A/N: Do read Chapter Eighteen before reading this chapter. Thank you~

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The Izumo Gensei and the Takama Divine Realm—twin planets bound by a shared, tragic fate, where a silent song permeates the Cave Where Light Hid. This song, an enigma, has no beginning, no end, no sound, and no echo; it emerges from no singer and reaches no ears. Yet, it speaks of:

Takamagahara, endless as Izumo, once a paradise perfect and untouched.

Darkness then cloaked the skies; the great sun's gravity stirred the tides, prompting the Kami to leave trails as if in migration.

The Yaoyorozu no Magakami unleashed merciless slaughter, little anticipating that their unmatched authority would be usurped.

In response, Izumo shattered seventy thousand and thirty-three warriors' blades to forge twelve majestic Sentinels:

Truth: Born from the slain Sovereign of Revelation, granting mortals the power to understand all laws, dissect realities, and recreate miracles.

Sky: Crafted from the slain Eternal Zenith, transforming the sky into impenetrable barriers, thwarting the steps of Magatsu no Morokami.

Howl: Derived from the slain Almighty Thunder, capable of tearing the heavens with lightning and meteors to deliver divine justice.

Mist: From the slain Everbreath, summoning endless raging gales that shear landscapes.

Frost: Forged with the slain Heaven's Winter Cloak, freezing time itself, extending moments into eternities.

Fate: From the slain Spurned Sister of Mortality, blossoming life on barren graves, intertwining life and death.

Flare: Created from the slain Flamebringer, able to incinerate worlds, scorching skies and charring earth.

Thought: From the slain Wisdom Supreme, discerning past and future through the reflective truths of water.

Root: Born from the slain Father of Lands, commanding the geography to reshape itself dramatically.

Form: Forged with the slain Nether Lord, unifying disparate entities into a singular force.

Bind: From the slain Omen Ward, caging misfortune and vanquishing demons instantly.

Maw: Crafted from the slain Woes Eighty, aging the mortal world, equalizing Kami and Oni by sundering their souls.

Following great turmoil, the underworld quieted, the wars ceased, and the twelve blades were broken and sealed.

Amidst the void left behind, restless souls stirred under a black sun. Two new blades were then forged, named "Origin" and "End"—signifying the commencement with humanity and the conclusion with Oni-kind.

The lamentations halted, dead flowers bloomed and wilted in cycles, and those defeated retreated into oblivion, while the victors faded into nothingness.

A hobbling monk, absent of melody, sang this song for those graced with the power of Kami, who walk backward toward their divinity.

Witnessed by the resplendent sun, the land once celebrated as Izumo lay barren, emptied of humans, Oni, and Kami.

Or so it should have unfolded, had not a lone spark of fire landed in the recesses of memory untouched by Nihility.

A spark of hope.

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"Everyone, in tune and time, will irrevocably be in Order."

The voice of The Great Septimus echoed through the vast chamber, resonating with a chilling finality. The Astral Express Crew, appearing defeated, were ensnared in a psychic manipulation, their minds tuned to his ominous frequency.

The woman with Halovian traits, her voice laced with despair, pleaded, "Brother, please! Think of the innocent people!"

Yet, her pleas failed to penetrate the bubble of euphoria that enveloped him; the man in the Harmonic String was lost in a disturbing ecstasy.

Sunday, blinded by his own grandiose visions, was oblivious to the ethical decay corrupting his soul. His goals, incomprehensible and perverse, seemed to him a warped fulfillment of his destiny. Trained by Gopher Wood, his convictions were as unyielding as they were skewed.

His voice, a paradoxically soothing echo, reached his sister, "My sister. Oh, my dear, dearest sister, Robin. THEIR light will soon bask over the dream, transforming reality into an eternal dream."

Strings of Order materialized, weaving around Robin, entwining her in a cocoon of gold and gears. Her voice stifled, the melodies of her pleas faded into silence, unreachable to the rest of the crew.

Welt, his hand trembling as he gripped his cane, looked on with a mix of fear and defiance. In his mind, a silent plea: 'Caelus... whatever you're doing now, please...'

Around him, the crew clung to their last shreds of hope, the sight of their struggle wrenching his heart.

