— — —
BEGINNING NOTE:
Okay okay, I just wanted to pop in for a moment. If you are on Webnovel, then this note is at the beginning of the chapter. If you are on Ao3, it's the Beginning note.
I've seen many of you asking "When is Sunny going to reunite with Nephis." And I just want to say... and I mean this as respectfully as possible, some of you cannot read circumstances.
Nothing allows for them to meet as of right now. They are in two different locations, and Nephis thinks both Cassie and Sunny are dead. (It's quite obvious by the Cassie tag that she's not dead either.)
Sunny is waking up the next time we see Saint's POV, so more on that later. But even then, nothing will allow him to meet Nephis. He has no idea where she is, or where to even begin to look.
He has his own thoughts to tackle, and once he's informed of the Disasters, there will be that as well. And as more events unfold, that'll simply bring more reasons as to WHY he can't go and look for Nephis.
Because yes of COURSE, he'll be looking for Sleepers across the Forgotten Shore, and by connection, he will actively look for Nephis. Do not be afraid of that.
HOWEVER! The Forgotten Shores is as large as a continent. He'll have to do this while traversing all the threats that roam the place now, including the Disasters. So all in all, no, Sunny isn't going to reunite with Nephis for a long while. There are many events that'll unfold before that happens.
Please, if you see this note, for the love of god stop asking. Because I won't be answering such questions anymore. You will see hints and KNOW when they are about to see each other again. So until then, extinguish your hopes, because it's not happening.
— — —
Gunlaug understood the terror of a Disaster better than anyone. He had lived in the shadow of the Nightmare Spell long enough to know the hierarchy of power, yet his eyes betrayed a great astonishment. The Legionnaire moved with a clashing grace as it fended off the simultaneous assault of Changing Star and the Blood Lord. Flanking them, the Spire Messenger, the three-headed Cerberus Echo, and a small flying serpent wove through the air like a storm of claws and fangs.
Each of these fighters was an opponent Gunlaug would have avoided at all costs. The loss of his Golden Echo had shifted the balance of power; he knew he could no longer best Nephis, and Seishan was a monster of a different caliber.
But this Disaster was an anomaly. It was a Corrupted Beast, something that implied the fall of a Saint. Sleepers — wretches of the Dormant rank — were standing against a person that was once capable of facing Great Nightmare Creatures. By any law of reason, they should have been piles of unrecognizable bodies.
'How are we still alive?'
The defiled Saint possessed the inherent power to annihilate them in a heartbeat, yet it was being pushed back through the scorched earth. Gunlaug moved instinctively, covering Seishan's flank as she lunged forward. Her Transcendent weapon manifested as a tide of flowing, ripping blood, its surface covered with runes that pulsed with a dark light. The rippling hard blood shifted shapes according to her will, striking out like a lash of iron.
Seishan descended upon the Legionnaire alongside the Cerberus, suffering fatal impacts that would have ended a normal life. Twice already, her intestines had been spilled and her lung reduced to a mess of ruined flesh. Each time, Nephis was there, her white flames searing the wounds shut and dragging her sister back from the brink of death.
The engagement had opened with the combined volley of forty Sleepers. Arrows hissed through the air; while many went wide, enough found their mark to ail the monster. Their purpose was not to kill, but to distract and slow the defiled Saint down.
Caster observed the frantic ballet with a sharp, calculating gaze. The Legionnaire's defense was supposed to be Transcendent, yet it felt fragile, more akin to an amplified Ascended armor of the Seventh Tier. Its movements were clunky, drained of the terrifying fluidity a Saint should possess.
Ever since the creature had spoken, the reason for their survival became clear. Something within that shell was… fighting back. A lingering spark of human consciousness was struggling against the madness of the Corruption, actively sabotaging the beast's own lethality.
Gunlaug felt the impact as he was flung back through a pair of trees, rolling across the dirt in a spray of blood. He lay there for a moment, tallying the facts of the miracle.
First, the seal — the nature of which remained a mystery — acted as a vampire. It siphoned the Legionnaire's essence and lifeforce, leaving it a hollowed-out husk of its former glory.
Second, the Legionnaire was denied the innate ability of Nightmare Creatures to regenerate Soul Essence at a rapid degree. It lived in a state of terminal depletion. Any carrier of the Nightmare Spell knew that severe essence exhaustion could weaken a Saint to the point of vulnerability. It was a miracle the defiled Saint could swing his weapon at all.
Thirdly, he was still in there. The Legionnaire, trapped for at least thousands of years, retained his mind. He knew he was defiled.
He was limiting his own speed, creating openings so that someone, finally, would grant him the mercy of death.
