[Storm Sacrifice]

Sacred Heart Hospital, in the silent plaza.

Extending an invisible hand, Saliba reached out and grasped the ripe fruits one by one. With a sharp twist, he made their sweet juices burst forth.

Ordinary people had been rendered unconscious without the slightest resistance the instant the border began to form. Under [Beelzebub]'s plague, the spiritual energy within their bodies became infected and warped, then was drawn out in thin strands.

Like a harvest, they offered up everything their lives had brewed.

Above them, blood-red threads rose into the sky, winding and twisting as they faintly outlined the shape of a colossal being.

After so many years, he was once again standing on the soil of the Manifest World with his own feet. Just the scent of that alluring fragrance nearly brought Saliba to tears.

Good. All those years of patience hadn't been for nothing. After so many years of painstaking cultivation, today was the day to reap the harvest. It was worth indulging himself.

For the first time, he had hope of ascending to become an Immortal, and he had obtained the key to the ritual. Two joys overlapped, and this double joy brought even more happiness. Saliba should have been enjoying a dreamlike, blissful life by now.

So why had things turned out like this? Why was he so irritated?

"Hey, I say, if you're going to make such a big show of things, why does it have to be me? I could introduce you to a distant relative of mine."

"And could you loosen your tentacles a little? They're making me kind of itchy. I'm worried I'll start laughing in a moment."

"You're going so big~, it's making me so scared~"

The anesthetic he'd just injected should have been enough to keep that kid from the Lancaster family unconscious until the ritual was complete. But in less than ten minutes, he had woken up as if nothing had happened. His mouth was like a reservoir with its gates open, pouring out an endless waterfall of fresh insults.

Wrapped tightly in a cocoon woven from blood-red threads, Horn used [Flame of Destiny] to clear the remaining anesthetic from his body while harassing Saliba from every angle, chattering away without pause.

He was perfectly recreating the speed at which he'd once protected his cybernetic parents in the Zaun District. He wasn't aiming to achieve anything; he just wanted to keep talking. If he could make Saliba frown, that counted as a success.

Maybe some miracle would happen?

At last, unable to bear the constant harassment, Saliba frowned and spared a sliver of his attention from his many urgent tasks. He gave a forceful wave of his hand. Above, the horrifying shape woven from writhing crimson threads abruptly swelled, covering all of Sacred Heart Hospital. The flood of blood swallowed Horn without warning, silencing him at last.

As if heaven and earth had turned upside down, he plunged toward the blood-red center.

He sank into a dream of [Innocent Tears].

The last thing he vaguely heard was a thunderous rumble.

[Fate Deflection--]

[Heart, sing out!]

In the underground ritual chamber, bathing in blood and swallowing it greedily without any regard for what his body could withstand, until crimson overflowed from every opening... Frank Mills had completely broken free of the Mark's shackles and undergone a rebirth.

A third hand and a third foot burst through his peeling skin, stretching freely, heedless of the tendons and fascia exposed to the air. Then came bones, muscles, nerves... Amid a pleasant tingling, Frank felt utterly renewed.

His ribs were pushed outward as a dark-red heart swelled in his chest, throbbing as if it would burst through his rib cage. What it brought was not vitality, but a ravenous appetite.

Following the principles of [Grail], he had shifted onto the path of Devour. Even though desire had twisted him into such an ugly form, Frank was still ecstatic.

Yes, this was right. This was the proper way. Eating and being eaten—there would always be a feast, and nothing would truly go to waste.

This way, everyone would be saved.

—In my belly.

And so, the long-awaited Blood Pool began to boil.

The crimson, born of the same source, eagerly spread upward and swallowed Frank Mills in a single gulp. He had only just ascended, and his power was on par with a Knower's—if anything, even more overwhelming. He was given no chance to resist.

Just like that, it fused with his consciousness, turning him into the central axis of the grand ritual.

He who devours others shall in turn be devoured.

[Fallen Heart], in place!

Next came [Restless Blood].

Sealed within a swaddling cloth woven of pink threads, the blood of a god pulsed ceaselessly, filled with joy.

It appeared for only a moment, yet thunder answered it, storms accompanied it, and tears fell from the sky. The smell of ozone lingered in the air. The domain, nearly frozen after being cut off by the border, began to flow again because of it, escaping the fate of falling into utter stillness.

Baal, Bael, Baal-Hadad, Lord Hadad.

The Jordan River flowed onward through Canaan's sandy wastes, passing from myth into legend, and from legend into history. The divine name changed, but the divine essence remained.

All were Hours of the [Heart], aspects of the [Vigilant Storm]!

The blood bearing their name was the most precious wonder in the [Restless Temple], once swallowed up by the [Blood Cup Cult]. It was also the stepping stone Saliba had been willing to betray the entire cult to obtain.

Now, standing atop the heaps of his companions' and enemies' bones, Saliba could no longer hold back. He seized his sole opportunity to leave the path of [Grail], whose future had been cut off, and turn to the path of [Heart], which still had room to spare.

Even the Sixth Mark couldn't satisfy his appetite. What Saliba truly wanted was to use this achievement to rise to the heavens in a single bound and become an [Immortal] who had reached the end of the path.

From then on, his life would know no bounds!

"We beseech the [Vigilant Storm], god who never rests, god who demands that all dance, god who is struck like a drum!"

"All of its symbols have been gathered here. Surely they will open the [Gate of Three Points] for me!"

With that proclamation, the ritual, [Storm Burnt Offering], began!

—If nothing went wrong.

"Crack—"

A slender hand pressed against the crimson domain. With the slightest pressure, the sound of shattering glass rang out abruptly.

The Land of Bleeding, Bone of Bone, Blood of Blood, the border known as [Blood Field], which Saliba had sealed away in layer upon layer of barriers, swung wide open at an irresistible command!

"Leave the ritual grounds anchoring the border to the Present Realm to you. If you find ordinary people caught up in this, contain the symptoms if the infection is still shallow. If they're beyond saving, deal with them on the spot. I'll double your pay. The Prevention and Suppression Bureau will cover all resulting losses."

"We can't afford to delay any longer, everyone. We're facing an Immortal in the process of forming."

Veronica gazed up at the enormous figure in the thunderous clouds, stretching its body freely as it gradually transformed. She gave these instructions to the others who had come with her.

"Leave this place to me."

She stepped forward. The golden-haired girl's figure blurred for a moment, then crossed the great distance to arrive before the hospital plaza. Facing the old man, she watched the wrinkles gradually vanish from his face and asked solemnly:

"Was it you who lured Frank Mills into this?"

"Now, why would you say that? He was the one who sought out our [Blood Cup Cult]. Otherwise, why would he have worked so hard to eliminate every possible interference?"

His surging vitality transformed into an impassioned heartbeat. His streaked hair darkened from the roots. Saliba straightened his tie and raised an eyebrow, answering breezily.

"You got here quickly. Really, faster than I expected. You threw my plans into disarray. Your very existence nearly made me give up. If not for an unexpected windfall, I really would have withdrawn from Birmingham."

He seemed to have become the young man who had just left the monastery, with the gates of the world generously thrown open for him, and all he had to do was accept the champagne glass being offered.

The only thing he hadn't anticipated was the meddlesome person who'd shown up at the last moment to cause trouble.

So he smiled magnanimously. His eight white teeth gleamed as he bowed to the one small flaw in an otherwise perfect scene. Saliba apologized sincerely:

"Unfortunately, you're still too late."