When the blue dawn of Joanna dimmed in the gray sky, the world seemed to hold its breath, waiting for the first person to utter the word "mercy"—a word that no longer held meaning on this battlefield. Dust and remnants of blood still clung to every wall of the altar, and in the midst of it, Nobuzan and Iris sat cross-legged, their shoulders leaning against each other, staring blankly at the small flames that remained.
"Will we be remembered?" Iris asked, her voice barely audible, as if afraid her words would disturb the tranquility enveloping them.
"We will be remembered," Nobuzan replied, though doubt crept between her words. "Whether as heroes or traitors, that is no longer our concern."
Mitsuyori Aketsu, who was nearly losing consciousness from exhausting illusion magic, whispered to Nobuzan, "I have deceived the world into believing Iris is dead… But the world is not foolish forever. Today, our names have been mortgaged—not for victory, but for time that is nearly up."
Nobuzan looked at Mitsuyori with the last flicker of fire in her eyes, "Our names have indeed been sold. But it is better for the world to hate us than to forget. It is better for us to be remembered as traitors than to never have a name at the end of history."
At the altar, Iris wrote her child's name on the stone floor with her own blood, her fingers trembling. "I do not want the world to forgive or understand. I only want this one name to endure, even if all others vanish."
However, behind the altar walls, the seeds of betrayal began to grow. Some of the remaining protectors, desperate and nearly losing hope, started whispering new plans—surrendering Joanna or the two mothers to the Earth forces for the sake of survival and amnesty.
"We cannot continue like this," whispered one of the protectors, his face filled with fear. "We must survive, by any means necessary."
Erisa—before ultimately falling—had already warned Iris: "Do not trust anyone tonight, not even those you once considered brothers. Names have turned into poison."
One of the protectors, feeling betrayed by the world, tried to leave the altar carrying a glyph signal for Earth. However, before he could betray them, Mitsuyori, half-conscious, wrapped the corridor in illusion mist, misdirecting the protector's steps until he became trapped in his own glyph circle.
Joanna descended from the sky, her eyes now shining with Michael's fire, her hair swirling in the air like blue flames. "Anyone who intends to sell this name will vanish with the darkness. Tonight, the world will not forgive traitors, and I will not allow a single name to be used to carve a new history for Earth!"
With a single wave of her hand, the blue fire glyph swept through the traitor's corridor, erasing their traces, names, and voices from the world. For Joanna, betrayal was not just a sin, but a disease that must be burned away completely.
In the sky, the Seven Heavenly Angels gathered in the ruins of the northern tower of Thirtos. They, who had once united under Michael's banner, were now beginning to waver. Raphael, the healer, stood before the angels, his eyes filled with doubt.
"Joanna… you carry blood that the sky cannot accept. You inherit Michael's will, but also Fitran's sin. If you choose this rejected name of the world, we can no longer follow you."
Uriel, the war angel, shouted, "The fate of the world has cursed the name, blood, and womb of the two mothers. Why do you insist on preserving something that history has decided to erase?"
Joanna looked at them, the fire in her eyes blazing. "Because I know what it feels like to be a name that is never forgiven. Because I know the price of a name that endures amidst hatred and curses."
Some angels bowed their heads, while others began to fly away, leaving Joanna in a circle of fire and rejection. "You will regret this," one of them whispered before disappearing into the darkness.
Meanwhile, at the Earth command center, King Ardaius and the Five Pillars performed the "Erasure of Name" magic ritual—a ancient spell to erase the identity of anyone deemed a threat to the world. The names Iris, Nobuzan, and even Joanna began to be etched into the glyph's blacklist.
General Valen recited the incantation, "These names are the roots of all destruction. Let the world forget them, let their blood vanish from every family tree."
One by one, the people in the cities of Earth were forbidden to speak those names. Books, monuments, and documents were destroyed. Those caught still praying for the two mothers or Joanna were taken to the fields and erased from the collective memory.
Underground, Mitsuyori felt an excruciating pain in his head—the illusions he had created began to collapse, as the world itself rejected the names he wanted to save. "What have we done?" he thought, regretting every decision that had brought him to this point.
Joanna, in the midst of the altar, felt a great tremor within herself. She knew—not just herself, but the world truly rejected these names. She screamed in Michael's language, "I reject the will of a world that only knows how to erase. As long as I live, these names will never truly disappear!"
With the blood of the protectors, she rewrote the names of Iris, Nobuzan, and even their children on the altar walls. The blue fire burned the stone, transforming the carvings into an eternal sigil—indelible by magic or hatred.
"This is our legacy," she said, her voice filled with determination. "These names will live forever."
The remaining paladins followed, carving their own names into the floor and walls, knowing they would physically vanish, but those names would continue to live within the eternal glyph created by Joanna that night.
In the blaze of fire, Joanna—as the new Michael—stood atop the altar, protecting the two remaining mothers of the world. She burned every enemy, every traitor, and even every angel who sought to erase the legacy of the old world.
"We will not vanish!" she cried, her voice echoing throughout the land. "We will become legends!"
But the world itself began to change. The ground trembled, the sky darkened, and the whispers of the ancients spread throughout the land: "The unforgiven name will never die. It only transforms—into disaster, into legend, into curse."
And that night, for the first time since the spiral war began, the entire world fell silent—no one dared to speak anyone's name, even in their last prayers.
"We will continue to fight," Joanna whispered to herself, "as long as there is one soul that remembers."
But Joanna knew, as long as her blood flowed, as long as the remaining protectors breathed, as long as the blue fire of the eternal glyph burned the altar, those unforgiven names would be the only legacy that no world could erase.