[???]
"So, hearing all that," Grimm's voice cut through the oppressive air. "Do you have what it takes to fight me? This will be your last chance to surrender."
A tense smile still graced Lilith's face, but even a fool could see it was a farce. Her usual confidence she was now strained—barely holding beneath the weight of what stood before them. Her incandescent blue eyes flicked to Reylthorn.
Her younger brother stood beside her, the deep wound Grimm had carved into his chest had long since mended, yet she could see it—the unease, the guarded way he held himself.
Lilith sighed, her lips pursing. "This is exactly why I didn't want you participating in these festivals," she murmured, the words leaving her like an exhausted whisper. "It was only a matter of time till we ran into someone like him."
Reylthorn scoffed, rolling his shoulders as if to shake off her words. "I don't want to hear you nagging, especially not now," he rebutted. "I can handle myself."
Lilith's gaze lingered on him, her expression unreadable. He was young—too young for this. Yet braver than most. Lesser men would have faltered the moment they felt Grimm's presence, let alone suffered his blade. Yet Reylthorn stood despite knowing exactly what they were up against.
("Knowing my idiot of a sister, she probably wants me to forfeit,") Reylthorn thought bitterly, eyes narrowing as he stared at Grimm. ("She thinks she can handle this guy alone but…")
No. That wasn't an option.
They were not mere warriors, nor were they simple sorcerers. They wielded the dominion of space and time—not magic, but the very concept. They could rewrite the wounds inflicted upon them, reverse the destruction of their own forms with nothing more than a thought. It was their inheritance. But even that power had limits.
They were not immune to Death.
And Grimm… Grimm reeked of it.
Among the Inheritors, only six could truly wield the raw authority of their God's chosen power—not through artificial mimicry, not through spells, but through pure, innate dominion. Lilith and Reylthorn had been fortunate enough to be among them, blessed with the mastery of space and time.
Yet, even as that power coursed through his veins, Reylthorn could feel it—doubt.
("We never had this much trouble with an opponent before.") He exhaled sharply, fingers curling into fists. They still had cards left to play, but looking at Grimm, standing there so assured and so terrifyingly calm—every single one of their tactics suddenly felt worthless.
Grimm did not look like a general. He looked like a warlord.
No, worse.
A force of nature. A being that existed beyond the trivial concepts of war and battle. His blade, held with such lethality, seemed eager for violence. His stance spoke of infinite readiness, every muscle poised to strike at a moment's notice.
And that helmet. That damn helmet.
Its expressionless facade made it impossible to read him, to even get a sliver of understanding of his intent. Was he even taking this seriously?
Grimm twirled his blade effortlessly, the motion smooth yet filled with implied menace. "Is this festival really important enough for you to be throwing your lives away so freely?" His voice was indifferent and unimpressed. "You seem so adamant on fighting me."
Lilith tilted her head, her golden accessories catching the light. A smile, thin and sharpened, tugged at her lips. "You act as though the battle is already a foregone conclusion." Her voice carried annoyance. "I admit I was surprised—I did not expect someone from Vel'ryr to have such an ability. But you aren't conveniently forgetting that we've attacked only three times, are you?"
She let the words linger, allowing Grimm to process the implication.
They still had so much more.
Reylthorn parted his lips to add something, but his breath hitched.
"Uh, sis," he suddenly whispered, low and urgent.
Lilith blinked, turning her gaze to him. "What?"
"I can't use clairvoyance on him."
Lilith's smile froze. "...What do you mean?"
"He's...he's like Mikoto Yukio," Reylthorn murmured, his voice uncharacteristically shaken. "I can't get a grasp on his specific future. And by extension, ours in this battle. His destiny is a damn blur."
A rare curse left his lips, something he rarely did. If the situation weren't so dire, Lilith might have chastised him. But now? Now, she felt the same cold dread crawl down her spine.
("This is unexpected—another anomaly in this festival.")
It had been the same for Dante. His future was unreadable, a complete unknown. And now, standing before them, was a third anomaly.
Three warriors. Three unreadable fates.