Welt closed his eyes, feeling the pull of Order's dream. Yet, he resisted, his consciousness stubbornly clinging to the present.

Opening his eyes, he fixed Sunday with a glare, his voice resonant with contempt, "You... do you really believe you'll accomplish your goal while wallowing in the pit of insecurity you call a soul!?"

Welt's accusation hung heavy in the air, his cane pointed accusingly at the Emanator of Harmony.

Sunday's response was draped in a smug aura, unseen but palpable. "You call me insecure, yet I have achieved my aims. Shouldn't I be the one to question your hopes of salvation? I am your hope, your salvation. I am the hero here!"

Spreading his arms wide, he declared, "I am a Messiah. I will guard and stand before the Dream that I shall name Eden. And you, Welt, will be my first disciple."

As the tunes of Harmony intensified, the strings of Order wove tighter around him, Welt felt a creeping drowsiness overpower his senses.

With a defiant click of his tongue, Welt's resolve wavered against the insidious pull of Order, yet he clung to a fading hope.

'Einstein, I hope things are working out for you...'

'And Tesla, I miss you.'

As he was drawn into the void, the last sight that met his eyes sparked a flicker of defiance...

The Flames of Repentance

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The pungent smell of blood saturated the air, signaling to Caelus that his predicament was alarmingly real.

'Clockie, wherever you are, I need an escape plan now! A dangerously attractive woman is about to literally tear me apart!' he screamed internally, while the woman's intense gaze scrutinized him with unsettling curiosity.

Her nose twitched, and she leaned closer, her blade lowering as she inhaled deeply mere inches from his neck. Her eyes sparkled with a disconcerting brightness, and her smile widened unnervingly. With a gentleness that contradicted her earlier aggression, she caressed his chin, forcing him to meet her eyes directly.

"You smell delightfully enticing," she murmured, her voice husky and tinged with a menacing sweetness. "Perhaps I should keep you... make you entirely mine, hm~?"

Caelus inhaled sharply, the internal voices that urged him to succumb were almost too persuasive. 'Ye- No! This is bad. She's not just stunning; she's unhinged. Get it together, brain!'

He averted his gaze, which only seemed to provoke her further.

"Look at me when I am speaking to you," she commanded, her tone switching from sultry to furious in an instant.

Caelus shut his eyes tightly, an act that only fueled her ire. She forcefully turned his face back toward hers, her fingers digging painfully into his skin.

Her expression flickered back to joy. "Ah, yes, that's precisely the face I yearn to devour. So fresh, yet so untrained. I wonder how long it will take to mold you."

For the first time since their encounter began, Caelus found his voice, though it trembled, "I... I don't actually know you. You remind me of someone else, though."

Her amusement flickered through her eyes as she hummed thoughtfully, "Is that so? I am unique, as far as I know. Where do you hail from, wanderer? Your scent is unfamiliar and... incomplete."

Caelus swallowed hard, unsure how to respond. Should he concoct a story or be honest?

'I am actually a homeless man who lives in a trashcan and was searching for food.'

'An old man kicked me into oblivion, and I was reincarnated as a handsome man.'

'I am actually looking for a date, and I must say, you look rather stunning, my lady.'

"I'm from a Planet of Festivities, and... I'm not sure how I ended up here," he blurted out, then immediately regretted his words as he realized he had spoken aloud.

'I'm done for.'

To his surprise, she raised an eyebrow, her confusion evident. Yet, after a moment, she responded, "Planet of Festivities... such a place does not diminish my curiosity about you. Your scent carries honesty; thus, I accept your answer as truth."

Caelus was perplexed but relieved. "You believe me?" he ventured cautiously.

She nodded, sheathing her katana and stepping back, examining her blood-stained fingers with a look of fascination, her eyes euphoric.

Caelus touched his chin, feeling a trickle of blood. He hadn't even noticed her grip had broken the skin.

Suddenly, she flicked her fingers, casting the blood to the ground where it spattered the grass. Her face shifted to one of disappointment.

"So this is why vampires are fascinated with blood..."

Caelus watched, unnerved. The mental image of Acheron mimicking such an act was disconcerting.

Then she gazed at him again, her expression shifting to one of intrigue. "Your wounds, they've healed."

