Blank’s eerie laughter echoed through the corridor as he gripped his own fingers, tearing them free of his hand with a brutal crack. Dark ichor and twisting sinew morphed grotesquely into a flurry of knives. Each blade gleamed with lethal promise as he flung them toward Medusa. A roiling mass of black mist surged up around her in swift defense, shrugging off the deadly projectiles in a hiss of oily smoke.
“You bastard!” Medusa snarled, desperation edging her voice. “I thought we had a deal—why are you doing this now?”
Blank merely chuckled, his eyes dancing with cruel amusement beneath his plague doctor mask. “We did, my dear,” he replied, launching another volley of knives, “but it seems you’ve outlived your usefulness.”
Medusa gritted her teeth, fury fueling her next barrage. She conjured writhing vipers from the very air, the black mist coalescing into sinuous serpentine shapes that lunged at Blank. Yet her anger only intensified his mocking sneer.
“Truly, what a horrible mother you are,” Blank taunted, sidestepping her attacking snakes with lazy grace. “Abandoning your children for so long—”
“You know nothing!” Medusa spat, thrusting her hands forward to unleash larger, more vicious serpents. Their hiss reverberated along the cold stone walls. “I had no choice! It wasn’t safe for them—I did what I had to!”
Blank dodged another onslaught, flickers of black mist swirling at his feet. “Always the same excuse,” he drawled. “You used that Timekeeper’s Eye and froze your infant twins for a hundred years, didn’t you? And now the world has ‘rewarded’ them with godsouls of time and space. Pity you never expected them to awaken that kind of power.”
A flash of sorrow and rage crossed Medusa’s features. “Humanity wanted us dead,” she rasped, voice trembling with old bitterness. “They killed my husband—did you think they’d spare me or my children?” Another wave of serpents rushed toward Blank, each set of fangs dripping with lethal intent.
Blank laughed, the sound grating in the torchlit gloom. “Ah, so your grand solution was to hide like a coward, letting them sleep in that frozen oblivion. A shame, really.” With a wet snap, he tore off part of his own arm, molding the twisted flesh into a gleaming scythe. “Frankly,” he added, “your title of ‘Black Witch’ is a joke.”
Snarling at Blank’s mockery, Medusa channeled every shred of resolve into the roiling black mist coiled around her feet. The swirling darkness thickened, surging up her ankles like malevolent vines. A sickening crunch reverberated through the air as the mist contorted into monstrous serpents, each as large as a wyvern. Their elongated jaws gaped in unholy howls that shook the ancient pillars overhead, causing debris and dust to rain down on the bleak corridor.
“A joke?” Medusa spat, her voice pulsing with raw fury. “What about you, you damned coward? You told me everything—I know how you pathetically hid away that night.”
Blank’s laughter bristled with contempt, the flickering torchlight casting unsettling shadows across his plague doctor mask. “So you’re comparing us? Perhaps, though I was a child that night,” he mused, casually slicing through a pair of raging serpents. Black mist sprayed as they dissolved into nothing. “However one of us matured, while the other is still stuck whining about the past.”
In a heartbeat, Blank closed in, his body seeming to bend the darkness around him. A wet snap accompanied the formation of a knife from his own flesh—he pressed it coldly against Medusa’s throat, his tone as calm as it was menacing.
“I’ll make you a deal, Black Witch,” Blank purred. “Tear out your own eye, and I’ll spare your precious children. I won’t strip them of their eyes or their godsouls. Satisfy that condition, and who knows—maybe you’ll live to regret it.”
Medusa’s face twisted with a mixture of rage and fear, knuckles whitening at her side. “Fine… you bastard.” Her words trembled, but the steel in her glare remained unbroken as she lifted trembling fingers toward her left eye.
Before she could act, Cyrus’s voice resounded, raw with alarm. “Mom, no!” he cried, unleashing a towering wall of ice that crashed into Blank, its impact ripping through his torso. For an instant, the corridor swirled with a blast of frozen shards. Yet, in the next breath, Blank’s injuries—his torn clothing and ravaged flesh—regenerated, knitting back together with a sickening squelch.
