WARNING: Violence, blood, graphic injury, depiction of a corpse.

The Scarlet Needle

Having escaped past Virgo, few senses remained to aid Hyoga on his path. Thankfully, every step his boots touched and the air against the skin represented a starting point to self-locate along the stairway, while June's Cosmos up ahead served as the perfect guide. With these tools, he seldom felt the need to reduce speed while striding towards the next temple.

This didn't come as enough to bring him perfect balance, however. As soon as they reached the porch to the presumably empty House of Libra, he almost tumbled to the side, supported by his friend's arms. "Careful!" she urged him, but then she listened to herself and was reminded of his affliction.

Chameleon looked up and certified where they were about to enter — the sign of a scale proved that they would meet no resistance inside, so she carried him inside. The Temple of Libra was a meditative one despite its long neglect, since it was the women of the Cult who were in charge of tending for unused abodes of Gold Saints. With the way up blockaded, the place accumulated an assortment of dust, and a few tough insects survived therein, spiders busying corners to spin their many webs.

A pair of great columns filled space in corners diagonal to one another; the remaining corners served as space whereon circular platforms were erected. These were also surrounded by pillars and decorated half walls of their own, bearing etchings of scorpions, Athena speaking unto her subjects, and her sister Dike, who oft held scales in a hand. Over the marble raised nearest the exit was a golden box, and its adornments flaunted similar symbolism.

That was the container for the Libra Cloth, the vacant one, the one left behind by Shiryu's master, perhaps the most feared or mythologized Saint in all of Sanctuary. In the silence and emptiness of the temple, June saw herself relieved that they gained an opportunity to rest. In fact, it would be best to do so, for Hyoga's senses would only reemerge over the course of time.

She led him to one of the steps up such platforms, and lowered him carefully to sit. "Here," she said, and this time he seemed to respond.

"Seems… like my hearing is… returning. I can hear myself speak," he muttered.

June came close to his ear and spoke in a normal tone. "Can you hear me like this?" she asked, and to that he nodded.

"I can."

"We're in Libra now. Let's rest before we keep going. How's your vision?"

"Just blurry lights, but mostly… dark."

"No worries, just sit tight. We still have the Temple of Sagittarius that should be empty too," June commented. "Besides, you'll be more useful when you can see and hear properly."

"Y-yeah, I don't want to… to be a hindrance."

"I get it. Just wait a while, we'll go on when you're better."

From that point they reposed, Chameleon more alert than relaxed. Because she wanted to allow Hyoga to regain his sight and hearing without preoccupations, she scouted both the exit and entrance of the temple, and then also the corners and quarters. She made sure that Virgo Shaka had not followed them, and that any other Saint above them wouldn't hurry down, as unlikely as it sounded.

She felt the many colors and intensities of Cosmoi exuding from below, until everything lessened into a single, serene point, and this reminded her only of the Virgo Saint's demeanor. However, because he had become stationary, she wondered if he had either given up on chasing after them, or if he had found a way to hold Seiya and Shiryu back alongside Shun. Trusting of his nonviolence, June expected that she would see her friends again regardless of the battle's conclusion.

At this pace Hyoga became capable of hearing her patrol back and forth to watch each end of Libra. Before that, only the sound of gulping, breathing, and the arteries in his neck were noticeable; later, the nearly stale wind — an effect of the constant temperature changes caused by great points of Cosmos — was deafening to the ears; even later, the sound of the Chameleon Cloth's boots striking marble to and fro contrasted with the quieter sounds, and he was close to healed.

The same took place in his vision. First from blurs of light, second to blinding glares and gleams, and later to a full spectrum of colors. Focus returned to him partially, and despite noise and floaters afflicting it, he could finally see in some satisfactory fashion.

"I'm feeling better," he told June, and she observed that he carefully pulled a hand back and forth from his face, seeing how the eyes reacted. "It's not perfect, but I think we wasted enough time here."

"Things seem cold down in Virgo, but he didn't come after us in the end," she mentioned and helped him up by the hand. "It's weird leaving our friends behind so often, don't you think? But I might be getting used to it."

"If you think about it, we're not leaving them behind. We're supporting each other towards the same goal."

"Protecting Athena, yes. It's just hard to think of it like that." Seeing that he had found balance over both feet, June opened distance and walked towards the exit. "You think you can run? You did pretty well when you were blind."

