Just like in the timeline where she had locked herself in the guest room for days, Tristessa had returned to that refuge after tearfully giving back the tray with the tea set to Tiara. She had noticed her inquisitive gaze at the time, though the pregnant woman didn't inquire at all about her depressing condition, allowing her to escape.

The difference with that timeline was that now, the black-haired girl possessed the [Divinity of the Dark Room], offering her yet another layer in which to hide so no one could find her.

For no one could follow her into her mind.

The mind palace—that literal dark room devised by her subconscious—was even more devoid of light than usual. It was as if the red lights had dimmed, and now the corners of the main room were plunged into the deepest darkness.

"Mmm…mmm…"

Lenore hummed along to the music coming out from the speakers, sitting behind the table against the wall and organizing several albums with new photographs. Images that replicated the events from the Wraiths' pursuit to Tristessa's suicide. She stared at the photograph of the girl's head smashed against the glass and drowned in her own blood. A heavy sigh escaped her lips.

"My poor (mistress/lady/owner)…"

The assistant, who couldn't stop crying boiling tears, shifted her gaze to the curtains that divided the living room from the Room of Phantom Remembrances. Inside, the two flood lamps were lit and were the only sources of absolute illumination in the entire mind palace, projecting a shadowy figure against the white screen at the far end of the room.

"…to turn into my worst nightmares," the shadow narrated, pacing slowly sideways, constantly throwing a dagger in the air and catching it after it fall. Not only was it a product of the lamps, but the shadow was three-dimensional, occupying a space in front of the screen and existing there only because of that white surface.

Strangely—in addition to the unnatural presence of a humanoid shadow—the cones of light emitted by the lamps were sharply focused on the screen, without spilling brightness to the sides, as if other surfaces didn't have the physical property of bouncing light. As if they absorbed every light particle. Perfect black bodies.

Therefore, the rest of the room was submerged in darkness. And amidst all that reign of pure blackness, Tristessa was sitting and leaning against one of the walls. Dressed as a junior Earth office worker, she was head down, listening to the silhouette's male voice.

"…no one will hear my screams. No one will come to save me. I am alone…"

The young woman sighed, pressing her thumbs against her temple in a vain attempt to calm the storm inside her -a paradox- head.

"I say the same, Viktor. I understand you so well… And yet, we never met," she murmured, breaking the monotony of the room. "Your isolation, your pain. Shit… I-I feel like I can't bear something like that again."

Tristessa's throat still felt a little weird, having taken her own life like that. Out of her mind, truly gripped by a madness she'd fallen into as if she herself had been a victim of a side effect of her [Divinity of Death and Resurrection].

She felt chills running down her skin just thinking about it. How in that circumstance nothing mattered, and everything came down to wanting to kill that person known as Tristessa Irandell. She'd lost touch with reality so abruptly that even the pain of her cracked skull was superfluous; even at the moment her neck had been ripped open, she felt as if her feet had left the ground. Permanently in limbo. In free fall, with no floor below on sight to know when she was going to get splattered against the harsh reality.

Accepting her resounding failure and the inevitability of fate had been the first step to avoid falling so deep again, and the only one. Taking another step was practically impossible since she was still laying on the ground and unable to get up.

Her resolve had been shattered with her last return to life. Frustration and guilt, two shackles with iron balls attached to her feet.

"…if I had known what awaited me in the Sea of ​​Trees…" she heard the second echo of Viktor Enma, her only consolation in her mental palace, which had become such a dark and sad place due to her current mental state.

She had indirectly forbidden Lenore any kind of interaction, preferring the solitude of that room and only hearing the voice of someone equally or more miserable than her. Someone with whom to share the sorrows that plagued her soul.

"There's no way not to fear Death when it is staring you in the eye."

The light from the lamps cast Viktor's shadow in a way that made no sense within the laws of physical optics. The shadow was supposed to be absolutely dark, but you could see some light against the white screen, and even... You could see something that wasn't completely white.

The unnaturally created penumbra gave way to a sinister veil, in which it could be seen residual visions left by the mercenary, along with the echoes of his soul. They were visions of the Sea of ​​Trees; a hidden necropolis disguised by countless trees, like a horror movie where Viktor tried to escape from something...or someone.

"…the witches of the Coven are coming for me. Their eyes see everything," said the shadow, reproducing the first echo and, thanks to that phrase, causing Tristessa to pick up one of the photographs scattered on the floor around her legs.

She saw the golden phantasm of Daiana, manifested thanks to Lucahn's ability, which she had forced him to use. An unforgivable sin.

"Of course they see everything. With that damn Simulacrum, Daiana will always know what her parents are doing or planning to do. She torments them day and night, playing with their lives until the day prophesied by Moebius arrives…" Tristessa crushed the photograph inside his fingers in a fit of rage and dropped it to the side. She felt disgusted at the sight of that now deformed representation of that psychotic woman who had gotten away with it. "And she knows I'm here, in the house. She's got us cornered. Whatever action I take, she'll always be one step ahead…"

"It wasn't until the moment I felt the maws of the Abyss enclosing me in darkness that I realized I too am weak. So fragile, so scared. The loneliness was driving me insane…"

That's how she felt too, thinking of the Dullahan. Another photograph developed since their last encounter, that dark knightess in the center of the frame with Auron and Severus standing beside her, dead and resurrected. A photograph that hurt too much to see...