This was what allowed Nephis and her destructive white flame to hold out for ten minutes in the heart of the storm. This was why Seishan and the Echoes hadn't been crushed like insects beneath a giant's heel.
In front of Gunlaug, the spectacle continued. Nephis grit her teeth, her arms straining as she lifted her blade to block the heavy descent of the aspergillum. The Spire Messenger stepped in, adding its two massive hands to the struggle. The stone beneath them cracked as the Saint's weight began to drive them into the earth.
The Legionnaire attempted to dodge a follow-up, but the flying serpent coiled around its leg, anchoring it for a fleeting second. Seishan's coiling blood condensed into four razor-sharp lines. She swiped down, the claw attack shredding the crimson bandages across the creature's back.
'Come on! At this rate we'll really kill him.'
Nephis felt the thought echo in her mind as the Legionnaire let out a sound that resembled joy. It was a hoarse, horrifying voice, but it carried the tone of someone seeing the sun after an eternity of night.
"Yes… yes… yes! Am I to fall here, after so long? You really are one of those accursed things… glorious!"
Nephis frowned, her face inches from the creature's visor. She could see every detail of the tarnished metal, the smell of blood and rot filling her lungs.
'I'm sorry.'
She saw the man drowning in the depths of that madness. He didn't want victory. He simply had no choice but to die because living as a Disaster was a fate far more cruel.
Seishan's voice suddenly pierced the air, sharp with alarm.
"Nephis get back!"
Nephis's eyes widened as the Legionnaire finally released its aspergillum. It slammed its two fists together, and a sphere of condensed soul essence shimmered in the narrow space between its gauntlets.
'It still has some left?!'
The Saint had siphoned that essence from the fourteen Sleepers it had slaughtered since the onset of the battle. At once, the creature outstretched its hands and let out a bone-shaking roar.
The outburst was a wave of raw, unseen force. The shockwave tossed Nephis and the Spire Messenger aside like scrap, while the flying serpent that had been coiling around the creature's leg was thrown into a state of paralysis. No one was fast enough to intervene.
The Legionnaire reached down and crushed the snake with a single, closing hand.
The Sleepers had lost the Echo of an Awakened Devil in an instant.
Nephis rolled through the dirt, rejoining Seishan to heal her wounds. She arched her back and shouted toward the canopy, her voice carrying a command over the din of battle.
"Archers! Poisoned arrows, now!"
The Legionnaire looked up, meeting a descent of numerous glowing projectiles that resembled falling stars. Effie moved into position, ready to rush the moment the arrows met their mark to pin the beast in place.
But from her perspective, everything stopped for a heartbeat.
'Huh?'
Effie watched as the defiled Saint did not move a muscle to defend itself.
The Legionnaire simply stood there, outstretching its arms to welcome the volley. The arrows pierced the battered silver plates and shredded crimson bandages, yet the creature laughed even as its constitution violently reacted to the intrusion.
Because it was a Corrupted Transcendent, the toxins did little more than add to the weight of its movements. Blood flowers, poisonous enchantments, and Kido's alchemical formulas — every resource they possessed had been used into that single batch of munitions.
From the distance, Tessai's voice echoed through the ruins as he pulled back his hand.
"Knot your bows again! We'll need the next batch ready in mere moments!"
Tessai had regained consciousness five minutes into the fight, though he was effectively out of it. Surviving a backhanded strike from a Saint was a feat in itself, but he would not be lifting a weapon again today.
The defiled Saint's body shook with a jubilant, raspy chuckle as it slowly straightened its back. It looked like a punctured, metallic urchin, a piteous and terrifying sight for a man of its former stature.
The Sleepers knew they could not relent. Even if the Legionnaire looked dead twenty times over, its vitality was far beyond that of any standard Nightmare Creature.
Their strategy was holding, sustained by the constant rotation of Nephis and Seishan on the front lines, with Effie, Gunlaug, and Caster filling the gaps. The remaining hundred Sleepers acted as a living wall, using their defense memories and their own bodies to absorb the Saint's diverted strikes.
The Legionnaire rose with frenzied eyes burning behind its shattered visor. It reached out and reclaimed the aspergillum, beginning a slow, measured trek toward the leaders of this human Resistance.
Even in this, it appeared to be pulling against invisible chains of its own making.
Effie glanced at Nephis, her face slick with sweat and grime.
"How much longer do you think it'll be able to hold out? It may look like we're doing good, but its vitality isn't dropping any faster than it will now. At this rate, we'll end up dying first."
Caster gave a quick nod of agreement. The Saint was sustaining a litany of wounds, largely because it was actively seeking its own destruction.
Seishan looked at her sister with a grim expression, her movements beginning to show the first signs of fatigue.