Surprised, Caelus felt his chin again, only to find smooth, unmarred skin. No trace of injury remained.

The woman shook her head slightly and tapped the butt of her katana thoughtfully. "Come. I must show you a place to rest. This field is not one of sheltered enjoyment."

Caelus' face sagged with fatigue as he surveyed the expanse of swords stabbing the earth around them. An inexplicable melancholy gripped him, prompting a question he couldn't hold back.

"Why do you trust me?" he asked, his voice carrying a weight of genuine perplexity.

To his surprise, her response came quickly, and with an unexpected candor. "I don't know. I just... do. Follow me," she said simply, turning to lead the way.

He listened to the crunch of her steps on the leaves and twigs, a stark contrast to the silence that the field of swords seemed to command. After a moment of contemplation, shadowed by the immense blades around him, he followed. Her figure stood out against the blue sky, an unwavering beacon in the surreal landscape, drawing him forward.

---

Several hours had passed since their unsettling encounter, and Caelus now found himself in a surprisingly modest house. The interior was spacious and minimally furnished, which struck him as oddly plain for a woman of such vibrant and complex demeanor.

"Do you like it?" she inquired, her posture on the floor exuding a natural elegance that almost contradicted the fierceness of her oni horns.

Despite the oddity of the situation, Caelus felt a certain safety—after all, she had expressed trust in him. He decided to return the sentiment with honesty, albeit struggling to find comfort on the floor. "Yeah...? I mean, it's nice, but I'd prefer a chair. Sitting like this is making my legs hurt."

Her expression shifted slightly, as if weighing his words, then she offered a response that seemed overly thoughtful. "I see. Then consider this seating arrangement part of your training."

Caelus blinked, taken aback. "I'm sorry?"

"Training," she repeated with a nonchalant hum. "I did mention I would make you mine, did I not?"

His eyes widened slightly. "I didn't think you were serious about that..."

Her laughter filled the room, rich and genuine. "Oh, I am entirely serious. From the moment I saw you, I knew what I wanted. And after I smelled and tasted you, it became a need."

She crawled closer, Caelus shifted uncomfortably. "I really don't understand what's going on, but you certainly intrigue me. Could this be fate?"

He shook his head, not ready to embrace such a notion. "No, no way! I don't even know you!"

She tilted her head thoughtfully, a stark contrast to her earlier intensity. "Then, why not take our time to learn about each other? I've seen too many maidens rush at their crushes only to destroy potential bonds as swiftly as a sword through bamboo... Yes, we should proceed with caution."

Caelus mirrored her tilt, his confusion apparent. Her demeanor was an enigma—one moment menacing, the next seemingly rational and measured.

He conceded to her point, sensing a depth in her words. "Yeah... you seem perceptive? You talk as though you've seen a lot with those eyes of yours."

The woman who bore a striking resemblance to Acheron nodded, her expression turning contemplative. "I suppose you could say that... I've witnessed more than my share of happenings."

Caelus sensed the atmosphere in the room grow dense with her solemnity, and he scrambled for a change of topic. "Umm... Oh! Would you like to hear about that lookalike I mentioned earlier?"

The mood lightened instantly as the oni's eyes sparkled with curiosity. "Yes, you did mention her. Tell me, is she more beautiful than I am?"

Jealousy.

Caelus was taken aback by the question. It hadn't occurred to him that she might be vain, but recalling how Himeko fussed over her makeup and Kafka's meticulous attention to her attire, he realized that perhaps there was a general appreciation for aesthetics among women, or at least those he knew.

Unaware of the jealousy underlying her query, Caelus ventured an answer, "Well, an old man once told me that beauty deepens as you grow to know someone, and they resonate with you. Since I don't know you well, I'd have to say she's more beautiful."

The oni's demeanor dimmed at his words, her voice tinged with a hint of sadness. "I see... so I need to change my personality, is that it?"

Realizing how his words might have been misconstrued, Caelus quickly interjected, "No, no, I didn't mean your personality. I just think that as we get to know each other better, maybe we'll find a lot in common."

'Why did I say that?'

Internally, he cringed at his own phrasing—why was he speaking as if this was a courtship? Yet, he couldn't help but notice a familiar sadness in her, strikingly reminiscent of Acheron's, in more ways than he expected.

