Something was off.

Aaron felt it before he understood it—an odd tug in the pit of his stomach, a tiny disturbance scratching at the edge of his focus. His brows knitted instinctively.

Something was definitely strange.

BADOOOOM!

The sky split apart as Ethan's lightning crashed against him again. Sparks exploded across Aaron's vision, and he staggered back mid-air, struggling to keep his concentration from slipping.

His left hand clutched tightly around the black sphere—an unstable orb forged from fragments of the curses sealed within Pandora's Box. Even holding it was like gripping a living nightmare. Curses twitched and hissed beneath the surface like venomous serpents desperate to escape.

He had crafted a very clear plan: destabilize Pandora by force, push her until she lost control, wait for Athena's predictable intervention, and then use Pandora as the weapon to crush Athena. The plan had been smooth so far. Pandora was losing control, falling deeper into the madness of her own reality-warping curses.

Gods in the distance had reinforced a divine barrier to keep the curses inside, their golden shields trembling under the pressure. They were buying themselves time—nothing more. Eventually, Pandora's chaos would pierce right through them.

So why… why had everything suddenly gone quiet?

Aaron's eyes snapped toward Pandora. She was still concealed in that roiling storm of darkness—curses swirling like a cosmic hurricane around her silhouette.

By now, she should have already torn through the barrier. It was inevitable. Unavoidable.

So why was nothing happening?

No… that wasn't right.

The issue wasn't that she was taking too long.

It felt more like… she was regaining control? Or the curses were somehow stabilizing?

That thought punched the air out of his lungs.

"Impossible…"

"What are you daydreaming about, Aaron?!"

BADOOOOM!

Ethan's voice sliced through the sky a split second before another lightning strike slammed down toward him. Aaron barely managed to twist his body, swinging his sword up to intercept the blow.

The impact detonated like a thunderclap, hurling him violently across the sky. Clouds ripped apart around him as he tumbled backward.

He grit his teeth. Fighting with one hand gripping a sword and the other clutching the cursed orb was infuriating. The orb pulsed violently, hungry, dangerous. Even a single fragment of Pandora's Box was enough to curse an entire kingdom. Controlling it required complete focus.

Focus he didn't have right now.

He tightened his fingers around the sphere until his knuckles turned white, drawing out more of the curse's power. Dark energy spiraled up his arm like smoke as he forced the fragment to obey.

He flicked his gaze back to Pandora—expecting, hoping, for the raging darkness to intensify.

But nothing changed.

Not even a flicker.

Instead… the darkness began to shrink. The curses swirling around Pandora dimmed, almost as if something inside was consuming them, calming them, pushing them back.

Aaron's eyes widened until they trembled.

"I… impossible…" he murmured again, voice cracking.

He had pushed Pandora this far. He had driven her past the edge, shattered her sanity. For her to regain control this fastwas something even the gods would call absurd.

What the hell was happening?

His mind snapped back to the memory of Nathan—who had flown straight into the heart of Pandora's curse storm.

Aaron had scoffed at the time. Obviously, Nathan had thrown himself into certain death. Even demigods couldn't survive more than a few seconds near Pandora when she released the true curses of the Box.

There was no scenario where Nathan lived through that.

None.

So how… how was Pandora stabilizing?

Aaron's thoughts circled back—relentlessly—to one person.

Nathan.

It hit him like a slap. The timing, the sudden shift in Pandora's aura, the way the curses no longer thrashed uncontrollably… there was no other explanation. Nathan was the only variable that had entered the storm of curses.

"The hell… did he actually…?"

Aaron couldn't even finish the thought. It was too absurd.

Even if Athena had personally trained Nathan, armed him with divine artifacts, protective talismans, blessings, whatever—none of that mattered. Pandora's curses weren't something handled with trinkets or shortcuts. If it were that easy, someone else would've mastered Pandora in the last hundred thousand years.

But nobody ever had.

"You're not smiling anymore, Aaron?!" Ethan's mocking laugh tore through the sky.

He blurred from sight and reappeared beside Aaron—his lightning-coated fist slamming brutally into Aaron's ribs.

The crack echoed sharply.

Aaron was launched across the arena like a stone shot from a catapult. He crashed against one of the upper seats of the coliseum, shattering marble as he rolled across its surface.

A hiss of pain escaped him—but he forced himself up instantly, barely dodging Ethan's next flash of lightning.

What the hell is happening?! he screamed inwardly.

Everything had been under control. Everything was supposed to go his way. There shouldn't have been any surprises—his plan had been airtight.

So why… why was the world suddenly spiraling out of his grasp?

Then he heard it—the sharp, collective gasp of the gods.

His head snapped toward Pandora.

And he froze.

The darkness—those writhing, endless curses—were gone.

Every last wisp of them.

The storm had cleared completely, revealing Pandora lying unconscious and defenseless… in Nathan's arms.

The entire coliseum fell silent.

Mortals and gods alike stared with eyes wide as planets. Nobody breathed. Nobody spoke. The sight was so unbelievable it felt like a hallucination forced onto their vision.

Nathan was a wreck.

He stood barely upright, chest bare and torn open by wounds that still oozed fresh blood. It dripped down his arms, down his abdomen, painting him in streaks of red. His white hair was a matted mess—blood-soaked, tangled, almost burnt. His skin was darkened, cracked, peeling in some areas like it had been scorched or corroded.

He looked half-dead.

More dead than alive, really.

Just how was he even still standing?

"He… he stabilized Pandora…?" Hermes breathed, voice trembling as his eyes widened.

