Lord Of The Mysteries: A Slug of Time

Twilight.

Bright and binding. It rose from the horizons bathing the crimson in decay and roars as the armies of Giants marched forward, draped in Silver and Dawn armour plate and armed with great-weapons of all kinds. Their roars shook crooked the wind and the weight of their steps shattered the ground, turning it into a mess of debris. and decay.

Leading this enormous Giant armies and marching right in front was the God of Dawn. The Son of the King "Himself" wearing a shimmering silver armour that radiated the splendors of dawn a bright dawn against the pale crimson moon light, carrying "He" behind "His" back a massive sword as large as "His" heavily muscular and gigantic build.

Behind the visor of "His" silver helmet glowed pale blobs of light, their illumination decayed anything it landed upon. And currently they shined upon a massive city cloaked in black. It rejected the crimson moonlight, as the kingdom's walls rose high and mighty and looking down from them were curly haired Baboons and Cloaks that appeared unusually dark, as if actively eating away at light from their surroundings.

The Giants marching increased in pace as they got closer and closer to the sprawling Kingdom that had appeared out of thin air. But no matter how much they walked, ran, or roared, the distance between them and the kingdom's wall never decreased, always staying the same.

A distortion?

The God of Dawn upon realising this fact, raised "His" Right hand and gripped on the sword behind "His" back before raising it up high. Its glow pulsated giving out a signal to the Giants behind him to halt their steps.

The God of Dawn then pointed "His" sword straight ahead. The twilight that enveloped it pulsated again before growing out, stretching across the land enveloping it in Dawn's glow. Then with a single twist of "His" sword, a loud boom shattered the air and the entire area flashed in black before the God of Dawn roared and ran straight ahead, following behind "Him" the entire armies of Giants.

"He" had enveloped the distortion of distance in twilight before decaying the use of authority away. The entire Giant's army, at once, ran towards the Kingdoms high and mighty walls and begin to torn them down with minimal efforts.

This was a War.

…

About thirty to forty-five meters underground, nestled within a narrow corridor, hovered three figureless cloaks, assigned with guarding the area and maintaining scrutiny. Beneath their current level lay the prison floor, with several cramped cells lined the cold stone halls. One of them now housed the latest transgressors, the newcomers to the city, captured mere hours ago.

The cloaks drifted idly by, entranced in a stupor. There really was nothing to do for them except to guard this place. But what to guard against? It wasn't like their prisoners would attempt to escape, when they could barely make any futile attempts of resistance after breaking every law they were specifically told to follow. As for the Giants army approaching their kingdom, they would have to—

Suddenly a foreign sound pierced the air—footsteps. Two distinct, deliberate steps. And following these footsteps came an aura so cold, so utterly merciless, that even the lifeless cloaks felt something crawl along their being. It was haunted. A terror beyond reason. So extremely heavy and razor sharp, it pressed down on their very existence as though daring them to breathe.

A knock on the door. Far from polite, it was a loud bang that brought these cloaks out of their momentary stupor. There formless being turned towards the direction of the sound—the heavy door leading to the lower level, the jail cells.

Before any of the cloaks could make a move, the door exploded off its hinges, it crashed through the narrow corridor slamming into the ground beside one of the cloaks with explosive force. The footsteps from before resumed and entering the narrow corridor a woman stepped into view. Her long black hair elegantly locked in a beautiful flock. Her pristine white shirt hung loose over matching white trousers. She moved with a knight's discipline, every step poised reflecting discipline but grace. In her hands was a long sword, its blade coloured obsidian, and its handle carved with intricate patterns. The sword itself felt like an unnamed legend.

For a moment, there was nothing but complete silence. The cloaks stared at the woman through their hollow visage, while the woman, tilting her head at a slight angle, stared back at them while taking deep measured breaths. 

Then she moved.

In an instant, she closed the distance, the corridor thundered as the ground cracked beneath her step, her dash so incredibly fast to leave a blur of her moments. Her upper body leaned forward as she angled her sword and then cleaved through the nearest cloak in a single, brutal slice.

The strike of her sword painted the entire corridor in pitch black inky darkness. The force behind her swing was so immense that the very walls around crackled, trembling under its destructive force, as they were now etched with the ghostly scar of a single, flawless slash. Without missing the beat, the woman straightened her posture, her grip on the sword tightened as inky darkness slithered on its blade. Then, with swift precision, she performed a single slash in the air, in the direction of the other two cloaks.

