The battle within the Reality Marble was decided almost instantly.
It was hardly surprising. Even after being infused with divinity, Nameless was not a true Divine Spirit Servant. His spiritual rank still carried the inherent limits of an Alien Apostle.
And his opponent was no ordinary god, but the fusion of god and fairy—the Unity God.
From the very beginning, Nameless had never truly stood a chance in a clash of Reality Marbles.
Clutching his numbed arm, his body bound tightly in chains, Nameless struggled to breathe.
"My husband originally intended to keep you alive," Morgan said from several meters away, looking down at the heavily wounded man. "Why choose such a self-destructive way of fighting? Even in defeat, you might not have died."
"Self-destructive?" Nameless let out a faint laugh. "On the contrary. This is exactly what I wanted."
His Spirit Core had been critically damaged. He was only standing by sheer willpower now. Even his tone had shifted.
"What do you mean?" Morgan raised a brow.
A flash of light rippled outward as the Unity God state dissolved. Shiomi reappeared beside Morgan.
"It seems this suicide mission of yours runs counter to the will of the 'Alien God'," Shiomi said calmly.
"As you've seen, that man Kirschtaria's right to live is held in the hands of the 'Alien God.' We Apostles aren't much better off," Nameless replied with a trace of self-mockery.
Morgan's expression turned thoughtful. "So you've grown tired of being forced to act on behalf of the 'Alien God' and are seeking a way out?"
"A way out? It's closer to liberation." Nameless looked at them steadily. "The 'Alien God' clearly understands the process by which I became a Heroic Spirit. The restrictions placed on me are heavier than on the other Apostles. If my Spirit Origin weren't about to collapse, I wouldn't be able to say a word."
Shiomi's expression sharpened.
It was obvious. Nameless had chosen this moment to end his life as an Apostle and pass along whatever intelligence he could to Chaldea.
"Please," Shiomi said quietly, knowing time was running out.
"Regarding the 'Alien God' who appeared earlier… she is not the true 'Alien God.' She is merely an Alien Apostle—our captain. She simply doesn't know her true identity."
"Besides her, there are six Apostles in total."
Morgan frowned. "So there are seven Apostles altogether? A number modeled after the Heroic Spirit summoning system of the Counter Force?"
"The great witch sees clearly," Nameless nodded. "I am the 'Atlas Killer.' Rasputin is the 'Priest.' Ashiya Douman is the 'Malignant Incarnation.' The three of us are responsible for monitoring and guiding the Lostbelts…"
Saying so much at once was clearly straining him. Nameless clenched his teeth, forcing his fading Spirit Origin to hold together a little longer.
"Originally, the three Apostles assigned to monitor and steer Chaldea were the 'Detective,' the 'Count,' and the 'Professor.' But because of your existence, that arrangement was completely disrupted and could not proceed."
He looked directly at Shiomi.
"I don't know who you truly are. But someone who has ascended to become a living god is not a variable that can be ignored."
"I'm aware," Shiomi replied evenly. "So that so-called Earth Grand Commander—the 'Alien God' who bears the same face as our Director—is in fact only the captain of the Alien Apostles?"
"That's correct."
Still bound in chains, Nameless slowly lowered himself to a seated position.
"If you wish to resolve the Bleaching, you must return to Antarctica. But before that, the remaining Lostbelts must be excised. Otherwise, when Proper Human History is restored, its existence will conflict with the Lostbelts, causing a new upheaval."
"That aligns with our conclusions," Morgan said with a nod.
"There is both good news and bad," Nameless continued. "To utterly crush Chaldea, the 'Alien God' intends to devour the other Lostbelts before launching the final war. In the near future, she plans to take the Chinese Lostbelt first. After that, India."
The notion of the 'Alien God' personally cutting down Lostbelts sounded absurd.
But judging from the circumstances of her descent, what she truly required was the Mana of the Fantasy Trees.
Now that she had manifested, she would inevitably seek to reclaim more power, stockpiling it in preparation for what lay ahead.
Only the South American Lostbelt was being left for last.
Clearly, the Lostbelt overseen by Daybit concealed an even greater secret.
And that, too, had been one of the major points Kirschtaria was scheduled to report in the coming days.
"So even if it's just to stop the 'Alien God' from recovering the Fantasy Tree's power, we have to excise the Lostbelts first," Shiomi said, finally seeing the shape of it.
"How you do it, I don't need to tell you." Blood seeped from the corner of Nameless's mouth, his forehead slick with cold, pained sweat. "Just be careful. The final Lostbelt won't merely be an unprecedented battlefield. It'll be the battlefield, where Chaldea and the Alien Apostles settle everything…"
"I'm aware," Shiomi said, a rough plan already taking form in his mind. "But before that, there's still a Beast waiting for us. Do you know where she is?"
"You mean Koyanskaya?" Nameless thought for a moment. "That woman always avoided getting too close to me. From how familiar she was with Rasputin, she's probably closely tied to Russia."
"Russia?" Shiomi blinked, genuinely surprised.
But thinking about it, the name Koyanskaya did sound distinctly Russian.
Still, the Russian Lostbelt had already been excised. After that, Chaldea had pushed west and dealt with the Scandinavian and Atlantic Lostbelts in turn.
So what could possibly be left on the land that should have been Russia?
"Either way, whether you win or the 'Alien God' wins, it won't be a bad outcome for this planet. That's why Guardians like me were summoned in the first place." Nameless's voice weakened; he was at his limit. "But… I can't accept their methods."
"I see." Shiomi nodded slowly. "Then, for the sake of the battles we once fought together, I'll promise you this. I'll bring this disaster to a proper end, and I'll return the stolen Proper Human History to this planet."
"A declaration worthy of a god." Nameless lowered his eyes, relief softening his expression. "That's what I was betting on when I chose to try this."
"Human history… no. Humanity's fate—I'm leaving it with you."
With those final words, Nameless ran out of strength. He had conveyed his wish through his last fight.
The dark green chains, having lost their bound target, dispersed into nothingness.
Shiomi crouched down, scooped up a handful of the white sand, and let it fall in a slow scatter—his way of offering thanks.
"At least now we know exactly where we're heading next," Morgan said.
"Yeah," he murmured in agreement.
...
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