Chapter E2N15: Affectionate Hate.
In the confines of her office, Laura Stuart found herself face to face with a certain man.
As a show of her hospitality, the Archbishop produced a cup of coffee from somewhere, which Albert Magnus graciously accepted.
"Huh. This thing's pretty bitter." (Albert)
"It's a very high-quality blend, naturally grown, that I specifically had flown from Indonesia. I prefer its rich taste over the readymade sugary mess we get as coffee through the Aqua Vitae." (Laura)
"That so? Well, that seems to be an acquired taste. I like instant coffee more… so yeah." (Albert)
The Archtreasurer and the Archbishop carried on their conversation like a pair of old friends.
Once Laura had gulped down the last drops of her coffee. She set the cup aside and turned to face the other man in her office.
"In any event… what brings you here, Albert?" (Laura)
"Oh, nothing serious, really. I took a quick peek at Kanzaki's and Kamijou's fight… and the boy said some really interesting stuff at the end there." (Albert)
Laura Stuart let out a sigh.
"Kamijou Touma is a criminal aided by Anna Sprengel. Maybe you should have interfered." (Laura)
Indeed, Laura was correct. Albert Magnus ought to have interfered.
"Yeah. I'm sorry. You're right. But who am I to butt into such a passionate duel?" (Albert)
"I should've remembered you were that kind of a man. However, as you can certainly recall, duels to death are still considered murder under standard international law." (Laura)
"Well, our existence itself is pretty damn sinful if you ask me, get what I'm sayin'? You know, like… trying to orchestrate the destruction of the Tree of Life and stuff" (Albert)
The truly fearsome part about Albert Magnus' declaration was that he uttered it in the same joking tone he had employed until now.
The office's tranquil atmosphere never wavered.
Albert's coffee, too, remained pleasantly warm.
The Archtreasurer displayed not a trace of anger.
"I see… Then, am I correct in assuming that you're not here as the Archtreasurer of the Commonwealth?" (Laura)
"Assume what you will, but let's hear your explanation, Coronzon." (Albert)
"My explanation? Very well. Do you wish to know anything else?" (Laura)
"I'm quite the greedy guy, you know. Personally, I'd like to know everything you did these past few æons, from beginning to end." (Albert)
"I'm afraid that would take a considerable amount of time." (Laura)
"Why don't you just tell me how it started, then?" (Albert)
In response, Laura Stuart's, no… Coronzon's laugh chimed through the air softly.
"Very well, I shall confess. Let us simply say that I was responsible for trying to usher in the Holy Sephiroth's destruction. That Nika Kurylenko was merely a cue, nothing more." (Laura)
"It's a crime to give false testimony, y'know. I might not look like much, but I'm still your adjudicator. Be careful with your words, the others are listening, after all." (Albert)
"Oh, but I have committed sins far greater than that." (Laura)
"Alright, gotcha. So basically… you are confessing of being the mastermind behind this catastrophe, huh?" (Albert)
There was a shift in the air then, pushing aside all traces of the room's previously soothing atmosphere as an ominous chill that permeated one's very bones, befitting the lowest layers of Hell, descended upon them.
"Me, the mastermind, huh…? An amusing thought. I wonder if I am truly the mastermind behind all this?" (Laura)
"Kuku~! Kukuku~! Kukukuku~! Kukukukukukuku~!" (Albert)
His seething bloodlust having reached its boiling point, Albert Magnus let out a hearty guffaw. To Coronzon, however, this was a grave sign.
Albert's expression may have been all fun and games, yet a faint glimmer of his genuine rage shone through his facade.
No— it was, in fact, something much more than that.
Mere "rage" was no fiercer than a child's pout compared to the swamp of dark, murderous contempt lurking behind it.
Anger and bloodlust were different emotions. The former abided by instinct, the latter by logic and reason.
And Albert's reasoning whispered the following in his mind.
Make the fool part with that scheming head of hers right here, right now. Then, hurl it into the boiling cauldron of Nahemoth and let it burn there alongside her vile sacrilege.
"I don't expect you to understand." (Laura)
"Yeah, you can say that again." (Albert)
Albert inclined his head to the side, his neck giving off an audible creak. He then touched his thumb to his middle finger… and snapped.
A moment later, an explosive blast hit Laura and the room alike.
All Albert did was ignite the magical energies exuding from his body.
There was no complex incantation, nor any fixed set of movements— he didn't even need to focus his mind on producing the blast.
He simply decided that snapping his fingers would release his aura completely, and that was it.
Forget mortals, even angels could probably just cause a feeble breeze with such a crude and inefficient method. In Albert's case, however, its power rivaled that of a small nuclear explosion.
But that was not an attack, not at all. He was just getting the stage ready.
