward Gabriel.
In her eyes, for the first time, the figure who had saved her also appeared as something far beyond her understanding.
A protector—and… a power beyond imagination.
***
Central Forest Headquarters.
Late Afternoon, Approaching Evening
Fifteen days had passed since the recruitment of new Shadow Garden members began.
By now, the number of recruits had reached two hundred and thirty.
All of them were currently undergoing intensive training under Lambda's supervision, forging the foundation of Shadow Garden's first generation of strength.
Meanwhile, the Seven Shades had returned to their respective roles, in accordance with the decisions made during the meeting several days prior.
At the very top of the command structure, Alpha served as Supreme Commander, positioned directly beneath the leadership of Cid and Gabriel.
The roles of the Seven Shades were defined as follows:
Beta — Data and Operational Archives Manager. Responsible for managing all reports, intelligence, and records of Shadow Garden's activities.
Gamma — Chief Financial Officer, Head of Military Strategy, and Head of Research & Development. The brain behind funding, grand-scale planning, and technological advancement.
Delta — Independent Combat Operative. A frontline annihilation unit, deployed to the most brutal battlefields.
Epsilon — Head of the Healing and Rescue Unit. Responsible for treating victims of the Diablo Curse and overseeing continued recruitment.
Zeta — Chief of Interregional Exploration and Infiltration. Oversees movement, covert operations, and reconnaissance beyond headquarters territory.
Eta — Chief Engineer and Systems Architect. Develops Shadow Garden's infrastructure, facilities, and technological systems.
At present, Gabriel was at headquarters—a secluded wooden cabin deep within the forest that served both as the central office and the living quarters of the Seven Shades.
His body, which still physically appeared to be that of a seven-year-old boy, lay slack against a lounge chair formed entirely from Dark Matter.
His gaze was fixed on the ceiling, carrying an existential weight far too heavy for a child to bear.
Resting open on his lap was a thick white book—its surface smooth and cold, composed wholly of Dark Matter.
It was Beetle Mark One, reshaped into a new form: an encyclopedic artifact named Raziel Mark One, containing the recorded memories of 5.8 billion humans who had perished during the zombie outbreak in the world of Highschool of the Dead.
Simply put, Gabriel had compressed the destruction of an entire civilization into a single book.
And now, from those very pages, he was studying how to become a good leader.
On the other side of the room, Morgan—now in her original form—moved lightly as she prepared a cup of warm tea.
Each of her motions was smooth and precise, as if she were tending not merely to her master… but to the core of a destiny that was slowly placing its weight upon the world.
Thin steam rose gently from the teacup, mingling with the stillness of the cabin.
Note: Morgan was able to return to her original form because Gabriel had released the Grimoire Equipment Usage.
Meanwhile, inside Gabriel's mind—Ash stood atop a collapsed tower, shrouded in pale mist.
"O world," he spoke softly yet with quiet grandeur, "hear the lament of shadows from the eternal void."
Reality, however, struck back without mercy.
What he needed to think about was not cosmic destruction or the fate of the stars—but bunk beds, food rations, and the pocket money of two hundred and thirty people.
Gabriel let out a quiet sigh.
He was not the kind of ruler who would build an organization on exploitation.
Shadow Garden was not some hellish corporation.
To Gabriel, even an ordinary soldier—let alone a knight—deserved proper wages, decent food, and a real place to sleep.
Especially those who were risking their lives to oppose the Cult of Diablo.
An organization that would one day shake the entire world… must never be built upon the suffering of its own people.
That was one thing he would never tolerate—not even as Ash, the sovereign of the Pale Mist.
Gabriel drew a long breath.
"The first mission is done," he murmured softly. "But the problem is… Shadow Garden is growing too fast. Having competent subordinates turns out to be troublesome in its own way."
His thoughts raced, weighing the realities of base construction, supply lines, facilities—
all the things that never appeared in heroic narratives.
"Expanding the Bounded Field would be easy," he continued quietly, "but that would be too conspicuous. A secret organization must not draw attention… at least, not yet."
He let out a small, rueful chuckle.
"Should I just build a Reality Marble?" Gabriel said half-jokingly. "Heh… I haven't even mastered that spell yet."
That was when soft footsteps echoed from the corner of the room.
Morgan had finished preparing the tea and walked over with graceful ease, carrying a cup of warm liquid.
Her dress—simple yet elegant—swayed gently with each step, while the subtle aroma of tea leaves slowly filled the cabin, bit by bit eroding the pressure hanging in the air.
She stopped beside Gabriel, as if deliberately leaving space for his thoughts to breathe.
"If your mist is starting to feel cramped," Morgan said calmly, "it's not because the world is shrinking."
She set the teacup beside him, her gaze deep and calculating—befitting a queen.
"It's because your shadowed kingdom is growing."
Her fingers lingered for a moment on the rim of the cup.
"A living organization is always troublesome," she continued evenly. "Soldiers need beds. Magi need workshops. Loyal followers need direction. But all of that…"
She looked at him then—truly looked at him.
"…is far better than sterile solitude."
For a moment, the cabin was quiet again.
Steam rose softly from the tea.
Gabriel did not answer right away. His eyes drifted to the surface of the liquid, where faint ripples reflected the dim light above—like a calm sea pretending it had never known storms.
"…You're saying," he murmured at last, "that this burden is proof it's alive."
Morgan smiled faintly.
"No," she corrected him. "It's proof that you chose people over emptiness."
The words settled—not heavy, not light—but real.
Somewhere deep within his mind, the image of Ash standing atop a ruined tower blurred slightly. The kabut pucat did not vanish, but it shifted—making room for something else.
Beds.
Workshops.
Warm meals.
A place to return to.
Gabriel exhaled, slower this time, and reached for the teacup.
"…Then I suppose," he said quietly, "I'll have to learn how to govern reality the boring way first."
Morgan's lips curved just a little.
"Good," she replied. "Kings who complain about logistics tend to last longer."
Morgan crossed her arms in front of her chest. "A Bounded Field that's too wide will invite attention. But a headquarters that's too small will breed chaos from within."
"A king doesn't need an artificial world like a Reality Marble," she continued, her tone a touch firmer. "He only needs a world that is properly ordered."
Gabriel glanced at the tea, then let a thin smile form before picking it up.
"Sometimes I forget…" he murmured, "…that I'm not just writing the narrative—I'm also building the stage."
He took a small sip, the warm steam brushing against his face.
"Reality Marble can wait. For now, we need enough beds, a kitchen that can feed two hundred people, and a warehouse that won't collapse."
A faint smile lingered on his lips.
"A shadowed kingdom, huh… Then let's build one that's actually livable."