Cygnus followed after her, saying: "It was easier than I thought. The strangest thing is that losing my senses gave me a different perspective, and that might've made me a better fighter."

"Is that so?"

"I'll have to try it out to be certain."

"Then let's move," she said after having crossed out to the back. June was the first one to launch herself up to the next point in the ecliptic, and Hyoga followed soon after.

When they came close to the next porch, the girl stopped and took a good look at the sign above. The scorpions in the Temple of Libra — those were a mythological remnant of its interpretation as the pincers of the neighboring Scorpius constellation. It was no surprise then that the sign above the next building was that of the same animal, and so it became clear to June that she had reached the dreaded home of her sisters' slayer.

She walked and took in that image very carefully, though her eyes did not betray her. Once Hyoga landed close by, his steps yet somewhat wobbly, she aided him and turned. "Listen, I have a plan," said the amazon.

The House of Scorpio's interior was a slightly mesmerizing one, considerably darker than Virgo's, though the patterns on the marble flooring was quite visible. Starting from each end, the blocks were square and of equal size, albeit oriented more as lozenges. For one pale piece of marble, it was surrounded by four darker, bituminous kinds of limestone. For one dark piece of stone, it was surrounded by four lighter ones, and so on.

Pillars had been geometrically shaped, and in its center was some sort of altar, the likes of which could be found in Cancer. The place was not among the largest of the Twelve Temples, yet spacious nonetheless, and from the side passage to the quarters came out its Gold Saint, the single amazon of a rank that high.

The light of lanterns revealed her enviously long, curly, dark blonde hair — reaching as far low as her knees — as it did the bit of fair skin exposed from under the armor. Her mask was intricately painted with black and yellow paint, in particular in the blank eyes, embellished with long, thin, and sharp eyeliner-like points. Much like many motifs about her, those reminded one of an arachnid's stinger.

For a Greek woman, she was somewhat taller than average, though her toned feminine build was much different from what the more masculine, chitin-like plates of the Scorpio Cloth had in store. The circlet that extended from the sides of the mask to then cover the front of her hair protruded into three edges: a wider one at the center, and two longer, thinner ones on the sides. This extended to a central protrusion that dug the hair in the middle, and thinned into a hanging omega chain, itself a thicker part tapering to a curved point nowhere as low as her hair's length.

The rest of the Cloth was similarly ominous and arachnoid, such as the ribbed cuirass and skirt, stinger-like extensions on the shoulder pads, curved gauntlets starting as narrow shields, to end in many dangerous edges near an exposed portion of the arms, and the greaves ending at a tip opposite that of the plates above. Similar to the Cancer Cloth, its hue of gold bore reddish overtones, although the depictions had been raised in white alloys with the images of a man on a chariot, apart from the sword, club, belt, and shield of an ancient warrior. The scorpion, of course, was a most grandiose sight on the back, the smoothest and most elaborate section of the cuirass.

Her fingers were an atypical sight. It was unlike an amazon to care for her nails as laywomen tended to — like the soldiers, they cared for their hands with the mindset of a warrior and little else. This woman, however, had a fairly long, sharp, pointed nail on the left index, again resembling the features of her constellation's namesake. Not only the shape, sharpness, and rigidity of the keratin, but the deep red polish was proof that she provided odd care to it.

Having sensed the Cosmoi approach, she stopped a good walk away from the entrance and heard the careful approach of Chameleon, who stopped two steps from the passage. With her contralto, the Gold Saint announced: "I know not how you came this far, but only over my corpse shall you clear this temple."

June displayed no desire for words, and her energy burned to its highest, Cloth shining iridescent and lighting up the temple's shadowed recesses. When she menacingly raised the whip to the side and threw it against a nearby pillar, Scorpio slid a boot back and braced for the sure onslaught to come.

Eventually a stride did come from the Bronze Saint, and despite June being obscenely fast, she was defended and countered by that vastly superior fighter. With a sequence of fluid limp-wristed swings, the guardian soon overwhelmed the invader, forcing her to assume a defensive stance.

It was clear that Chameleon did not seek to maintain a proper fight — at least not then — but more to busy Scorpio with the flashiest of her dodges and parries. Intentions notwithstanding, parrying her consistently was impossible, let alone escaping her moves, and the Gold Saint had way more at hand than basic strikes.

