The one retrieved from The Void

Jason finally broke the silence, his voice low and tense. "Didn't you say Vas wasn't bonded to a god?"

"As far as I knew," Carmilla stammered, her voice trembling with disbelief, "he wasn't."

Yuu turned sharply to Lily, her gaze intense. "You're the closest to him. What the hell is this? What aren't you telling us?"

Lily's face darkened, her voice steady but tinged with unease. "I can't talk about it."

The Negotiator's frustration boiled after such a statement. "What do you mean you can't talk about it? Is it because of an Amrita Pact? We can make another one to bypass it—"

"It's not an Amrita Pact," Lily cut in sharply. Her voice carried a weight that silenced Jason mid-sentence. "Amrita itself won't let me speak about it."

Carmilla's head snapped toward her. "What?" she asked, her voice rising with disbelief. "What does that even mean?"

Lily hesitated for a moment, then sighed, her words slow and deliberate. "Do you know about the Principle of Veils?"

"No," Carmilla said, her voice quieting as the weight of Lily's words settled over her.

"The Principle of Veils states that some knowledge is forbidden—not just hidden, but intrinsically impossible to share unless Amrita permits it. The knowledge of Vas's bonded god, his abilities, and the nature of his powers are shrouded by such a veil. Even if I wanted to tell you, I physically couldn't. My words would fail. My mind would falter. It's not a matter of will but of cosmic law."

Carmilla stared at her, a chill creeping into her voice. "You're saying… even trying to explain it would be impossible?"

Lily nodded grimly. "Yes. Unless Amrita allows the veil to lift, no one can speak of it. Not me, not anyone."

Everyone exchanged uneasy glances, the enormity of Lily's revelation sinking in like a lead weight.

Meanwhile, Vas stood at the center of the chaos, his wounds gone, his expression unshaken. The relentless assault of The Rose's creations seemed almost trivial to him now. He walked through the storm of attacks, his steps steady, his gaze fixed on his target.

To those watching, Vas was no longer a man. He was an enigma. A monster. A force that defied understanding. Whatever truth lay behind his impossible power, one thing was certain: The Rose had vastly underestimated him.

"He's dodging," The Cobalt observed, his voice steady but carrying an undertone of unease. "Not completely, just enough so that the wounds he gets are superficial."

"What?" Ken asked, his tone skeptical. "It sure doesn't look like that."

"It's subtle," The Cobalt insisted. His eyes narrowed as he focused on Vas's movements. "I'm not sure how he's doing it, but he moves just enough to avoid the worst of each hit, only to return to his original position immediately after."

Yuu cut in, her voice sharp with curiosity. "Why would he do that?"

"To put mental pressure on her," The Cobalt said, his words laced with grim admiration. "He must have realized he can't win outright. The Rose is stronger, more experienced, and has a wider range of abilities. So instead, he's leaning into the psychological toll—manipulating the image of himself as something untouchable. He's trying to unravel her confidence."

The Negotiator let out a low whistle, a faint smile playing at the edges of his lips. "I always knew the kid was scary," he said, shaking his head. "But this? This is something else. This is terrifying."

Then, Vas did something that left everyone speechless. He didn't charge forward or retreat. Instead, he began walking across the room in a seemingly erratic, deliberate pattern, one blade dragging behind him, its edge scraping against the floor with an ominous metallic screech.

The Rose's composure cracked further with each step. Frustration twisted her expression, but beneath that was something far more primal—fear. She had faced countless opponents, some of them legendary, yet none had felt as inexplicable as this child before her. There was no discernible rhythm to his movements, no apparent strategy. It was as though he was toying with her, unraveling her sanity one step at a time.

And worse, he didn't look like he was suffering. Not from her attacks, not from the effort. It was unbearable.

Occasionally, Vas would make a sudden, precise movement, cutting down a cluster of roses. The swiftness of the motion, followed by his immediate return to that haunting pattern, only deepened the sense of unease. To the onlookers, it seemed as though Vas was purposefully making the fight harder on himself, like a predator prolonging its hunt for sport.

"He's… bored?" Ken whispered, barely audible.

In truth, Vas was anything but. Each cut, each movement, was calculated. The strain of continually using Audron's power to heal his injuries was beginning to show. He could feel it—the fraying connection, the weight it placed on her. He couldn't sustain this much longer. He needed another way, and he needed it fast.

