Dust Settles

Amidst the agony of his body and soul being scorched by flames, Saliba finally broke free from his constraints. The Blood Macro-Spring surged, shaking off Horn, who was still clinging to him and tearing away, and he unfurled his tattered wings once more.

He summoned the storm, spreading his wings to take flight.

From the harmonica Saliba carried with him, a bright and resonant melody suddenly erupted. A deeper shade of blue was painted across the scarlet sky at the boundary, bleeding out into a vibrant rainbow.

Rising Harmony!

Through this artifact, he invoked a secret covenant with the Lower Heavens, whispering the treasured Ninefold Rumors to the spirits of the high heavens. Saliba urgently commanded the sky to open a path for him, and ignoring the flames that were climbing back up his legs, he struggled to soar upward.

Almost there, he would soon be free from this nightmarish existence.

This time, no one could keep him here!

...Or could they?

What was happening?!

He beat his wings desperately, forcing his heart to pump, but despite having crossed a vast distance, the rainbow before Saliba's eyes did not grow larger; in fact, it was drifting further and further away.

Seized by terror, Saliba looked around in a panic. It wasn't just the sky—everything, save for the pitch-black flames still biting at him like psoriasis, was moving further and further away.

It was within reach, yet separated by a chasm as wide as the heavens.

Because someone had granted a departure.

And now, it was not yet time.

In the heat of the battle, a light screen suddenly popped up before Horn. On the ink-green desktop, a purple hue belonging to the Key aspect emerged, forming an abstract symbol resembling a Double-Horned Battle Axe, though half of its blade was missing.

A golden-purple card condensed upon it, and sharp brushstrokes danced across it like snakes, depicting a heroic face bathed in the sunset, adorned with a butterfly orchid hair accessory, one cheek veiled in shadow.

[--Someone has arrived!]

[The signs are clear enough—the gate is either tightly shut or wide open, the edges of the shadows are as sharp as blades, and the scent of moth orchids permeates the air. All indications point to one fact: an Immortal has revealed their true form here!]

[An Immortal of the Key is close at hand!]

The warning before him twisted like a snake, spawning new characters.

[Immortal: "Blade's Vestige" Veronica Cessnodike]

[Aspect: Key, Blade.]

[Just to friends, sharp to foes; scales fly toward the white sun, while the night dwells beneath the hawthorn.]

[She tends to guard the gates of the boundary, but she is no stranger to the laws of sharpness.]

[She never enjoys meaningless strife, but do not underestimate her resolve to maintain the boundary.]

Standing upon the dividing line of the boundary, antler-like protrusions of white jade pierced the skin of Veronica's forehead, winding and extending. Only one side of the antlers remained intact, while the other was broken from the root; the purple fracture was so sharp that merely looking at it made one's eyes feel as if they were being sliced by blades.

The Immortal achievement he had sought but never attained was now manifest before him, undeniable and absolute.

Saliba felt as if he had been struck by lightning!

He stopped maintaining the rhythm of his heart and cast the scorching black flames to the back of his mind. Saliba poured all his remaining spirituality into his compound eyes. Thousands upon thousands of newly born scarlet pupils blinked incessantly, desperately trying to discern the truth of this manifestation.

Whether it was a realistic illusion or a hallucination of his own, he begged, please, anything but this—this was the one thing that could not be...

But no matter how Saliba pleaded, prayed, or despaired, the cold reality still slapped him in the face.

"Impossible, why, no, this isn't right..."

As if still trapped in a nightmare, Saliba, having witnessed the transformation in Veronica with his own eyes, found even his subconscious denial to be weak and futile.

From flesh to soul, and down to that ethereal yet crucial divinity, everything corroborated this undeniable fact.

It was a far more profound, thorough, and greater achievement than the half-baked goal he had been pursuing!

"Why, no one told me there would be an Immortal here!"

His desperate wail was likewise imprisoned within the cage of "so near yet so far," echoing in vain.

"What is wrong? Isn't this what you have been pursuing all along?"

Her face, god-like, held neither sorrow nor joy, only solemnity. Veronica opened her mouth and, with ancient etiquette, delivered the final verdict to the enemy before her.