With two fingers stretched, she struck June precisely in a seam of the Cloth, hitting a point under the left side of the bosom. In that moment the girl felt her lungs stunned, and so her body stiffened with a gasp. As she was about to be slammed back with the other hand, Scorpio sensed the relentless approach of a separate Cosmos, such that she chose to hurry.

June spun and fell to the floor, then rolled back to a three-point stance, though when Hyoga flew over the two of them, the temple's guardian had no means to stop him. With the elements of surprise and distraction, they succeeded in outsmarting her as best as they could; obstructed by pillars along the way of his weaving path to the exit, Scorpio would've only caught him if no other obstacle presented itself.

This obstacle, of course, came to be her actual opponent. Chameleon put her all to throw herself past the sound barrier, shock waves lagging behind. She succeeded in bumping not only the arm, but the whole direction of the woman's body, and therewith Cygnus escaped without breaking a sweat.

Both fell and Scorpio insisted on trying to go after him, though she would've had to slip off the grasp of June's whip, now coiled around a leg. With the choice of either pulling another Bronze Saint forth with her or blocking the passage, she chose the latter and kicked the girl back all the way to the entrance wall.

She grumbled under the mask and marched on to speak. "Stand and elucidate me on something, if you will," she said. June hadn't fallen all the way through, and with the free hand to a wall, was back up and ready to fight. "How did you pass by the lot of the Gold Saints with a Cosmos so feeble? I find it hard to believe that you slipped past like this more than once."

Chameleon took a vote of silence and strafed about her foe, who seemed frustrated at the lack of response. Once again she raised that whip, and it came to a point where Scorpio doubted she was fighting a human; worst, she began to fathom the likelihood of those invaders being more powerful than they seemed at face value, since they had come that far.

"I am Scorpio Milo," said the Gold Saint in a test June's humanity. "I was born in Greece and trained in Sanctuary, that until I was appointed a Gold Saint. From that point, I was raised in the island of Milos. You have a past too, don't you?" Still, she got no response, but she insisted. "We all have one, amazon or not, so speak of yourself before blood is spilled. Who are you?"

"I'm the target you didn't find in Paximadia," June said summarily.

"Chameleon June," Milo assumed, and the repeated absence of a response meant she was correct. "It is ideal that we are already aware of one another, moreover, that you have come all the way here to meet me. How fascinating it will be, taking down a traitor in my own temple…"

With a loud scream, June advanced with the whip again, ruthlessly striking at the enemy in wild abandon. Her moves were erratic, if not aggressive and fast, every single one effortlessly dodged by that Gold Saint. Skipping from moment to moment, Scorpio either side-stepped or pushed the metal tip off, and when she felt it was appropriate, slid forth with two fingers to another specific point under the Chameleon Cloth.

Once more, June was stunned, at a loss for moves after being hit by that strange technique. Milo finished it with a palm planted against her chest that pushed her closer to the porch once more, risking to crumble back. This left a crack on the Cloth's breastplate, despite how ordinary the strike had seemed to the likes of that amazon.

"You are too eager to kill. Tell me, is there a reason for your betrayal of Sanctuary? Is there a story behind this thirst for death?" Scorpio questioned her.

June recomposed herself and breathed deeply, answering: "I have no words for you, only violence."

"Then I see no use in holding back." Having said that, Milo curiously concentrated Cosmos in that long nail of her left index. Whereas previously she had no interest in raising much energy to combat the visitor, this once she revealed an aura as scarlet as the polish she used, and a power befitting of her hierarchy.

With a leap and a flip of her weapon, Chameleon was dodged yet again. Scorpio rolled aside, stepped off the floor, then rocketed forward with the aid of a column. Ripping through the air, she passed by the Bronze Saint and kneed the whip off in passing, though the true danger she presented was in the left hand.

Milo finally pointed that ominous stinger, and her aim was instantaneous but true. "SCARLET NEEDLE!" she shouted, and a bright, red, focused beam of light was produced towards June's right hand. This seemingly minor blast of energy was enough to bore into the Chameleon Cloth's gauntlet, pierce flesh, strike a particular point within, and exit the opposite side. The process came accompanied by a copious release of blood from either end, and the Bronze Saint henceforth fell straight to a leg.

