Jackal stood frozen.
With bleak clarity, she realized that every scheme she had devised had been seen through at a glance.
Every "victory" she thought she had won had merely been a calculated retreat in his eyes.
She believed it was her plot that lured Otto here.
In truth, he had only played along.
She thought that wielding the Seven Thunders of Retribution would kill him.
In reality, he had deliberately drawn it out.
The killing trap she had so carefully crafted—what she believed to be inescapable—had been dismantled effortlessly.
And perhaps…
Perhaps Otto had never truly been "forced offstage" at all.
Even Cecilia's terrifying outburst of power might have been within his calculations.
Haha.
The polite bows, the composed humility she had displayed—had they seemed like nothing more than pitiful theatrics to him?
Had he been laughing inwardly at her performance? At the way she pretended to be a gracious victor while her triumph was practically spilling from her expression?
Looking at Otto now, Jackal suddenly felt a deep, powerless sorrow.
As if she were standing on a circus stage, her face painted in gaudy reds, yellows, and whites.
She had strained to draw his attention—reciting famous scripts clumsily, exaggerating the gestures of great figures, tossing precious props about to appear amusing.
She had believed these sacrifices necessary, imagining that afterward she would rise as a blood-soaked artist, stepping elegantly into the highest hall upon the spilled blood of a god.
But in the end—
The god stood unscathed, offering her a few perfunctory claps after she had exhausted herself.
A clown.
Yes.
In his eyes, she was nothing but a clown.
"Hahahaha—haha—ghk!"
Rage and humiliation surged within her. Blood crept into her pupils—
Then her voice caught in her throat.
She looked up.
Otto was holding a cross aloft, sunlight gleaming off its surface.
The Eleventh Divine Key—
Oath of Judah.
"Don't tell me," Otto said lightly, "you still think you have enough value for me to grant you time for a counterattack?"
—
"When the curtain falls, the ending turned out rather well."
Otto murmured soundlessly as Valkyries bound Jackal.
"The plot… entirely within my grasp."
He looked at the locomotive-shaped Second Divine Key—Cosmic Juggernaut—then tossed the sling-form Seven Thunders of Retribution into the air and caught it, a faint smile forming.
This had been the first storyline he personally guided.
Honkai Impact 3rd manga—London Holiday arc.
In the original comic, World Serpent had used the Second Divine Key, Cosmic Juggernaut, as bait in the autumn of 2015. With the Third Divine Key, Seven Thunders of Retribution, they destroyed one of Otto's soulium bodies.
That was why he had come to London.
To advance the timeline—
And step willingly into a trap he already knew existed.
Of course, following the plot wasn't nostalgia.
Cosmic Juggernaut's location had been clearly recorded in the source material.
The reason he adjusted events slightly was because of Bianka's earlier encounter.
She had met Raven in London.
And she had seen a weapon that made her uneasy.
Clearly—
The Third Divine Key.
If so… why not walk a short stretch of the script and claim everything he wanted?
Three days of "vacation" in London had served two purposes: deepening his bond with Cecilia, and making himself visible enough to tempt World Serpent into launching an assassination attempt like in the manga.
Performing before Jackal and fabricating scripture had been to stall for time—allowing Schicksal to evacuate civilians and deploy heavy weaponry to breach spatial barriers.
Allowing himself to be shot by Raven had confirmed her position, enabling the seizure of Seven Thunders of Retribution.
Using two bodies had allowed Void Archives to awaken in the alternate vessel—leaving Amber as a visible safeguard.
Letting Rita care for the youthful clone had exploited her fondness for cute things, ensuring Void Archives would not strike prematurely or set an ambush.
Meeting Void Archives alone while weakened had been deliberate—granting her a chance to rebel, luring the wolf to devour the tiger while imprinting deeper control upon her cognitive pathways.
Releasing Kevin's puppet despite knowing Jackal still had reinforcements had forced Cecilia to unlock her potential, eliminate a troublesome enemy, and then—at the height of her exhaustion and surrounded by a beast tide—descend like a hero in a rescue.
Even organizing the entire outing—
On the surface, to help Cecilia recover her memories.
In secret, to bait World Serpent.
But fundamentally—
To keep Amber, Rita, and the others fully occupied with hunting World Serpent, minimizing their time to think, dulling any suspicion of the differences between him and the original Otto, and controlling the narrative from a macro perspective.
Once the dust settled and they had interacted enough—
The boundary between him and the original would blur in their cognition.
Piece by piece.
Scene by scene.
Everything had moved forward in orderly fashion under his calculations.
He stood above it all, expressionless, reading each variable and placing every useful factor into the play.
Even if that factor—
Was himself.
He did not consider himself a genius.
Nor did he believe manipulating plot and human nature was something worthy of praise.
But he had maximized every advantage available—from Schicksal's resources to knowledge from his previous life.
Two Divine Keys secured.
A major World Serpent base captured.
Void Archives deterred.
Cecilia restored.
Along with countless ancillary benefits.
It was enough to satisfy him.
And he did not fear being exposed as the architect of it all.
Who would suspect that a simple trip between Otto and Cecilia was bait for an organization Schicksal barely understood?
Who would know that Void Archives constantly plotted regicide?
Who would know that striking Cosmic Juggernaut would release Kevin's puppet?
A truly skilled director ensures the actors never realize they are following a script.
A brilliant play requires passionate performers.
Everything must seem born from their own hearts.
Everything must appear changeable by their own hands.
The protagonists and villains alike sing their self-moving arias, mistaking a narrow stage for life's grand journey.
And he—
He simply watched.
From beyond the square frame.
Fingers lifting, tugging invisible strings, guiding the plot toward his desired ending.
They were not puppets.
But what need be a puppet to be manipulated?
These charming actors could not see the strings.
Nor detect his hand.
They would be swept along by the story, screaming in despair at its ending—
Calling it fate.
Fate.
He did not mind weaving such a thing.
"Congratulations, Overseer," Rita stepped forward with a graceful bow, presenting a long case insulated against Honkai energy. "You have secured two Divine Keys and stabilized all fronts."
"No, Rita."
Otto's thoughts returned to the present. He shook his head as he placed Seven Thunders of Retribution into the case.
"Human infighting before the Honkai is not worthy of praise."
His fingers curled slightly, as though drawing the next set of invisible strings.
Rita hesitated, unsure how to respond.
Then Otto spoke again—
And this time, his voice carried a joy unlike any before.
"But I accept your congratulations—not because of World Serpent."
He looked toward the silver-haired woman, undisguised affection in his eyes.
"But because we have welcomed back Schicksal's Saint."
"My dear little sister has regained her memories and returned."
Thirteen years ago, he had said:
"I will not abandon your soul to the underworld, nor let your sacred body see decay."
"I kept that promise."
He met Cecilia's gaze.
"So—Cecilia."
"Welcome home."
She looked at the golden-haired man, her expression dazed.
Thirteen years.
Her memories had once been fragmented.
Without his protection, her life would have ended upon the Siberian snowfields.
But now—
Her memories had returned.
Cecilia had truly come back.
Amid a battlefield littered with spoils and victory, he had declared that her homecoming was the greatest triumph of all.
Welcome home.
The Saint's heart skipped a beat.
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