Ber’s sanity returned much later. An unknown amount of time had passed, and her mana had become small enough where her body returned to what it once was. Her recollections were messy, but she understood the general gist of things.

The Black Swan’s Unstable features disappeared in a burst of golden light. They retreated into her chest as she saw the devastation of their world.

Not a single building was left standing, and underneath them was a crater filled with blood. Black spears riddled the world, appearing like a forest of black, charred trees.

Frost no longer attacked her for an unknown reason. Just like before when the Blood of the Covenant retracted its tendrils, it did the same here. Frost floated atop this sea of blood; her body bare for the world to witness.

The only piece of cloth left on her were the ones that covered her eyes and mouth.

Blood of the Covenant | HP: 1

Ber floated above her, her wingbeats causing ripples to endlessly flow to the crater’s edge. She looked in all directions, searching for Ignis but found no one besides themselves in this bleak world.

“… are you happy, Frost?” Ber inadvertently spoke, blaming Frost for this, even though she knew that they had no say in this matter. “Is this what you wanted? Your version of bonds? All this blood means nothing if it ours that you’re going spill. The blood of the covenants don’t mean anything in an Atelier. Adventurers will do the same to save face outside of this place. I’ve seen it, Frost. Too many times.”

Ber was mentally defeated as she came down from the high of her Corruption. She knew that there was no other way to beat Frost.

“It’s unfair. One moment I thought I broke through all my chains, and the next I have one wrapped around my neck.”

Indeed. Ber didn’t see it earlier, but there was one last strand of cloth in this world. And it was the one that connected her with Frost, wrapped gently around her neck like a leash. Ber tried to sever it. To snip it with her claws but to no avail.

She realized that she was already enraptured by Frost’s spell.

And frankly speaking, there was no other way to end this.

Strangely enough, she wasn’t devoured immediately. She was given the time to think for herself, as well as to speak with a familiar blue prompt.

“So you have some sense to at least let me go out with some dignity and closures. Nav. What happens after I let Frost eat me.”

< It is unknown. But right now, the Archivist claims that her book, Cinder Civitas, won’t stop burning. She theorizes that maybe through this – >

This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

“– We get the last chapter? Some closure? Is this how it’s supposed to work? None of this really fitting into my head. Would be easier to just solve things with fists. But it’s because of this mindset that Frost is like that… Say, Nav. Was Ignis afraid of me? I lost myself there. So I want to know if did something to her.” Ber politely asked after holding back a claw meant to stab Frost.

Ber already knew the answer, and she could feel an instinctual urge to be eaten by Frost. Her heart never surrendered. The others never did and she knew it. She knew her sisters more than anyone. But it was the one, split second of vulnerability which has costed them their…

“… let’s hope this isn’t the end. Frost. You’d sacrifice yourself if it meant saving me. If I die here and you come back, then… tch. Nav… hurry up and answer me!”

< Ignis was afraid >

Nav didn’t lie to her.

But she wished Nav did.

Nav was a machine after all, unable to read between the lines. To bless Ber with one last comforting lie.

A single tear fell into the pool below, and the blood turned into water.

“I’m sorry…”

An opening in her heart formed, and Frost took the opportunity to finally devour her. The black spade gobbled her like a venus fly trap, forming a crystal that entombed a tiny Ignis and Ber, both locked in an eternally cold embrace.

< [False Spade] >

All three crystals were in Frost’s possession.

Aside from the green club, which had burned ever since the beginning. Frost sunk into the depths of the water, her face the last to descend as she uttered one last thing before the water turned pitch black.

< “Violence is all we’ll know, and all we’ll ever know… It would be better if...” >

These were spoken in Frost’s true voice. One without the distorted echoes.

She disappeared for good, the black liquid forming a colossal dome within the crater. The egg-shaped object pulsated as the darkness of the Isolation Sphere disappeared, revealing the outside world where the Advent of Desire still shone.

The light cascaded over the world. One would expect a flower, or life, or something to bud in this hell.

But nothing did.

The light only revealed nightmares one would wish the darkness forever kept.

There was no hope in this plain of desolation.

All aside from the egg.

***

Two figures suddenly approached the edge of the crater moments later.

“The usual scenery. I had hopes that Jury would be able to save them. Unfortunately, this is how it always used to end. Never as dramatically as this. As it turns out, the Faux Angel Act X warned me of was misleading. I suppose even the Sect of Gears can sabotage their interpretations.”

The White Wing spoke to a certain grey-haired Demon, glancing at her blackened arm.

“Are you sure you’ll be ok here?” She added. “Demons can’t heal with healing magic.”

Carpalis kindly smiled.

“I am aware. This hand that failed them will be put to the test again. With or without your concern. I’ve been complacent long enough. The Sectors are somewhat stable. Thanks to you. Why the change of heart?”

“Think of it as debt. I’ve said it to your friend Jury that I wish to make a good impression on the Amalgam. But as it turns out, there might be one more person I can make a good impression on.”

She gazed upon the Piece of the Fallen Star, smiling fondly before they returned to the heights of the black egg.

“Carpalis. I’ve told you about Faux Angles in the past, haven’t I? They’re made from the Advent of Wrath. Beings that seek the light. To make their wishes come true. That’s only half of it. Faux Angels – notably the most dangerous of them all – are born from the light they seek. I will ask you once more. Do you wish to stay?”

Carpalis took a step forward, her hand dangling like a burst sausage as she tenderly stared at the egg, as if able to see the sleeping Frost within.

And with a voice of motherly conviction, she uttered as she extended her Faustian Bargain –

– Her only hand left.

“I will do what I wish was done for me. No more. No less.”