The crimson vision she had experienced on the day of her complete corruption flashed before her eyes. In that moment, Veronica had glimpsed an understanding of the creature’s nature. She had died and been reborn through that connection.
Die. Die. Be reborn…
In that moment, a thread of divine truth flashed through her darkened mind. Veronica reached toward the elusive illumination that seemed both within grasp and eternally beyond reach.
Wait, could it be… Goosebumps rippled across her skin as her vision cleared with sudden clarity. Has this been God’s plan all along?
The legion arrayed behind her stood out in sharp relief against the cavern walls, their significance suddenly obvious.
They say all things in the world turn under the wheel of cause and effect, but no one had considered that the proliferation of Bahamuts could have been the work of divine providence—even though their numbers seemed excessive for mere instruments of human punishment.
“Have you ever heard of the story called Raindrop World?”
“You mean the Chesanian fairy tale?”
“Yes, that’s the one. The story is about how each falling raindrop contains an entire world proportional to its size.”
Among the bedtime stories Veronica had treasured as a child, she had loved the Chesanian fairy tale above all others because of its profound cyclical nature. She had been captivated by the concept that regardless of what life one lived inside a raindrop, eventually all would become one with the vast sea, only to be reborn from the heavens anew.
Cycle. Yes, divine truth lies within the eternal cycle.
“No, perhaps… we might eventually become the same after all,” Veronica said, her voice trembling with the weight of revelation.
Surprised by her unexpected response, the Bahamut hesitated. Veronica pressed on, seizing the opportunity.
“I’ve always believed that you were God’s mistake,” she confessed. “That even if you were created to punish humanity, your endless multiplication was excessive—that your terrifying rate of reproduction couldn’t possibly have been part of the divine plan.”
The Bahamut remained silent, but she could feel its attention focused on her with predatory intensity.
“But now I understand,” she continued. “God has never made a mistake. The reason He allowed you to spread across the entire land was…”
Veronica lowered her gaze to Apocalypse, still embedded in the ground beside her. The luminous hilt gleamed with golden promise.
“Because as many living beings as possible needed to die upon this soil.”
The Bahamuts were a foreign existence, an interloper in this world’s natural order. But if they died here, their bodies would be broken down by the worms of the earth, becoming nutrients for the soil itself. Those nutrients would nourish seeds of new life, and after bearing fruit, would transform into part of the animals that consumed them. They would finally enter this world’s sacred cycle. Just as raindrops flow inevitably to the sea and fall again from the heavens, they would die and be reborn as a true creature of this land—no longer an outsider.
“You’ve desperately sought God’s love,” she said softly, “but perhaps He has loved even you from the beginning.”
At the mention of love, the Bahamut startled, releasing its grip on her. Its eyes widened. Veronica didn’t hesitate. She lunged forward, fingers closing around Apocalypse’s hilt, and pulled the divine sword from the earth with a decisive motion.
“Die and be reborn,” she said. “And when you return, you can be what your heart truly desires, and live without loneliness.”
In the blink of an eye, her blade cleaved through the air. The Bahamut raised an arm in defense, but its flesh and bone shattered under the force of her strike. The severed limb fell with a sickening sound, dark blood erupting in a fountain. Despite the pain shooting through her own body—the phantom echo of their connection—Veronica pressed on relentlessly. She couldn’t afford to hesitate. She slashed with desperate precision, the sacred blade gleaming with righteous fury and leaving trails of light in its wake.
From behind her came Leon’s anguished cry, almost a scream of protest. Veronica steeled herself, refusing to look back. If I look into your eyes now, my resolve would crumble…
She heard phantom church bells in her mind and recalled the humble inn at Karta where she had learned swordplay. When she had just mastered cutting and moved on to thrusting techniques, Leon had told her that focusing on the sword’s tip was far more crucial than raw power. Does he know how many times I missed my target because I was distracted by his presence at my back?
Veronica pulled the sword back and focused all her attention on the sword’s tip. Pain and sorrow fell away. There was only Apocalypse now, and the divine revelation unveiled as she understood God’s mysterious plan.
With a sickening thud, the divine blade pierced through the Bahamut’s forehead and erupted from the back of its skull.
It stared at her with wide, unblinking eyes as its breath stilled.
Sound vanished as if the entire world had been suspended. Her pulse slowed. At some indefinable moment, only the creature’s crimson eyes and her own thundering heart remained in existence. Her heartbeat echoed against her eardrums like a primal drum.
Everything was crimson. The world was drowning in blood. Newborn infants wailed because they were born into a blood-soaked world. The lingering scent of blood that all life inhaled at birth and the crimson-washed world that filled their first vision—this was the beginning of all lives.
Yet despite this brutal beginning, the child persevered. Even as the world crumbled, the child learned to speak, walk, run, and grow into adulthood—defying the chaos that birthed them.
Very slowly, the blood-drenched world began to reclaim its natural hues. The two shadows, joined by the divine sword like macabre twins, gradually tilted as the blade protruding from the back of the Bahamut’s head scattered into tiny motes of darkness. A powerful wave of energy radiated outward, rippling through the cavern. It was as if the earth itself was creating waves through solid stone. The surrounding legion collapsed in perfect unison, falling like puppets with severed strings.
The scene resembled the undulation of a tempestuous sea, and in this moment of transcendence, Veronica felt no fear of death. She was merely returning to the sea from whence all life emerged—to the sacred origin of all existence.