{Mirabel Barvavosta.}
Horia was relentless. I had expected his power to be vast, but even with nothing more than his palms, he deflected my strikes.
We traced across the plane, my feeble attempts to end his life shattered by the mere movement of his fingers.
It was as though he never tired, and the hood he wore seemed to linger with a darkness all its own, thick and suffocating.
I knew then that defeating him would be impossible, not without surrendering everything.
And in truth, it was this realization that terrified me most: the mind that was anger, unbound and unrestrained, is far darker than any enemy.
There were two of me. One bore my current persona, calm, deliberate.
The other held my wrath, an ancient storm of fury that did not forgive, did not yield.
Unlike Nicole, my sin and my Regalia were distinct; using the latter risked losing control over the former entirely.
This facade, this semblance of composure, was merely a mask to the greater persona, the one that truly embodied my essence.
I allowed my mind to slowly break sync with the battle, surrendering to pure instinct, letting each motion flow without thought.
And then I peered beyond the world, into the Unknown.
The Depths and the Unknown were one and the same, facets of the Great Mystery.
A darkness so absolute that thought itself recoiled.
The Great Mystery, the void from which the Darkness Earth and the Spirit World are born.
Was a place which aimed to stretch endlessly, unmaking the mind with every glimpse.
Time folded in upon itself. Self dissolved. Reason fled.
Above it all floated the few things that could be called higher: the Astral Sea, and the Dream.
But even they were dwarfed by the terrifying immensity of the Unknown.
It was an existence outside existence, a horizon that devoured comprehension.
A place where thought, time, and self became meaningless whispers.
Through that unending void, I glimpsed something.
A lone, bloody-red moon pulsed with a light that was both too bright and too dark, an impossibility that made my eyes ache.
Its presence loomed with quiet menace, reminding me of my absolute insignificance.
That moon was no celestial body.
It was the body of a great being from Hell, vast beyond reckoning, a corpse yet alive, radiating wrath and hunger.
Its essence seeped into the void, corrupting and twisting, a hunger older than time itself.
And I felt it begin to unmake me, whispering against the fragile threads of my sanity.
The deeper I stared, the more I felt the slow erosion of thought, a creeping madness I could not withstand for long.
The temptation of the Unknown clawed at me, yet the act of reaching, of daring to touch it.
It defied the cost, it made me more myself, closer to my true persona, regardless of the method or the danger.
In that moment, I understood the name it deserved, whispered across the fabric of the Unknown.
The Red Maw Mistress.
Simply thinking of her great name caused me to nearly falter to the insanity that was this realm.
There was a story behind her, grim and eternal.
She was the first woman to die from bearing a child, cursed for adultery, for tempting many with her Regalia.
Eve herself had watched over her, and the judgment had been harsh.
Many considered it unjust; some, righteous.
Yet as she fell into Hell, she rose from the grave, claiming dominion over temptation and wrath.
I looked upon this body of hers, which watches over the Unknown, aiming to corrupt all things within reality.
I reached out and begged her, giving every shred of my will.
I begged her to tempt me. And she did, without hesitation.
Her temptation drew me back to the world, and I gripped my sword as a hazy red aura wrapped around it.
At that moment, my Regalia moved, independent yet bound to my will.
As he stepped back, aiming to dodge my attacks once more.
Within it a small red star emerged, consuming life and death alike before it.
"Great Tempter, Red Giant," I whispered.
For the first time in this battle, he took damage.
His cloak ignited and burned away, unveiling the true form beneath. His eyes widened for a fraction of a moment, and then he smiled.
"Very good, very good," he said. "This is the power I expected from the strongest."
He lifted his hand, and from the depths of his soul, a sword of immense gold manifested.
The blade radiated overwhelming power. Its length and sharpness were absolute, the gold reflecting the hue of his very being.
The hilt was black, wrapped in leather from a beast impossible to name, and the pommel curved like a fragment of the sun.
This was the sword brought down from the place beyond the stars.
He let his fingers glide along its edge, and the force emanating from it pulled at me, demanding attention.
"I am the King In Yellow, the World in Gold, the Mad."
As he spoke, divine grandeur spread across his face, his Regalia revealing itself fully.
In that instant, understanding struck me. That name, that authority, did not come from legend or conjecture.
It came from his existence within the tenth wall.
A realm so far beyond causality that those who dwell there gain enough power to be prayed to.
At that moment, the battlefield itself seemed to bow.
He stepped toward me, and likewise, to his ability, I could not resist. I could not even fathom a world in which resistance was possible.
There was nothing. Across the possible and the impossible, no pathway revealed itself in that moment.
His blade slid across my neck. Blood burst outward like a drifting haze of mist, and I fell to my knees.
Then I fell back.
I struggled to comprehend such power, yet at the same time, it was terrifyingly clear.
All things before him were rendered meaningless.
Any attempt to act against him would drive one into madness.
Any attempt to act against him would be nullified before it could even begin.
This was his Regalia. This was his vow.
He stood over me and reached out his hand. Upon his palm, a sigil revealed itself.
A yellow sigil.
It depicted a spiraling infinity, tendrils endlessly emerging and recoiling, all contained within the shape of a star.
This was not an opponent I could defeat merely with a portion of my power.
This was a being that had to be slaughtered here and now, or not at all.
"Be well to think," he said, "for those thoughts you hold now, they shall shatter soon enough."
Soon enough, his words became truth.
My thoughts vanished, stripped away until only one remaining ideation was possible.
I will lose.
That unshakable truth was made so blatant that the World System itself enforced it as law.
It became an order rather than a conclusion.
And yet, who was I to be bound by this pitiful world, when there must exist a world beyond it?
My hair darkened as I rose, blackened like congealed blood.
My body stalled upright against all reason, and the force of my presence alone hurled him backward.
He crashed down onto his arms and knees.
As I turned my head to the right, every law governing the space between us was stripped away.
He looked as though he had seen a ghost.
What he had seen was me.
I raised my sword, and anger not born of this world poured outward. In that moment, blood streamed from his eyes.
"Go mad, Horia," I said. "Go mad with the anger that is me. Go mad with the wrath that is me."
I twisted my blade.
In that instant, his heart vanished. He coughed violently and collapsed to his knees.
He looked up at me, his face drained of all color. "H-how?"
I plunged my sword into the ground.
"This is my Regalia," I said. "For this is the Root, and it is from here that I must rip."