Lucimia opened her eyes. She and Desty crouched inside the river district thickets, dew beading on leaves like cold fish scales.

This was where they’d hidden before their first Reversion, and where they first fought Nat and Lev. The place felt like a scar pressed into memory.

It meant this was the final Reversion. One more step, and time would rush past Desty’s death mark. After that, even Reversion would be a sealed tomb.

She blinked, irritation pricking first, then action. Her vision had worsened again. Desty stood not near and not far, a silhouette and outfit she could still make out. Her face blurred into double shadows unless Lucimia squinted hard, like trying to read through mist.

It felt like a -6.0 blur, eyes drowning without a lifeline.

So they’d have enough time to speak, Lucimia chose to devour the wound-exchange curse on Desty. Bitter resolve settled like iron in her mouth.

It wasn’t removal, but a clash—energy and Purification Power grinding against the curse. They locked antlers, a draining stalemate. It would keep eating energy, but Lucimia had to do it.

What she spent, she could refill, like a rain-fed cistern.

Even so, absorbed energy carried corruption, silt riding every current. That was unavoidable.

It seemed using energy stained the body. Then, did absorbing it stain the mind?

A seed of suspicion sprouted and shivered in the wind.

She laid out her analysis in plain, sharp lines. Desty understood fast, then fell silent, the hush settling like fresh snow.

Of course she did. It asked her to sacrifice herself—worse, asked by someone else. That bitter weight tasted different.

Watching Desty’s quiet profile, Lucimia pressed her lips, shame first, words later. “Forget it. Asking you to sacrifice yourself is on me. I’ll find another way. For now, we shouldn’t linger. Let’s move.”

She rose. Desty’s hand snapped out, hooking her like a thorn, and pulled her back.

The black-haired girl turned, confusion shadowing her brow.

Desty sighed, a reed-breath through the river grass, then gave a helpless, soft smile. “I agree to your plan.”

Her voice trembled like a silk thread, yet the core was steel.

“From what you’ve said, there’s no better way. We’re cornered already—might as well roll the dice. Besides, you still have a chance to bring me back, right? I trust you. You never lose, do you? The road’s rough, sure, but aren’t you always the one standing at the end?”

Desty held Lucimia’s gaze, eyes steady as an ember that refuses to dim.

Lucimia startled, doubt cutting in like a cold gust. “You trust me that much? What if this plan fails? What if Ment really agrees to be Vosh’s dog and shields the Cross’s inner energy? And I haven’t even found the Cross yet…”

Desty stepped in and wrapped Lucimia tight, the warmth like a quilt in winter. “We’ve got no other way. If we fail, we die together. I’ve been dragging you down, and now I finally get to help. I’m happy to, really.”

“You…” The words tangled like wet reeds; her face didn’t know what shape to take.

“Are you afraid of dying?” Lucimia asked, the question cold as river water.

“I am,” Desty said. “But I’m more afraid of you dying.”

She eased back, met Lucimia eye to eye. “I believe that as long as you live, I won’t die. Just like in the Town of Tranquility—ink-black tentacles took me, and you saved me. In Jaha Town, Lev killed me, and you saved me. In Wasan Village, A-Biao shanked me, and you saved me. Here too, and in a hundred small storms—you’ve always been my handhold. I need to repay that. I’ve been ready for a long time, so…”

Desty paused, smiled at Lucimia, cupped her small cheeks with warm palms. Her lips parted, and her voice was a spring breeze across ice.

“Devour me.”

The words struck, and Lucimia shivered. The red-haired girl’s smile blurred into another—pink hair in her memory like a fallen petal.

Yuna had been the same—smile, gentleness, trust—and the same line: “Devour me.”

Lucimia’s eyes burned at the corners. This time it wasn’t Reversion’s sting. It was tears carrying a flood of tangled feeling.

She held Desty close, whispering like moth wings. “I’m sorry… I’m sorry…”

“It’s okay…” Desty hugged her back, heartbeat steady as a drum under snow. “Do it fast… otherwise… they’ll hunt us down…”

“I’m sorry… I promise, I’ll find you.” Lucimia spoke as she moved, calling up her Devouring Authority.

A vast black shadow boiled out of her body, flowing toward Desty like a midnight tide. It spread. It wrapped. It devoured.

Then the darkness drew tight, shrank, and ebbed back into Lucimia, like a wave returning to its moon.

That marked it—Desty’s energy had been absorbed by the Fuzzy Orb. The pressure of Elyssus on Lucimia’s spine eased, a boulder rolling off her back.

She sat in the snow, head bowed. Her small hands were empty, pale against white ground. She stared, stunned, then clenched hard, knuckles chalk-white.

She lifted her face to the sky’s smoke curtain and the spears of Purification light. Teeth set, words like a blade scraped out. “Vosh… Purification Deity… I remember you.”

—

Elsewhere, Lev’s head burst like a tarred gourd. One second later, the soldier beside him followed, skull blooming red mist.

Thick smoke roared from Lev’s neck stump, coiling and condensing. It forged him a new head, kiln-dark and solid.

“Injury-swap’s dead,” Lev said, rising and dusting ash from his hands. “Can’t tell if Lucimia cracked Desty’s curse, or…”

He glanced at Nat, who stood arms crossed, gaze ice-cold like a frozen river.

Nat stayed silent for a breath, then spoke slow. “She probably devoured Desty. Shame—we were one Reversion short.”

He turned his eyes back to Lev. “She’s found a loophole in this beast-in-a-cage fight. She likely hasn’t found the Cross yet. Now it’s on you to hold the line. We’ll speed the prison’s layout—this valley is a giant jaw, and energy costs are brutal, so time is too.”

He paused, then continued, voice like iron hammered flat. “If you can trust us completely, we can patch that hole. Lucimia dies today, no doubt.”

Lev listened, weighed it, then shrugged, scales in his mind tipping back and forth. “It’s a hard call on our side too.”

“Heh.” Nat’s sneer cut sharp, a cold hook. “If you agree to let my Lord guard the Cross, we can grant you a seat later. My Lord is merciful. But if this trapped-beast bout fails because of you, Nirael will kill you first. Lucimia will devour other Dark Deities further. Olivya’s plan will push ahead. No one walks away easy.”