Special thanks to my fiancé for always staying by my side and for being my favorite beta reader.

Chapter 27 – Petelgeuse Romanée-Conti

When Geuse had lived with Master Flugel and Lady Satella, time had passed normally. When they were gone, it passed in the blink of an eye. Days turned to weeks, months, years, and decades. Eventually, a century and a half came and went, but the pain did not dull.

He had failed them. He would spend the rest of his life atoning.

The world was a changed place. The Od Laguna was already out of balance with the Sorceress split in two, but now that the Sage was gone, everything felt… wrong. Others may not have been sensitive to it, but spirits were, and Geuse was no different.

Demi-humans had always been looked down upon for being different, but now, the animosity was infinitely worse. Elves were non-existent in Lugunican society. The only thing preventing total genocide were vague tales of the Sorceress and her deeds.

Geuse feared what would happen if those outside of his organization knew that Lady Satella had become the Witch of Envy.

He reached into his pouch and felt around for the six small, black boxes: physical proof of both his memories' validity and his goal.

"Hold on to the Witch Factors for me," Master Flugel had ordered during their fateful discussion. "When my soul is reincarnated by the Od Laguna, you shall return them to me."

That was fine with Geuse. The problem was how he had to hold on to them. In order to prevent the Witch Factors from going to another, they needed an anchor, and what better anchor than Master Flugel's body? After all, they were attracted to the world's loathing, and the remaining love from his artificial body acted as a stabilizing agent, preventing the Witch Factor's corrupting influence from affecting anyone nearby.

His only objection was that it fell upon Geuse to make the boxes themselves.

He shivered as he remembered the knife piercing his master's throat, as well as that horrible, haunting smile. Piece by piece, Geuse had diligently formed the boxes out of his master's skin, bones, muscles, intestines, and brain. It was truly a nightmare turned reality.

A hundred years later, Geuse still mourned, for his master had given up on life. He had left everything behind, trapping Geuse in an endless task and consigning Shaula to a solitary existence in the Tower.

He missed her dearly. She may have cared about Master Flugel more than anyone else, but the bond she had shared with the spirit was undeniable.

Despite that, he had left; he was bound to his master's will, and that superseded the woman he viewed as a sister. She had been hysterically crying in Master Flugel's study and had not moved for two days. She had neither slept nor eaten. He could only hope that her sense of duty was stronger than her grief, and she had not starved to death.

Geuse had tried to go back and visit, but there were no more breaks in Sand Time. His sister was truly alone, and for what? To make sure she wouldn't be distracted from her duty? That was utter nonsense; Master Flugel could have allowed Geuse to get through Sand Time and visit her. Instead, his master had acted out of anger, condemning her to an eternity of hellish isolation.

Geuse loved Shaula. She deserved a better fate.

In his final days, Master Flugel had lost much of his empathy, for it was overshadowed by wrath and melancholy. His loved ones became mere pawns in his twisted game; so long as he won the prize that was his wife, healthy and free of the Witch, he would sacrifice any spare piece.

Geuse could not fully blame him, for he wanted the same; he just wished that Shaula was not alone. He desperately wished for his master's return and the completion of their goal. Then, finally, they could be a family again.

He knew it was blasphemous for a lowly spirit such as himself to view them as his family, but he could not help it. They had given him life, gifted him with a home, and loved him unconditionally. Champions of the Od Laguna or not, they were important to him. As such, he would spread word of their deeds, making sure that the world would not forget them.

This was not part of Master Flugel's instructions, but something of his own will; it was a way to both express his gratitude and devotion while also helping the unfortunate in the name of the Sorceress and the Sage.

He firmly believed that the Church of the Od Laguna – bearing the emblem of the Original Spirit – would accomplish their goal one day, and the world would see balance once more.

Now, the Church was a small organization, for memories of the Sorceress had dwindled over time. She had not been inscribed into legends as vividly as the Sage, for she was merely a healer, whereas the Sage was the hero who had defeated the Witch of Envy.

However, in secluded areas across the land, tales had been passed down. Those that had heard them anxiously awaited the return of the Sage in hopes that he would save the Sorceress.

One such community lived in Elior Forest.

Every three months, all of the Fingers would make a pilgrimage to the forest, for it was their most critical task. After all, if the Seal were to break, the Warlock of Melancholy would be unleashed upon the world, wreaking untold havoc.

The other reason was, in Geuse's mind, just as noble. In Master Flugel's mind, it was selfish and despicable to place them on the same level.

"I have already failed Sa- the Sorceress," Master Flugel had said, unable to utter his wife's name in his grief. "Were it not for our contract, I would have failed her other half, too."

"That's not true," Geuse had insisted. "You would have stopped yourself."

Master Flugel had laughed sardonically. "When my wife was involved, I had no self-restraint. The lives of others became mere surgical tools, but I had no medical degree."

Geuse didn't know what that meant, but the following instructions were clear; he needed to watch over that bloodline and protect it with his life. He could never stay for more than one day at a time. He could never look upon the perfect vessel.

He did not question the orders or their meaning, for they came directly from the Od Laguna.

As he entered the village in the center of the forest, he allowed himself a smile, for he had yet again received a warm welcome.

A woman of silver hair and amethyst eyes – the leader of the village by default – approached him with a smile. He had met her as a mere child after the sealing of Hector and had held a certain fondness for her ever since.

The other elves were not often physically affectionate, but this woman ran up to him and tackled him in a hug, laughing all the while. With great enthusiasm, she said, "It's so wonderful to see you again, Geuse."

He couldn't help but smile; Elior Forest always managed to make him happy. "You as well, Eve," he murmured, holding her tight.

Aside from her defining traits, she looked nothing like Lady Satella; even so, as he looked into those eyes, he felt the familiar love behind them. After all, the eyes were the gateway to the soul.

However, it was not half of her soul, like before. Instead, it had split further. Geuse was simply grateful that it had not affected her as it had Lady Satella.

"The Sorceress's soul was split and placed in another," Master Flugel had explained during his final days. "Echidna had performed an unknown ritual on that part of the soul, so it won't decay the body like it did my wife's."

Geuse had suspected that the sealing was even more powerful than simply keeping the vessel alive. He was proven right at the birth of Eve's daughter, and once again when Eve led him to her abode. There, she happily introduced him to two wonderful souls, one of which contained an eighth of the Sorceress's love.

"My wonderful grandchildren, Eli and Fortuna," Eve said fondly. Her eyes drifted to Geuse as she said, "One of them has part of the Lady Satella's soul, right?"

He raised an eyebrow, but nonetheless answered, "Eli does."

With a wavering smile, she murmured, "Mhm. I thought so. The memories had become a bit… fuzzy."

Horrid memories of Echidna's torture. Beautiful memories of the Sage's love. With time, snippets of it had been given to Eve by her soul.

"Is that so?" Geuse responded, deep in thought. At length, he admitted, "I'm not too surprised. Lady Satella's soul had been shared between yourself and your daughter. It's only natural that the trend would continue."

Some of Eve's memories had been passed down, too, this time in the form of emotions. Whenever someone spoke the name "Minerva," a sense of fondness would bloom, for the Witch of Wrath was once their protector.

"I suppose you're right," Eve said quietly. Then, warily, "They'll be okay, right? You know, with even less of a soul?"

'They. Not I,' he mused. 'Selfless, just like her progenitor.'

Out loud, he assured her, "You will be fine. The magic holding your soul together is incredibly powerful. Lady Satella's fate shall not befall you."

She smiled with a sigh of relief as a bit of the world's love shone forth.

They gazed at the sleeping children as his Fingers busied themselves outside, distributing supplies. Eventually, Geuse asked his usual question. "How is the Seal?"

"Unchanged," she answered, not taking her eyes off her grandchildren.

That was good. He didn't know of anyone that would be able to defeat Hector. Then, with a reminder to not reveal the Seal's existence to any outsiders, he turned to leave.

"Wait," Eve called out, and Geuse turned to give her a questioning glance. "We've heard rumors from the village… It is said that there are now worshippers of the Witch of Envy."

He stiffened. He had hoped to protect her from that information for a bit longer.

After a hundred years, it was clear that not everyone in the Church was willing to patiently wait for the Sage to return and free the Sorceress. They wanted her back now… even though that meant the return of the Witch of Envy.

The Witch's Cult had risen. He couldn't fathom how deranged their leader must be to want something so… destructive.

He was grateful that they didn't have any of the Witch Factors.

'Protect them with your life,' Master Flugel had said. 'Their power is unfathomable.'

Geuse could fathom it, for he had seen the world cloaked in darkness.

He turned to Eve and assured her, "It may be true, but do not worry. The Church of the Of Laguna will protect your village."

After all, it was not just the Witch's Cult who would do them harm; outside their village lied a being of great and terrible power. It bore an innocent appearance, not unlike a floating cat, and a body reconstructed by Lady Satella.

Geuse held great respect for Lady Satella's wisdom and kindness, but he could not fathom why she would give something so wonderful to such a horrific being. With a blank expression, he confronted the being and coldly said, "We meet again, Beast of the End."

The Beast frowned. "It's Puck," he said testily. "Our meetings don't always need to be confrontations, you know. I don't want to do this either."

"But you are," Geuse shot back. "You're following Echidna's cruel wish to resurrect herself, even if it harms others in the process."