In any event, most of the living things would not have just died, but be outright atomized by the blast. It was simply that powerful.
However, the person on the receiving end of the attack was no fledgling, either. Far from it.
She was Coronzon— the personification of Da'ath itself.
The surroundings had now changed completely and both of them found themselves in an empty world.
It was Albert's doing.
"You haven't changed one bit, have you, my old friend? Or, perhaps, I should stop referring to you as Telocvovim, and simply continue calling you Albert. But I find it undeniable that your magic still sings a melancholic tune. Also… how thoughtful of you to shift us to the mandala of Tiferet." (Laura)
Coronzon stepped forward, not a single stain blemishing her clothes.
The world had never faced a circumstance like this. A situation in which two of the beams that supported it would inexorably turn upon each other.
As such a very specific stage had to be prepared. The mandala of Tiferet, the realm of the one sephira representing balance and order.
Without a master and equidistant from both the sephira of Malkuth and Da'ath, the others felt that Tiferet was the most appropriate place for conducting the adjudication.
"Melancholic, my *ss. You sure liked talking sh*t." (Albert)
Albert Magnus was Telocvovim— the Enochian Death Dragon. As Adonai Malekh of Malkuth, he was also the ancient god embodying the realm of the Kingdom.
As the sephira of Malkuth represented the entirety of Assiah—the "material" world, an attack from Telocvovim was tantamount to an attack from all of existence simultaneously.
However, Coronzon was not the least bit harmed.
And Albert showed absolutely no surprise at this. After all, much like how he was the embodiment of Malkuth, she was the personification of Da'ath itself.
Smiling Coronzon gave her brethren a tap on the shoulder. The whole action took place in merely a blink of an eye.
No. That term was probably inappropriate here, because in theory— Coronzon simply eliminated the "time" required for her action to take place.
"Since this is an adjudication, I guess all my channels are blocked and the Æthers are completely sealed. Not to mention my Flaming_Sword has been completely unresponsive for a while now." (Laura)
"What did you expect, fool?! You are being judged for trying to destroy the Holy Sephiroth! You think Kether or anyone else is going to lend you power for doing that? You've just got your Da'ath going, and that's about it." (Albert)
"…I see. Guess that makes sens—" (Laura)
"…But that being said, since I'm to be your arbitrator, to maintain a degree of fairness… unfortunately, they are not going to give me a hand either." (Albert)
"Is that so? So basically, this is a trial by combat." (Laura)
That was what it all boiled down to. An open confrontation between two mandalas— Malkuth and Da'ath.
"That's right. But are you truly that surprised?" (Albert)
"…I was expecting some resistance. But an adjudication? I wouldn't have guessed that, really. But since we are at an impasse, we should get this over with soon." (Laura)
While Malkuth was the material world, Da'ath was a spiritual repository of all the Tree's Intuitive Knowledge.
As Creation shifted its focus from Intuitive Knowledge to Materialism, Malkuth rose in power greatly. However, it still blamed Da'ath for orchestrating its downfall from Briah to Assiah.
As for Da'ath, the proud sephira of Intuition was able to keep its central location, but at the cost of being relegated to obscurity.
Being a false eleventh pseudo-sephira on a Tree that could only contain ten— was an insult Da'ath credited Malkuth for engineering.
Therefore, it would be an understatement to simply say that the god of Malkuth and the demon lord of Da'ath did not get along.
"Just what I wanted to hear!" (Albert)
Albert's lips curled into a broad grin as he threw out a blow.
A split-second before the ancient god's punch could hit the demon lord in the face, the latter responded with a counter, smashing her slender fist into the other's jaw.
"Wh-What the—" (Albert)
Albert's technique was nonexistent.
A more pertinent way of putting it would be to say that "techniques" fell under the purview of "Intuitive Knowledge"— the domain of Coronzon's Da'ath.
Hence, it went without saying that Albert could not utilize proper techniques in a fight against Coronzon.
All he could rely upon was magic, brute strength, as well as the respective weapons in his possession.
Coronzon, on the other hand, being the container of the Tree's Intuitive Knowledge, was brimming full of magical and arcane techniques.
She was unlike Ein Sof's Nuit who was dependent on a world's "self-actualization," or Kether's Hadit who was dependent on its "awareness and spirituality."
Neither was she reliant on "Life" like Chokhmah's Sophia, nor was she dependent on a world's "morality" like Binah's Babalon.
She was even independent of Rahab's required "originality or scientificity" of the world.
Thus, from its very core, Coronzon was a much different entity.
Even in Assiah, Intuitive Knowledge itself was in use everywhere. And thus, being its representative, Coronzon was able to manifest within it at her convenience.
Not to mention that she was a hardcore enthusiast.