The darkness rippled for a single instance before translating the swing of her sword into a flurry of spectral slashes. Each arc was curved like a sharp blade that rained down on everything present in the corridor. The remaining cloaks, unable to react, let alone retaliate, were effortlessly cut down, undone in the blink of an eye.

The woman straightened her posture once more, lowering the tip of her sword to the ground. From behind her, a man slowly approached. One hand rested over his chest, just above his heart; the other hovered near his mouth, as if trying to muffle the awe written across his face. His eyes, wide and gleaming, were filled with nothing but amazement.

"That was…" Before he could have finished his sentence, the woman—Morgane—snapped her head towards him and flashed him a sharp, amused grin. "Let's get moving, Merlin. Call it a hunch, but I've got a feeling things are only going to get more… interesting. Or maybe just a bit more intense." Merlin gulped and gave a quick nod, trailing behind as Morgane's gaze lingered a moment longer before she turned and broke into a run, their footsteps echoing through the corridor.

"I am assuming the Monarch and the Consul would be at the topmost floor of the Castle?" Morgane cried out as she kicked open the door ahead and began to ascend the stone steps two at a time. "Indeed. According to my estimation, this castle should contain a total of Twenty-Three floors combined underground and above. We're currently nine floors beneath ground level. Once we reach it, the rest should be a relatively straightforward climb."

Merlin answered, to which Morgane simply nodded, letting out a loud, amused chuckle. "About the Giants?"

"I have a feeling they won't pose much of a threat."

"Indeed they won't." Morgane's voice remained calm, almost serene yet beneath it lingered a subtle trace of amusement and unmistakable excitement that only grew wider as the door to the next underground floor—Eight—entered her view.

In an instant, she struck the door with the hilt of her sword, blasting it open with a resounding bang. Two cloaks and three humans came into her view, their forms dimly lit by the dying glow of the wall-mounted torches. The cloaks turned their featureless visage displayed an odd awareness, while confusion and alarm twisted across the faces of the humans, as they instinctively reached for the swords and rapiers strapped to their hips. The two formless cloaks let out a low, distorted rattle before expanding and gigantifying in size, their shapes swelling until they nearly engulfed the narrow corridor, casting the space into an even deeper gloom.

Morgane's expression emptied in an instant, any and all traces of emotion vanished from her face. Her eyes turned lusterless, cold and vacant. Behind her, Merlin stepped back twice, staying within the shadows of the stairwell as he quietly observed the situation unfold. This was slightly more complicated as Humans were mixed in the bunch now unlike the encounter on the previous floor. Which meant Morgane couldn't unleash the same overwhelming display without endangering innocent lives most probably forced into their roles.

Or at least that's how it seemed at first. But then Merlin noticed it. A grave mistake… one that had just been made. In their attempt to gigantify, the two formless figures had allowed the helms of their distorted forms to brush against the tightly knitted walls of the narrow but tall corridor. And in doing so, they had snuffed out the faintly burning torches—one by one—until the entire passage was swallowed by shadows.d5

And that… was the worst possible error for they had just plunged themselves into Darkness against a being who was so incredibly close to the being embodiment of Darkness itself.

Morgane exhaled softly, a silent breath escaping her lips, while her figure vanished leaving no trace, not a sound made, not even the faintest shift in the air. The cloaks crept forward, cautious yet unaware, inching towards where she had stood just moments before. The humans, however, were far less composed. They staggered back a few steps, arms trembling under the weight of their weapons. Knuckles turned white from the deathly grip on the hilt, they held their breath tightly, eyes darting through the darkness, bracing for an impact they would never see coming.

But it was all for naught. Morgane's figure materialized silently beside one of the three—a man with a scruffy brown beard and unkept hair. Before he could have registered the presence at his side, Morgane, with swift precision, swung the hilt of her sword into the side of his head. The blow landed clean. He crumpled instantly, hitting the ground with a dull, heavy thud.

The sound alerted the remaining two. But before either could so much as turn their heads, Morgane's body shifted and in one fluid motion, she repositioned her stance, raised her leg, and launched a sharp kick. Her heel soared through the air and connected squarely with the second man's jaw, releasing an impact that was just enough to knock him unconscious, yet not enough to break his jaw.

Without wasting a second, Morgane reached out and seized the last man by the collar and hurled him across the corridor. His body flung like a ragdoll toward the two towering cloaks at the far end. As he flew across the corridor, Morgane used his airborne form as cover to mask her stance. She dropped low—upper torso tilted, eyes gleaming sharply in the dark. Her sword rested over her shoulder, blade angled waiting to strike. One leg braced forward, the other slammed back with such force that the stone beneath her heel cracked from the sheer pressure.

