The starlit courtroom—my domain—was aglow with hundreds of crystal chandeliers. Polished marble swirled with nebulae patterns underfoot, each step echoing cosmic grandeur. But that celestial serenity was under siege. My battle with the black stag raged on, two wills clashing in a duel of stamina, warcraft, and sheer mettle.

Winter ended here.

My courtroom, a frozen forest, my courtroom, a frozen forest—over and over, ad nauseam. The transitions were as dizzying as they were deliberate, each shift a test of resilience.

A sudden chord from a grand piano rang through the arena. Its note cracked like ice, a signal for the duel's decisive phase.

The stag charged. Its antlers sprouted hundreds of icy blades, each one a dagger in flight. The spectacle was terrifying—but I was ready. A grin spread across my face.

A gathering of knives? I just danced.

My feet glided across marble and ice with practiced precision, each step generating my elemental defense. I swirled, and confetti rained down in a brilliant avalanche, a snowy shield that shattered every crystalline shard.

I felt invincible. Power coursed through me.

With a flick of my right hand, I commanded the paper to transform. What preys on stags? Wolves. I conjured a pack of origami wolves—feral, respectful of their role. The paper creatures lunged, tearing at the beast of winter. Yet, the stag simply shrugged them off. Paper couldn't bind spirit.

That didn't matter. I knew what I could do now.

"Persona. Celeste."

My voice echoed. As I spoke, the influence of [Stage of the Starborn] pulsed through me.

***

"So. The way your [Stage of the Starborn] works is very obvious," Gin's voice floated in, cool disdain undercut by awe. He leaned against a swirling rift, bells around his neck jangling in a casual rhythm. "Mimic someone you intimately understand. You don't have that… yet. But once you do, you absorb their abilities—temporarily and at a higher mana cost, yes. You can't use your own cubes or Arte while you're mimicking, but you access theirs, up to your Soul Realm level."

He sighed theatrically. "If it wasn't a Star-cube, I'd have forced you to devour this instantly. Still, you gain access to a new Arte per persona, and their skillcubes—bound by your Soul Realm."

His laughter trailed off teasingly. "Good luck trying that with me~!"

***

I now wore a mask that wasn't mine but Celeste's. It felt right—familiar yet new. Through it, I sensed thousands of knives, needles, and toxins formed from pure, liquid starlight radiating off me.

So this is how she kills.

Knowledge flooded me—not from a lesson, but instinct. Long ago, Celeste had woven these deadly arts. Now, through this persona, I understood her silent death.

I was generating arsenic by the liter, cooling it into crystalline shards. My heart beat in harmony with the cosmic design.

Rapiers of starlight materialized at my fingertips—thin, elegant, dripping with lethal intent. My mask stung with borrowed purpose, but I embraced it.

I advanced on the stag. Its legs were pillars of ice, one antler fractured, snow swirling around its hooves like restless spirits. The courtroom beneath us lay fractured between marble and frost, the frozen forest bleeding in and out with labored breaths.

I steadied myself. Every dance step had led here. The rapier in my hand—a blade of incandescence—felt as much a partner as a weapon.

"Persona: Celeste," I whispered, breath visible in the cold court. My mask shifted, starlight dancing behind its ornate filigree. I drew two slender needles of arsenic-crystal from my sleeve—liquid starlight hardened into lethal art—and loaded them onto the rapier's grooves like twin beacons of silent death.

The stag lowered its broken antlers, every movement exuding ancient rage. Our eyes met, and in its frozen gaze was challenge, inevitability, winter incarnate.

My feet found rhythm again, steps carving constellations on marble and ice. The stag charged—antlers weaving death across the floor. I sidestepped, leaving lines of frosted footprints as my paper wolves leapt into action, distracting, circling, biting at its ankles. The beast paused, ears flicking, snow veiling around it like curtains before a performance.

I seized the moment. Lifting the rapier, I pierced my first needle into its flank, hidden in the folds of fur. The stag howled—an echo of cracked glaciers. Steam erupted from two wounds, flesh sizzling with cosmic fire burning out.

It spun, eyes bleeding rage, and gored me in the shoulder. A crack of bone, a slash of ice, pain feral and immediate. I grunted, my grip slipping—but not enough.

Blood and mana mixed as I staggered, slashing a second time with renewed purpose. My venomed breath filled the stag's lungs as it inhaled deeply upon impact. Its hide shimmered, frost melting into steam. It staggered, antlers catching crystal beams.

We crashed into the court's marble wall with a thunderous impact. Ice sheets cracked. Crystal chandeliers jingled. My shoulder screamed, a white-hot agony that overrode every logical thought. The stag reared, muscles straining, and charged again—this time horns lowered for the kill.

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I inhaled. Pain cut through me, but so did focus. Swirling arsenic vapor from my lungs began to collect around its lowered head—my presence, my microbiome, a weapon I didn't choose but had embraced.

Pain refused to eradicate purpose.

It slammed into me. I slid across marble floor as the beast crashed with bone-shattering force. My side ached where my ribs met its flank in collision. A grunt, a breath bloody and defiant.

For a heartbeat, time froze—stag's breath steaming in a vast orb of breath, my mask cracked with internal echoes. Then instinct seized control.

