The night grew darker as the automaton Earth finally broke through the last magical barrier. In the secret corridor beneath the sanctuary, Mitsuyori—though nearly losing consciousness, her face wet with blood and sweat—forced herself to stand. She saw Erisa holding Iris, who was almost unconscious, the queen's body trembling on the brink of life and death. In the tumult of souls that seemed to be torn apart, Mitsuyori felt the weight of unspoken hope and pain, as if the world awaited an answer from the impending sacrifice.
"The time has come… I can no longer deceive the whole world, but I can still deceive death for a moment."
With the last of her strength, Mitsuyori drew an illusion glyph on the stone wall: the pink light from her hand flickered faintly, bending space, wrapping Erisa and Iris's bodies in a hazy mist. At the same time, she whispered a spell that opened a "shadow" path—a tunnel of illusion where reality folded, directly connecting to the ruins where Oda Nobuzan and Akiko were holding out. In that thrilling moment, she felt as if she had rediscovered the threads of fate that might weave a bond between two mothers separated by time and despair.
Amidst the pursuit of the automaton and the ruins of the sanctuary, Mitsuyori supported Iris with one hand, while Erisa helped guide the queen's body. Tears flowed from the corners of her eyes, marking the heaviness of this sacrifice. The sounds of alarms, fire, and the screams of pursuers echoed distorted—space and time seemed to be out of sync. She felt a cold wind blowing through her soul, whispering that love and sacrifice were the highest currency that could be exchanged in this battle.
In the dark corridor, Mitsuyori nearly collapsed, but her determination led her to the ancient stone door adorned with the Oda emblem: Each step she took felt like treading on the shadows of the past, heavy with unspoken memories and hopes. The sound of her heartbeat grew louder in her ears, as if reminding her of the immense burden she bore—not only for herself but also for Iris and all those fighting in this darkness.
"This… is the secret door of the Oda clan. Behind it… Nobuzan is still alive. Trust Iris to her, Erisa. I… I can't go any further…"
Erisa held back her tears, nodded slowly, then helped Mitsuyori knock on the door according to the secret pattern passed down from previous generations of protectors. With each knock, it was as if they were calling forth the buried hope, a prayer to the souls of the spirits protecting them, even in their fallen state. As if the stone door was not just a physical barrier, but also a barrier between life and death—between a separated family and lost hope.
The stone door slowly opened, revealing a dimly lit room that was almost empty, only illuminated by a small lantern. Nobuzan, though her body was weak and her face pale, immediately stood up upon seeing Erisa dragging Iris inside. Her anxious gaze was fixed on the pale face of the queen, and in her heart, a surge of longing and pain swelled, like waves embracing the shore in an unbreakable storm. Her heart, like a mother, trembled every time she saw her child lying helpless.
Akiko, loyal by Nobuzan's side, helped lower Iris's body onto a straw pallet, quickly examining her wounds and staunching the bleeding. In that moment, the recesses of their souls seemed to unite in sorrow; every scratch on Iris was part of the sacrifice they bore, and they knew, in the silence of motherhood, that fate often tempted with unspoken words, full of risks and bitter decisions.
Mitsuyori smiled wearily at Nobuzan,
"I… could only bring her this far. Hide them, finish what needs to be done. The world outside… no longer knows wonder."
Nobuzan looked at Mitsuyori with tear-filled eyes, nodding deeply, feeling the same burden. In her heart's embrace, she gathered hope for peace, and the flow of affection between them flowed like a river that would never run dry. Every second felt more precious than gold, and they knew that the spirit of sacrifice etched in the history of the Oda family would never fade away.
"Your deeds will live on in the name of Oda and Gaia… Even though the world has rejected us."
Mitsuyori finally fell against the wall, breathless, gazing at the two lines of blood that now united at the edge of the old world. She felt an unbearable weight, as if every tear of this world poured into the emptiness surrounding her. In the suffocating silence, she remembered the promise she always held, a promise to protect the future even if all hope lay buried in the shadows of death.
As the sounds of explosions and screams faded into the distance, in the silence of that basement, Iris and Nobuzan for the first time looked at each other as fellow mothers betrayed by history—not as a queen and an enemy, but as two last humans embracing the remnants of the world's hope. In their gaze, trapped in the bitter reality that they, once adversaries, were now bound in similar sorrow. As if time carved the same wounds in their souls, tightly grasping the unshakeable strength of motherhood.
