"Not too bad," I nodded, arms crossed. "I'd say you did pretty good with your whole 'show, don't tell' approach. Well done, Athy."
She sobbed. Actually sobbed, then wrapped her arms around my waist and buried her face against my stomach as we sat on the couch.
"He didn't have to be that honest... I did my best!" she wailed, voice muffled as I stroked her hair.
"I mean... he did have a point about your method-"
She lifted her head just enough to glare at me.
"Whose side are you on?"
"No one..."
"You're my boyfriend! You should be on my side!"
I sighed, then leaned in to nuzzle her hair before planting a soft kiss on her forehead.
"Yes, yes. But you gotta admit, using metaphysical constructs to explain how grammar works... yeah..."
My hand kept ruffling through her hair, and she kept nuzzling into me like some needy cat.
"There, there. Our professor may have been a bit... harsh about your work, but at least he-"
A sharp, blinding pain tore through my skull.
My vision warped. The room twisted sideways. A cold shiver crawled up my spine as a voice—her voice, and yet not hers, echoed in my mind:
"Kyle... I'll be there soon enough."
"Wait for me... we will be together again..."
"Like always..."
I clutched my head. Anathasia lifted hers from my stomach, her pupils constricting as she went completely still. Her grip on my shirt tightened.
It wasn't her voice.
Not the one in front of me.
And yet-it was.
The pain faded, but the voice lingered like a stain in the back of my mind. Anathasia stood, cupping my cheek, her expression dropping into something I couldn't read.
"You're fine... good," she murmured.
I blinked hard, trying to steady the tilting room, then looked up at her—
She was calm, but the tension in her jaw betrayed her.
"Athy... what—"
Her finger pressed against my lips before I could finish.
"I'll take care of it. Just... keep yourself safe."
For a split second, her eyes hardened. The world flickered—
—then everything went dark.
---
Back in the Collective Sphere, outside time and space
"Fluctuations..."
The lower layers trembled. The ripples were unmistakable-the Ruins were the epicenter.
"It's here," I murmured, staring into the distance as Roselia stood beside me.
The presence pressing against the Sphere was overwhelming. Not quite reaching her level, the one who sat above all of us, but hollowed, distorted. As if something had carved out the soul behind the power.
"Seems like your hypothesis was right, Rania," Roselia smiled, arms folded as she watched the lattice tremble. "How exciting."
"...This is the worst-case scenario," I replied, jaw tight. The weight of it pressed against my very existence, cold and suffocating. "This thing... whatever it is... is beyond us."
"Agreed. It hasn't even left the Ruins, and yet its presence is already this intense..." Roselia's voice carried a disturbingly thrilled undertone.
I stared at her flatly. Was she serious right now?
"It reminds me of when I once challenged Miss Veridielle... ahh, how nostalgic..."
I instinctively took a step back. The look in her eyes, pure ecstasy.
She really was insane.
I shook my head, trying to devise anything that resembled a plan. The Second Outer God,bThe Ruin Guardian still hasn't responded, still remaining dormant. And involving Anathasia-
No. I didn't want to rely on her unless I had to.
Then, without warning, the presence vanished.
Completely.
As if it had never been there.
"...huh?"
"Seems like it's already broken into the Contradictory Sphere."
That voice-!
I turned instantly.
Anathasia Veridielle Augthoria.
The one whose mere existence steadied the entire Sphere, often without anyone realizing she was even present.
"Anathasia..." I breathed. Roselia fell silent, her demeanor shifting back into its composed and elegant default.
"Miss Veridielle, fancy seeing you here~" Roselia chimed, walking forward with her hands neatly tucked in her sleeves.
Anathasia didn't respond.
Her expression was unreadable, eerily still.
The playful warmth she'd shown me since my ascent was gone, replaced by the distant, emotionless calm of her past self.
She descended slowly until we stood face to face. Her presence wasn't crushing, meaning she was restraining herself.
"You did not engage," she said softly. "Knowing the nature of the threat is still unknown."
She nodded at me, a small approving smile.
"A wise move."
Then she turned away, her gaze piercing through the infinite expanse, through the Collective Sphere and straight into the Contradictory Sphere.
"How peculiar..." she murmured to herself.
Something was wrong.
Terribly wrong.
She didn't feel like her.
It was as if the awakened, emotional Anathasia had been buried, replaced by the cold, distant version from long before.
Did something happen to that human she cherished so deeply...?
If that was the case—
This new threat wasn't the most dangerous thing emerging.
The real danger might have been the quiet, simmering storm behind Anathasia's calm façade.
"That being said... I would love to deal with it immediately. However..."
Her voice trailed off, her gaze lowering-not in hesitation, but in calculation.
"That entity may have a connection to an ending I once overwrote," she continued. "It may affect him in ways I cannot foresee."
Overwrote?
My brows knit slightly. Even Roselia's usual feline playfulness evaporated; the air around her shifted, sleeves falling still as her posture sharpened.
"By 'overwrote,' you do not mean to imply..." Roselia murmured, her tone uncharacteristically grave.
"I overwrote a supposed ending after rewriting a girl's essence," Anathasia said. No emotion. Not guilt. Not pride. Only fact. Her eyes were distant, unfocused, as though she were speaking from a different version of herself. One older, colder, untouched by the attachments she now carried.
Roselia's eyes widened.
And for a moment, just a moment, her controlled serenity faltered. A ripple spread across the Collective Sphere, thin fractures of causality spiderwebbing outward before she forced them still.
"Miss Veridielle... why would you-"
"Because I needed him to stay safe."
Anathasia's interruption was gentle, but absolute. A verdict, not a justification.
Roselia swallowed her protest, looking away. She understood the magnitude of what Anathasia confessed. So did I. Rewriting an ending—not altering a timeline, not shifting a probability, but replacing a destined conclusion itself—was the kind of taboo that made even Outer Gods hesitate.
Yet Anathasia had done it without flinching.
Of course she had.
But as I watched the distant, faintly fractured expression on her face, one thought settled coldly in my mind:
If she was admitting this, something far worse was stirring behind her calm façade.
And whatever that entity was...
its arrival might not be the true threat.
The real danger lay in what Anathasia had already done, and what she might do again.
"For now, both of you stay alert. I'll remain in the Archive for the time being," she said, taking a step back as her outline began to peel away like shedding light. "Additionally—"
"Don't let that thing take a single step beyond the Demiurge's Images."
Her voice cut cleanly through the space, and then she was gone, snuffed out so completely the place felt wrong without her.
Don't let that thing take a single step beyond the Demiurge's Images...
For her to react like this... toward anything... was unprecedented.
She commanded everything from the Archive down to the baseline. Nothing ever forced her hand.
"What are you really planning...?" I murmured, unease creeping up my spine. "Anathasia..."
A pause.
"Wait, the Archive…?"