The hand piercing through Van Gogh's chest held tightly to her beating, crimson heart. Drops of hot blood fell, cooling slowly, gathering into a pool beneath her fallen body.
The person responsible for all this opened her mouth slowly, a mocking sneer on her lips.
"The complete Saint Graph... is now mine."
"Meteora! What are you doing—?!"
Selesia was still questioning, still roaring, her stunned mind unable to process the shocking sight before her.
Yet there were others here whose actions spoke louder than words.
"[Hangaku]!"
Behind Mirokuji Yūya, a blazing female warrior clad in divine flame appeared, instantly flashing to Meteora's side as if teleporting. The divine fire wrapped around her naginata; once swung, it could split mountains in two.
"What's this? You intend to kill Van Gogh along with me? My, I never expected you to be such cold-hearted people. Then again, perhaps Van Gogh's sacrifice is meaningless after all."
Meteora calmly raised Van Gogh's limp body, using her like a shield, forcing Hangaku to halt her attack mid-strike. This despicable act, coupled with Meteora's provocative words, filled Mirokuji and the others with burning rage.
"You despicable coward!"
"What are you shouting so loudly for? I'll return her to you shortly. Anyway, I've already got what I wanted. She's of no more use to me."
With casual contempt, Meteora tossed Van Gogh away like a dirty rag, straight into Hangaku's arms.
They all froze at this sight, stunned that Meteora would give Van Gogh back to them so easily.
"What's going on here...? Could it be she was also corrupted by the Outer God? When did this happen?"
Blitz Talker stared at Meteora, confusion and heaviness filling his eyes.
His assumption was logical; indeed, everyone witnessing this thought the same. Surely, like Shimazaki Yuna and the others, Meteora's mind had also fallen victim to the Outer God's corruption.
If that were true, Van Gogh's powers could restore her. Thus, their primary task was subduing Meteora immediately. Her sudden action of removing Van Gogh's heart clearly had a purpose—very likely related to summoning the Outer God itself. They had to stop her before things became irreparable.
"No… impossible…"
"Van Gogh! Stop talking! Your wounds are serious..."
Returned to Altair's side by Hangaku, Van Gogh's breath was fading, her ghastly face drained of color, almost corpse-like. But with great effort, she coughed up the blood blocking her throat and rasped weakly:
"Van Gogh… was always… protecting… and supervising your minds… it's impossible… such distortion… could have happened… without my noticing…"
"Ahahaha, so you really were doing such unnecessary things. Your cunning is completely at odds with your sweet and lovely appearance, Miss Van Gogh. But indeed, without at least that much caution, how could you earn such profound attention from my Lord? You really are annoyingly fortunate."
Meteora seemed to praise Van Gogh, yet arrogance seeped unmistakably through her tone—words filled with both the leisure of victory and deep-seated envy. She truly envied Van Gogh for receiving such favor from the Outer God, which was why her voice dripped with venomous sarcasm.
While anger simmered within them, the others were drawn sharply to one thing Meteora had said:
"You mentioned… 'my Lord' just now?"
"Indeed. My supreme and almighty Lord—the Sleeper of R'lyeh. His arrival will bring eternal salvation and everlasting slumber to this world. And I, his faithful servant, shall devote my endless existence to spreading His gospel, following wherever He walks."
Meteora praised the Outer God fervently, like a fanatical believer consumed by religious zeal, dedicated unconditionally to her deity's gospel. It was frightening to behold.
"You're smart, Van Gogh. With your frail human body, you thwarted my Lord's plans more than once. But you're also incredibly foolish. You were the first chosen, blessed by my Lord, yet you used his favor to rebel against him… Traitor! Just a worthless traitor! Yet my Lord pays you such overwhelming attention! Ahh… why must a traitor like you be so fortunate?! WHY—!"
To Selesia and the others, Meteora had always appeared calm, rarely showing strong emotion. Yet now, she glared at Van Gogh with such grotesque hatred that it seemed madness had completely seized her. Had Van Gogh remained near, Meteora might have lunged like a rabid dog and sunk her teeth into Van Gogh's throat—but suddenly, Meteora was smiling again.
"But that doesn't matter now. My Lord's blessing, His affection, the final key that opens the gate, the final fragment necessary for His arrival… all of them are here."