"You've hurt others, too!" the Beast snapped, and Geuse couldn't even deny it; he had left Shaula behind to follow his master's orders.

Even so, their methods differed. Master Flugel wished to follow the Od Laguna's instructions – late as they were – and use the Witch Factors to both eliminate the Witch of Envy and keep Lady Satella alive.

The Beast, on the other hand, followed Echidna's will; the Witch of Greed planned to find the perfect vessel and overtake its soul.

It was just like a certain plan that Master Flugel had made at his lowest, but Geuse didn't like to think of that.

The Beast sighed. "Satella saved my life. Even if this isn't the same part of her soul, I don't want to do this to her. I want her to be alive and happy. I want to protect her with everything that I have."

Geuse ground his teeth. "Then why? Why not break your contract with Echidna?"

"Because I don't want to lose my memories," the Beast admitted shamefully, like the wretched creature he was. "What if I forget how Satella saved my life, and I no longer want to protect this bloodline?"

"There will be no bloodline to protect!" Geuse snarled. No one else managed to make him as angry as the Beast.

Perhaps it was because they were so similar.

The Beast folded in on itself. "Even so, I don't want to forget Betty," he said quietly. "She's the only family I have; I mean, my… darling mother certainly isn't family."

Geuse almost felt bad. Almost.

The two could never see eye to eye. Geuse was a spirit of the Od Laguna, and as such, held the intrinsic desire to serve the Sorceress and the Sage. The Beast was an artificial spirit and held no such compulsion.

However, Geuse knew that, even if he was an artificial spirit, he would have still chosen to follow his masters. They were good people who deserved to live happily. He wished to protect others from harm, just as Master Flugel did. He wished to heal the world he loved, just as Lady Satella did.

Contrarily, the Beast chose himself and his memories over the lives of the innocent. He only thought of himself and his vices, just as Echidna did. He was utterly –

Geuse blinked twice before frowning. When did it get so late? He needed to head home, lest he travel overnight.

He stepped over what seemed to be a grave of some kind. The poor creature – a pet, most likely – had been buried hundreds of paces into the ground. The owner must have been in so much grief that they wanted to prevent anyone from ever seeing their pet again. With a silent prayer of mourning, he headed home.

The mansion in which he used to live had been retaken by the Mathers family. The Sanctuary was completely closed off, for Geuse no longer had Master Flugel's protection. So, he and his Fingers had built themselves a sizable, yet humble home.

He sunk into his favorite armchair and rested his weary bones – even spirits could feel fatigued after a long journey. Then, cursing himself for his lack of diligence, he headed underground and stopped before a massive vault.

'It looks just like the Seal,' he thought. He had designed it as such to make himself feel better about its security. The only real protection it offered was its anonymity; no one else knew about the Witch Factors. After all, the Witches were all dead or sealed, and the Sage had left the world.

With steady hands, he removed the cursed boxes and placed them onto a shelf inside the vault, one after the other: Greed, Lust, Gluttony, Wrath, Pride, and –

"Truly wonderful, are they not?"

Geuse whipped around to face a nightmare incarnate. Her platinum hair swayed in a non-existent wind. Her sapphire eyes gazed at the Witch Factors, utterly enraptured.

"Who are you?" he asked, guardedly.

She gave him a soft smile and, like a wind chime beneath a starry sky, she murmured a name that sent shivers down his spine.

Pandora. The Witch of Vainglory.

She tilted her head ever-so-slightly. "How curious," she said quietly. "It seems that I have never introduced myself to you before."

He backed up, placing himself between the Witch Factors and the devil. He knew that such an action was futile. "You act like we have met before," he said evenly. "I am sure I would remember someone like you."

"Is that so?" she mused. "Perhaps it would be nice to have someone think of me."

He tried to respond, to move, to breathe, but she had taken that away from him.

She gazed upon the Witch Factors with a fond smile. "I missed you," she breathed. "It's been so long… but I shall not fail you this time. This time, we shall be together; I'm sure of it."

She walked around and reached up to the high shelf, and the cloth almost slipped from her shoulders. She quickly fixed it and covered her mouth with a giggle, saying, "Silly, careless me… Only my princess and treasured one can see me like that."

Much more mindfully, she scooped the five Witch Factors in her arms, and they instantly disappeared. He could tell that she hadn't absorbed them; rather, they were never there to begin with.

Cold, sapphire orbs turned upon him. "You still have Sloth," she idly noted, much to his horror. Then, to his bewilderment, she joyously clapped her hands together. "How wonderful. What a perfect future this will lead to."

With a gasp, he found himself able to breathe once more. Desperate to fulfill his sacred task and protect the Factors, he lunged at her…

"Betelgeuse Romanée-Conti is not here. He never built this room."

…and found himself outside his house.

He dashed in and headed underground, ignoring the worried calls of his Fingers. He reached the doorway, but there was no door; a plain, solid wall had taken its place.

He reached into his pocket and grasped the box within. At the very least, he had not lost Sloth.

Somberly, he headed to the ground floor and confronted the Fingers, telling them of the harrowing events that occurred. As one, they decided that the entire Church needed to convene, for the devil herself was sabotaging their mission.

It took a month, but they eventually gathered the remaining five hundred members of the Church. As the leader, Geuse stood at the podium, spoke the Witch of Vainglory's name, and –

Everyone froze. As if she had always been there, Pandora stood behind the crowd and faced Geuse with a peaceful smile. He tried to shout, to warn the others, but he couldn't move. She put a finger to her lips as if to say, "This is our little secret."

Then, she raised her open palm and began to slowly curl her fingers in.

Five hundred pairs of innocent, trusting eyes stared back at him. Then, those eyes moved closer and closer together. Their faces distorted, squeezing in on themselves.

With pure terror, Geuse watched as Pandora winked at him… and crushed her hand into a fist.

A cracking sound filled the air as five hundred skulls collapsed. Their brains succumbed to the pressure and splattered outwards, demolishing what remained of their heads. Fresh blood gurgled out of their empty necks as they fell to the ground, forming a mountain of deformed, mangled carcasses.

Pandora waded through the sea of corpses and placed a hand on Geuse's cheek, caressing it like a new toy. She didn't say a word, yet he understood exactly what she was saying.

"Do not tell anyone about me."

Then, she vanished, for she had never been there to begin with.

Blood. He was covered in the blood, guts, shattered bones, and bodily fluids of his friends and allies. He fell to the floor and stared with unseeing eyes at his red, shaking hands, as he struggled to control his breathing.

Amid hysterics, tears, and grief, he looked back at the prone, desecrated forms of his Fingers, his family, and wondered if there was any point.

Two days passed, and his body began to burn. He had too much excess energy, but he refused to make anyone else a Finger. After possessing a body – which inevitably happened, he had learned – the Finger would keep his memories and his thoughts. If Pandora crossed his mind even once, they would know of her existence, and they would perish.

A third day flew by, and as Geuse's mind began to decay, he tried to reinforce his will, but could not.

He needed to complete his task. Master Flugel was counting on him. So, he strengthened his resolve and found more dying souls willing to become his Fingers.

As he gathered ten people and his mind stabilized, he remembered how he had already failed. The Witch Factors were taken from him. All he did was condemn them to a cruel fate.

...But they didn't die. Pandora allowed them to live.

That fact kept him up at night. Why kill the other Fingers, but not these ones? Why was he allowed to know? Had she explained it, but wiped his memory afterward?

After going over every possibility, he realized the truth.

She had killed his Fingers, and the entire Church, solely to make him suffer.

The following months passed in a blur. Barring the small community in Elior Forest, Geuse was the last remaining member of the Church of the Od Laguna. No one else remembered the Sorceress, and he couldn't help but mourn her memory.

He dared not tell anyone about Pandora, lest he incur her wrath.

It took many years, but, with the help of the elves, Geuse eventually learned to smile again. They made him feel safe, even though everything was dangerous. They let him experience life, even though he had witnessed countless deaths. They would not pass on without him, for they were as long-lived as himself.

One elf was particularly helpful.

Short, silver hair, as bright as the moon. Eyes that reminded him of his departed master. A sharp tone that never let him wallow. Dedication to her task, rivaled only by his own diligence.

Fortuna, the granddaughter of the first vessel and the current protector of the Seal. Lady Satella's soul did not pass on to Fortuna, so he did not revere her as he did her family.

Instead, he could view her as an equal instead of a liege.

Fortuna's grandmother, Eve, had passed on many years prior. It was not from old age, for a "mysterious illness" had struck her.

Geuse suspected otherwise, but he could not say anything.

Upon Eve's death, her piece of Lady Satella's soul did not disappear. Instead, it merged with her daughter's and grandson's pieces.

Geuse would never forget their tears as they remembered the years of torture.

He shook his head to clear it. There was no need to dwell on old memories when he had a village to take care of. So, he approached Fortuna and greeted her with a smile. "A pleasure, Miss Fortuna," he said politely. "It has been too long."

Her bright smile turned into a scowl. "It's Fortuna. Only Fortuna," she insisted sharply. "None of that 'Miss' stuff. We're friends, aren't we?"

He held back a chuckle. "My apologies, Only Fortuna," he said drily. Then, he held out a silver hairpin in the shape of a flower. "It's not much, but I brought you a birthday present."

