The air quivered. The sigil on the altar flared, its light turning from an ashen gray to a blinding white. The ground beneath them cracked, spewing forth tendrils of black flame that writhed like living smoke.

Evelyr—Evelyn—exhaled, the amulet’s glow fading into her chest. The ash that had once clung to her hair fell away, scattering like dust in a gentle breeze. The night sky outside the shattered stained glass was no longer a tapestry of dread but a canvas of stars, each one a promise of a new dawn.

"You've peeled away six of my seven seals," it hissed. "But the last one is not a lock. It is a choice."

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It pointed a melting finger toward the horizon beyond the broken cathedral walls. There, an army of saints in tarnished armor marched under a blood-red banner.

Makoto, having fully accepted her role as the "Queen" or central figure of the Malignance, fights not for survival, but to secure a future for the girls who have been turned into weapons. The "Z-Particles" (or the virus energy) are at peak saturation.

Yukina cracked her neck. "Good. I was getting bored."