The trailing Demonic Spears carved phantom streaks through the air like comet tails. The willowy silhouette cackled, didn’t dodge, let the spears skewer her body. Meanwhile, tentacles hidden all around jetted out even faster, stabbing for Violet’s front.

Violet snorted, tugged the reins, and charged. The Demonic Spear in her hand kindled with Thunder, arcs coiling like dragons. She swept it crosswise to bar the tentacles.

But the blow met nothing. The tentacles spearing her way dissolved into clots of black mist on contact. The real strike had been waiting at her flank.

A massive tendril slammed into the massive warhorse, flipping it and Violet mid-charge. The slender figure, riddled with spears, acted like it was nothing. She let out a shrill cry, sprang along the huge tentacle, and gave chase.

The dark-red figure crashed into a building. Dust billowed like a sandstorm, almost swallowing her shape. To the willowy figure, the haze meant nothing. An obsidian claw tore through the dust and clamped around Violet’s throat.

Another squeeze, and that dark-red armor would shatter like pottery. Violet’s breath, like a scented candle, would be snuffed out.

“Blood Sorcery—”

As the cold chant rose, the willowy figure finally noticed. The Demonic Spears impaled through her all had tails wrapped in hair-thin threads of blood. Their source, without doubt, was Violet, the one in her grip.

The feral claw tightened without hesitation, punching through the dark-red armor. Yet the soft incantation didn’t stop. No blood spilled from the throat the claw pierced.

“Bloodfall!”

A crimson sigil unfurled like a blooming seal. The willowy figure twitched to flee. A scarlet Demonic Spear punched through her from behind. The crushed suit of armor lunged as well, pinning her fast.

Several spears detonated at once. Rich blood geysered from the body swathed in black mist. Beneath pale hands tugging the threads, thorned bloodvines burst to life. They drove through every inch of that willowy form, leaving no flesh behind.

Violet didn’t stop. She moved like instinct given blade. Her Demonic Spear traced blossom after blossom in the air. Thunder coiled on the shaft and cracked with each stroke.

Each strike shuddered the ground. Each was a demon’s hysteric roar, venting rage. The whole city seemed to totter.

With every falling spear, the gushing blood multiplied. Under Violet’s will, the streams braided into cataracts. A river of blood. The surging torrent scoured the town wrapped in black mist, without mercy.

Blood replaced the fog. Twisted creatures crumbled back into bones, then were reborn within the river and roared anew.

On the lord’s manor balcony, Laz watched. No panic touched his face. Instead, a faint smile bloomed.

“?!”

The girl jolted awake. The tremor made a cry leap to her lips. Lilo hurried in, slipped off her glove, took the girl’s hand, and soothed her in a low voice.

After she calmed, Lilo asked softly.

“What is it? Nightmare?”

She pressed her brow and leaned on the pillow. When the dull ache receded, she finally spoke.

“Maybe. I felt something shaking, really strong...”

Lilo didn’t say much. In moments like this, she wasn’t sure if stock comforts would backfire on a girl from another age. So she just held her hand, quietly, trying to steady her.

Ever since she’d seen that pure-white figure, a strong wrongness gnawed at her. The quilt before her. The pillow. Even the hand she gripped, the warmth in that palm...

And yet, set against all this, maybe she was the strangest thing here.

She didn’t know the world had ended. Didn’t know Eldritch Gods had descended. Didn’t know she was the so‑called ultimate weapon.

She let her hand fall from her brow and studied Lilo in silence. As if tugged by a soft current, she just wanted to keep looking at the one before her.

Feeling that gaze, Lilo met it, calm at first. Her dark eyes held stillness and warmth, a quiet pull. Soon, her grip tightened around the girl’s hands. A faint blush rose to her cheeks.

Right then, though their thoughts were worlds apart, something strange rippled between them.

“Ahem, ahem!”

Unable to bear the mood, Lilo turned her head. She groped for a topic, anything to redirect that gaze.

“Lady Valkyrie... we never got your name. Do you still remember it?”

Such a clumsy pivot would only make it worse, wouldn’t it? Lilo sighed, a little abashed. The girl on the bed, though, considered it seriously. She never let go of Lilo’s hand.

After a long moment, the girl sighed and shook her head.

“I really can’t remember my name. And don’t call me Valkyrie, please. I don’t even know who I am...”

The answer didn’t surprise Lilo. From the first meeting—those clear eyes, newborn as a child’s, and all those blank spots—she’d guessed as much.

A hundred million years... that long a drift would break even the finest machine. The civilization that birthed the girl hadn’t survived its own legacy.

Seeing that flicker of loss, Lilo forgot to mind her manners and blurted out,

“In that case, how about I give you a name?”

“Eh?”

Lilo brightened. She let go, tapped at her wristwatch, and a gentle light unfurled. A figure appeared before the girl.

It was a mural, rendered whole by the projector. A woman in Silvery Armor, spear in hand, standing atop a mountain of bones, gazing to the heavens. Her face was indistinct. Yet sanctity and valor flowed through the image, crossing any gulf of years.

“This is...”

“This is the Valkyrie of legend—Brynhildr. I think the legend might have been based on you.”

Lilo smiled as she panned the projection, revealing more of the mural. Dozens of figures followed behind the silvery woman. Every last one trailed the Valkyrie.

The noble silhouette stirred the girl’s heart like wind over water. But the memories in her head stayed shackled. Her fingers tightened around Lilo’s, unbidden.

Feeling that small squeeze, Lilo caught on at once and said,

“Then from now on, this is your name—Brynhildr, the Valkyrie of legend~”

At the teasing lilt in Lilo’s voice, the girl’s heart eased for no clear reason. She answered with a smile,

“Just call me Hildr.”

In that same instant, eyes snapped open within a pale-green, glassy fluid. A fair-skinned, black‑haired woman floated there. Bubbles streamed up around her. Silvery radiance bled through the solution, ready to tear the membrane and break free.

“My lord... she woke. An anomaly. Should we—”

“Continue. Increase it... It’s not time. Absolutely not now!”

“Yes!”

White-robed figures moved beyond the glass. The muffled voices through the fluid made the woman thrash. The silver glow swelled, peaking like a tide at full moon.

Then a sting darted through her. Numbness surged and drowned her limbs. The silvery light ebbed. The eyes that had just opened slid shut again.

“Hildr? Hildr? What’s wrong?”

The call at her ear pulled the girl back. She glanced around, then at herself. That brief flash felt like a dream.

“Ah... ah! It’s nothing. I felt like I remembered something, but it keeps slipping away.”

The girl—no, Hildr—smiled and shook her head. She rose from the bed and loosened her limbs. The heavy wrongness was fading, all but that fleeting scene.

“Hildr... you’re smiling?”

Unsure, Lilo asked it while staring at the slight curve at Hildr’s lips.

Since meeting her, Hildr had never smiled so naturally.

Hildr blinked, then asked with a hint of curiosity,

“Is that not normal?”

“No, no, it’s fine. You’re gorgeous when you smile. If the world weren’t this messed up, you’d outshine the idols.”

Seeing that smile, Lilo’s heart eased too, for no clear reason. It soothed like spring sun. Compared to before, Hildr now felt truly alive.

“Idols? What’s that?”

“Mm... not the essential vocabulary, huh? Well, that’s fine. Hildr, can you keep learning what’s happening now?”

Lilo shook her head with a smile. Of course. She was made for doomsday, left by a bygone age. Idol talk wouldn’t stick. Lilo had been the one to slip.

“Of course. I feel better than ever.”

Hildr nodded. Ever since gaining a name, boundless energy seemed to well up inside her.