Her eyes widened slightly. "You remembered," she breathed.

"Every year," he confirmed. "I could not forget one so important as a century."

She glared at him, but her heart wasn't into it. "Don't remind a woman of her age," she told him as if that was common sense. "I still have my youth, thank you very much."

"Of course, you do," he agreed. "You look as gorgeous as ever."

She froze and turned a furious red. Concerned, he placed the back of his hand on her forehead, murmuring, "It seems you've developed heatstroke. Why don't we take you inside?"

She must have been quite sick, for she couldn't even muster a response.

Her brother, Eli, gave her a strange grin when he saw her face. "Is something the matter?" he teased.

"She has heatstroke," Geuse responded patiently.

"Heatstroke," Eli deadpanned. "Are you sure it's not –"

Fortuna dashed forward and covered his mouth. "Not another word," she hissed.

Geuse pulled her back gently. "Oh, dear," he murmured. "You're so sick, it's even giving you a temper. Let's head back, shall we?"

"Head back?" Eli echoed with a strange smile. "Together? Well, you might make my dear sister even more 'sick.' She's allergic to old, green-haired men."

Geuse patted his head self-consciously. This body had green hair, and he was most certainly old… He knew that such an allergy did not exist, so perhaps it was merely a polite way for them to say he wasn't wanted.

After all, he had destroyed enough families; it was only natural they'd want to keep theirs intact.

Fortuna's temper flared. "I said be quiet, Eli! You should just..." She trailed off as she noticed Geuse's expression. "What's wrong?"

He shook his head and gave a hasty excuse before gathering his Fingers and leaving.

He refused to get close to the woman of silver.

...And yet, he did.

The next time he visited, Fortuna greeted him with a brilliant smile, softly calling his name. She said how good it was to see him, and how she had missed him since his last visit.

Like the weak, pathetic being he was, Geuse met her eyes and said that he missed her, too.

Forty years passed uneventfully. The meager remnants of the Church helped out impoverished villages whenever they could as well as watched over both the Seal and Lady Satella's bloodline. The nightmares still tormented Geuse, but he pushed through, for he would not permit himself to stray from his duty.

He had received no word of Pandora, but for all he knew, he had seen her every day.

Then, upon visiting the forest, he received harrowing news. That morning, Fortuna's mother and father had passed away from a "mysterious illness."

The villagers comforted each other and understood his grief, but they were utterly baffled at his rage, for they could not fathom who it could be targeted towards.

Suddenly, he stood up, sprinting to the center of the forest where a massive tree stood: the home of the sacred bloodline. He slammed the door open and his sorrow intensified as he gazed upon a sorry scene.

Fortuna, Eli, and his pregnant wife – a sweet human from the nearby village – huddled together on the floor. Eli was panicking and his face was a teary mess: a stark contrast to the mischievous, excitable man Geuse had come to adore. With red-rimmed eyes, he slowly lifted his head and asked Geuse, "How did she do it?"

Lady Satella's memories were not pleasant.

Taking a deep breath and pushing thoughts of Pandora out of his mind, Geuse kneeled down and confessed, "I have no idea."

He hadn't known about the torture until Eve had told him. He could only guess that Master Flugel had helped his beloved through it.

Following that train of thought, he turned his head to Eli's wife, Mary. Softly, he instructed, "You must be the one to help him heal."

Mary nodded; her kind face tried to form a smile, though it came out as more of a grimace. With her soft, reserved voice, she said, "Of course. Eli's helped me through sooo much, so it's only fair I return the favor."

"Good," he murmured. Then, changing the subject to distract them, he asked, "How long until you're due?"

She placed her hands on her swollen belly as a genuine smile bloomed on her face. "One week," she said softly. "You'll stay until then, won't you?"

He opened his mouth to decline – Master Flugel had said to visit for only a day – but then, he paused to think. Surely, it was just semantics, right? He also wouldn't have to go to his next destination for a month, so this should be fine.

He smiled and promised to be there, even as he cursed himself for giving in to his vices. Their smiles and sighs of relief made it all worth it.

The days went by, and Mary went into labor. Eli and Fortuna waited inside as Geuse anxiously sat on the steps. He was excited to meet the newborn, of course, but his master's warning reverberated through his mind.

"Do not stay in the forest for more than twenty-four hours," Master Flugel had ordered, his eyes viewing an unseen plane. "Do not look upon the perfect vessel."

Geuse frowned as that last thought passed through his mind. He didn't remember that, and he had never forgotten the words of his master. And… Why did he just think of a cat?

Dread overcame him as platinum filled his vision. Was that a warning? Was the Sage aware of Pandora? Is that what he had meant?

The spirit panicked. He needed to leave immediately. He tried to call for his Fingers –

A harrowing scream filled the air, and Geuse ran towards the center of the forest. He burst through the door in the giant tree and trembled in fear, for a nightmare had become reality. He could not move or speak; he could only watch as the hellish scene played out before his eyes.

"Such a precious way to perish, is it not?"

Pandora leaned over the mutilated, decapitated form of Eli, smiling all the while.

The mischievous, compassionate, and loving boy was gone, cruelly taken from them by the devil herself. His spine protruded from where his neck should have been. Following a trail of blood, his head lay on the floor, a permanent expression of horror carved into his face.

Pandora picked Eli's head off the ground and gazed into his unseeing eyes. His blood poured onto her hands, but she did not seem to notice.

"You fought valiantly," she commended, pausing for a moment as if awaiting a response, "but now, it is time to rest. Leave the perfect vessel to me."

The perfect vessel. The words thundered through Geuse's head, for she was here, swathed in a violet blanket and sleeping in a terrified Mary's arms.

Pandora smiled at Mary and tilted her head to the side.

With a sickening crack, Mary's neck snapped in two, and the violet bundle fell out of her limp arms.

Such a kindhearted woman did not deserve to die. Her daughter deserved to have her parents, but they were ripped away on Pandora's whim.

Pale hands reached out and caught the bundle before it reached the ground. Pandora's ever-present smile turned fond as she cooed, "You will be even more beautiful one day, my princess… as stunning as your other half. Oh, how I miss the days when you were one."

She rocked the baby in her arms as if she was its mother. Tears filled her eyes as she murmured, "How wonderful… The love flowing from your soul is wonderful! Will your love seek out mine? Will your heart crave me? Will you bequeath your gentle touch unto me? Will I finally taste your sweet lips once again? Will this time be the one?"

Pandora laid a softly glowing hand on the baby's cheek, undoubtedly smearing it with Eli's blood. "I shall protect you from your other half's memories and the overwhelming power with which she was blessed. My treasured one may grow from strife, but I shall not break you again; I shall grant you a pure, innocent childhood… You will be revered and cherished, for you are the Sorceress incarnate. I do not doubt that you will be grateful to me for the heaven I have gifted to you."

With that, she leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to the baby's forehead, and it finally began to wail. Pandora pulled back and gently hushed the child, soothing, "It will be okay, my princess… Everything will go back to normal soon, so long as you do not resist me."

Frozen in the corner, Fortuna could do nothing as Pandora turned to her and passed the baby over. "Your despair… It is born of love. Do not worry; your brother now lives inside my princess."

With that, she vanished, leaving two bloody corpses in her wake.

Finally able to move, Geuse stumbled towards Fortuna in a daze. She was crying hysterically and holding the baby to her chest, unable to comprehend what had just happened.

"I'm so sorry," he croaked. "It's all my fault."

"Th-That's not true," she stammered, barely able to speak through her grief.

"You do not understand," he said heatedly, hating how she flinched at his tone. "I was not supposed to stay more than one day, yet I gave into my vices. My continued presence is the reason your brother and sister-in-law are dead."

He was so selfish, drowning in self-pity mere moments after she had lost her brother.

A knock on the door interrupted any retort, and Archi's familiar voice broke through. "May I come in?"

Hurriedly, Geuse said, "She has granted you permission to know of her existence, but you cannot speak of her, lest everyone meet a terrible fate."

He didn't give her time to respond, choosing instead to allow Archi entrance.

Geuse wasn't sure what to expect from Archi when the young elf saw the mutilated corpses of Eli and Mary, but he was not at all surprised when Archi's eyes glazed over.

"How unfortunate," the young elf said in a monotone. "A mysterious illness has befallen our dear friends. I will inform the villagers."

Without another word, Archi left, leaving a subdued Geuse and a panicking Fortuna behind.

As the door shut, Fortuna slid down the wall as tears poured down her cheeks. "I don't understand," she whispered. "I don't understand. I don't understand."

Geuse kneeled before Fortuna and gently spoke over her repeated mutterings. "I must leave now. I refuse to allow further harm to befall you."

She gazed at him, utterly heartbroken. He refused to look down at the baby in her arms.

"Take good care of the child," he instructed. "Upon my next visit, do not let me see her. You must protect her from the misfortune I bring."

He was hurting her, and he knew that. He just wanted to protect her.

"a woman of silver," Master Flugel had said. "…you will only bring her grief."

Not for the first time, he wished that his master had been wrong.

He bade a quiet goodbye and stood up, not glancing down at the bundle in Fortuna's arms.

A baby girl. The great-granddaughter of the first vessel. The perfect vessel.

"Do not look upon the perfect vessel."

