In the outskirts of the city, there stood a forgotten, abandoned warehouse, lingering like a solitary island left behind by time, silently enduring its decay amidst desolation.
Moonlight slipped through gaps between drifting clouds, piercing through a massive hole in the roof like a silver sword, becoming the warehouse's sole source of illumination and cutting sharply through darkness so dense it seemed almost solid.
Compared to the other side's comfortable living conditions, here there were no air conditioners, no cozy heaters, no soft, warm bedding, no cafeteria serving three meals a day—only darkness and ruin.
A faint spark of flame suddenly lit up in the shadows—Blitz Talker lit a cigarette for himself.
The sharp scent of nicotine rushed straight into his lungs. If Blitz Talker absolutely had to choose a reason to fight for this world, this would probably be it. If the world were destroyed, he'd never be able to smoke these cigarettes again.
"You really don't fit this darkness at all… So bright, it hurts the eyes."
Blitz Talker squinted slightly at the approaching figure.
When she appeared, everything around seemed to brighten, like a rising sun breaking the dawn.
Through a cloud of smoke, Blitz Talker cast a cold glance toward Alicetaria, his magnetic voice echoing clearly in the silence.
"You don't look very happy. Seems like you failed?"
"…Indeed, I forced him to alter my world. If that man truly was the Creator of my world, the god who created everything, his power should have made my world better…but nothing changed. I couldn't even return to my own world."
Alicetaria's eyes flared momentarily with blazing intensity, like a golden sun rising to fill the sky. Perhaps it was his imagination, but Blitz Talker felt even the cold winter wind wasn't as biting as before.
"Is it because of a lack of Recognition?"
Knowing the cause allowed Alicetaria to remain calm as she was now.
Although similarly driven by a desire to save her nation, Alicetaria was far more obsessive and fanatical than a certain ahoge-wielding king—referring here, of course, to Blue Saber, not Saber Alter.
Alicetaria's gaze turned sharply toward Blitz Talker, her voice icy. "And you? That woman was your Creator, right? Don't you have anything you wish to achieve through her?"
"I'm not like you, Miss Knight. Saving or protecting things is far too luxurious for someone like me—a filthy bounty hunter. After spending my whole life bent low, sneaking through shadows, learning to straighten up and look toward the light is harder than you'd imagine."
"I've long lost the right to dream. Nothing could be crueler than regaining it."
"The only reason I took that woman was to see what sort of person the god who made my world is."
Hidden in the shadows, a third person listened to their entire conversation.
"Creators, huh… Speaking of which, wasn't my Creator there too?"
"You've become interested in your Creator now?"
Blitz Talker looked up at the speaker. "What a shame. We only took Creators connected directly to ourselves, and since you hadn't joined us at the time, we let yours go."
"Ha! Not like I really care. Compared to some Creator, I'm way more interested in Yūya… that bastard. He's definitely over on the other side, right?"
The speaker was a young man—chestnut hair bound by a deep blue headband, a dark sleeveless jacket worn over his red hooded sweatshirt, and silver rings adorning all ten fingers.
"Grudges between a protagonist and a final boss? I don't really care about stuff like that. Still, I should remind you: we have a common enemy with the other side… so, if you decide to kill someone, don't expect us to help you out."
"Heh, that's good enough for me."
The protagonist of Exclusive Underground -Dark Night-, Hakua Shō, grinned broadly. "I'll definitely take that bastard Yūya down personally… he needs to pay for everything he's done!"
His gaze was sharp, icy cold, blazing fiercely with hatred.
"It matters not if each of you has your own goals or dreams. As long as you gather around me and lend me your strength, I'll regard you as my allies—and grant you the right to fulfill your wishes."
Altair sat leisurely on a sofa in the center of the warehouse, her lips curled faintly in a barely perceptible smile.
"No need to worry, Alicetaria-dono. The change you yearn for will surely come. Once I welcome Master back, even without the approval of gods, you'll still be able to save your nation. Having seen Master's power firsthand, surely you harbor no doubt?"
Golden eyes fixed upon Altair's own. Alicetaria remained silent for a moment, then spoke in a resolute, unwavering tone.
"I will definitely save my nation from war. I must repel the forces of Unterwelt and retake the Five Great Cities. My resolve will never lose to anyone."
"Compared to those cruel gods who create hellish worlds simply for amusement, perhaps you and your Master are more suitable."
"A wise decision, Alicetaria-dono."
Altair's eyes deepened slightly, her smile becoming more genuine, perhaps pleased by Alicetaria's praise of her Master.
"Let's skip heroic slogans about saving the world. I'm no hero or brave warrior—just a bounty hunter, nothing more."
Blitz Talker loaded bullets into his revolver, speaking with cold detachment and a complete lack of enthusiasm.
"It's just another job for me, nothing special."
"I came because I heard Yūya's on their side."
Hakua Shō rested his staff casually across his shoulder, expressionless. "Still, it's true I can't just sit by and watch those monsters slaughter innocents or destroy the world… I'll lend a hand, so long as it doesn't interfere with getting revenge on Yūya."
Meanwhile, Mamika Kirameki lingered silently in a remote corner, never saying a word, quietly watching them, her expression complex, full of turmoil and hesitation.
Altair slowly closed her eyes, showing a satisfied smile.
"At last, all the actors have assembled. I can feel it—the world's corrective force restraining my Holopsicon has weakened significantly."
"Yes, everyone, the moment has finally arrived. No longer need we wait—let us embark upon the pilgrimage to salvation."
…
Shimazaki Yuna slowly opened her eyes, brows gently furrowing, an unusual gleam flashing briefly in her pupils.
"Can it no longer be delayed?"
She murmured softly to herself. "Although waiting a bit longer would make things more certain… after all, not everything can go exactly as I desire."
Shimazaki Yuna sat before a desk—Van Gogh's desk—stacked neatly with paintings Van Gogh had made that day, carefully organized by Yuna herself.
These paintings absolutely mustn't be seen by others; something terrible would happen if they were. The world was chaotic and mad enough as it was—she couldn't afford to give "them" any further openings.
Van Gogh lay on the bed nearby, sleeping soundly. Her peaceful, adorable sleeping face made Yuna reluctant to disturb her dreams.
Shimazaki Yuna looked at Van Gogh deeply for a long moment, but said nothing.
In the dim room, only the faint glow of a desk lamp illuminated her. Beneath Shimazaki Yuna's feet, a shadow much darker and deeper than its surroundings stirred restlessly, slowly stretching outward into the distance.
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