042 gazed at the man before him. "What is your wish…?"
The moonlight was so bright, yet the man's face remained impossibly blurred in his eyes. 042 could not make out his features, as though a mass of viscous darkness had settled over them.
"What is my wish…?"
042 murmured the words, lowering his head. Reflected in the pool of blood was his own face, timid and uncertain.
"I… I don't know. How could I possibly know something like that?"
His voice began to sound strange, as though he were crying and laughing at the same time.
"You know what kind of person I am, don't you? I'm a blank slate. There's nothing I'm particularly passionate about, no grand dreams I've ever wanted to pursue."
"But there must be something that keeps you going, isn't there, 042? Otherwise, you wouldn't have come back for me without a second thought. You could have escaped on your own."
"Because we're friends! How could I abandon you?"
After a brief pause, 042's voice softened. It was a rare moment of respite. Everything seemed so peaceful that it was almost impossible not to let one's guard down.
"To be honest, I've always envied you a little. You have such grand ambitions… All of you do. Going to Old Dunling to become detectives, wiping out every last demon, ushering in a golden age. It all sounds wonderful."
042 seemed to be answering the man, yet at the same time, he was simply talking about himself.
"There was a time when I suffered over it, too. I wanted to become someone like you. But then, all of a sudden, I understood. I'm simply rather ordinary."
"Just like in all those stories, someone has to serve as the backdrop for the protagonists. One forgettable face after another, never remembered by the audience… And the truth is, I'm one of the audience, too. After all, only a handful of people ever get to stand on the stage."
"I'm just… just a little ordinary, that's all."
His voice faded into silence.
The man reached out and rested a hand on 042's shoulder.
"But you still came back for me, 042. You returned to Hell to bring me out. That's not something an audience member would do. The moment you appeared before me with that nail sword in your hand, you had already become the protagonist."
The man's gaze swept across the deck, over the countless corpses and the blood that had soaked the planks.
"Though I have to say, it's a pretty terrible stage."
The two of them could not help laughing. When their laughter finally subsided, the uncertainty in 042's eyes began to give way to resolve. He raised his head and looked up at the night sky, a sky unlike any he had ever seen in Florence.
"But if I had to name a wish… if I absolutely had to wish for something… I just want to live together with everyone. That's all."
042 spoke quietly.
"Like back then, when we used to wander the streets of Florence. Sometimes we went hungry, sometimes we managed to eat our fill, but those days were wonderful. Then we joined the Church of the Gospel, and after that… Well, hunting demons was always a little frightening, but knowing that we could all live together, that we had somewhere to shelter from the wind and rain, made it easier to bear."
"I just wanted things to stay the way they were. That simple, peaceful, beautiful life. But now it's all gone…"
Blazing flames had torn through the church, and the entire City of Seven Hills had descended into a nightmarish madness. Everything 042 had known was slipping away, mercilessly destroyed. As that madness consumed the world around him, one familiar face after another had died beneath his sword.
"If that was my wish, then it's already been destroyed. Everyone is dead. I killed them with my own hands…"
042 began to tremble uncontrollably. He could not tell whether it was fear or something else.
"Ah… this is awful. The truth is, right now… right now, I'm terrified. I feel so guilty. Do you understand?"
He lowered his head, unable to stop himself, and clawed at his own face with both hands.
"He had a chance. He really could have survived… But he let me live instead. I know what he was thinking. He wanted me to carry on doing what he had wanted to do. But… but I…"
042 muttered frantically, his eyes bloodshot.
"But can I really do it? What if I let him down? How could he entrust such a responsibility to someone like me…?"
Lloyd Medici. Could 042 ever measure up to that old man? Lloyd could have survived, yet he had chosen to let 042 climb out of that dry well. Should 042 go to Old Dunling and live out his days as an ordinary man, or should he shoulder the burden of bringing about the magnificent Golden Age Lloyd had dreamed of?
No. No, 042 couldn't do it. The responsibility was simply too much for him. He had always been a spectator, yet now he had been dragged onto the stage and shoved beneath the spotlight against his will.
Still, he could run away. He could choose to become an ordinary man. But would that mean betraying Lloyd Medici's final wishes, squandering the "miracle" of his survival on such a pitiful, laughable existence?
042 suddenly fell silent. And once he had calmed down, an even deeper despair swallowed him whole.
"The truth is… I've already failed."
He gave a bitter, twisted smile and stared at the enormous wound in his abdomen. No more blood was flowing from it. What seeped out now was molten holy silver. To fight the demon hunters who had succumbed to demonic corruption, he, too, had crossed the forbidden threshold.
The holy silver was steadily destroying his body, killing him from within.
042 had already failed. The thought filled him with guilt. All of Lloyd Medici's desperate efforts had done was buy him a little more time. And even if he somehow survived, he would only disappoint the old man, wouldn't he?