He wondered if he would fail in that regard, too.

He came back three months later. He performed his task, kept his eyes straight down, and left. 'I am diligently performing my duties,' he would think, even as his self-loathing grew.

Forest-green eyes and chestnut hair wavered before his vision. It seemed he was exceptional at abandoning the women closest to his heart.

Even so, he had to leave Fortuna; after all, it was for her protection. Who knew what harm would befall her if he stayed?

One lonely night, he thumbed through a book he had read twice before, but he did not see the words. He only saw a woman of silver, and it was not Lady Satella.

The Sage's words came back to him, as they had every day. "You will fall in love with a woman of silver."

He shut his book with a deep sigh. A failure like him was undeserving of love. He couldn't even keep Fortuna happy. This strange mix of warmth and loneliness would remain forever unrequited.

"Such a cruel revelation, is it not?"

He jumped out of his chair and stood at attention, for his tormentor had returned.

"What do you want, Lady Pandora?" he asked stiffly. He then scowled, for he would never willingly bestow such an honorific upon her. He wanted to scream at her and condemn her for her crimes, but he could only speak with formality.

Pandora clapped her hands when he said the honorific, but she seemed to be applauding only herself and her abilities.

His hands shook slightly, but he stayed in place. Did she have some measure of control over spirits? Why was he addressing her with respect? What was her goal? Was it merely to toy with him? Was she here to kill him, like she did those of the sacred bloodline?

"Do not worry," she murmured as if she could read his thoughts. "I am merely here to offer you the seat of Sloth."

But the memories were overwhelming him, and he could not respond.

Pandora's sapphire eyes glowed with bliss as she gave a happy sigh. "Ah, the love in your heart is something special indeed." Then, even quieter, she asked, "Would you like me to show you my love?"

She reached out and placed her index finger on his forehead, letting it slowly phase into the spirit's body.

For a moment, Geuse became the devil and experienced her vices.

Greed, for she wanted them for herself.
Pride, for only she could find the right path to the future.
Lust, for she wanted to become one with them.
Wrath, for she could only love others.
Gluttony, for she desired them both.
Sloth, for not learning to live for their memory.
Envy, for they had each other.
Melancholy, for being forgotten.
Vainglory, for it was futile to resist her will.

Then, her precious memories burst forth. Before her stood five beings of unfathomable power: The Sin Archbishops of the Witch's Cult. They would be the instrument for her success. They would be the cause of much suffering. They would bring their destroyer glory. They would turn her past into her future.

Let the world burn. Let cinders and ash fall from the skies. Let shadows descend upon the land. The Witch's Cult shall grant her the fulfillment she sought.

For so long, she had toiled, but she would not rest until her princess fell into her arms. She would not falter until her treasured one loved her once more.

Devotion. Adoration. Passion. Ardor. Desire. Fondness. Intimacy. Infatuation.

Love. Sick, illogical, twisted love.

As if the skies themselves had split, one became two, and Geuse collapsed to the floor, hyperventilating. His senses were overloaded, but, through the fog, he heard, "You have felt my love, my desire. You know that I have the purest of intentions, for I am a being filled with love."

A small, pale hand appeared in front of his face. "Take the seat of Sloth. Reach our goal together. Let the Sorceress and the Sage rule the land in their purest form."

She was insane, utterly insane. The sheer level of death and torture he had seen in that brief glance…

"You're mad," he choked out. "You desire not a world ruled by peaceful gods, but the tyrannical reign of a heartless monster and the Witch of Envy. You wish to control them, make them yours. I will never become one of your Cultists."

He would keep his promise – at least, what little remained of it – and give the Witch Factor to the Sage. He would save Lady Satella from her everlasting sorrow.

Pandora's smile faded. She bit her lip and murmured, "How cruel of you. You see within the depths of my heart, yet you do not see my love."

Her eyes lost their focus as she gazed into a forgotten era. She twirled a lock of hair around her finger as she idly noted, "I do suppose that my love is hidden behind my Sin… Dear me, how unfortunate."

She was contemplative for a moment; she was like a child thinking about a parent's reprimand. At length, she shook her head to clear it, and lidded sapphire eyes met his furious gaze as she whispered, "You really should consider taking the seat of Sloth. In the end, it would make my treasured one happy."

He said nothing, for he had already declined. She did not seem to mind; it was as if she already believed he belonged to her.

Then, her eyes turned inexplicably fond. She held her hands up to her cheek like a pillow as she whispered, "Betelgeuse Romanée-Conti. The Hand of Orion holding the finest wine. A superb name gifted by a beautiful soul."

He narrowed his eyes and glared at her, hating that she knew of such things. "It's Petelgeuse," he snapped, much to her amusement. "Now, leave this place, Dev- Lady Pandora."

He hated that honorific. He wanted to rip it to shreds and call her by her proper title.

For a moment, she regained her smile. "I am glad you have not forgotten the Sorceress's wishes so easily. One should always remember those who have fallen, especially when they are as lovely as my princess."

She placed a hand on his shoulder, and, through the cloth, he felt her cold, spindly fingers attack his soul with the Witch's Touch.

"Do not forget your love for others," she reminded him softly, watching him squirm with detached interest. "Do not push them away. You promised to be there for Fortuna, yes?"

"Do not speak her name," he hissed. Every part of his body writhed in disgust, but he pushed forward. "You lost that right when you murdered her entire family."

She cocked her head to the side. "Were you not overjoyed?" she asked, genuinely curious. "I brought us one step closer to our goal. The perfect vessel has been created and shall be groomed appropriately."

Conversation was now moot. Face flushed with anger, he shouted a simple yet effective spell, created by Master Flugel and Geuse. "Lo Dona!"

A dozen spears of earth, not unlike the icicles created by El Huma, rocketed towards Pandora. They did not hit their target, for she had never been in front of him. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her smile at him and state:

"Three months have passed. Petelgeuse Romanée-Conti is in Elior Forest with his Fingers."

He didn't even blink. No time had passed for him, but three months had passed for the world outside.

Three months. He had not completed his duties. Entire villages could have starved. Did his Fingers live through that time? Did he merely forget those three months?

He had no idea. He didn't know anything. He was at the mercy of a being even higher than the Sage. There was no hope, no chance of success. He would fail in his mission. He would –

"Geuse?"

That worried yet melodious voice washed over him, and he fell to his knees, crying. "I'm sorry," he croaked, but to whom he was speaking, he did not know. Was it Master Flugel and Lady Satella, whom he so grievously failed? Was it Shaula, whom he abandoned? Was it Daphne, to whom he never gave a proper goodbye? Was it Eve and her daughter, who had died due to a "mysterious illness"? Was it Eli and Mary, who were murdered by Pandora less than a hundred paces from Geuse? Was it the so-called perfect vessel, whose soul was formed by the machinations of Witches?

…No. He had already apologized to them a plethora of times. His plea for forgiveness was to the woman of silver, whom he had ignored in her time of grief.

He looked up and met the amethyst eyes of Fortuna. "I'm sorry," he echoed yet again.

'I love you,' he thought, but would never say aloud. He did not deserve such happiness.

Fortuna kneeled before him, holding in tears of her own. "You're such an idiot, Geuse," she said fondly. "There's nothing to forgive."

She wrapped her arms around him and he greedily accepted her embrace, burrowing himself into her shoulder. "I'll never leave you again," he vowed, knowing full well he was incapable of keeping promises.

But she accepted his proclamation, for her trust in him was unconditional. She would not condemn him, even when they both knew he deserved it.

His love for her increased tenfold, and so did his grief, for he would undoubtedly bring about her demise.

Even so, he could pretend that everything was okay. He may have been a wretched, miserable creature, but he refused to make Fortuna cry ever again.

Time passed slower for him in the following years; after all, he had learned to appreciate every moment. His visits to Elior Forest were always cherished, though he diligently followed his master's orders and did not stay for more than one day at a time.

The Cult's activities were increasing in intensity, yet they somehow stuck completely to the shadows. He did not recall any more visits from Pandora, though he knew that didn't mean anything. After all, he often found himself replacing "Church of the Od Laguna" with "Moderate Faction of the Witch's Cult."

The latter was an oxymoron; not a single Cultist was anything but insane, and their leaders exemplified it. Geuse had learned that the hard way when he had encountered one of the Sin Archbishops while on the road to delivering supplies.

He hardly got a word in edgewise, for the Sin Archbishop of Greed kept talking over him with a truly ugly expression.

"I am here for a friendly visit, and you are telling me to leave? That is a violation of my rights, my authority, my freedom! I, the most satisfying existence in the world, am merely informing you that the seat of Sloth has been gifted to you, even though it is to an unworthy being such as yourself, who does not deserve such an honor! Do you not realize how irritating, how annoying, how frustrating, how disgusting you are? I should be at home with my loving wives, but, instead, I am here, talking to someone who does not consider my desires. I do believe that is a violation of my right to do whatever I want. Do you see? Do you not comprehend how insignificant you are to me? I am Regulus Corneas, the Sin Archbishop of Greed! I am more important, more powerful, more significant, more beloved, and more popular than you, who is less intelligent, less kind, less powerful, less interesting, and less fulfilled. So, why? Why do you deny me? I come here out of the kindness of my heart, and you reject me? Is it because you pity me? Do not pity me! I, Regulus Corneas, am the most satisfying existence and live above your pity! You, who does not know what fulfillment is, shall not reject me! You must take the seat, for that is your fate, even though you do not deserve it! I deserve it, for I deserve everything! Youyouyou are taking it from me, and that is infringing on my right to take the seat! That is unforgivable, undeniably horrible! Were it not for my orders, you would be dead where you stand! You! Not me! I, Regulus Corneas, do not deserve to die, for that is a violation of my right to live freely!"

