'Damn it, I should have had Dusky kill enough Nightmare Creatures to form my Monster Core before this battle! Why did I have him pause?'
The thought came uninvited as Juno stared down from the branch.
The Demon dragged itself through the torn ash below, leaving a trail of glowing blood. Even half‑ruined, it radiated a kind of weight that pressed on his lungs. He'd killed a lot of things since the Spell dropped him here. Some of them had been big. Some of them had been clever.
None of them had made his skin try to crawl off his bones just by existing.
Not Dusky, not the first centurion, not any of the warped horrors he'd watched from hiding. This thing did. It wasn't just dangerous. It felt… wrong. Like an executioner that had never once missed.
'Maybe the thing that Piercing Mind is scared of isn't the Demon, but the Terror controlling it. Ugh, the next couple of weeks will be annoying, won't they?'
"Alright," Sunny said right beside him. "Um, what are we doing now?"
Juno tore his eyes away and looked at Sunny, then at Nephis.
She didn't seem to hesitate at all.
"We finish it off."
For a moment, Sunny seemed to be lost in thought as he looked at the Demon. It was funny, kind of, to see the same scene play out right in front of him.
"All right then," Juno said cheerfully. "How are we going to kill it then?"
Of course, they were going to kill it. What else would Fate dictate? Changing Star would obviously kill that thing, and Sunny would receive the Midnight Shard.
Nephis weighed her sword in her hand, then glanced at Execution.
"Juno, you'll break through the armor. Sunny, you'll distract the demon. I will kill it."
Not wasting any more time, the trio went down.
Up above, Cassie stayed on the branch, a pale shape framed by the scarlet leaves.
"I'll tell you if something changes," she called softly. "Just… come back."
"No promises," Sunny muttered, but he waved an arm anyway. Stupid, really.
The Demon had stopped its slow drag and was waiting now, braced in the ruined ash. One leg forward, pincer low, scythe raised. Its single eye burned like coal. As the group reached the bottom, Nephis directed everyone to get into position.
Sunny angled off to the right, Nephis mirrored him left, and Juno held the center line a few paces behind, watching the way the Demon's gaze twitched between them. If it were in regular condition, it would have attacked already.
Up close, the abomination looked even nastier than Juno imagined. A bloodied and gory mess of a thing. Most important of the wounds, however, was the massive door in the middle of its chest, leading almost directly to its heart. Sure, there was some more armor there, but Juno could probably cut it out.
After a couple more seconds, the demon moved.
The scythe snapped at Sunny in a brutal diagonal. Sunny twisted aside, the blade carving through where he'd been a breath before and biting into the Barrow with a bone‑deep clang, ash exploding.
Nephis darted in on the opposite side, sword flicking at the cracked front leg. White light flared along the edge, and azure blood splashed all around.
The leg buckled. The Demon caught itself with its pincer jammed into the ground.
It roared, the sound a grinding blast of hate.
Sunny slashed at another joint, his blade sparking off. It wasn't much, but it kept him in the eye.
"Keep him on me!" he shouted. "Neph, again on that leg!"
"Working on it," she said, already moving.
Juno shifted, looking for a clean lane. There wasn't one yet—too much spinning metal between him and anything that mattered. Additionally, the demon was just a little too tall for him; reaching its chest would be like climbing two floors.
The Demon solved that problem in its own way.
Instead of immediately swinging the scythe again, it shoved its pincer deeper into the torn ground, claws scraping. For a second, Juno frowned, not following.
Then the pincer closed around a long, cracked shape—one of its own severed legs from the night—and lifted.
"…Oh," he managed.
The Demon heaved.
The shattered limb whipped through the air like a thrown boulder. Juno believed the leg would fly off course, but for the first time, his brain failed him.
Juno turned.
All he saw was dark chitin and jagged edges rushing at him.
He tried to move. His body even started, but it was all too late. His careful timing and neat predictions meant nothing against a corpse‑club thrown by a monster.
The impact knocked everything out of him.
The limb smashed into his side and shoulder, tearing his breath away. He left the ground, the Barrow dropping out from under him.
