The chamber roared with applause. The echoes of steel and shadow were gone now, replaced by cheers, clapping, and the hum of awe. Michi stood at the center, his body still trembling from his ordeal, but his chest lifted with breath he hadn't taken in what felt like lifetimes.
Lior's voice was the first to cut through: "Michi! You did it!" His grin stretched wide, rare relief shining in his eyes.
Kael folded his arms with a small smirk, though his words betrayed sincerity. "Not bad… you didn't get yourself killed after all."
Junia and Tieu rushed forward, faces bright. Tieu's usually calm tone wavered in excitement. "Brother Michi… I was so worried."
Junia jabbed her finger toward him. "I knew you'd survive! You always find a way."
Tiana let her snakes rest across her shoulders as she gave him a nod. "Still, you look like hell."
The teasing only widened as Julia and Eric joined in. Julia's laughter was musical. "Our little despair-warrior finally claimed a victory. How does it feel, Michi?"
Eric elbowed him lightly. "Guess you're a VIP not only to kings but to despair itself."
The chamber's dark air lightened as the Four Horsemen themselves gave a solemn nod. Even Melancholy, seated on his throne of black stone, raised his hand in a slow, deliberate clap. "Well done, Michi. You did not crumble. You rose. The path ahead will be darker still, but you have taken the first step."
Soon after, the great halls of Mélovetsia were transformed. Candles burned, tables stretched endlessly, and food—strange, glowing, sometimes unsettling yet undeniably fragrant—lined every plate. A banquet in the land of despair was not grim at all; it was vibrant, alive, and rich.
Makoa and Vixor entered together, both looking calmer than usual. Vixor carried a silver bowl filled with a liquid the color of blood. Makoa approached Michi, lifting the bowl carefully.
"This is tradition," Makoa said, his voice solemn. "A seal and a bond. To walk further, you must bear this mark."
Before Michi could question, Makoa dipped his fingers in the red liquid and spread it carefully across Michi's forehead. The instant it touched skin, Michi gasped.
A burning sensation crawled under his flesh. Then—like a lock clicking open—he felt another piece entering him. A fragment of the door. The weight pressed into his veins, fusing with his body. His vision blurred for a second before stabilizing.
He exhaled sharply. "…Another piece."
Melancholy's voice rumbled. "Indeed. With each piece, the door nears completion."
The king's eyes darkened, his tone heavier than before. "Let me tell you something serious. Eric. Julia. Keep this secret, or it will harm you both."
The two journalists exchanged nervous looks but nodded quickly. "We understand," Eric said. Julia added, "We'll keep it quiet."
Melancholy leaned forward, his words deliberate. "The reverents… they will return when the door opens. And the door will open when all pieces are gathered, Michi. Beyond it lies the Garden—where Fengxi resides. I do not know which reverents still live, which have retired, which are hidden. I am no longer one. Neither is Theodore. We were enemies once… now we are relics."
A grim chuckle escaped his lips. "But one reverent—the servant of Fengxi—remains missing. For countless ages, no word, no trace. And by rule, I cannot say his name. Reverents are bound."
The air grew heavier, all listening in silence.
"But I suspect he is linked to the Auran Covenant. Their endless deaths, their repeated failures, their queen's foolish schemes… it feels like a performance, doesn't it? A pre-planned script. Someone pulling their strings. And I do not think their Queen Lirael has the wit to do it."
Melancholy's eyes locked on Michi. "So take care. The missing reverent may still move in shadows, and his ties may reach further than you imagine."
The silence broke as Michi clenched his fists. His forehead still throbbed from the red liquid. "…Every step takes me deeper into things I don't fully understand. But… I'll face them. I'll face anything. Because if I run, despair wins. And I can't let that happen."
Julia smirked. "You really know how to make a speech."
Junia broke into a mischievous grin, pointing at Michi's head. "Honestly, though—your forehead looks so weird with that goo on it."
Tiana leaned closer, giggling. "She's right. It's like someone painted you wrong."
Michi groaned. "Seriously?"
Tieu stepped forward, dabbing his forehead gently with a cloth. "Hold still." Julia joined in, laughing softly as she helped. "There, now our little warrior looks presentable again."
The hall echoed with more laughter, chatter, and clinking cups.
At one end, Lior and Kael found themselves in deep talk with Darling Tragedy, his silver eyes glinting with subtle mischief. Lady Despair raised a glass with Eric, the two oddly matched but surprisingly cordial. Dr. Death described his latest necrotic creation to a fascinated Vixor, while Nutcracker cracked a bone in her gauntlet absentmindedly, grinning as Tiana's snakes eyed her warily.
The feast stretched long into the night, voices rising like a song across Mélovetsia. For the first time, despair's halls felt less like shadows and more like a sanctuary.
Morning came swift and clear.
Outside the palace gates, Michi, Lior, Kael, Junia, Tieu, and Tiana gathered with their belongings. Eric and Julia stood close behind them, ready to depart as well.
Makoa clasped Michi's hand firmly. "Walk safely, my friend. This is not an end but another step."
Vixor bowed, still shy as Junia ruffled his hair one last time, teasing, "Stay cute, little apprentice." Vixor blushed furiously.
The Four Horsemen bowed in unison, their expressions solemn, their respect earned. Melancholy raised his hand from his throne one last time. "Go. What lies ahead is yours to choose."
And so, with hearts heavier yet stronger, they turned and left the land of despair. Mélovetsia's shadowy towers faded behind them, swallowed by mist.
Later that day, deep in the throne room, Makoa returned. His footsteps echoed on stone as he approached the throne.
"Father," Makoa said quietly, "you didn't tell them everything. Did you?"
Melancholy's gaze lingered on the fading light. "For now, too much truth would only destroy them. And… it is a promise I cannot break."
A third voice drifted from the corner. Smooth. Almost playful.
"Right, Melancholy?"
A hooded figure stepped from the shadows. His presence carried weight like a storm, though his smile was sharp and knowing.
"Roze Apocalypse," Melancholy murmured.
Roze chuckled, lifting his hood just enough for a glint of crimson eyes. "Yes. The promise still holds. They will choose their own destiny. Whether Michi builds peace or carves destruction—it's in his hands now."
The Four Horsemen appeared silently, their presence heavy but united. Lady Despair inclined her head. Darling Tragedy twirled his blade lazily. Dr. Death's hollow eyes glimmered. Nutcracker cracked her gauntlet with a grin.
Together, they spoke without words.
The fate of despair—and perhaps the world itself—rested on Michi's choice.