After a few more moments of cutting down the remaining Remnants, Michello finally finished his work.
Before allowing Iris to uncover her eyes, he casually kicked the false Charles’s corpse off the bridge, making sure she wouldn’t have to see his face again.
He then turned toward her with his usual cheerful smile.
“Alright, all done. You can look now, my dear Oracle.”
Iris slowly lowered her hands and looked around.
The Remnants were gone, leaving only black blood scattered across the crimson bridge.
She took a deep breath before turning toward Michello.
“We need to find the Valentine brothers and Nikolai. There’s no way even someone like you can clear this horrible place alone.” She bit down on her nail as she considered the problem.
“Of course, there’s also no guarantee you four won’t immediately try to kill each other the moment you’re all in the same place.”
“If my dear Oracle requires me to cooperate with those heathens, then I shall gladly do so,” Michello said pleasantly.
“Though I should mention that Markus did try to kill me about an hour ago. Came rather close, too!”
Iris’s eye twitched.
‘Don’t give me that shit.
You don’t have a single scratch on you.’
“Oh my, you humans are doing remarkably well for yourselves.”
Both Iris and Michello looked up.
A man stood atop one of the nearby crimson towers, watching them with an amused smile.
He appeared to be in his early twenties, dressed in the elaborate clothing of a medieval nobleman.
His hair was short and completely white, matching his unnaturally pale skin, while a pair of crimson eyes studied the two of them with open curiosity.
He stepped off the tower and fell several stories before landing on the bridge without so much as stumbling.
Iris instinctively tightened her grip around her makeshift spear.
Something was wrong.
She didn’t recognize him.
Even after twenty years of fighting through the supernatural world, Iris couldn’t recall ever encountering this man.
Michello seemed equally unfamiliar with him, though his cheerful expression hadn’t changed in the slightest.
And unlike the creatures they’d just finished slaughtering, this man wasn’t a Remnant.
“Good evening,” the stranger said, offering them a polite bow.
“You may call me Alexi.”
His crimson eyes moved between Iris and Michello before settling on the latter.
“I represent a certain party who wishes to see the Future King of the Abyss revived.”
Iris froze.
Alexi smiled.
“All for the purpose of slaying the Devil of Pride.”
He paused.
“Superbia.”
Michello tilted his head.
“Superbia was killed fifty years ago by the head of A.E.G.I.S. I’m afraid you’re rather late in pursuing that particular desire.”
Iris’s expression darkened.
‘I wish that were true.’
She knew Superbia was supposed to have died fifty years ago, yet somehow the bastard had survived and eventually brought the entire world to ruin.
Even now, he was tormenting her through this ridiculous regression, seemingly enjoying every horrible change she made to the past.
‘Did he fake his death?
Has he been hiding in the shadows all this time?’ Iris bit down on her nail as she thought.
‘Another reason to stick with A.E.G.I.S.
If anyone knows what happened back then, it’ll be the only other human who managed to wound that bastard.’
Suddenly, Alexi disappeared.
Iris barely registered the movement before he was standing directly in front of her, gently taking hold of her thumb and pulling it away from her mouth.
Even Michello seemed caught off guard by the man’s speed.
“That’s not a very good habit, my lady,” Alexi said pleasantly.
“You’ll ruin your lovely nails if you keep biting them.”
Michello moved instantly.
From Hell tore through the air, its chainsaw blade aimed directly at Alexi’s chest.
The white-haired man didn’t even bother moving away.
Instead, he casually sliced open one of his fingers, allowing several drops of blood to spill into the air.
The blood immediately gathered into a solid shield, stopping Michello’s attack before it could reach him.
Alexi glanced toward the priest.
“If you’re this young lady’s guardian, I’d recommend teaching her some better habits. It’s rather unsightly to have saliva all over one’s hands.” His crimson eyes shifted toward the chainsaw spear pressing against his shield.
“Though I suppose manners aren’t exactly your specialty either.”
He smiled and stepped several feet backward, releasing Iris’s hand as his blood returned to him.
Iris stared at the small cut on his finger.
Her eyes narrowed.
‘He used his own blood?’
In a Devil’s Footprint, allowing Miasma to enter an open wound was practically a death sentence for an ordinary human.