She not only weaseled her way into human history to introduce arcane knowledge, but also followed— orchestrated and studied— with great interest the gradual evolution of mankind's magical techniques over multiple æons.
"That was my "Magick_Full_Counter." An interesting technique I picked up from a demon boy in a lower world. It utilizes the incoming power of the opponent to multiply one's own. Failure could be fatal, but if pulled off successfully, it ends up being quite a serious move. Does it strike a chord in your heart?" (Laura)
"Sorry to burst your bubble, buttercup, but I hate gambling!" (Albert)
Albert lunged at his opponent, raising his fist to strike; Coronzon, meanwhile, couldn't help but view Albert's actions similar to that of an out-of-control dump truck.
As Albert was about to deliver a punch of considerable strength, Coronzon once again positioned herself to unleash her "Magic_Full_Counter" move again.
A moment later, Coronzon found her vision clouded by stars, almost like fireworks— Albert had just given her a headbutt akin to getting hit by a freight train.
"I wouldn't underestimate me, if I were you. I may not possess your techniques, but I have many an epoch-spanning experience with street brawls and other technique-less fights!" (Albert)
Indeed. He could use no fighting techniques. But everything else was fair game. There were certainly no limitations on how he utilized his experience and instincts.
"My, my, street brawling, huh. Hardly a hobby any self-respecting jurist should have!" (Laura)
Fists flew, crashed into each other's body and got repelled.
With every vicious exchange, Coronzon felt an electric current of pain ravage her body— yet her heart fluttered with joy, enjoying every second of it.
There was probably nothing in all of existence that could pressurize her this much.
Albert felt the same.
His fist cried out in agony every time it tasted Coronzon's flesh, yet never once did he consider stopping.
"So? What made you come up with this bullshit plan— GUAH!" (Albert)
Albert cried out as the other buried her fist deep in his abdomen. Even as Albert launched punch after punch, each one capable of shaking the very mandala, Coronzon continued with an unfaltering smile as she dodged everything with minimalistic yet precise movements.
"First and foremost, my own selfishness. Secondly… a promise I made to our beloved friend!" (Laura)
"You… You don't mea—" (Albert)
"[Magick_Arcadia]" (Laura)
That was the last thing Albert imagined Coronzon to say.
And as such, he lowered his guard for a split-second upon hearing the demon lord's odd words. This prompted Coronzon to unleash a powerful point-blank range magical attack to her opponent's head.
The attack rent the monochrome canvas of Tiferet asunder, blowing Albert to the other side of the empty realm.
Albert mind screamed—
Sh*t… even without outside assistance, she sure packs a punch…!
—that he had severely underestimated Coronzon.
Always at the center of the Tree of Life, assisted by other sephira almost like servants, Coronzon had always used borrowed power to overwhelm her opponents.
She had never once used her own strength to fight, and seemed to avoid strong physical confrontations like some plague.
This led Albert to believe that amongst all the sixteen ancient gods, Coronzon was something akin to a glass cannon. A failure of sorts. The caterpillar who failed to become a butterfly.
The lord of Malkuth was a powerful, war-hardened entity. He was a veteran existence capable of being the lid that kept the Tree of Death sealed.
As such there was no reason for him to doubt himself for arriving at such a conclusion. He was basing it upon his experience and observations, after all.
However, it seemed like his analysis of Coronzon was wrong.
Coronzon's strength, both physical and arcane, was… abnormal, to say the least. It was as if she could very well possess the strength of a god without any external assistance at all.
Almost like she was not a failure…
Two scenarios flashed across Albert's mind.
First: the real reason why she kept employing the others' powers was to keep her true strength hidden.
…Or, second: she couldn't be bothered to expend her own energy upon trivial things, in turn finding her share of amusement at the expense of other ancient beings.
Genius. Or manipulative.
Both of them were equally dangerous thoughts in this situation.
"Man… how wrong I was! ...Interesting!" (Albert)
It seemed like looking down upon Coronzon just because she was a nerd or a failure was a mistake. Something that Albert realized very clearly now.
He had given up on fooling around with her.
It was high time for Albert to get a little bit serious. He summoned his weapon.
"The trident of impossibility— [Devil's Pitchfork!] "(Albert)
Albert looked over his trident. Coronzon, upon arriving at the place where he was, exhaled a sigh of genuine awe as she beheld the outrageous weapon.
"So that's the infamous Devil's Pitchfork. I heard the rumors, but never did I once imagine it to be this terrifying, this beautiful." (Laura)
The trident's shape was beyond incomprehensible. It seemed to have been made of crystallized light, but its handle was covered in shadowy glyphs— both blessing and curses writ upon it in myriad languages.
