She is not an investigator.

Soon, Felina noticed Constantine as he returned to normal.

Facing the unanimous gaze of everyone, he took a deep breath and walked out of the crowd, his face pale.

"How about... you do a magic trick?"

"Constantine?"

Constantine looked at Igris and gave her a strangely tragic smile.

But Igris saw more in it.

That was madness, joy.

"you…"

"Let's count down together—!"

He walked towards those pale outlines, as if shrouded in shadow, and passed through them without hindrance.

His steps were slow, but each step felt exceptionally heavy.

He walked toward the angels, toward the god who stood in the church, a god who should not exist there.

And it opened its mouth.

"one!"

Countdown? Can't he just count it in his head?

puff-

A burst of blood erupted from his body in an instant, and in just a moment, his arm was forcibly torn off by an invisible force.

But he didn't scream, he didn't wail, and he didn't even feel any pain.

He was looking at those things, at those self-proclaimed holy angels, at that… manufactured god.

He is laughing.

He was laughing hysterically.

"Aha—Ahahahahahahahaha—!"

Blood ignited his madness, accompanied by shadows that surged forth like a waterfall, instantly engulfing all the paleness.

Against this pure white backdrop, his blood, his shadows, his madness, and his life completely and utterly cover it.

The painting was splattered with ink, and those colorless things were swallowed up by the darkness almost without resistance and disappeared into the world.

The shadows will not stop; they will continue to spread and advance, gnawing at all that feeds on his blood.

The decaying angels were bound by their legs, and dark shadows climbed onto their bodies, gouging out their eyes and breaking their wings.

At this moment, right now, here.

Constantine, standing there, no longer represented himself.

He is the agent of God, the sole inheritor of the Church of Eternal Night, he is…

He is the night.

"Hahaha—hahahahahahaha!"

The solemn church descended into complete chaos. The stirring piano music became disordered, and the angels accompanying the figure struggled to escape from the shadows.

But what greeted them was a barrage of bullets.

"Don't just stand there!"

The short rifle fire accurately struck the struggling angels, drowning them one by one in the shadows.

As Anfer's call faded, Igris's figure flew out like an arrow.

In that area shrouded in darkness, on the ground where that fellow stood.

The blade in Igris's hand also began to emit a bright light.

An invisible repulsive force began to appear around her, trying to prevent her from getting closer.

But shadows are everywhere.

They abandoned the crippled angel and charged toward the being that was trying to stop Igris from getting closer.

But soon, they found themselves unable to move an inch again.

They could not get close to that place, to the god who did not want to approach them.

He resists the malice of this world, so they cannot get close, and therefore they cannot harm Him.

This is the rule, and an unchangeable fact.

but,

but.

The rules won't apply to her.

Beyond time, beyond space, beyond dimension.

She exists outside the rules; she is the protagonist who transcends the rules.

Her past roars, her future cries out.

And the sword in her hand can cut through everything.

Including the rules that bind her.

Whoosh—!

The sound of the mirror shattering rang out, and in that instant, the invisible wall was completely destroyed.

Igris's figure swiftly approached the indescribable being, her sword thrusting repeatedly into the nothingness itself.

She missed, but she didn't need to.

She was not attacking the god himself, but rather His rules, His authority, and the one who wrote His words and painted His works.

Thump thump thump—!

The piano music stopped abruptly, and pale snowflakes flashed past everyone's eyes again and again.

Collapse, ruin.

Everything in this world began to descend into chaos, and everything here became incomplete.

until.

it's dark.

The shadows engulfed everything, pressing down on His final place of submission.

The void continued to let the shadows flow away, even staining the area outside the frame with a blackness that did not belong to that world.

at last.

Igris's sword fell.

Its light went out, and it became ordinary, unlike its usual appearance.

He left, and no one knows where he went.

The colors disappeared, whether white or black.

Everyone put down their weapons and stood quietly in place.

Slowly, the shadow faded.

Constantine collapsed to the ground; his severed arm was gone, but the bleeding from the wound had quickly stopped.

He smiled, not a maniacal smile, not a smile of battle, but a smile of relief and warmth.

He did it, he really did it.

His life will not be forgotten, nor will it be a farce.

He looked at Igris, and then at the figure that was also looking at him.

"I did it..."

She smiled, and Igores smiled.

She smiled easily, but also looked exhausted.

But she still nodded to Constantine and, in a voice so weak it was almost inaudible, uttered the words Constantine had always dreamed of hearing.

"Congratulations, Father."

He finally, finally.

In his more than twenty years of life, there was finally one such time.

They did the right thing and succeeded.

And it was recognized.

Perhaps dying here wouldn't be such a big deal? Although he thought this way, it was just a thought.

He cannot die; he must live on, continue to live, continue to grow, symbolizing the Church of Eternal Night, symbolizing…the night.

"Ha ha…"

"He's injured like this, yet he's still smiling so happily."

Anfer helped Constantine up from the ground, and although he said this, he couldn't help but smile.

Looking at his only remaining arm, the veteran patted him hard on the shoulder.

Welcome back.

All the crises seemed to be resolved, until...

until--

The piano music started again.

The sky above began to shake, night, day, night, day.

The sun hangs in the night sky, and the moon rises at sunrise.