Retreat!

“No! My ring! My hand!”

Charles clutched his bleeding stump, collapsing to the ground with a piglike wail.

His face contorted in pain and disbelief, eyes wide with sheer horror.

Vivian moved to strike again—but a chilling instinct prickled down her neck.

She twisted aside, rolling to the left just as a blinding arc of light carved through the air where she’d stood.

A sharp hiss followed.

The [Sword of Dawn] had passed through the space she had occupied a heartbeat earlier.

Had she hesitated even a fraction, her head would have parted cleanly from her shoulders.

Cracks spidered across the “angel’s” body.

The once flawless surface of her flesh flaked and split like brittle stone.

Without the ring’s power to sustain her, she was collapsing—yet to her final breath, she still sought to obey her master’s last command.

“Finish him!”

Vivian’s voice rang out, strained but resolute.

Even cornered and burned, she didn’t forget to give the order.

Molly and Sylvester’s instincts snapped into motion.

They lunged at once—wind and shadow surging toward the fallen Charles like twin storms.

“Ah—!”

But Charles still had relics to spare.

Holy light flared again across his body, manifesting several layers of radiant shields.

They shimmered desperately under the assault, far weaker than before, but still enough to stall for a breath.

Then came the crackle of breaking glass.

The shields shattered one after another under the onslaught of demonic fury.

A violent burst of blood filled the air as Charles’s body ruptured, swallowed by scarlet mist.

“Vivian! Time!”

“Gaaah!”

Sylvester’s roar and Molly’s panicked cry came almost in unison.

The tone alone told her all she needed to know—their window was closing.

“Go!”

Vivian shouted, her voice hoarse, dodging another residual swing of Lucia’s fading blade.

She risked a glance—Charles lay broken in halves, his body shredded by wind blades.

No living thing could have survived that.

That was enough.

The mission was complete.

It was time to leave.

At her command, Sylvester reacted instantly.

Darkness surged up from beneath their feet, coiling around Vivian—still clutching the severed hand—and Molly.

He poured every ounce of his remaining power into forcing open a rift in space.

But then—

A resounding hum vibrated through the entire city.

The divine Light Field that blanketed everything convulsed as though awakening from slumber.

The Holy Light Spire erupted back to life.

The brief lapse in its magic was already closing.

A crushing tide of sanctified pressure cascaded down—each wave heavier than a mountain.

The half-formed shadow portal shuddered violently, its edges warping, threatening to collapse entirely.

Worse still, from within the Radiant Court, a terrifying aura was approaching—furious, divine, and impossibly fast.

“Move!”

Sylvester’s eyes blazed crimson.

He bellowed, flames of life force erupting as he burned his very essence to stabilize the portal.

He seized Vivian and Molly in his shadows and hurled them through.

In the instant before they vanished, Vivian looked back one last time.

Charles lay sprawled in a pool of blood, his fate uncertain.

The “angel,” now devoid of power, stood motionless—hollow-eyed, cracking apart piece by piece into motes of dissolving light.

But just before her face disintegrated—Vivian could swear she saw Lucia’s lips curve into a faint, gentle smile.

At that same moment, a blazing golden figure appeared at the far end of the corridor, radiant and wrathful beyond measure.

Its light alone seemed enough to cleanse the world itself.

Then—all went dark.

The shadow portal sealed shut.

And the three Demon Lords, bleeding and broken, disappeared into the void—leaving behind chaos, fury, and a dying Saint Son.

The passage through shadow was agony.

When they finally stumbled from the warped abyss of the Shadow Realm half a day later, all three crashed into the ground with ragged breaths.

A wet gasp tore through the silence.

Sylvester vomited dark blood and collapsed.

“Syl! Are you alright?!”

“Grr… guh… gah…”

Vivian and Molly—somewhat recovered after hours of transit—rushed to his side, concern written across their faces.

“I… won’t die,” Sylvester rasped hoarsely.

“But I’ll… need to sleep… for a while…”

His eyelids grew heavy.

He sank slowly into the darkened soil, body melting into shadow, leaving only silence in his wake.

Because of his sacrifice, they were alive.

Even now, thinking back, Vivian’s heart trembled.

Had they been even a second slower, all three Demon Lords would’ve perished within the Radiant Court.

“Gaaah?”

Molly’s curious cry broke her thoughts.

Vivian looked down at what she still held—the severed hand of Charles.

Her gaze shifted naturally to the ring upon the finger.

The [Ring of Decree].

One of the [Rhine Ten Commandments]—a relic of the Holy Church.

Vivian drew a deep breath.

She stared at the ring, uncertain what to do next.

According to the game’s lore, this was a divine artifact of pure Holy Light.

To a demon, even touching it should have been lethal.

Yet… she felt no harm.

Her eyes softened, and for a moment, she reached into her cloak and withdrew the twin-winged ornament Lucia had once given her.

She held it in her palm beside the glowing ring, and suddenly, realization struck her.

If not for this charm… Lucia’s keepsake…

She might’ve died back then—from Lucia’s sword, no less.

But that strike, though mighty, had been strangely restrained—gentler, almost familiar.

‘Lucia… you…’

Vivian murmured under her breath, staring at the broken ring and the delicate ornament together.

Something fell into place within her heart.

“Gaaah?”

Molly chirped again, pointing at the ring with her claw.

Vivian hesitated for a long moment.

Then she exhaled slowly, gathering her composure.

She reached out with two fingers—

And gently touched the [Rhine Holy Ring].