Geuse hoped to never see Regulus again. All he had said was, "No thank you, please leave." He couldn't imagine what it would be like to debate the white-haired man.

Nonetheless, amidst a sprawling, nonsensical speech, Regulus vowed to not intrude on Geuse's sacred duty. After all, he had no interest, no desire to waste such energy when he could be at home, spending time with his loving wives.

Now, in one of Geuse's many visits to Elior Forest to check on the Seal, he had learned something special.

"Lady Emilia," he thought for the thousandth time. It felt as fitting as her other name.

He refused to see her, for he now knew the consequences of violating his master's word.

"Then again," he mused, "Eve and her daughter died before I broke my oath."

He shook his head, clearing it of the blasphemous thoughts. His master's premonitions were not to be viewed with mundane logic, for they came from an even higher entity. After all, why would the Od Laguna use the primitive, syllogistic logic of the beings it governed?

So, he watched over Lady Emilia through Fortuna. His vices meant nothing if it guaranteed their safety. Whenever he visited, the child was kept in the Princess Room – such a horrid name – and she was kept ignorant of everything. Pandora had blocked her memories, so the least they could do was protect her from the cruel reality that was her bloodline.

Of course, it was not to last. A rustling in the bushes, a child's meek face… and a gleaming beacon of love, shining forth from her soul.

Standing before him was a half-elf with silver hair and amethyst eyes: Lady Emilia.

He had failed once again. He had looked upon the perfect vessel. Master Flugel would hate him.

And yet… he felt nothing but pure, unadulterated joy. For the first time in three centuries, Geuse wept tears of happiness.

He did not see her as he did Eve, who held the same amount of the Sorceress's soul. He did not see her as Eve's descendants, either; he most certainly did not see her as Fortuna, who raised her.

He saw her as the Sorceress, and he rejoiced, for he could finally look upon her angelic face once again.

He hated himself for thinking it, but he now knew why she was called "the perfect vessel."

Then, like a shock to his system, Geuse recalled a time from two hundred years prior.

'The Beast of the End,' he remembered bitterly. It was not just Pandora that sought to use this girl.

Geuse promised to protect Lady Emilia with his life.

The silver-haired child came before him, an unsure look on her kind features. Biting her lip, she said it: four simple words that had once marked the birth of his life.

"Are you all right?"

With that, his vow to his master was broken, and he was forever wrapped around Lady Emilia's finger.

As he soon learned, she was an utter delight: a pure, innocent child, revered and cherished by her community.

To his utter revulsion, he found that he was grateful to Pandora.

Whenever he visited, Lady Emilia would run up and jump into his arms, squealing his name. He may have inadvertently broken his vow, but he had never felt so fulfilled than he was when he held her. He adored her, loved her, for she was a gift upon this world.

One year. That's how much time he spent with Lady Emilia and Fortuna.

One visit. That's how long it took to view them as his family, and it seemed that he wasn't the only one that thought so.

"You look like a mommy and daddy," Lady Emilia had pointed out.

He had given a sputtering denial, but his heart had long yearned for such a thing with Fortuna. Perhaps if he hadn't constantly failed them, it could have come to pass.

And yet… despite his inadequacy, Lady Emilia had called him "Father Juice."

He didn't deserve them, but he loved them, nonetheless. How greedy of him to crave what did not belong to him.

Perhaps that was why Greed came; to punish Geuse for his transgressions.

Even so, he couldn't help but cry out, "Why are you here? I thought that no one would come!"

He was a fool, such a fool. He had thought that Pandora and her Cult had no more business here; after all, she had already found the perfect vessel.

Geuse was a pathetic, idiotic, and unworthy spirit. He should have known better.

Like a wind chime in a summer breeze, a soft voice called out, "Because I ordered him to come here."

Pandora, exuding miasma and insanity, appeared with a soft smile… and asked for the key to the Seal.

Geuse stiffened, for she had learned of their greatest and most deadly secret. He had heard of no "key," but he had an idea of what it was. Master Flugel had clutched something in his hand after sealing Hector and had placed it in his wife's soul.

"What better place than in a dying woman?" he had asked ruefully. "The key disappears, and the Seal remains shut."

However, as Pandora gazed hungrily at Lady Emilia, Geuse realized that it had been a terrible idea to place the key in a split soul.

But now was not the time to think of his master's folly, for they were facing the one who had murdered those close to them. Filled with rage and grief, Fortuna sent a barrage of massive ice crystals at Pandora, skewering the Witch. Those cursed, sapphire eyes did not even slightly widen as she collapsed to the floor, dead.

Centuries. Pandora had plagued him for centuries.

Immortal, undying, unkillable; a being higher than the Sorceress and the Sage had fallen to a simple spear of ice.

'Is… Is that it? Can she truly perish that easily?'

Nonetheless, it was over. Geuse's tormentor was dead. He and Fortuna could finally –

"Ah, your desire to protect your family is wonderful."

Standing in front of them, as if she had never been killed, was Pandora.

He almost gave up right then and there.

She cupped her hands over her heart and sighed. "This love that you feel… You should cherish it. It truly is a special feeling."

How arrogant of him to assume that she would fall.

How foolish of him to drop his guard while facing the devil.

It was unfair, so blatantly wrong. Why must Master Flugel and Lady Satella perish while the devil persists?

Fortuna continued her unrelenting assault, but Pandora would not stay dead. Their efforts were truly in vain, for nothing could harm the devil. Pandora merely returned again and again as her face increasingly flushed. After humoring them for a few more minutes, she raised her arm, prepared to kill Fortuna… but he couldn't let that happen, for he was nothing without her.

As if a ground dragon had barreled over him, Geuse realized he was about to break his final vow to his master.

Pandora knew it, too. Despite that, she wished him well with a simple, "Have a good journey."

He had heard those words before, and his anger increased. Filled with resolve, he strongly declared:

"I am sorry, Master Flugel…"
'…but I must protect my family!'

With that, he absorbed the Witch Factor of Sloth.

It assaulted his soul, trying to tear him to pieces. He was a spirit filled with love, trying to take in the world's loathing. He rejected it, just as it rejected him. Incompatible he might be, but he needed it to save his loved ones.

As a diligent man, it would kill him.

Except… it didn't.

Geuse had broken every single vow to his master. He had given in to his vices. He may be diligent, but he was also slothful, and he did not believe he could change. He could not purify the Sin, for he was not the Sage.

As such, the Witch Factor held firm, and it drove him mad with love… selfish, indulgent, twisted, single-minded love.

A love born out of desperation and grief flowed through his veins like an icy river. His family was at risk, and he would save them, no matter the cost. The Hand of Orion would strike down his foes.

And so, the Od Laguna deemed him fit to wield the Unseen Hand.

A barrage of pure, unadulterated power burst from his back and struck Regulus down, but Greed would not falter. It was futile to try and smite Pandora with his unholy Authority. Nonetheless, he would keep trying, for Fortuna and Lady Emilia needed to escape.

Geuse fought Regulus and Pandora to a stalemate, but he knew that they could break it at any moment. They were amused at his pathetic attempt to save another family. They were laughing at him, weren't they? They knew he had failed his masters, and couldn't wait for him to fail again.

As Pandora died once more, Geuse felt a massive surge of energy, immediately followed by a profound sense of grief.

One of his Fingers had been killed.

"What are you doing to them?!" he shouted at Pandora. His vision turned red as another Finger fell to the void. "Was it not enough to murder the entire Church?! Must you make me suffer more?!"

Pandora was unfazed. He could not fully grasp her response due to the blood rushing through his ears, but he managed to hear something about "last time" and doing it better "this time."

Then, the rest of his Fingers died, and her nonsense explanation was lost in his grief. With ungraceful, unwieldy movements, he continued his assault.

How greedy of him, to press an advantage he didn't have.

Regulus, undoubtedly using the might of the Authority of Greed, tore off Geuse's arm merely by throwing dirt. The spirit clawed at the stub in pain, whimpering as his fingers tenderly caressed the shredded muscle, gushing blood, and sharp, shattered, exposed bone fragments. He tried to call upon the Unseen Hand, but pain dulled his senses, and he felt lost.

Then, the woman of silver returned to confess her love to a worthless spirit.

At first, he felt elated, but it was immediately followed by dread.

"In the end, you will cause her grief. You will be the reason she is dead."

Master Flugel's premonition would undoubtedly come to pass, but so long as Fortuna lived, Geuse would never give up. With renewed vigor, he –

"Archbishop Regulus Corneas is in his mansion, surrounded by his wives."

Gone. Greed was gone, and the damage was undone… but Geuse was still corrupted by the Witch Factor. Its poisonous influence shoved its tendrils into his brain, trying to control him like a parasite. He would need to end this fight fast…

...but Pandora was gone.

