Once, there was a man who wanted to become someone like the Eminence in Shadow.
To reach that goal, he feared no strong opponent.
The strongest thing he knew back then was a nuclear weapon—so he tried to withstand a nuclear weapon.
He trained his body, his mind, his technique, pushing every trainable attribute to the absolute limit.
But human strength has limits. Even if he honed everything to perfection, the power of a nuclear blast remained an unreachable horizon.
Fortunately, he arrived in a world with mana and with the gods' Blessing.
The world's gift seemed to grant him the chance to challenge a nuclear blast.
So in a world that could finally satisfy him, what answer did he reach?
Some say the best way to eliminate fear is to face fear.
Cid chose something else.
He chose to become fear.
He chose to command fear.
At this moment, the power of a "nuclear blast" rested in his hand.
Alfia could see it clearly: the truly terrifying thing wasn't the blinding sphere of destruction in Shadow's palm.
The true terror was that this entire ruin—no, all of Orario—had become Shadow's domain.
Everything here was under his control.
That sphere of mana, the one that even made her heart seize, might have cost him only three-tenths of his effort.
The remaining seven-tenths was being spent on maintaining this domain.
Shadow wasn't trying to let a "nuclear blast" erase everything indiscriminately.
He was trying to control the "nuclear blast," so it would destroy only what he wanted destroyed.
That domain—was the essence of his "I am Atomic."
Then the mana, refined to an extreme, shot from Cid's hand and collided with the Holy Bell Tower—overflowing with annihilation.
At the moment of impact, all sound vanished.
The shining sphere shattered the Bell Tower and pierced toward the distant sky.
The Bell Tower collapsed, turning the night into a field of white daylight.
The shockwave scattered the clouds, made every building in Orario shudder, and forced the earth itself to tremble.
Every struggle—every clash—was forced into a pause.
Righteous and wicked alike had no choice but to bow beneath that false daylight, hiding from the aftershock.
When the dust finally settled, and after confirming—again and again—that they hadn't died, the adventurers slowly lifted their heads, dazed, and stared upward.
Train your body, sharpen your mind, hone your technique—grow strong, become a great adventurer.
That was the goal many had pursued their entire lives.
Yet before this kind of power, everything they'd chased suddenly felt meaningless.
The confusion curdled into fear—the fear of something utterly beyond resistance.
Just like Cid back then.
A Dark Faction adventurer lowered his head, looked at the Orario adventurer still standing in a daze, then glanced at the knife in his own hand.
He didn't swing.
He just kept staring upward.
He had always lived for quick vengeance, killing, gold, and women.
The first time he tasted that kind of "happiness" was when he stabbed his leader in the back, took his leader's wife, and swallowed every coin their household owned.
Three pleasures—one perfect bite.
Back then, he thought that was the meaning of living.
After that, he never bothered to think about meaning again.
But surviving beneath that artificial daylight forced him to ask the question he'd buried.
Before an absolute power like that, did their fighting even matter?
In that trance—
A blade pierced his chest.
The war resumed.
Even if everything ended as emptiness, there were still people who could overcome confusion and fear and keep moving forward.
The aftershock didn't only reach Orario.
Even the Dungeon felt that tremor.
"Something extraordinary happened up there."
Erebus tilted his head, as if he could look through the eighteenth floor and see the surface.
But with his divinity sealed, he couldn't.
So he lowered his gaze and looked at the goddess standing before him.
The Dungeon hated gods. Outside of dark gods, most deities would never enter unless absolutely necessary.
And the deity before him was one who should, by all rights, be the strictest about rules.
"I'm sorry—I walked down here. I don't know what's happening on the surface. But if there's no mistake, only one battle could cause a tremor like that."
Astraea's blue eyes fixed on the "Greatest Evil."
In this moment, perhaps she had confirmed certain suspicions.
"Justice's goddess breaks the rules and comes into the Dungeon… Astraea, what are you here to do? To erase me, the 'Greatest Evil,' in the name of justice?"
Erebus forced a smile, cutting off her thoughts.
By his side, the Dark Faction escort that had brought him this far was gone—wiped out.
Not only because the route was crawling with monsters, but because the "Great Evil" didn't distinguish friend from foe.
By contrast, Astraea had members of Hermes's Familia with her, and her own combat ability far surpassed his.
The blood on the blade in her hand—and the reverent looks of the Familia members—made it obvious she hadn't been a mere protected passenger.
"As evil, you wanted to witness humanity's future with your own eyes—so you set this trial in motion. Then as justice, I should be present as well, to witness it with you."
Astraea wiped blood from her sword and looked toward the largest battlefield ahead.
This was the eighteenth floor.
Astraea had heard of it before.
Ryuu once complained that the others in her Familia had already chosen their graves here.
Astraea couldn't understand it. Everyone should fight to live.
She didn't know whether the lush, beautiful place people described would still remain after this night.
On the battlefield against the "Great Evil," most of Astraea Familia served as the front line, with Riveria as the primary rear support.
But the most dazzling performance came from Ais—a nine-year-old, level three.
The moment she saw the so-called "Great Evil" was a dragon-like monstrosity, her eyes went red.
She hated monsters—especially dragons.
This time even Riveria couldn't stop her.
Ais became the first spear against the "Great Evil."
Astraea Familia panicked and repeatedly covered her in battle, but quickly they realized Ais's displayed combat ability might even surpass Alise's.
"Awaken—Avenger Princess!"
Black wind wrapped around Ais.
A combined technique of skill and magic turned her into a machine that existed only to fight.
If one could see her face clearly, even her hatred would appear to have vanished.
"They'll win. Have they met your expectations?"
Astraea smiled with quiet satisfaction as she watched her children fight.
They were outstanding—facing such an enemy, they didn't retreat even once.
"Expectations? If we're speaking of the original expectation… it still isn't enough."
Only this dragon wasn't enough to display their radiance.
According to the initial plan, Alfia should have used her remaining time to deliver the final, strongest trial.
Today's battle was still hard—but not hard enough.
Even so, Erebus could only accept it.
Alfia hadn't come to the battlefield that mattered most to him.
Yet as he spoke, Astraea saw no regret on his face.
He was smiling.
Astraea had arrived too late. She didn't know what had happened above.
But she guessed that perhaps Erebus's "mission" as evil had already been fulfilled.
When Chaldo finally beat Ottar and arrived at the ruined battleground, he saw Alfia collapsed, coughing up a heavy mouthful of blood.
Shadow still stood—clean, untouched, as if dust itself refused to cling to him.
Had Alfia lost?
No.
She didn't look severely wounded either—only that Shadow had the upper hand.
But Alfia could no longer continue.
Just like Chaldo himself had been unable to continue earlier.
After hesitating, Chaldo chose to support Alfia first.
"Are you alright…? What's with that look?"
He had never seen Alfia make that expression.
Alfia lifted her head toward Shadow, fury burning in her eyes.
"Shadow… why won't you use your full strength?"
....
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