Alfia's eyes fluttered open. She caught it instantly, the familiar trace hidden within those fireworks. Her lips curved into the faintest smile, elegant and unhurried.
"This firework is interesting. The other evil gods might very well throw a fit."
Her crimson lips curled, showing a hint of amusement. "Besides, it seems it was that child again."
"Akira, was it?" Erebus exaggeratedly rubbed at the corners of his eyes as though to wipe away tears.
His voice took on an overdone, melodramatic tone. "Really now, not even giving me the chance to shine. How cruel. I'm devastated."
Yet in truth, Erebus did not mind. His intent had always been to push mortals into the depths of despair, then watch as their rebellion erupted from within. If anything, this result simply piled on extra fuel: anger toward the evil god himself, and fighting spirit to drive him out. Two layers of resistance stacked together.
Even for a god who had existed for countless millennia, he could not have predicted such a clever response. A child's trick, yet devastatingly effective.
"Well, isn't this fine?" Erebus folded his arms and laughed softly, his tone carrying the same sort of wry smile as a forced expression.
"As expected of one blessed by the goddess of justice. That child has more than one way to turn the tide."
"Indeed." Zald gave a rare nod of agreement. "And I never would've imagined that a goddess like Astraea would dare to stand upon the battlefield herself. If it were my old man, he'd probably be hiding somewhere, trembling like a leaf."
Alfia's lips tightened at that remark, a cold snort escaping her. Her slender brows arched ever so slightly. She did not grace their banter with a reply. Instead, she turned gracefully and stepped away. Her departure was light, yet her presence carried a finality that silenced further jest.
Watching her back retreat, Erebus tilted his head. "Hm? Did I say something to anger her?"
Zald blinked, then his expression brightened as realization struck. "Ah, I see. She must've been displeased because we mentioned that the man she likes seems to be paired with another woman."
"Oh? So that's it?"
The two exchanged a look of tacit understanding and then both broke into mischievous smiles.
Later, the trio returned, only to find the other evil gods embroiled in heated discussion. They debated furiously about the four evil gods who had already been slain and forced to return to heaven.
The fact was undeniable: the only one capable of such deeds was Akira, who had been absent throughout the war.
The three once again felt a chill at his methods. Even Erebus himself, who had looked down upon mortals since the dawn of time, quietly made a note in his mind. This was not a child to provoke lightly. That boy truly had the audacity to send gods back to heaven.
Perhaps this night would be remembered as the longest in Orario's history.
...
White smoke rose, not incense for the gods, but a bitter haze that hung over the ruined streets like an unending dirge. Within that smoke swirled grief and hatred, pain and terror.
Familia. Friends. Partners. Lovers.
So many beloved lives had already turned to ashes, scattered and blown away, unreachable by any light.
Some broken survivors sat slumped upon the ground, their bodies trembling, their eyes hollow. They lacked even the strength to lift their heads. Despair crushed them at the thin line where night met morning.
Unlike adventurers, these common folk could not treat life and death as lightly. When confronted with the death of those dearest to them, all they could do was endure. To weep silently, to avoid becoming burdens to others.
Meanwhile, Evilus retreated like a tide, drawing back to the walls and outskirts of Orario. They no longer pressed their assault, merely standing in the shadows and casting venomous gazes toward the adventurers scurrying about the burning city.
Inside Orario, where the flames had at last been beaten down, the only sounds left were voices of desperation.
"Hurry! There are still people alive, help them!!"
Shakti's throat was raw from shouting, yet still she commanded. At her side, the battered Ganesha Familia and other exhausted factions pressed forward, wounded bodies straining to rescue whoever they could.
Asfi, clutching a magic tool as she helped dig through rubble, froze when she stumbled upon a pile of corpses deep within a collapsed house.
Her face twisted, and she shouted out with desperation, "Hurry! Healer! Is there a healer here? Someone, anyone!"
But healers were scarce. Magic capable of saving lives was rare even at the best of times, and now the sheer number of casualties had overwhelmed them all.
"Over here! Someone's under the debris!"
"You idiot! Call for a healer first in this situation!"
"I don't care if it's Dian Cecht or Miach, just get a healer here, now!"
The city rang with frantic cries.
Alise's voice cracked with desperation. Lyra bellowed with rage. Kaguya's cries echoed with reckless urgency.
In hastily raised tents across the streets, makeshift hospitals were already overcrowded with wounded. Smoke, blood, and sweat filled the air.
The members of the Astraea Familia worked ceaselessly, their soot-stained faces grim, their hands never pausing as they pulled survivors from the wreckage and treated wounds.
Amidst it all, Akira spread his hands wide. From each finger, crimson threads shot forth, piercing into the battered bodies of the unconscious and gravely injured. Healing light surged through the blood threads, flowing into the broken vessels of flesh and bone, knitting together wounds that should have been fatal.
Those with lighter injuries were pushed aside for others to handle. Akira's hands were for the ones hovering on the brink, those whose breaths were about to stop.
Moments later, when he saw a dying man's expression soften, breath easing as color returned to his face, Akira did not pause. His voice rang out with command. "Next batch!"
"Send the gravely wounded deeper in. Less serious cases, bring them here first, I'll handle them."
"Stack the medical supplies there! Hurry!"
Maryuu, Noin, and the others rushed to his side, organizing the chaos into order. The battlefield of blood and fire became a battlefield of healing and desperate hope.
At the same time, Riveria, ignoring her own injuries. shouted, "Wait, Finn!"
"Riveria, you should be resting." Finn replied calmly. "The civilians come first. You haven't recovered yet, your wounds are still fresh."
"Who cares about that now? Compared to me, you mustn't be so reckless."
Even with gauze across her face and bandages wrapping her arms, Riveria pushed herself in front of him, voice full of urgency.
"It's too soon! I know this is an emergency, but you can't lose your judgment!"
Her words were more than objection, they were a desperate plea. She was begging Finn to retract the order he had just given.
But Finn's reply was cold, cutting like steel. "Who is it that's blinded by personal feelings, Riveria? We have no choice. You know that as well as I do."
Riveria clenched her fists, unable to refute him. He was right, painfully so. It was her who had lost composure.
"At this moment, you must cast aside the role of 'mother.' Do you understand?"
Riveria's face twisted when she heard that word. "But… she's still just a child—"
"She has more than enough experience fighting monsters. She's been taught every technique needed to battle humans. She is ready for real combat."
Without looking back, Finn brushed past her and continued forward.
"The enemy will attack again, sooner or later. Even one more sword is invaluable. If you wish to hate me, then wait until this is over."
The magic tools Akira had distributed gave them some measure of protection, but war allowed no promises. Accidents always came.
Finn walked straight toward the gate of the Tower of Babel. There, a girl sat waiting on the steps. Raul and his men surrounded her nervously, sweat dripping as they tried to reason with her.
She held a sheathed sword in her lap. Her small face brimmed with determination, fighting spirit burning in her eyes.
"Ais. Are you ready?"