He looked around in a panic as Fortuna did the same. "We need to stop her," he said unnecessarily. "What if she finds Lady Emilia?

"She won't," Fortuna insisted, for Archi had taken Lady Emilia to safety. "She's likely going for the Seal."

The Seal. Hector. Pandora had somehow discovered it, and now, she wished to bring ruin upon the land.

To make matters worse, the Black Serpent had appeared; they needed to split up so that at least one of them would make it.

Fortuna disappeared into the trees, and, looking at her retreating form, Geuse whispered the words that he didn't deserve to speak aloud but was too selfish to keep to himself.

"I love you, Fortuna."

With that, he ran through the forest, intent upon facing the devil head-on.

With every step, his thoughts became wilder; he couldn't help but wonder just how much Pandora was responsible for. He didn't know how long she had tortured him, or how long he had been her plaything.

Above all, he wondered why.

Why was she so interested in Master Flugel and Lady Satella? Why did she take such nonsensical actions? It was as if she was taking a shot in the dark and hoping for success.

Then again, with her ability to rewrite reality… that was entirely possible. She may not be able to manipulate emotions or a person's innermost thoughts, but memories, actions, and history itself were under her jurisdiction.

It was futile to resist Pandora, but so long as there was a chance that his masters could live in peace, he would keep fighting.

Lady Emilia, the child who referred to him as "Father," was alive. She was worth fighting for.

Fortuna, the woman he loved above all else, was his reason to live. So long as she stood, he would never give up.

As that thought crossed his mind, he reached the Seal. Through his red-tinted vision, he spied Pandora and her infuriating, calm smile. Crying out her cursed name, he called forth an Unseen Hand to stab her in the chest. With sick satisfaction, he watched her collapse with a gaping hole where her heart once was.

She did not stand. Her Authority did not activate.

Pandora was dead.

He closed his eyes and sighed in relief. "It's over, Fortuna," he whispered aloud. "You can rest, Lady Emilia."

"...Juice?"

The shaking, horrified voice of Lady Emilia tore him out of his relief. He opened his eyes and found not Pandora, but Fortuna, dead on the floor. He vaguely heard Pandora's childlike clapping, but he could not find the will to curse her existence.

Fortuna had died by his Hand. His, and his alone.

His fault. Everything was his fault. He had ruined his family – not his family, he didn't deserve a family!

His vow, every promise was broken. He was a failure, a murderer, a plague, a truly slothful being.

The world turned to white as a blizzard raged around him. He felt nothing but grief, pain. The Witch Factor overcame him, filling him with twisted desires. His arms, legs, heart, throat, his brain trembled as his soul was coated with the dark substance. Why why why was he experiencing this? What was this horrible feeling?

"You feel love," a voice whispered in his ear. "Petelgeuse Romanée-Conti, the Sin Archbishop of Sloth, feels love."

"Love," he echoed. The Witch Factor showed him love for a woman of silver. She had short… no, long hair, and a lithe frame covered by a modest, black dress with orange hems. A sil- yellow flower adorned her hair.

A half-elf with amethyst eyes and a sorrowful smile: Sa–

"The Witch of Envy," the same voice corrected. "Such powerful love for the Witch of Envy. You will bring her back, and your love will be returned."

Love. Love. Love. Love.

She had saved him when he was alone in the world. She had taken his dying, mangled body, and brought it back to life with her love. She had given him everything, so he would give everything back.

Petelgeuse Romanée-Conti would save the Witch of Envy.

Like a wind chime, the same soft voice instructed, "You shall find the perfect vessel and perform the Ordeal."

He would never harm Lady Emi–

The perfect vessel. The key to resurrecting his true love… the Witch of Envy.

He left the forest with a joyful, manic laugh. He would diligently perform his task.

The first, the first potential vessel appeared after many, many, many, many months. Silver hair, amethyst eyes. The village, he must go to her village, for the Ordeal was at hand.

No. False. Wrong. He was slothful, for he had been mistaken. The ears, the child's ears were not pointed!

"This cannot be!" he cried, furiously pacing before the trembling child. "You have tricked me, fooled me, lied to me! This this this this this shall not go unpunished!"

The young girl – no more than six years of age – cowered before him, laying beside the dead bodies of her parents. He grasped the false vessel by the throat with an Unseen Hand and lifted her in the air, bringing her right before his face. He stood at attention, diligently watching as her throat was crushed and the light left her eyes. The smell, the glorious smell of iron gave him the motivation to move forward.

With that, he left the body behind, and his new Fingers followed him to his next task.

The Gospel, the sacred book, given to him by Lady Pandora. It would bring him to his desired future, and he would save his love. He would go to a settlement on the border of Gusteko, for there was to be a woman with silver hair and amethyst eyes.

But he must consult the Gospel once more, for he shall not be slothful again! Even so, the pages, the multitude of pages did not did not did not

They did.

Pointed ears. Elven blood.

Calm, clarity, tranquility filled him as he traveled. The Ordeal shall commence. He shall once again feel the Witch's love.

Then, he saw her, and he was angered, for he had not been diligent enough in consulting the Gospel.

The Witch of Envy wore black. Her eyes were sweet, yet sorrowful.

This thing wore grey bandages, and her eyes were nasty.

He should, he should should hate her, kill her for her transgressions!

So… why did he feel such overwhelming guilt?

"It's lovely, truly wonderful to see you again," the woman said to the gathering crowd as if they were all old friends. They seemed both unnerved and enraptured by her. "I'm sorry. You don't know me. You kind people should know me. I am a Sin Archbishop of the Witch's Cult, representing Wrath… Sirius Romanée-Conti."

Blasphemous. Insane. Mad. The woman had lost her mind, just as he had.

He could be searching for the perfect vessel, yet here he was, listening to a madwoman speak. He punished himself by mutilating his body, for he was truly slothful.

One could not see Wrath's face, but she gave off the unmistakable impression of a smile. Continuing to speak cheerfully and apologizing somberly, she abruptly raised her arms, clicked her fingers…

…and the entire crowd went into a mad frenzy. As one, they howled with anger, and many assaulted their brethren before perishing from sheer fury. Only Petelgeuse and his Fingers, who were a considerable distance away, were spared.

He needed to leave, but not to survive. No, it was to avoid the feeling of guiltshameuselessnesslovefailurefearguilt.

But it was not to be.

Standing in the center of the ring of corpses, Sirius shot her head up and locked her gaze with Petelgeuse, filling him with the strangest whirlpool of emotions.

He was guilty. He was saved. It was all his fault. Everything would be all right.

"My darling Petelgeuse!" she exclaimed, utterly euphoric. "At long last, I have finally found you!"

Petelgeuse's breath hitched. Sirius matched him.

His entire body shook, and he grasped his head as his mind, his very brain trembled. Sirius did the same.

"You are not looking for me!" he snapped, pulling at his hair as he did so. "You search for hope, whereas I… bring despair!"

With eyes that were not those of his true love, Sirius spoke: "You bring not despair, but salvation! I'm sorry, deeply sorry, but you bring love!"

Then, she threw her head back and laughed, exactly as he so often did. "Haha, hahaha! I have watched for so long, so very, very, very, very, very long! Your movements, your every word, it has all been seen by your loving wife! How wonderful, to become one with my husband!"

Then, quietly, she stood stock-still and said, "I'm sorry."

Silence.

He needed to go. She was distracting him. How could he complete his sacred duty when such foreign sensations overwhelmed him?

The love, the misguided love in her terrible, horrific eyes! He must extinguish it!

Biting at his fingers, he declared, "Your husband, he is not me! Such a slothful, misguided existence! I shall not follow! Hate me, loath me, revile me, leave me! My love belongs to the Witch of Envy, and you are delaying my mission! The shrine, she is tied to it, to the Citadel of Shadows, and I must save her! I must seek the perfect vessel, and you are not her! Youyouyou cannot! Imitate! My! Beloved!"

They stared each other down, neither relenting. Her vile, unkind eyes bore into his as she spoke evenly. "Then I condemn those with the Witch's blood to death. If you find the perfect vessel, I shall kill her. With no one else to love, you shall fall for me."

Like an assailant in the night, she leaped onto a nearby building and dashed away, but not before giving one final promise:

"We shall become one, my beloved Petelgeuse. I shall always watch you, follow you. I am sorry, but I will always be there."

Without another word, Petelgeuse fled with his Fingers, for even though Sirius had left, her eyes were burned into his mind.

He fell to his knees and tore at his face, for those were not the eyes he was seeking. He was slothful, truly slothful, for he was failing the woman of silver.

Over the years, he atoned for his sin by sacrificing others in the name of the Witch of Envy. Fire and brimstone rained from the sky upon villages, towns, and cities, for he was a slothful being and could not find the perfect vessel.

Occasionally, he glimpsed his self-proclaimed wife stalking him. He ran every time.

Decades passed. Lady Pandora gifted him dozens of Cultists to accompany him, for the other Archbishops were slothful and had fallen in battle.

The Gospel often spoke to him, giving him the will of the Witch. Thousands died, and the Witch's love for him grew. The Cult was truly feared, and the Witch's name became sacred. None dared speak the name of his beloved.

The Sage, they spoke of the Sage who sealed the Witch of Envy. The moniker filled Petelgeuse with hatred. He despised the Sage even more than he despised the Sword Saint and the Divine Dragon.