Then the tree stopped him.
He hit the damn thing with his back, hard enough that there were small cracks on the Awakened level bark around his impact area. His head followed inertia a moment later, also leaving behind a couple of cracks in the bark.
White flared behind his eyes. The world turned into a distant ringing.
He slid down, leaving a dark streak on the trunk, and crumpled at its base.
Juno saw the demon turning, already forgetting about him.
It seemed to have decided Juno wasn't worth the attention anymore.
It is probably believed that the Sun Chaser was a dead man.
Juno's fingers twitched once in the ash, pure rage flowing out of him.
Then he went still.
…
Sunny didn't let himself look at the curled form of the Sun Chaser for more than a heartbeat. It would be too devastating if he did.
Juno was a broken shape, half‑propped against the pale bark, blood already soaking into the ash in a way that made Sunny's stomach twist. For a split second, his mind tried to protest—this was the guy who joked his way through everything, who had killed a Master in his First Nightmare, who kept casually winning their duels. Someone like that wasn't supposed to get caught flat‑footed by a thrown corpse and crumple like any other Sleeper.
It didn't make sense. It felt wrong, like the world had skipped a line in the script.
If he stared any longer, he was going to drop his sword and run to him and die with him.
"Eyes on me," Nephis said, not glancing back. "We finish this first."
Sunny swallowed, forced his legs to steady, and tore his gaze away from the blood on the bark.
"Two little Dreamers it is," he muttered, voice rough. "Let's make it enough."
Sunny ran forward, toward Nephis and toward the demon.
Luckily for everyone, the demon had already decided that Juno was a non-entity, shifting its focus over to Sunny instead.
'Wait, how is that a good thing?!'
Sunny sprinted right, trying to drag its gaze with him. Nephis went left, angling toward the torn gap in its chest.
"Draw him away from the tree," she yelled. "Give me the heart."
"Fine by me," Sunny yelled back. "I never liked his face anyway."
The scythe of the demon screamed as it cut through the air. Sunny threw himself backward, boots skidding on the ash below. The scythe slammed into the ground hard enough to cause the ash to erupt as if from a volcano.
"Oi ugly," Sunny shouted, already circling. "Catch me here!"
The Demon turned with him, that single eye tracking him like a target marker.
Nephis took the opening.
She rushed in under its guard, sword igniting with pale flame, and hacked at the already‑damaged foreleg. The edge bit deep this time, splitting cracked carapace and tearing through what was left of the tendon inside. Azure blood splashed across the ash.
The leg buckled. The Demon dipped lower, forced to throw more of its mass onto the ruined limb and the pincer braced in the ground.
It roared, a grinding, hateful sound that rattled Sunny's ribs.
The pincer swept sideways. Nephis barely leaped back in time, the claw missing her by a hand's breadth and gouging another furrow into the Barrow.
"Again!" Sunny called, lungs burning. "Same spot!"
He darted in and slashed at a closer joint, more to keep its eye on him than to do real damage. His blade glanced off, but the monster twitched toward him all the same, scythe snapping down.
He ducked under it by instinct more than thought, feeling the slice of air over his head, then rolled and came up further right, putting more distance between the Demon and the tree.
Every dodge came a little slower. Every breath burned a little more. But he kept moving.
Nephis obeyed.
She slid in low again, teeth clenched, and brought her sword down like a hammer on the battered leg. Bone and metal finally gave. The limb snapped with a wet, ugly crack.
This time, the Demon fell.
It dropped hard onto its front, rear legs scrabbling to keep it from collapsing completely. Its chest came down lower, almost to knee height, the split plates over its heart yawning wider with the strain. Nephis's sword flashed, and she drove it straight into that wound, both hands on the hilt.
White fire flooded the gap.
For a moment, Sunny could see the insides of the thing outlined in light—twisted muscle, blackened bone, something pulsing behind it all. The Demon convulsed, throwing its torso sideways. Nephis was flung off her feet, rolling across the ash, but the sword stayed where it was, buried to the hilt in its chest.
"Nephis!" Sunny shouted.
"I'm fine," she coughed, forcing herself up on one arm. "Move him!"