Morgane took one singular, sharp breath. She launched her body into a blur, a flash of movement as she ducked low, sliding beneath one of the two cloaks. She rolled cleanly beneath its hollow, shapeless visage made of nothing but pure black and as she passed under, her blade began to shimmer. Darkness rippled across its length. With a clean, precise swing, Morgane unleashed a wave of inky black mass, her blade carving through the formless figure in one flawless arc—severing it in half, undoing its very existence.

Without waste, Morgane twisted herself, immediately turning her body toward the second cloak. Her sword snapped into position, angled to cleave it in two.

But then her momentum faltered just slightly. A hitch. The fabric of her clothes clung heavier to her skin. The sword in her grasp suddenly felt denser, heavier. And her thoughts, sharp and ordered a moment ago, slightly fragmented, her mind fraying at the edge of a frenzy..

But it lasted no longer than a moment.

The surrounding darkness pulsed as if coming to life, and radiated from its depths a soft hum that carried with it a strange sense of peace, quiet, and serenity. It rippled outwards, halting the movements of the cloak in its tracks, and washed away the creeping frenzy that had begun to gnaw at Morgane's mind.

She didn't miss a beat. In one seamless motion, Morgane lunged forward, driving her sword into the helm of the cloak. The inky black mass that veiled her blade thrummed, vibrating as it pierced through the entity—splitting it from within and pinning it firmly to the stone floor. The darkness around her stirred gently. Like calm waves rolling over the ocean's floor, it flowed toward the stricken cloak and swallowed it whole without a sound.

Morgane rose back to her feet, lifting her sword with practiced ease before giving it a casual swing through the air. Suddenly, the torches lining the brick walls flared back to life casting illumination across the ruined corridor. The passage now lay nearly crippled, walls fractured etched with ghostly scars and scorched. The three humans were sprawled face-down across the stone floor, each one unconscious, their weapons nowhere to be seen. A single clap echoed through the space.

Merlin finally stepped in from the stairwell, his expression lit by quiet awe. A smile played on his lips, his eyes gleaming, and a faint blush tinged his cheeks.

"Amazing…" He murmured in amazement and meant it. There was something undeniably exciting and magical about watching Morgane in motion fighting not just like a Knight, but as someone wielding the full breadth of her authority with precision, grace, and deadly control.

Morgane smirked, tightening her grip on the sword as she turned without hesitation. "Only the beginning." Her voice was soft, tender slipping into the air like a whisper, yet it sent an inexplicable shiver crawling down Merlin's spine.

Then she stepped forward and with a snap of her fingers, the three unconscious men began to fade—bit by bit—erased from their spots. Her stride remained unbroken until she reached the door that would take them to the next floor.

Morgane turned slowly, driving the tip of her sword into the stone floor. With quiet grace, she rested her one hand gently on the hilt while her upper body dipped into a theatrical bow. With her other arm, she extended a casual flourish toward the doorway, her gaze locked on Merlin.

"Shall we, my prince?"

Merlin couldn't have described the sensation he felt in that moment even if his life depended on it.

A shiver? Probably.

Funny? Absolutely.

Embarrassing? Most definitely, upon being called "Her prince."

But he didn't let the thoughts wander any further. Instead, he stepped forward, placing one hand gently in hers while using the other to push open the door. "Sure," he said with a small smile and a blushed face. "My knight in the dark cloak." Morgane flashed him a cheeky grin, sharp and amused.

This was stupid. All of it. 

There was no real need for any of this. They could've opened a Door straight to the main hall, bypassing all obstacles, and seized the two Uniquenesses with minimal to no effort.

But—

And this, Morgane had come to understand—this was the point.

What fun would there be in that?

If not they could enjoy this life—together—after individually facing so many hardships, what was the point of living?

If they couldn't be reckless, mischievous, stupid, even just for a moment, what was the point of being a human?

To be a human is to be stupid. Sometimes embracing tomfoolery was maybe the real path to joy.

With that thought lingering in the air, Morgane and Merlin began their ascent through the castle.

Starting from Underground Floor Ten—the Jail Floors—where their coup had first begun, the Knight and her self-proclaimed Prince had already cleared Floor Nine and were now making their way past Floor Eight. Floors Seven through Three posed little challenge. The layout remained largely familiar, with only slight differences in shape and size. The only real difference was the escalating intensity of more humans, more cloaks, each with slightly altered sequences and formations. But nothing Morgane couldn't handle with brutal efficiency.

