[Realm: Álfheimr]

[Location: The Deathless Fortress]

"Hm. Quite the rowdy bunch," Morgan murmured, her voice soft and faintly amused, as though she were commenting on something mildly interesting.

Perched effortlessly on the stone ledge crowning a fortress tower, she sat with the poised of someone who had already grown bored. Her violet eyes wandered across the carnage below with detachment.

From up here, the chaos felt almost rhythmic.

Down in the courtyards and corridors, Deseruit Beasts swarmed—muscles, fang, and instinct tearing through prisoners and guards alike. One creature gored a screaming prisoner before slamming into a stone wall. Another dragged a guard across the ground like a ragdoll. A third simply dove from a rooftop, wings flaring as it shredded two men in a single glide.

The Deseruit Beasts moved like disasters, ripping apart everything that drew breath. A grotesque scene.

And yet the Mortifer did not intervene. Her gaze merely shifted sideways, toward the largest stone structure in the fortress—a squat keep with a spire jutting from it like a finger pointing toward the sky.

Her eyes narrowed.

("Koschei's mana is still present… yet he's doing nothing to protect his dear fortress. Instead, he's battling the alchemist girl?") Her brows furrowed, expression darkening. ("I see. So he's with Echidna then—betraying the Retorta Guild just to stand beside a monster.")

She leaned her cheek into her hand, elbows resting on her knees as she watched distant flashes of battle erupt from the tower.

("I suppose I can understand the temptation. Echidna is a powerful, ancient creature. If he's smart—and he usually is—then he's already calculating what favor he can extort from her.") She wasn't surprised. Temptation was a natural human weakness after all. Even so Morgan let out a long, tired sigh and ran a hand down her face. ("Ranked seventh and somehow I end up dealing with the Mother of Monsters. Truly, fate despises me.") A beat. Her eyes brightened, ever so slightly. ("Oh right. I don't. Perfect.")

She smirked.

("Though I do wonder if Dante shall manage… hmm. Perhaps I'll offer a touch of assistance. But somehow, I doubt he'll need much. He's so stiff and stern… reminds me of Lancelot.")

That thought warmed her chest faintly. A pleasant warmth. That memory almost coaxed a genuine smile from her

It lasted exactly two seconds.

Because a sudden shriek ripped through the air beside her. A massive shadow swept over her like a curtain being drawn. Morgan turned her head just enough to acknowledge it.

A hawk-like Deseruit Beast—easily the size of a carriage—hurtled toward her. Its feathers glinted like metal, serrated and lethal. Its beak was grotesquely elongated, more spear than mouth and its eyes burned amber with feral hunger.

It screeched again, slicing through the sky.

Morgan raised her hand, unimpressed.

"I was having a moment," she muttered.

She snapped her fingers.

A concussive burst erupted—sound folding in on itself, the air warping as violet fire outlined in pitch-black roared outward. It detonated. Heat warped the air in an instant. The flames met the Deseruit Beast mid-flight.

It didn't even have time to scream.

One instant it existed.

The next—it didn't.

Not even ash remained.

The violet flames vanished with the same subtlety with which they came.

Morgan lowered her hand with a sigh.

"That's no way to treat another woman's children, you know?"

A voice slithered across the wind, smooth and almost affectionate:

Morgan's eyes dropped.

Across the neighboring tower, a massive serpentine form wound itself around the stone, scales glinting like emeralds. Echidna rose, coiling upward until her upper body aligned with Morgan's height. Her arms folded beneath her generous chest, her smile sharp and predatory.

"Maybe don't send your children to their deaths?" Morgan replied dryly, meeting her emerald gaze.

"Oh?" Echidna tilted her head, the movement almost feline. "You don't sound nearly as frightened as I expected. Hm… I suppose you're not entirely human."

Morgan didn't bother confirming or denying.

The monster's gaze merely drifted back toward the battlefield, her expression shifting into something wistful.

Morgan raised a brow. "Proud of what your children are doing?"

"Mmm… causing destruction like this?" Echidna mused. "Not exactly. That bores me. What I cherish is their freedom. They act by their own will, not by mine. That… matters more to me than you think. My children follow instinct—some tear, some kill, some simply watch."

Morgan followed her gaze.

Indeed, amidst the frenzy, several Deseruit Beasts lounged lazily atop rubble, observing the carnage with curious detachment. One even nudged a fallen helmet like a bored cat.

"You love them," Morgan said, watching Echidna from the corner of her eye. "yet you show no grief as they die. Not a flicker of mourning. Would a mother not wail at such a sight?"

Echidna's smile softened. "My heart aches for each one that perishes," she replied quietly. "But that is their choice. A mother cannot coddle her children forever. A mother who cages her children only buries them in a different way. They must grow, struggle, and—if fate wills it—fall." She glanced at Morgan, voice turning gentle. "Do you not think so?"

Morgan's lips twisted slightly. "I suppose I am a mother of sorts. But I doubt you slithered all the way up here just to discuss philosophy on parenting."

"No," Echidna admitted with a pleasant hum. "Though it would be a lovely conversation. But really, I simply hold a… distaste for the Retorta Guild."

"And so here you are," Morgan replied, gesturing to herself. "Taking it all out on little old me."

