The very moment Helen stepped in, Kinhoale launched a frontal attack. But Helen was not there to fight— she had come to destroy. To destroy Kinhoale's heart and end all Maguses who still lived by its power.
Before any of the vines could reach her, Helen released a terrifying killing intent. It shielded both her and the Martins, shattering all that came before.
Yet Kinhoale did not relent. It continued its relentless assault, while masking the location of its true body. Binding, diversion, calls to the heart— none of it moved Helen. She marched forward, unyielding.
Kinhoale began to grow desperate. And in its desperation, it made a mistake— a mistake that would doom it.
'Austin, Austin, Austin, please help. If I die, so do you and the others.'
'Stop. Sever this communication link now before she notices.'
'She has no heart, she can't trace. Please, just help me.'
'Quite. Be quiet. Helen is a trained hunter from birth—she tracks anything. She surpasses all predecessors when it comes to the hunt. And you think without a real heart she can't understand and trace its words? Now cut it this instant.'
Immediately, Kinhoale severed her communication with Austin. The only thing it could do was attempt to lead Helen astray, hoping she would eventually give up or tire.
But the moment the link was cut, Helen stopped in her tracks. She turned to the side, altering her path. From then on, she marched that route, unwavering. Whatever Kinhoale tried, it could not change her course.
And before they knew it, they all stood before a willow tree, at the centre of a beautiful meadow of flowers. There, revealed at last, was the main body of Kinhoale.
"I must congratulate you, Avatar. For you are the first among all to reach here, where none had ever. Though they tried all they could, only to perish in despair, while their very souls remain in Limbo…"
As Kinhoale tried its best to remain calm before Helen, it began to formulate a plan with Austin. Without concern, of it been found out.
'Austin, listen well.'
'What are you doing? She can hear you.'
'That doesn't matter anymore. Look where you are standing—right there is my root. I may not be able to fully utilise my power, but you can. Isn't it why you searched for the gates and the key? I'll be your power source, making you a temporary Prime Being. You might even become a true Prime Being. Use me as much as you need. We must end her here and now, else…'
'I know. Do it, do it now.'
However, before Kinhoale could do anything, Helen spoke. The first words she had said after arriving.
"Wintervile; Slow, Isolate."
Wintervile's shaft turned once, twice, thrice— and the world itself faltered. Time began to slow. The flutter of wings froze mid‑air, vines and roots halted in mid‑strike, and the Martins' march stretched into endless, dragging steps. Breaths became heavy echoes, and even the fall of leaves and wood lingered, suspended as though eternity had claimed it.
Yet Helen and Kinhoale remained untouched. They moved freely, watching the distorted world around them collapse into sluggish fragments.
Panic rose in Kinhoale's voice, though it tried desperately to remain calm.
"What have you done, Avatar?"
Helen replied, her voice hollow, yet resolute, "As I am now, I yearn for battle, yet I am a hunter. A hunter must never play with its prey. However, a hunter must give its prey a semblance of hope before completely shattering it.
I would have preferred the latter, but a newly born Prime Being is just a child. I am not here to battle a child. I am here to end you."
"End me, you say," Kinhoale spoke tauntingly. "Do you have all your ingredients, Avatar? Austin had fifteen children—you left one, and three remain at large. Get your ingredients right before coming, Avatar."
"A hunter must always know its prey, and always be prepared.
None—including you, Austin, the Gods, and the Deities— consider the child of essence, Alexander, to be his. The three remain of no concern.
Wintervile; Freez, Conscious, Flow."
Wintervile's shaft turned once, twice, thrice, and a fourth. Thin, invisible ice crept across Kinhoale's body, encasing it completely— frozen, yet conscious.
Time flowed once more. Vines and roots halted mid‑strike, falling with a heavy thud. The Martins resumed their march, their steps echoing in the meadow.
Yet even in the suspended world, Austin and his wives could still see all that transpired— but they heard none of it. The moment time resumed its flow, Austin desperately tried to contact Kinhoale. But there was no response. Whatever he did, only serene silence returned.