The one notable floor however was Five: Not a single cloak but only seven human enforcers. It was the one floor Merlin took the lead in, running straight ahead with Morgane trailing at his back, her sword ready to strike at moment notice. The seven enforcers roared as one, raising their weapons high, prepared to cut down the odd-looking man. But just as their blades began to descend Merlin raised his hands. And with a sudden, echoing clap, he brought them together right in front of their faces.

Suddenly, a burst of brilliant, colorful light exploded—like fireworks igniting at point-blank range. Blinded, the seven enforcers staggered back, groaning and crying out in disoriented agony. Merlin didn't stop smiling. He sidestepped gracefully and clapped again—another flash of vivid color erupting into their already-overwhelmed vision. He rolled forward—clap! Ducked beneath a wild swing—clap! Leapt into the air with theatrical flair—clap!

By the time he landed, all seven men had collapsed to their knees, eyes buried behind trembling hands, their weapons scattered helplessly across the floor. Neither Merlin nor Morgane spared them more attention than necessary as they continued their ascent, unfaltering, as if it were all part of the performance.

And finally, as they passed through the third floor entering the empty second, a voiceless thought erupted in their head. A law decree. Absolute. A Law had been invoked, enforced with such authority that even the King of Angels and the False Sequence 0 would be bound beneath its weight:

"The Act of Sprinting is Prohibited in this Kingdom!"

Immediately, both Morgane's and Merlin's strides faltered, their steps forcefully reduced to a walking pace. Their individual vision expanded in its myriad ways as they gazed over the entire kingdom at once.

The Giants!

They had managed to break into the Kingdom!!

And they were approaching the Castle at a dangerous pace!!!

Even the forceful enforcement of the Sprint Law had only slightly slowed their advance. At this rate, they would reach the heart of the castle within moments.

"Hehe…" A soft chuckle escaped Merlin as he glanced up at the arched ceiling of the floor. His gaze lingered there, lost in thought for a few seconds, before he let out a quiet sigh and turned toward Morgane.

"We need to increase our pace," he murmured. "If we wait any longer, more Laws will be introduced… and each one will only make our task trickier."

Morgane nodded slowly, her lips parting as her gaze locked with Merlin's. Her thoughts swirled like a storm beneath her calm exterior. "The Act of Sprint…" she muttered. "So we can't run or dash anymore." She tilted her head slightly, studying him with sharp intent. Then, a soft chuckle escaped her lips.

"Hehe, it doesn't matter anyway."

Without hesitation, she began walking toward the exit door, sword in hand, her pace casual with deliberate steps.

"Tell me," she asked, voice light, "we can't just break the law by force?"

"Mhm—nope," Merlin replied with a half-smile, already reaching for the door. "This is a pseudo Divine Kingdom, formed by the union of the Black Emperor and Justiciar Uniqueness. Any Law invoked here is absolute. Its effects get magnified… or distorted… in ways that benefit the castle."

Morgane nodded again, taking in a slow, deep breath as the door creaked open.

"Then shall we humor them?"

Merlin did not reply, instead he flashed her a smile while holding the door for her. Morgane stared at him for some moments, then let out light, aloof laugh. With a flick of her wrist, she repositioned her sword and reassumed the stance of a Knight, poised and unwavering.

The First Floor, like the Second, was silent. Empty. Not a single entity in sight. But this time, neither Morgane nor Merlin was surprised. Gently, the two of them trod their way towards the stairwell leading to Ground Floor, out of the underground chambers.

One step at a time, as they could no longer sprint, the Knight and her Prince heard screams and roars, the sound of banging and clashing metals as well as smashing and breaking. Morgane, walking ahead, light tapped the door before swinging it open to a brutal spectacle.

The Door led them to the Foyer of the Castle, a gigantic hall with royal steps leading to the upper floors bathed in bloods as Giants thrashed the place, arms raised with weapons and clenched into fists striking down upon the human enforcers that attempted to stop them out of pure fear.

One of the Giants, upon spotting the pair, let out a thunderous roar. Without hesitation, he raised his massive war hammer and hurled it in their direction like a comet of silver and dawn. Neither Morgane nor Merlin so much as flinched. Merlin simply gave a small, dry cough and vanished from sight.

Morgane, meanwhile, lowered her sword, then broke into a fluid sequence of athletic rolls, gracefully dodging the incoming weapon. Each movement brought her closer to the Giant, her momentum building, the distance shrinking with every swift motion.

