In the Lands Between, within a castle unseen by any detector, a woman with golden hair slowly awoke from her slumber.
When she opened her eyes, she first glanced at the person sleeping beside her. Leaning down, she placed a gentle kiss on his lips before quietly leaving the soft bed.
She dressed, washed, and carefully tended to herself—paying particular attention to the excessive marks covering her skin. Then, draped in a thin veil, she stepped onto the balcony.
Resting her hands upon the railing, she looked out at the distant horizon through her cloth-covered eyes. After a moment, she lowered her gaze, gently brushing her fingers over the faint brand on her lower abdomen.
How many years had it been now?
She could no longer remember.
Part of it was because too much time had passed—so much that even recalling or counting the days felt meaningless. But another part was because of what she had endured here. The experiences had left her no time, nor clarity, to truly piece the years together.
To explain it properly, one had to return to the beginning—to when she first arrived.
After that battle, after her defeat.
As the loser, she had been brought here by Lloyd.
Though it was called a castle, in truth, it was a fragment of time—an isolated timeline Alice had stripped away. Its nature was closer to that of a separate domain. It had no effect on the real world, and its flow of time was vastly different from the outside. It was created specifically to confine and deal with her.
But that wasn't the important part. What mattered was what happened after she arrived—how she was treated.
That treatment had truly been excessive.
When she was first brought here, her condition was terrible after the ordeal she had just endured. Because of that, Lloyd didn't do anything to her at first. Instead, he tended to her, healed her, cared for her with patience.
But once her treatment was complete, and he confirmed that her condition had fully recovered...
The real battle began.
She still remembered that night clearly—a quiet evening beneath a pale, scattered moon.
After the final session of healing, she opened her arms.
Then, she was pinned down upon the bed.
And after that, everything happened naturally, like water flowing downhill.
As for her memory of that moment...
"Hot. Scorching hot."
That was how Chaos described it when Alice asked her about it later.
She wasn't lying. Even as a being of flame herself, after experiencing that searing heat firsthand, it had felt as though molten lava coursed through her veins.
That burning, that unbearable heat—it lingered even now. Whenever she recalled it, phantom pain flickered across her body.
And yet, she didn't dislike the feeling.
After all, as a flame, the yearning for heat and combustion was carved into every spark of her being.
And the instinct to devour one another—something they had spoken of countless times before—was no different. Though the form it took might have seemed... unconventional, it was, in its own way, a kind of "devouring." And what she was consumed by was a flame greater and hotter than herself.
Of course, as their clashes grew more frequent and their control improved, the heat began to subside.
In time, it became something else entirely—something almost pleasurable.
But as the heat cooled, the intensity rose. The pain, too, became sharper—more consuming than before.
After all, she hadn't been brought here to live some sweet, idyllic life. She had been brought here so her problem could be fixed.
Unlike other beings, Chaos had managed to earn universal hatred across the Lands Between. The moment she surfaced, even Marika would join forces with the Hornsent to suppress her. Even when Messmer exterminated the Hornsent, he never dared to touch the Frenzied Flame's underground warden or interrogate the old man who kept the seal. That alone spoke volumes about her significance.
And after examining Chaos—and the nature of the Frenzied Flame within her—Lloyd realized her "value" was even greater than he had imagined.
To put it simply: as one born from the Madness Plague, from the very moment she opened her eyes, her Frenzied Flame essence had been among the most exceptional of all the humanoid stars within the Lands Between.
Over the countless ages that followed, her very nature caused her to be rejected and hunted wherever she went. She was killed, sealed, her followers wiped out, her churches destroyed. Eventually, even her essence was sealed away by all, buried in the lonely darkness beyond the Lands Between.
And though, by her very nature, such punishment was perhaps deserved—perhaps even mild by comparison—it didn't change the fact that the Frenzied Flame was still alive.
After all that, the once-brilliant star among the humanoid races descended further into madness. Her mind twisted, her nature grew extreme, and even her essence began to change.
Or more directly—she had long since gone mad.
The only reason she still appeared "normal" at all was because the Frenzied Flame had always been madness incarnate. When madness became her truth, it only made her seem... more human.
Though it might seem almost human on the surface, as mentioned before, the madness of the Frenzied Flame runs deep—carved into its very essence. Whether before or after it lost its mind, it has always obsessed over that cursed Chaos, never forgetting its desire to destroy all life, reducing both spirit and flesh to ash.
