Fin held a burial for Olivia and informed her family of her passing. They immediately blamed him for their daughter's death. Of course they would, because Fin never told them the true reason she had taken her own life. Instead, he lied and claimed it was his fault—that he was the reason she had died... that he had killed her. The crushing weight of that lie gnawed endlessly at his conscience.
Olivia's mother seized him by the collar, struck him across the face, then collapsed to her knees, her tears blending with the cold rain that poured relentlessly from the heavens. Even after enduring all of that, Fin could not bring himself to speak. No tears escaped his eyes, and no apology left his lips.
He could not apologize—not yet, at least. Not until the man responsible for all of this suffering lay dead. Olivia's sister gently pulled her grieving mother away, leaving Fin standing alone before Olivia's grave. He slowly placed a trembling hand upon the smooth surface of her tombstone.
"I'm sorry for your loss," a man's voice called from behind him.
Fin turned to find a man dressed entirely in black. At first glance, he carried himself like a nobleman. His posture, composure, and commanding aura all suggested noble blood. Yet something about him felt... different. He wasn't one.
"Life is cruel," the man said calmly. "Living at the very bottom of society is a miserable existence, but I can help you." He paused for a brief moment before removing his black leather gloves with deliberate care. "I can help you obtain your revenge. I can help your wife find peace... and help her family receive the justice they deserve."
Fin contemplated the stranger's offer for several long moments before arriving at his decision. Revenge was all that remained to him, and if this mysterious man possessed the means to grant it, then he was willing to pay whatever price was necessary.
"What do I have to do?" Fin asked.
The man extended his hand, his voice calm, almost welcoming despite the darkness of his proposal.
"Shake my hand."
Fin hesitantly accepted the mysterious man's handshake, and the instant their palms met, something within him changed. Strength surged through every fiber of his body. His senses sharpened beyond anything he had ever experienced. Every breath, every sound, every subtle movement around him became startlingly clear. Though he had never felt such power before, Fin instinctively knew what coursed through him.
Star Energy.
Yet he could not comprehend how it had entered his body.
He stared at the palm of his hand before lifting his gaze back toward the mysterious man, who had already begun walking away without another word.
"You should make use of Remnants to grow stronger," the man said over his shoulder. "Then hunt Fallen Star Beasts. Slay enough of them, and one day you will possess the strength required to kill every noble who stands in your way."
Gratitude welled within Fin's heart, but before he could utter even a single word of thanks, the man vanished. It was as though the shadows of the night themselves had swallowed him whole.
Fin's expression softened as he looked toward Tristan. Very little animosity remained in his eyes, though caution still lingered within them.
"I understand where your hatred comes from now," Tristan said quietly. "I carry a similar hatred for the nobility, and I would be grateful if you chose to join us."
Despite Tristan's words, Fin still did not trust him completely. Tristan had protected the very nobles he claimed to despise. Yet, at the same time, Fin understood why. If Tristan genuinely cared for the girl he had been protecting, then his actions made sense. Fin himself would never wish to inflict upon another the same unbearable pain that had consumed his own life.
He stepped forward slightly before returning his claws to his Celestial Forge.
"I'll join you," Fin said firmly, "but you will not stop me from killing the next noble I encounter."
A faint smile crossed Tristan's face before he tilted his head ever so slightly.
"Then we're friends... and partners now."
Something stirred within Fin's heart.
It felt... strange.
The words friend and partner echoed through his mind. They were concepts he had long since abandoned—things he believed were forever beyond his reach. Yet hearing them spoken by Tristan awakened something buried deep inside him. A warmth. A fragile hope he had thought had died alongside Olivia.
Amelia's POV
Garfield's circular stone dome slowly receded into the earth, revealing both him and Amelia. Beside them, the grand chandelier crashed to the floor, shattering into hundreds of glittering fragments that scattered across the polished tiles.
Garfield extended a hand to help Amelia to her feet, but she merely frowned and rose on her own. Dusting off her dress, she immediately turned her attention toward the exit.
"They couldn't have gotten far," Garfield said as he started walking toward the doorway.
Amelia quickly stopped him by grabbing his shoulder. The sternness in her expression softened as she spoke to someone who had once been one of her closest friends.
"You can't be serious," she said. "Tristan is our friend, and you're willing to hand him over... for what? Some meaningless recognition?"
Garfield turned toward her, frustration gradually transforming into anger as he slowly shook his head.
"Meaningless recognition?" he repeated with a quiet chuckle. "Of course you would think it's meaningless. You were accepted from the moment you were born. You were loved. But me?" He placed a hand against his own chest. "I was nothing. I was born into a world that never wanted me, rejected by the only parent I ever truly knew. You call it meaningless recognition... but to me, it's everything."
Amelia fell silent.
She had never realized just how desperately Garfield longed to be accepted. Her heart sank as her gaze drifted toward the polished floor of the grand hall.
Without another word, Garfield walked away, following after Tristan and his mysterious companion.
Tears slowly gathered in Amelia's eyes.
She felt trapped.
She had sworn an oath to protect her country and its people from every threat, and by all appearances Tristan had now become one of those very threats. Yet her heart refused to believe it. She could never see Tristan as someone who would harm innocent people for his own selfish ambitions.
And then there was Garfield.
She watched his retreating back, seeing not merely a friend walking away, but a man burdened by a lifetime of rejection and loneliness. The invisible weight resting upon his shoulders was so immense that Amelia could scarcely imagine enduring it herself.
Taking a deep breath, Amelia steadied herself and wiped away the tears threatening to fall.
Feeling sorry for him wasn't enough.
She had to do something.
Clenching her fists with renewed determination, she hurried out of the grand hall.
The moment the two of them stepped outside, they were greeted by a horrific scene.
Citizens collapsed one after another as their heads violently exploded into crimson clouds of blood and shattered bone. Blood poured from the mutilated remains as lifeless bodies dropped onto the cobblestone streets like discarded puppets.
Standing calmly amidst the massacre was a dark-skinned woman whose eyes were marred by long, jagged scars.
The woman turned the instant she noticed Garfield and Amelia.
Without saying a word, she gently tapped the base of her staff against the cobblestones.
Tap.
Tap.
Tap.
"You two carry conflict within your hearts," she said softly. "And both of those conflicts revolve around the same person."
Amelia's breathing became uneven once more.
Something about the woman filled her with overwhelming unease. Instinctively, Amelia summoned her rapier and pointed it toward the mysterious figure.
The instant thoughts of hostility entered her mind, a blinding pain erupted within her skull.
She clutched her head as the agony intensified.
The woman remained perfectly composed.
"Compose yourselves," she said calmly. "Do not harbor animosity toward me. I cannot be harmed... and merely entertaining such thoughts may bring harm upon yourselves instead."
'What does she mean?' Amelia wondered.
The woman continued walking toward them at an unhurried pace, displaying no obvious intention of attacking.
"I simply wish to speak," she said. "Perhaps... I can even offer a solution to the problems weighing upon your hearts."
Garfield and Amelia instinctively retreated two cautious steps for every single step the mysterious woman advanced.
By now, they had begun piecing together the nature of her terrifying ability.
To merely imagine harming her invited excruciating mental backlash.
To physically attack her...
...would likely mean death.
Perhaps that was precisely what had happened to the unfortunate citizens whose heads had exploded moments earlier.
'She's... terrifying.'