The pure white wings radiated a sacred brilliance as Miku Izayoi lifted her head and began to sing the hymn once revered in the world of Guilty Crown.
I come from chance,
Like a speck of dust,
Can anyone see how fragile I am...
This song—sung by an entire world—was said to possess mysterious power when voiced by Miku Izayoi: the power of purification.
It could cleanse the soul. So long as a person retained even a spark of conscience, the goodness in their heart would be awakened.
Where do I come from?
Where will my feelings go?
Who will call for me in the next moment...
"Uu..." Soft sobs began to rise from the crowd as Miku's ethereal voice unearthed countless buried memories within their hearts.
They remembered the plaza in the Town of Beginnings—how everyone had once been shrouded in pain and despair.
Then, Kimi-nee had appeared, radiant with hope, and promised them all with a confident smile: "Hmm... foolish brothers and sisters, let your elder sister save you!"
The more they remembered, the louder their cries became. How many times, in moments of loneliness and despair, had Kimi-nee's smile warmed their hearts? How many times had they taken solace in her voice when they wept?
How could they have forgotten something so important?
"To defeat the bosses, to prove this game can be cleared—that's my duty as your elder sister."
One by one, those memories returned, blending into a sea of weeping. Miku's celestial song only grew more moving—the sacred hymn cleansing their hearts like divine guidance.
Though the world is vast,
The road I walk is steep,
I've seen the struggles of this mortal world...
"Kimi-nee! We're sorry!" Waves of players fell to their knees, sobbing uncontrollably.
They remembered—everything.
The countless lonely nights spent under their blankets, clutching Kimi-nee's guidebook as they drifted to sleep.
The countless prayers they'd whispered, hoping that their beloved Kimi-nee, who fought alone on the front lines, would return safely.
"I'm not even human!" Many players knelt, pounding their heads with their fists, howling in anguish.
When had they become so terrified of death?
"Kimi-nee... I'm sorry!" they cried, weeping with unbearable remorse.
All their forgotten emotions returned—the admiration, the reverence, the countless moments of devotion.
Clap, clap... Soft applause echoed from above. Though faint, the sound was clear in everyone's ears.
They looked up. In the sky, Kayaba Akihiko stood in his white lab coat, clapping his hands. "Impressive. In an instant, you turned the enemy's forces into your own allies. A flawless reversal—a true salvation of the world."
"Kayaba Akihiko, you bastard! Come at us yourself! Stop trying to manipulate us into hurting Kimi-nee!"
"Spit! Scum! You can't use us anymore—we'll never harm Kimi-nee again!"
"Go to hell, Kayaba! Just die already!"
Thousands of players shouted and cursed, their fury rising like a storm. Kayaba stood amidst the sea of outrage, enduring the roar of their hatred.
"You're all useless now," he said calmly. "Those who still possess humanity will be swayed by compassion. To defeat Tokisaki Kurumi... we'll need monsters devoid of it."
With a wave of his hand, hundreds of black cages appeared in the sky.
The cages opened—and hundreds of players with crimson names emerged. All of them wore dark sunglasses; after months imprisoned in the void, direct exposure to light would blind them.
"Kill Tokisaki Kurumi," Kayaba said with a cold smile. "And I'll grant you freedom... and light."
The red-name players descended to the ground in perfect formation. An icy stillness emanated from them, the oppressive aura of solitude gathering into a vast shadow—like that of a demon lord ready to end the world. Each one, faceless behind their glasses, was a death god without emotion.
"From eternal solitude and darkness are such reapers born. They are the embodiment of the abyss... yet still, like moths, they chase after the light."
Even Kayaba's smile faltered as he faced the pressure of their presence. A cold sweat trickled down his neck.
When Kurumi had once locked the red-name players in the black chamber, Kayaba Akihiko hadn't cared much. But months later, when he opened that chamber again, what emerged were not men—but demons returned from hell.
"Kimi-nee will be protected by us! We won't let anyone hurt her again!" The players who had been attacking Madoka turned in unison, pointing their swords at the red-name players.
Step... step... Without a word or a sound, hundreds of red-name players marched forward—their steps echoing like the tread of death itself.
Steel clashed in a frenzy—no defense, only ruthless offense. Every swing drew blood. These red-name players were machines without emotion, cutting through the crowd like blades through flesh, advancing steadily toward Madoka.
"Kimi-nee! I'll protect Kimi-nee!" one player cried, tears streaming down his face, blood pouring from his wounds. One by one, players fell beneath the blades of the red-names.
Miku Izayoi continued to sing—again and again, her voice trembling with sorrow.
How much love do I still have?
How many tears remain?
Let the heavens know—
I will not yield...
No one even noticed anymore why they were bleeding, or why the pain felt so real. They had only one thought left—to stop the red-names at any cost.
"Hahaha... what's so scary about dying? Even if I die, I won't let you hurt Kimi-nee! She belongs to us to protect!" Blood gushed from his chest; tears and snot mixed as he clung desperately to a red-name's leg, refusing to let him advance.
Slash! The sword struck down. His eyes dimmed as life faded. Yet, even as he died, one thought remained in his heart. With his final breath, he forced the words out: "Kimi-nee... I'm sorry..."
His tears fell—and the last sound he heard was a voice of warmth and song.
With a thankful heart,
I thank you for being here,
Walking beside me through this life,
Giving me the courage to be myself...
"In this life, I am the flower upon the highest peak. When one flower falls, all others wither."
Kimi-nee's final, resounding melody echoed within every player's mind.
"Kimi-nee... you truly are the most beautiful Takamine flower."
His eyes dimmed completely, and his final thought was sorrow—knowing no one could stop the march of death.
The red-name players pressed forward, step by step toward Madoka. Numbers meant nothing before such monsters.
To kill one was to kill all. Players fell like fields of grass before the scythe—each cut leaving corpses or cripples in its wake.
Blood flowed freely. The blue Tonbokiri touched the blood, glowing with a sinister, alluring light.
High above, Kayaba Akihiko's expression twisted into an exhilarated grin. "It's here... it's happening. With oceans of blood, with songs of sorrow—with trembling souls and their emotions as the sacrifice—forge the mightiest of weapons... the Logismoi Óplo."
The Logismoi Óplo—a weapon forged upon the foundation of the soul, nourished by emotion, and burdened with immense sin. The ultimate armament.
Everything led to this moment: to forge the Divine Weapon Tonbokiri into a Logismoi Óplo—the supreme treasure.
This was the 100th floor, the final stage that Kurumi herself had entered—where every player would weave their life and emotions into the eternal "Ballad of Blood and Tears."