"There is no need for astonishment. You should feel honored to behold this solemn form."

"This gate will not open for you; not now, and not in the future."

Inheriting the holy name of Kaldia, the former Key Holder made her solemn declaration.

"The tower pierces the firmament, and death is laid bare."

Here, the final act for the arrogant is served!

"Creak—"

In the void, a side gate that should not have existed was opened by a power that acted in accordance with the time. A magnificent door frame adorned with pomegranate and grape patterns appeared; the once-sturdy chains trembled and snapped, and even the hinges were left teetering.

What surged forth from within the gate were the dark waves of the Styx!

In the final moment, Saliba tried to flee, tried to resist, and tried to defy the inevitable fate, but a mass of flames remained tightly coiled around him, interrupting his every move.

Just like that, it held him in its embrace, refusing to let him escape this ordained destiny.

"You are but dust, and to dust you shall return."

Styx, pour forth!

Plague, blood, ambition, tears, and agony, along with that heart that beat without rest.

Everything was swallowed into the murky, dark river.

Scholars who study the Fire-Stealing Art describe conflict as a debate, one that can only reach its conclusion through the absolute silence of one party. At this moment, under the weight of undeniable power, Saliba ceased his agitation and fell into permanent silence.

Just like that, never to be seen again.

[Fate Deflection--]

[Key, activate!]

The final storm surged, carrying the warmth of flames as it billowed up into the heavens, gently sweeping away the lingering dark red clouds and restoring clarity to the sky.

The border [Blood Field] crumbled and fell apart; the world was no longer crimson, as if the fierce battle just now had been nothing but a dream.

Yet, there were no more tears falling, no more agony gathering. The long-held wish was finally released, and the obsession anchored within the [Restless Blood] dissipated, meeting its final end along with the death of its master.

In the dead silence, the magnificent gate hanging in mid-air gradually faded away. Retracting the half-withered, half-flourishing antlers upon her head, Veronica pulled out a new pair of sunglasses and put them on. That god-like majesty finally dissipated, and her solemn declaration turned into a mortal's complaint.

"Ahhh, seriously, I knew those old geezers were the best at assigning people; not a single business trip is ever worry-free!"

After venting at a superior who was nowhere to be found, the tall, blonde girl approached the deep pit scoured out by the Styx, lowering her eyes as if in mourning.

Paying tribute to this noble Sacrifice.

At the bottom of the pit, surrounded by soil and rock, the crown upon the boy's head disintegrated, and the flames on his body gradually extinguished, revealing mottled scales and overgrown tissue upon his frame.

This was the lingering poison that had not vanished along with Saliba.

Under Veronica's deliberate isolation, the Styx flowing from the Gate Legion had swept away only Saliba, not touching Hohenheim, who had been locked in a death struggle with him, in the slightest. But lacking the supply of fuel and the support of obsession, the magnificent flames could no longer sustain themselves, forcing Hohenheim back to his original form.

Revealing a body that was already riddled with holes.

When all was said and done, this power, far too great, was never meant to be wielded by a mere mortal. Attempting to force it would inevitably exact a price; even a quiet death seemed too merciful, with distortion and alienation being the only final destination.

Yet, the boy seemed not to care at all, lying on his back in the dust, looking up at the sky that was no longer crimson but had returned to blue.

On a face stained with Ember and soot, he could not help but reveal a smile.

"So tired... but it was worth it. I can finally be at ease."

"..."

Keeping the boy's calm sentiment firmly in her heart, Veronica abandoned futile comfort and solemnly prayed for him toward the [Double-Horned Battle Axe], just as she had done for every fallen comrade back when she was in the [Gate Legion].

"It is an honor to have known you, Mr. Hohenheim Lancaster. You possess a noble soul worthy of burning blood."

Just like that, she manifested a hawthorn branch in her hand and aimed it from afar at Hohenheim's heart.

With the highest etiquette, she granted the mercy of death.

"Eh, ehhhhhhh?"

Shifting his attention away from the notification popping up on the light screen, Hohenheim looked at the hawthorn hanging in mid-air, about to strike, and fell into unprecedented confusion.

No, wait, I'm still alive and well, I don't want to die, you don't need to help me execute it early, please!