Although the technique had taken something as harmless as a hand, June rather felt palpitations in the heart, consuming enough to dizzy her for the span of many seconds. She huffed and got up with force, yet her breathing required greater effort, so she took a moment to regain strength.

"That was a minor hint of what lies ahead of you, Chameleon. As my Scarlet Needle strikes vital and sedative pressure points, it also bursts veins within and around. If you don't succumb to the effects of the strikes, you will bleed to death," Milo explained.

"That's… that's good to know," a dazed June replied. "I'll make sure to kill you before I bleed out myself."

Scorpio lowered her head at those words, processing that a mere traitor would have no need to posture as a martyr. She had no time to continue thinking, however, since the opponent advanced, thus she dodged in an anticipation for another offense of her own.

Because Milo had the security to be put in a defensive position, her deflecting of each attack with knuckles and backhands was remarkable. June's whip also approached at massive velocities, though the Gold Saint somehow surpassed that to an unimaginable extent, meeting it midair and preparing for the perfect moment to aim.

After she slapped the whip arm left and spun with a leg extended below, the younger amazon was forced to jump back in order to not be swept off balance. This was a premeditated move by Milo, who purposefully threw the move at an ideal slowness — one that left the enemy at a more desirable position to shoot.

"SCARLET NEEDLE!" Te red beam was shot a second instance, and once it entered the Bronze Cloth through the front to penetrate flesh beneath, nearly no pain was felt. It was the closest that it came to its exit point, however, that June felt palpitations return to her heart. At the height of the upper-spine, a new exit wound reamed itself open, as subtle as the entry, though marked with a great splash of blood.

Her whole body felt stunned and she tumbled back, rolling yet failing to push up. The weapon was kept in hand more by custom than grip, for she approached unconsciousness with the effect that technique was had on her heart, lungs, and veins.

Milo gave a single step towards her and immediately stopped, overwhelmed by new Cosmoi in the temple's outskirts. She came to note a powerful Cosmos above, a powerful Cosmos far below, and two greater ones that seemed to approach. "Strange…" she commented and raised the mask towards the exit "… to sense energy coming from Sagittarius, after all, no Saint resides there. There is that and…" she paused a second instant to take a step back in preparation "… more energy rushes from Libra!"

The darkness outside glistened with the dulled shine of damaged armor, and those were the Saints that escaped Shaka's traps thanks to Ikki's effort. Seiya and Shiryu led the assault while Shun supported from behind, but Milo, having prepared for their arrival, encountered greater luck on the receiving side.

First she flew up to meet Seiya's hand with a boot, and transitioned from that point straight to slam Shiryu's body against a pillar. The Andromeda Chain, which followed them as an aid, was swatted off as she came back down, but because it insisted — as did the two Saints with the Seventh Sense — Milo sent a red beam to Shun, who stood behind her initial opponent.

This was only unsuccessful because Seiya threw her aim off with a punch, such that the technique scraped an edge of the Andromeda Cloth's right shoulder pad, but naught else. Dragon and Seiya were her main concern once Shun focused on shielding June.

After a series of parries that pained the Bronze Saints much more than their target, Milo was able to flip back further deep into the hall, while the others landed close to Chameleon. The latter had stood and stumbled away from Andromeda, as she didn't desire to display any more weakness in front of another amazon.

"Our Lady, could it be that…?" Scorpio mumbled, and at careful inspection, she noted the Cosmos from below had gone permanently dark. With fingers of the right fist tightened, the Gold Saint mediated that feeling ere it exploded into rage. "You have just killed Virgo Shaka. What of the others?"

"Killed?" Seiya asked in confusion.

Shun sought to lower her animosity, saying: "We would never have wished death upon Shaka, he is a peaceful man. Mu and Aldebaran allowed us passage, Saga was not in his temple, and Aiolia was under a curse. His friend should be caring for him."

"So you admit Shaka's death, don't you?" Milo insisted. "And you gave not a word of Deathmask."

"We don't know of what happened to Shaka. We left him behind with my brother, whereas Deathmask…"

Andromeda turned to Shiryu, who breathed in deeply and stared at the Saint's mask in seriousness. "I did my best to handle his body with the care he gave those stray souls," he told her, though the woman seemed infuriated regardless.

"Reckless bastard! Have you any idea what Cancer's death means not to Sanctuary, but to existence itself? To the souls of those you love as much as those you hate! Such imprudence could mean doom to us all!" she exclaimed.