Any female half-elf of silver and amethyst was forced through the Ordeal. One in particular stood out to him: a half-elf named Evelyn. For generations, her father's family had hidden from the world, but nothing could escape the Gospel's watchful eye.

"How perfect!" he extolled, circling the woman that he had bound with his Authority. "The visage of the Witch has been bestowed upon you! Ahhh, my brain trembles with delight, for the Witch's love shall appear before me!"

In the depths of his shredded sanity, a voice whispered that she was not the perfect vessel. The eyes were too far apart, the irises were the wrong shade of purple, and the silver hair was too dull.

However, the Gospel had identified her as the perfect vessel, and the Gospel did not lie!

The chant, the sacred chant. He incanted the eldritch, abominable, beautiful words from memory as he slammed the woman to the ground, grinning all the while. Not pausing his chorus of magic, he held out his hand, and his Finger diligently placed a ceremonial dagger in his open palm.

'Now is the time, the time!' he cheered within his mind, for he could not stop the ritual. 'The! Witch! Shall! Not! Be! Tied! To! The! Shrine! She shall be anchored here, with this vessel, at my side! But she will not take a corpse as a vessel, oh no; she shall thrum with life, with love! I shall be rewarded with romantic love, familial love, platonic love, the Witch's love!'

Then… he stopped, utterly calm all of a sudden. The mana in the air threatened to suffocate him, but that was fine. The Ordeal was nearly complete.

He raised the dagger high and plunged it into the girl's heart, muffling her screams with an Unseen Hand. Twisting the knife, he watched with a hint of excitement as the life left her eyes.

He would need to work quickly.

The soul of the woman wriggled its way out of the body, and he gazed at it in hunger. He needed to prepare her for possession. First, he must grasp it with an Authority and –

The Unseen Hand phased through the soul. The Authority of Sloth could not perform the Ordeal. He had failed once again.

As the soul returned to the Od Laguna, Petelgeuse tore his eyes out, for he was slothful and could not bear to see his failure.

Nonetheless, he would try again, try an infinite number of times. His eyes would regenerate in a few days, yes? He would seek out another vessel, and he would –

…A warmth in his robe. The Gospel speaks.

He could not read it without his eyes.

He wailed in rage, for a vessel had been revealed, and he could not reach it.

Four days passed. The entire time, he waited in agony and impatience; his eye sockets pointed at a book he could not see. Finally, the world became blurry enough for him to discern his future.

There, she was there! He danced and cheered, for she would be there!

He ran, ran, ran through the night at unfathomable speeds. He did not rest, not eat, not drink, not sleep, for her soul was there. The Ordeal, someone else must have performed the Ordeal! But he he he had worked so hard; her love, his diligence would be rewarded with love!

His Fingers, surely, they would come! His tools, his disciples, they shall assist him!

But they were gone.

He looked to his left, his right, behind him, above him, below him. They were gone; picked off by an unknown assailant. Only he had been spared.

His Witch Factor… It was no longer split. It was merely him and the boundless energy that dwelled within.

His Fingers were dead.

"How truly amazing!" he exclaimed, utterly euphoric. "They will soon meet the Witch!"

What perfection, what glory, what love! He ran alone, for they were all…

All…

There. Right there.

Silver hair, as bright as the moon. Amethyst eyes filled with otherworldly sorrow. A modest black dress with orange hems, hiding everything below her shoulders. Silver hair, adorned by a yellow flower hairpin.

And her face, what a gorgeous face it was! Kindness shone through, and sorrow leaked from her eyes. Her high, regal cheekbones belied overwhelming power, and her lips were set in a thin line.

"You're here," he said in disbelief. "My lovely Satella, the Witch of Envy, you have waited for me!"

Her eyes shot up to meet his, and all was silent for a moment. It was her soul, hers! She was finally free!

"Petelgeuse Romanée-Conti," she whispered like the chime of a silver bell. "Your diligence has been noted."

Noted. Noted. Notednotednotednotednotednoted

"Sweet, glorious salvation!" he cheered.

But… something was wrong. The Witch's love… The intoxicating miasma was missing. The soul, it was wrong, all wrong, not right, it was not complete!

No! He must reject such sinful thoughts! He was disgusting, truly slothful for doubting her! The Gospel said that the Ordeal had been performed! This had to have been the perfect vessel! He pulled at his hair in punishment, for he was truly –

"No!"

The Witch ran over and knelt before him with tears in her eyes. Pale hands stripped his pallid ones away from his face as she gazed somberly at him. "Do not hurt yourself," she begged. "'Twas hard enough to know of your fate; I cannot bear to see you injured any more than you already are."

Beautiful love. Kind love. Platonic love. Romantic love? No, familial love!

The Witch's love!

She let go of his hands and hovered her own, glowing ones over various parts of his body, healing them. After all, even for a spirit such as himself, not everything would regenerate. However, at the mere touch of the Witch, his body was as good as new.

He threw his head back and laughed, starling her. "My brain trembles!" he shouted in delight. "The warm touch of the Witch heals my sinful soul!"

She burst into fresh tears at his words. She must be having trouble containing her love! How incredible!

Thin arms wrapped around his neck and she pulled him close. "Everything will be okay," she murmured into his ear. "He will heal you; I promise."

His mind ground to a halt at her warm touch. The word "heal" did not process, for something was amiss.

"Who is this 'he' you speak of?" Petelgeuse asked, pushing down his jealousy. "Is this the diligent soul who had performed the Ordeal?"

She considered his question for a moment before carefully responding, "He is the Sin Archbishop of Envy."

Envy. Envy. The Sin Archbishop of Envy. The Cult did not have such a position.

However, as she led him by the hand into a mansion, he realized how futile it was to deny her anything.

Deeper into the ground they went, but despite that, his connection to the earth felt weaker with every step. It was as if he had lost connection to his gate. However, he did not worry. His Fingers were dead, so he had one hundred Unseen Hands instead of seven.

He also had the Witch to protect him. He was safe, relieved, home.

Home. This place was home. A master bedroom, hidden within a library, opened only by a passcode and his mana. That was his home, and he would once again share it with his love.

Then, they stopped. "We are here," the Witch murmured. She turned to him, concerned. "Are you feeling okay?"

He held his head in his hands and arched his back as ecstasy filled him. "Yesyesyesyes yes, I am delighted, for the Witch has turned her eyes upon me! A hundred, a thousand, a million years of waiting! My! Love! Has! Been! Returned! My brain trembles!"

She did not smile. She merely looked heartbroken. Choking down her tears, she asked, "If I may ask… why do you love me so much?"

The words poured from his mouth without needing to think. "You saved me when I was alone in the world. You took my dying, mangled body, and brought it back to life with your love. You have given me everything, so I will give everything back. I want to give you light. I want to take you by the hand and show you the world outside. Whenever you're having nightmares, I'll kiss the tears away, just like you do for me. You'll never be alone because I'll always be by your side. I love you, and I promise to prove it every day for the rest of our lives."

Her response, he knew her response as strongly as he knew the Gospel's word!

"You… would do that for me?"

But she did not say those blessed words. Instead, a strangely familiar male voice spoke:

"I hate to say it, but that explains a ton."

It sounded like his own voice. It didn't sound anything like him.

He loathed that voice, and he loathed who it belonged to. However, as he whirled around to face the being, the instinctual hatred faded, for the man was coated in the Witch's love. With reverence, he proclaimed, "It is an honor to meet you, Oh Great, Almighty Sin Archbishop of Envy."

No response. How fitting for a man of his station.

Then, the unthinkable happened.

He turned to the Witch without a shred of reverence, and asked, "Really? What happened to 'My Champion?'"

The informality! The dishonor! The lack of respect!

The Witch's eyes lowered. "'Tis… I mean, um, it sounded good at the moment…"

He waved her off with a simple, "Eh, it worked out in the end. Thanks, Emilia."

Emilia.

Emilia!

Emilia!

Not Satella!

This was not the Witch of Envy!

Tricked, fooled, deluded, misled, swindled, cheated!

The vessel, the perfect vessel had tricked him!

With a hoarse scream, he sent out seven Unseen Hands towards the vessel, intent upon performing the Ordeal on the heretic.

They never reached their target.

Green, like a familiar forest. Seven ethereal, yet visible, hands caught his own.

The Sin Arch- the liar, the false Envy, could see the Unseen Hand! He was using a mockery of the Authority of Sloth!

Petelgeuse tried to unleash more Unseen Hands, but, to his bewilderment, could not conjure any. He fell to his knees and vomited blood as scarlet tears leaked from his eyes.

Why couldn't he use his Authority? His Fingers were dead! He had his entire Witch Factor! He should have a hundred Hands!

The false Envy! The blasphemous, visible Hands used were disrupting his Authority!

He screamed for the Witch – the real Witch – to help him, but nobody came.

The heretic kneeled before him and placed a soft hand on his cheek. With deceitful concern, she whispered, "Please, Jui- Geuse… Let us help you."

He spat in her face and tried to headbutt her, but three ethereal hands pushed him roughly to the floor. He squirmed and flailed, but he was trapped.

Not taking his eyes off Petelgeuse, the false Envy quietly said to the heretic, "Why don't you head on outside? Take out any spare cultists and all that."