As she spoke, Meteora raised her hand—the one holding Van Gogh's heart, the complete Saint Graph, containing all divinity bestowed upon her by the Outer God.
Gazing at Meteora with gradually dimming and unfocused pale blue eyes, Van Gogh whispered weakly:
"You... are not Meteora…"
"Oh no, how could that be? Of course I'm Meteora. This body belongs to Meteora, I possess Meteora's memories and powers—naturally, that makes me Meteora."
"When exactly did this start… Let me search through my memories… Ah, yes, I remember now. It was when Alicetaria told 'me' that Military Uniform Princess Altair's goal was to weaken this world's restorative force in order to obtain greater power against the monsters sent by my Lord."
"'I'—that is, the original consciousness in this body—was truly intelligent. Perhaps worthy of the title 'Seeker of a Thousand Truths.' My Lord clearly used his power to distort the thoughts of every living being in this world, preventing them from approaching the truth. Even Altair herself couldn't escape that influence—despite witnessing Yuna summoning monsters firsthand, she still believed Van Gogh was the true mastermind and that everything she did was to rescue Yuna from you."
"Among all the Created, 'my' strength was rather weak, negligible even. Yet 'I' was overly intelligent, relying not on power, but purely intellect to reach the truth."
Meteora had long suspected the existence of the restorative force. She believed that if the distortions caused by Created and monsters exceeded this corrective power, the world would inevitably collapse.
Initially, when Alicetaria explained Altair's intent, Meteora felt a faint sense of wrongness—but influenced by the Outer God, she quickly ignored it.
However, though ignored once, Meteora never stopped thinking, never abandoned pursuing truth. Time after time, with different clues, she approached the same truth, repeatedly passing before the hidden door of reality, unknowingly leaving footprints each time.
The Outer God's influence made Meteora subconsciously overlook that "door concealing the truth," yet the accumulated footprints grew so numerous she began sensing something affecting her thoughts, deliberately leaving more and more footprints—
Until, at last, she discovered the door and glimpsed the truth beyond…
She didn't understand the monsters' origins, but since Altair and Alicetaria described them as "from beyond the stars," surely these creatures originated from realms far more distant than even they, the Created.
Then, if the restorative force suppressed Altair, why didn't it equally focus on these monsters or their hidden master? Was that being restrained by the world's restorative power, unable to act directly?
If so, why did Altair think weakening the restorative force would help defeat the hidden enemy? Surely weakening it would strengthen that being too?
And why did only Altair's power suffer suppression? Alicetaria's explanation—that Altair's ability was too powerful—was unconvincing. If Altair truly fought for this world, shouldn't the restorative force assist rather than hinder her?
Eventually, Meteora formed a chilling suspicion—perhaps Altair sided with the monsters all along. Perhaps Altair fooled everyone—or was even unaware herself, manipulated by the hidden mastermind.
Whichever truth applied, Altair must be stopped immediately…
"But unfortunately, excessively clever individuals never live long. Facing the divine nature of alien worlds, seeing too clearly, thinking too deeply, and excessive curiosity invites only destruction—just like the painter Van Gogh, who chased gods beyond the cosmos all his life, drawing the gaze of my Lord and another Outer God, driven mad and ultimately ending his own life."
"Meteora" shrugged, cold arrogance lingering at her lips, mocking Meteora's foolish pride, laughing at Van Gogh's group who, until now, mistakenly thought her mind had simply been corrupted.
"Thus, 'I' died. The original consciousness disappeared from this body, leaving an empty shell. Under my Lord's power, a new consciousness arose—and thus, I was born."
"You see now? My mind was never corrupted or twisted. I was my Lord's most devoted follower from birth. With Meteora's memories intact, none of you suspected anything. You fools never saw a single anomaly."
Meteora… was dead?
Then this was a fake, a second consciousness spawned by the Outer God within Meteora's corpse?
"You… BASTARD——!!!"
Mirokuji Yūya's furious roar blazed into tangible flame. Yet, as he charged, "Meteora" simply smiled.
In a flash, Hangaku shattered into scattered sparks. Blood flowed from every opening of Yūya's body—hands vanished, his vision darkened.
In defiance, he turned, charging again, but—
His headless body fell, breaking apart into countless points of light, vanishing quietly into the serene night sky.
---
T/N: WHATTTT NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO EVERYONES FUCKING DYING
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