"Do not waste your effort, Austin. My time is far spent.
HALT."
They all stopped, inches away from Kinhoale.
"Children, how many of you are?"
A heavy quietness reigned. No one dared answer.
Helen continued, her tone cutting through the silence, "I see. Some are gone, some are delusional. While others gave answers— one says twelve, another fourteen, or fifteen.
Quite the answers you gave."
Her gaze shifted, piercing four in particular.
"You didn't tell them, did you? But that's of no matter. After all, I wouldn't be here if I hadn't done away with those three.
Here they are."
Helen drew three wooden figurine dolls from her spatial bracelet, each carved with uncanny life‑like detail, as though they had once been living. Two bore the form of beastmen, the third an elf.
Upon seeing the dolls, Austin and his wives finally understood. All things had fallen into place.
The figures slipped from Helen's hands. The moment they touched the ground, they knew— they all knew. Their deaths were set. Their fates completely sealed.
"All eighteen are here. Do you have any last words, Austin Martin?"
Helen released the silent command that bound him.
"If you go ahead, note that you won't only be ending the Martins, but all those who knelt before Kinhoale— the Spawns of Kinhoale."
"The Magus as a race is meant to be extinct. Yet some gained longevity and roam the worlds. This is just natural order being corrected."
Helen's words sank deep, but Austin carried a flicker of hope. He knew—even though the Nul Tresix and Deity Tersiz had not claimed the Spawns of Kinhoale— the God Teleute would. And in that sense, he had made preparations.
"Teleute sent you through Cyrius, however she is far too late. Teleute is death, and I had always known she would come for me. But did Tresix and Tersiz approve of it? End us, put an end to Kinhoale— However, can you bear the resulting Causality?"
"Your contract with those two was taken into consideration."
At her words, two pieces of paper materialised.
"The Goddess had an extensive conversation with both. Do not worry about your contract."
The papers burst into flames, burning into complete ash.
"Do not also be concerned over the causality. The Goddess Teleute has already cancelled it out."
Austin's voice began to break, "This can't be... It cannot be."
"Yet it is. You aim to become a Prime Being, a Nul. Yet you and all Magus reached the threshold, but never crossed the line. Those meant to be extinct can never gain true longevity."
With a sharp turn, Helen struck Kinhoale, driving Wintervile's shaft into its heart. Kinhoale's consciousness screamed in pain— but none heard it, none could hear.
Helen twisted the handle clockwise, then struck the pommel.
"My work here is done."
She began to walk away as Wintervile's handle slowly turned back. Austin shouted, pleaded, tried to stop her— but Helen paid no heed. Her figure disappeared into the thick forest, step by step, until noon was over and darkness spread, the last rays of light vanishing into shadow.
Stepping out, the cracks in space began to collapse. Reality folded upon itself.
The moment Helen crossed the fractured boundary, Wintervile's handle completed its rotation, returning to its original state. The pommel shot upward, releasing all its stored causality accumulated over countless cycles.
Wintervile imploded into a singularity, dragging and collapsing all into one.
From the heart of Kinhoale, to its sprawling body, to the Martins themselves, the entire space folded inward, pulled inexorably toward the singularity point. Everything fell— the vines, the roots, the meadow, the willow, all swallowed into that infinite collapse.
And in that moment, Kinhoale and its Spawns were no more. Their existence ended, their legacy erased, consumed by the singularity's silent maw.
Across the plane and worlds beyond, people began to drop dead. Both great and small, strong and weak, powerful and powerless, rich and poor, miserable and joyful— all came to an end.
Their hearts, which had beat for untold years, finally stopped. Souls long imprisoned within immortal bodies were freed. Those who had fallen asleep, never to awake, were granted true rest at last.
All the Maguses, and their lovers bound by the blessing and curse of Kinhoale, could now pass on to a new life…
Or could they?