The Demon was half‑collapsed now, dragging itself closer to Sunny on its remaining legs and pincer, carapace smoking around the buried blade. Every pull left a streak of glowing blood.
Sunny backed up, step by step, keeping its focus on him. The scythe rose again, slower but still lethal.
"Come on," he muttered. "One more…"
The next swing came in low and sideways. Sunny brought his sword up to deflect, turning his shoulders with the motion. The trick worked—mostly. The scythe scraped along his blade instead of cleaving him in half, but the force of it was like being hit by a falling wall.
Pain shot up his arms. His grip slipped.
The steel in his hands screamed, a long, high note of protest, then cracked.
The blade shattered into a spray of blue shards that turned to sparks before they hit the ground.
Sunny hit the ash a moment later, rolling, ears ringing.
[Your Memory has been destroyed…]
The cold voice flickered through his mind and vanished under the sound of his own ragged breathing.
"…Perfect," he wheezed.
He pushed himself up with empty hands as the Demon loomed closer, shadow falling over him. The scythe came up again, readjusting its line now that his weapon was gone, point tracking the center of his chest.
"Sunny!" Cassie screamed from above.
"I know!" he snapped back, more reflex than anything.
Nephis staggered toward the Demon, but she was still too far. Her sword was still lodged in its chest, out of reach, white fire guttering along the hilt.
The Demon inhaled that awful grinding breath and began the final swing.
Sunny could see, with terrible clarity, that he wasn't going to dodge this one. His legs wouldn't give him enough speed. There was nowhere good left to go.
The scythe started down.
In the corner of his eye, right by the tree, something moved.
A dark, blood‑slick figure from head to toe dragged itself upright along the pale bark, one hand smearing fresh red across the trunk. It tottered for a heartbeat, then stepped onto a half‑buried broken limb jutting from the ash, using it as a crooked ramp that pointed straight toward the Demon's lowered neck.
…
Juno looked absolutely beaten.
Blood had matted pretty much the whole of Juno's head, his regular fire-red hair turning a darker crimson that looked nearly black. His right eye was lidded and unfocused, the other burning a flame with rage. His armor was torn and destroyed, most of it gone from the limb, scratching against it upon impact. Execution had apparently cut him too, but luckily, it didn't bite in. If it had, he would have died long ago.
Juno stood upon the bloody, ashen ground, staring around in confusion, his horns now shining through in all their terror.
He looked like half a corpse and half a devil.
Sound came in waves—distant, then too close, then distant again. Sunny's shout. Nephis's voice. Cassie's raw scream from somewhere above. The constant mutter of the Sea. All of it blurred together into a single, high note drilling through his skull.
His vision wasn't much better. The edges were smeared, like someone had dragged a thumb across wet paint. Only the center stayed clear.
The center was the Demon.
Juno swayed against the tree, shoulder pressed to cold onyx bark. His legs felt like they belonged to someone else; his fingers didn't seem entirely sure whether they were open or closed.
'So that's what half‑dead looks like,' he thought, vaguely impressed. 'Huh.'
Somewhere behind the pain and ringing, another part of his mind took notes.
He could tell that part of his brain had simply… checked out. Gone to sleep. The rest, though—the piece Piercing Mind sat in—was wide awake. Clearer than it had ever been.
One half of him was busy trying to convince him to lie down and stop. The other half was already tracing lines through the air: Demon's limb here, scythe there, Sunny too slow, Nephis too far, Cassie above, tree behind.
A split mind. Broken, but useful.
'That's… actually kind of cool,' he realized, distantly. 'I should play with this later. See what else I can do with a split brain.'
The thought made him grin, which hurt, which somehow helped him focus.
The Demon dragged itself another step closer to Sunny. The scythe rose for the last time.
Juno closed his eyes for a heartbeat.
He started to focus.
Sun Chaser.
Sun Chaser.
Sun Chaser.
The part of him that always wanted something more. The happy side of him that acted like the rest. Not a fitting feeling for the moment, he believed.
Lone Call.
