The trio chatted as they entered the castle.
A chilling wind swept through, laden with endless resentment.
To ordinary people, it was eerie; to them, it was palpable bitterness.
"This child's resentment…" Persephone sighed. "If it had formed in the Underworld or Hell, she might've become a demon."
Alistair nodded. "Indeed."
With a thought, he summoned a shadowy figure.
Roar!
A faintly feminine form, now beastlike, snarled and thrashed, nearly devoid of reason.
Alistair flicked his finger, infusing divine power into her soul. The resentment purified, merging into her essence, while dark light bloomed.
A figure slowly materialized.
A green-haired girl appeared, eyes closed, floating midair.
Under Alistair's power, her body reformed, reviving. Her corrosive resentment transformed into pure dark energy, fueling her future growth.
Calm returned.
With a soft murmur, the girl opened her eyes.
"You…" She saw Alistair, words failing her.
He smiled, presenting a kin contract.
Aeste signed without hesitation. The contract's knowledge flooded her mind, and after a moment's confusion, she regained clarity.
"Your Majesty! Lady Underworld!" She knelt respectfully.
Alistair smiled. "Rise."
"Thank you, Your Majesty." Aeste stood.
He glanced at her. "Your body's restored, but your soul's resentment lingers within, a foundation for growth. It's potent enough to birth a god."
In the mythic era, such resentment could've made her a demon god. In this age, she'd have become a vengeful wraith, doomed to destruction.
"Yes!" Aeste nodded obediently.
Alistair smiled, then said, "This trip's been fruitful. Aeste's talented. Let's check the Dark Cloths—have they broken their limits?"
Her, Jani, and Marin were ideal Dark Saints: Ophiuchus, Chameleon, Aquila.
If the Dark Cloths transcended, they could easily become formidable Dark Saints.
Notably, Dark Universes 003, 004, and 005 provided many kin.
Nazarick's women served as maids, not Specters or Demon Teigu users.
In 003, beyond Utaha, Megumi, and Eriri, most were ornamental canaries.
Thus, in 004 and 005, only Shalltear, Desksdeath, Nigredo, and Rubedo were combat-ready.
Shalltear became a Specter, a unique third-stage one: Heavenly Longevity Star, Vampire Shalltear Bloodfallen.
Desksdeath, Nigredo, and Rubedo trained their small cosmos, aiming to stabilize before choosing Specter or Demon Teigu paths.
Geniuses like them could choose their path; ordinary kin took what was given.
Alistair refocused. "Let's go."
From three, they became four, stepping onto Death Queen Island's depths, entering the dimension housing the 88 Dark Cloths.
Buzz!
The Cloths resonated at his arrival.
Alistair inspected them, pleased. "Impressive. They've begun breaking their limits. With time, their resentment will fuel further transformation."
"Dust," Persephone said, "your divine power makes their breakthrough almost certain. Each Dark Cloth bears your essence."
"Probably," Alistair conceded, smirking.
His divine power was immense. If the Cloths failed to transcend after such investment, it'd be embarrassing.
He raised his hand, and the 88 Dark Constellations glowed, condensing into translucent black crystals, each holding a starry pattern and a Dark Cloth.
They formed a bracelet, which Alistair wore.
"Not bad," he said. "Aeste and the Dark Cloths' breakthrough. Time to return."
"One more month of rest, then the next phase."
Persephone nodded, smiling.
They vanished, reappearing in Underworld City.
Alistair lounged on the throne, leg crossed, chin propped, deep in thought.
"Albedo," he said, "bring Jani and Marin."
"Yes, Your Majesty!" She bowed and left.
Alistair's gaze fell on Aeste. A bead on his constellation bracelet glowed darkly.
The Dark Ophiuchus Cloth materialized before her.
"Aeste, this suits you," he said. "Ophiuchus has two parts: the serpent-bearer, the pinnacle Gold Cloth, and the serpent, the Silver Cloth. Asclepius became a god but fell as an evil deity, challenging all gods."
"Even Athena couldn't save him," Persephone added.
Alistair nodded. "So, the Silver Ophiuchus is the Gold's kin?"
Persephone smiled. "If you put it that way, Dust, it fits."
"Whatever," Alistair shrugged. "It doesn't matter. My Dark Cloths lack Gold, Silver, or Bronze distinctions."
They'd all transcended, like Surplices, tiered by potential but equal in上限, depending on the Specter's development.
"Thank you, Your Majesty!" Aeste knelt, eyes gleaming.
Her lifelong struggle to match her sister, to become a Saint, had failed. Now, under Alistair, she had her Cloth—Dark, but enough.
She bowed deeply.
Under Alistair and Persephone's gentle smiles, she rose, igniting her small cosmos.
The Dark Ophiuchus Cloth disassembled and reformed around her, armoring her swiftly.
"This…" Aeste stared, stunned.
Her sister's Silver Ophiuchus Cloth was familiar, but this…
"It's my divine power," Alistair chuckled. "If a limit-breaking Dark Cloth couldn't surpass the original, I'd be a laughingstock."
"Your Majesty…" Aeste stammered, overwhelmed.
He waved dismissively. "I know. Bronze Cloths cover about 20%, Silver 50%, Gold 70%. Ophiuchus and Aquila Silver Cloths are around 10%, right?"
Aeste nodded, still confused.
"Cloths evolve with a Saint's cosmos," Alistair explained. "Surplices, Scales, all warrior armors do. But Cloths regress after a Saint's death, storing their origin until a new Saint activates them, potentially stronger."
"It's a divine limit on Athena's Saints. Otherwise, Saints would outpace other gods' warriors, unbalancing Holy Wars."
Aeste pondered his words.
"Your Dark Cloth," he continued, "has no tier distinctions. Its coverage rivals Gold Cloths at 70%, with equal quality, awaiting your development."
"Yes, Your Majesty!" Aeste vowed. "I won't disappoint you."
He smiled, saying nothing.
Albedo returned with Jani and Marin.
"Jani and Marin are here," she announced.
Alistair glanced at Jani. She'd improved but still seemed haunted.
Without a word, he summoned the Dark Chameleon Cloth before her.
"Your Majesty…" Tears fell as Jani stared, speechless.
Her resentment was secondary. The true pain was her Cloth's abandonment.
Alistair smiled. "Don't cry, Jani. Wear this Dark Cloth. Develop it further, maybe to God Cloth level. Won't that be exciting?"
"Yes!" Jani wiped her tears, nodding.
She ignited her cosmos, awakening the Dark Chameleon Cloth.
It enveloped her, familiar yet warmer, like a mother's embrace. Gripping her whip, she vowed not to fail Alistair.
Alistair glanced at Jani, then Aeste, before turning to Marin.
Propping his chin, he asked casually, "Marin, any thoughts? You've been in the Underworld a while. Still not ready to comply?"
His tone was mild, his interest in her a collector's whim. If she resisted, she'd stay confined.
***
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