The party—what little remained of it—returned to the underworld.
Nyx was already on her knees, clutching Arlen against her chest. Her fangs were buried deep in his neck, drinking his blood, forcing regeneration that barely kept pace with death.
“Please… don’t die…”
Her voice broke, raw and animal. “I can’t… I can’t lose anyone else. Please…!”
Her sobs echoed through the throne room, unanswered.
No one could help her.
Dryas was gone.
The forest that once answered her call was ash.
She had already surrendered her shattered goddess core to Solon—there was nothing left of divinity to reclaim.
Grom was gone.
His life had never been bound by Oathbinder.
No safeguard. No miracle. No return.
And Arlen—
At this state, hoping for miracle was nothing more than a luxury they could no longer afford.
Cornea swallowed hard.
She could not collapse.
She had declared she would see Arlen’s revenge through.
She had sworn it—queen to champion.
If she broke now, everything falls.
“Nyx,” Cornea said, her voice sharp enough to cut steel. “There is no other way. Use the last resort.”
Nyx froze.
“…What?”
Her head snapped up. “My queen, even cannot endure that. How is
supposed to survive it like this? It’s too reckless—”
“We have no time!” Cornea roared.
The queen mask shattered.
Desperation bled through her authority.
“He to endure it. Or do you have another way?”
Her fists clenched, nails digging into her palms.
“I am the one making him break his promise. And this is our last hope. Whatever happens is my responsibility.”
She stepped closer, towering over Nyx.
“Take him to my room. Do it.”
Her voice trembled—but did not break.
“Save him. Even if it costs your life.”
Nyx bowed her head.
“…I will, my queen.”
She lifted Arlen’s limp body with shaking arms. Aura moved immediately, supporting what Nyx could not. Together, they dragged him from the throne room, blood staining the stone in a thin, broken trail.
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Silence followed.
Then—
A white portal tore open.
Astrea stepped into the underworld.
Her expression was heavy. “I’m sorry, Cornea. I misjudged Chronos. I thought rage would make him careless. Instead, he’s evolved into something else entirely. After being manipulated by Ianthe and Mortis, he has given up what little hope he had on emotions totally.”
She lowered her head. “I’m truly sorry… for your losses.”
She reached out, intending to embrace her.
Cornea slapped her hand away.
“No,” she said coldly. “Look behind you. I don’t need to be consoled yet. I am the queen. Someone else needs it more.”
Astrea turned.
Tethys sat on the floor, unmoving.
Like a broken doll.
Her eyes were dry—not because the grief was small, but because she had already cried everything she had.
Astrea’s breath caught.
She knelt and pulled the small, mortal girl into her arms. No words. No comfort that could fix anything. Just an embrace, tight enough to keep the pieces from falling further apart.
Behind them, Cornea stood still.
Her heart screamed at her to collapse—to scream, to cry, to shatter—
But she didn’t.
A queen did not have that luxury.
“Tethys,” Cornea said sharply.
The girl flinched.
“Stand up.”
Her voice was merciless. “We fight back. Or if you are too broken, I leave you behind—just like I left Dryas’ body.”
The words were cruel.
They were necessary.
Tethys trembled… then clenched her fists.
She stood.
Her voice was small—but unbroken.
“I haven’t lost yet.”
Her eyes burned with stubborn resolve.
“I promised Big Sister Dryas I would trust her judgment. And she trusted Arlen until the very end.”
She swallowed, then lifted her head.
“So I will trust him too.”
Her tiny voice rang through the chamber.
“He will return. And he will win.”
Cornea nodded once.
“Then we get stronger,” she said flatly. “Before Arlen comes back. And after that—we kill Chronos.”
Astrea’s eyes widened.
“You’re thinking of fighting him?” she asked sharply. “Aeon barely managed to stall him for a moment. He’s shed his emotions completely—what’s left is a monster.”
Cornea’s gaze snapped toward her, obsidian eyes burning.
“Don’t lecture me.”
Her voice was cold, absolute.
“Chronos isn’t as invincible as he wants us to believe. I STILL BELIEVE——THAT ARLEN CAN DEFEAT HIM.”
Astrea stiffened.
“Borrower’s Will shouldn’t be capable of what he did,” Cornea continued. “Not the forest fire. Not that scale of destruction. That wasn’t borrowed power.”
Her fist clenched.
“That was a real god’s power.”
Tethys straightened, wiping her face with her sleeve.
“You mean… Vulcan was helping him?” she asked quietly. “But I didn’t sense him at all.”
“Which means,” Cornea replied instantly, “he was hidden behind an illusion.”
Her eyes flared.
And suddenly—everything aligned.
“Phantas,” Astrea breathed. “And Vulcan. Both of them.”
Tethys nodded slowly, resolve hardening in her small frame.
“Then if we kill those two…”
She lifted her head.
“…Arlen can reach Chronos.”
Astrea looked at her.
The thought struck her painfully—
a child forced to grow up surrounded by death, already ready to speak of killing.
For a fleeting moment, she wondered—
She exhaled.
“Very well,” Astrea said. “You want strength. You want strategy.”
She turned, space bending subtly around her.
“Come with me. I’ll introduce you to the gods outside Heaven.”
Cornea listened, silent.
“They won’t submit easily,” Astrea continued. “They’ll test you. Push you. Break you if they can.”
Her gaze sharpened.
“But if you satisfy them… they’ll stand with you. They will become your strength. Just like Aeon did.”
Cornea closed her eyes.
Arlen had endured trial after trial—for her sake.
Now—
It was her turn.
“So be it,” she said.
She turned to Tethys, her voice firm, commanding—but protective.
“Nyx and Aura will stay behind. Healing Arlen comes first.”
Then, softer—almost gentle:
“Come, Tethys.”
The small girl straightened.
“To become stronger,” Cornea finished, eyes blazing,
“than ever before.”
