Nero and Celis found a bench.

Not by accident or convenience, but because Nero's feet just carried them there while his brain processed approximately forty different concerns about timeline countdowns and cult conspiracies and the weird weight in Celis's expression that made his chest feel uncomfortably tight.

The bench overlooked Legendor's western gardens where evening flowers released scents that probably violated several atmospheric regulations through sheer concentrated sweetness.

Magic-infused blooms glowing faintly in the dimming light, creating ambient illumination that felt more intimate than practical.

Celis sat with hands folded in her lap.

Proper. Composed.

Like a student preparing to confess sins to a particularly understanding teacher, except the student was centuries old and the sins were probably complicated enough to require their own theological council.

"There was someone."

Her voice emerged barely above a whisper, archaic speech pattern somehow making the admission feel ancient and profound rather than awkward.

"A companion most dear to mine heart, who bore thy visage similar to Savior."

"..."

Nero's breath caught.

Not dramatically. Just a small hitch that suggested several puzzle pieces had suddenly clicked into uncomfortable clarity.

The way she'd looked at him during their first meeting.

That melancholy bleeding through her serene composure at random moments.

How she'd offered to be his woman with such immediate certainty despite barely knowing him.

All of it suddenly made horrifying sense.

Her expression carried the weight of centuries compressed into a single moment of vulnerability… her half-lidded eyes reflecting internal visions that seemed to exist somewhere beyond present reality, and Nero remained absolutely still.

Instinct screaming that interruption would shatter whatever fragile courage she'd gathered to actually speak about this.

"... Where is he now?"

The question emerged as gently as he could manage, though his throat felt weirdly tight.

"..."

… But Celis's slight headshake answered before words could.

"... I see."

Nero reached over without thinking, covering her folded hands with his own in a gesture of pure comfort rather than anything romantic.

Just... contact.

Human warmth against isolation that probably stretched back further than his entire lifespan.

The simple touch made her breath hitch slightly, like she'd forgotten what genuine comfort felt like and her body was remembering against her will.

"... Sorry," he murmured, meaning it completely. "Take your time… I'm not going anywhere."

"..."

A moment of silence, before a faint nod was given to him as a reply back.

***

Celis spoke in fragments.

Pieces of memory surfacing with unexpected clarity, triggered by Nero's presence and patience and the fact that he wasn't demanding explanations or getting weird about the resemblance.

Just... listening.

"He was kind, as thou art kind."

Her smile turned bittersweet, fingers unconsciously gripping Nero's hand tighter.

"Though his kindness manifested differently. More reckless. More willing to sacrifice for others even when wisdom counseled restraint."

She paused, searching for words that could translate centuries-old emotions into comprehensible language.

"We traveled together during times of great darkness, when the world balanced on edge of catastrophe, and his presence made burdens feel lighter simply through existing beside me."

The way she said it suggested companionship that transcended simple friendship.

Something deeper. More fundamental.

The kind of bond that shaped who you became long after the other person was gone.

Nero remained quiet, thumb unconsciously tracing small circles against her hand while his brain tried processing the emotional weight behind her carefully controlled words.

She didn't elaborate on specifics.

Leaving gaps that suggested either inability or unwillingness to share complete truth, but the emotion bleeding through painted a clear enough picture.

Loss that had carved itself into her very being.

"What happened?"

The prompt came softly when silence stretched too long, and Celis's expression transformed into something approaching ancient pain.

The kind that even centuries couldn't fully heal because some wounds were too deep for time alone to fix.

"He made a choice."

Her voice cracked slightly despite obvious attempts at composure.

"... As heroes often must, between his own survival and a world that needed saving."

She faintly said as she "gazed" towards the sky.

"And I... I was not able to prevent the outcome that honor demanded of him."

"..."

The confession landed like a physical blow, and Nero found himself squeezing her hands without conscious decision.

Offering what comfort he could to pain that predated his existence by margins he couldn't properly calculate.

"... You know, that wasn't your fault, right?" He slowly continued, "... Sometimes people make choices we can't stop, even when we'd give anything to change the outcome."

Celis's half-closed eyes opened slightly wider, turning toward him with such sudden focus it felt like she was seeing straight through to his soul.

"Thou... dost not think me weak? For failing to save one I cared for?"

"Weak?"

Nero almost laughed, except the question was too genuine.

"You're one of the most miraculous person I've ever met. Not only because you could heal and even revive… but because you're still here."

"... Still here?"

The woman was obviously confused, tilting her head.

"Still helping others…. Still choosing kindness despite carrying that kind of loss."

He met her gaze steadily.

"That's not 'weakness' in my opinion. It's the opposite."

"..."

For a moment another silence met his words, before the mysterious Saintess' gaze fell to the sky once more, with the following words barely escaping her faint smile,

"... Thank you, Hero."

***

Evening deepened into proper night.

Legendor's magical streetlights flickered to life in cascading waves that transformed the city into a constellation of artificial stars, each lamp igniting with soft pops that created rhythm across the urban landscape.

They sat together in comfortable silence that felt heavier than usual but not uncomfortable.

Just... weighted with shared vulnerability.

Nero found himself thinking about all the subtle ways Celis had supported them without ever asking for acknowledgment.

Her gentle guidance when he'd been completely overwhelmed by his new reality.

Patience teaching him about the merged world's insane complexities.

That serene presence that somehow made chaos feel manageable, like having a calm eye in the center of their perpetual storm.

"Thank you for trusting me with this."

The words emerged quieter than intended, but carrying absolute sincerity.

Celis's breath caught slightly, her expression shifting into something that looked almost hopeful beneath the melancholy.

