“Are you serious, Seris?”

Ridigion spoke coldly.

“I put up with confining the Master without any explanation. But what did you just say?”

“…I said I’d cut you down. If you stay until the end.”

“Do you want to die?”

Clang.

The blade partially unsheathed from Ridigion’s scabbard.

Seris closed her eyes quietly.

“When did you become so pathetic? If you truly trusted the Master, you should have informed him and left the decision to him. But you come at me like this? If not for the rules of the 13th floor, I’d have challenged you to a life-and-death duel long ago.”

“This is my decision. As Niflheimr’s sub-master.”

“For the Master’s sake?”

Seris nodded.

Bang!

Ridigion sprang up from his seat.

“I’m done here. Do as you wish.”

Clank.

He stormed out of the conference room with the scabbard in hand.

“Uh… He seems really mad.”

“He always is, isn’t he? He’s like a barnacle.”

“Does this mean trouble? I’ll go try to persuade him.”

“It won’t work right now.”

Yurnet opened her fan.

“We need to give it time. He’ll understand our intentions eventually.”

“Intentions… I don’t quite get it.”

“Neither do I.”

Myuden scratched his cheek.

“Why do we go through such trouble? Can’t we just leave it be? The Master will handle it well enough. Pushing him like this is…”.

Thud!

“Ugh, it’s a crime to be weak.”

“No matter what, we must stop the Master from going to the first server. That’s our mission. I’ve explained it before…”

Seris continued.

“If he goes there, he’ll never return. Ever.”

“…Never.”

“Death would be a kinder fate.”

Yurnet lowered her head.

“I’ll talk to Ridigion.”

Seris also stood up from her chair.

She picked up Levatein, which had been resting against the wall and left the conference room.

A long corridor stretched before her. The heart of Niflheimr’s 13th floor, built solely for the master of Niflheimr, Loki.

‘No expectations.’

For being forgiven.

The end of a long journey.

Finally, she knew the truth of Möbius.

The reason for the destruction.

Why it was irreversible.

The identity of the ‘fragments’ and ‘corruption’ that simultaneously invaded a billion worlds.

The reason this place barely existed.

Emerging from the corridor, a grand hall came into view.

Beyond the magnificent scene was a curtain.

Behind it stood a throne of black marble.

‘A mirage.’

Illusions.

All meaningless.

That throne had become nothing more than trash.

[Are you okay, Seris?]

Beside her, Iselle appeared with a flame.

A fairy who had managed Niflheimr since ancient times and her companion through long years of wandering.

[You don’t look well. You should rest.]

“No.”

[…]

Iselle said nothing more and vanished.

Seris followed the trace of Ridigion’s presence.

Soon, a faint sound escaped her lips, slipping out as if it were a whisper.

“Han Israt.”

Once more.

“Loki.”

Finally.

“…Master.”

***

The Imperial Capital, Bardiya

There stood an ancient structure built solely for the emperor thousands of years ago.

Ragnasars Palace.

“Your Highness!”

An old knight in armor bowed before the man.

A man, wrapped in red bandages, sat cross-legged on the golden throne.

Clean blond hair peeked out from under the bandages on his head.

“The Holy Capital has fallen. Now, the rebels will soon storm this place. Please, give the order!”

“Pria has grown.”

“…Your Highness?”

“Leave it be. The next phase is beginning.”

“Pardon?”

“Oh, I suppose you don’t know.”

The old knight lowered his head until it made a loud thud on the marble floor.

“But, Your Highness, if no orders are given now…!”

“Leave. I have things to ponder.”

“Until Your Highness commands, I shall not step aside!”

“…Yes.”

The old knight, with a vacant stare, left the palace.

Left alone in the empty throne room,

The man was by himself.

Voices that had been whispering constantly inside his head.

The man closed his eyes.

“Stop being noisy. I’m thinking.”

“So loud.”

With a wave of his hand, the voices deep in his mind subsided.

He glanced around the throne room. The loyal subjects who once filled the space had long vacated it. The heads of the four great clans who once supported him had vanished without a trace. Only he remained.

“…Boring.”

He muttered with his chin resting on his hand.

“Hurry up and come. I’m dying of boredom.”