Chapter 155 – Twilight

“Kuh… cough…”

Crack. Snap.

One by one, Hermilla broke, snapped, and pulled out the spear shafts embedded in her body. Twenty-seven in total.

As the last one came free, another pierced her flesh.

“—gasp… cough…”

Step. Step.

Footsteps approached through her fading senses.

“What are you doing?”

“Oh my, I just saved your life. Why so angry?”

“Mind your own business.”

“Tch. Don’t be so cold.”

Another spear, launched from where the footsteps stopped, pierced her shoulder.

“Damn, you’re tough. What are you? Another experiment? Or did you siphon power from that priestess?”

“Shut… up.”

Hermilla shattered the remaining spears, trying to stand—

—when another impaled her.

“—Ugh…”

“If it’s a no, just say no. Don’t be rude to your elders.”

“Enough, Lana.”

“Hmm…”

Drip. Drip.

Slender fingers, incongruous against the thick spears, lifted Hermilla’s chin. Bright red hair, blood-red eyes, a thorny vine tattoo snaking from neck to cheek.

“So you’re Aaron’s disciple? Hermilla, was it?”

Lana, the Third Master, wielder of unerring strikes.

“Open your eyes, or I’ll take one.”

Lana’s thumb pressed against Hermilla’s right eye.

“Answer me.”

“Chuckle… spit. Get… lost.”

Hermilla spat a bloody wad at Lana, the spittle dripping down her tattoo. Lana smiled cruelly.

“Kyahaha! Feisty.”

Lana’s thumb pressed harder.

Then, she released Hermilla.

“Last chance. Leave.”

“Wow… you care enough to interfere? That little disciple must be precious.”

Lana withdrew her hand.

“I’d love to kill you… but I don’t want to fight Aaron.”

Lana smiled sweetly at Aaron—then plunged a dagger into Hermilla’s eye.

“—Kkgh!”

Another unavoidable future.

“Next time, keep those eyes open. Or I’ll take the other one.”

Footsteps retreated. Others approached.

Hermilla’s eyelids grew heavy, her mind hazy, her limbs numb.

She bit her tongue, forcing herself awake. She channeled her remaining mana, pulling out the spear shafts.

Drip. Her support gone, she collapsed.

“—groan… spit…”

“It’s over. Give up.”

Ignoring him, Hermilla reached for the dagger with her prosthetic hand, coating the blade with mana.

“—Haa… gasp!”

She yanked. Creak. Crack. The dagger resisted. The pain intensified.

She didn’t stop. Again. Again. Again.

The dagger.

Ripping.

Tearing.

“—Kyaaah!”

Clang. The dagger, pulled free by Aaron’s hand, fell beside her.

She looked at him, his expression subtly pained, like her Master used to look when she was hurt.

She looked towards Lana’s retreating form, towards where Rubia lay sleeping.

She pulled a potion from Mistilteinn’s subspace.

“Don’t move.”

She smashed the bottle, drinking the contents. Barely enough to sustain her. Her eye still bled profusely.

Mana flowed sluggishly, mending her broken bones. She pushed herself up, blood welling from her wounds, flesh peeling back to reveal bone.

She stumbled towards Lana.

“Hermilla. Enough.”

Creak. Creak. Using a spear shaft as a crutch, following Lana’s bloody scent, she crawled forward.

Thud.

“—Oof!”

Aaron’s leg snapped the spear shaft, sending her sprawling.

She didn’t stop. She couldn’t.

Dragging herself with her prosthetic, her broken jaw scraping against the ground, she crawled.

Crack. Screech. Discarded blades pierced her arms and legs.

Then—

“It’s over, Hermilla.”

A single future unfolded before her.

A future of defeat.

It has to change.

She turned her gaze skyward, contemplating her dwindling lifespan, everything she could sacrifice. Her broken body. Her shattered soul. Her accomplishments. Her power, touching the foundation of the world.

It was enough.

She reached towards the unattainable sky, drawing upon her inner strength, remembering her deepest desire, rejecting the future, embracing the past. Closing her eyes, she whispered the vow made before the graves of her fallen comrades:

I am the one who bends the world.

I am the one who will reach the heavens.

I am the one who will drag down the sun.

I am the one who will defy the gods.

I am…

…the one who will sacrifice everything.

To defy heaven itself.

***

Thump.

“Need a hand?”

Warmth enveloped her cold fingers.

“Looking pretty pathetic for someone who just got their ass kicked.”

A warm breeze washed over her.

“See? I told you. Magic is always stylish, even in defeat. It’s not too late. Want to learn?”

She opened her eyes.

“I, the genius Serr, will personally instruct you.”

Serr stood before her, milk-white hair stained with blood, an arrogant smirk on her face.

“Ready to learn?”

A tingling light enveloped Hermilla as Serr touched her. Wounds closed, bones mended, flesh regenerated, blood replenished. Mana flowed, invigorating her body.

Serr pulled her up.

“Where’d you lose your eye this time? Even I can’t make a prosthetic eye. Hmm… maybe a magic eye, after all this is over.”

“Lady Rubia… I have to… cough, spit… get to Lady Rubia. Another Master—”

“It’s fine. Yuria and Delia are handling it.”

“…You defeated a Master and helped them?”

Hermilla’s vision cleared, focusing on Serr.

“That’s what geniuses do.”

She finally saw Serr’s condition: hair disheveled, robes torn, body bloodied, wounds gaping, breath ragged.

“You’re not exactly unscathed either, Serr.”

Serr chuckled, tossing a broken staff, bow, and hammer from her subspace.

“Three Masters down, and I’m still standing. Not bad.”

“I… see…”

Hermilla looked from the discarded weapons to Aaron.

“Why haven’t you killed us? Why are you just watching?”

Aaron ignored her, looking at Serr.

“You killed Helen, Kiara… and Urman.”

“I did. Want their heads as trophies?”

“Their souls and roots… completely destroyed?”

“Obliterated. Beyond reincarnation. Gone. For good.”

Aaron nodded, then looked back at Hermilla.

“Hermilla. Was this future… among the ones you saw?”

“…No.”

Aaron looked skyward.

“The best and the worst. Coexistence, not domination. A future diverging from the predetermined path… So… the end is truly upon us.”

He looked down at her.

“Will you reconsider? Even now?”

“No.”

Aaron’s Anti-Magic erupted, raging wildly.

“Hermilla. Why defy fate? Why not give up?”

“A reason…? Why bother?”

She’d long since stopped searching for reasons.

She simply did.

Because her fallen comrades wanted it. Because her living comrades needed it.

“Because I will. Because I must. Because I carry their deaths, I cannot give up.”

“You’re different from me.”

A familiar smile touched Aaron’s lips.

The sky split open.

A black sun rose.

Death descended.

The stench of blood intensified.

A shadowy calamity engulfed the battlefield.

A warrior’s roar echoed.

“Then hold onto that resolve until the very end.”

Aaron raised his hand.

The experiments on the battlefield twisted and contorted, blood geysering from their bodies, staining the sky crimson.

“Lilith’s Apostle, the First Master, Aaron Gillard, decrees in the name of Lilith—”

A blood-red, inverted pentagram blossomed in the darkened sky.

“—harvest the death of this world.”

Blood surged from the earth. Screams echoed. Despair awakened.

“Primordial Demon, Brunhilde.”