"Do you have anything else left up your sleeve? We really are going to die at this rate. You're already reaching your limit with your flames due to the Crimson Blight, and that poor Saint can't hold itself back forever. Just look at it and how it's shaking."
Nephis's face hardened as she watched the Legionnaire. The ruins were a graveyard of debris, with the entrance to the catacombs nearly choked by rubble. The clearing was a cacophony of roaring essence and the screams of the dying.
'Come on, please… anything will work. What can I do?'
The Legionnaire finally burst forward, a blur of silver and red.
"It's coming!"
The group scattered as Seishan stepped into the path of the charge. The flowing blood of her gauntlets surged forward to form a spinning, crimson shield. The Legionnaire's aspergillum was thrust forward like a spear, clashing against the rippling blood with a sound of grinding metal.
"Agh—!"
Seishan grit her teeth so hard that a trickle of red escaped her lips. The veins in her arms stood out like cords as the Saint drove her back.
The defiled Saint planted its feet, drawing a surge of essence into its next movement. A sudden burst of force threw Seishan several meters away, her body slamming into the stone ruins.
Before the Saint could move to finish her, Effie intercepted the path. She raised her shield and braced with both arms, meeting the full weight of the Saint's power. The result was a horrific spray of crimson; both of her arms were shattered by the force of the impact. She let out a scream as she was thrown back like a ragdoll, leaving two long streaks of blood behind her in the dirt.
The Legionnaire was immediately pinned as Nephis and Caster lunged from behind. Both of their blades sank deep into its back, piercing the lungs — with Nephis's steel driving straight through the side of its heart.
The creature twisted its head a full hundred and eighty degrees, staring at them for a silent, terrible second before spinning its entire body. Nephis and Caster were thrown off, the force of the rotation compelling them to dismiss and resummon their memories to maintain their grip.
"That did some damage! Keep it up!"
Caster's shout carried a desperate edge.
By now, the creature's vitality was failing to stem the tide of its own blood. Its heart was pierced and its lungs were punctured, but it remained an abomination of the Nightmare realm. Even without essence regeneration, the world itself seemed to sustain the creature's dying lifeforce, refusing to let the hollowed Saint fall.
And yet…
Nephis rolled onto her side, spitting a mouthful of hot blood into the dirt. She looked up at the Legionnaire with a gaze heavy with a burgeoning, tragic realization.
The Legionnaire was on its knees, its body bristling with arrows that had pierced deep into the silver and flesh. Despite the carnage, the creature held her stare with a clarity that cut through the madness.
"Come now… you know none of these attacks will kill me. It is insufficient."
'But what can I do…?'
The words echoed in her mind, a hollow refrain. This was the third time he had addressed her with that haunting certainty. She sifted through every scrap of knowledge, every potential strategy that could extinguish a defiled Saint, and found herself standing at the edge of a void.
The Legionnaire shook its head with a deliberate, slow motion, plucking the arrows from its flesh in a single second. The crowd of Sleepers watched in a paralyzed silence as the defiled Saint rose. It took a strange, rattling breath, its cracked visor tilted toward the starless expanse above.
Slowly, it raised its hand toward the sky, reaching for something impossibly distant and lost to the ages.
"Constellia…"
Then, the aspergillum manifested in its grip once more, summoned with the ease of a memory. It leveled the weapon at Nephis.
"You, one who carries the Blood of the Sun. Are you not a Sun, capable of burning everything that is to be? Though small as you may be, you are still a child of the sun, just as my king was."
The Saint dropped the weapon into the dust with a heavy thud. It stretched a trembling hand toward her, tilting its head in a gesture of inquisitive sorrow.
"Blood of the Sun. I can see it in you. You are very capable of burning me away."
Nephis finally forced a reply, her throat dry and her voice little more than a hoarse whisper.
"I… I can't."
The Legionnaire fell silent. As Seishan recovered with the aid of a curative memory and limped to her sister's side, Gunlaug and Caster stepped into the gap, weapons drawn in a defensive line. The Saint began to walk forward again.
It shook its head, gesturing with a hand that seemed to claw at the air.
"No. Your Souls are large enough. Your flame is bright and hot enough. Your will is overwhelming and your spirit is strong. All you need is a spark to light the flame."
The creature pointed, though its arm jerked as if the Corruption were fighting for control of its muscles.
"All you need is to become that spark. Rather than trying to force that flame to blaze, start with how insignificant it is now, and let it consume itself in a final, glorious detonation."
A happy, hollow laugh escaped the visor.
"For you are a Blessing and a Curse. You are a Nephilim, and the antithesis to both those who are of the Flame and those who are the Void. It is your 'choice' to make."