And Lloyd couldn't treat her the same way he treated Elizabeth.
Because while both Elizabeth and the Formless Mother, for all their strangeness, possessed reason and could be communicated with—even if their logic and detachment sometimes bordered on the inhuman—Entropy Flame was different.
To expect meaningful dialogue from something consumed by Frenzied Flame was simply unrealistic.
As for "repairing" her?
Even setting aside how impossibly difficult it would be to restore such a broken system, even if he somehow succeeded and brought her back to her original form, she would still be Frenzied Flame—still obsessed with dragging everything and everyone into death. In truth, fixing her would be worse than leaving her as she was.
Faced with a god-level lunatic of the Lands Between—one who could not be cured or abandoned—her attending physician, Lloyd, chose a third option.
He worsened her condition.
Couldn't cure her? Then don't.
After all, in her "normal" state, she was already a deranged, antisocial being. Curing her would only make her mindlessly docile. So instead, he decided to embrace her madness—push it further, let the illness devour her entirely—and reshape her into something… less catastrophic.
As for how he did it...
Physical contact was only the appetizer. It was meant to deepen their bond and test her tolerance and adaptability.
After the testing phase ended, once Chaos grew accustomed to it—and even began to enjoy it—the main course began.
He started with simple physical modifications, then moved deeper, layer by layer, into her spirit and flesh. He studied every facet of her body and soul while continually injecting his own essence into her—using it to corrode her will, to stir her already fractured mind into chaos, then forcefully molding that mental slurry into the form he wanted.
And while he conducted these examinations and infusions, the other procedures never stopped.
Physical alteration. Soul distortion. Mental stimulation. Perceptual rewriting. Essence reclamation.
Given Chaos's unstable mental state, Lloyd showed no restraint. Every technique he considered "gentle"—by his own standards—was applied without hesitation.
Once the main course began, he didn't stop for a moment. One treatment followed another, each more invasive than the last. He gave Chaos no chance to rest. Even when she begged for mercy, he simply picked her up and forced her to continue.
That was the main reason her sense of time had blurred so completely.
For in those days, every time she opened her eyes, she was already under his hands again.
Daytime was for the soul.
Nighttime was for the body.
If she couldn't endure it in between—or at dusk, or dawn—he'd target her mind instead, breaking her consciousness in waves.
The timing was rarely clear, and often the sessions blurred together—body, soul, and spirit all wrung through the same relentless cycle.
But one thing was certain: she was never allowed to rest.
Still, despite how excruciating and endless the process had been, the final result proved it was not in vain.
...
After watching the scenery from the balcony for a while and judging that the time was right, Chaos turned back into the castle.
She went to the kitchen, put on an apron, and began to prepare breakfast.
As she focused on cooking, a pair of hands suddenly reached around her from behind.
She played along for a bit, indulged in the affection, then returned to her task, finishing the meal and setting it out for the two of them.
After they'd eaten, she looked at the man across from her and smiled softly.
"What's the plan for today? Bedroom? Dungeon? Or… right here?"
"Neither."
Lloyd set down his utensils and looked at her.
"We're going back."
"Back?"
Chaos blinked, momentarily stunned. Then, as she processed what he meant, her expression settled into calm acceptance.
"Alright. Let's go back, then."
Her answer was composed—too composed.
By all logic, after spending so long in this place and enduring so much, she should've shown some sign of emotion—reluctance, excitement, something.
But she didn't.
The reason, of course, lay in Lloyd's earlier "adjustments."
Though his methods had been many—and some excessive—he had exercised a precise control. He hadn't shattered her mind, but rather fine-tuned it gradually, shaping her bit by bit according to her original nature. That was why the process had taken so long.
And the result of that modification...
Frenzied Flame has two faces: one of despair, and one of pure emotion born from that despair.
During this time, Lloyd's goal had been to amplify the latter—to strengthen the side of her driven by feeling, in order to suppress the one consumed by destruction.
In other words, he magnified Chaos's love-sick devotion—redirecting her focus from "returning the world to chaos" to centering entirely on him, her beloved.
His will became her law. Chaos and Frenzied Flame came after.
As long as he didn't express the desire to end the world, she wouldn't act upon such impulses. And in doing so, he preserved her sense of self to the greatest extent possible—keeping her from being completely overwritten into something unrecognizable.