The real problem, however, were the spikes at its tip. Three in total, true to its name as a trident. However…
With each rotation Albert gave his trusty weapon, the number of blades on its tip shifted and changed.
From three to six, from six to thirteen, from thirteen to four hundred eighty-six, from four hundred eighty-six to none, from none to four— it was impossible to tell. Abiding by no fixed law, the blades continued to change even after Albert stopped spinning his weapon.
"This is a weapon personifying the law of Malkuth itself. And it's more than enough to carry me to victory in any battle." (Albert)
Albert's trident was the physical manifestation of Malkuth's current æon — and as such it was an ever-prevalent mass of contradictions— imbued both with prayers aimed to save and curses uttered to cause harm.
Despite carrying the name of a trident, it's sharpened tips freely changed their numbers from 0 and infinity.
The rules guiding it were by no means strict or regulated.
If anything, it was ambiguous beyond measure, for the law itself was never without a tinge of bias to color its palette.
Let us assume that a man had killed another in cold blood.
Whether his victim was a child or an adult, the fact that he murdered someone changed precious little.
But what if the said adult was a wretched tyrant or a cruel blackguard hated by many? What if the child had been killed in a way so gruesome that no man could silence his compassion and pity?
The crime of the latter far eclipsed that of the former.
The law was thus never free of the moral element of the corresponding æon, always leaving traces of ambiguity in its wake.
A loose string pulled at both ends by good and evil with each side wanting to expand their territory.
Such was the battlefield of law and morality, its landscape pregnant with elements defying linguistic expression.
"Hm. A splendid weapon indeed. Truly representative of Malkuth's ambivalence."
As Coronzon gave a respectful nod, Albert gestured with his palm inviting the other to battle.
"Come face me, Coronzon." (Albert)
A bitter smile crept up to Coronzon's lips.
She shook her head, then shrugged.
"May I remind you that I'm a demon? Fighting fair and square isn't exactly my forte, you know."
A quick glance revealed three demons standing behind Coronzon.
"You…" (Albert)
"On any other day, I may have savored the idea of meeting a glorious end in some fair and square combat against you. However, I wish to linger here a touch longer. I wish to see with my own eyes the final moments of this apocalypse consuming the Tree of Life." (Laura)
"Hah. So you're basically pissin' your pants so hard at the thought of getting your ass kicked in a fair fight that all you can do is send a bunch of braindead cannon fodder thugs my way, huh?" (Albert)
"Ufufu~ That's one amusing way to think about it." (Laura)
"You cannot fool me with your flowery-*ss speeches, ya hear me?!" (Albert)
Albert's roaring guffaw reverberated across the blank cosmos, earning contemptuous death stares from the three demons. Coronzon, however, went on with unwavering composure.
"So… am I to take that you're very displeased?!" (Laura)
"Hell yeah I am. But… I guess I'd do the same thing in your shoes." (Albert)
"See?" (Laura)
Albert simply decided to ignore Coronzon's beaming smile.
"Right then. Balberith, Argus, and… well, who cares. You there. I ain't got much time to play house with you lot, so do me a favor and come at me all at once." (Albert)
Coronzon's henchmen— or to be more precise, the lesser gods of Da'ath— were called Balberith, Argus, and Barbas.
Balberith or Ba'al had three heads— one that looked like a frog, another like a cat, and the third like a cowardly king. His lower body was that of a giant spider.
Argus (or Agares) was an elderly man with soft features, riding an elephant-sized crocodile while holding a hawk in one hand.
Finally, Barbas (or Marbas) was a samurai-ish person with a lion's head. In his hand, he carried an extraordinary huge hammer known simply by the name "Godsplitter."
Each of them commanded an uncountable legion of demons, so it came as no surprise that they were greatly offended by Albert's dismissive tone.
"How dare you look down on us, you rotten excuse of a jurist…!" (Balberith)
"You've underestimated us for the last time, fool!" (Argus)
"Yare~ Yare~ It seems I shall be having some divine-flesh sashimi tonight!" (Barbas)
All three lunged at Albert in unison.
None of them exercised any restraint as they summoned armies so vast that it burst the very veins of the realm open.
Balberith released all his magical power through his three mouths, Argus sent his crocodile to battle, while Barbas raised his Godsplitter to smash Albert to pieces personally.
Each of the lesser gods were powerful in their own right, capable of ending worlds with the march of their armies alone. Normally, they would never go all-out right at the start of the battle.
But their opponent this time was Albert Magnus— an ancient god who lorded over the entirety of Malkuth itself.
Nobody was naïve enough to underestimate him.
Unless they attacked with all their strength together, all at once, there was absolutely no chance for victory.
But it was all in vain, nonetheless.
Albert was Telocvovim— the Adonai Malekh of Malkuth.
