Case 158: In the end, a ruinous reunion.

Amidst the chimes signalling the end, time ticked by slowly.

For some, it was marked with the frantic scramble for survival, while others soaked themselves in the chords of prayers. Some made it their duty to save others, and some moved with otherworldly convictions.

Cecilia's time was static.

She alone sat in the stretching space where not a sound could be heard. Unmoving, she patiently existed as hours and days went by. Slowly, her consciousness seemed to sink into a muddy mesh, consumed by the control of the blood moon.

''...''

And yet, she held on.

'If I fell here... everything will be meaningless.'

The fact that she gave up her life, that she hurt those she loved—everything would be wasted. Even now, Cecilia couldn't say she didn't feel any regret, and precisely because she had still chosen this path despite harboring such a feeling, she had to see it through.

The dull pain from outside seeping into her head constantly reminded Cecilia of her purpose.

This stage was hers, and until the end, it would be her who shone the brightest.

'Come here... Lyra—my heroine.'

Cecilia clenched her fists. She could hear her own heartbeat—loud and clear, winding up whenever she thought of that person. Since when did Cecilia come to cherish her this much?

Even more than she had imagined, Cecilia loved Lyra.

'If there was a next life... I hope I can be with her again.' A wishful smile bloomed on the demon queen's face, 'But for now... I shall take her hand on this last dance.'

One more chime.

[It looks like the battle had begun outside.]

Astaroth's voice rang from within the abyss, wet with a childish enthusiasm, like a kid who had gotten their favorite toy. Violence, bloodshed—those were mere entertainment in the ancient demon's eyes, yet the more slaying took place, the closer he would get to divinity.

[Get ready, child. Those things won't hold for long.]

''...''

Cecilia slowly pried her eyes open. The demonic core within her shackled heart swelled with vigor, pumping immense power into her body. A crimson blade, fresh as blood, materialized in her hand. With a soft thud, the weapon's tip pierced into the ground, its thirst awaited a battle.

Another chime.

The heavy door to the chamber sprang open—a repeat of countless encounters in the past. From beyond that entrance emerged weathered figures—those that nonetheless possessed a look of interminable will.

At the forefront was Lyra, the heroine, carrying her blood-drenched sword. Amethyst perched squarely on her shoulder, breathing purple flame. Closely behind Lyra were Rachael, Penelope, and Kiara, all with their Soul Guardians active. Besides the four of them, familiar faces could be seen—Jeanne, the former heroine, and her three teammates.

''...You've come, heroes.'' The demon queen's soft voice echoed across, ''Quite a number compared to the usual, isn't it?''

''Cecilia...!''

A flicker of emotion swirled in the demon queen's eyes as Lyra's shout reached her, yet she remained cold, ''I see your determination... but this is the end.''

The queen's figure rose from the majestic throne, the hem of her black dress swaying. Clutching her crimson blade, she descended the stairs in elegant steps, escorted by the blood moon's limelight.

Wisps of hesitation tugged at the younger challengers, while the experienced ones stayed composed. Gradually, the distance between the two sides began to narrow.

The demon queen, dragging her blade on the ground, uttered, ''Lucifer.''

In an instant, the chamber was filled with a bright light. The ancient demon revealed itself within the outburst—a tall and mighty figure, complete with curled horns and a coat of pitch-black fur. The moment Lucifer's horizontal pupils flashed beneath the peels, an insurmountable pressure fell onto the challengers.

Lyra felt her hand trembling. She minded not the demon power, nor the hostility or malice from the blood moon's ruler, but the sheer possibility of confronting that person dulled her will.

At the queen's now emotionless countenance, her ruthless gait—a total contrast from the benevolent person she knew and loved—Lyra's heart ached. And it wasn't just the heroine who saw their momentum dwindling when faced with their love's indifference.

All three women who had been intimate with the queen before found themselves unwilling to hurt her. Both Rachael, Penelope, and Kiara were constantly reminded of the joy, the heartbeats—even the sadness they'd shared with her.

To a woman who was deeply hurt—how could they hurt her further with their own hands?

''Don't waver.'' Jeanne's voice cut through the group's uncertainty, ''Remember what you're here for.''

Leaving behind those words, the former heroine and her teammates sprang toward the demon queen. In mere seconds, they were already engaging with the queen's prowess.

The crownbearer, now with Lucifer's aid and Astaroth's backing, appeared more powerful than ever. Her attacks—each swing of her sword, each magical blast fired—although amateurish, were packed with such an immense force that they proved to be nearly unstoppable.

Even Jeanne and Mia, the finest of all combatants, struggled to keep up with the kind of destructiveness the queen could demonstrate. With the support of the other two members, the best the mage-magical swordswoman duo could do was dance around the queen helplessly.

At the same time, Lucifer also dominated her fight against the Soul Guardians, bringing forth the magical brilliance from the bygone era. Combined with her extensive experience, it was a hurdle unlikely to be overcome.

Watching this scene, the four young challengers also understood it—they had to step up.

''...I'm going.'' Lyra declared.

The remaining three nodded at one another before advancing alongside the heroine.

Perhaps it was the queen's seemingly invincible might that reassured them. Perhaps it was the fact that those crimson eyes had been closely watching them as if expecting their arrival. Or perhaps... it was the will to make things right for that ill-fated girl that pushed them forward.

Under the blood moon's surging waltz, the battle of the end entered its crescendo.

Against the assault of eight people, the demon queen remained rooted in the center of the hall. Basking in the crimson moonlight, her arms and sword moved in elegant arcs, eyes closed, like a conductor serving her final orchestra.

Yet that dominance slowly began to fade as Lyra's firmness in her swordplay grew.

Amidst the chaos, both of them realized it—there was no other way forward. Only by defeating the queen would they have a shot at the mastermind.

At some point, a narrow path began to hazily appear before the group.

''Lyra!'' Jeanne shouted, holding herself before the crimson blade's enormous weight.

In response, the heroine exploded her mana, commanding the field's attention, ''Everyone, ramp it up!!''

A flurry of attacks—bolts of magic, piercing sword strikes—rained down on the queen's delicate figure. Most were blocked by her shield, yet some inevitably slipped through that defense, aided by Jeanne's surprise sabotage at close quarters.

Wounds began to open on the succubus's spotless skin, drawing fresh blood.

Though her regeneration was rapid enough for the eye to witness, the intensity of the rain only intensified. Red streaks accumulated on her body, strokes of paint on a canvas, before she was ultimately pushed back toward the throne.

''Hah... hah...''

Kneeling on one knee, the demon queen leaned on the crimson blade, her expression obscured.

Holding a mix of anxiety and nervousness, the heroine approached the blood-soaked woman. She extended her worn-out hand, demanding, ''Come here, Cecilia. We can still make it right for you.''

''...''

''Cecilia!''

A light chuckle escaped the demon queen's mouth. Blood dripped down her chin as she rose, a ferocious gleam flashed in her pupils, ''Astaroth... lend me your power.''