Dragon nodded, and his eyes teared at the memory of Deathmask's end, though he stood strong. "It was not by my hand that he died."

"Than whose hands did it?"

"No one's. His soul was reaped straight out of his body during our battle. I did my best to defeat him without killing, but I failed. For that I apologize."

"Here you are, capable of facing Sanctuary's elite, even having seen the death of a Gold Saint first-hand, yet you dare apologize to me in apparent earnest," she observed and assumed an aggressive stance, red nail aimed straight to Shiryu. "I know not how much of what you speak is the truth; I know not what Mu and Aldebaran saw in your cause to let you through; perhaps it is best not to kill you, though I cannot allow you passage. That is something I do for my own safety, and that of Lady Athena too."

"Killing is not our goal, it's not what we came here for," Shun concurred. "I sympathize with your position, but we must pass no matter what comes."

June, now fully recomposed, stepped forth and turned to her friends to say: "Throw her to the ground and go ahead, the three of you. I can hold Milo back."

Andromeda didn't seem entirely fond of the idea. "Are you sure?" he asked. "Perhaps it would be best to leave either Seiya or Shiryu."

"No, that won't do it," responded June. "There was a Cosmos up ahead; Hyoga might've met someone in the next temple. I can put up with Milo for long enough, but he might be in trouble."

"With how much you're bleeding, I'm not so sure we should leave you behind."

"Yeah, June, let me stay instead," Seiya spoke in agreement.

"I can do this!" she affirmed more strongly, and the boys looked at her in surprise. "Seiya, I trusted you with Crux back in the mansion, don't forget it! Shun, last time you didn't trust me, two people ended up dead, remember? So trust me this once! If you need to come back for me later, then do so, but help Hyoga before it's too late. I'll keep things up around here."

They turned back to Milo, who continued to threaten Shiryu with the Scarlet Needle. "Fine," Pegasus ceded, "you're right, I'll trust you."

"Retreat. Even you, Chameleon; I promise not to hunt after you," Scorpio ordered in defiance of their plans.

Their auras filled the air, increasing the temperature inside, and the Bronze Saints began their assault as soon as June reached forward. Being attacked in tandem, Milo appealed to the greatest of her abilities, though she saw no safe window to use her preferred technique and instead focused on managing every foe.

Whenever one baited her by rushing the exit, she met them in anticipation with an elbow pointed forward. Over and over she took turns pushing back one after the other, the Andromeda Chain a bothersome constant. The circle end, however, was the one that eventually entwined one of her ankles and pulled on it, at a time when Chameleon's whip and Seiya's complicated motions burdened her senses.

Shun felt the weight and his friends noted that evanescent hurdle in Milo's movement, and so they escaped at once. To give Andromeda more time, June placed a hand on the Gold Saint's back and slammed her down against the floor. After her remaining ally left, she blocked the exit so that they would not be followed, despite Scorpio lacking the means to get up so quickly in said situation.

With a painful groan, Milo pushed her chest off the floor and heard the characteristic thump of clashing stone. The sight she had was of a fallen mask close to a growing splatter of blood, and promptly she knew June stayed not by happenstance, but for reasons her own. Fearfully she stood and took in the sight of her bare face, the nude splendor of a female Saint's features.

Her gray eyes were furled in vengeful fury, and the fire they carried was a reminder to Scorpio of Paximadia's massacre. No matter, she refused to drop her own mask, abiding by her newfound desire to learn motives rather than dismiss the girl as a traitor. "You do not share your colleagues' pacifism, is it?" she questioned instead.

Again, no answer came, since it had been given long prior. June raised the whip aside to remind the enemy that only violence remained. This language Milo also comprehended, therewith she spread distance and prepared to continue battling.

When the Bronze Saint pushed on, Scorpio nonchalantly lifted the red nail, this once towards her free forearm, close to the fold. "SCARLET NEEDLE!" she repeated, and the shock this caused was enough that June saw herself launched off axis, spinning with the limb incapacitated.

She landed by the center of the hall and whipped the enemy's feet, lest she evaluated going after her friends. Bleeding more and with an arm sluggish and almost worthless, she nonetheless proceeded with the attacks. Having deflected the lashing three times with the back of a golden gauntlet, Milo struck her with the Scarlet Needle in the lower section of the left leg, followed by another point in a low part of the abdomen.