With his very name meaning the Dragon of Death and his existence that of the "Worthless One," he was rumored to be an ancient god most vile.
The chasm of power that existed between the attacking side and the defending side was greater than that of the Heavens and the Earth.
"Love in carnage, friendship in crucifixion, stalwart armor in sharpened steel, future in the past. Sing the ode of fleeting reality!" (Albert)
"As I expected this isn't looking good." (Laura)
"[Judgement Day]"
Lacking any hesitation whatsoever, Albert had just unleashed Armageddon.
"Aieee—!" (The Three)
His trident was awash with limitless possibilities, an entanglement of chaotically complex emotions, phenomena, and situations.
Malkuth represented not just Schrodinger's cosmology but all of physical existence. It was the ground upon which the Holy Sephiroth itself took root— the only truly physical one out of the ten spheres above it.
As such, what difficulty would Albert have to take two contradicting phases from the catbox and combine them together, resulting in an explosion that "reset" the entire mandala of Tiferet to its original state?
In fact, the word explosion might not even do it justice.
Everything in this space was forcefully and instantly eradicated without a trace, leaving only a hovering Coronzon in the background to exhale a tired sigh.
Needless to say, her three underlings and their armies had been completely blinked out of existence.
"I see…! Small wonder our brethren thought you strong enough to the point of invincibility. So the idea here was the consolidation of contradicting possibilities of different phases into a singularity to evoke a strike of complete annihilation." (Laura)
In effect, something not very much unlike a Big Bang.
"I have shown you my trump card, sure… but that doesn't mean jack, y'know." (Albert)
Albert's words rang true. He may have openly displayed his trump card, but that didn't mean he also revealed how one could effectively combat it.
What he did back then was a clash between myriad realities— the possible and the impossible, the real and the unreal, the be and not be, the is and isn't— thus birthing a phenomenon of absolute destruction.
Reflecting, evading, or disabling such an attack was impossible.
Once the attack is launched, the very laws binding the world will be destroyed, resulting in unstoppable and complete annihilation.
The Death Dragon, Telocvovim— the jurist of all— his position demanded him to stand as the judge for the wicked and the just, black and white, hope and despair.
Such was his role in the Sephiroth: to be the Judge.
Albert's faith in his own attack was absolute and unwavering. Coronzon merely survived because he hadn't paid any special attention to her, he thought.
Unfortunately…
Albert, an ancient god himself, had never once seriously fought another ancient god before.
And that was indeed why he failed to take notice of the obvious— the nature of Coronzon's own role in the Sephiroth.
"You have my gratitude, Albert. I have observed your trump card with great interest… which is precisely why I can declare this. You will perish here." (Laura)
"Ho?" (Albert)
Albert gave a mocking jeer. Coronzon, on the other hand, extended her hand towards the other, almost as if she wanted to offer him a handshake.
"Would you perhaps be so kind to show me that attack of yours again?" (Laura)
"You serious?" (Albert)
"Why, of course I am. I assure you, mental contamination has yet to plunge my mind into madness." (Laura)
Coronzon did not flinch at all.
Even after seeing Albert's cosmos-shattering attack a moment before, she remained completely calm and collected.
"Fine, be my guest." (Albert)
Albert was confident that Coronzon had no means of overpowering him or his attack.
And even if, by some miracle, she did, it would not be an issue. Not at all.
Albert— being Albert— had prepared an ace up his sleeve, one that the demon lord could never possibly predict.
He gave his Devil's Pitchfork a handful of spins.
With each turn of the trident, the mandala shook, the ancient god boosting the weapon's power to utterly preposterous heights.
Space and time. Finite and infinite. Power and impotence. Strength and weakness. Attack and defense. Real and the unreal.
And so… his blade sang, encompassing all contradictions of the cosmos.
Telocvovim controlled all in Assiah through the invisible decree known as "Law."
"Let the infinite converge into the finite. Let power unbound and wretched weakness be converted to numbers. Let all probabilities collapse, as truth and falsehood stand upon an unswerving median." (Albert)
With the instantaneous convergence of Albert's magic, the Tree itself froze in utmost trepidation.
Everything came to an utmost standstill.
Yet all Coronzon did was stand her ground… a subtle smile gracing her lips.
That wasn't entirely true though.
She was whispering something under her breath.
Naturally, Albert heard every single word, but realized that they were utterly meaningless.
The trident trembled in anticipation, waiting for its master's command. The time for release was nigh.
"[Judgement Day]"
It was impossible to count how many conflicting phases the ancient god had just used to power that attack.
But all could agree on one thing: absolutely nothing in the world could survive Albert's all-encompassing divine strike.
