Somewhere far from the mansion, far from the sleeping god and the servant sharpening his betrayal, a woman with hair the color of deep amethyst stood at the edge of the void, staring into it as though it owed her an answer. Her eyes — twin points of starlight, purple and endless — didn't blink. A black veil hid the lower half of her face, but nothing could hide the tension coiled in her shoulders.
Behind her, close enough to feel the cold radiating off her sister's silence, stood a white-haired woman, a green veil doing the same quiet work of concealment.
"Sister," the purple-haired woman said without turning. "Is it true?"
"Yes." The white-haired woman's voice was flat, worn smooth by old anger. "That bastard still refuses to fight. Again."
"Mmmh."
"This time, it's not good."
The purple-haired woman's jaw tightened, though her eyes never left the void. "Is Loita's reincarnation by his side?"
"Yes. And he's just as heartless as ever."
"And the other two?"
"Those idiots let their reincarnated bodies get destroyed." The white-haired woman's fists curled at her sides. "Their souls were nearly devoured completely — if he hadn't stepped in and saved the fragments, they'd be gone entirely. But of course, he didn't bother reforming them. Didn't nurture them at all. *Hateful.*"
"And you know what makes it worse?" she went on, bitterness sharpening every word. "That bastard wants to raise some genius from scratch and simply *hand us over* to him. Like we're inheritance. Like we're furniture."
"Sister," the white-haired woman said, gentler now, though something calculating flickered behind her eyes, "maybe this is for the best."
*Snort.*
"Look who's talking." The purple-haired woman finally turned, one eyebrow arched sharp as a blade. "I know exactly what you're planning — keeping that bastard all to yourself. Only a fool would believe your innocent act."
"...Okay, okay." No real denial in it.
"Where are the other two?"
"Given up, probably."
"And you actually believe that?"
"No," the white-haired woman said immediately, almost offended by the question. "Only an idiot would believe that."
A pause settled between them — comfortable, familiar, the kind two people build only after fighting the same war for a very long time.
"Do you think," the white-haired woman asked, softer now, almost dreaming, "there'll ever come a day when all eight flowers stand together again? Fighting side by side?"
The purple-haired woman glanced at her sideways, and for just a moment, her eyes flared with violet light.
"There will be seven more sisters added. Fifteen of us, total, moving out of this forbidden chaos zone and into the true starry cosmic sky."
"Will *he* change?"
"No." No hesitation there. "But that milk cow plans to seal all his memories for a while — give him a chance to start fresh. But—"
"But what?"
"See for yourself." She reached up, touched two fingers to her own forehead, and let a stream of memory pass between them.
The white-haired woman's expression shifted through disbelief, then something colder. "*What?* When did she get so vicious? We should be careful around her from now on."
"That milk cow knows exactly how to handle that bastard," the purple-haired woman said, something like grudging admiration in her voice. "I support the plan. I just don't understand why she wants to drag seven *more* women into it."
"Haven't you noticed?"
"Noticed what?"
The white-haired woman gave her a long, withering look — the exact look one gives an idiot who has somehow, against all odds, missed the obvious.
The purple-haired woman's face went red with fury. "Why can't you just *say* it instead of giving me that look?"
"Think about it. He wants to give us away to someone else entirely. So why *not* add more women to the pile while he's at it?"
A beat. Then a laugh burst out of her, sharp and disbelieving. "Hahaha — the milk cow really is furious, isn't she. But honestly, why don't we just find someone who actually *wants* us instead?"
The white-haired woman turned fully around, expression suddenly serious, and the purple-haired woman turned back to the void alongside her, the humor draining from both their faces at once.
"So he can't even die in peace," the purple-haired woman murmured. "Is that it?"
"Who knows," her sister said quietly. "He *is* their son, after all."
"How many chaos circles has it been?"
"Millions."
"His fate—"
"Don't." The word came out fast, cutting her off before she could finish.
The white-haired woman sighed, long and heavy, and let her gaze drift back out into the endless dark.
"Husband," she whispered, so quietly it barely disturbed the silence. "I'm waiting for you. Come back soon."