For the first time since their transformation, Lilith felt something she loathed.
Uncertainty.
"It doesn't matter," she said finally, though the words felt forced even to her. "If clairvoyance was all we had to offer, we wouldn't be fighting in the first place."
Grimm's head tilted ever so slightly. "...Is that so?"
"It is." Lilith's voice turned cold. "We'll ensure your Death at the very least. When Reylthorn and I fight together, there is no battle we cannot win."
Grimm remained still for a moment, his unreadable gaze locked onto them. Then, with a slow movement, he raised his blade and pointed it at them.
"I have defied Death more times than I can count," he intoned. "I have fought beasts and men alike, and yet here I stand."
His grip on his blade tightened.
"I do not merely intend to live here and in the future." His tone darkened. "I aim to defy all that stands in my way."
A heartbeat passed.
"To defy that which is divine. That which is ordinary. And that which is Death."
His stance shifted.
"So come. Put forth your best effort. Anything less—"
The air grew heavy.
"...and you might die."
Reylthorn, despite the weight of the declaration pressing down on him, inhaled deeply, steadying his frenzied heart. His fingers curled into tight fists, his knuckles cracking from the pressure. He was well aware of what came next—the moment where everything would hinge on their combined power. His eyes flickered with a resolve, he uttered a name:
"Ephemeral Eternis."
At once, an invisible force rippled outward, distorting everything. The world, in an instant, became eerily still. The trembling of the earth silenced, the concept of movement shackled by Reylthorn.
The sound of existence dulled into absolute nothingness.
Yet within that void of eternity, Reylthorn and Lilith remained untouched by the stillness, the world was theirs to command.
Lilith did not hesitate. She exhaled sharply as her shadow writhed unnaturally beneath her feet, stretching outward in tendrils before unfurling into a dark expanse—an ocean of pure blackness speckled with stars. It was as if she had torn open the fabric of the universe, unveiling the endless void beyond the mortal realm.
It surged toward Grimm, the formless night consuming the frozen area as it raced to engulf him, swallowing even the debri in its advance. The speed of its expansion was instantaneous, inevitable. In a world where time no longer flowed, escape was an impossibility.
And yet Grimm moved.
His form vanished from where he stood, reappearing several meters away, outside the reach of the void's encroaching grasp. He landed with a dull thud on solid ground.
Lilith and Reylthorn's eyes widened.
"What!?"
Lilith's control wavered for but a fraction of a second—just long enough for the abyss to flicker and unravel, dissipating like smoke caught in a sudden gust of wind. The vast cosmic darkness shrank back into her shadow, dissolving as if it had never existed in the first place.
The attack had been undone.
The weight of realization set in. Their absolute control over time—the very foundation of their existence—had been rendered meaningless. The impossibility of it clawed at Lilith's mind, her heart pounding against her ribs. She could feel the sweat beginning to form on her palms, not from exertion, but from something far worse.
Fear.
Reylthorn's throat went dry, his voice hoarse with disbelief. "You—moved?"
Grimm exuded not the slightest trace of concern. If anything, his presence felt even heavier, as though he had simply stepped outside the bounds of comprehension. Slowly he turned his helmeted gaze toward them, the darkened visor betraying nothing.
Then, with an almost casual tone, he answered,
"Of course."
Reylthorn gritted his teeth. "That—That shouldn't be possible! We stopped time! There is no movement! No cause, no effect! So tell me—" His voice sharpened, frustration slipping through. "How the hell are you moving?"
Grimm remained unbothered by his outrage. Instead, he lifted a single hand, tilting his wrist slightly as though inspecting the weight of his blade.
"You speak as though time is an absolute force," he mused, "as though the laws of this world remain unwavering, no matter what is imposed upon them."
His fingers tightened around the hilt of his weapon as he slowly walked forward, every step intentional—because in this frozen world, movement should not exist. And yet, he moved.
"But time is merely an expression of existence," he continued, his voice unhurried. "It is not a singular concept, but a construct built upon the fundamental elements of this universe. Do you truly believe that stopping 'time' in one layer of reality ceases all?"