'Hmm...'

His thoughts were a whirlwind. Could old man Mikhail have sent him here to learn or uncover something crucial? Was this a realm tied somehow to his past, or merely a vision meant to teach him a profound lesson?

Caelus then suddenly remembered the orb—Mikhail's Legacy—that had been entrusted to him. He pondered, 'Could it be that this orb is what brought me here?'

He had no concrete answers. Among all the cryptic advice Mikhail had offered, a clear explanation of the orb's function had not been one of them.

The oni, observing Caelus lost in thought, shifted from a visage of sadness to one marked by curiosity. She pondered over her own reactions, thinking to herself, 'How strange for me to act so... out of character.'

As an oni, her instincts were to dominate—whether it be humans, battles, or she dared admit, even gods. Yet, as she gazed upon Caelus, a different impulse restrained her. His aura was undeniably kind, tinged with an underlying scent of Destruction, which intriguingly did not mirror his demeanor. She had longed to find someone upon whom she could unleash her repressed stresses—of course, with her blade.

Watching him fidget slightly as he mulled over his thoughts only heightened her impulse to draw closer.

To touch him.

To hold him.

Take him there, and then—

A blush crept across her cheeks as her thoughts raced with primal instincts. No, she reassured herself, she was not a pervert! But the burgeoning feelings were undeniable, stirring within her a tumult of emotion that was both exhilarating and disconcerting.

Then she was besieged by fragmented memories, inexplicable yet vividly colored scenes flitting through her mind. Images of herself, her kimono half-undone, meandering through an area bursting with colors so brilliant, she couldn't fathom their origins. These recollections didn't seem like her own, leaving her disoriented and puzzled.

Voices from these flashes echoed in her head:

"Oh my, if it isn't my dance partner—"

"Ooooh! It's Ms. Purple Hair! Grey Hair isn't here at the moment—"

"Umm... if it's okay with you, I can bring you a guide to help escort you to your room—"

"That sword... How presumptuous of me to block you—"

Each voice belonged to a character more elaborate and extraordinary than the last. She couldn't place who they were; she didn't even recognize them. This bewildering cascade of faces and voices had begun flooding her consciousness only hours after meeting him. Adding to her turmoil, her typically reserved personality started unraveling, emotions flaring and subsiding with startling intensity.

The quiet woman she knew herself to be was rapidly losing ground to an internal chaos, rendering her usual composure into a frenzied whirl of uncharacteristic feelings.

It was all too frustrating!

"Hey—"

That voice intruded again, piercing her thoughts. Could it be the remnants of Yaoyorozu no Magakami launching a mental assault on her?

"Hey—"

The oni clasped her head, desperate to block out the intrusive, vivid flashes. False memories were bombarding her mind, uninvited and unsettling.

"He—"

Please, just stop!

"Hey! You're crying!"

Huh?

The barrage of images abruptly cleared from her mind, leaving behind an empty canvas. Now, all she could see was the man before her, his golden eyes radiating with light and concern as they met hers. His hands were gently clasping hers, grounding her to the moment.

Crying? That explained the tears streaming down her face. She had been... crying.

These intrusive memories were intertwining with her own history—memories of her battles against the Kami. She realized she had been inadvertently blaming herself, allowing feelings she had long suppressed to surface.

Like a dam bursting, her emotions had overwhelmed her all at once.

Caelus looked at her with palpable concern. He might have thought her mood swings bipolar, but her eyes told a different story. Perhaps, like him earlier, she too was lost in thought.

Except, in her case, each flash of her eyes conveyed a myriad of emotions:

Desire, confusion, and profound sadness.

'This feels like comforting Acheron... could she really be her?'

Penacony, a realm of endless possibilities, often mirrors the intricacies of dreams, reflecting pieces of history deeply entwined with the dreamer's emotions.

Could it be that because he so frequently thought of Acheron, the dream had transported him to a fragment of her memories?

If true, this revelation might explain his unexpected journey to the realm with the Voyager, and now, what he presumed to be a segment of Acheron's memories.

Yet, this seemed implausible. Dreams of others are typically observed, not directly experienced.