The part of his Aspect that deemed itself isolated. Why, he didn't know. He never liked that part of his Aspect Description.
Devotee of Need.
Devotee of Need.
The one that admitted what he was—greedy, hungry, always reaching. That felt good. Honest. But there was something sharper under it today.
Burning Heaven.
Burning Haven.
Burning Heaven.
Burning Heaven.
Something seemed to click at that moment. Juno had seemed to have had his mind cleared, and his thoughts returned to normal. Better than normal, in fact.
'Better than the last few days, especially.'
Thinking about it now, it was bizarre. Why hadn't he told Sunny and the rest of Dusky? Why hadn't he led the charge against the demon this day? Why had he been acting carefully?
'That wasn't all me…'
Maybe it was connected to that weird feeling he had felt multiple times. That one feeling he was sensing right now. It was stronger, and all around him.
'Ugh….'
He opened his eyes again.
Those things could wait. Right now, he had a job to do.
The Demon filled the center of his world. Low now, chest cracked open and leaking light, head dipping as it committed everything into that final swing at Sunny.
Heat rose in his chest. Not the clean, white burn of Nephis's flame. Something darker. Hungrier.
Burning Heaven bit into things.
He was Burning Heaven.
Without quite meaning to, he found himself repeating it in his head as he pushed off from the tree.
Burning Heaven destroyed things.
He was Burning Heaven.
His first step almost sent him face‑first into the ash. His foot didn't land where it should have; his knee buckled wrong; his balance lurched.
Luckily, he was a genius. A true, self-made genius.
He felt his weight tilt and, instead of fighting it, leaned into it, letting the stumble become a crooked stride that still carried him forward. His body protested every movement. His right leg sparked white‑hot pain up to his hip. His back screamed. His head throbbed with every heartbeat.
He kept moving.
'Why didn't I send Dusky hunting?' another thought drifted up, almost conversational. 'Could've had a Monster Core by now. Could've made this easier.'
His other foot hit the ash. Slid. Corrected.
He couldn't even see the ground. Couldn't feel, sense, or even interpret it. He was living through a concussion whilst conscious.
He took another step. Then another. Each one landed wrong and right at the same time—off for a sane, healthy body, perfect for the broken, half‑paralyzed mess he currently was.
'Since when did anything dare to try and modify me?!'
The thought annoyed him more than the pain.
The Demon's back loomed closer. One of the broken limbs lay half‑buried in the ash between him and it, jutting up at an angle like a makeshift ramp.
His eyes locked on it.
'There we go.'
He put his foot on the shattered carapace.
It was slick with old blood and fresh ichor. His boot skidded. For an instant, he felt himself tilting sideways, ready to fall, skull first, into the ground.
He adapted.
His hips twisted; his shoulders rolled; his off hand grabbed uselessly at the air and somehow found a jag of exposed root instead. He used it to haul himself up the last bit, turning the almost‑fall into a lurching step up.
He was moving faster now. Almost a run. The ringing in his ears narrowed down to a single rhythm: the Demon's labored breaths, Sunny's ragged gasps, the grind of metal joints. Nephis is being flung dozens of meters aside.
Everything else fell away.
He climbed the broken limb and kicked off, hurling himself at the Demon's back.
From the outside, it would probably have looked pathetic—a blood‑soaked Sleeper flinging himself at a monster that had just tried to erase him. From the inside, every stupid, reckless part of it made perfect sense.
His boots hit cracked armor. He nearly slipped.
He drove the toes of his shoes into gaps between plates, stabbing down with each step like his feet were knives. One hand clawed at a spine of jagged chitin, the other clenched around Execution's hilt.
He climbed.
Higher. Toward the base of the neck, where the plates met and flexed.
'No more waiting,' he thought. His breath came in ragged pulls, hot in his throat. 'Nothing else shall look down on me.'
The Demon twisted under him, feeling the new weight. Its ruined legs scrabbled; the scythe's swing faltered as it tried to decide whether to kill the boy in front of it or scrape off the one on its back.
Too late.
Juno reached the nape.
He didn't think about angle or force. Technically, he did, but that was the details.
He brought Execution down.