The truth was, his movements weren't random. Every step, every drag of his blade, was carving out an enormous sigil across the room. It was an intricate, desperate gamble. He couldn't overpower The Rose directly, but if he could finish the sigil in time, he might just turn the tide. Twenty seconds. That's how much longer he estimated Audron could hold on. He quickened his pace ever so slightly, every second bringing him closer to completion.

The tension in the room was suffocating.

"I think this is all," Vas said suddenly, his voice cold and detached, cutting through the silence like a blade. "I'll admit it—I can't defeat you."

"What?" Lily's voice was a shrill cry of disbelief. "What do you mean?"

"Relax, Lily," Vas replied, his tone calm but with a faint undercurrent of weariness. "I can't defeat her in a frontal confrontation, but I have a way to incapacitate her."

"What do you mean?" The Rose shouted, her voice trembling, a mix of anger and fear.

Vas turned to her, his eyes glowing faintly, as if reflecting some unfathomable inner light. Slowly, deliberately, he raised his hands, forming a precise mudra.

"Anima and Amrita are far more complex than simple brute force," he said. As he spoke, a profound green light began to flood the room, illuminating the intricate sigil he had drawn. The light twisted and pulsed, forming an otherworldly symbol that seemed to pulse with life itself.

The roses summoned by The Rose began to wither and disintegrate, their demise accompanied by faint, eerie screams.

"The Vice used sigils too," Vas said, his voice unwavering, even as the light grew blinding. "But he was… unimaginative. He never understood the basics. Let me show you all what proper sigils can do."

The green light intensified, pressing down on everyone in the room like an invisible weight. The air grew thick, heavy with power. Even the strongest among them felt their knees weaken under the oppressive force.

Then came a deafening sound—a sharp, resonating boom that seemed to shake the very foundations of the building.

"They breached the fourth floor?" The Negotiator shouted over the chaos, his voice tinged with alarm.

"No!" The Rose screamed, her panic evident. Her hands trembled as she clutched at her sides, her voice rising to a near-hysterical pitch. "They said it would take longer for that to happen!"

If The Rose was right, the explosion wasn't the result of external forces. It was Vas's sigil. Something had gone wrong.

The ground beneath them rumbled violently as an earthquake rippled through the Nu Prison.

"What's happening now?" The Warden demanded, bracing himself against a nearby wall, still shaken from his recent encounter.

In the main building, chaos erupted as students and teachers scrambled to make sense of the tremors.

"What the hell are they doing?!" Aura exclaimed, her voice breaking with panic.

"No idea," Pach replied, his eyes darting toward the collapsing structure in the distance. "But I hope they're safe."

The main plaza began to collapse, the once-sturdy floors crumbling in a deafening cascade. One by one, the third, fourth, and fifth floors gave way, falling in on themselves like a house of cards.

Vas and The Rose were among the first to plummet as the third floor collapsed beneath them.

A strange light began to surge from the depths of Nu, flickering and pulsating like a living entity. It was an unnatural mix of yellow and black, twisting together in chaotic spirals that seemed to gnaw at the very fabric of reality. From this grotesque illumination, a mist rose—a thick, white vapor that swirled and coiled, blanketing the air like a shroud. The mist's purity stood in eerie contrast to the diseased light beneath it, amplifying the dread that seeped into the hearts of all who looked on.

The beam of light tore through Nu with a relentless, destructive force. It carved its way upward, ripping apart levels with deafening cracks. Stone and steel gave way as if they were mere paper. The light didn't stop, smashing through the prison's main floor and then piercing the dome above, shattering it like brittle glass. Shards rained down, the fragments glinting briefly in the cursed glow before being swallowed by the mist.

A violent quake roared through the prison, shaking it to its foundations. Debris exploded outward, hurling twisted fragments of cells, beams, and stone into the air. The once-orderly structure of Nu was obliterated, its sterile symmetry consumed by chaos. The cells—cold, confining spaces that had held countless prisoners—were torn loose from their moorings, sent spinning into the void. Some collided with the surging mist, disintegrating as they were enveloped, while others embedded themselves into newly forming walls like grotesque ornaments.

And then, the true transformation began.