"Nothing personal, dear." Echidna chuckled as she raised her hand toward Morgan.

"Yes, well," Morgan snapped her fingers again, voice flat, "neither is this."

A glyph—vast and violet—manifested beneath Echidna, phasing right through the stone tower beneath her.

Echidna blinked. "Ah—"

BOOM!

The kinetic blast cracked the air apart, hitting her her like a catapult and hurling her backward. Her enormous body soared backward, her serpent tail whipping violently in the air, though not a single scale was harmed. Still, she was launched far beyond the tower.

("How impressive. I didn't even sense her preparing that spell…") Echidna mused as her body twisted mid-air.

As she sailed, a massive form barreled toward her—a reptilian Deseruit Beast with four feathered black wings. Echidna's tail whipped outward, coiling around its leg mid-air.

"Thank you, darling," she said warmly.

The beast carried her through the sky, her massive form suspended as she gazed toward the plains.

("What was the purpose of that spell? To send me away? Buy time?")

She frowned.

("No… with how skilled that Mortifer is, she could have prepared something far more potent if she merely wanted time.")

Her gaze dipped downward.

("Perhaps—")

Her thought didn't finish.

SPLAT!

Something shot through the clouds—a human-shaped projectile tearing straight through the Deseruit Beast she was riding. A thunderous boom followed, like a cannon shattering the sky. Blood misted the air as the beast let out a mangled screech while its body split apart, plummeting.

Echidna uncoiled instantly.

Gravity claimed her enormous weight as she fell.

"Ah," she murmured, amused despite the velocity. "So I face him."

Her descent ended hard—stone cracking, dust exploding upward as her massive body absorbed the impact. Her lower half lifted above the swirling dust.

A second figure landed a few paces away—softly.

"Ah… the blessed human," Echidna murmured, her tone not mocking but threaded with curiosity. Her emerald eyes narrowed as she studied the dark figure who had landed before her.

Dante met her stare without a flicker of hesitation. He stood as though the weight of her presence—her age, her mythology, her monstrous legacy—was merely another wind sweeping the area.

Echidna tilted her head. "You do not flinch. You don't even twitch." A smirk curved her lips. "You're a brave one. I'll give you that. But I've seen many brave fools walk toward me with their chests high and their pride blazing." Her smile thinned. "Their endings are never pleasant."

"You do not belong in this realm, Mother of Monsters," Dante said, his tone clear, and oddly gentle—yet it carried weight. "I will give you one opportunity. Withdraw your children. Leave this place peacefully."

The words were simple. Evenly spoken. Yet each one landed between them heavily.

Echidna blinked once… and then laughed softly and disbelievingly. "Oh, human. That tone. That certainty." She tilted her head. "Do you speak for yourself? Or for the God whose scraps of blessing cling to you?"

"I speak because silence would permit further ruin," Dante answered. "You do not belong here. Your children devour lives that are not written for them. Be you monster or God, it changes nothing," Dante continued. Even through the helmet's violet lenses, his gaze felt sharp and unwavering. "Your influence bends an era that is not yours. The people of this age carry their own destinies—ones that do not involve a being like you reshaping their fates."

"Who decided that?" Echidna asked quietly. "You?" She scoffed, voice dropping to a whisper. "Just another mortal with borrowed power?" Her smile sharpened. "I mothered the greatest terrors to ever crawl the earth. I was the chief consort of Typhon. I am the Mother of Monsters. Every breath I take has birthed legends the world still trembles before." Each word pulsed with pride. Her voice deepened. "I have fostered countless children in this realm already. And I will continue to do so… until I carve open the path back to my own." Her emerald eyes gleamed. "Whatever means necessary. Even if I must tear down the boundaries of reality. Do you truly believe I would submit to a human's ultimatum?"

"Belief is irrelevant," Dante replied. "You were warned."

She froze—not in fear, but in surprise. Her brows rose. Then she let out a low chuckle—genuine and amused, but laced with an undercurrent of irritation.

"I must congratulate you," she said. "I'm not sure anyone has managed to annoy me this quickly." She extended her pale arms outward. "But perhaps you should look around before you continue with this self-righteous speech."

Dante didn't hurry. He turned only his head as he scanned the surroundings.

Thousands—likely more—surrounded him. Deseruit Beasts came from every direction: sprinting from the hills, swooping from the sky, dragging themselves from fissures in the earth. They moved with unnatural synchronization, each pair of feral eyes trained solely on him.

Echidna watched his reaction with satisfaction.

"My lovely children," she said, voice softening into something nearly maternal. "I didn't summon them. They came of their own accord." She clasped her hands loosely, almost tenderly. "They simply wish to protect their mother." Her smile turned razor-sharp. "They move for me. They kill for me. They die for me. And you stand alone."

The wind swept past Dante, catching the long hem of his coat, fluttering the silver-white hair spilling behind his helmet. He remained perfectly still.

"Hm," he exhaled, the sound more like a thoughtful grunt. "In times such as these, what someone 'is' matters little." His posture straightened. "To overcome the impossible, one requires only unwavering conviction."

Echidna's eyes glinted. "Conviction does not change the inevitable." Her serpentine body coiled, drawing power into her enormous frame. "Only one of us leaves this place alive," she said softly. Her smile widened—vast and unshakable. "And it shall be me."

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