Crown of Tears

"Hey, can you see me? I'm right here!"

The insignificant shout spread out, splashing only a single ripple in the ever-flowing River of Tears, and then...

Another ripple, and another!

As if provoked by words that overestimated their own worth, the long-silent river surged like boiling water. Souls filled with agony raised towering waves, seeking to overturn the spark that was truly too ignorant to know better, the one that had startled them from their slumber.

If you hadn't awakened us, we would never have realized that sacrifice could be so painful!

As long as the sacrifice had value, we would have accepted it gladly!

But why, then, do tears still flow?

But why, then, do tears bring forth even more tears?

"Because tears and sacrifice cannot change fate. Not yours, and not mine."

The flickering, minuscule spark reached out a hand, extending an invitation to the incoming giant waves.

"I cannot understand your sorrow as if it were my own, but I, too, have things I wish to change—right here, right now."

"Everything will be fine, everything will be in order; the future must be so, I promise you."

"--Are you willing to join me in setting this imperfect world ablaze?"

At that, the waves came to an abrupt halt, as if frozen.

Countless weeping eyeballs emerged from the tide, and within the reflection of those dense, crowded pupils, that single spark of firm light flickered. Under a promise never before heard, the river gathered from tears fell into a chaos it had never known.

Perhaps for only an instant, or perhaps after an eternity of contemplation, the tide surged forward once more, but this time, it gently enveloped the flame.

The fire of rage had never been extinguished; the tears of suffering were merely its embers. At this moment, the long-cooled anger recalled its original form.

Here, offer the final sacrifice, the sacrifice that ends all predetermined sacrifices.

The newborn god nodded solemnly, accepting all the tears just as the past had accepted all the blood.

With this pain as a pledge, the new covenant was declared complete.

Emerging from within the soul of Horn, a fire greater than any before ignited the overflowing pain and sorrow, and the river gathered from endless tears flowed backward for him. The churning waves cheered, gently lifting him upward, away from the ancient hell, toward a world they could never reach.

Toward the guilty, vengeance!

The next moment, in the deepest part of the Blood Pool, Horn opened his eyes.

Joy.

Unstoppable joy.

It felt as if he were in a beautiful dream; even as his newborn body was carved with countless wounds by the incoming streams of light, he could not feel a shred of pain.

In his ears, the noise of the slaughter was no longer clear, leaving only the endless rumbling of thunder, signaling that the great Achievement was but one step away. As long as he constructed the great work of converting [Blood] into [Heart], he could truly don the crown of Baal and become a transcendent existence even among the [Immortals].

Once it was done, he would first crush the bugs currently in his way, then push forward the integration of the [Blood Field], turn the entire Birmingham into a borderland, and before the [Historical Council] could make a move, he would devour every living thing here. Finally, he would clear the table, pack up the leftovers, and leave the Manifest World.

By then, whether upward, outward, or downward, as an [Immortal] of [Heart], he would always have a place to go.

His long-cherished wish was about to be fulfilled; the future was so beautiful.

Relying on his newly grown scales to withstand yet another razor-sharp strike, the previously joyful expression on Saliba's face suddenly froze.

The divinity that had been pouring in continuously, converted through the ritual of [Storm Burnt Offering], had suddenly been cut off!

In the mere blink of an eye, hundreds of wounds of varying depths appeared on his wings. The membranes were so tattered he could barely maintain flight, and he fell helplessly downward.

From where Saliba's head had originally been, hundreds of pitch-black, glistening compound eyes—the kind that would make anyone with trypophobia scream—burrowed out, gathering in the eye sockets and staring in shock at the source of this anomaly.

The Sacred Heart Hospital, which existed as his base and was supposed to be foolproof in his plan!

Deep underground, in the Blood Pool, blood-colored patterns traced from the corners of the black-haired boy's eyes, across his cheeks, and down to his jaw, where they vanished.

It was as if tears were flowing down.

A crown formed of condensed smoke appeared above Horn's head, a witness to the covenant, offering the only gift it could to its sole savior.

[Crown of Moloch]!

Too impatient even to filter, devouring the distorted spirituality in large gulps, Horn's eyes were a sea of crimson. He would embrace this [Blood] pollution if he had to, just to gain the upper hand in the struggle for control against Saliba!

A person lives to eat; why are there so many unspoken rules about eating? What the hell is pollution or distortion? I'm just going to eat it. And what's with this Burnt Offering ritual? I'm just going to jump onto the altar, do a 360-degree sweep of the offerings, then pounce on the priest and bite him down. Don't even think about running, participants—I'm going to gnaw on all of you! I'm just going to eat, eat, eat, eat, eat, eat!

I don't care if you're Beelzebub, Baal, or the Vigilant Storm; watch me go crazy stealing the offerings from your grave!

Indifferent to the pain and despair flooding the spirituality, even using this despair as sustenance, Horn seized control of the Blood Pool from Saliba, causing Saliba's reaction to falter and preventing him from stripping Horn's existence from the ritual.

One step slow, every step slow.

Raising a hurricane to overturn the buildings above the Blood Pool, before he could even break the blockade he had set himself, Saliba was pierced through the chest by a light spear that Veronica had been charging for a long time. He was pinned to the ground beside the Blood Pool, his head embedded wretchedly in the ruins, facing exactly toward Horn's position.

For a moment, he was unable to move.

His rotating compound eyes stared at the boy standing in the center of the Blood Pool, whose eyes were chaotic and crimson, whose limbs were beginning to sprout uncontrollably, and whose heartbeat was becoming like a war drum. In Saliba's heart, previously filled with joy, there was now only endless disbelief, and, for the waste, a heart-wrenching regret. Even the conversion of divinity began to waver, almost regressing.

Pain, it hurts so much!

No, this cannot be; the divinity of Baal was not meant to be absorbed like this!

Put it down, let me handle it!

Watching Horn evolve from a Shit Mountain Coder into a Super Bomber with equal disbelief, Veronica did not offer any nonsensical advice; instead, she silently noted this Sacrifice, forcing herself to draw power from an immense burden even as her own state of existence deteriorated further.

At the very least, she would ensure this courage had meaning.

Regardless of what they were thinking, Horn stood at the bottom of the Blood Pool, which had been completely drained in a short amount of time, let out a burp, and exhaled a thick cloud of smoke.

Whew, I'm stuffed!

From the crown suspended overhead, the Tears of Agony left behind by countless sacrifices gathered and surged like a tidal wave, propelling Horn toward the culprit before him to unleash his true nature.

Relying on this power of the same origin, he would bite, he would fight, he would leave behind agony, and he would bring about death!

He would have his revenge!

Barely maintaining his sanity, Horn suppressed the surging hatred in his heart, feeling the strange heat radiating from the skin wrapped in bandages on his back, as well as the faint gaze cast down from somewhere far higher in the firmament by a Great Being.

At this critical juncture, yielding to the Restlessness rising in his heart, Horn closed his eyes and silently offered a prayer.

If this is my destiny, then don't keep me waiting—bring it on!