A strike truly befitting its name, it was an attack that turned the very laws of the world into ash, rewriting it completely with nothing but gibberish and contradictions, thus destroying all it touched thoroughly and completely.
And, its next target was Coronzon.
Surprisingly enough, however, Coronzon barely tried to do anything.
In effect, it was like facing the Big Bang: trying to dodge or evade it was completely pointless.
But that was not what her actions reflected. Coronzon simply hovered around, her arms crossed over her chest, the sublime smile on her lips still unwavering.
Earlier Coronzon had whispered the following.
"I shall unleash my true form. Be resurrected, my Abyss of Da'ath." (Laura)
Coronzon and Albert— much like the other ancient gods— possessed a true form befitting them. Terrifying and repulsive, it was something that had haunted the imagination of lower lifeforms.
However, mortal worlds were very fragile. They were not designed to contain the weight of a god's grand being.
As such, they had no choice but to possess vessels imbued with tiny fragments of their powers.
Not to mention that their humanoid appearances helped mortals to feel a bit more comfortable in their interactions with them.
But now that they were in the mandala of Tiferet, Coronzon saw fit to revert to her original form.
Naturally, it held no particular meaning. She did not take this form to become stronger or faster. She was in her prime since the start, much like Albert.
Nor did she do it to intimidate Albert, for what would be the point? The jurist of Malkuth was an entity similar to her in all respects.
So why, then did she transform?
Why did she choose to return to her original appearance?
It all became clear when Albert's attack had died down.
Albert's attack of complete obliteration— the Judgement Day— had completely engulfed Coronzon.
It presented her with complete and thorough destruction…
Or at least it should have.
"Wh-What…?!" (Albert)
As confusion washed over Albert's flustered face—
"My old friend, you've committed a grave mistake. You are Telocvovim, the law of Malkuth— and as such, you believed yourself to consolidate all that existed under the sun into one category." (Coronzon)
—Coronzon had reverted back to its original appearance, one befitting the so-called Demon Lord of Da'ath.
It rode atop a blue, two-headed dragon. Its right arm was clad in a steel serpent, the crimson of blood blotting out its ten white, leathery wings while snake-like scales littered its exposed skin.
Its blonde-hair, now dirty and unraveled, coiled around the dragon's body like a belt, before reappearing in its left hand akin to a colossal rein.
The demon's eyes opened with an acute ethereal bluish luster.
"Have you truly forgotten, Telocvovim? …That I am a demon residing at the heart of the Holy Sephiroth. That I'm a demon lord despite being an ancient god. My Da'ath is not merely the sephira of Knowledge, but also home to the Tree's corrosive abyss. Did you truly forget that I am Coronzon?! …My very existence an eternal contradiction, I am one who lords over Dispersion and Entropy, Chaos and Discordia!" (Coronzon)
"…" (Albert)
"The consolidation of potentiality to evoke complete annihilation. A strike that gives you invincibility against both mortals and ancient gods alike. But I am different. I'm entropy itself! As the vessel for ultimate dichotomy, it is my role to carry contradictions on my shoulders as a marriage of blessings and curses course through my being!" (Coronzon)
Coronzon's tone took on a melancholic edge— to a surprising degree, in fact.
The dragon's twin heads, as well as Coronzon's own serpent-claw hand, were now directed at Albert.
"I see…" (Albert)
"Telocvovim. Know that I considered you a trusted comrade. Despite your clear animosity towards me, I would have wished for you to be at my side until the very end. But yet… my desire to exist is greater still." (Coronzon)
"So you threw everything away for like what? Another ten moments of this life?" (Albert)
Coronzon's lips slithered into a self-derisive smile.
"I merely wish to remain true to her… till the bitter end." (Albert)
Serpent and dragon roared in unison.
"As a final gift, allow me to reveal my nature to you. For its affectionate hate." (Coronzon)
To love someone to death.
Yet at the same time, loath them to the point of murder.
Such was its innate duality; a demon harboring a fundamental contradiction as the very source of its existence.
The carrier of the ultimate dichotomy that no judge could possibly arbitrate into a single category.
An entity whose love equated with destruction— that was Coronzon.
"I see… I really am no match for somethin' like that." (Albert)
Albert let out a faint smile overtake his features as he accepted the reality of his imminent doom.
There was nothing left for him to do.
Nothing left to convey.
Certainly, he would be left with regret at letting Coronzon live here, but—
His lips pulled into a taut Cheshire cat-like grin.
—it was still not the end.
Everything was going as per his plans.
As its spiraling blade impaled his body, Albert— still a condescending grin on his lips, grabbed Coronzon— pulling it into his embrace.
Coronzon having let its guard down for a moment found itself caught in Albert's web of deceit.
The next moment, they were both teleported back to the Archbishop's chambers.