The creature suddenly addressed the entire circle of survivors, its voice booming with a sudden, commanding urgency.
"Come then. All of you, come and run me through. Let the little banished light gather her flame until it is enough to burn me. I cannot hold myself back any longer—"
A harrowing, otherworldly scream tore through the ruins as the Saint charged. The thread of its sanity had finally snapped. The madness surged through it like a tide of black ink, and it shrieked a final, desperate plea.
"BURN ME TO ASH!!"
Gunlaug and Caster dashed forward, followed by the Spire Messenger and the Cerberus. The four converged on the Anointed Legionnaire, hoping to force it down or disarm it. The Legionnaire's arms were already little more than mangled, weeping flesh.
From the flanks, Gemma and Sid joined the fray. Sid's dormant ability flared as she prepared her strike, and Gemma — one of the few capable of weathering a Saint's direct attack — plunged into the storm.
Gunlaug let out a roar that tore at his throat.
"Remember, our weapon is time!"
Gunlaug's verdant axe caught the dim light of the ruins. Caster's jade jian shot forward in a perfect, lethal arc. Sid unleashed a devastating blow, her sword glowing with the power of her activated dormant ability. Gemma's spear extended like a silver line of light.
From the side, Seishan's malice coiled into four spinning spears of blood that shrieked toward the Saint's back.
The Legionnaire met the onslaught with a fierce, instinctive defense. It simple-mindedly took the hits it couldn't deflect. Recognizing the flowing malice of Seishan as the most dangerous threat, it spun, kicking the force away and swinging the aspergillum to keep the others at bay.
This opening allowed the Sleepers to descend. Gunlaug rushed in, his axe clashing against the Saint's waist. The crimson bandages provided a thin layer of protection, but the steel still drew a significant flow of dark blood.
Sid's blade, empowered by her dormant ability, slashed a deep line from the Saint's shoulder to its leg. The enchanted steel ripped through the remaining bandages, carving deeper into the Transcendent flesh than Gunlaug's heavy axes had managed.
Gunlaug and Sid dashed back as Gemma's spear found the opening. The silver point plunged through the Legionnaire's chest, the tip emerging from the center of its back. Caster used a nearby tree as a spring, blurring past the Saint with his aspect fully unleashed.
He struck twice, then four times, using the environment to reset his momentum. He was forced to halt as the strain of his flaw began to catch up with him, his movements slowing as the battle at the Bright Castle had already pushed him to his limits.
The Legionnaire staggered. Its left arm had been hacked away in the chaos, and it was bleeding profusely from a dozen major ruptures.
Its vitality was finally touching the precipice.
In that moment, the creature looked up. It saw a white star rising in the darkness.
In the distance, Nephis stood in a rigid, battle-ready stance, her sword pointed directly toward her foe.
The witnesses were forced to shield their eyes. She was far too bright, a beacon of incandescent white that seared the air. Her eyes were twin suns of pure radiance. Within her Soul Sea, all three soul cores burned with such intensity that the very waters of her spirit were beginning to evaporate.
She was consuming her own soul, inviting damage that might never heal, but the price was paid gladly. The defiled Saint looked at her and smiled.
"Ah… I see. You've created the spark."
The end was near. The Banished Light was calling the warrior home.
—
Prior to the final charge, Nephis had been kneeling in the dirt, her mind a whirlwind of frantic calculation.
Everything had been centered on a single, desperate question.
'How can I kill a Disaster?'
The Legionnaire had insisted she possessed the means to burn him away. He believed her soul was vast enough and her will was sufficient. Yet, she had been missing the catalyst.
But what was it? What spark did she need?
Was her grief holding her back? Because if it was, it wasn't something she could let go of.
Was her hesitation holding her back? The notion was laughable. Her opponent was a defiled Saint, a human tiered three Ranks above her own, possessing a depth of experience that dwarfed any living Saint of humanity.
It was a pitiful sight; they only held the advantage because the creature was sabotaging its own strikes, walking into fatal reaches and inviting every arrow.
But as she watched the carnage, Nephis felt a weight dragging her down. It took a long time to identify that leaden anchor, a thing every living creature was supposed to possess.
It was fear.
She was afraid of failure. She was afraid of dying and having achieved nothing. She was afraid of the terrifying possibility that she was right —that she was the sole cause for the deaths of her cherished ones, the one who had led them into the jaws of death.
The moment the realization surfaced, she laughed. It was a harsh, private sound that escaped even as her soul began to burn. Having identified the weight of that instinctual terror, Nephis reached for an old ally to crush it.
She reached for her hatred.