He was nothing more than a spectator cowering in the shadows. The glare of the stage lights frightened him. He had never truly intended to devote himself to the Golden Age. He had wanted to flee to Old Dunling and live a life that was the complete opposite of everything he had known.
But now he was going to die, too. Even that simple wish was beyond his reach.
042 was in agony. Faced with such pain, even the searing holy silver inside him seemed to have turned ice-cold.
"This is exhausting… Wishes, responsibilities, death…"
Countless thoughts surged through 042's mind. Like a nest of snakes, they hissed and writhed, coiling their icy bodies around every corner of his consciousness.
In the end, the anguish on his face gave way to indifference, as though he had become numb to everything.
"I wish I could become a stray dog. A stray dog wouldn't have to think about all this strange, ridiculous nonsense. It would just run around as much as it pleased, scavenge for food when it got hungry, drink from a river when it got thirsty, and curl up in whatever corner it found when it was tired. Then, one day, it would die for some utterly inexplicable reason, without ever really understanding anything…"
042's wish had shattered. Everything he had ever known had fallen apart on this burning night, and the jagged fragments had torn him to pieces.
"But you're still alive, aren't you? As long as you're alive, my wish hasn't truly come to an end. Even if you're the only one left to enjoy that beautiful life we dreamed of, you'll be fine. With your strength, you'll live well. You'll do even better than I ever could, won't you?"
Perhaps it was the succession of devastating blows, or perhaps it was the corruption eating away at him, but 042's gaze grew increasingly feverish. He looked at the man and asked with desperate hope.
It was such a simple, ridiculous, insignificant wish. There was no deep-seated hatred behind it, no lofty ambition. It was an utterly ordinary wish.
Yet fate, it seemed, was cruel enough to deny him even this most humble of desires.
The man answered with a trace of regret.
"Is that so? I'm afraid I'm going to disappoint you, though. It looks like I won't be making it to Old Dunling either."
He scratched his disheveled hair and tried to sound as casual as he could.
"Damn, aren't we unlucky? Looks like we're both going to die here."
He was heartbroken, but he still struggled to put on a smile, hoping to lighten the oppressive atmosphere, if only a little. The smile that emerged was horribly twisted.
"What… what are you talking about?"
042 stopped crying and stared at him in disbelief.
"I'm saying we're both going to die if this keeps up. Look at the state you're in. There's no way you can fight me once I've fully turned into a demon, is there?"
Beneath the patches of divine armor that had fallen away, blue veins bulged through the man's exposed skin. His bones had twisted out of shape, piercing through the flesh. It was as though some monstrous creature lay concealed beneath his skin, and it would soon tear its way out of his body and descend upon the world.
The man was dying. In the Stilled Sanctuary, he had come face-to-face with the false Holy Grail that had triggered the Night of the Advent. The corruption should have consumed him then and there. Yet perhaps through some stubborn quirk of human will, he had managed to hold on until now.
The darkness veiling his face gradually dispersed, revealing skin as pale as that of a corpse.
042 stared blankly for a moment. Then his impassive expression twisted, his face contorting with something that might have been rage, or grief.
"No. No, you can't die, 047! You're not like me!"
042 seized 047 with both hands.
047 could not die. He was different. He had a wish he had waited so long to fulfill, and the courage to keep living. They had already escaped Florence. His wish was finally within reach. He could not die here.
Countless images flashed through 042's mind. To die here, after everything he had endured, would be unbearably cruel to 047. 042 could not accept it.
But… what could he possibly do?
Faced with 047, who was being swallowed by the corruption, 042 finally realized just how powerless he was. He could do nothing but watch as 047 slowly transformed into a demon.
There was nothing he could do. He could not even save himself.
"It's my fault… If I had died instead, if Lloyd Medici had survived… perhaps… perhaps everything would have turned out differently."
An even more unbearable anguish gnawed at 042's mind. If only he had been stronger. If only this world had no demons. If only the Golden Age could truly dawn…
047 paid no attention to 042's frantic rambling. He simply gazed at the beautiful night sky and spoke softly.
"Do not go gentle into that good night…"
047 picked up the bloodstained shotgun and gently ran his fingers over the words engraved on its surface.
"I love that poem. It's a poem that curses death. But death is inevitable. Everyone dies."
"That's right. I'm going to die, and my wish has been shattered. But if one wish is gone, why not just make another?"
047 struggled to shift his body. His divine armor had absorbed most of the damage, leaving his flesh relatively unharmed. But even this sturdy armor could not resist the corruption. It could not protect the will inside him as it slowly descended into madness.
"If I absolutely had to make one wish…"
He seized 042 by the head and pressed their foreheads together. Their eyes met, one pair clear, the other growing clouded.
"Live, 042. Even if it's only for my sake. For all our sakes."
042 was momentarily stunned. Then he felt it. Something was about to happen.