Erisa and Akiko closed the secret door, holding their breath. Outside, the automaton Earth ransacked the sanctuary, searching for traces that had already vanished in the mist of illusion. In the terrifying silence, they exchanged glances, full of understanding that every passing second was time shortening the path to losing everything they loved. Every heartbeat seemed to form a tragic poem amidst the darkness, transforming into a trembling hope even at the edge of annihilation.
Mitsuyori, in half-consciousness, whispered softly:
"As long as this flame endures… the world has not yet fully lost."
And for one long night, beneath the ruins of the sanctuary, wonder and sacrifice found their meaning again—not on the altar that burned, but in the weak hands that continued to hold each other. In every grasp, they found the strength to overcome trials, a bond that reminded them that even though the world was ensnared in darkness, love and hope could never be extinguished. Like stars hidden behind dark clouds, their spirits continued to shine, creating a path for future generations to find their way amidst the crisis that engulfed them.
In the dim basement room, illuminated by the small lantern's light.
Iris: —leaning against the stone wall, her breath heavy, her body still trembling from pain and fatigue— "…I never imagined we would meet like this, Nobuzan. Not on the battlefield, nor on the throne… but in a hiding place that even light dares not enter."
Nobuzan: —holding her wound at her side, sitting cross-legged near Iris, her gaze sharp but now much more human than before— "The world chooses to hate our wombs, Iris. They fear something that has yet to be born, and choose to burn everything rather than wait for uncertain answers."
Iris: "Do you regret it, Nobuzan? All of this… the sacrifice, the blood, and the honor that ultimately leads to such darkness?"
Nobuzan: —smiling bitterly, looking at the stone floor stained with old blood— "I do not regret. If the price to pay is all the blood of Oda, as long as my name is recorded as a mother who fought against the world, I will pay until the last drop. But I regret one thing…"
Iris: "…What is that?"
Between them, a painful silence enveloped, as if time itself felt the weight of their suffering. Every second felt like a heavy burden pressing down, as if every breath carried the unspoken despair. Iris felt her heart shatter; love and longing united in a fiery dance full of sorrow. Something within her trembled, responding to the weak voice that whispered, "Is all of this worth it?"
The smell of blood filled the air in the isolation room, as if singing a song of sorrow for every soul that had sacrificed itself. She looked at Nobuzan's face, seeing not just a warrior but also a mother, who endured unimaginable sacrifices. In Nobuzan's gaze, Iris saw the shadows of children never born, smiling in hope even as the blanket of darkness enveloped them.
With trembling hands, Iris reached for Nobuzan's hand, touching her cold skin, desiring a promise. "We are not alone," she said in a hoarse voice. "In every drop of blood, we plant hope. And that hope, though hidden in the shadows, will hold us."
Nobuzan: "That we, the mothers, are always victims of history. That our strength is always used as a reason for fear and slaughter. Yet… all we want is a little space to dream, a little time to love our children before they are judged by the world."
Iris: —tears flowing slowly, her voice trembling— "I… I am tired of being a tool, of being a symbol. Sometimes I just want to… be an ordinary woman, who can cry without feeling weak."
In the suffocating silence, Iris's soft voice trembled like a fine thread stretched in the wind. Every word she spoke was a prohibition against falling, even though her heart quivered. She longed for the times when laughter and dreams did not have to be measured by the weight of responsibility.
Nobuzan: —extending her hand, grasping Iris's hand, warm yet trembling— "In this room, there are no queens. There are no enemies. There are only two remaining mothers. If I die tomorrow, I want you to know: I do not hate you. I do not hate Gaia. I only hate the world that never gave us a chance to choose our own path."
In their intertwined fingers, there was warmth that strengthened each other, as if reminding them that amidst the darkness, hope could still grow. That bond was a declaration of courage, a promise in sorrow that they were not alone.
Iris: —smiling through tears— "If tomorrow only leaves one of us, I want it to be you who survives. You are stronger than me, Nobuzan. The world still needs your anger and determination."