Suddenly finding itself back in its mortal form, Coronzon's eyes widened at what was happening in confusion. Meanwhile, Albert uttered the following words.
"Now, I've truly got no regrets! [Immobilize]" (Albert)
"W-What?! …Let me go!" (Coronzon)
As Coronzon tried to make sense of what had just transpired, Albert shifted his gaze behind the ancient demon lord.
"…I have upheld my end of our bargain. The rest is up to you… Leader of Necessarius!" (Albert)
Having being caught in a surprise trap and suddenly teleported back to the mandala of Malkuth, Coronzon was momentarily left paralyzed by Albert's [Immobilize].
And…
…even without turning around, it knew something was being aimed at the back of its head.
"…It's you!" (Coronzon)
The demon writhed in the god's embrace, but to no avail. With its channels blocked, it was immobilized and trapped underneath Malkuth's terrible grasp.
It was, quite literally, caged right in the dab center of the enemy's camp.
"Yeah. It's me." (Kanzaki)
The saint pulled the trigger, propelling a .45 Long Colt bullet straight into the back of Coronzon's head without missing its mark.
Normally, a feeble bullet— even one from the fabled Masamune— would not serve to register a scratch on a being as vast as Coronzon.
But this was anything but a normal bullet.
As part of an agreement, Albert had specifically enchanted Kanzaki's weapons with a specific ritual before he went out to confront the traitorous Archbishop.
Kanzaki was Albert's ace in the hole.
One that Coronzon in its hubris would never have been able to predict.
As such, true to the nature of the weapon, Masamune constrained the demon lord's body in place.
Coronzon's contradiction was shattered to pieces by the rage of one feeble mortal being.
"Feel retribution. You're truly someone befitting death, demon." (Kanzaki)
"…!" (Laura)
Coronzon, now back in her human form, collapsed onto her knees like a prisoner awaiting execution, a bitter smile coloring her lips.
The nature of the bullet in her head had rendered her completely powerless.
The demon was trapped in a mortal meatsuit called Laura Stuart. Its fate bound to that of its mortal vessel.
"And you would grant me the sweet release of death?" (Laura)
"I will." (Kanzaki)
"It was a thing I once desired, yet now that I know its pain, its terror…" (Laura)
"You desired it?" (Kanzaki)
"Kanzaki Kaori. Know that slaying me shall not halt the Apocalypse. This world and everything else is fated to be destroyed as Creation itself is bound to be devoured by the great Ayin. You're only trying to delay the inevitable." (Laura)
"So I should let you go? Is that it?" (Kanzaki)
"Oh hardly. I planned to perish from the beginning. I merely wished to witness the final hours of Creation. How about you?" (Laura)
"I have not discarded hope." (Kanzaki)
"Oh?" (Laura)
"There will be plenty of time to think about it afterward." (Kanzaki)
"Hm. I see. It's just as I thought, you mortals are such fascinating creatur—" (Laura)
Smiling, the demon lord exhaled a sigh.
But before she could complete the sentence, her head was claimed by Kanzaki's executioner's blade.
"Hehehe… Whe…re's your arrogance now, huh?! Karma is su…ch a b*tch! Got your comeuppa…nce that you did." (Albert)
Once Albert had confirmed Laura's final moments, he found himself liberated from pain.
Coronzon's last attack had destroyed his anima.
And as such he closed his eyes, at long last surrendering himself to the embrace of nonexistence.
The adjudication was complete.
"So Albert died, too…" (Kanzaki)
The word "died" wasn't particularly accurate in this case.
Both the lords of Da'ath and Malkuth had perished.
Given time they would eventually reform, but considering the impending destruction looming over the Tree of Life itself, the possibility of that happening was nearly nonexistent.
In that context, the word "death" had served its purpose. Both the god had disappeared for good, never to return.
Kanzaki wondered how far Seth had made it.
The saint once believed that Seth completing the crusade would bring an end to their hardships, but that train of thoughts had to be amended.
Completing the crusade would solve nothing.
In a predicament as dire as theirs, the saint was faced with a choice.
"Nika Kurylenko. Tell me, Nika Kurylenko. Can you really do that? Can you? Is it truly alright to place our beliefs in you?" (Kanzaki)
Their choice was not a matter of possibility, but a necessity.
Even Kanzaki realized that now.
Yet it still bordered on impossible. A feat of such magnitude was simply beyond all comprehension.
"Could you truly… "discard" faith?" (Kanzaki)
The very thought filled her with dread.
For a magician, maintaining their beliefs were as fundamental as breathing, eating, or sleeping.
Casting it aside was akin to dying a slow, agonizing death.
Kanzaki knew about this from first-hand experience.