Even so, while Chaos now placed Lloyd's will above all else and obeyed without question, she still remained Chaos at her core.
She still had her own thoughts—and small, personal desires.
For instance...
"Before we leave, let's do it once more."
The blonde woman straddled the man, leaning down as strands of her hair brushed against his face, soft and faintly fragrant.
"But this time, I want to take the lead."
"After all, you've been bullying me for so long—it's only fair I get some payback."
Lloyd agreed.
It wasn't a big deal. He had always been the one in control, mostly to reshape Chaos. Now that the process was complete, letting her take charge for once as a small reward seemed harmless enough.
But...
After milking, filling cream puffs, sandwich cookies, and making "snow cakes," Chaos curled up in Lloyd's arms. She traced slow circles on his chest with her finger before raising her head and whispering softly,
"Oh, and I've got another idea. I wonder if you'd be willing to try it..."
This time, however, Lloyd didn't agree immediately. Instead, he told her to explain first.
Then...
Chaos reached up and plucked out her own eyes.
"This."
Lloyd stared at her hollow sockets in silence.
He wasn't particularly into such things—and the sight was more bizarre than enticing—but it wasn't an outrageous request either. If she insisted...
"Ah, not that."
Noticing his look, Chaos shook her head and held out the two eyeballs in her hands.
"I mean these."
"These?"
Lloyd blinked, staring at the pair resting in her palms.
"You want me to eat them? Or... hold them in my mouth?"
"No."
Seeing he still didn't get it, Chaos kindled orange flames in her hand. The eyeballs began to rot and swell.
In seconds, the once-clear orbs transformed into two clusters of Frenzied Flame grapes—shifting and pulsating like miniature, grotesque heads.
They were slick, soft, and oddly textured.
That was Lloyd's only comment.
...
When it was all over, the experience still felt somewhat abstract, but Lloyd didn't dwell on it. He simply left the dungeon with a satisfied Chaos in tow, returning to reality.
"How much time has passed?"
"Less than half a day," answered a golden-haired figure who appeared beside him.
Lloyd nodded. "Right. About the temperature."
"From what I've calculated, ordinary people wouldn't last a second," she said. "But anyone with a strong affinity for fire—or at least high resistance—should be able to withstand it."
It sounded lenient, but in truth, few across the entire Lands Between met that requirement. Even Elizabeth didn't qualify; the Formless Mother's power was rooted in cursed blood. Her Bloodflame was only an offshoot—its heat far weaker.
Still, though the conditions were strict, Lloyd did know someone who might barely fit the bill... provided she met certain requirements herself.
"Melina," he said, "how's your control over the Black Flame?"
"Almost there."
Because of the distorted time flow in the dungeon, Melina and the others hadn't sensed what had happened elsewhere and were unaware of the details.
When she heard Lloyd's question, she didn't think too deeply about it. Instead, her mind went to something they'd discussed long ago.
"You want me to burn the tree?" she asked. "We could try."
Lloyd hadn't forgotten. In fact, summoning Melina's Black Flame hadn't just been for its resistance—it was mainly for this purpose.
"Then let's try."
Without hesitation, he brought Melina to the Site of Grace before the Elden Throne.
The surroundings were unchanged—quiet and untouched.
A few spectral chairs still stood nearby. In the distance, the Thorns of Denial continued to sprawl across the ground in silence.
But unlike before, this time he had a method to deal with them—without risking breaking the system in one blow.
Melina stepped forward.
She raised her hand.
Black-red flames roared to life.
Wood cracked and hissed under the burning heat as the massive thorns began to fall away.
At the same time, the sound of heavy footsteps echoed from the opposite direction.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
Focused on her fire, Melina didn't notice.
But Lloyd did. The moment he heard it, he turned his head sharply—his eyes lighting up at what he saw.
Standing there was a burly old man clad in ornate armor, a great lion perched proudly on his shoulder.
Yes—an old man.
And as everyone knew, Lloyd had a weakness for old warriors. He could never pass one by.
He didn't know the situation, but the instant their eyes met, Lloyd was sure.
This man was a true warrior.
And the best way to greet a warrior was, of course—
"How about a match?"
The old man didn't look surprised or confused. On the contrary, his eyes gleamed.
He lifted his massive axe.
"Of course."