Epilogue: Greetings from Destiny

Early winter had arrived, wrapping the land of Hermetica in a blanket of frost.

The brutal war that had swept across this land two months prior—a conflict rare even in the vast expanse of history—had broken the ancient city's final spine. Even with the Knights Templar pouring boundless resources into its life support, a pervasive desolation still lingered everywhere one looked.

The glory of the past had vanished; only the Evil God slumbered on, deep beneath the earth.

Emile felt no surprise at this.

To be precise, mortal affairs could rarely touch her soul.

Lucifel.

She had come solely for that Light of Lights.

Yet... what a profound pity. It seemed she had arrived too late. Neither the ruins to which Hermetica had been reduced, nor the heavily tampered lines of causality woven through this place, retained any trace of his existence.

Disappointment?

A human might experience a similar emotion, but she did not. When matters did not pertain to "him," she was always utterly detached, always thoroughly rational.

Before setting out, she had actually foreseen this outcome.

She had learned a painful, indelible lesson years ago when she first descended into this realm, realizing the terrifying extent of power wielded by those who had usurped the Sovereign's authority in the world they had forged. Even she, devoid of the conventional concept of "death," had suffered foundational damage in that sudden clash, forcing her to conceal herself within the Church's city of Canaan, licking her wounds while waiting for "him" to reappear.

Thus, upon stepping beyond the territories shrouded by Augustus's dominion, she had been compelled to fold her wings, treading through the loathsome darkness just like any ordinary mortal.

The journey from Canaan to Hermetica was exceedingly long, requiring her to cross several high-risk zones leaking chaotic energy. Even for a non-human entity like her, possessing an inherent nature far surpassing humanity, it had taken a full two months to arrive, all without disturbing the fabric of the laws or unleashing transcendent-tier power.

Yet by the time she reached her destination, the traces of that superhuman battle had been thoroughly erased.

Using the birth of Hermetica's flame as both starting point and end, time had been artificially fractured.

Through reading history, she could witness humanity's stubborn and terrifying resilience in the wake of disaster. She could perceive the knight who inherited the blood of the traitor resting here with an ominous black steed, and she could discern the dense, intricate threads of destiny hovering above this ruined city, striving to rebuild from the ashes.

Still very new—

She pressed her lips together slightly, her deep black pupils sweeping across the bustling crowd of pedestrians before her.

Then, she resumed her stride.

Housing barely a few thousand souls now, Hermetica was far more withered than in days past, yet the morning market trading daily necessities remained largely unaffected. Judging solely by this particular location at this specific hour, one would never guess the devastating blows this ancient, suffering city had endured.

And yet, the bustling crowds and flowing streetscape existed in an entirely different world from the one she inhabited.

Her slender posture, raven-black hair falling softly against her ears, jet-black pupils as dazzling as the stars, coupled with a perfect visage surpassing any work of art and an ethereal, transcendent nobility—these traits were enough to evoke involuntary gasps of awe from anyone who chanced to notice her.

Alas... this beauty was destined to be unappreciated.

Even standing amidst the bustling marketplace, an invisible boundary separated the human from the non-human.

She had no intention of interfering with this world, nor did she harbor any malice toward mankind.

Had it not been for Lucifel's uniqueness, she would never have set foot here. In truth, her descent into this wretched world was not to instigate a war against the abyss, nor did she intend to pass judgment on the pathetic wretches clinging to survival from a bygone era.

Her objective was singular: to find that man.

—The man who had betrayed her.

Hatred? Aversion?

Emile was not human; therefore, she lacked the negative emotions natural to mankind.

A significant reason she persistently tracked his footsteps was the Sovereign's decree, while the remainder stemmed from... her desire to hear him explain the reasons for his betrayal with his own lips.

Ultimately, she still cared for him.

That man was simultaneously her child and her father, her elder brother and her younger brother, as well as her fated lover.

Her feelings for him transcended mortal romance, extending far beyond the mere boundaries of "love."

He was her everything.

She was equally prepared to forsake everything for his sake.

After all, she had come into this world for him; if she was an angel, she was an angel belonging to him alone.

Yet that man had betrayed everything, effortlessly casting aside a happiness that had once been within his grasp, plunging headlong and irreversibly into the desperate abyss.

Because of this, she had come here—to the endless abyss lying beyond the Sovereign's authority, a realm forbidden from prying eyes.

Something other than humanity resided here—

Ironically, those apostates who had usurped the Sovereign's power remained utterly oblivious to this fact.

Emile was a winged being born of the new era, harboring no superfluous sympathy for humanity, and she knew little of the second upheaval that had shaken the entire world. The primary reason she sought the Light of Lights—symbolizing dawn and morning—was that she harbored questions demanding answers, answers from the most ancient, the most primordial... prototype.

It seemed, however, that the opportunity had slipped away.

The maiden's limpid gaze swept once more over the dense web of destiny threads spanning the firmament. Without a doubt, a weaver of destiny lurked within the ruins of Hermetica.

Unless absolutely necessary, she had no intention of entangling herself in this intricate quagmire.

Consequently, she would not linger long in Hermetica.

Having no desire to return to Canaan of the Church, the young winged being intended to continue tracking that fellow's trail. She was certain he was hiding somewhere in this turbid world where chaos and order intertwined, coveting the secrets buried here. As the first—and perhaps the only—human to cross that door, he must surely find what he craved within this world.

Having squandered years due to a moment of carelessness, this time... she refused to lose his trail again.

Walking as though alone in the world, Emile finally traversed Hermetica's market, stepping beyond its bustling districts. When not a single other soul remained visible within the frosty ruins, she abruptly halted, her dark gaze locking onto the girl who had tailed her the entire way.

Flames and destiny intertwined—

With a single glance, she identified the identity of the pursuer.

Her pupils constricted involuntarily.

She saw it—

—A rose-colored gun barrel spitting brilliant fire, the bullet inscribed with the truths of this world scraping against the rifling.

"Rather than making friends through artillery," came the greeting from the local ruler of Hermetica, striking straight to the depths of the soul, "I certainly prefer... starting with a full ten-tenths health bar as a sign of friendship."

Following closely behind was the blooming of a crimson flower of blood.

Impossible to dodge, utterly futile to block; this greeting from destiny afforded no opportunity for refusal.

—Such is destiny.

—Whether turning left or right, all paths lead to destiny.

"You are..." The interrupted words did not cease despite the pain, even as crimson blood stained her immaculate white feathers. The winged being's noble and serene countenance remained as indifferent as ever. "...The Fire Thief."

Then came a deafening *bang*, the gunshot shattering the quiet of Hermetica.

And rousing a sky full of scattered feathers.