Blank’s eyes flicked toward Cyrus, a bored scowl behind his mask. “Jackpot, end this,” he commanded. “I’m sick of this nonsense.”
Off to the side, Jackpot—mid-duel with the others—huffed a disappointed sigh, as though forced to abandon a halfway entertaining task. He snapped his fingers. In an instant, coiling blue scales shot across the chamber, binding Noah, Ava, Lucy, Cynthia, and Cyrus where they stood. The scaled chains cinched tight, leaving them gasping for breath, pinned and immobile. Only Blank, Adam, Medusa, and Jackpot himself remained unrestrained.
“Now,” Blank repeated, gesturing at Medusa with an imperious wave, “do it. I’ve grown utterly tired of this melodrama.”
A frigid knot of dread lurked in Medusa’s gut, but she steeled herself, forcing her eye open wide. With a trembling hiss, she drove her nails into her own Demonic Eye. Agony tore through her, and she loosed a guttural scream that echoed off every cracked pillar. Black mist poured from the gaping wound, dripping in viscous droplets down her cheek as she yanked the eye from its socket. Her breath was ragged, Medusa held the dripping orb out toward Blank, her remaining eye radiating unbridled hatred.
“Good. Was that so difficult?” Blank murmured with a sneer. He lifted his mask just enough to reveal a wickedly curved grin. Without ceremony, he devoured the Demonic Eye, swallowing it in a chilling display of cruelty. A ripple of dark power coursed through his frame, the air itself seeming to recoil at his transformation as he claimed the Alchemist’s Eye for himself.
With his newfound power throbbing in his veins, Blank exhaled in a twisted approximation of satisfaction. Medusa slumped to her knees, seething in pain and horror. A viscous mixture of black mist and tears from the cavity where her eye had been, a macabre reminder of the sacrifice she’d just made.
A silence draped the hall, broken only by the hiss of black mist still swirling about. Then Blank let out a mirthless chuckle, directing his gaze across the battered heroes held fast by Jackpot’s scaled chains. His eyes glinted with triumph—and promises of further darkness yet to come.
“Jackpot, kill them all,” Blank ordered, his tone as indifferent as if he were announcing a minor chore.
“You bastard! You said you wouldn’t harm them!” Medusa snarled. She struggled to rise from the floor where she’d collapsed, black mist still oozing from her wounded eye-socket. Before she could fully push herself upright, Blank’s boot slammed into her side, forcing her back down with a ragged gasp.
“Did you really believe my promise?” Blank sneered, nudging her cheek with the toe of his boot. “After I’ve already stabbed you in the back once today, you’re the fool for trusting me a second time.” His laugh echoed with mocking derision.
Jackpot, standing nearby with his arms folded across his chest, let out a quiet sigh. “I recall,” he said firmly, “that we agreed I wouldn’t kill women or children. That includes her. And I’m not about to slice open a son in front of his mother, either.”
Blank shot him an annoyed glance, the flicker of his plague doctor mask hinting at frustration. “Adam, what about you?” he barked, exasperation leaking into his voice.
Adam stepped forward, gaze flicking uneasily between Blank and the battered heroes. “We agreed I wouldn’t have to kill anyone, sir,” he said, a note of tension beneath his calm tone.
Blank let out a long sigh, shaking his head in theatrical disappointment. “You two and your damned morals…” he murmured, rolling his eyes under the mask. “I respect your principles—truly I do—but they are so very tedious. Fine, I’ll do it myself.”
His right arm began to contort, flesh and bone distorting into a grotesque shape. A massive maw with fanged edges took form, dripping with a viscous black fluid. He brandished this monstrous extension, the jaws snapping in anticipation.
But before he could advance on the group, Jackpot reached out, catching Blank’s corrupted limb with a wreath of azure scales. He held it fast, his tone cold as steel. “I won’t budge on this, sir,” Jackpot warned, glaring beneath his partial mask. “I told you I wouldn’t kill them, and I won’t stand aside while you do.”
Blank clicked his tongue in irritation, but he relented with a dismissive wave of his free hand. “So be it,” he hissed, pulling his arm back. The monstrous maw shrank away, melding back into his flesh in a wet shudder. “You’re right—losing the trust of one of my Seven Sins wouldn’t be convenient. I can handle these nuisances any time.