Execution's edge slammed into the seam where cracked plates met. Resistance flared—a thick, rubbery give of flesh and something harder beneath. He snarled and shoved, screaming muscles and all, forcing the blade deeper.
The demon could do nothing against Place of Execution.
The armor gave. The steel sank.
Light burst at the edges of the wound, sickly and bright. The Demon convulsed. Its scythe carved a harmless line in the ash instead of through Sunny's chest.
Juno didn't notice.
He tore the sword free and stabbed again, a little higher. And again. And again.
Each thrust sent a fresh bolt of agony through his back and arms. Each one hit a little deeper, a little closer to whatever counted as a brain in there.
Thoughts boiled away.
There was only motion.
Up. Down. In. Out.
"You—" shove "—don't—" twist "—get—" wrench "—to—" stab "—do—" tear "—this—" drive "—to—" drag "—me."
Hot blood—too bright, too thick—splashed his hands, his face, his chest. It stung his eyes. He kept going, blinking against it, laughing or sobbing or something in between every time the blade punched through something new.
"Burning Heaven," he heard himself mutter. Or snarl. Or scream. He wasn't sure. "I am Burning Heaven. I am Burning Heaven. I am—"
The Demon shuddered.
Something inside it tore all at once. The light behind its eye went out like a snuffed candle. Its limbs spasmed and then dropped, dead weight.
The body started to sag.
Juno felt it, dimly, like a floor giving way under his feet. His blade was still buried in the back of its neck. He could feel something else, too—the distant, cold brush of the Spell as it placed something heavy and sharp into the space where his soul held its spoils.
He didn't care.
He kept stabbing.
Once. Twice. Three more times, even after there was nothing left to kill.
"I am Burning Heaven!" he roared down into the ruined head, throat raw. "Remember that, you overgrown bug! You die to me!"
His voice bounced back at him, thin and shredded.
His arms finally refused to lift the sword again.
For a moment, everything went very quiet.
In the distance, he felt two sets of footsteps running up to him.
And just like that, Juno started to slide off from the demon's back, and right back into unconsciousness.
…
An immeasurable distance away from the battle between Lost from Light, Changing Star, Sun Chaser, and the Carapace Demon was a realm. It was illusory, yet real. It bordered on reality and dream. It was both nowhere, and everywhere at the same time, existing separately from all the realm yet inside every living being and thing.
The "wall" between this place and the current realms was just as illusory as it was, not being a true border nor touching it.
Inside this space, an infinite and incalculable, yet finite and malleable amount of strings is shown. Some were alight with light, whilst others were only dim. Some were as thick as a tree trunk, whilst others were as thin as hair.
These strings stretched from the past, to the present, and to the future. They dictated how reality should go, and they had been there since before the Gods. Whilst all the other Gods formed their own dominion, the Forgotten God and his firstborn only inherited the power of manipulating this space.
This was Fate.
Fate had always been dictated.
Even when, in the coming future, the strings ended, it was all laid out from before.
If the Gods were not allowed to break Fate, how dare a minuscule shadow and a crippled woman dare to?
But Fate was not currently looking at them. Instead, it was paying close attention to a specific string.
This string had popped into being recently. It was not a branch of another string. It was not the creation of a small string by the Dream God or Weaver.
This string made itself into being.
It was an anomaly that had happened only once before.
And currently, this string was shining. It was shining far more than any other string was, and it was shining after it was meant to be put out. An anomaly that came to exist of its own will was not meant to be allowed to grow stronger.
Abruptly, the light of the string went out. This string was now dead.
No, that would be the wrong word for it.
Instead, it seemed to be taking in all the light from the other strings into itself, rapidly growing. It seemed to have, without reason or awareness, changed its own fate.
It was an anomaly that had never happened before.
Looking upon this scene, Fate trembled.
Fate, for all its glory and planning, did not expect this.
This tumor.
This cancer.
This… parasite.
The illusory strings, ones that both existed and didn't exist all at once, seemed to thin.
The cut in strings that was to happen in Fate soon now seemed much less predetermined.
Now, it seemed likely to happen for real.