As that smile blossomed, fear began to gnaw at Iris. She knew how fragile life was, how thin the line was between courage and despair. In her mind, the shadows of children she had never seen loomed, and the feeling of betrayal by the world seemed to overshadow her every day.
Nobuzan: —shaking her head slowly, her voice firm yet soft— "No, Iris. The world has been led by anger for too long. Perhaps… the last hope of the world lies in the gentleness you possess. I… I envy your strength to continue loving, even after all this hatred."
Nobuzan: —shaking her head slowly, her voice firm yet soft— "No, Iris. The world has been led by anger for too long. Perhaps… the last hope of the world lies in the gentleness you possess. I… I envy your strength to continue loving, even after all this hatred." In the dimness of this room, every word walked like slow steps on broken glass, conveying how fragile the remaining hope was. Tension flowed between them, like moonlight trying to pierce through dark clouds, only to find two souls struggling against the tide of hatred. The rustling sounds outside became the backdrop for their conversation, emphasizing how the world outside seemed to bet on their courage.
Iris: "What if… no one survives? If the world truly rejects us?" Once again, her eyes sparkled like dew in the morning, trying to reveal beauty even as it was erased by sorrow. Every word from Iris felt like a drop of water falling on the surface of disappointed hopes, creating ripples deeper than they appeared. In reflecting on all the dark possibilities, Iris felt it like a storm raging over the ocean of her heart, demanding her to endure even as part of her soul seemed to have already sunk.
Nobuzan: —looking straight into Iris's eyes— "Then the world deserves to fall. If our children are never given the chance to be born, let the world die with us. But… as long as we still breathe, I will not give up." Her voice flowed with conviction, as if a spark of fire was trying to reignite in the darkness of the night. In those words, there was a promise prepared with determination and sacrifice, like a final plea in the midst of darkness. She could feel the burden in her heart, like a heavy stone that had to be lifted for the sake of pure and unconditional love.
Iris: —gripping Nobuzan's hand tighter, trying to smile even though her face was pale— "I will too. Even if the whole world hunts for this womb, I will protect that hope until the end." It was as if at that moment, her hand was a shield that would protect the small light they could still hold; hope waiting to be born in a world filled with fear. In every heartbeat, Iris felt the pulse of life unite, a symphony that would be sung by future generations if they could see the light. Despite the challenging reality, there was strength in their conviction to fight against the terrifying world.
Nobuzan: "…Then, if our child survives—do you believe they can change the world?" Her hope soared in the air, mingling between hope and worry, as if waiting for an answer that would guide them out of the dark shadows. In her mind, the image of the future was etched, as if presented by the light stored in their hearts. Tears were suffocating but could not erase the firmness of her heart, and in that silence, she allowed her hope to build a bridge between her dreams and reality.
Iris: —thinking for a moment, then nodding slowly— "I believe. Because they are born from choice, not from fear. And if they must fight someday, at least they know that these two mothers once struggled not for a throne or honor, but for a love that the world itself cannot understand." At that moment, the awakening of the buried spirit ignited within Iris. It was as if every word that slipped from her lips was a seed of hope planted with love, reminding them of the importance of identity and the true meaning of existence. In their hearts, love was the greatest responsibility and a secret that should not be shared with the world, but must be passed on to future generations.
—
In the quiet corner of the basement, the two mothers held hands. For a moment, there was no war, no history—only two hearts trying to survive the hatred of the universe. Looking into each other's eyes, there were thousands of unspoken words, woven in silence. Only feelings could express how deep the pain they carried was, a pain born from their love for the children fighting for a better life.
In the dim light illuminating their faces, every scar on their skin became a silent witness to the sacrifices they had made. Sweat and tears, spills of hope and fear, all united in the tight embrace they would never let go. "We will protect them," whispered one of the mothers, her voice trembling like a gentle wind delivering good news amidst the storm. Their clasped hands strengthened every promise spoken, like the roots of a tree penetrating the earth to find the source of life amidst the darkness.
Outside the room, the sound of bomb explosions echoed, serving as a backdrop for their story. Yet in their hearts, there was a desire greater than fear—a desire to nurture the flame of love that might burn away all hatred. As the outside world plunged into chaos, these two mothers fought to create an oasis in the barren desert, where two loving hearts could grow and thrive, even while facing all the obstacles that stood in their way.