“That reminds me,” he said, turning his attention to Adam with a rueful smirk. “Have you considered my offer properly? After this little stunt, I’d say you’re a wanted criminal anyway. Might as well join our flock.”
Adam inhaled deeply, his expression tight with resignation. “Fine,” he said quietly, “I’ll join the Crows. Just—let me see my daughter. That was the deal.”
A slow, mocking grin spread across Blank’s hidden features. “Good choice. I’ll call you Judge. The codename suits you.”
Just then, a ripple of distorted energy swept through the room, drawing every eye toward the chamber’s center. A tall, commanding figure materialized in a surge of crimson-hued aura. Long golden hair tumbled down his back, entwined with blood-red gems that caught the torchlight like congealed rubies. His sclerae were a bottomless red, irises a predatory gold that sparked with menace. Curved horns, each pulsing with a velvet aura, twisted from his temples, crowning him with an imposing, otherworldly grandeur. His extravagant attire—woven with chains, gems, and meticulous embroidery—shimmered like a star in the gloom.
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“Hello, mongrels.” The man’s voice rang with a disdainful lilt, his lips curling into a cruel smile. “I am Valor Crest, the Emperor.” He surveyed the disarray with dispassionate amusement, his gaze sweeping over the battered heroes, Medusa’s trembling form, and Blank’s looming figure. “What an intriguing cluster of insects we have here,” he mused, “all scurrying about for power. I suppose I’ll just have to crush a few.”
A hush fell, thick with anticipation and dread. Blank’s stance tensed ever so slightly, and even Medusa—pain lacing her every breath—forced her gaze upward, alarm widening her one good eye. Adam, newly named Judge, silently braced himself, while Jackpot exhaled slowly, steeling for whatever new horror the “Emperor” might unleash. Noah and his allies, still pinned by exhaustion and doubt, felt the churn of looming danger rise again.
“So the mighty Emperor has chosen to grace us with his presence,” Blank drawled, a thread of irritation bleeding through his otherwise steady tone. He sized up Valor Crest, the Emperor, with something close to disdain visible in the rigid set of his shoulders.
A derisive smirk curled Valor's lips, jewels glittering among his golden hair. “Kneel, all of you.”
In an instant, an overwhelming force wrenched every person in the throne room to the floor. They dropped to their knees in eerie unison, unable to command their own bodies—terror and anger flashing in their eyes. Medusa hissed through clenched teeth, while Jackpot, Adam, and the others wrestled silently against this intangible power. Even Blank's faint snarl suggested discomfort, though his mask concealed much of his fury.
Eyes roving through the group as though surveying prey, Valor rested his gaze on Noah. “You there. What’s your name?” he asked, his voice laced with confidence born of absolute power.
“My name… is Noah. Noah Fafnir,” Noah managed, struggling to lift his head under the crushing aura pinning him down.
“Oh, really?” Valor mused. “So you’re my great, great… whatever, grandson. How delightful. Your father truly named you after my dear son, hmm?” His grin widened, revealing the barest hint of fangs as he stepped closer to Noah. “So your family line is the only one that survived… quite the stroke of fortune.”
Before Noah could respond, the Emperor reached down and pulled Noah upright, folding him into a jarringly intimate hug. Shock froze the breath in Noah’s throat—his entire body flared with discomfort. The Emperor’s arms were like iron bands around him, each jewel on his lavish attire pressing coldly against Noah’s skin.
“So tell me…” Valor’s voice dropped to a near whisper, dangerously calm, “…where is that damn bastard, Lux?” He tightened his embrace, and Noah winced as the pressure on his ribs became agonizing.
“H-he couldn’t come,” Noah forced out, gasping with each syllable. “There’s a… barrier that stopped him from entering… ow!”
Valor let out a low hiss, his frustration seeping into the force of his grip. “How inconvenient,” he murmured. “I was looking forward to speaking with that… fucker about certain matters. It appears I’ll have to wait.” The slight curl of his lip suggested deep annoyance.
Noah could barely breathe, each inhalation turned ragged by Valor's crushing hold. “L-let me go…” he stuttered, voice strained.
