Aria opened her eyes slowly, realizing she was no longer in Yuzara's domain. Her mind drifted back to Yuzara's words, repeating them softly to herself: I need to find out more about myself… my origin, and my powers.

She clenched her fists lightly as determination washed over her. If I ever dream of creating the world Sin spoke of, then I need to get stronger. But first… I need to apologize to Azreal. We argued over something so trivial.

She pushed herself up from the bed and walked toward the door, ready to leave. But before she could touch the handle, the door swung open on its own, and Nena stepped in.

"Aria," Nena said with relief in her tone. "Good, you're still here. Get dressed."

Aria blinked in confusion. "Dress? What's the occasion?"

Nena smiled warmly as she stepped closer. "I spoke to Azreal about preparing a feast to celebrate your recovery. We're going to honor your good health, my dear."

Aria's lips parted in surprise. "Thank you, Nena… but I need to do something first." She tried to move past her, but Nena quickly blocked the doorway, raising a hand to stop her.

"What's more important than the feast?" Nena said firmly. "Now, go and get dressed. I'll help you."

Aria hesitated. "But—"

"I don't want to hear anything," Nena cut her off, her voice motherly but unyielding. "Come with me." She stepped inside and closed the door, leaving Aria no room to argue.

---

Azreal's Room

Azreal stood in front of the mirror, already dressed in a black and crimson attire. The rich colors fit him perfectly, accentuating the sharp lines of his presence.

Suddenly, Sarah appeared, her voice calm and precise. "My lord, all the arrangements for the feast have been made."

"Did you inform the pillars?" Azreal asked without turning his gaze from the mirror.

"Yes," Sarah replied. "I did.

Azreal gave a small nod of approval. "Good. I'll go downstairs then."

But before he left, Sarah spoke again. "My lord… you still haven't told the Gods about Zarion—about Y'tharion being only a fragment of his soul."

Azreal stopped mid-step, his back facing her. His silence stretched for a moment before he finally answered. "No. I haven't told them. And I don't plan to either. They're the All-Knowing Gods, aren't they? If that's the case, then they should be able to discover it on their own… don't you think, Sarah?"

Sarah lowered her head slightly. "If you put it that way, my lord."

Without another word, Azreal walked out, closing the door behind him.

---

Azreal descended the grand staircase. The hall was already arranged and decorated, the maids moving quickly to perfect every detail. Upon seeing him, they froze, bowed respectfully, then returned to their tasks with even greater diligence.

"Hulk," Azreal called.

The massive figure appeared behind him instantly, bowing his head. "Yes, my lord?"

"Did you hear from the reconnaissance team? Any progress on finding the key?"

Hulk shook his head. "No, my lord. The key still hasn't been found. But they continue to search. I deployed more Hell Guards to aid in the effort. We will find it soon."

Azreal nodded once. "Good."

Before more could be said, the guard at the door raised his voice. "Announcing Lord Veymar and Lord Orvath!"

The two entered—Veymar with a wide smile, Orvath composed and quiet at his side. Both bowed their heads respectfully.

"Good day, Lord Azreal," they greeted in unison.

Veymar quickly raised his head and smirked. "Oh, it seems we're quite early. Look, Orvath, I told you it would be too early to show up."

Orvath frowned lightly. "Lord Veymar, you were the one who insisted we come right now. Did you forget?"

Veymar chuckled. "Did I now? How strange—I have no memory of that. Forget about it. Where's Aria? I don't see her around."

"She's still with Nena," Azreal replied calmly.

"I see." Veymar smiled again. "Well then, we'll make ourselves at home until the feast begins." He turned, grabbing Orvath by the arm. "Come on."

Orvath resisted slightly. "I have something I wish to discuss with Lord Azreal. I'll catch up later—"

"Nonsense," Veymar interrupted, dragging him away. "Leave work for later. Tonight is for relaxing and enjoying ourselves. I'm sure Lord Azreal agrees."

Orvath sighed as Veymar pulled him along. "Let's go check the dishes in the meantime," Veymar added with a grin.

Azreal watched them leave, narrowing his eyes slightly. "Hulk," he said quietly. "Since when did Veymar and Orvath become so close?"

Hulk shook his head. "I don't know, my lord. But if I were to guess, it must have been after the Infernal War."

"That could be true," Azreal muttered.

The announcer's voice rang out again. "Announcing Lord Malphas, Lord Xaltheon, and Lady Selmora!"

The three entered with poise, and right behind them was Dragos.

Veymar immediately noticed. "Huh, Dragos! You're here. But the announcer didn't even call your name. I suppose you've gotten so old he mistook you for an old man."

Dragos clenched his fist, his expression tightening.

"I'll be sure to introduce you properly to him," Veymar added with a playful smirk. "That way he won't forget you next time."

Dragos exhaled calmly. "I don't have time to squabble with you, Veymar." He walked past without looking back.

Xaltheon shook his head as he stepped toward Veymar. "Cut Dragos some slack. The announcer probably didn't see him enter. We all came in together."

Veymar only grinned. "Of course I know that. I was just pulling his leg."

Xaltheon sighed. "You really are something. I can never seem to understand you."

Lady Selmora spoke up next. "I don't see Aria. Where is she?"

"Lord Azreal said she's with Nena," Veymar replied casually. "I'm sure we'll see her soon."

Malphas gave him a sharp look. "Veymar, don't cause trouble with Dragos. This feast is to celebrate Aria's recovery. Don't ruin it."

Veymar raised a brow. "What do you mean by that?" But Malphas had already walked away.