Beside her, the purple-haired woman shook her head slowly, staring into the same void.
"Why did I ever fall for that bastard." A pause. "...But I'm waiting too."
---
Elsewhere, a woman with hair like flame stood alone on a cliff's edge, watching the same starry sky from a different angle entirely. She sighed once, soft and resigned, and then simply vanished, leaving nothing behind but the echo of her voice.
"Darling, you're certainly bold. I almost feel sorry for you." A note of dark amusement colored her words. "If that big-breasted woman hadn't already stepped in, I would have handled this myself. How exactly am I supposed to become *someone else's wife?*"
The voice lingered in the empty air even after she was gone.
---
Elsewhere still, a woman with hair the color of deep ocean blue stood draped in a royal gown of gold and violet, her waist-length hair catching starlight that had no business being that flattering. Her beauty wasn't just otherworldly — it was *weaponized*, dangerous in a way that had nothing to do with strength and everything to do with the fact that her own fiancé fled from her like she was a natural disaster given human form.
"Darling," she murmured to no one, to the void, to the man who wasn't there to hear her, "before making a plan this dangerous, you might have thought to ask your wife first."
Her expression darkened, fury simmering just beneath the elegance.
"I'll make you regret this. Who plans to just *leave* without telling any of us first?"
She exhaled slowly, composing herself. "You can fool big sister — she hasn't recovered all her memories yet, poor thing. But can't you tell she's already gotten *some* of them back? What a hopeless husband you are."
She drifted forward through the void, then stopped abruptly, staring at nothing in particular with the sharp focus of someone who had just solved a puzzle.
"What a clever bastard," she said, almost admiring it. "How does someone manage to be brilliant and idiotic in the exact same breath? So *this* is where you hid the Void Realm." A faint, knowing smile. "Clever husband. Your wives have been searching everywhere for this. I hope the others have moved on by now... though I doubt it. Especially that stubborn, loud-mouthed purple parrot."
She snorted softly and slipped straight into the Void Realm — no alarms, no resistance, no protective mechanism so much as flickering in response.
"...Oh. What is *this?*"
Whatever she'd expected to find, it clearly wasn't this.
---
"Ancestor, there's a problem," Durken's voice came through, low and urgent, into the mirror.
"What is it now," the voice on the other side snapped, impatience already thick in every syllable.
"The Fay — she's locked inside the system."
A pause. Then, brightening slightly: "That's actually good news. We take the girl, we take the system with her. Wait — did you say it's also holding *that thing*? From the couple?"
"Yes, Ancestor. Master merged them together himself."
"*That* is a serious problem." The voice's tone snapped cold. "We were counting on getting *three* of those separately. What has your idiot master gone and done?" A furious hiss followed.
Durken lowered his eyes. "Ancestor, the real issue is — Master already sent the system out. To find its host."
"He did *what?* Let me check."
A long, muttering silence stretched from the mirror.
"...Don't worry," the voice said at last, calmer now, colder. "It's still trapped within the confined space. Even if they've hidden themselves well, we have time — deal with your master first, and we'll handle the rest after. You may go."
"Yes, Ancestor."
---
Durken stepped back into the room.
"Master. Are you awake?"
...
"What is it now," Novaah answered, and there was something wrong in his voice — thin, stretched, weaker than any mortal had a right to hear from a being like him. He genuinely couldn't understand it. His fake origin sat perfectly intact, untouched, exactly as he'd built it. So why was his mana bleeding out of him? His qi? His energy — all of it just *draining*, thread by thread, like sand through a fist he couldn't quite close.
"Master, could you help me find the princess?"
"That's going to be difficult now," Novaah murmured, eyes half-lidded with exhaustion he didn't fully understand. "They've already left for the starry realm."
"Not quite, Master."
"...What do you mean?"
"This space is sealed. Confined. Anything below prime being rank can't pass through it."
Novaah's eyes snapped open, sharper than they'd been in a while. "What? I didn't set up any confinement here."
"No," Durken said, and something in his voice had shifted — quiet, steady, almost gentle. "I did."
"...Why?"