With a dismissive scoff, Valor released him so abruptly that Noah nearly toppled back to his knees. “You live, for now,” the Emperor remarked coolly. “Family should be somewhat treasured, after all.”
Valor straightened, turning on his heel and bearing down on Blank, who still knelt under the Emperor’s inexorable will. “As for you…” he said softly, placing a glittering-booted foot atop Blank’s shoulder and pressing him into the ground. Blank bristled at the humiliation, muscles tensing beneath the weight.
“Where is the Man in White?” Valor demanded, leaning forward to increase the pressure. His horns shimmered in the torchlight, each pulse of aura hammering home his dominion. “He also has the information I require.”
Blank clenched his jaw. “The barrier blocks anyone who’s existed since the first apocalypse, doesn’t it?” he spat, a sneer twisting his words. “It’s obvious he wouldn’t be here.”
Valor’s golden eyes blazed in annoyance, foot grinding into Blank’s back. “Useless. Both of you.” His gaze flicked dangerously toward Medusa, who knelt nearby, her single eye glaring defiantly beneath her ragged hair. “Witch,” Valor called, “how do I remove this barrier?”
“I’ll tell you,” Medusa said, voice trembling with both hope and caution, “if you can guarantee my children and I are spared.” She stood there, battered and bleeding, one eye socket vacant, black mist still seeping from the gaping wound. Yet a glint of desperate resolve shone through her pain—this could be her only chance to bargain.
Valor Crest quirked a brow, his regal golden hair gleaming in torchlight. “A worthless mongrel daring to bargain with me?” he scoffed, a note of mocking admiration coloring his words. “Such audacity. I might’ve admired your spirit if I hadn’t helped murder that wretch of a husband you treasured.”
The barb struck Medusa like a knife to the heart, but she swallowed the wave of grief and fury. She forced herself to keep her composure. “Fine,” Valor conceded with a haughty sigh, “I’ll spare those hellspawn of yours. Just undo the damn barrier.”
Before Medusa could gather the power or speak the incantation necessary, Blank suddenly hurled himself upright, ignoring the pain flaring under Valor’s preassure. He tore off his own ears in a spray of crimson, twisting them into two warped, flesh-bladed swords that pulsed with grotesque energy. Then, with a savage snarl, he lunged at Valor.
The Emperor barely had time to react. Blank’s twin blades slashed across Valor’s arms, nearly severing them—flesh and sinew dangled by ragged threads, and the harsh stench of blood filled the air.
A wicked sneer flickered across Valor’s face, mingling pain with outrage. “You filthy mongrel,” he snarled, voice trembling with rage. “You dare lay a hand on me? Heal—heal now!”
The tattered edges of Valor’s arms knit themselves back together before the onlookers’ eyes, the demonic aura wrapping around his wounds in ghostly tendrils until they were restored. He looked upon his assailant with cold contempt. “Die,” he ordered, eyes flaring with lethal intent.
But Blank just stood there, chest heaving, unaffected by the Emperor’s command. Valor’s fury grew with each heartbeat. “I said die,” he hissed, jabbing a finger at Blank. “Die, die, die—”
Yet Blank only let out a derisive chuckle, brandishing his organic swords in a defiant stance. “I know your ability, Lord Valor,” he said, lips curling into a sadistic grin. “The Subjugator, that power which makes your every word a reality. But it works only if your target can hear you… And as you can see,” he murmured, gesturing to the glistening red ruin where his ears had been, “I’ve taken precautions.”
A cold shock rippled through the throne room, punctuated only by Valor’s ragged breathing. Fresh hatred filled the Emperor’s golden gaze, bright enough to illuminate every curved horn and jeweled tassel in the flickering light.
“You rabid dog,” Valor growled, trembling with wrath. “I’ll personally kill you for this.” The tension throbbed like a living creature—writhing black mist, crackling torches, and the metallic tang of blood forming an unholy backdrop to their explosive standoff.
Blank’s lips curled into a predatory smirk, eyes shining with malicious delight beneath his plague doctor mask. “Lucky for me,” he said, voice dripping with mock sympathy, “no one in this place will object to your demise. I intended to let you live a while longer—at least until I reached Sirius Blackwood—but circumstances have changed.”