Lilith's brows furrowed as a sickening feeling clawed at her mind. "What are you implying?"
Grimm finally stopped walking, his blade resting at his side.
"I do not move within the time you've halted."
His head tilted ever so slightly.
"I move within the universe's will."
Grimm gestured to the world around them.
"Your power halts time in a localized framework, enforcing its laws within your domain," he explained, as if instructing a pupil rather than addressing enemies in battle. "But there exist forces beyond your dominion—fundamental. The motion of celestial bodies, the expansion of space, the pulse of existence itself. Your ability grasps at time, but fails to clutch the underlying elements that compose it."
Reylthorn's hands clenched. "That's ridiculous. You're saying you—what? Tap into the principles of the universe?"
Grimm inclined his head ever so slightly. "I do not tap into them. I am attuned to them. The moment your power sought to impose its will, I simply moved outside of what you could affect."
Lilith's fingers twitched at her sides, her mind racing. This wasn't mere arrogance—his words carried a truth. The implications ran deeper than she cared to admit.
("His power... isn't resisting our control over time.")
Her heartbeat pounded against her ribs.
("It doesn't need to.")
She exhaled sharply, her composure wavering for the first time since the battle began. Grimm finally raised his weapon once more, the edge gleaming ominously.
"Come now," he intoned, his voice low. "Surely you did not expect this to be easy?"
Reylthorn exhaled, his eyes narrowing as he took a single step forward.
"Tenebris Aeon."
At once, reality resumed, their ability to stop time was useless here, so Lilith wasted no time.
"The battle is far from over," she declared.
She raised a single hand, she invoked a force that could crush mountains and ruptured the sky. The air around her warped, a vibration rattling through the battlefield as the invisible force took shape.
Gravity.
A force descended upon the area, targeting Grimm with intensity. The absurd weight condensed upon his form, a localized singularity in all but name. The land beneath Grimm imploded in an instant—rocks shrieked as they were compressed into dust, entire plateaus collapsed under the overwhelming force. The devastation spread outward, a massive crater forming beneath him as the pressure obliterated everything in a hundred-meter radius.
The air itself crushed inward, forming an inverted shockwave that sent fragmented shards of the debri flying in all directions. The atmosphere screeched under the force, and yet Grimm walked.
Not stumbled, not struggled, Not forced his way through. He simply walked, through absolute gravity.
His movement was leisurely, his sabatons touched down effortlessly upon terrain that should not have even existed.
Lilith's fingers twitched, her jaw tightening ever so slightly. That weight—it wasn't just meant to suppress him. It was meant to pulverize him. Yet he moved with the same ease as if strolling through an empty meadow.
Grimm tilted his head ever so slightly, as if he had already lost interest in the display.
Reylthorn, however, was already in motion. His eyes burned with a light as he raised both hands skyward.
The heavens responded to his call.
A roar of raw energy surged through the area, the sky splitting apart as a torrent of pure, unfiltered destruction coalesced between it. It was not elemental, not magical—it was the essence of force itself, a wave of energy that held no mercy.
The atmosphere shattered as the wave erupted forward, consuming everything in its wake. The land rippled violently, entire structures were reduced to nothingness, the fabric of space burned away as the energy carved a path of obliteration across the area. The force alone uprooted the entire terrain, a colossal shockwave expanding outward with such force that even the distant landscapes suffered its wrath.
Grimm gave a single cleave, his blade descended. One stroke, the wave was split in two.
The raw energy was bisected cleanly, the halves of the devastation veering harmlessly away from Grimm's form, their power dispersing into the distant horizon as if they had never been unleashed at all. The battlefield, however, suffered. The already-scarred land had been gouged apart beyond recognition.
"Very well." Grimm He tilted his weapon ever so slightly, his grip as relaxed as ever. "I shall take it easy on you both. I shall only use basic elements."
The atmosphere grew more tense. Lilith's pulse quickened, her instincts screaming at her. Reylthorn's breathing became measured, his mind already racing to counter whatever was to come.
Because if what Grimm had just demonstrated was not 'basic' to him…
He snapped his fingers.