Though none of the past acupressure points worsened June's palpitations, her leg failed and she crumbled to a knee, and her body stiffened momentarily, balance a fleeting notion. For a second she felt close to vomiting, though with the right breathing, nothing came of it.

As soon as fortitude was restored to her sinews, the girl got up and disregarded the hopelessness of facing an opponent much more powerful. The nausea returned momentarily, hence why she breathed deep and slow to scare it off. With so many points of bleeding, some more severe than others, Milo understood she would not survive for long.

"There is no point to this, it is but a waste," said the guardian. "You will pass out soon enough, there is no undoing it."

"I won't… I won't," June stammered, pain thinning out her tone. "Not until I make sure you're dead for what you did, I won't pass out."

"Even though I wish to down you no more. Why?"

The younger amazon finished getting used to her diminished health and raised the whip, mannerisms as sinister as ever. With her sullen eyes in sight, her expression carried even more wicked undertones. "Because you are my enemy," she said, "and my enemy's life is mine to take."

Milo was taken aback by those words, which she seemingly recognized, in that iteration or some other. She soundlessly sighed under the mask and slid the feet to position, stinger pointed ahead. "Go on, do as we were learned. Take my life before you are out of chance."

Without hesitation, June focused on her next attempts, though accompanied by perilous resistance. Only her whip arm seemed useful for combat, and with a leg afflicted, she could barely keep herself straight whenever she swung the weapon with much force. An enemy so weakened was easy prey to Scorpio, who took advantage to strike twice more with the Scarlet Needle.

One came at the onset of the ferocious attack, piercing just below the chest's core, and it released a major gush of scarlet front and back. This brought back murmurs to the heart, and despite regrowing dizziness, Chameleon spun and cut across with the whip once more. Milo, in her confidence that she could not be struck, was nearly nipped on the neck by the move.

Thus the second needle struck, straight to the whipping wrist, and this incapacitated her hand entirely. Not only that, burning pain swallowed her heart, and she drifted ever closer to unconsciousness. The whip's handle slipped out of the fingers to the floor, and, with leftover will, June's arm still motioned at the enemy, though it was futile. With a last shaken step, she dropped to the ground, dark and light marble equally stained by the blood loss.

So grand was her volition that she still twitched the muscles in an attempt to crawl back up, something that made Milo wonder whether the amazon was immortal. Soon enough, June passed out from the severe injuries, and delved far deep into the unconscious.

Familiar noises echoed against the hard walls of a gymnasium. The wet sensation on her bare skin was not the sweat of battle, but of practice; not of sparring, but of sport. Motion came to a stop as she fell with soles over the texture of suede, thus she continued to move, raising a leg so that it was pointed straight to the ceiling.

Dressed in a blue unitard, she had memories of when she practiced routines in the Kido's gym, despite how useless a skill it seemed to her colleagues. She did note, however, that she was not in her younger body, nor did she wear her mask, and that her hair was as long as usual. With a hop and a pirouette, she flipped to the opposite side, but the wall appeared stranger than she was used to.

The girl hopped forth and stopped at another acrobatic position, a leg now bent behind her in discipline. Her gaze would not escape that sight before her: the bright paint was sliced by a round frame, and amid it an apparent infinitude, a true bird's eye view of galaxies and nearby stars. Chameleon balanced back to both feet and walked over the beam towards the absurd.

Upon crossing the boundary, she noticed the floor could not be seen, though it was glassy and smoother than the fabric prior. Nonetheless, she did not seem afraid of slipping, and marched in a straight line to everything. Soon a duo of tall stone doors appeared before her, closing in faster with every step, till it grew to a size twofold her height.

Wraiths faded in, each by one side of the structure, and they gradually took the likeness of old colleagues; first her friend from Paximadia, Delina, the one killed by her rival; second, that very rival whom she slayed, Filia. Both of them were only shadows of their living selves, legs and arms reduced to clouds; their faces, however, were revealed, both the dark skin and eyes of the first, as much as the tan and olive of the second.

That notwithstanding, they seemed healthy, haply joyous, and looked on at the bemused newcomer. "Looks like Finland's slippery fish was ultimately caught," Delina told her with a grin.

"Delina, Filia!" June felt caressed by nostalgic memories, moments much simpler than war and unending horror. "Where am I?" she asked.

