A/N: Do read "Chapter Sixty-Two: He, Who has Broken Fate" before reading this chapter to avoid confusion.

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"He has done it."

"He has passed."

"Indeed, he has passed. With this, Idrila will pass on with no regrets."

"Hahaha! This is fun, fun! Oh, look! He's going to destroy the dream and go back to !@#$%^&*()."

"Answer: No."

"◼◼"

"Equilibrium, he has succeeded, hasn't he?"

"Order, enough."

"That is acceptable."

"He touched the Tree, and it will grant him personas of many kinds."

"He is neither mortal nor a god. He will have enemies in his story from here onwards."

"Finally! An enemy, a rival! Yay, yay!!!"

---

Artorias stood in the midst of the Eternal Rest, the domain that had both confined and defined him. As he grasped the High Abyss, the greatsword hummed with a readiness that mirrored his own resolve. The blade, infused with the essence of the Abyss, was eager to cut through the veil of a tormented dream—a realm that had once ensnared him with illusions of failed beauty and grotesque creations masquerading as the Great Ones. Now fully aware of their abhorrent nature, Artorias was determined to end this deception.

Turning his attention to the resurrected knights, his new legion borne from the legacy of Idrila, Artorias inspected them. Each knight radiated with a light purple glow, their jet-black armor sheathing them completely, paired with tattered black capes that fluttered like shadows in the wind. They were formidable, each wielding swords that seemed to whisper of battles past and those yet to come.

Among them stood Igris, distinguishable by the long red hair-like ornament that flowed from his helmet, a stark reminder of their shared journeys with Alphen and Sandra. Memories of camaraderie and strife filled Artorias's mind, bringing a rare smile to his lips. 

"Igris, it is delightful to see you, again," he declared.

The knight kneeled in recognition, followed by his brethren. They retained their memories and essence but were now bound by a new allegiance—to serve and protect Artorias eternally.

Yet, the silence from the knights was palpable. Artorias understood that their resurrection under his command was still incomplete. Perhaps, as he grew stronger, so too would their essence fully awaken.

Artorias then focused inward, sensing the pulsating power of his Black Heart. This new core within him absorbed the surrounding void, converting it into a form of energy he identified as mana. Though it differed from traditional mana, its potential was undeniable, a mystery he planned to unravel in due course.

With a mental command, he directed his Shadow Army to meld back into the darkness, their forms disappearing into the void, ever ready for his summons.

He then activated the Abyssal Gate. The portal, now more menacing with the Black Heart amplifying his powers, swirled open, and Artorias stepped through it, emerging into the decayed kingdom where he once met his end.

Surveying the landscape, his gaze fell upon the unnaturally bright red moon, its hue reminiscent of a sea of blood—a stark contrast to the kingdom's decay. Memories of his endless battles against the spawn of the Great Ones replayed in his mind, a six-month cycle of relentless hunting and discoveries, now culminating in this moment.

Disgust filled him as he looked at the crimson moon. "Recalling it now, I don't remember the moon being this bright. Though, now that I look at it, the color reminds me of the sea of the deceased in this kingdom," he mused aloud. His resolve hardened. "This dream will be ruined in the making as I sever its connection from the realm."

Raising the High Abyss, Artorias infused the blade with the shadows that crawled from his armor, the runes upon the sword glowing with an ominous mix of purple and blue hues. As he prepared to strike, he glanced at the spot where he had last seen Igris and Sandra, a pang of pity briefly crossing his thoughts.

"It is all a dream—a nightmare that should not exist. Rest well, Sandra, for I will tear this world apart."

With those words, Artorias brought down his sword in a swift, decisive motion. The lines of fate that held this realm together shimmered like fragile glass before shattering under the force of his strike. The world around him fractured, the red moon splitting in two as reality itself began to unravel.

Cleave!

The destruction was swift, a mere moment between the swing of his blade and the collapse of the dream. The realm shifted, and Artorias found himself standing in a forest bathed in ethereal light, surrounded by mythical creatures that fled from the power he exuded.

As he touched the pendant at his chest, now glowing brightly like a full moon against the dark hues of the Abyss, a familiar connection tugged at him. 

"Zephyr," he called out, summoning another of his knights, this one marked by the spark of lightning that danced along his blade.

"Scout the area, I will see my eyes through yours," Artorias commanded.

With a nod, Zephyr vanished in a flash of black lightning, leaving Artorias to extend his shadows across the new forest, asserting his dominion. Moments later, a disturbance in their connection drew a sharp gaze from Artorias.

"Hmm, a man resembling the IPC's stones and three girls. One of them carries the essence of Lan," he noted, his eyes blazing with an Abyssal miasma as he prepared another Abyssal Gate to Zephyr's location, determined to confront whatever new challenges this realm held.

---

In a quaint clearing, under the soft glow of the ethereal moon, Adabas, the Enigmata, reclined on a uniquely crafted chair, blending wood, metal, and animalistic features—a testament to her profound creativity. Nearby, Mono, devoid of any reservation, devoured a massive dragon steak, her chewing resonating through the tranquil night air.