Rising smoothly to her feet, Morgane angled her body into a perfect stance. With a twist of her wrist, she spun the sword once through the air before tightening her grip. The obsidian blade tingled, once more cloaked in a veil of inky black that seemed to drink in the light around it.

The Giant let out a bellowing roar and summoned forth The Sword of Dawn, its blade radiant with blinding brilliance. He raised it high, ready to bring it crashing down upon Morgane in a single decisive cleave.

But then suddenly he froze.

His massive hands began to tremble. A shudder ran through his towering frame as he instinctively staggered backward, step after clumsy step. The Sword of Dawn flickered, its radiance faltering almost completely fading as though smothered by an unseen force.

His silver armor rattled violently, constricting around him like a cage. His expression twisted from pure bloodlust to terror. Not just fear. Not even dread. What filled his face was pure horror, raw in form, primal in nature.

It wasn't just that Giant. The entire battlefield fell deathly still. The screams, the roars, the clash of weapons, all of it halted in an instant.

Every head turned. Every gaze snapped toward a single being. Morgane stood still, sword in hand, and from her being radiated a terrifying aura, so pitiless and merciless, that every entity in that room felt it bloom in the pit of their stomach—the most primal, most ancient instincts clawing to the surface.

Horror. Utter Terror.

Morgane's sword trembled faintly as she took a few steps forward, stopping just at the threshold of the Foyer, her presence now fully confronting the entire chamber. The once neatly locked flock of her hair unraveled, strands unfurling and whipping outward as though caught in an invisible storm. She lifted her right foot, placing it a step forward. Her spine straightened into a perfect line. Her eyes widened unblinking, eerily still. And her hands raised the legendary sword over her shoulder, its edge humming with inky dark.

It had been consumed—utterly devoured—by darkness, its shape and length concealed beneath a churning shroud of inky black. That darkness grew, swelling outward like a living thing, warping into the form of a massive broadsword that stretched impossibly across the Foyer, its sheer size engulfing a portion of the chamber.

The Giants stood frozen, unable to move. Their minds drowned in a tide of terror so vast and unrelenting they hadn't even noticed that every human in the room had vanished. Leaving them to face their fate, their Misfortune.

Morgane waited for a dew point, and then, without the slightest flicker of unease, she swung her sword across the entire Foyer. At that moment, nothing mattered. Not the silver armor of Giants. Not the protective barriers of Twilight. No level of defense could have withstand the colossal blade of darkness as it carved through the Foyer in one clean, absolute cut.

For a long time, near-complete silence reigned. Not a speck of dust stirred. Not a breath was drawn. The air hung motionless pressing down with an invisible weight. Only one sound remained, heard only by the Knight and her Prince standing at the threshold of the Foyer:

Ringing.

That exploded into a burst.

In that instant, the giant's bodies became limp, separating in two halves before every body part burst into a stream of blood and light and rained upon the entire room. It was a blood rain, accompanied with liquid light while the entire foyer shook to its core, flashing in black before turning into a pale ghost of destruction and utter —

The blood rain dyed the entire room in crimson red, yet not a single drop fell on Morgane's figure. She stood empty in the destroyed Foyer looking at the scene she had just caused. Then her head slowly turned towards the Magician standing at the entrance of the Foyer looking intently at her, his smile slightly faltering for a moment before becoming a bit wider.

Cruel and genocidal is inherent to her nature. Not affected by Divinity or Humanity, that is simply a quality of Amanises or Evernight Goddess. The thought made itself aware in his head and Merlin jolted it down in his memory. "Quite a spectacle you have caused?"

Morgane smiled, turning completely towards him. Not a hint of remorse present in those eyes or that delighted expression. "It's as I said Merlin, 'We could do this stealthy or we could hold a spectacular show like the fools we are.'" Merlin giggled, bringing a hand to his mouth. He walked towards her, tipping his classical hat before pointing towards the utterly demolished staircase leading to the upper floors of the castle. 

"We need to advance and do so quickly. The fact that no new law was introduced by now is concerning…" Morgane nodded and tilted her head slightly shifting her body weight to the hilt of her sword. "We'll encounter more Giants up the floor and perhaps even the Son of King…"

"What sequence would "He" be at most?"

"Sequence 2. But that's besides the point. The Giants are heavily in control of the…" Merlin suffered through a pause before letting out a low chuckle and continued. "Error Pathway."