Shock rippled across the divine seats.

Something that required multiple gods working together… Nathan had done alone?

And survived?

"Amazing! He's amazing!!!" Ishtar squealed, practically shaking, her cheeks fully flushed with excitement. Her eyes sparkled like she was witnessing the birth of her new obsession.

Not far from her, Amaterasu finally exhaled—a long, shaky sigh of relief. But despite the relief, worry pulled at her expression. Nathan's condition was too horrifying to ignore.

And she wasn't wrong.

Nathan felt worse than terrible.

The last time he'd been this destroyed was when Liphiel had burned him alive.

But this time? This time was thousands—no, tens of thousands—of times worse.

He felt like his entire body had been dissolved slowly in acid for endless hours. His nerves screamed. His bones throbbed. His muscles burned like they'd been torn apart and stitched back together with fire.

The curses he absorbed still writhed inside him, gnawing at his flesh, his blood, his veins—eating him alive in a slow, merciless way that would've made even gods faint.

But Nathan held on.

He endured through sheer willpower—the kind of stubborn, terrifying resolve that didn't make sense for someone mortal-born.

His breath came in ragged gasps, every inhale sounding like it might be his last. Yet he moved slowly, carefully lowering himself, keeping Pandora securely in his arms as if she were made of fragile glass.

She was unconscious—her pale skin smooth, unblemished, her breathing steady. Compared to him, she looked almost untouched.

Of course she did.

She was the vessel of the Box. Her body was built to withstand the curses, no matter how agonizing. But the mental strain? The emotional toll? The pain of losing control?

Those were battles her flesh could not shield her from.

Nathan landed softly atop the highest point of the coliseum's roof, his feet barely making a sound. The wind brushed against his battered skin, stinging the open wounds like needles dipped in fire. Still, he moved carefully—almost tenderly—as he lowered Pandora onto the ground. He made sure she was comfortable, stable, and safe before his body finally gave out.

He dropped to one knee.

A harsh breath tore from his throat, followed by another, shakier one. His knee trembled violently beneath him, threatening to collapse entirely.

The pain…

It was unbearable, endless, clawing at every corner of his being.

He felt like he was burning from the inside out, melting from curses still crawling through his veins.

But he had to endure it.

Even though every instinct shouted for him to scream, to collapse, to sleep for a century—he couldn't. If he loosened his grip even a little, if he lost himself the way Pandora once had… he could become another Pandora, another vessel of chaos. And if that happened—

His women, his future children, everyone he cared about… they would be the first to suffer.

That alone kept him conscious.

"What did you do?!"

Nathan slowly lifted his head.

Aaron was already charging toward him at full speed, expression twisted with fury and desperation. He looked wild, unhinged. The sight of Pandora lying safely beside Nathan had broken the last remaining thread of his composure.

Of course he was pissed—his entire plan had just been shattered in front of the gods.

If he could get to Pandora again, he could restart everything. In his mind, the game wasn't over.

Nathan's legs trembled violently as he forced himself upright. His vision swayed… but he stood. Somehow.

With a flick of his hand, his golden sword materialized—gleaming brightly even as his grip shook.

But before he had to move forward, Ethan streaked in from the side like a lightning comet and intercepted Aaron mid-charge.

"GET OUT OF MY WAY, ETHAN!!" Aaron bellowed, spittle flying.

"It's over, Aaron," Ethan replied coldly.

He didn't hesitate. Lightning surged along his blade, condensing into a single, devastating strike.

BADOOOOM!

Aaron was hurled backward through the air, crashing hard against the coliseum wall. His right arm hung lifelessly at his side, clearly broken—but incredibly, he still clutched the black sphere in his left.

Nathan's breathing grew rougher. His eyes fell on the sphere—still filled with the condensed fragments of Pandora's curses.

Slowly, he raised his hand.

Aaron's eyes shot open wide in panic.

"No—NO—!"

The sphere ripped itself free of Aaron's grip, drawn irresistibly into Nathan's hand like a piece of metal dragged by a divine magnet.

Nathan caught it easily.

His demonic, luminous eyes lifted toward Aaron—cold, steady, merciless.

And he crushed the sphere.

The fragment exploded in his hand, shattered into dust by the very curses trapped inside Nathan's own body. A pulse of dark energy rippled through the air before disappearing harmlessly.

Aaron froze.

A visible shiver ran down his spine. His eyes stretched wide in terror. For the first time, true fear swallowed him whole.

Nathan exhaled, vision warping. His body swayed.

His consciousness was slipping.

Fast.

"Medea…" he whispered weakly.

He wasn't calling for her—only sending her a message. He was fine. She didn't need to rush to him. She just needed to take care of what he'd asked her to handle.

Aphrodite and Amaterasu were watching. He knew neither would let anything worrisome happen to him.

But, as it turned out… he didn't even need to rely on them.

A warm golden light enveloped the space before him, gentle like sunlight filtering through spring leaves. A silhouette materialized inside the glow, stepping forward with quiet grace.

"Look at your state, Septimius."

Nathan forced his eyes upward.

Demeter stood before him, smiling softly, her presence radiating warmth that soothed even his cursed wounds for a moment.

"W… what are you…" he managed to whisper, barely standing.

"Athena asked me," Demeter said simply.

She extended her hand.

A wave of golden light unfurled from her palm, engulfing both Nathan and Pandora. The warmth wrapped around them like a blanket, dissolving through their wounds, easing their breathing.

And in a soft flash of light—

The three of them vanished from the coliseum.

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