Dusk.

The moment when the sun writhes in its final moments, dyeing the world in blood-red hues.

"The first time I met you... it was like this too, wasn't it?"

"Yeah."

Marcellus planted his sword into the ground. He was wounded, though only shallowly—not like Mei.

Her body was soaked in blood. Countless fatal wounds were already draining the last traces of life from her.

But Mei didn't care anymore. From the start, she had known—she never stood a chance in this fight.

"It's nostalgic. Back then, you were the one lying here, not me."

"Don't say that. I don't want to remember those days."

"Right. That past... not much glory in being played like a fool."

Mei coughed. Blood rose from her lungs to her nose and mouth, making her voice thicker with every word.

"Visionshaper... why didn't you use it?"

"...? Ah. Visionshaper."

One of the Sixteen Oaths, Visionshaper was said to rank among the most powerful in combat, capable of bending reality itself.
In a battle against someone like Marcellus, she should have used it. But she didn't. Or more precisely—she couldn't.

"I... abandoned it."

"Abandoned? You broke your Oath...?"

"Yeah. What's left is just the purple glow in these eyes. Pitiful, right?"

"...No. Not at all. Even if you've turned your back on the past."

Marcellus went quiet, then asked again—as if fearing this was his last chance to speak with her.

"Aren't you afraid to die?"

"Haha. Good question. Let's see... by the time death comes, I won't be around to feel it. So what's there to fear?"

"You're still... you."

They fell into silence. Only the sound of Mei's labored breathing and the bubbling of blood in her lungs filled the air.

"Your brother, Elliot... he's not dead."

"...?"

"Or at least... he came back to life."

"What are you saying—"

Something stirred inside Marcellus's mind.

"Could it be... the Shrine of the Drowned?"

When a person dies, the fragments of their soul—what little remains—project the last remnants of their will into a shapeless space. A void forged from their own memories. Eventually, everyone falls into the cycle of reincarnation.

Except one place.

People have long wondered: who told the stories of the Fragments of Self? And how were they known?

The answer came when the First Prophet of the Ministry returned from the land of the dead. And from that, the Shrine of the Drowned—a place defying the laws of the world—was revealed. Forged from the hearts of the greatest souls in history, it lies dormant in the mind of each person, waiting for one strong enough to summon it.
Of course, it carries a price.
But no one ever speaks of what happens within. Perhaps they simply can't.

"I'm not sure," Mei whispered.

"But word is... when the Ministry recovered Purple Cloud, they never found his body. Just a rumor, really."

Mei struggled to speak. She was fading fast. The sound of liquid in her chest grew louder with each breath.

"In my pouch... there's Eylis's Contract. Whoever holds it... can communicate... with the Voidmother..."

She pulled a scroll from inside her clothing and flung it to the ground. Finally, her eyes closed.

"This body of mine... it's yours now."

Marcellus said nothing.

"Come on, do it. I'd prefer it that way."

He raised his hand in silence. The bell on his belt gave a soft chime.

Suddenly, a cruel surge of energy spiraled in his palm. Beneath his feet, a deep red circle began to unfold. When it reached Mei, the energy twisted violently—consuming her life in its entirety, pulling it inward until nothing remained.

Marcellus clenched his hand and absorbed the energy. The little life left in Mei healed all the wounds she'd given him.

This was one of the many manifestations of Resonance. Each Resonance bore its own unique function. After all, the power that must be faced at the brink of death was never meant for decoration.

Moments later—or perhaps instantly—Setareh appeared.

"All done, huh? Are you badly hurt?"

Marcellus didn't look at her. He just asked quietly, as if not wanting to disrupt the silence.

"How long have you been here?"

"Since the moment you unsheathed that black sword."

He sighed. Setareh tilted her head and asked:

"So, what now? Gonna go find your brother? How would you even know where to start?"

Marcellus looked at where Mei had vanished—only the scroll tied with a red string remained. He walked over and picked it up while Setareh watched curiously.

"Doesn't matter. Every step—no matter how small—leaves a trace."