"But Crusch's Camp is already doing that," the heretic protested. "I'm not going to leave you alone!"

"I don't want you to have to see him like this any more than you have to," the false Envy said firmly.

Desperately, she said, "But your trance –"

"Will be easy to maintain. Thanks to you, my emotions are more settled than they've ever been." His eyes flicked to hers for a moment before settling back upon the writhing Petelgeuse. "Also, seeing you dressed like that is messing with my head."

She looked at him for a moment longer before whispering, "Be safe, my love."

Then, she ran out, leaving Sloth with the false Envy.

"Petelgeuse Romanée-Conti," the dark-haired man said flatly. He struggled with himself for a moment before snarling, "Damn it, I want to strangle you right now."

An eleventh ethereal hand came out and covered the spirit's mouth before he could respond.

"No talking," the false Envy spat. "No possession, either, because I already have a contracted spirit. The only reason I haven't beaten the shit out of you is because I know that the real Geuse is in there somewhere."

He stood there with an imposing presence and fire in his eyes. Seven green hands protruded from his gut, wrangling seven Unseen Hands into submission. Three more held Petelgeuse to the floor, while another prevented the spirit from speaking.

He was in total control.

"You have no idea what you've done to me and my loved ones," he growled. "You killed Emilia. You tortured Rem before brutally murdering her. You massacred Ram, Petra, and all the other villagers. Hell, in one of the loops, you might have even killed Beatrice."

He struggled with himself for a moment before grabbing Petelgeuse by the hair and shoving their faces closer. "Four times," he said angrily. "I died four times because of you."

His face twisted as tears threatened to fall. "I froze to death because of you! My f-friend needed to murder me because of you! Emilia died because of you! It's you! Your fault! Not mine! Screw the whole, 'If I was faster, I could have saved her' mindset! No, it was because you came!"

He was heaving now, looking much worse for wear. Eventually, he caught his breath enough to say, "That's a lie… I killed Emilia because I was afraid of suffering alone."

Petelgeuse hadn't truly listened to any of that. He was too busy trying to escape.

The false Envy sighed deeply. "Well, I don't feel any better. Didn't with Dona, didn't with you. At least you didn't process any of that; I'd feel like shit if anyone knew."

Abruptly, a twelfth hand burst out of the false Envy's gut and struck Petelgeuse across the temple, dazing him.

"Sorry, Geuse," the false Envy muttered. "I needed you to be still for a moment. It should make things easier."

A moment later, they locked eyes…

Subaru fell onto his rear, gasping for breath. He had never gone so deep when using True Face; normally, he merely unraveled metaphorical threads or watched memories from a third-person perspective… but this was an entirely different experience. It was as if those were his memories, and not someone else's.

Four hundred years full of knowledge, experience, love, regret, heartbreak, insanity, and murderous intent had been poured into his head. He had even managed to discover and break through many of Pandora's memory blocks.

That entire time, he was Geuse, and he felt guilt.

Thousands were dead by his hand. He had murdered the love of his life.

At that moment, he wished for death more than anything else. What a wretched, slothful existence.

Even though he had regained himself and remembered his reasons to live, that feeling was still burned in his memory.

What felt like an eternity, but was likely only minutes, passed with only the sounds of exhausted panting and hysterical crying.

Dead, pale skin. Murmured, incomprehensible whispers. The spirit tore at his hair and tried to bite off his fingers.

Even so, this was unquestionable Geuse.

Subaru reached forward but instantly retreated. Physical habits built up over a hundred years were not easily removed. Not to mention that the Fingers were likely dead by now; Geuse was undoubtedly bursting with uncontrollable energy. It was pointless to try and stop his self-harm at the moment.

At a loss, Subaru activated Cor Leonis, taking the full burden from his old friend. His entire body ached and he felt like his fingers were being torn off, but it was the least he could do. All that was left was to wait…

And wait…

A half-hour passed. Subaru waited patiently. Geuse had long since run out of tears and was instead sitting there, shaking. His knees were pulled to his chest and he rested his forehead on them as he wrapped his arms around himself. He was like a crying child, unable to face the consequences of his actions.

After what Subaru had seen, he couldn't blame the spirit. He felt like crying, too.

He couldn't help but wonder if they had saved Geuse or condemned him to a life of misery.

Eventually, Geuse looked up. His eyes, previously the only part of him that looked alive, were as dead as his sunken cheeks. With the slightest spark of recognition, he quietly croaked, "Master Flugel? You've… finally returned?"

Subaru choked out a laugh. "After everything I've done, you still call me Master?" he asked in disbelief. "Please, it's just Subaru."

A slow nod. "As you wish, Master Just Subaru."

There was no humor in his voice, merely regret and exhaustion.

His eyes finally left Subaru's as he looked the other man up and down. "No aura of the world's love," he noted. "You're so… wonderful without it. To think that it affects certain others even more…"

Subaru frowned. Slowly, he said, "You know, I never realized just how strangely you viewed us. Gods? I mean, Ella is seriously a goddess, yeah, but me?" He shook his head in denial. "I'm just Subaru: a loser that happens to be compatible with Authorities."

Geuse was too tired to argue. Changing the subject, he asked, "Is it gone? The Witch Factor?"

At Subaru's nod, he relaxed ever-so-slightly and murmured, "I figured that's what you were doing. Granted, I don't remember much of the last few hours…" He missed Subaru's relieved sigh. "…but I remember seeing a girl. She looked just like…"

At Geuse's guilty yet wistful look, Subaru confirmed, "Yeah, that's Emilia."

He would give more details later. The spirit was going through enough right now.

"Lady Emilia." Geuse had not spoken that name in a century. "She's alive. Healthy." He burrowed his face in his hands and whimpered, "I tried to kill her… tried to kill both of you!"

He tried to bite off his fingers, but Subaru was having none of that. "It's not your fault," Subaru insisted. "It was the Witch Factor's influence."

"Then what about everything before that?!" Geuse cried, utterly broken. "I lost the Witch Factors! The entire Church was killed! The sacred bloodline was eradicated! I killed Fortuna!"

"What about my crimes?!" Subaru shot back. "Knowing you, you don't blame me!"

Geuse fell silent for a moment as he considered what to say. "There's one thing I blame you for," he admitted ruefully, much to Subaru's surprise. "Lady Satella's degradation had nothing to do with it. It was cruel, unnecessary, and made in a fit of anger."

For the first time, Geuse condemned the Sage: "You abandoned my sister."

Subaru gaped, but could not speak, for a lump had formed in his throat. Unbidden, tears welled up in his eyes, and he wept like the pathetic, regretful creature that he was.

Despite what others claimed, he truly had no excuse, and he drowned in his self-pity.

When the tears finally stopped falling, he muttered, "Damn, I can't believe I'm saying this, but I need a drink."

Geuse observed Subaru's soul and one of the Witch Factors writhing inside. "Can we even get drunk?" he asked weakly.

Subaru thought for a moment. "I doubt it," he admitted. He rubbed the back of his neck in shame. "Last time, I had built up an insane tolerance, but this time… Well, it's still a great bonding activity. We might even yell at each other a few times. Catharsis, you know?" His eyes twinkled with mischief as he added, "Besides, I want to hear some stories about Loli Emilia."

Geuse raised his eyebrows, but eventually remembered the strange word from Kararagi. He thought for a moment, and, with a hint of his old self, said, "I do have a few stories about your… lady friend's younger years." At Subaru's shocked face, he asked, "Did you think I would not notice how you two looked at each other? It's identical to you and Lady Satella."

Subaru fidgeted uncomfortably as he admitted, "I was planning on letting you, you know, adjust to sanity for a bit before I told you." He took a deep breath and asked, "Are you upset?"

Geuse tilted his head to the side. The action unnerved Subaru, for it was tied to the face of a madman. He hoped they could find new Fingers soon and give Geuse a healthier body.

"I am not," the spirit answered. "All is as it should be."

Subaru gaped. "But she's like your daughter!" he said incredulously, ignoring just how strange his family tree was. "Regardless of your weird beliefs, aren't you supposed to be all overprotective?"

Geuse shook his head. "If there's one person I trust to put their spouse before themselves, it's you."

Subaru wasn't sure whether to smile or flinch.

Eventually, he stood up and slowly helped Geuse to his feet. "Careful," he warned. "You took quite a few blows. Uh, sorry about that."

Geuse tried to nod but could barely manage it in his exhaustion.

"Let's get you some fresh air," Subaru recommended as the spirit leaned on him. "Granted, it might be a bit messy outside. Our allied Camp is taking out the Cultists that were following you, and they probably took out your Fingers, too."

No response. There was no love lost for those vile zealots.

Using Door Crossing, they made their way outside and saw something truly horrifying. Unable to hold themselves up, they both fell to their knees in shock.

All the Cultists were dead, but so was everyone fighting them.

Immobile and slain, a pale Crusch reached out to a headless Felix.

Wilhelm lay face-first in the dirt, mere hours after reconciling with his grandson.

Hundreds of soldiers had perished in the battle. Crusch's Camp was completely eradicated.

But nothing, nothing hurt more than the corpse in the center.

Lying in a pool of her own blood was a beautiful woman with blood-caked silver hair and empty amethyst eyes, staring up at nothing.