"Maybe if I had killed him that day," Gerard said, shaking his head, his voice heavy with regret, "everything would have been different. You're all just victims of the Four Pillars Cult... If you hadn't met him, your peaceful lives in prison wouldn't have unraveled."
He spat the name like venom.
"Ash Heath, the source of all calamity."
Ranna, standing amidst the swirling darkness of his summoned shadow beasts, replied calmly, "I don't shirk responsibility, nor do I believe I was manipulated."
On the contrary, he even sounded... grateful.
"If not for him—if not for this entire sequence of events—I wouldn't have completed my ritual. I wouldn't have gained feelings."
Ranna's voice grew more resolute.
"But in this, we do agree: He is undeniably charming. He creates a stage of unpredictable destiny that pulls people out of their mundane, shackled lives."
Ranna paused, almost reverently.
"Like wings, wouldn't you say? He gave us wings."
Gerard frowned, disinterested in the lunatic's rambling.
With a flick of his hand, moonlit chains lashed out, binding Ranna once again in their radiant, unyielding grasp.
"Congratulations on your newfound emotions," Gerard muttered, his voice cold as steel. "You'll have plenty of time to reflect and pray in the deepest pit of prison."
Ranna didn't resist. He merely chuckled.
"You're familiar with the nature of the Moonshadow Clan, aren't you? The moon's phases dictate our strength. On the 15th of every month, under the Blood Moon's full radiance, we are at our peak. And on the 1st, when the Blood Moon fades to a shadow, we are weakest."
Ranna's grin grew wider.
"As a traitor, a disgrace to the Moonshadow Clan, even the Blood Moon itself rejects me."
His voice turned fervent.
"But on nights like tonight, under the Shadow Moon, I become whole."
Ranna looked skyward, and Gerard instinctively followed his gaze.
Above them, clouds crept over the dim moonlight, plunging the battlefield into pitch-black darkness.
SNAP!
The radiant chains shattered like brittle glass.
From the abyss, shadows coalesced into a monstrous form—a towering, grotesque amalgamation of hatred, grief, and primal fury. The oppressive darkness seemed alive, seething with malice, as though countless wolves lurked in its depths, eyes glinting with predatory intent.
"Whoa," whispered the priestess, her wide eyes filled with awe. "That's... incredible."
Meanwhile, on the other side of the portal, Ash stumbled forward, supporting a pale and bleeding Igula.
"Make a wish already!" Ash barked, his tone strained from both exertion and annoyance. "I'm Ash Heath, the cult leader of the Four Pillars. I've already saved your life without forcing a slave contract on you. If you don't make a wish, don't blame me for being ruthless."
Igula, barely able to stand, still managed a weak chuckle.
"Go ahead, make me your slave. Need me to draft the contract? I'll give you an employee discount—20% off."
Ash's frustration boiled over. "You're unbelievable!"
When they had first entered the Void Portal, Ash had found Igula bleeding out. A stray sniper round had gouged a chunk of flesh from his shoulder, and Gerard's blood magic had left him incapacitated. Even after Ash used "Sever Me" to stabilize him, Igula could barely crawl.
Logic dictated that Ash should have left Igula behind—or finished him off. The "wish" Igula still held over him was a constant threat.
But leaving Igula felt... wrong.
Maybe it was paranoia. Maybe it was gratitude for Igula's vital role in their escape. Or maybe Ash just didn't have the stomach to kill someone who'd helped him so much, even if they were an infuriating manipulator.
Whatever the reason, Ash had decided to drag Igula along.
The portal's end loomed ahead, glowing faintly with swirling currents of chaotic energy.
"Finally," Ash breathed.
But Igula's voice cut through his relief, laced with teasing doubt.
"Are you sure this is the right way? Wouldn't it be funny if Gerard was on the other side, waiting for us with open arms?"
"Of course it's the right way!" Ash snapped—then faltered.
"...Probably. Maybe?"
The seeds of doubt sprouted in his mind. What if he'd gotten turned around while helping Igula?
Ash shook his head, trying to dispel the thought. "No, no way. This is the way out."
Summoning his courage, Ash pushed forward, half-carrying Igula into the unknown.
The first thing he noticed was the absence of the Blood Moon.
Instead, he saw a vast, lonely night sky... and a bright, paved road stretching into the distance.
Relief turned to dread as his footing disappeared.
Gravity yanked them downward.
Ash shouted, "Unfold your wings, now!"
Igula groaned in confusion. "What—?"
Before either could react, they hit the ground—or rather, a cage.
Ash groaned, shoving Igula off him to stand. His eyes adjusted to their dim surroundings, revealing familiar faces: Harvey lay unconscious nearby, and the air was thick with a strange, comforting aroma—a blend of sunlit sheets and home-cooked meals.
Before he could process the situation, his limbs grew heavy, his mind foggy.
A trap.
Ash struggled to summon his magic, muttering, "Sever Me..." But his spell fizzled as a shadowy figure stepped into view, framed by the bars of their cage.
Draped in violet robes, her voice was soft yet commanding.
"The Gospel predicted this. Three outsiders would cross the void tonight."
She turned to unseen allies.
"Bind them. Secure their magic with suppression collars. We leave immediately."
The last thing Ash saw before succumbing to the fog was the woman's silhouette fading into the darkness.
"Let this gift bring favor upon the Four Pillars."