"It's impossible to kill her... I don't want them to go through that again... O-our paths should never cross," she sobbed, the constriction in her chest intensifying at the consideration of that option. "If only I could have convinced Astoria, maybe... No! Another Death to carry on my conscience?! Idiot!"

Of course, what she said was with the photograph of that beautiful woman with silver hair and red eyes in her hands, staring into the nonexistent camera with that coldness so alluring, so dangerous...

"I don't… No more… I don't want others to die because of me," Tristessa clutched that photograph of the knightess in white armor, the one of Severus smiling at her, and the one of Auron inside his tent offering and her a soul-jewel. "I don't want to die anymore!"

Stifling sobs and moans filled with suffering, Tristessa shed tears on her hands, on those photographs of people who had occupied different parts of her heart so unexpectedly...

That was how human relationships worked. We all come into the world to leave marks on the hearts of many. Scars that fester the moment Death arrives, leaving nothing in its wake, eroding and erasing all that is good until it left a desolate, arid wasteland in place of our troubled spirits.

Such was the implacability of Death. In the span of a heartbeat, everything ends, and only silence remains.

…

But Tristessa had been banished from Death.

That had been the silent decree of Vel'Moran, the God of Chaos and Lord of the Fundamental Aspects of Death and Dimension.

And on that world called Nekrom, Death responded to her differently.

"…Huh?" The grey-eyed girl felt the strength of a pulse inside her. A shock of unnatural, but not hostile, cold, as she normally felt emanating from her Baptism in Ruins. It filled every pore of her skin, covered her eyes, ears, and exited her mouth in the form of a sigh of polar air. "What is this…?"

And she felt that same invisible pulse coming from Viktor's shadow, who for the first time since she discovered her [Divinity of Whispers in the Dark], had stopped making that continuous, unchanging movement from side to side: now he was still, holding his dagger in his right hand and, apparently, looking in her direction.

"I fear Death, I do… How could I not? It's the last doom that we all are forced to face, one way or another," She heard him say, new words that didn't fit either of the harvested two echoes. She stood and walked slowly toward that shade, until she was standing right in front of him, although limited by that optical illusion that would never allow her to make physical contact. "And it's in moments like this, on the verge of falling into the void, that the only option left is to not give up."

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The penumbra projected against the screen showed Tristessa new images from the mercenary's memories. How he had stopped in his tracks and, gathering his courage, turned around to face that group of witches who were chasing him in between the dark woods. With his dagger in hand, he assumed a fighting stance, ready for the worst.

"Viktor…" she whispered his name, one hand on her chest as she continued to feel that icy pulse synchronized with the mercenary's shadow.

In the unrelenting darkness, while hearing the screams and laughter of those evil women… Tristessa felt Viktor's heart turning to steel, and his fear of Death prompting him to attack. To seek victory, even when it was impossible.

"I will die on my feet. Not bowing to the Evil that lurks in the dark. This weak and frightened man is still breathing. Here they come… I am alone, no one will save me, but I will fight to the very end." In his ethereal voice, Tristessa felt the determination she had lost. The last desperate attempt to cling to life, at the moment when evil descended upon him to devour his very essence. "Do not forget my name. That is all I wish… Remember me."

The girl closed her teary eyes, guided by a greater force, inspiring her heart. Her [Divinity of Whispers in the Dark] synchronized her soul with the mercenary's shadow, in a demonstration of a new function it possessed.

"It's impossible to forget you if you leave such a deep mark in my soul…", she murmured.

The pulses of the spiritual plane, meeting in constructive interference, allowed her to acquire another lost echo.

To harvest it and merge it with her soul, in a process of cultivation that allowed her to reach new heights at the spiritual level.

So that Viktor Enma would never be forgotten, his memory living within her like a monument to his strength. His willpower, inherited.

"Spiritual Resonance. Your third echo…" she whispered, watching with a bittersweet smile as that shadow disappeared, until she needed to hear his voice again. "Is this an attempt to motivate me? To keep me from giving up?"

Tristessa couldn't help but giggle. She wiped away the last tears that were trickling down her cheeks, red and aching. Her eyes also hurt, from crying so much. And yet, there were always more tears that kept coming. An endless stream that flowed from that ocean of sorrow that dwelled within her.

"Fool… You give your strength to a girl as useless as me. It'll only get us all killed again," she said, sighing in resignation. She picked up the photographs from the floor and looked at them again, unable to purge the suffering that overwhelmed her. "Fuck… I really don't have any other choice, do I?"

Deep down, she knew what she had to do. There was only one option available. One path.

"Mistress…?" she heard Lenore call her, timidly and hopefully, once she moved the curtains away and exited the Room of Phantom Remembrances.

The mind palace was no longer so dark, its red lights having returned to normal. The music was sounding as always, crackling and old. A calming a melancholic tune…

"Here. Keep them safe," Tristessa asked her assistant, handing her the photos once the woman dressed in a lab coat stood up from her chair. "I have a lot to do and no time at all."

