Schrik! Kagh! Krrkkk!
Gebel and Shalok clashed in a rapid exchange of blades.
Shalok countered Gebel’s attacks with a dazzling display of bizarre techniques and concealed weapons, his movents sharp and unpredictable.
Gebel quickly realized—
Breaking through the rcenaries and Shalok to reach Leonora was impossible.
"Rotenhamr! Attack from the left!"
At Gebel’s sudden shout, Shalok’s focus wavered slightly—
But Rotenhamr was still locked in combat with Raullok.
Gebel feinted and lunged to the right instead.
Shalok, montarily thrown off by the obvious deception, barely had ti to react.
He twisted his body and thrust his sword forward, anticipating Gebel would either dodge or retreat.
But—
Gebel did neither.
Instead, he charged forward, feeling the blade pierce his chest—
Yet, his eyes were locked solely on Leonora.
"You insane—?!"
Leonora, who had rationally planned to negotiate, could not understand this madness.
She instinctively stumbled backward, tripping over a step.
And above her—
Gebel lunged, raising his sword to strike down.
But—
Shalok grabbed Gebel and yanked him back, his sword slamming into the stone steps instead of Leonora.
Gebel’s blade slipped from his grasp and clattered down the stairs.
Undeterred, Gebel grabbed Leonora’s throat with his bare hands.
Instinctively, he tried to invoke Midas’ Hand—
Just as Leonora had once done.
"Die—!"
But—
Instead of words—
Only a choked gasp, a spray of blood.
Shalok’s blade had already pierced Gebel’s lung.
Gebel could no longer speak his wish.
But he could still strangle her.
Shalok lunged again, but—
Gebel’s grip only tightened, fingers crushing down with unrelenting strength.
Leonora’s vision blurred.
She could not comprehend what was happening.
‘It’s not like I wanted to conquer the world or kill everyone.’
She had never thought of herself as pure or innocent, but neither was she a murderous lunatic.
She did not avoid killing, but she did not delight in it either.
More than anything—
She had never even planned to make a wish.
All she had wanted was to use Midas’ Hand as leverage—
To free herself from this insane war between gods, angels, and fanatics—
And to carve out a rational path forward.
‘Yes, I worked for my Guild’s best interests.
But isn’t that still better than Elil turning the whole world into a battlefield, or the Codex of Light justifying anything for their so-called divine purpose?’
‘Or the Red Chalice, always starving for flesh?’
Her frustration was justified.
And at that mont—
Leonora realized why gold had never truly ruled the world.
Even though gold could seduce and control the hearts of n—
It had never fully dominated history.
Because gold was rational.
And the world did not allow rationality to dictate its rules.
If Leonora had truly wished for the world to be covered in gold—
Then this war would have already ended in the Guild’s victory.
But she had not wished for sothing so irrational—
And the world had responded accordingly.
Only madness could dictate the laws of madness.
"Why is he so damn strong?!"
It took five rcenaries to pry Gebel off her before her neck snapped.
Even then—
With blood foaming from his lips, his eyes wild, he still roared:
"Rotenhamr! You have to kill Leonora!"
Rotenhamr heard Gebel’s cry—
But surrounded by rcenaries, he could not act.
And at that mont—
As Shalok helped Leonora to her feet—
She made her second wish.
She did not wish for personal gain.
She did not wish for her own safety.
She wished—
For the Golden Idol Guild to win.
And to do that—
She had to destroy the way gods, angels, and rulers controlled humanity.
"Enough!"
"Stop killing people, you lunatic bastards!"
At that mont—
A brilliant light engulfed her.
A light so blinding, yet so gentle—
She could not see through it, yet it etched itself onto her retinas.
High above—
A massive figure, six lighthouses and sixteen wings, gazed down upon her with an unwavering expression.
The Lighthouse Keeper.
He descended—
His presence suffocating, yet serene—
Eyes locked upon her.
[So it shall be.]
Gebel rembered the first ti he had ever killed a man.
It had been a Barbari bandit—a scrawny boy, no older than fifteen, much like himself at the ti.
The boy’s hands had trembled in fear, his only weapon a broken fire poker.
But the jagged edge of that poker could have easily pierced Gebel’s gut.
That sa bandit had raided a ho on the outskirts of a village, setting fire to it—
Killing an entire family in the flas.
Gebel had not hesitated.
He had struck the bandit down and silenced him forever.
The boy had begged,
Claiming it was a mistake, that he had only wanted to steal, that his younger siblings were starving—
But Gebel had believed none of it.
Because he was Barbari.
The outcasts—those who fled from the gods, those who had been abandoned by them.
They recognized no morality, no law, no higher purpose—only their own self-interest.
And those who did not fear divine retribution were free to commit any sin so long as they could profit from it.
It was better to simply kill them all.
Gebel had loved the Avalanche Knights.
They had accepted him, despite his lowborn heritage.
They had embraced him as family.