The Voyager had once explained that her world was destroyed by IX, who then set their sights on her. Caelus chastised himself for not delving deeper into the study of Paths before embarking on his Trailblazing adventures.

He brushed aside those thoughts for the moment. The woman before him needed comfort.

"Are you feeling better now? I can fetch some tea, though I'm unfamiliar with this place. Err..."

He rambled, hoping to lighten the mood, but the woman just shook her head and dabbed at her eyes.

"No, it's alright... I should be the one thanking you for being here. My kin have all departed, leaving me solitary."

Caelus was taken aback by her revelation and felt a pang of sympathy.

The oni offered a melancholic smile, "There's no need for your pity. I was drawn to the cemetery feeling a presence, hoping perhaps you were a surviving kin... but it seems you are not."

That comment stung a little.

Caelus winced, "Oh... I didn't realize. I'm sorry..."

She waved off his apology, "Don't be. You bear no responsibility for my people's demise. You do not carry the shadow that haunts me. By all accounts, you are blameless here, merely a survivor like myself."

Shadow? Was she referring to the same forces the Voyager had warned him about?

'Am I witnessing the phase where her world faces destruction?'

Studying her more closely, he saw the resignation in her eyes—a soul seemingly resigned to her fate.

The sight troubled him deeply. He preferred her spirited; even her grief was preferable to this defeat.

Emotions...

As he pondered the possibilities, a daring thought crossed Caelus' mind—what if he could impart memories of happiness to her? He had promised Acheron that he would always be there for her, and now, suspecting that the oni before him was indeed Acheron from the past, he resolved to leave a positive imprint on her journey.

Fueled by a promise and a gulp of nervous anticipation, likely influenced by Aventurine, he ventured, "Umm... what if I help you?"

The woman, appearing downtrodden, looked up, perplexed. "Help...? What is there to help with?"

Caelus hesitated, biting his tongue to temper his impulsive words. Indeed, how could he offer assistance when he was so entangled in his own quandaries? How could he commence this mission without a clear plan?

Driven by the Stellaron within him, which glowed with a golden aura urging him forward, he rejected the destructive impulses and decided to surrender to the current of events.

"I'll help you in whatever you're trying to accomplish," he declared, embracing the spontaneity of the situation.

The oni's expression shifted to one of surprise, her hands tensing. "You... Do you realize what you're proposing? By helping me, you're essentially dooming yourself. Both of us would vanish into the shadow of my enemy."

Caelus retorted, frustration lacing his voice, "And you think I'm unaware? The Aeon here will devour everything, but what if we leave a mark on history?"

She remained silent, her grip loosening slightly.

"If we are to perish—"

The Stellaron and his heart beat in sync, and the power within him was rising at an alarming rate, as if the Cancer of All Worlds were responding to his words with glee.

"—we will be remembered. This moment, this struggle, it will be etched in the memories of those who witness it. Our efforts, our bravery, they matter!"

He lifted their clasped hands to eye level, his voice resolute. "They forge the legacy we leave behind. I will stand by you, fighting every step. Together, we can shift the course of fate, leave our mark. And I promise you, I'll be there for you, forever."

His declaration, a passionate outpouring of his deepest sentiments, left him breathless. He realized, perhaps for the first time, the depth of his feelings for her.

He now understood that Acheron's past was marked by sorrow, the visage of the oni melding with the Acheron he knew.

She was the same soul he had encountered across different times, whose present self could not recall her intended path. He was determined to alter that, even if only slightly.

The oni, struck by his passionate words, found herself unexpectedly moved. His determination ignited something within her—a desire she had never acknowledged.

Traditionally feared for her stoic, formidable presence on the battlefield, she was touched by his desire to see her yearn for something more.

The need to love.

Her face softened into a gentle smile. "What is your name?" she asked, her voice carrying a newfound warmth.

"Tell me your name."

With a smile of acceptance and joy, Caelus responded, "Caelus, that's my name."

"Hehehe~ My name is Caelus, a Trailblazer. It will be my pleasure to make your day brighter, Acheron!"

Her smile broadened, and she transformed before him, her spirit lifting.

"I am Raiden Bosenmori Mei, and I accept you, Caelus, as my love~"

End of Chapter

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A/N: We're getting closer to the end of this fanfiction!