She did not need a grand, new epiphany to build her character. She simply needed to remember why she was here. Her hatred for the world and the damned Nightmare Spell. Her hatred for Anvil and Asterion, and the complicated, roiling feelings she held for Ki Song. Most of all, her hatred for the Spell itself, which had, through countless threads of fate, stripped everything from her.
With the aid of her desire, the invisible chains holding her back snapped one by one. She was free enough.
She recalled the last time she had used her malice in such a way, back in the Dark Sea with Sunny and Cassie. A Leviathan of the Deep had stretched it's tendrils from the deep Sea, a Fallen Titan or a Corrupted abomination that threatened to swallow them whole.
What had saved her then? Her hatred had manifested as a conflagration.
She had burned with her entire soul, a light so blinding it had illuminated the black waters and forced the Leviathan to release her, its mind ravaged by the sheer agony of her flame. Even then, she had maintained enough power to mend her broken body.
Looking at the Disaster now, she froze for a heartbeat.
Then, acting as her own catalyst, she set her soul ablaze.
'Ah… I think I found it.'
Her desire to protect those she cherished was more powerful than her hunger for revenge. The fear of losing her companions outweighed the fear of losing her own life. Resolve for others was always a deeper well than resolve for the self.
In this moment, she did not fear death. She only feared failing those who stood beside her.
She would not let it happen again. Even her grief was transformed into fuel for the coming strike.
'Cassie… Sunny…'
"Forgive me for… failing you both…"
She offered the selfish request to the wind, caring little for a reply. In her mind's eye, she saw them both standing at her side within her Soul Sea, a world of white flames.
Above her, the three Soul Cores were beginning to crack, the intensity of the heat consuming her Soul Fragments as she built toward a fourth core.
'I won't fail those around me. Even if I have to give my life, I won't fail them a second time.'
Her killing intent rose as her mind was cleansed by the fire. She entered a state of perfect combat clarity, her wildly beating heart finding a steady, calm rhythm.
She drew her hands back, leveling her blade in a rigid point toward the Saint. Every augmentation and every sacrificed fragment was funneled into the Transcendent Memory.
'If this is where I die, so be it. At least no one else will…'
Her skin began to subtly singe under the heat of her own essence, yet her eyes remained focused. The ground beneath her cracked and scorched. The air became a suffocating vacuum of heat, yet she drew breath without effort.
'I wonder… when Cassie left… did she feel the same way I do now?'
Her blade became a sun. It was a light meant to show the defiled Legionnaire the path to peace.
She was the Star of Ruin. The Star destined to bring cataclysmic change — sometimes cruel and calamitous, always wreathed in misfortune — but destined to bring both salvation and damnation to anything touched by her light.
—
He couldn't remember much anymore. In his current state, the fragments of his identity were slipping away, though he managed to clutch a few minor things that any man ought to hold.
Yet they were insignificant compared to the memories he truly wanted to keep.
The most vital parts of his past were twisted by the infection, tainted by the very touch of the abyss. They were things he had lost during his fall, things he had hoped to never worry about again once he allowed himself to be sealed away in the dark.
He was the protector of his kingdom, after all. Or… he thinks he was?
The threads of identity were fraying, difficult to grasp in the shifting currents of his mind. But he held fast to a few certainties. He had been called back. Something had cracked; the seal was broken. A surge of heavy divinity had summoned him forth from the long night.
When he opened his eyes, the world had been hollowed out. There were no more lush forests or singing rivers, no fields stretching toward a horizon filled with silver stars. Instead, he looked up into a starless void. It was a black and red tapestry of ruin. He and his brothers had emerged from their holy ground into a nightmare of debris.
But a piece of the puzzle was missing. Why had he started slaying his own?
'Oh...'
He did it because they were Corrupted. Every one of them was tainted by the same infection that lived in his own soul. The realization must have struck them all at once.
A thousand mad Transcendents could not be permitted to wander this new age, to slaughter whatever settlements or ruling bodies remained.
Their honor demanded the removal of the threat. And they… they were the threat.
He lost track of time after that. He became a ghost in the ruins, hunting the strong. He recalled slaying a Corrupted Tyrant, an ordeal that had nearly emptied his reservoir of strength. He had quickly understood the nature of his king's seal; he could not regenerate his soul essence.
That was acceptable. His goal was to find a worthy grave, after all.
He had faced three Fallens at once another time — a Tyrant, a Terror, and another Tyrant — sure that his brothers were doing the same elsewhere. But eventually, he caught the scent of a soul he recognized.
He pursued the soul trail of his prince, trailing the essence to a great hill where a castle should have stood. He found only devastation though, a gaping hole where a grand history had been erased, and he moved on.
His mind continued to erode. He knew it was nearly gone when he found himself fighting… children?