Error? Morgane did not attempt to hide her confusion. She had never heard of this pathway even when Klein explained all Twenty-Two Paths of the Divine to the Original Body Amanises. Merlin maintained his smile, his lips parted as he whispered in a low, mysterious tone.

"The Trojan Horse of Fate,

"The Slug of Time,

"The Loopholes in Rules,

"The Manifestation of All Errors."

"The Sequence 0 of Marauder Pathway and one of The Paths of the Divine under Lord of Mysteries. It's the loopholes underlying all the rules of this universe. A "BUG" in all existence." Morgane held her breath while the pupil of her eyes slightly contorted and expanded. Error… What an interesting name for a pathway. I don't think this is the original name considering the origin of that word. So perhaps he conceived it? I remember Klein once said that the 'Giant' in 'Twilight Giant' likely came to be due to the possession and complete control Giants had over the pathway rather than the actual name which is supposedly only 'Twilight'.

Morgane shook her head in acknowledgment prompting Merlin to wave his hand in front of his face and spoke out loudly. "As you can probably guess from 'The Loopholes in Rules', the pathway is adept at breaking laws and even more so bending them and introducing new flaws."

"I can hear your line of thoughts. Lets hurry then shall we? Keeping our keepers waiting isn't good courtesy Merlin." Morgane voiced elegantly, overlooking the slight speck of red that crept on Merlin's ears. "I-indeed."

Merlin cleared his throat and lifted a hand, snapping his fingers. In the same instant, both their figures flickered, phasing out of existence and disappearing, reappearing atop the grand staircase that spiraled toward the upper floors of the castle. Merlin's worms of spirit begin to churn replicating Distortion, the ability borrowed from the Black Emperor's Pathway. This was done so every step they took from here would cover tenfold the distance. At the same time he reached into his coat and took out six cards from his inner pocket. He flicked his wrist as the cards soared through the air, planting themselves in various spots around the destroyed Foyer

Stepping into the Twelfth floor, the stone walls shook as one Giant emerged, nearly brushing the ceiling and the hanging chandeliers with his towering height. His entire body was clad in steel or dawn armor, and in there his grasp was a longsword that was embraced with Twilight. The moment his eyes landed on them, he immediately stomped forward the floor beneath his step ruptured, a loud roar crackled in the air.

But Morgane was not slow. Her sword positioned perfectly, its obsidian blade coated in pure inky dark. With a single pivot of her foot, she vanished from her place only to reappear in the air, just above the Giant's shoulder.

She raised her sword high above her head, and the darkness that swirled at its blade tingled, growing in intensity, rippling outwards like waves in the ocean.

With one effortless slash, her sword cleaved through the silver armour like a knife against butter. It didn't matter what protections or defenses were put in place; Morgane's slash was flawless. It undid the Giant's very right to exist.

With not so much a grunt, the Giant toppled, his upper and lower body to separate halves, each falling away in slow, trembling collapse. Merlin planted another card right beside it earning a raised brow from Morgane.

"Any destruction caused in the Palace will result in strict punishment."

Morgane chuckled upon the declaration of the new Law. She knew how to be Serene.

On the next floor, two more Giants awaited.

One of them raised a tower-sized shield the moment he saw her, while the other raised his gigantic arm condensing a silver rapier made of small specks of light. He unleashed the silver rapier towards Morgane, its fury torn through the air with explosive force toppling the entire floor as even more silver rapiers followed after it.

Yet Morgane did not change her pace. She gazed at Merlin for a moment exchanging silent words before taking a single step forward, her sword dragging behind her flaring with inky pitch black. The Giant with the shield braced himself, grounding the metal deep into the floor.

He never got the chance to lower it.

As in a gentle, clean motion, Morgane swept past him, his shield still upright but his upper half was already falling sideways, bisected from the waist.

In that same instance, she snapped her fingers causing every Rapier in the air to suddenly disappear--bit by bit--without a trace. The Giant that had summoned them appeared momentarily stunned yet before he could have scrambled to summon another, Morgane jumped upwards thrusting her sword in the visor of his helmet.

The Giant screamed in pain, his hands launching to take hold of Morgane's airborne body yet it was to no avail. The darkness that cloaked the obsidian blade bellowed, piercing through the tip of her sword as Morgane applied her body weight on the hilt bringing the sword down completely, spilling the body of the giant in two perfect halves.

