In the Supreme Command chamber, Argos stretched his arms, but his body suddenly seized. He winced, clutching his lower back and began to limp painfully across the room.
Odin glanced over, seeing through it instantly.
"Using borrowed power again, Argos?"
Argos let out a bitter laugh.
"Yeah. Copied it from Ares. I'm getting too old for this level of flexibility."
He grumbled as he dragged himself toward the door, his movements heavy and labored, one hand firmly pressed against his waist.
The Infirmary
Shinji was pinned to the bed. The mysterious woman leaned in so close he could feel her breath. Though she didn't seem heavy, an invisible weight made it impossible for him to move. He struggled in vain.
"Do you know who sealed Kronos away?" she whispered into his ear. "It was him."
Fragmented images exploded in Shinji's mind. A battlefield swallowed by fire. Piles of corpses. A gargantuan pillar of light descending from the heavens. He began to panic.
"What... what are you talking about?! I don't understand any of this!"
The woman tilted her head, her smile curving with an unsettling, voyeuristic pleasure.
"I smell the scent of that mage on you... The scent of Lord Nautilus."
The vision of the elderly mage sealing the Demon King—the image of the black smoke surging into Shinji's eyes, nose, and mouth—became suffocatingly vivid. She cupped Shinji's face with both hands, her eyes wide with a distorted, fanatical adoration.
"I have admired him for so very long. I never imagined that today, I would finally..."
Suddenly, the door swung open.
"Stella, my back is killing me."
Argos's voice shattered the stifling atmosphere. Stella froze. She stood up straight and turned to Argos as if nothing had happened.
"Fine, fine. Just give me a second."
Argos glanced at the bed, his eyes landing on the gasping Shinji.
"Oh, it's the reckless brat. Still alive, I see."
Shinji didn't wait for a response. The moment Stella turned her back to fetch medicine, he bolted. He lunged out of bed and sprinted out of the infirmary, his heart hammering.
He ran down the seemingly endless, cold steel corridors. His footsteps echoed like ghosts. Memories overlapped in his head—none of them clear, only a mounting sense of dread.
Then, suddenly—the steel hallway vanished.
In its place was a lush world of greenery and wild grass, a dense forest that seemed to have appeared out of thin air. Shinji pushed through thick ferns and hanging vines. Sunlight filtered down in thin, golden streaks.
At the end of the path, a small, rustic teahouse emerged from the foliage.
Akidou, Alba, Omelet... and Lio.
They were all there, sitting together, laughing and talking as if the blood and death of the previous night had never happened. Shinji stood frozen. Lio looked up, catching his eye, and offered a warm wave.
In the middle of this peaceful forest, Shinji walked toward them... but deep in his chest, the unease refused to fade.
He approached them, half-convinced this was another trick of the mind. Everything was too peaceful, too perfect. He reached up and pinched his cheek hard.
Ouch. Not a dream.
As he reached the table, a small wooden chair was already set out, as if it had been waiting for him since the beginning of time. He hesitated for a second before sitting down.
An elderly woman emerged from the shack. Her back was hunched by time, her clothes so faded and worn it was impossible to tell what color they had once been. She carried a wooden tray, placing a cup in front of Shinji.
The liquid inside was black, murky, with thick sediment settled at the bottom. Shinji's instincts flared. He glanced at Akidou and Alba—they were gulping it down, laughing and joking with no sign of discomfort.
Shinji picked up the cup, hesitating as he brought it to his nose. Suddenly, Omelet fluttered down from behind and slapped him on the shoulder.
"Hey, Shinji!"
Startled, Shinji's head jerked back, and he accidentally swallowed the entire contents of the cup in one gulp. He stood up abruptly, hand over his mouth, as the others stared in confusion. Shinji braced himself for a bitter, toxic taste.
But then—there was no bitterness.
Instead, a strange, gentle sweetness spread down his throat. It was warm, deep, and hauntingly familiar... a taste he hadn't experienced in years.
He froze, his eyes widening.
" Delicious!"
The group burst into laughter at his reaction. But for Shinji, the warmth of the drink brought back a memory of someone who used to care for him.
"This feeling... it's just like... Uncle Vuri..."