"You'll find out soon enough. Consider it a surprise, Master." A small, strange smile touched his lips. "Today marks our anniversary, you know. Almost a full chaos circle since you took me in."
"...Alright. Give me a moment." Novaah let his eyes drift shut, sinking back toward sleep — and that was when he felt it.
Something sharp. Something cold. Driving straight through his chest and into the place where his heart should have been.
His eyes flew open.
Durken stood over him, both hands wrapped around the hilt of a blade buried to the guard in his master's chest.
"Durken." Novaah's voice came out steady, almost bewildered. "Why are you doing this?"
Blood — golden, streaked through with violet, utterly unlike anything mortal — spilled from the corner of his mouth and welled from the wound beneath the blade.
"Master. Are you surprised?"
"Yeah." Novaah actually laughed, faint and breathless, the sound landing like a slap across the room. "This is genuinely surprising."
The casual honesty of it stunned everyone watching — including two women who weren't supposed to be watching at all.
"You can't just accept dying like it's *nothing!*" Loita's voice cracked with disbelief inside the pyramid.
*(...So Master already knew this was coming.)*
*("Of course this bastard prepared for it. And he still thinks I haven't recovered some of my old memories. No wonder he's been so desperate to push us all away — marry us off to this so-called 'chosen one' instead.")*
*(Big sis... who was he to you? Before all this?)*
*("...My husband.")*
*(WHAT?!)*
*("Don't worry, little one. I swear it — we'll make sure you marry the chosen one too, as long as he's male.")*
*("Since he's so insistent we marry his precious host," the voice continued, edged with steel, "then fine. We'll marry the chosen one. All of us.")*
*(Big sis... are you sure about this?)*
*("I have never been more certain of anything in my entire existence.")*
*(So... should we go look for the chosen one now?)*
*("'Look for' him? Little Luna, are you actually blind? He's right here.")*
*(Wait — are you serious? Durken is the host?)*
*("Little Luna. Look again. Carefully. Is there really no one else standing in that room?")*
*(...You cannot possibly be serious.)*
*("Novaah Chaos is a bastard," the voice said, venom threading through every word. "He wants to slip away quietly, dump his wives on some stranger, and abandon every burden he's ever carried, all so he can rest easy. What exactly do you think we are to him? Spare furniture?")*
*("Did he really think he could just run? Over our dead bodies. He's lucky those twins are in the state they're in, or he'd be weeping blood by now.")*
*(...)*
*("Just saying.")*
*(Do you... have other sisters?)*
*("Seven of them. But given how he treats us — like he can't stand the thought of one more girl — I've decided to add three more to the family. You included, little Luna.")*
*(No. Absolutely not. I won't do it.)*
*("That's not really your decision to make.")*
*(You can't force me into this!)*
*("No — and it won't be me forcing you, either. I can feel one of my sisters getting close. She's on her way here right now.")*
---
"Durken. Your master really is brave," a new voice said, smooth and amused, as an impossibly beautiful young man stepped into view out of nowhere. "Facing death without so much as flinching."
"Young Master Chaos." Durken's grip tightened around the blade still lodged in his master's chest. "It's been a long time. And, well — I suppose this will be the last time, won't it." A humorless smile crossed his face. "A sad little moment for two childhood friends."
"I do wonder," the young master said, laughing openly now, "how his dear family will feel — learning their precious young master died at the hands of his most trusted servant. His *best friend*, no less."
"Young Master, we should move quickly," said an old man standing just behind him, voice low with urgency. "I can sense an aura approaching. It has to be one of the fiancées."
"Then let's not waste time." The young master's eyes gleamed. "Take his soul. Take his origin. Now."
He drew a small vial from his sleeve and pressed it into Durken's hand. Durken, without hesitation, tipped the liquid directly onto the wound in Novaah's chest.
The moment it touched flesh, everything changed.
Skin and muscle dissolved into pale, drifting light, peeling away layer by layer to reveal what lay beneath — a slow pulse of golden-violet blood, a small sphere as black as the deepest void, and, floating just above it all, fragile and utterly exposed, a soul rendered fully transparent for the first time in millions of chaos circles.