Even experienced Cursebearers had to be careful, especially with how heavily saturated the Black Ocean was.
Yet Alexi seemed completely unconcerned, almost as though the danger didn’t apply to him at all.
“How the hell are you not suffering from Miasma poisoning?” Iris muttered, glaring suspiciously at the stranger.
Alexi ignored the question, instead turning his attention toward Michello.
“I’m quite aware of Alexander Jones and his accomplishments. I used to consider him a friend, after all. Though we’ve drifted apart since then, and I no longer work with the likes of A.E.G.I.S.” He smiled pleasantly before continuing.
“Now, unlike the Remnants who wish to see every human within this place massacred, I have no such desire. If anything, I believe the two of you, having been granted the qualifications of Miracles, should join hands with the Future King.”
Iris’s expression changed.
“The King, much like yourselves, is one of the Nine.”
‘There it is again.’
‘Miracles.’
Michello had called her one repeatedly, and now this stranger was claiming that the King of the Black Ocean belonged to the same group.
Iris had never properly learned about the Nine Miracles in her previous life, yet somehow they kept appearing wherever she went.
“What’s his name?” Iris demanded, taking a step forward.
Alexi sighed.
“Such an impatient young lady.”
He casually sliced open his finger again.
Blood shot forward at an incredible speed.
Michello barely had time to react.
He shoved Iris out of the way just as the blood pierced straight through his thigh, tearing through flesh before striking the crimson stone behind him.
“Gah—!”
Michello dropped to one knee, gripping his injured leg as blood began staining the ground beneath him.
Iris’s eyes widened.
‘What the hell was that speed?!’
“Rude little human,” Alexi muttered, looking genuinely disappointed.
“It seems our negotiations have failed. What a shame. I had hoped to recruit both of you to my master’s side, but perhaps I was being far too ambitious.”
He raised one hand.
His palm slowly turned crimson.
“Only one of you Miracles can survive in the end, after all.”
“Damn it, Michello!” Iris rushed toward him and grabbed his arm, trying to help him stand.
“We need to get out of here!”
Michello slowly forced himself upright, tightening his grip around From Hell as he looked toward the approaching man.
Despite the injury, that familiar smile remained on his face.
“Run along, my dear Oracle.”
Iris froze.
“I’ll keep him occupied. Please, find somewhere safe.”
She stared at him.
Michello was bleeding badly.
Even he had barely managed to react to Alexi’s attack, and Iris had no idea how powerful the stranger truly was.
There was every possibility that leaving Michello behind meant she would never see him alive again.
Which was exactly what she’d wanted.
Wasn’t it?
‘Why am I crying?’
Iris took a step backward.
‘I hate you.’
Another step.
‘You’re an awful person.
Cruel, vile, completely insane.
I’ve spent twenty years wanting you dead.’
Her vision began to blur.
‘I planned your death hours ago.’
Michello glanced back toward her, still wearing that same warm smile.
‘So why the hell am I crying for you now?’
Iris wiped her eyes, furious with herself.
She remembered the Church, the people he’d killed, and everything she’d lost because of him.
None of that had changed.
A few kind words and a warm pair of robes couldn’t possibly erase twenty years of hatred.
‘So why couldn’t she bring herself to leave?’
Alexi continued approaching.
And Michello stepped forward to meet him.
“Don’t die for me, you idiot!” Iris screamed.
A burning sensation spread across her right palm.
Alexi sighed, looking toward her with an expression of mild annoyance.
“Such a loud little human. Very well, you can die first.”
He raised one finger.
Blood began gathering at its tip, condensing into a single crimson point.
Michello moved before Iris could even react.
With what little strength he had left, he threw himself toward her and shoved her to the ground.
The blood shot forward, piercing straight through Michello’s chest.
His heart.
Iris’s eyes widened as Michello staggered backward, blood pouring from the wound.
For the first time since she’d met him again, his cheerful smile seemed to weaken.
He looked down at his chest, almost curious, before slowly turning toward her.
“Well… it seems I’ll be meeting the Goddess soon,” Michello chuckled weakly.
He placed a hand against his chest, blood spilling between his fingers as he looked toward Iris with that same unbearable warmth in his eye.