"Really?" Filia mocked her and spat a chuckle. "Never one to think before asking a question, are you?"

"This is Death..." her friend answered more charitably "… the axe that chops the link between flesh and soul. Once you fully cross this place, they may be conjoined nevermore."

"But that should be obvious."

Pensive, June shook the head and commented: "I don't get why you're here though. You're both already dead, so…"

"We are, that's right," Delina confirmed and nodded, "but we're fine. We're both fine."

"Hm?"

"We're dead, but we're doing good, is what she meant," said Filia. "Certainly better than your sorry existence."

There was an odious sentiment in Chameleon's stare to her Dark counterpart, but she offered a malicious smile thereafter. "Whatever, at least you're not calling me a slave anymore," she replied.

"I don't have to, I'm well past that."

"You and maturing are not a pair I'd ever expect to see together."

"Neither are you and thinking, but I guess everyone has the ability to change, huh?"

Delina chuckled at their typical bickering. "The thing is that we've overcome our differences, June. I don't hate her anymore," she revealed.

"I don't envy her anymore," Filia confirmed.

"What about you? Have you solved your differences?"

"My differences? As in, with Milo or Filia?" June naively asked.

Filia clarified with her harsh tone: "Your differences with yourself!"

"Your differences with the way of the world, June. Your differences with Being and Becoming," Delina continued.

"I…" Chameleon's eyes were lost in the abstract patterns etched on the bare stone of the door between them. "I don't think I have any differences to solve," the girl said.

"It doesn't look that way," the other said and came slightly closer. "Here the broken look forever broken, while those purified of their corruption look forever limpid."

"Sheesh," June complained and looked down at her unitard, the spots of sweat, the glistening skin on both hands. "Do I look that bad?"

"That's only your living flesh. Your soul's appearance — the true you — lies beyond these doors." Delina signaled with the head to them. "Take a peek."

June inquisitively approached and placed fingers betwixt the division in the stone. With a hefty pull, she dragged one side, then proceeded to drag the second so that they were wide open. In that instant, she did not notice the disappearance of her colleagues, a fact that would not matter.

The one who now stood in the opposite was a reflection her own, dressed in the defiled, desecrated Chameleon Cloth. Blood drawn by the Scarlet Needle had dried dark, though it covered much of the plates, stained the fabric below, and splattered onto her face. That face — the sacred features of a womanly Saint, maculated by blood and bruises, were undergoing putrefaction. Her fair skin shifted off color, and her eyes were lazed, blank…

She was fascinated. In that existential dread was a magnet, a hex that turned her morbidly obsessed. Having come closer, the scent of her own decay strained the nostrils, though she took that not as the physical peculiarities of demise, and more as spiritual ones. It did not turn the stomach, rather her emotions, sending the mind to a place where one could see above the obstacles of vice. The answer, she learned, had already been presented.

It was there, her own self, putrid, rotten, the source of enlightenment. She could see her every error in the wounds of an internal death. "Milo didn't kill me," she realized. "I did it to myself."

Milo in fact approached the fallen girl in the temple, who had gone unresponsive for several seconds. She assumed no more movement was to come, yet a tinge of Cosmos was enough to alert her like before. At the edge of life and death, June clung to existence and resurfaced, bringing power the likes of Saints like the guardian she confronted.

Not only that, she brought newfound insight on her failures, and this meant she got up an evolved woman, perhaps closer to Sainthood than ever before. Over a limping limb, she struggled and stood, whipless, an arm dead, the other weakened at the wrist. She bled like the forsaken animal of a slaughterhouse, but it was forsaken that she encountered greater humanity in herself. Chameleon was no longer a pawn of mindless violence.

"Let me pass," she murmured, frail voice barely audible. The energy she rose was like that of Seiya and Shiryu; the iridescence of her Cloth gave place to teal fluorescence, harsh in shine.

In disbelief, Scorpio denied her: "You are dying, Chameleon. It is medical attention you seek, not passage."

"You will let me through to aid my friends, to save Athena," the girl ordered.

"The Seventh Sense…" Milo mumbled and planted both boots on ground, knowing full well such a foe was capable of measuring up to her. "Stop this mindlessness, Chameleon. June! Your master, your sisters… I may have been induced to err against them, so force me not to err any further. Without the whip, this cannot end well for you."