Veymar scoffed, turning to Xaltheon. "Did you hear that? He makes it sound as though I'm the villain here."

"Yes, I heard," Xaltheon replied with mild irritation. "Now come. Let's wait over there until the feast begins."

Veymar followed, still grinning, while Selmora drifted off on her own to pass the time.

Moments later, the announcer's voice rang again. "Announcing Lady Laisa!"

She entered gracefully, wearing a sleek pink gown that shimmered in the light. Holding her dress slightly, she walked toward Azreal. "Good day, Lord Azreal."

"Laisa," Azreal greeted her. "How are you doing?"

She smiled softly. "I'm great, my lord."

Veymar and Xaltheon returned just then. Veymar, unable to hold his tongue, teased her. "Ah, the latecomer has arrived. Welcome, Lady Laisa."

Laisa ignored him, her chin tilting higher.

Then Nena's voice called for everyone's attention. All eyes turned to the grand staircase.

There, walking down with Nena at her side, was Aria. Her crimson gown flowed elegantly with each step, the fabric glistening as though it carried its own light. She moved gracefully, almost ethereal, and for a moment the hall seemed to hold its breath.

Azreal's gaze locked onto her, and he couldn't help but stare.

Veymar whistled loudly. "And here comes the lady of the hour!" He snapped his fingers, and bursts of flame shaped into small fireworks, lighting up the hall in bright sparks. The atmosphere shifted, vibrant and alive.

He leaned close to Laisa and whispered with a sly smile, "Just so you know, she outshines you when it comes to making an entrance."

Laisa gritted her teeth, clutching her gown tightly, but she held her composure. Veymar only smiled wider.

Aria walked toward Azreal, holding her dress delicately. "Good day, Azreal," she said softly.

Azreal didn't respond immediately, caught off guard. Nena nudged him, snapping him from his daze.

"Yes—right," Azreal stammered. "You… you look good in your clothes, Aria."

Nena chuckled quietly at his awkwardness. Aria gave a small smile. "Thanks."

Veymar clapped his hands. "Now that she's here, can we finally start this party? It's been far too long!"

The gathering moved to the long banquet table. Each found their seat, with Aria and Laisa positioned on either side of Azreal.

The maids flowed into the hall, setting the table with dishes of every kind. The feast began in earnest.

Laughter, conversation, and the clinking of glasses filled the room. Food was shared, wine was poured, and the atmosphere carried warmth.

When the last dish was cleared and the final cup emptied, Azreal rose and lifted his glass. His eyes swept across the table. "To Aria's good health," he declared.

Glasses lifted in unison, and the hall echoed with a cheer.

One by one, the celebration faded. The pillars departed, the guests filed out, and soon the grand hall emptied. Maids worked swiftly, clearing dishes, taking down decorations, and restoring the room to silence once more.

---

At Azreal's Room

Aria sat quietly on the bed, her fingers nervously twisting the edge of the sheets, while Azreal pulled on his coat. Her voice came softly, hesitant, almost trembling.

"Azreal…"

Azreal paused and turned slightly toward her. "What's the matter, Aria?"

She lowered her gaze, guilt lacing her words. "I just… I just wanted to say I'm sorry. About what I said regarding Sin's goal. I wasn't thinking about the consequences of my words. I wasn't thinking at all. I'm sorry."

Azreal studied her for a moment, his expression unreadable, then finally he spoke. "You don't need to be. If you've realized your mistake, then that's more than enough for me."

Relief washed over her face. She rose to her feet and suddenly wrapped her arms around him, holding him tightly. Azreal stiffened in surprise at first, then slowly, almost reluctantly, his arms closed around her in return.

Her thoughts whispered silently as her cheek rested against his chest. I agree with you completely, Azreal… but still, I believe in Sin's vision of a peaceful world. I'll follow that dream, but I'll do it in my own way—the right way. That's what truly needs to be done.

---

Somewhere Else

A lone young man wandered through a place shrouded in darkness. His footsteps echoed faintly until he froze, his eyes catching sight of a figure standing in the shadows. The figure didn't move, didn't speak—only stared.

Beside the man stood a woman engulfed in flames, her body burning except for her head which remained intact. Her charred lips moved, her voice faint, broken, and almost lost to the crackling fire.

"H… help me…"

The man's eyes widened. He staggered back, fear clawing at his chest, his breath quickening. But before he could react, the flames devoured her completely, reducing her to ashes before his very eyes.

"No… no, no!" he stammered, panic flooding him as he turned to run.

But in an instant, the shadowy figure appeared right in front of him—so close he could feel its presence suffocating him. A hand lashed out, clamping tightly around his throat. The man's body jerked as he was lifted off the ground, his legs thrashing desperately, feet scraping against the air. He tried to scream, but only choked gasps escaped.

On the wall behind him, his shadow twisted grotesquely as the figure forced something into his mouth. He gagged, coughed violently, his eyes wide with terror, until finally the grip loosened. The man dropped heavily to the ground, clutching his chest, gasping for air.

But then it hit him. A searing pain, sharp and unbearable, spread through his chest like fire racing through dry wood. His body convulsed. He clawed at himself, writhing helplessly on the floor.

The figure stood silently, watching him with cold detachment.

The man screamed again—this time a guttural, agonizing wail—as black veins spiderwebbed across his body. His flesh ignited, flames devouring him from the inside out, until nothing remained but ashes scattered on the cold ground.

The figure gazed down at what was left, his face now visible, expression carved from stone. His voice came low and merciless.

"Another failure."

He turned, walking away. The path behind him was littered with the ashes of countless others who had shared the same fate.

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