Pluto was engaged in the meticulous task of sharpening her dual blades, the moonlight reflecting off the polished steel, a reminder of Jingliu's recent ascension which had altered the celestial tapestry. Seris, meanwhile, gazed mournfully at the moon, her thoughts drifting to the curse she had once brought upon her homeland due to a moment of selfishness. With a heavy heart, she turned her attention to her tea, watching the ripples in the liquid mirror her turbulent emotions.

Holos, with a jug of star-crafted rock in hand, courtesy of Boras, relished a hearty drink. "Phew, that hits the spot! Never a dull day after returning from that so-called 'expedition'," he remarked, his voice echoing the relief of being back in familiar surroundings.

Seris, swirling her tea to prevent it from spilling, queried about the expedition, "Expedition? The last time it was you all being summoned by Finality on a mission. How did it turn, may I ask?"

Boras, after downing his drink in one long gulp and wiping his mouth, replied, "A lot of things came up, really. As you know, Lady Terminus can delve into the past and all with her concept of time, so things can be forgotten along the way. Plus, I'm exhausted from everything that happened; I can't even use the full extent of my power because of this exhaustion."

Capturing Seris's full attention, she leaned in, eager to know more about their adventure. "That's nice to know, but what was the main objective of your excursion?"

Boras paused, searching his memory before responding, "Something about finding the meaning of life. I couldn't really catch what Lady Terminus said, but she was gravely concerned about the matter. There wasn't really useful info I could gather that was connected to the journey, but I found mine personally. You can ask Vahn or Patches for more details."

The mention of Patches made everyone cringe, especially Mono, who expressed her disdain, "He's still alive? That backstabber ought to be crushed by my own hands if I ever see an atom of his being in my field of view."

Adabas intervened, trying to soothe the tension, "Let's relax, sister. We all despise him, too. But he has his uses at times."

Mono glanced at her twin, anger in her eyes, but Adabas' stern gaze calmed her. Pluto, hearing the name of Elation's Favorite, lost interest and returned to her blades.

Holos couldn't help but snicker at the dynamic, finding humor in their collective disdain. Boras, scratching his head, added, "I forgot that you all hate him. And for the record, you can always ask the others, y'know? Though, I wouldn't be surprised if Icaria has made Miquella spill the tea; she views him like a little brother."

As the group processed Boras's words, they resumed their activities, basking in the silent ambience. Suddenly, Holos tensed, sensing an intruder. "Who goes there? Show yourself!" he demanded, his voice booming as he prepared to unleash a constellation of starlight from his mighty fist.

The rustling forest revealed a knight cloaked in shadows, wielding a sword crackling with lightning. Seris' eyes widened in recognition. "Ze-Zephyr...?" she whispered, memories of her past lover and the friendships shared flooding back.

Boras, puzzled, remarked, "Isn't he one of the Knights of Beauty? What's he doing here, and alive?"

Seris remained silent, overwhelmed by the flood of past traumas resurfacing. But before any more could be said, Zephyr, the Shadow Knight, launched an attack, sending bolts of lightning hurtling towards the group from his sword.

As lightning danced unpredictably through the air, each member of the group showcased their unique abilities in response to the threat posed by Zephyr, the shadow knight. Adabas, using the half of Enigmata known as Red, swiftly conjured an illusory shield, enveloping her companions in a protective barrier that shimmered with a spectral glow, deflecting the relentless assault of electric energy.

Holos, with celestial might fueling his movements, charged toward Zephyr, his fist aglow with the power of stars. Despite his formidable approach, Zephyr conjured a shield of black lightning, narrowly fending off Holos' attack. The clash, though blocked, altered the landscape around them, a testament to the titanic forces at play.

"Boras!" Holos' voice echoed across the battlefield, summoning the blacksmith to action.

Armed with a diverse arsenal, Boras displayed his mastery over weaponry. With practiced hands, he launched a spear of wind at Zephyr, who deftly dodged by a mere tilt of the head. Not deterred, Boras followed with a bow of water, crafting arrows from the liquid that sliced through the air with lethal precision. However, Zephyr's command over lightning proved overwhelming, effortlessly negating the aquatic assault.

Frustrated and fatigued, Boras exclaimed, "Damn it! I'm too drained to use every weapon I have. This tough bastard is just too much. Oi, Seris, your story is really sugar-coating their strength!"

Mono, irked by Boras' continuous commentary, snapped, "Woi! Stop yapping and support us, you buffoon!"

Boras bristled at Mono's retort, retorting, "What did you say, ya midget!?"

As the skirmish reached a brief respite, Seris remained fixated on Zephyr, who adjusted its stance and stepped back from Holos. Pluto, attuned to the subtle shifts in the battlefield, sensed impending peril, her instincts screaming for readiness.