She gracefully stepped back on to the carpeted floor swinging her sword freely in the air. Just then more thumping noises resounded as more Giants came into her view. Morgane sighed, shaking her head before reassuming the stance of a knight, holding her sword precisely and against the approaching army of Giants.

And in doing so she completely missed...

The blissful expression on Merlin's face.

…

"You may not point the tip of your sword towards another Entity."

She can still slice without falter.

They stepped into nothing.

Floor Sixteenth was no longer a floor.

The walls were warped, corridors twisted into spirals, up and down and left and right ceased to exist. There was no geometry to this place. Merlin's body floated weightlessly beside Morgane's, limbs slightly swaying, the folds of his coat drifting like he was underwater.

Dark, formless cloaks hovered in the disjointed void, their shapes barely holding together, flickering between frames of this room.

One of them "blinked" and suddenly gravity suffered from its effects. The entire room turned sideways. Morgane and Merlin were flung across a hallway that stretched like a void. Their bodies spun around wildly, to someone else it would have been impossible to tell where they were standing. But not to Morgane and Merlin, the latter simply making use of Positioning authority of Door while the former reverberated with the dark of her surroundings.

Finding her bearings, her sword remained still.

A single flash of black. The inky darkness of her blade pulsed once and then twice before expanding, like a ripple in space connecting to the darkness in the entire floor.

It aimed directly towards every cloak hovering in the air, and then with a single twist of her sword the distortion shattered, the waves of darkness flattened entire corridors and consumed those darkened figureless without a sound, like a pit consuming its prey with no remorse.

Merlin floated gently to the floor beside her, dusting himself off as he flicked even more cards out of his pocket.

"Your disdain for non-Euclidean design remains... consistent."

Morgane giggled walking by his side. "Annoying shapes." she chirped up, passing the sword to her other hand before putting the unoccupied one over Merlin's shoulder. In her laid back and momentary relax, she had, once again, failed to notice—

The slight jolt that went through Merlin's body… and the shimmer in his eyes that was anything but natural.

…

With each floor they advanced, the palace only got more relentless. Giants, shapeless cloaks, human beyonders albeit the last one was far too easy to deal with. Yet Morgane did not falter, her sword relentlessly struck anything and everything, slicing and killing whatever wasn't human. Her aura exuded such coldness and ruthlessness, striking pure terror in its wake and delivered death, consuming in utter darkness anyone that dared cross their path.

"Jumping is Prohibited."

Morgane could kill without taking a step.

"You are to maintain a distance of 5 metres from another Entity."

She could kill without approach.

Yet Merlin… he could not stop himself from finding something magical about it, admirable about it. The way her body moved, twisted without effort. The stance she took before slicing with her sword. That cold expression and emptiness that flickered with joy and smirk whenever her gaze landed on him. 

Him.

This feeling…

Even his real body sitting in Sefirah Castle could not shake off this feeling. It was… warm… his face was warm. Had Morgane enchanted him with her odour?

He was certain about it one thing—actually two:

This feeling—These feelings weren't normal. This warmth wasn't normal

And that he wanted to feel it even more. Even deeper.

Before these thoughts could have rooted themselves any deeper, Merlin in the real world was brought out of his trance. Morgane stopped before the next staircase, her breathing calm, her blade humming faintly with residual dark. He walked up beside her, his hands behind his back, expression empty.

Before them stood the final staircase.

Where the Monarch and Consul awaited.

They slowly walked up the steps and entered the Twenty-Third floor.

Before them stood a gigantic door, carved from black and pale stone, its surface etched with patterns: intricate circles, angles, and fractals, shifting softly like ripples on still water. It was the symbol of Order and Disorder, locked in a perpetual balance. And serving at its backdrop was the silhouette of a nation cloaked under the shadow of The Anarchy.

Morgane stepped forward first, pressing her palm gently against the door's cold, textured surface. Merlin followed, his gaze locked on the silhouette of the nation with a wary furrow of the brow.

Nation of Disorder...

Together, they pushed. The doors creaked open slowly revealing behind it a lavish room painted in gol—

Suddenly the palace shook. A violent tremor tore through the very bones of the structure. The torches lining the wall flickered. The air twisted, sharply swirling. The stairs behind them splintered in silence.

A sharp, invisible weight was lifted from the air as if a crown had been stolen from the head of the world. A divine pressure dissipated and Merlin felt it in that instant.

The grant of Law had been revoked.

His chest tightened. His eyes snapped open wider. "...Morgane," he whispered.

"I know."

They both slammed the doors open.