He was bewildered. How had he fallen so far? Why were these small, desperate lives facing a Transcendent? They were barely Awakened — all were even below that rank, a level of weakness he hadn't known was possible.
Yet the madness compelled him. It overrode his will, forcing his hand. The least he could do was drop the intent behind his blows, dragging his feet in the dirt, but it did not save them all.
He felt a deep, biting shame.
That shame lasted until he saw her. The one with the potential to end his long vigil.
'Who is the one that possesses the Blood of the Sun?'
This girl with the white hair and the distant, familiar presence. She bore the traces of a Nephilim, a creature of horror.
She carried the same heritage his King once held. It was for that reason alone that he trusted her to act as his executioner. But her flame had been small, her spirit potent but lacking the necessary spark.
She was insufficient. Even with the one who possessed Blood of the Moon at her side, she could not reach him. He had faced a hundred and fifty of these children, allowing them to inflict grievous injuries upon his body, for he knew they couldn't possibly slay a Transcendent through merit alone.
But this age was different. They were more tenacious than he expected.
He opened his guard, laughing as the pain erupted in a symphony of stabs and slashes. He took every blow. And now, he was here, anchored to the earth on his knees, smiling at the brilliance before him.
'Ah… finally, she has set herself aflame.'
The Nephilim had regained her fire. He felt a surge of joy for her, the pride of a veteran watching a student realize their potential. It was the best moment he could remember — perhaps the only good moment in a thousand years.
'Oh… that flame… thank you. That was what my name was?'
The searing heat, so similar to the King's own light, acted as a key. It unlocked his purpose and the reason he had first joined the Legion of Constellia.
"I am…"
The white flame surged toward him. The girl was approaching, screaming with a force that surely burned her own throat. Her soul was incandescent.
It was finally enough.
"My name is…?"
'My King. My Queen. My Prince and Princess. My brothers of the Anointed and my sisters of the Church, forgive me. Fate was not kind to us…'
"My…"
As Nephis's flaming Transcendent blade neared his chest, the Legionnaire laughed. He threw his arms wide, the force of his joy ripping the remaining crimson bandages from his torso.
"My name! That's what it was! My name is Alexander!"
The name meant 'Protector of Mankind.'
It was a fitting name for a man who had stood true to his code until the very end.
He smiled as he felt the white blazing flame pierce through his armor and into his heart. He wasn't sure what he said afterward, nor what waited in the night beyond.
He only knew he was proud. He was proud of the girl who had finally found her fire.
—
It happened in an instant.
Seishan's Flowing Malice surged, the colossal blood claws coiling into a jagged dome that shielded the leaders of Sleepers. Caster, Effie, Gunlaug, Sid, and Gemma were pulled into the crimson sanctuary just as the world began to white out.
Every other Sleeper in the vicinity sensed the coming cataclysm and scrambled for safety. They dove behind petrified trunks and pressed themselves into the cold stone of the nearby ruins, seeking any shelter against the impending storm.
At the epicenter of it all, Nephis roared.
She drove her blazing Transcendent Memory forward, the edge sinking deep into the Legionnaire's heart as the name 'Alexander' punctuated the air.
Just as it had been with the Leviathan, she coiled every fragment of her essence, every spark of her hatred and desire, and… let go.
A blinding white radiance erupted, tearing through the Saint's chest in a fixed, lethal line and reducing everything in its path to ash. Where the blade had found its mark, the air itself was scorched.
Alexander's heart was blown into non-existence. The beam was a surgical strike of incandescent fury, piercing so far into the distance that the scorch mark could be seen numerous of meters away from its origin.
Silence followed the light. It was a vacuum of sound, absolute and suffocating.
Nephis heard… nothing. Her ears were ringing with a pitch so high it felt like glass breaking against her brain. A warm, sluggish liquid began to run from her eyes, her nostrils, and her ears. She felt a heat that was not born of her aspect, but of the natural, scorched reality of the clearing.
Through a blur of red and white, she looked down at herself. Her skin was a map of charred ruins. Her hands, once the color of alabaster, were blackened by the thermal backlash.
She remained standing. It took every ounce of her remaining will to lean on her sword and not collapse into the soot.
Shadows shifted at the edge of her vision. She felt a firm, familiar grip on her side. She couldn't turn her head, but she recognized the touch quickly. It was Seishan.
Several silhouettes converged around her — the survivors of the inner circle. She saw Effie, Caster, Gemma, Gunlaug, and Sid. They were moving their mouths, their faces contorted in shouts she couldn't hear.
Eventually, they stopped, their attention snapping toward a louder, commanding voice.
She would have chuckled if her lungs didn't feel like they were full of embers. Seishan was likely dressing them down with a vitriol that needed no sound to be understood.
