Chapter 37: End and Restart (3k)
A pitch-black cross and ashen mist danced together inside the church, explosions echoing in overlapping waves like twinkling stars in the dark void.
Time around them seemed to slow to a crawl; the Sun emblem atop the church rang out deafeningly beneath the blasts, its thin, brilliant sunlight flickering before it finally toppled under the force of the explosions and the erosion of the mist and cross.
The Sun emblem representing the Eternal Blazing Sun had fallen.
The flash of the explosions mingled with the sunlight, the glimmering rays like spotlights on a stage, and Ning Lu—standing beneath the slowly falling Sun emblem—was the sole actor in the spotlight.
For a moment, the Shepherd Pierre Berry's gaze turned terrified, then lost.
Every wisp of gray fog felt like a hand scrambling his senses, leaving him unable to tell direction; the inverted black cross glinting behind the Monster dredged up every sin and agony in his heart, dragging his soul ever deeper into the mire.
He had believed that, after devoting himself to that mighty being, he had seen every bloody and uncanny sight imaginable—yet what unfolded before him now surpassed his understanding; he felt himself on the verge of madness, as though gazing upon the most aberrant evil god in all the world.
—In truth, Pierre Berry's guess was correct. Symbolically, the power Ning Lu now wielded fused the Rose Bishop's flesh-magic with Sefirah Castle's mist; those two forces traced back to God Almighty's "Fall" and the Celestial Worthy's "mystery."
Before "Fall" and "mystery," even the Fate of the Circle of Inevitability sounded almost neutral.
In the next instant—time crawling for everyone—the Sun emblem that had hung high above the Eternal Blazing Sun's church crashed to the floor, shattering with a dull boom and scattering sparks of sunlight.
"—Your Sun has set." Ning Lu smiled, raising his scythe high.
A clean "swish" and Pierre Berry's head—eyes still hiding fear and bewilderment—soared up, rolled, and landed on the ground.
Blood sprayed sideways, drenching Lumian Lee's face as he rushed to Pierre's side. Lumian stared at the broken shards of sunlight on the floor, his expression dazed, thoughts unknown.
Even in death Pierre Berry's eyes stayed open, unable to fathom why a fog-shrouded humanoid Monster had crawled out of that harmless, foolish goose-girl's belly.
Ning Lu glanced at Ava, her chest and abdomen torn open, and lightly traced the wound with his scythe. Vein-like crimson lines flashed along the blade, and the gash writhed like living clay, knitting itself shut in moments.
Barely ten seconds later, apart from the pallor of blood loss, she bore no other wound—life still lingered in her.
Far off, Parish Priest Guillaume Bene showed no alarm at Pierre's death; he simply opened his near-translucent eyes and fixed them on Lumian and Ning Lu.
He wielded the power of Fate; if he could shift the rivers of their destiny to reach that place… his subordinate Pons Bene had appeared beside him, both glaring at Lumian with equal malice.
Meeting their gaze, Lumian bared his teeth in a grin, snatched a cleaver from the ground, and sprinted straight for them.
Blood and his own ferocious grin smeared together until Lumian looked like a fiend straight out of hell.
Yet, seeing the Parish Priest's gaze, Ning Lu wore only a calm, mocking smile, while the Celestial Worthy in his ear laughed in delight, as though watching a farce beyond expectation.
"On this point he has surpassed the Circle of Inevitability," the Celestial Worthy said cheerfully.
Both he and He were witnessing, for the first time, someone reckless enough to try shifting the river of a destiny beacon's destiny.
Ning Lu softly uttered an explosive syllable:
"Bang!"
The moment those words left Ning Lu's lips, thick gray surged across the Parish Priest's eyes like mottled paint, swelling his skull to two or three times its size, splitting bone and skin until his entire head became translucent and bluish-black.
Lumian started to twist away to kill the Parish Priest under Ning Lu's control, but searing pain—like countless worms gnawing his brain—exploded inside his skull.
Yet he didn't stop; blood-shot eyes wide, he smashed a desperate fist into the dying Parish Priest.
Guillaume Bene, the mastermind behind it all, had to die—now.
Across the room, Ning Lu watched Lumian share the backlash from the dream-figment and slowly withdrew the gray mist he'd poured into the Parish Priest's head, letting the skull shrink back to size.
But the stretched skin hung in crumpled folds, drifting down like an old man's sagging flesh, leaving the priest looking grotesque.
The horror lasted only an instant—Lumian's fist landed on Guillaume Bene's skull, Hunter force erupting, shattering fragile bone and flesh in a single blow.
When it was done, Lumian gasped for breath and burst into wild laughter.
"Godfather, I did it! That bastard Guillaume…"
But Lumian trailed off, seeing Ning Lu's calm gaze fixed behind him; slowly, he turned.
He turned—and saw his sister, Aurore.
Aurore, her eyes blood-red.
The sight jarred loose half-buried memories; pain lanced through Lumian's skull.
For a moment everything—this scene, the past days—felt unreal, as if viewed through frosted glass.
He had… seen this before.
He—had—seen—this—somewhere.
Lumian's face contorted in silent agony.
Then Ning Lu's voice rang out, steady as an anchor: "Don't worry. There's still a way."
"Don't worry. There's still a way."
Lumian lifted his head, clutching at the last shred of hope. "Godfather—please save Aurore!"
Like a drowning man seizing even the frailest straw, he begged.
Before he finished, Ning Lu pressed a hand to Aurore's head and spoke several alien words.
Something slammed into Lumian's mind; darkness swallowed him. He jerked awake, frantic and bewildered.
But seeing where he was, hesitation froze him; he opened his mouth, unsure what to do.
He was in his own room, cold light spilling through the window onto his face—and Ning Lu sat across from him in peculiar attire.
Lumian sprang up. "Godfather—my sister—"
"See for yourself. Aurore is alive."
Ning Lu spoke calmly as Lumian bolted for the stairs. "…but be ready."
"…but be ready."
Ready for what? The words echoed, but Lumian's mind was full of Aurore as he rushed downstairs.
"Aurore! Sis, what happened? Did Mr. Ning Lu save us…"
"Aurore! Sis, what happened? Did Mr. Ning Lu save us…"
Ning Lu heard the frantic shout, then a puzzled female voice: "Ning Lu?"
"Ning Lu?"
"…Who's Ning Lu?"
The warm wind through the open window felt like blades against Lumian's flesh as he stared at his bewildered sister.
The wind flipped the wall calendar noisily.
The number 29 leapt out at him.
29 March 1358.
The day when nothing had yet begun.