"I don't need the whip now," the girl countered, "you do." When June lifted the right arm — wrist and hand laming with the momentum — it glowed the brightest of any part on her body. She growled in anticipation, therefore Milo knew she would have to fatally strike her, lest she lost her own life. Upon striding, the Bronze Saint reached the speed of light, though she shouted beforehand: "VICE CLAW!"

Scorpio's defense came almost too late. June's swinging arm took the form of a curved, inwards edge of cyan energy, fast as it was thunderous, and exploded upon connecting with Milo's gauntlet. That move in itself was a powerful technique, yet the Seventh Sense made it stupendously grand, to the extent of crashing right through the golden metal. The Gold Saint's skin was exposed, and it bled after a laceration torn flesh in her forearm.

June spun while Milo skipped away, but she immediately stepped off the strong leg to give chase and swing for the neck. Scorpio made the mistake of trying to push her with a kick, but the girl's impetus came as too violent, and she proceeded to break through the beauteous cuirass of the Gold Cloth, splitting the alloys and killing all essence. Her raised knee raised was also twisted and luxated by the impact, a feeling that shocked her out of focus.

The Vice Claw ripped the space between Milo's upper chest, shoulder, and collarbone, the injury a much worse avulsion. The impact was so strong that her mask slipped with a flick of the face, revealing long brown eyes, a tall-bridged nose, and pale, thin lips. As she screamed and tumbled back, her left arm stiffened by the affected tendons, yet Scorpio aimed the nail as best as she could at an open perforation. Before falling at her opponent's mercy, she released an orange beam that echoed in the girl's arteries. "ANTARES NEEDLE!" she yelled.

The lean to continue attacking suddenly escaped the young Saint. June instead fell back, hardened as a corpse, and oxygenated blood freely escaped the wounds to widen a pool. Any life left in her escaped the body, eyes staring up at a blurring ceiling. Her nerves could no longer move, a deep suffering invaded her innards, and such were the last feelings she was cursed with before a deathly groan.

Milo sat up and did not dare put weight on that left arm, nor on her dislocated leg. The pain of an injury that immense made even a proud and tough Saint such as her wail, and she nearly dug fingers into the exposed insides in a vain attempt to muffle the malady. She looked down at her own situation, ripped to a pulp, cuirass separated to pieces, bleeding profusely; then she observed June's state, over a pool of the reddest liquid, inert, death assured.

"No, no," she whispered between moans and dragged her body over. Reaching the girl's side, she studied how much more pale she had turned, her eyes stuck open. "June… not another one, not by those hands."

What followed was some apparent violence, a complete destruction of the Chameleon Cloth's breastplate, which was ripped off the girl's body to reveal the unitard below. Thus she was prompt in striking a multitude of points in her torso, some intersecting the holes already opened; the swings were mighty and apparently strong enough to crush bone below them, but this seemed a better option than the girl inevitably bleeding out. That was not all, however, since she turned the girl around and struck more points on her back, a total of sixteen instances, a few ones pressured in repeat.

Once done, she turned the girl back up again and gazed at her expression. She breathed, and the heart thus beat in clear frailty. Surprisingly, however, she no longer bled, sure to die later rather than sooner. "Good, that did it," Milo said and continued to drag herself onward, this once to the closest column. "If she makes it to the end of the war, I might make it too."

A trail was left behind her, from all of the fluids that oozed down the gaping wound to the metals below. Placing her back to the pillar, she aimed the index and medial fingers towards herself and began the same operation, bashing exposed acupressure spots in the torso. Whenever a swing occurred, she screamed due to the intensifying pain, but no better solution seemed in reach. The images of the fallen girls in Paximadia came to mind, and so she teared up in regret.

When she thought of June's pitiless words, the war's death toll, and the Pope's orders she blindly followed, Milo instead sobbed. She sobbed at the thought of Haris' corpse, the cries of youthful amazons, the hurt they were taught to inflict above all else. The senselessness brought to Paximadia was no different than the one brought to the Temple of Scorpio that day.

"A proud warrior... a proud amazon... a proud Gold Saint..." she spoke for every hit "… and with all this pride, those deaths I shall never pride myself in. Never. Much less if… if our Lady dies, and if June…" She lowered the head and let curls block her tears, weeping more intimately. The bleeding had ways to go, so she insisted despite a growing exhaustion. Milo hoped her answers would come at least in death, if not in life.