"Does that mean…?!" The assistant not only accepted the tear-stained photographs but also showed her enthusiasm for her Mistress' attitude.

"I'll try again. And this time, without anyone else having to die," she explained, nodding but not smiling. There was truly no reason to smile at all. "I'll do it alone. As it should be."

Those words alone were enough to shatter Lenore's optimism.

"What…? But…!"

Without listening to her, Tristessa left her mind palace and returned to the guest room, where she had been sitting on the edge of the bed. Her back ached from being so straight and still. If she could have, the first thing she would have done was stretch, but first, she had to deal with an intruder… Or rather, the owner of the house.

Sitting in the only chair in the room, next to the window with her arms crossed, Tiara Archeos had been watching her with the patience and silence of an assassin. Someone who was willing to kill, and Tristessa knew that too well.

"You smell of so much [Discord] that I can't even stand in the hallway without wanting to barf…" was the first thing she said, breaking the silence and getting straight to the point. "Are you a witch of the Coven?"

After so many time-loops, it was almost nostalgic to hear that accusation. She would have smiled, if not for the fact that she hated that woman to the core. Nevertheless, she was going to try to save her life, but everything Tiara did in the past couldn't be erased… Tristessa could only offer her poisonous coldness, expressed in an answer destined to change the [inescapable future].

"No. But I know a witch who will come to this house and kill us all if we don't leave today."

DIVINITY OF THE DARK ROOM

BLACK MIRROR - Updates in Yellow

TRISTESSA IRANDELL

MAIN STATS

Strength: 1 out of 100

Dexterity: 3(+3) out of 100

Endurance: 3 out of 100

Vitality: 4(+2) out of 100

Intelligence: 6 out of 100

Spirit: 9 out of 100

Willpower: 0

(+3)

out of 100

Luck: 0 out of 100

SUBSTATS

Hit Points: 20(+5) out of 10000

Magic Points: 1 out of 5000

Spirit Points:

75

out of 5000

Stamina: 40 out of 5000

Poise: 8 out of 1000

Immunities: 5 out of 500

Physical Resistance: 15 out of 500

Magic Resistance: 10 out of 500

Instant Death Resistance: 2

(+3)

out of 500

Terror Resistance:

2

(+3)

out of 500

Madness Resistance: 7 out of 500

Karma: -25 points between [-100 and 100]

PASSIVES

First Echo of Viktor Enma: +3 Dexterity points. Bonus on daggers and knives.

Second Echo of Viktor Enma: +2 Vitality points. Bonus on HP.

Third Echo of Viktor Enma: +3 Willpower points. Bonus on Spirit Points, Instant Death Resistance and Terror Resistance.

Curse of the Nemesis (Dullahan): -1 on every main stat and -5 on every substat for each confrontation against the Dullahan. Cumulative.

EQUIPMENT

Casual Shirt: No damage negation bonuses

Casual Trench Coat: No damage negation bonuses

Casual Trousers: No damage negation bonuses

Casual Boots: No damage negation bonuses

Hunting Knife: +D physical damage bonus from Dexterity scaling

DIVINITIES

Death and Resurrection (Dark Resurrection)

–

Divinity of Death, granted by the God of Chaos, Vel'Moran. Banished from Death, there is no end to the abyss on the horizon. Dying is a straight line. Resurrecting is a spiral

.

Baptism in Ruins

–

HIDDEN BY UNNATURAL DARKNESS

Gradient of Madness

–

The forbidden truth emanates from the overlapping of multiple realities. No sentient being can endure it. The logical result is madness

. (Grants +9999 points of Madness-status effect to friends and foes alike after consciously learning about the

[Divinity of Death and Resurrection]

)

Accursed Existence

–

Divinity of Life, granted by the Goddess of Order, Xiliarra. Life is a gift, rejoicing in it is an obligation. Even for those who reopen their eyes and beg for oblivion

.

Arising Capacity

: 1

Soul Strain

:

1 SP per second for Fading Souls – 5 SP per second to use a Divinity

5 SP per second for Lesser Souls

–

8 SP per second to use a Divinity

Whispers in the Dark

–

Divinity of Power, granted by the God of Balance, Kantrus. It is believed that the dead tell no tales. The reality is that it is a matter of who is willing to listen

.

Harvested Echoes

:

3

Spiritual Resonance

–

A premonition of the other side, a message sent with the serenity of the grave. The dead fear oblivion. Show them that they are not forsaken

.

Dark Room

–

Divinity of the Mind, granted by the God of Balance, Kantrus. The mind can always be a darker place than one believes. Its corridors can be endless, a labyrinth capable of swallowing its owner alive, and no one will hear their screams.

Room of Knowledge

Room of Phantom Remembrances

Negative Altar

Projector Room

Assistant's Offce

Black Mirror

HIDDEN BY UNNAURAL DARKNESS

TITLE – Scum

"You are weak. Fragile and unwanted. You are nothing. Your allies see you as a burden, they despise you. Your enemies mock you at your attempts at survival. You are destined to fail."

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