From across the rubble-strewn throne room, Valor bristled, his golden horns aglow with suppressed fury. “And what does a wretch like you want with that bastard?” he demanded, each syllable crackling with barely contained wrath.
Blank stepped lightly across shattered stones, oblivious to the swirling tension. “I’m a realist,” he said with an infuriating shrug. “I’ve realized I alone cannot defeat the hero forever. That brat is bound to surpass me in time. Fate won't let me kill him yet, so I’ve decided to alter the balance of this world.” His chuckle filled the air, sinister as broken glass. “I’ll revive every apocalypse, with the backing of my Crows—each wing a potential disaster in its own right—until we become unstoppable.”
A derisive sneer tugged at Valor’s mouth. “Your overconfidence is nauseating.” He raised a hand, and swords rained down from above, each blade whistling through the air. “Sword Rain! I won’t let a scrap of your flesh remain, cur!”
Yet Blank twisted in effortless arcs, evading the lethal downpour. The glint of metal flickered across his mask as he glanced back, amusement dancing in his eyes. “Oh great Fourth Hero,” he taunted, “care to hear more of my grand design?”
Valor’s horns crackled with sparks of heat, flames licking at the edges of his regal attire. “Do tell me,” he retorted coldly, “if you can still talk while I burn you alive.” He flung out a hand, and fanged flames coiled around Blank, snapping at him like hungry vipers.
Blank let the heat wash over him, black mist swirling protectively at his feet. “Fragments—mementos of each apocalypse—lie scattered across the land,” he began, raising his voice above the roar of flames. “Dorothy’s soul slumbers within the World Tree. Randall’s soul sleeps in the depths of the Atlantis dungeon. We already possess Anastasia’s sword. As for Sirius…” he cast a mocking glance at Valor, “you were the one who sealed him away. We merely need to replicate your method in reverse.” He paused, letting a thin, humorless smile stretch across his mask.
“Rumors,” he continued, “suggest Silvia had a child somewhere in the world, and—" Blank’s gaze swept to Noah, his mocking grin deepening, "—Aria cursed the Fafnir family. Isabelle Fafnir, your precious sister, carries Aria’s reincarnated soul. We have her.”
A strangled noise tore from Noah’s throat. Rage and fear lit his eyes as he forced himself upright, raw pain tugging at every muscle. “That’s why you did it,” he growled, voice tight with fury. “You damn bastard!”
Blank shrugged as though unbothered by Noah’s outrage. “To be fair,” he remarked airily, “we only knew about your brother being Vanitas’s incarnation. Learning your sister was also one of the keys was quite the bonus surprise.”
“Of course, Vanitas will be the most difficult. Your dear brother is one of many fragments. Humanity was quite meticulous in disassembling him, isnt that right Medusa? Surely you remember how creuly they cut your husband apart and made him into magic items,” Blank taunted.
Blank stood amid the carnage, his tattered attire and battered body regenerated by his ability. His plague doctor mask glinted under the flickering torchlight, concealing whatever twisted expression he wore. With a mocking tilt of the head, he gestured to the two who still had the strength to stand—Noah and the Emperor—while the rest of the heroes lay bound or beaten on the cold, stained stones.
“Now please, both of you,” he said, voice echoing in the vaulted expanse of Medusa’s ruined throne room, “come at me. The rest of the fools are still on the ground.” A cruel, humorless laugh slid from his lips. “But here’s your golden opportunity, kill me here and now—stop so much suffering before it begins.”
He spread his arms wide, his flesh coalescing into writhing shapes as though hungry for a new assault. Somewhere behind him, Medusa hissed in agony and Valor’s aura pulsed with tension, but for a moment it felt as though Blank commanded the entire scene.
“Unlike the heroes,” he went on, his tone dripping with contempt, “we apocalypses don’t have any ‘destiny’ protecting us from dying too early.” His voice reverberated with an eerie confidence, the challenge clear. “So do it… if you can.”
The corridor fell silent except for the distant clatter of debris and the ragged breathing of the wounded. Torchlight, flickering and weak, traced harsh shadows on every pillar and fallen banner. In that suffocating hush, Blank’s invitation hung like a noose.