A sound so simple, so utterly insignificant in its casualness, yet it sent an invisible tremor rippling through the area. It was not a grand incantation, nor an elaborate gesture—it was effortless, the world obeyed.
Above.
From the torn skies an immense pillar of white fire descended. It did not merely fall—it plummeted, a lance of destruction, surging downward. The sky seemed to rupture as it was consumed by the blaze, the intensity of the descending fire eradicating all color from the world. It was a pristine white, untainted by any other hue, yet there was something utterly nightmarish about its purity. It was not a flame born from nature. It was not fire as it was meant to exist.
It was an element so absolute, so refined, that even reality seemed to recoil from its presence.
The atmosphere detonated the moment the pillar of fire began its descent, an all-consuming shockwave tearing through the area. The land below fractured instantly, entire rock formations and remnants of mountains collapsing as the gravitational force of the flames' approach compressed the world beneath it.
The temperature caused the air to ignite.
The battlefield boiled. The surrounding land, already reduced to scorched ruin, began to liquefy, the stones and debris melting into a blinding lake of searing gold. The oppressive pressure from the descending fire drove everything downward, forcing even the air to collapse under it.
And then the fire hit.
The moment of impact was catastrophic beyond reckoning, the collision was not an explosion—it was an eradication.
The instant the pillar of flames struck, it sent a colossal, searing shockwave hurtling across the land. Entire miles of terrain were obliterated in an instant, the impact force alone reducing all structures, rock formations, and broken remnants into nothingness.
The earth was no longer solid.
It had become a superheated, converged with obliterated matter, Lilith had acted in that single instant, before the flames fully consumed them.
She lunged forward, grabbing Reylthorn without hesitation, pulling him in close as she raised both hands skyward.
A colossal dome of translucent black erupted to life around them, a titanic sphere forged in absolute desperation. The barrier surged outward with blinding speed, its edges pulsating as it fought to hold against the wrath of Grimm's attack.
The flames struck.
And the world screamed.
The barrier buckled instantly, the force of the impact sending earthquakes rippling outward, the ground outside the barrier was erased, crumbling away into nothingness as the surrounding landscape ceased to exist.
Inside the barrier Lilith's body trembled violently, the pressure from the impact was unbearable.
The weight of the flames pressed against her shield like an unstoppable tidal wave, forcing her to her knees. The heat—it was not mere fire. It was a devouring force, one that sought to consume all it touched. Her bones groaned under the immense strain, her skin blistering from the overwhelming temperature despite the protection of the barrier.
Her hands, still raised, shook uncontrollably. Sweat evaporated the instant it formed, her lungs burned from the mere act of breathing.
Reylthorn, still held close within her grasp, looked at her and his expression faltered.
"Lilith…" His voice, usually steady, carried an edge of genuine concern, the barrier cracked.
A single, thin fracture snaked across its surface, spreading outward. Teleportation wasn't an option with the fire spread so wide, she had to endure.
Lilith clenched her teeth. ("No. Not yet. Not here. I-I won't falter with Reylthorn here!")
She would not fall, she would not break.
And yet her strength was slipping. The flames continued pressing downward, the barrier was splintering, its integrity failing beneath the colossal weight of the onslaught.
Another crack, then another.
However before the destruction engulfed them—
A sound.
Soft an ethereal.
A delicate resonance that should not have existed amidst the carnage, the sound of a harp.
The gentle, resonant plucking of strings, distant yet piercing through the destruction like a light through absolute darkness. It was an impossibility, a sound so beautiful, so out of place in this infernal battleground, and yet—
It reached them.
Lilith's body surged with newfound power.
Strength beyond reason flooded her limbs, her once-exhausted muscles renewed with vigor. The pain, the heat, the suffocating weight of Grimm's fire—all of it was overpowered in an instant.
Her blue eyes ignited, with a single, resounding roar, she thrust her arms forward and a titanic shockwave erupted from her form. A pure wave of force surged outward, clashing violently against the descending fire with enough power to send tectonic plates trembling.