'Need… to… heal…'
She reached for the Blessing of her Flame. It was a cruel irony, invited by the nature of her heritage, but she knew she could mend the physical body. The damage dealt to her soul, however, would be a much slower recovery. She accepted the price happily.
'I've… burned away… the blight?'
The Crimson Blight was gone. The lingering infection of the West had been purged by the sheer intensity of her profaned flames. She realized that the corruption must have been scorched out of existence the moment her soul set itself ablaze.
The last time she had done this, she had been a drowning animal, driven by primal terror beneath the Dark Sea.
This time, there was only clarity. Every action had been on purpose.
It felt liberating. It felt… free.
Her perspective shifted. She felt her body being moved, her weight supported by someone's back — no, someone's entire body. Her head rested against a soft warmth.
Seishan was positioning her, turning her toward a specific point in the clearing.
By then, the healing had begun. She endured the agony of her flaw, which seemed strangely diminished in the wake of such a significant release. Her vision cleared. Seishan was pouring cool water over her face, washing away the blood so she could finally see.
Nephis's eyes fluttered open as she leaned against Seishan, her mind struggling to pierce the veil of exhaustion and comprehend the sight before her.
Suffice to say, she was more than a little dumbfounded.
Before her, the Legionnaire was standing.
He was not yet dead.
A scorched, gaping hole existed where its heart should have been, a jagged window into a hollowed chest. His left arm was missing entirely, and numerous smaller punctures riddled his body alongside a dozen deep slashes and jagged gashes.
It was a terrible sight, yet a proud one. The Saint remained on its feet, anchored by a sheer, transcendent will; it was clear he would greet death while still standing.
Nephis felt Seishan shaking her, the movement jarring her scorched ribs.
'Why… can't I rest now?'
The battle was over. The Legionnaire was a walking corpse, his end a matter of seconds. What could possibly demand her attention at such a cost?
Then, the high-pitched ringing in her ears began to fade. Her internal flame mended the delicate signals of her auditory nerves, and the world began to bleed back into her consciousness in a discordant rush of sound.
"—He's tal—"
'Huh?'
"The Legionnaire is talking to you!"
'...Come again?'
Nephis blinked, the haze in her vision clearing as Seishan's trembling voice became distinct.
"The Legionnaire… is speaking directly to you, sister..."
Nephis shifted her gaze, tracking the Legionnaire's movements. She saw his mouth move, but the initial words were lost to the wind.
The Saint's remaining hand rose, fingers fumbling with the edges of its cracked visor. With a slow, agonizing effort, it pried the helmet from its head. A sudden gush of blood splashed against the dirt as the metal was discarded, finally revealing the face of her opponent.
Black veins webbed across his skin in a dark map of corruption, yet the underlying features remained strikingly handsome. He possessed the refined splendor and unnatural beauty inherent to any Saint. The white sclera of his eyes had turned a bottomless, ink-black, making it impossible to discern his pupils, but his hair remained a shock of matted, dirty blond.
The Legionnaire took a heavy, rattling breath, followed by a short, dry chuckle.
"Well done, child of the Sun. You have felled me, that is to be sure."
Nephis felt an odd, surging warmth at his words. It was a difficult feeling to process in the wake of such a slaughter.
An army of Sleepers had done the impossible; they had brought down a Saint. But the grandest, most terrifying realization was that she had been the one to deliver the decisive, final blow.
That final blow decided the fate of the battle.
There was no shame in the outcome; an Awakened three Ranks above her lay dying at her feet. Though the victory was paved with circumstance — created by a man who had more in common with a ghost than a Saint — it was a feat that demanded pride.
Nephis offered a faint smile from the cradle of Seishan's arms. She tried to lift a scorched hand, only to find her muscles unresponsive, and her voice failed her as she attempted to speak. Only a broken, breathless sequence of syllables managed to escape her lips.
"A—Alex... an... der..."
The Legionnaire's gaze softened with a flicker of sorrow, but his smile remained.
"Yes. That is my name. I am glad it reached you — I feared my voice had grown too hollow for the task."
Nephis let out a soft, rattling chuckle. Around her, the Sleepers stood in a state of absolute astonishment, their weapons lowered. Caster was the first to bridge the silence, his voice urgent and strained.
"You... you remain yourself? Even after the Corruption has taken hold?"
Alexander shook his head slowly, the metal of his gorget rasping.
"No. The man I was is a distant memory. Perhaps I am merely a tethered imitation, a shadow of a former self. Corruption is a fundamental shift in one's nature; I truly died the moment the infection took root."
He raised a single, mangled hand, a gesture of authority that froze the survivors in their tracks.