A woman's voice rose on the wind, speaking words he could not quite make out. Then an immense hunger welled up inside 042. He had no idea what was happening, but it felt instinctive, as though something invisible were driving him forward.
Fear flooded his consciousness. It seemed that 042 was about to do something terrible.
"Don't be afraid, 042. We'll live on in your memories."
"No… I can't let this happen!"
042 tried to resist. But it was as though some unseen force were guiding him. His Secret Blood ignited once more, surging through him in a fresh blaze. Within his eyes, a white sun began to rise.
Authority—Gabriel.
The fiend opened its mouth. Its grotesque face wept soundlessly as it tore greedily into the dying will before it, crushing it piece by piece and devouring every last fragment.
With each bite, another memory began to crumble, until everything dissolved into nothingness.
The fire in 042's eyes went out. He collapsed into the tainted blood. 047 remained in the same position, but as 042 fell, the parts of his body twisted and mutated by the corruption began to return to normal. A new will descended into the body.
The sea churned. Endless waves crashed down, swallowing the ship that had carried them in their desperate flight. Countless corpses sank into the fathomless depths, and with them came a wave of bitter cold. The entire surface of the ocean froze, transforming into an endless plain of ice.
Thick clouds of snow were whipped into the air by the howling wind. Beneath them, a bench had appeared at some point, and 047 sat upon it as though he were asleep.
The scene froze once more. At that moment, the open door began to close slowly.
In the burning depths of Hell, Lloyd had been devoured by flesh and blood, yet he still clung to the last thread of life. All power to resist had left him. He had not shed a tear in a very long time, but now, perhaps, blood was trickling from the corners of his eyes.
He had long since guessed what lay behind the final door in his Memory Palace. He had simply never dared to think about it, choosing instead to turn away, as though he could escape it by refusing to look.
What a pity. Even this final wish had been shattered at last.
He was about to die, carrying the memories of everyone he had ever known into the grave with him.
He had no strength left to think about anything else. His consciousness had never felt so heavy, and even the searing heat around him had become almost comforting. It was like curling up beneath a soft blanket, safe and warm. Lloyd would simply fall asleep here and never wake again. There would be no more killing, no more sorrow.
It was a beautiful ending. An ending of extraordinary tenderness.
Just go to sleep…
"Do not go gentle into that good night…"
A deep voice rang out.
Lloyd stirred sleepily, vaguely annoyed. But he was far too exhausted to bother with whoever had disturbed him.
Clutching his bedding, he settled back into a peaceful slumber. The flesh enveloping him spread like the roots of a plant, burrowing deeper and deeper into his body, slowly killing him.
"Rage, rage against the dying of the light!"
The voice continued in a low murmur, like someone speaking in a dream.
Lloyd raised his head, bewildered. Irritation flickered across his face. He wanted to teach the person who kept waking him a proper lesson, but as he stared into the emptiness before him, the weight of his memories slowly returned. His peaceful expression began to twist.
He remembered.
The blazing inferno had destroyed everything beautiful. Terror, grief, despair… and then, fury!
"Rage! Fury! Rage against the dying of the light!"
He roared his answer.
Boundless flames surged from the depths of his eyes, as though a blazing sun were about to descend from within them. Deep in the flesh-wrought Hell, Lloyd opened his eyes and let loose a hysterical roar.
His broken body thrashed with all its remaining strength. He tore at the flesh surrounding him, gnawing savagely at the filthy mass.
His fury blazed without restraint, burning away the past, burning away one familiar face after another, reducing them to ashes scattered across the heavens.
If…
If he absolutely had to make one wish…
"I will wipe you out! Every last demon! I will exterminate you all!"
The spectator stepped out of the darkness and stood beneath an endless blaze of light.
He no longer had a nail sword to swing. So he would fight with his hands, his fingernails, his teeth—with anything he could use. He would stop at nothing.
"For that nonexistent… yet beautiful age!"
As though answering Lloyd's wish, steel tore through flesh, cleaving Hell apart. Amid the rising mists of blood, footsteps rang out, and a familiar figure slowly approached him.
The frenzied figure froze. Lloyd stared at the newcomer in disbelief.
"047… You're here. No, that's impossible. You're already dead."
"That's right. I died, 042."
047 held a nail sword in his hand and smiled at 042. He reached out and gave him a hearty slap on the shoulder.
"But I came back from Hell."
His expression hardened with fury.
"For our wishes. For our ideals…"
He raised his sword.
"Let's die one more time!"
A pitch-black shadow pierced through the storm, accompanied by flashes of lightning and peals of thunder. Layer after layer of the Riesenbach's defenses shattered beneath its assault, until it reached the very heart of the battlefield.
Scorching white flames erupted through the gaps in the steel, as though the shell of this Old Era Divine Armor housed the restless soul of some burning revenant.