The Sanctuary of Sky is now completely destroyed. Blood-dripping fog and shards of black light cover the entire horizon. The land, water, and air can no longer be distinguished. Everywhere, there are only trembling shadows, unheard screams, and rivers flowing in reverse, carrying the remnants of human history into the abyss of time. In the chilling silence, there is no sound other than the stuttering breaths, as if the world itself is holding its pain.
At the top of the altar, which has become ruins, Joanna kneels with bloodied knees, her body a mere shadow of fire and remnants of light, but her spirit refuses to extinguish. Her breath comes heavy, accompanied by the sobs of a world that has lost its last hope. Yet, behind the tears and the feeling of destruction, she clings to the symbol of hope: the faint and gentle cry of a newborn baby, like the first tremor of life amidst absolute ruin. As that sound resonates, every fiber within her vibrates, feeling the gentle tremor that strives to resist the evil enveloping the world. "You are hope," she whispers to the baby, "in this darkness, you are the light that will never go out."
The air tenses, time seems to stop. From a crack in the sky, the body of Tiamat finally descends fully into the mortal world. The giant shadow covers the entire earth, its voidlight wings spread, wrapping the sunlight and extinguishing the stars. Each of its steps causes tremors, and on the surface of Tiamat's mosaic body, the faces of humans—those who have died and those who have yet to be born—scream silently, crying without sound. The wise whispers of souls trapped in the shadows awaken a sense of helplessness that seeps into the soul of every being beneath its shadow. In an instant, the darkness becomes so real, as if swallowing all hope and leaving only despair haunting every heartbeat.
Tiamat's five heads move wildly: — The snake head dances, its whispers filling human hearts with fear and unspoken confessions of sin, like a soft voice from the depths of night awakening buried fears within the soul. In the dark, every face that hears seems to drown in helplessness, as if tightly bound by knots of despair. — The thousand-eyed dragon head reveals the collective nightmares of every living being, allowing them to drown in despair. Each eye watching seems to express unbearable pain, as if giving a tangible form to the fears that have long been buried; a single gaze can shatter the hope of an entire soul. — The leviathan fish head spews red mist, evaporating all boundaries between life and death, until even angels and guardians cannot distinguish reality from illusion; in that mist, sweet memories vanish, like morning dew absorbed by sunlight. There, all meaning is erased into suffocating emptiness. — The wolf head howls long, swallowing the remaining light and turning shadows into real creatures that hunt the refugees. That sound is like thunder in dark clouds, echoing through the gloomy day, inducing heart attacks for every soul that runs, realizing that hope is sometimes just an illusion. — The woman head, the crown of a shattered world, shines dazzlingly, shedding tears of blood that soak the dragon's body. This weeping becomes a notation of profound sorrow, vibrating mountains, forests, and even the souls within the wombs of Iris and Nobuzan, reminding them of the sacrifices made to hope for a better future.
Tiamat's aura disrupts and destroys every remaining magic. Glyphs made with blood, love, or sacrifice begin to lose their meaning—leaving only empty scratches on the ground, like footprints left in the sand, swallowed by the waves. Mitsuyori, behind the remaining illusionary wall, trembles with helplessness and silent screams, shivering and crying, knowing that the protective layers she created are nearly devoured by Tiamat's fog. Within her, there is an overflowing sadness, like a river overflowing from its banks. Gabriel, bloodied, the only holy sword that can still hold back the dragon children from entering the altar, slowly turns to stone due to Tiamat's curse. He fights, not only for himself but for all the hopes that depend on him, in a strength that seems eroded by time.
Beneath the altar, Iris and Nobuzan take turns enduring pain. Their contractions are no longer just a process of birth, but also a battle between life and death, between their own will and that of the ancient dragon. Every second, they feel Tiamat trying to invade their minds—erasing identities, dissolving memories of Fitran, of love, of the world they once dreamed of. The pain is like a tsunami wave crashing against the shore, destroying all memories that once existed, leaving them adrift in a sea of uncertainty.
"We will not give up!" Iris screams, her voice trembling but full of determination. In Nobuzan's eyes, she sees the reflection of their struggle, as if their souls are holding onto each other, trying to resist the dark shadow that threatens. That moment is like a flash of lightning illuminating the pitch-black night, delivering hope even if only for a moment.
Joanna stands, her body ablaze—half Michael's fire, half Fitran's spiral, half human with wounds that never heal. She knows her time is running out, and the final decision must be made. Every second feels like a year, every breath she takes carries the weight of the world she wants to save. The power flowing within her is a battle between hope and despair, like two souls trapped in one body, struggling for control.
"I will not let you take them," Joanna whispers, her eyes meeting Tiamat's eyes that reflect all of human history. In that gaze, she sees emptiness, greed, and also an unspoken longing to erase all that has happened.
"If the world must fall, let it happen with me standing at the last gate."
She calls upon all the remaining power—Michael's light, Fitran's spiral, Sheena's incantations, and all the names of the Sanctuary's victims. Those words flow from her lips like water trapped in hard stone, unexpected yet immensely powerful. Behind her, the cry of the newborn baby grows louder, merging with the roars and cries of dragons, birthing a melody that touches the heart. Joanna gazes at the altar, at Mitsuyori, Gabriel, Iris, Nobuzan—all that remains. In her eyes, there is a resolute determination and also a longing to give everything for a future yet to be born.
"Give birth to hope, even if the world has died. Do not let the dragon take your names."
Tiamat lifts its giant body to the sky. Thousands of hands on the dragon's tail move wildly, trying to reach the altar and the wombs of the mothers, like a monster that has been struck by an arrow, grasping for something it can no longer reach. The Mist of Genesis Ruin floods the last city, separating Joanna from the altar, creating a wall of time and space that even light cannot penetrate, like a shackle that ensnares the remaining souls in despair.
The voice of the dragon fills the world: "I AM THE BEGINNING AND THE END. NO CHILD IS BORN WITHOUT WOUNDS. GIVE YOUR NAME, GIVE YOUR BLOOD." That voice echoes, pounding the hearts of those who listen, as if inviting the listeners to count every heartbeat as a bridge between life and death.
And at that moment, dawn never comes, as if the sky too takes Tiamat's side, preventing a single ray from piercing the darkness. Joanna's heart trembles, caught between hope and chaos, knowing that every choice carries unforeseen consequences.
The Sanctuary world holds its breath, waiting for Joanna's final decision—will she sacrifice herself, or will there be something even Tiamat never anticipated: the birth of hope amidst destruction, like a flower growing among the ruins of war? In an instant, all souls in the Sanctuary seem to feel the shift of the wind, hope and fear blending in tension, creating an emotional symphony that haunts every second of their lives.