Inside awaited a throne room of colossal scale, walls gilded in gold and shadow, etched with streaks of pure starlight and hung in tapestries and luxurious grandeur and immeasurably large chandeliers.

But it was not the throne that commanded attention but the figure standing before it. "His" frame was enormous in size and encased in silver metallic armor, polished to divine luster, "His" front covering the throne that stood several meters high from the ground. Strapped across "His" back was an enormous sword larger than any blade either of them had seen, its edges glowing faintly, bathed in Twilight

Slowly, "He" turned towards them. The two small blobs of light under the visor of "His" helmet burned intensely, becoming slightly brighter once his gaze landed on Morgane. Something... was off about this woman.

But neither of them paid "Him" any attention, instead their focus was on the throne behind "Him".

No Book. No Lamp. No Crown. Nothing Merlin was expecting when ascending this palace.

The Uniqueness's were gone. They had escaped and evaded their grasp.

Morgane's eyes narrowed, but her stance didn't shift. Merlin stood frozen, realizing that their little fun had caused them to miss The Monarch and The Consul.

Tsk... Tsk... No matter. For now we need to-

Suddenly The God of Dawn made a step raising the Sword of Twilight, leveling its tip toward them. Since the consul was no longer present to enforce the rules, all laws introduced by It had suddenly lost their weight.

And if that wasn't enough, innumerable Giants rose from the shadows of the throne room, surrounding them, encircling Morgane and Merlin. Three on their backs blocking the door. Five in front of them. standing a little further away from the Son of King. And some to their right, where an enormous stained-glass window stretched from floor to ceiling. The glass shimmered with artistry, letting the faint rays of crimson pour in different stained glass of red, blue, and violet.

And the God of Dawn began to walk towards them and with each step he took, the giants around took two.

Morgane held her breath once more. Her stance lowered, precise, one foot stepping forward, the other anchoring her in place. Her sword rose gracefully beside her, its tip angled downward as a slow, creeping pool of darkness began to unfurl from beneath her boots, cloaking her blade in inky black. Her eyes narrowed, gaze locked onto the advancing giants and the silver figure at the far end.

Then a low chuckle sounded. Mischievous and familiar. Morgane's head snapped to the side, brows furrowing slightly. Merlin's lips curled into a playful smirk. His posture was relaxed, almost lazy. One hand dipped casually into the inner pocket of his coat, while the other reached up and tipped his classical hat.

In a single flick of his wrist, a total of seven cards were launched in the air, slicing clean and pinning themselves in various spots around the grand throne room. The Giants around immediately scrambled to pounce on them including the God of Dawn but their actions suffered an indefinite pause. The blob of light radiating from their visors dimmed to an almost extinguish.

Blind Stupidity.

At the same time, he turned grabbing Morgane by the wrist and whispered to her in a mischievous tone. 

"Time to Leave."

The look on Merlin's face, that smirk planted by his lips, those eyes filled with nothing but mischief, told Morgane everything she needed to know.

What would a grand show of Fools be if not without a ridiculous ending?

This truly was utterly stupid. 

"Copy." 

Throwing her sword away into a pool of darkness, Morgane, now smirking like an idiot, and Merlin, maintaining his smile, began to run on to their right, towards the stained-glass window. They jumped over the giants upfront landing back on the ground with grace. Hands in hands, both holding back a snicker as their steps slowed down upon reaching the stained-glass window.

Merlin turned around on his heel right in front of Morgane as he took a few steps backwards, tightening his grip on her hand just as the God of Dawn recovered from the effects of Blind Stupidity. "His" head snapped in all directions, and "His" gaze now burning more brightly landed on The Knight and Her Prince witnessing—

Her fell in his arms, burying her head in his chest, entwining the fingers of her one hand with his, while the other gently wrapped around his waist. Merlin and Badheil's gaze momentarily locked 

"And now, the curtain shall fall."

Merlin snapped his fingers.

Every card exploded. Planted all across the palace by Merlin during their ascend, a bright stream of colours exploded throughout the entire castle blasting the structure into ruins, including even this grand throne room. While the massive stream of fireworks and colour blinded the God of Dawn, the force of explosion was just enough to knock Merlin and Morgane out through the stained-glass window. 

Their entwined figures soared through the air, while the two began to laugh like idiots. They were idiots. Crazy idiots. Morgane's face rose up from his cheek, her delighted blushing face cupped against Merlin's similar exposition. The Crimson Moon served as their back drops while the falling castle crumbled underneath the destruction caused by them.

This… was the best of their life.