The flames, once insurmountable, were pushed back. It was repelled—hurled back into the skies from whence it came. The barrier held—no, it did more than hold. It expanded outward, forcing the residual fire to scatter.
They had survived.
Lilith and Reylthorn, still catching their breath, slowly turned, their eyes locking onto the one who had aided them.
And beyond the fading embers, there she was—
"S-Sorry I was so late..."
The words drifted forth, almost meek.
Isabella hovered, her Arcane Ascendance form outlined against the charred sky. Her enormous golden harp was held firmly in her grasp, its strings still humming.
The way she floated, so slightly unsure—made it painfully clear she hadn't expected to stumble into such annihilation.
"I was following Lady Lyra," she admitted, her soft voice tinged with sheepishness, eyes darting. "But... I lost track of her." Her gaze flickered over to the two siblings before finally settling on the titanic presence that loomed beyond them.
And there he stood—
Grimm.
("He's from that time...") Her mind flashed back to Vel'ryr, when she and Lyraeth had stormed the lab.
The weight of his gaze still sent a chill racing down Isabella's spine, but she refused to flinch. She swallowed the lump in her throat, her fingers tightening around her harp.
Reylthorn, however, was far less impressed.
"Of all the people who could've saved us..." he exhaled sharply, dragging a weary hand down his face. His voice, laced with equal parts relief and exasperation, trembled on the edge of outright disbelief.
"...it was a novice like you?"
A sharp, resounding slap echoed through the area as Lilith—without hesitation—smacked her younger brother directly on the back of the head.
Hard.
Reylthorn stumbled forward slightly, clutching his skull as if she had just caved in part of his existence.
"OW—WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT FOR?!"
Lilith shot him a withering glare.
"Now's not the time to be a brat." Her voice was chiding. "If she hadn't shown up, we'd be dust right now. So show some gratitude before I plant you into what's left of the ground."
Reylthorn scowled, rubbing the growing welt on his head, but wisely held his tongue.
Isabella, meanwhile, nodded softly, floating toward them.
"I never expected the two of you to struggle so much..." she murmured, eyes flickering between them before trailing back to Grimm's form. The immensity of his presence sent a wave of unease crawling up her spine. He wasn't just strong. He was something else entirely. ("An existence like that Ancestor...")
Lilith inhaled deeply before speaking, her voice grim, uncharacteristically heavy.
"Isabella... since this is your first festival, I need to tell you something."
The seriousness in her tone was palpable, enough that it stopped Isabella cold. Lilith was always confident. Always. Yet now now, she looked tense.
Her stance was rigid, her fingers curled, ever so slightly, as if bracing for something inescapable.
"This man," she continued, her gaze never once breaking from Grimm's towering form, "will not hesitate."
Lilith exhaled.
"He will aim to kill us."
The words hung in the air, she broke.
It was subtle, but Isabella saw it—the slight tremor in Lilith's fingers, the stiffness in her shoulders, the weight pressing against her lungs.
Lilith. Afraid.
"If you want to back out," she said, her voice quieter now, almost pleading, "do it now."
Isabella's heartbeat pounded. There was a moment—just a moment—where she felt the urge to hesitate, to consider the reality of the situation, to grasp just how overwhelmingly outmatched they were.
And then she crushed that hesitation beneath her heel.
"No." The defiance in her voice was immediate.
Reylthorn and Lilith blinked.
Isabella's grip on her harp tightened.
"I've been running away too much," she admitted, her gaze burning. "And I refuse to keep doing it. This won't be the first time I've faced Death. So please—" Her voice softened, but her resolve did not. "—be at ease. I will do my best to support you."
Lilith smiled.
It wasn't just gratitude—it was relief.
"Very well," she finally said, nodding, her earlier tension melting into something far stronger—something akin to camaraderie. "Then please, lend us your power, Isabella."
The three Inheritors stood together.
Across from them, Grimm shook his head.
"Oh?" He tilted his head, resting one hand lazily on the hilt of his sword. "A trio now, is it? Very well, then."
He hummed.
"Try to keep up with me a little longer."