However…
…No matter how much she pondered the issue, she could think of no reason that would elicit such severe torment to befall them— nay, all living creatures in all of existence.
A trial from God.
Many had been performed in the past, but none were like this.
To be rewarded complete ruination for not succeeding at a trial… was the stuff of madness.
Kanzaki looked at the bloodstained Muramasa in her hands.
No matter how loud she screamed, how many tears she shed— God will not answer her. He would not answer anyone.
If so then…
Then… then…
But no, that would be… but then… even still…
"Lady Kanzaki!" (Saint A)
"What is it?" (Kanzaki)
"The amount of mental contamination has suddenly begun to skyrocket. Our magicians have begun to succumb under the influence of the chorus! Ma'am, they have begun slaying their fellow magicians, growing in strength and numbers by the minute! We are facing many difficulties holding them back!" (Saint A)
"What?! Curses, what in the world is happening now—" (Kanzaki)
"Lady Kanzaki! A huge rift has formed in the sky! The song is being emanated from the rift! It is driving everyone insane! We're receiving similar reports from all over the world…! What do we do now?!" (Saint B)
"A rift?! Where does it lead to?" (Kanzaki)
"I do not know, Ma'am! But this started taking place after we received the report of Seth and Azura having cleared the seventh temple." (Saint B)
"…!" (Kanzaki)
On the terrace of the Cathedral, Paracelsus cast his gaze at the gaping wound stretching across the night sky— bending all known laws of magic and science alike, its entrance connected directly to the Source world.
It was, however, a one-way tunnel. One could not ascend using this route.
"Everything comes to an end with this… won't it, My Lady?"
Paracelsus sat down as he muttered under his breath.
His eyes now bled a currency not even he thought they ever had— tears.
"Did we truly make the correct choice? Is this truly how it should be? And is this… truly the end?"
No answer came.
The Great Demon Coronzon— the God of Dispersion and Entropy, better known in this world as Archbishop Laura Stuart— had just perished with a smile on her lips.
Paracelsus had grown weary.
The realization pressed upon him like a boulder. During the countless centuries of Paracelsus' life, through hardship and anguish, this was the first time he had ever felt like this.
The product of their hard work— the rift— still endured. Soon transcendent beings of the Source world, upon having taken notice of the anomaly, would descend upon the mortal plane like scavengers.
"This fragile thing called world would perish. The super-dimensional gods would ravage Creation itself into a cycle of perpetual madness and destruction. And then… with that, eternity itself will finally breathe its last."
Soon something appeared at the rift.
Something completely indescribable. Paracelsus perceived it akin to a grey-colored sentient, eldritch cancer slowly making its way across the canvas of the skies.
Paracelsus knew what that was. It was an Archetype, a denizen from Adam Kadmon— the Source World.
And as if in response to the thing's sudden manifestation above, humans sharing the same sky as the eldritch entity began to mutate, their expressions twisting in madness as their bodies underwent horrific physical transformations.
Madness spread all around like a raging tidal wave, the monstrosity driving human civilization to utter insanity merely by its gaze.
Some of the newly mutated "guardian-like" creatures flew over to the place where Paracelsus had been sitting.
One had eyes like a caterpillar.
Another sprouted the wings of a moth.
Yet another had half of its body rotten away.
One of them had four arms and four legs with another magician's head buried deep in its abdomen. Some of them had their heads deformed into monstrous cavities. While yet others had simply mutated in man-sized wasps.
Each and every one of them were once humans.
A laugh escaped Paracelsus' lips.
"Heh heh heh. Look at yourselves, haha. Look at what you've become with all your zealous hearts and noble intentions, for all the good it did you. You are now no different from us, your so-called wretches from the abyss! Heh heh heh!"
Strong and the weak, rich and the poor, virtuous and the wretched, mortals and the immortals— everyone had become one in madness.
Seeing the creatures gnash their teeth, Paracelsus laughingly, laid prone on the ground.
Seconds later, they pounced upon him, biting into the alchemist's flesh, intent on eating him alive.
Ignoring the pain, Paracelsus carried on with his sneers.
"Ah, this is such a feast for the eyes: humanity has finally become one! There will be no dawn for a new world! All that awaits us is the warm and pleasant darkness of oblivion!"
The once righteous creatures swarmed Paracelsus, taking chunks out of his flesh with the bloodlust of piranhas.
"He he he… h..e h..e *cough* *cough*! So… this i…s death, huh! The rejection of… immortality! Its taste is not en…tir…ely bitter, I a…dmit! All this fear, joy… and pain shall melt into no…thingness in mere minutes! Ah, how wo…nderful! How tru…ly ex…qui…si…te…!"
Giving the creatures feasting upon his flesh another jeer, Paracelsus closed his eyes.