"I cannot linger much longer. It is only through my will that the realm of the dead hasn't claimed my shadow, but the pull is inevitable."
Seishan looked up at him, her expression a mix of lingering dread and confusion.
"Then what is it you are waiting for?"
Alexander looked at his remaining arm, tracing the frayed edges of the crimson bandages.
"I find myself in a peculiar position. I am dying, yet I harbor a reluctance to depart without upholding my principles. I do not wish to leave this world while my brothers still wander it in madness."
Everyone recoiled as the crimson bandages on his hand suddenly pulsed with white, intricate runes. He clenched his fingers, and red essence began to dance across his palm like a captured star.
"It is a tragedy that I will never hear your tales. I truly wish to know how you — humans lower than Awakened — found your way into this graveyard. I wish to know how Constellia finally fell."
Gunlaug shook his head, his face grimed with soot.
"We cannot tell you, Saint. In truth, we are currently fighting the very nightmares your kingdom left behind."
Alexander let out a tired sigh.
"I… I had suspected as much. I do not know why the seals were broken, but it was a grave error. I offer my apologies on behalf of King Regulus and my Queen... though I find I can no longer recall her name. A shame."
A sharp, white crack suddenly spider-webbed across his body. Beneath him, his shadow began to distort, flickering like a dying signal.
The Saint staggered, dropping heavily to one knee.
"Ah... Shadow God calls. My leader's gift can no longer endure the pull. There is no time left; I must finish this."
He pointed his hand toward Nephis, the crimson bandages beginning to unspool and flow through the air, guided by the white light of the runes.
"You, Nephilim. Tell me your name. I wish to carry the name of my executioner into the endless Night."
Seishan answered for her, her voice clear and respectful.
"Her name is Nephis, exalted Saint."
Alexander's eyes brightened.
"'Nephis'.. I see. A fitting name. I find it curious that you call me a Saint, but perhaps it is appropriate. Tell me — is she capable of perceiving her own Soul Sea?"
The leaders of the Sleepers nodded in unison. Caster looked puzzled by the question.
"Of course. It is an innate ability we all possess."
Alexander blinked, his face rattling with a breath of surprise.
"Innate? How strange. The Awakened of this age are quite remarkable, it seems. Then I can go forward."
He turned his focus back to Seishan.
"Great Awakened, tilt her head up. Let her look at me."
Seishan complied, and Nephis found herself staring directly into the ravaged face of the Legionnaire.
"Stretch forward her hand," Alexander commanded.
Seishan hesitated, her grip tightening on Nephis.
"What is it that you wish to do?"
The Saint smiled, a look of pure, unburdened joy.
"Did you not hear me? I wish for rest, but I cannot dwell in death while my brothers still walk this land. I am manifesting an echo of my strength for her. This way, I may face them on this ruined field once more, through her hand."
The inner circle froze. Shock washed over their faces, leaving them utterly speechless.
"WHAT?!"
The exclamation erupted from the surrounding Sleepers. Alexander paid the noise no mind. His body was crumbling into ash, and his shadow had become a jagged, static-like blur on the stone.
Seishan let out a long, shaky breath and lifted Nephis's blackened hand.
"You, Nephilim, who can bring down a Transcendent," Alexander's voice was fading, becoming a ghostly echo. "When you find yourself at war with the remnants of Constellia, do not hesitate. Call upon me. Use my strength as you see fit. Do not fall in this hollow realm."
He looked up at the starless sky one last time.
"Reach your home, wherever it may be. My kingdom was meant to be at rest. Do not join us yet."
His body began to dissolve. The crimson bandages, imbued with the glowing white runes, shot forward and wrapped themselves tightly around Nephis's arm.
"It would be a tragedy for one such as you to perish. All of you... were..."
Alexander's body shattered into a spray of shadow motes. His shadow on the ground simply vanished, leaving only his final word to hang in the air like a Blessing.
"Magnificent…"
The word marked the limit of Nephis's consciousness. Her eyes slipped shut, and she fell limp in Seishan's arms. No one was worried though; they could see the flames of her soul were already mending the worst of the damage.
Seishan stood, lifting Nephis as if she were a precious relic. No one spoke; the exhaustion was too deep for words.
They began the slow trek back toward the army of Sleepers and the debris-choked entrance of the catacombs.
As they moved, the crimson bandages around Nephis's right arm faded into her skin. The white runes sank beneath her scorched flesh and vanished.
Within the silence of her mind, the Spell spoke.
[You have slain a Corrupted Beast, Alexander of the Anointed Legion.]
[Your Soul shines Brighter!]
A final chime echoed in the void of her consciousness.
[You have received an Echo: Alexander of the Anointed Legion.]