They had been unyielding, as sharp as their blades, yet righteous in their pursuits.
As long as he was with them, he had been invincible.
The Dawn Army had taken the lives of many comrades, but—
Gebel had honored their deaths.
Their sacrifices had forged the Codex of Light even stronger.
The survivors would carry sharper blades.
Even the deaths of the righteous were necessary.
Gebel rembered the day the Avalanche Knights were slaughtered.
A betrayal—
A one-sided, senseless massacre.
They had been war heroes.
Veterans who had survived even the suicidal marches of the Dawn Army.
And yet—
They had been butchered like livestock.
There had been no glory.
No honor.
Only an execution.
Later, Gebel learned the truth.
It had not simply been treachery.
It had been ordered.
Planned.
An act so vile that he could never accept it.
His comrades—
They had not been heroes, martyrs, or sacrifices.
They had been coins.
Coins that gods tossed back and forth, exchanging them for favors.
To the gods, lives were nothing but currency.
All deaths were aningless.
Gebel thought of Isaac.
The strange boy who once ate rats.
The Holy Grail Knight.
The Saint of Resurrection.
The Drear.
The Commander of the Issacrea Dawn Army.
The avenger that Gebel himself had nurtured.
He had believed—
That Isaac’s blade would one day find its way to the traitors.
But now—
That blade had lost its direction.
Gebel knew the truth.
Isaac was not an ordinary man.
He tried to hide it, but Gebel knew better.
He had watched Isaac too closely for too long.
There were secrets in Isaac’s presence—
Patterns only he had noticed.
And Gebel knew—
That if he asked Isaac to kill the Lighthouse Keeper,
Isaac would have considered it seriously.
That was why Gebel had never asked.
Because he no longer wanted revenge.
Now—
He only wanted Isaac to live.
To be safe.
To be happy.
And the mont he laid eyes on Midas’ Hand—
He had understood.
It was like Isaac.
A thing that should not exist.
A thing that threatened him.
The world had no rules for things like them.
But Gebel had believed—
That as long as Isaac lived,
Then the world was still right.
There was no pain as his body turned to ash.
No burning sensation, no agony.
Just—
A blinding white light.
And in the last monts—
The image of a young Isaac,
Holding out a jar, proudly presenting the rats he had caught.
***
Leonora saw the world wash white before her.
Unlike Gebel,
She had no mories, no reflections.
No ti to reminisce.
She was simply—
Overwheld.
By the Lighthouse Keeper’s presence.
The pressure was crushing.
It felt as if nothing else existed in the world but him.
The world was a blank canvas,
And the Lighthouse Keeper was the only thing painted upon it.
He descended gracefully,
Eyes locked onto her.
His sixteen wings began to unfold.
The Lighthouse Keeper had manifested many tis throughout history—
But rarely had anyone seen what lay beneath his wings.
So scriptures described his radiant beauty.
His divine gaze.
His glorious form.
But were those truths—
Or rely the reverence of the faithful?
Leonora—
She would witness the truth.
Within his wings—
There were more wings.
Thousands.
Tens of thousands.
They flowed and shifted like boiling water,
rising and falling, folding and unfolding.
And from that shifting mass—
A golden eye surfaced.
And within that golden eye—
Countless smaller eyes blinked in unison,
All fixated upon her.
Then—
The golden eye split apart,
And from within it,
Dozens of threads extended outward.
A fractal nightmare.
An endless recursion.
Leonora felt herself pulled into the depths of it.
The Lighthouse Keeper reached out his hand.
But—
Within that hand—
Was another, smaller hand.
And within that—
An even smaller hand.
Layer upon layer upon layer.
Finally—
A hand identical to hers rested before her.
The Lighthouse Keeper first reached toward Gebel.
He gently placed a hand upon Gebel’s head.
And in an instant—
Gebel, and the rcenaries restraining him,
Were reduced to white ash.
Leonora could not even scream.
“Does Midas’ Hand… not work?”
The thought barely ford in her mind when—
The Lighthouse Keeper’s hand caressed her cheek.
And he whispered:
["The world does not change in an instant."]
["It changes slowly, painfully, through hardship and patience. It regresses and advances, over and over."]
His voice—
Was weary.
She could not understand why.
Yet she noticed—
That despite touching her,
She had not turned to ash.
["But your wish has helped push the world forward."]
["Three hundred years. Or rather, far longer than that. It is ti to finally conclude what was set in motion."]
“…Three hundred years?”
Leonora’s thoughts raced.
What had happened three centuries ago?
The White Plague?
The birth of the Immortal Emperor?
The rise of the Immortal Order?
The victory of Urdantu?
She did not know.
But—
History moved regardless of her understanding.
The Lighthouse Keeper lifted her gently,
Like a precious child.
And at last—
Leonora realized.
She was under the protection of the most powerful angel in existence.
And sohow—
The Lighthouse Keeper shared her goal.
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