I rose, blade dripping venom by my palm. My steps found path across shattered ice. I lunged again. This time, the rapier's twin needles shattered the stag's final form—not flesh, not ice—but spirit. I slammed through its chest.

The chik of impact echoed like shards of night. Vapor burst skyward, carrying petals of stained starlight. The stag staggered—heavy, majestic, ancient—and teetered on ice.

I planted my foot. Summoned all my will and weakness. I drove the blade farther.

—I pulled the second needle free.

Then, with one final tremble, it collapsed: ice shattering, frost evaporating, nebula marble reclaiming dark lines.

Silence.

I stood, chest heaving, shoulder throbbing, rapier black with spent venom. Snowflakes drifted amidst confetti and crystal shards—my wolves frozen in final howls, origami warriors stilled in victory's stillness. The courtroom and forest had merged into nothing but starlit calm.

I staggered forward until I knelt beside the stag's collapsed form. My fingers trembled—reaching for frozen fur, warm at broken places.

"I release you," I murmured. "Winter yields."

Above us, chandeliers dimmed to quiet hum. The courtroom softened. The forest faded into dreaming snow. I rose carefully, feeling the warm thaw of victory, cost-laden and beautiful.

My rapier slipped back to starlight and veil once more—Persona severed, mask dormant.

I faced the empty hall, chest heaving. Each inhale laced with pain and triumph.

"I am not winter." I whispered. "I'm its end."

Above the great hall—beneath ghostly vaulted ceiling—I sensed a pulse: the shift of seasons, the stir of Library's frozen heartbeat thawing.

I didn't know how long fell between breaths. But as the first low chord of warmth whispered through crystal, I knew only this mattered:

Winter ends here — by my blade, by cosmic mercy, by heart stronger than fear.

I sheathed the rapier. I turned. My journey continued for a few brief moments. Before dizziness and the darkness claimed me.

***

I had awoken in a room.

A warm room.

The ceiling was no longer covered in frost. The chandeliers above me now glowed softly with the amber warmth of hearthlight rather than the cruel shimmer of cold stars. Velvet drapes had replaced the drifting frost. Somewhere nearby, a fire crackled—a gentle hum of peace.

And she was there.

Fallias sat beside me, a small, lopsided smile tugging at her lips. Her eyes—those breathtaking opals of impossible hue—watched me like I was some kind of relic, fragile and ancient. Her red hair, no longer wind-tossed by the blizzard, lay braided over one shoulder. She looked different in the warmth. Softer. Stronger. Beautiful in a way that didn't rely on danger to sharpen its edge.

"You reckless, idiotic fool," she said, with a voice both fond and exasperated.

I groaned softly and let my head roll against the pillow, blinking away the last fading starlight in my vision.

"Do you know what you did?"

"Killed the black stag of eternal winter and cold?" I offered, voice dry, even a little smug.

She sighed, exasperated. "Well. Yes. You did. How?"

"I pumped it full of about four hundred liters of arsenic. I then suffered catastrophic mana loss and, uh, the moment I canceled my skillcube, I passed out."

Fallias blinked. She mouthed the number like it personally offended her. "Four. Hundred. Liters?"

I gave her a tired thumbs up.

She shook her head slowly. "Okay, so that's… impressive. The question is: what are you going to do now?"

I exhaled, staring at the ceiling again. For a moment, I let the silence stretch.

"If I can," I said, "go back home."

She didn't react right away. Her face held still, like she was waiting to see if I'd say more.

"I'm not going to be a permanent resident of Danatallion's," I added. "Frankly, I have enough problems already. Too many titles. Too many duties. Too many enemies I don't remember making. I'd rather deal with all that than live in a myth where everything sings."

I turned my gaze to her fully.

"Are you willing to come with me?"

Her eyes didn't waver. She smiled again—smaller, gentler this time.

"I am," she said. "Yes. But no."

My heart hiccuped. Then she leaned forward and placed her hand over mine.

"I realized from your actions," she continued, "that I have a place here. I had doubts. Sure. But after witnessing you—what you did, how you fought—I knew something. That conviction? That drive? That refusal to let stories die? I knew I had a duty here. And duty…" Her voice faltered just slightly. "Duty is a responsibility. I owe it to her as well."

I didn't have to ask who "her" was.

I just nodded.

"Any way for us to stay in contact?"

She chuckled. "Oh, that's easy. I never said I wasn't going to visit."

I blinked. "Wait—what?"

"I negotiated with Danatallion," she said proudly. "I only have to archive stories and map the halls once a week."

My jaw may have actually dropped.

She burst out laughing, the sound like bells and fire and glittering glass. "You should've seen your face! You didn't really think I wasn't going to go with you after all that, did you?"

I felt my ears heat. "Well, I mean, it was a strong maybe—"

She reached out and poked my forehead.

"I'm not ready to marry you," she said, "but you literally slayed a god's avatar. Or at least, one half of it. There's nothing sexier."

I stared at her.

She raised an eyebrow.

I blinked.

She grinned.

"Take us home, Alex," she said.

I took her hand in mine, felt the warmth, the weight, the presence of it—and then reached deep into the Library of Last Night. I called upon the authority of the Custodian. I reached not with power, but with purpose.

With hope.

And together—we stepped forward.

I'm no hero. I don't need to be.

I just need to be me.

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