"On that path, you will not obtain the happiness you desire."

That ethereal shadow spoke softly.

"The happiness I desire?"

Moen paused, murmuring:

"What is the happiness I desire, exactly?"

"Isn't the happiness you want right there?"

The phantom raised a hand and pointed.

The sun-drenched path grew ever more enchanting; flowers swayed in the breeze, grapevines thick with leaves and tendrils, and the beautiful courtyard lay quiet and lovely.

Moen finally understood: that path was the very scene he had dreamed of.

No danger.

No suffering.

No death.

None of those dreadful, messy things.

In a fragrant courtyard, lying on a creaking rocking chair, feeling the gentle wind, watching tranquil scenery, spending a lifetime at ease and in cheer.

To live.

And then be happy.

"Yes, that's what I... have been pursuing."

Moen sank into that sunlight, that warmth.

And so he turned without hesitation and walked toward the sunlit path.

"Moen..."

Sunlight spilled onto his toes, yet his steps faltered again.

Because he heard a voice again—a familiar voice—but it came from the depths of the darkness.

"You must come back."

Amid the softly spoken plea, there, a faint light seemed to flicker humbly like a candle.

Moen gazed at the weak candlelight in the distance, then turned back, entranced by the beauty so close at hand.

First, confusion.

Then sudden realization.

As if countless things cherished within him were awakening at that call, flooding into the depths of his mind.

"It's truly beautiful here."

He said.

"Yes, it's very beautiful here."

The phantom answered: "This is the scene you've imagined countless times in your mind, and naturally the scene you find most beautiful."

"But it's too desolate here, isn't it?"

Reflected in Moen's sky-blue eyes was the empty courtyard, and he said softly:

"Lonely, and desolate, as if I'm the only one."

"If you wish, you can of course add whatever you want into it. You are the noble son of a duke; most things in this world, you can do."

"But."

Moen turned his head, looked again into the depths of that darkness, and said earnestly:

"The people important to me are all over there, aren't they?"

"...Yes."

The shadow wavered slightly, as if in sighing reflection:

"They're all over there."

"If I choose this path, can I still go over there?"

"No. Those in darkness can return to the light, but those who have returned to the light and then fall back into darkness will only, in despair, meet unavoidable death."

"How frightening."

Moen sighed: "From another angle—can they come over? Come into this realm of light."

"They can't either."

The phantom said: "They are all people tightly bound by the net of fate; they are in the torrent of fate, unable to break free. Therefore, this path is one they cannot step upon—never. These two roads are destined to be parallel, never intersecting; if you walk one, you can only wave farewell to the other."

"Not even the duke's son?"

"No. A duke's son is too insignificant before fate."

"Then why can I break free, why do I have room to choose?"

"Because..."

The shadow lifted its head:

"The two strongest beings among humanity at present are both watching you right now. The two of them are enough to sever fate's shackles for you, letting you once again become a carefree duke's son—a normal person who will never again come into contact with any dark god. Decades from now, you will leave this world happily, surrounded by family and flowers."

"I see."

Moen was enlightened.

Combined with that inexplicable feeling of being set up that had appeared earlier, he began to realize the reason for this sun-dropping-from-the-sky affair.

It must be that conniving old loli again, wanting to pull something on him.

No wonder she smiled so brilliantly when they said goodbye at the Sea of flowers—damn it, digging a pit that deep and that far.

And that pope... after he helped the church deal with such a huge mess, they owe him a big favor, surely.

Although as for stealing Lea away, he still didn't know whether that would earn him lasting resentment...

"Heh, if it were a few months ago, I'd be overjoyed."

Moen sighed and gave a self-deprecating smile:

"But now... turning back suddenly, I'm no longer alone. The people who matter are all over there. Even if the flowers are in full bloom here and the sunlight is warm, how can it be called happiness?"

In the darkness, the road remained grim and terrifying, rugged and hard to travel, full of the unknown.

That road would certainly not be easy, but Moen knew that there, someone was waiting for him.

"Besides, not long ago I swore I'd kill that bastard god of love. If I slink away like this, I'll be so angry I won't sleep well for the rest of my life."

"Is that so?"

The shadow wavered again, as if laughing:

"Then go to the place you wish to go, MoenCampbell."

"Mm, I'm going."

But Moen seemed to think of something; he suddenly turned his head and gazed at the shadow:

"Right, I haven't asked you why you went to the trouble of staging all this. In theory, you who have been watching me should be very clear about what I would choose... right?... Black Book."

So suddenly, Moen spoke the shadow's name.

"...Yes."

But the shadow showed no reaction to the words Black Book, only answered softly:

"I know you would choose like this, but I still need to ask you in person.

Because... this is your last, and only, chance to choose. Once you set foot on that path, you will have no chance to regret."

"I see... You're gentler than I imagined. It's just a pity I can't see your features."

Moen cast a regretful glance at the shadow whose gender he couldn't even discern, waved his hand, and walked into the darkness with ease.

"See you in a bit."

"Mm... see you in a bit."

...

As Moen stepped onto that dark road, in an instant all the darkness trembled to its core.

Only then did Moen realize that what surrounded him was not pure darkness, but... black fire.

A fire both strange and familiar.

The flames suddenly contracted upward, the gathered might seeming as if it would destroy the world.

But at the very instant the flames contracted, a bright milky-white radiance burst forth from the heart of the fire.

So clear... so sacred.

...

"Eh?"

Lea lifted her head in a daze, looking at the crystal floating before her.

The crystal, which had already been tainted by those countless resentments, suddenly flared with an extremely bright light.

That rich and familiar radiance made Lea's delicate body tremble involuntarily.

Feeling that vast, holy power in the light flow through the crystal into her body, and then through the place where she was connected to Moen into his body, Lea murmured in shock:

"This is... a baptism of holy light!"

...

The milky-white holy light, as a sixth force, thrust itself forcefully into the black flames.

The flames began to churn again, uncanny colors intertwining and merging amid violent surges.

As time passed, it seemed that everything was gradually stabilizing in balance.

But Moen inexplicably had a feeling... as if something was still missing.

...

Rustle.

Deep in Moen's consciousness, a quaint black book flipped; a page detached itself from the book.

The page was densely imprinted with unknown symbols and patterns, which turned into a streak of flowing light and shot swiftly into the flames.

This was... the seventh force that even Mela had not foreseen.

...

The book continued to flip rapidly; amid the turning too swift to see, words recorded in ages long past seemed to surface upon the pages—extremely ancient script.

[Only rules can lever rules.]

[Only a dark god... can kill a dark god.]

Amid the brewing of seven forces, something truly unknown gradually took shape...

...

Boom.

The thunderous roar nearly tore consciousness apart.

Moen's vision fell once more into pure darkness, yet the violent shaking all around made him feel as if he were experiencing the destruction and rebirth of a world.

Suddenly, Moen felt he had formed a mysterious connection with something, and also felt that something seemed to be watching him.

So he opened his eyes.

All entwining and merging had ceased, leaving only a serene sky-canopy.

And as Moen lifted his head, he saw a newborn sun rising above that canopy.

A black solar disk, like a pure black hole, devouring all light.

A pale corona, like a sacred crown, unfurled and breathed around the disk.

Majesty and eeriness coexisted, indescribable in words.

It was a... pale-crowned black sun!