“But here, Iris. You can have a piece of my heart before I go. No need to give anything in return.”
Iris stared at him.
“You…”
Her hands began shaking.
“You stupid idiot!”
Tears poured down her face as she scrambled toward him.
“I don’t want your heart! I want your life! I want you to live!” Iris grabbed his arm, desperately trying to keep him standing.
“Damn it… why do I want you to live so badly?!”
Michello smiled.
“Once again…”
His legs began to give out.
“You read far too deeply into my words… and far too little into their meaning.”
He chuckled one last time.
“Stupid Oracle.”
Michello collapsed into Iris’s arms.
“Michello?”
“Hey…”
There was no response.
“Michello!”
Iris screamed, holding him tightly as blood spread across her hands and dripped from the robes he’d wrapped around her.
His body grew heavier in her arms, and no matter how tightly she held him, she couldn’t make him open his eyes again.
The burning sensation in her right palm continued to grow, but she barely noticed it.
All she could think about was the man lying motionless against her.
The man she’d spent twenty years wanting to kill.
The man who had protected her until his final breath.
‘You weren’t supposed to die like this.’
She held him tighter.
‘Not for me.’
Alexi watched the scene with a faint smile.
“He died beautifully,” he said calmly.
“I suppose I’ll allow you to join him. Perhaps his ideal afterlife truly exists. Wouldn’t that be wonderful?”
Iris slowly looked up.
Her golden eyes were filled with hatred.
Alexi raised his glowing red hand toward her face.
“I do hope you get to meet your Goddess, little Miracle.”
One final tear fell from Iris’s cheek and landed on Michello’s corpse.
Then her head was destroyed.
The blast of blood struck with such overwhelming force that she died instantly, without even enough time to register the pain.
The world went black.
Then—
Iris opened her eyes.
A streetlight flickered above her.
She was standing on a crimson bridge, surrounded by the endless darkness of the Black Ocean.
Black water flowed through the streets far below, while the Blood Moon remained suspended in the sky.
Iris didn’t move.
She stared at the empty space in front of her, her hands slowly rising toward her face.
There was no blood on them.
No Michello lying against her.
No wound through his chest.
Everything had returned to the moment she first entered the Black Ocean.
But she remembered.
She remembered every word.
Every smile.
The warmth of his hand.
The weight of his body as he collapsed into her arms.
Iris screamed.
Her voice echoed across the crimson bridge as tears poured down her face.
She didn’t care about the monsters, the darkness, or the fact that she had returned to the beginning again.
All she could see was Michello collapsing into her arms, his blood covering her hands as he smiled at her one last time.
A burning sensation spread across her right hand.
The butterfly tattoo Superbia had given her began to glow, slowly twisting and changing shape.
Its wings folded inward as the markings spread across her skin, forming something Iris recognized all too well.
A magic circle.
Her Sigil.
Black flames erupted from her hand.
Iris barely noticed.
She continued crying as the flames spread across the bridge, twisting into an enormous tornado of dark fire that swallowed everything around her.
The false Sarah emerged from the darkness, still wearing her mother’s warm smile, only to be consumed by the flames before it could utter a single word.
The crimson stone beneath Iris’s feet began to crack from the heat, yet she remained completely unharmed.
Her Curse had awakened.
The Curse of the Ashen Witch.
Three days earlier than it was supposed to.
But Iris didn’t smile.
She didn’t celebrate.
She didn’t even acknowledge the power she’d spent the last few hours desperately wishing she had.
All she could do was cry.
Cry for a man she had hated for twenty years.
A man she had sworn to kill herself.
A man who had given his life to protect her.
The worst part was that she still hated him.
She hated what he’d done.
She hated the Church he served, the blood he’d spilled, and every horrible memory his name brought back.
None of those things had disappeared just because he’d saved her.
But now she had another memory.
One she hadn’t asked for.
One she didn’t know what to do with.
Michello smiling at her as he died.
And even though she had returned to the beginning once more, Iris couldn’t stop hearing his final words.
You can have a piece of my heart before I go.
“…You stupid idiot.”
The black flames continued to burn.
“I didn’t want your heart.”
Her voice cracked.
“Why did his hands have to be so warm?”