Silence fell over the group as Zephyr suddenly kneeled, and beside it, a vast, dark portal swirled into existence. The ominous gateway exuded a power that was palpable, resonating with an intensity that felt simultaneously like everything and nothing. The group watched, tensely swallowing their apprehension as the portal pulsated with dark energy.

From the portal, a leg emerged, setting foot on the ground with a force that made the world quiver as though it were trying to scream out in fear. Slowly, the rest of the figure followed, revealing a man whose presence was wrapped in a cloak of darkness, his eyes blazing with a blend of purple and black hues that radiated an eerie luminescence.

The man's gaze swept over the group, his aura of black miasma swirling around him, the runes on his jet-black armor barely visible beneath the flowing robes that adorned him. Despite the terrifying power he wielded, his expression conveyed not arrogance but a deep, unnerving curiosity.

As he assessed the group, Zephyr melted away into his shadows, becoming one with the darkness that the mysterious figure controlled. The air around them thickened with tension, the palpable fear nearly overwhelming, as if they stood in the presence of a force as daunting as IX itself.

The man continued to observe them calmly, his interest evident yet his intentions unclear, leaving the group in a state of wary anticipation, unsure of what his next move might be.

---

The forest, a silent witness to the impending clash, bristled with tension as the oppressive presence of Artorias saturated the air, his eyes locking onto Seris with a gaze that seemed to transcend the mortal coil. Seris felt an overwhelming pressure, as if her very soul was under siege by his otherworldly scrutiny, leaving her breathless and unsettled.

The group around her felt similarly stifled, as if a blade hung perilously close to their throats, poised to sever life with the slightest provocation. They stood frozen, their faces etched with fear, unable to utter a word or flee from the daunting figure before them.

Artorias, however, soon broke the silence with a dismissive shake of his head. "No... No, you aren't her," he muttered, his voice a low rumble that resonated with the shadowy essence emanating from him. With a sweeping gesture, he unleashed a wave of oppressive darkness that enveloped the surrounding woods, shrouding everything in a palpable gloom.

At that moment, the tension was abruptly pierced by the appearance of a broken mirror fragment floating between the two parties. From its fractured depths emerged a figure that seemed to embody hope and defiance—a warrior woman with a pale complexion and silver-white hair that cascaded around her shoulders, glowing faintly in the dim light.

Her armor was a masterpiece of craftsmanship, combining elegance with functionality. Adorned with gold filigree and intricate designs, it spoke of her high status or perhaps a ceremonial role. Ornate golden pauldrons guarded her shoulders, each piece detailed with symbolic etchings that enhanced her regal bearing. Her attire was completed by a flowing cape with a red interior, symbolizing a fierce nobility.

The warrior's presence was further accentuated by various accessories, including chains and pendants that added layers to her formidable persona. Faint, intricate tattoos marked her visible skin, suggesting an ancient power coursing through her veins.

The sword she wielded was as striking as the warrior herself—a long, straight blade that gleamed with a metallic brilliance, its craftsmanship unparalleled. The ornate gold embellishments on the hilt echoed the patterns on her armor, while the complex guard indicated a rank or lineage of significant importance. The dark leather-wrapped handle ensured a firm grip, making the sword not only a lethal weapon but also a symbol of her martial prowess.

It was Vahn, now with hair of pure white and an aura that rivaled even that of Artorias. She faced him with steely determination, her eyes sharp and unyielding.

"You have some nerve sending your Shadow Knight to us, huh?" Vahn challenged, her voice cutting through the heavy air with a clarity that matched the tension of their standoff.

Artorias responded with a slight smile, unsheathing his greatsword, which contrasted starkly against the surrounding darkness. "Thanks to you, I didn't get the chance to see through my knight's eyes. Though, that goes to show that you are different in power here."

Indeed, amidst the chaos, Artorias had dispatched another knight, Siluria, to a different location—a realm filled with deceit and illusions, further complicating the unfolding drama.

Vahn smirked slightly at his acknowledgment. "Flattery won't get you anywhere. Now, why not enjoy a bit of swordsmanship? I have been itching to fight someone that is more or less at my level."

She assumed a formidable stance of a Battle God, her aura bursting forth in a brilliant display that illuminated the dark forest. Her power was a beacon, potentially signaling allies or foes alike.

Artorias matched her intensity, the shadows around him coalescing to form a barrier, minimizing the spread of her aura beyond their immediate vicinity. He fully brandished the High Abyss, his greatsword poised to clash with the very essence of her being.

"You aren't the only one in need of a 'spar'," he declared, his voice low and even.

Vahn's eyes sparkled with a mixture of seriousness and anticipation. "Daring, are we?"

Artorias readied himself, his posture perfect as he prepared to engage. "No, I'm just beginning our warm-up."

With a mutual understanding of the stakes, the two charged at each other, their swords slicing through the air and cleanly cutting the trees around them, setting the stage for a battle that would undoubtedly reshape the fabric of their world.

End of Chapter