"Thou art welcome, Savior."

Her smile looked less fragile now, like sharing even fragments of her burden had provided relief she hadn't known she needed.

"And... Thank you for listening to my request without judgment or uncomfortable questions. It must have been hard on you."

"Tis fine."

She faintly replied.

Nero squeezed her hands gently before releasing them, the gesture feeling like acceptance of both her past and present without demanding more than she could give.

They remained on that bench longer than necessary.

Just existing in each other's presence while the city's nightlife buzzed around them with blissful ignorance of the emotional weight being processed on a random garden bench.

When they finally rose to return to Waifuria, something fundamental had shifted.

Deepening from friendly respect into genuine emotional connection built on mutual vulnerability and trust that couldn't be faked or manufactured.

Celis's hand found his naturally as they walked, and Nero didn't pull away.

***

Perspective shattered.

Reality twisted.

Volcanic hellscape replaced peaceful gardens with violence that suggested the universe had anger management issues.

*CRACK! BOOM!*

Jagged obsidian formations jutted from scorched earth like teeth belonging to some slumbering titan, sharp enough to cut dimensional fabric if anyone was stupid enough to test it.

The air tasted of sulfur and concentrated malevolence, temperature fluctuating wildly between "uncomfortably hot" and "actually melting reinforced armor."

This is Nefarynth… the territories of the demon on the newly Reformed Earth.

And through this nightmarish terrain marched armies that made mortal military forces look like children playing with toy soldiers.

*Thump. Thump. Thump.*

Coordinated footsteps of thousands shook the volcanic plains with rhythmic precision, divine energy radiating from assembled forces in waves that temporarily stabilized corrupted reality through sheer concentrated willpower.

Thor stood at the vanguard.

Mjolnir crackled with barely-restrained lightning that painted shadows across his battle-scarred features, making him look less like the jovial figure from mythology and more like concentrated apocalyptic violence wearing a god's face.

His expression promised death delivered with extreme prejudice to anyone stupid enough to stand in his path.

Beside him, Athena's tactical projection materialized in glowing light.

Fortress layouts. Troop movements. Seventeen different approach vectors calculated with precision that came from divine-level reconnaissance and millennia of strategic experience.

Her armor gleamed with defensive enchantments that made space ripple uncomfortably, like reality was trying to find comfortable distance from concentrated tactical genius.

Gathered around them stood legends whose names had echoed through human mythology for longer than most civilizations had existed.

"The Seer confirmed it."

Thor's voice rumbled across assembled forces with power that made the volcanic landscape tremble sympathetically.

His usual jovial demeanor completely absent, replaced by grim determination that suggested someone was about to have a very bad day.

"The Obsidian Covenant's leadership operates from within these territories. Colluding with demon kings who think alliances with mortal cultists represent acceptable strategy."

Athena's grey eyes reflected calculation happening faster than conscious thought, already running probability matrices for seventeen different battle scenarios simultaneously.

"More concerning is the secondary objective."

Her voice carried weight that made even veteran gods straighten with sudden attention.

"The Antagonist's presence has been detected in this region."

*...*

Silence crashed down like physical pressure.

Because facing coordinated demon armies was manageable.

Difficult, dangerous, but ultimately within acceptable parameters for divine military operations.

But confronting the prophesied harbinger of apocalyptic darkness?

That elevated this from standard military campaign to potentially civilization-defining conflict.

The kind that got remembered in historical records assuming anyone survived to write them.

*!!!*

The assembled armies spread across volcanic plains in formations representing millennia of warfare experience.

Divine energy radiating from their combined presence in waves that made corrupted reality feel temporarily more stable, like the universe was reconsidering its life choices under concentrated mythological scrutiny.

Athena's final strategic briefing concluded with characteristic precision.

Backup plans.

Contingency protocols.

Emergency extraction procedures distributed among squad leaders who'd commanded legions through countless historic battles and knew exactly how badly things could go wrong.

Thor raised Mjolnir high.

The gesture served as both rallying symbol and declaration of imminent violence, lightning arcing between sky and hammer in patterns that suggested atmospheric conditions were about to become extremely unfriendly.

"FOR THE REALMS!"

His battle cry resonated across assembled forces with power that made the volcanic landscape crack.

"FOR CIVILIZATION! DEATH TO THOSE WHO WOULD ENSLAVE MORTAL AND DIVINE ALIKE!"

*ROOOOOAR!*

Thousands of voices answered in unified roar that shook dimensional barriers, suggesting this would be remembered as either glorious victory or catastrophic defeat with absolutely no middle ground possible.

Then—

*CRACK!*

The Nefarynth's largest fortress gate split open.

With its sound like continents grinding together, corrupted energy bled out in visible waves that made the air taste of sulfur and concentrated despair.

The darkness beyond that threshold felt alive.

Hungry.

And emerging from it came a figure whose mere presence made even legendary warriors grip their weapons with sudden wariness.

Tall. Impossibly so.

Horns that curved like architectural nightmares.

Eyes burning with malevolence that suggested he viewed this assembled divine host as entertainment rather than genuine threat.

A Demon King.

One of Nefarynth's ruling powers whose individual strength could devastate armies through casual violence.

He stepped forward with arrogance that made reality flinch, and his smile promised carnage that would test whether mythology could truly triumph over concentrated demonic malevolence.

"Well, well."

His voice carried across the volcanic plains like poisoned honey.

"The gods finally decided to visit. How... delightful."

Lightning crackled.

Divine energy surged.

The moment before the massive battle stretched like a rubber band about to snap.

*BANG!*

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