Within the blinding flash of magic and light, Liam's eyes widened.

The Vanaheim sky was drowned out by dull grey clouds. No... That wasn't the sky of Vanaheim. Liam knew, he understood he wasn't on Vanaheim. The smell of the air, the feel of the ground, and the brush of the wind. It was all different. This was home. This was Midgard.

Flakes of snow drizzled down from the sky, leaving the ground covered in the blanket of white. He slowly walked through a forest, surrounded by trees just like the ones on Vanaheim. No...

The trees on Vanaheim are just like the ones on Midgard, not the other way around. That's what he was thinking. But the singular thought of Vanaheim slipped his mind as soon as he noticed the grand wooden house before him.

In the distance, just a couple dozen meters away... A home stood. That's right. He was on Midgard. He was at his childhood home.

'That's right...' Liam thought to himself, swallowing his saliva.

Liam's footsteps became staggered.

He stared at the group of children, all of them huddled together as they sat on the porch of the wooden home. They sat there, in stillness and silence.

Until one of them noticed Liam. "Hey Liam!" the boy shouted. "You're back!" He stood up and waved from afar.

"Wait..." he mumbled, staring at the child. He must've been four years old, at the most. Tiny and smiling with joy at the sight of his brother. Exactly how Liam remembered him.

"Éric..." he mumbled, letting out a soft breath. The cold air turned his breath into pale mist. Liam paused. He was just on Vanaheim, wasn’t he? That question once again slipped his mind once he saw his brother once again.

"Wait, no," Liam said. "You guys aren't supposed to be here," he muttered, slowly walking closer.

"Just because Dad grounded us doesn't mean we can't be outside, right?" a girl said. Her eyes met Liam's from afar. Her skin was dark brown, just like her hair, just like the heavy shirt she wore in the snow. Still, she appeared to be no more than seven years old.

"No..." Liam muttered. He put his hand over his mouth as tears welled up in his eyes. "No..."

Liam swallowed his saliva. "Guys..." He stumbled forward, gradually getting faster and faster with each staggered step. He ran towards his siblings, tackling them all with a hug.

"I've missed you!" he cried out, tears dripping from his shut eyes. "All of you!" That was all he could say.

"Liam, are you okay?" another asked. She was the oldest out of the siblings, around ten or eleven years old. She grabbed Liam by the shoulders and gingerly separated him from the others, her eyes tinged with concern and confusion.

And just like that... Liam fell to his knees, crashing onto the light layer of snow. He let out an anguished howl. "I'm sorry!" he wailed, still clinging to each of them by their clothing. "I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!"

It was then that he noticed the sight of his arms. Liam stared at his hands. They were smaller, paler, softer. His hands weren't rough. They weren't cracked and calloused. His arms had no scars, no scabs.

Liam thought... No. He already knew. He was young. Just a child. Alive and happy. The troubles of his life had already slipped his mind. All that he could think about, all that he knew... was this.

Being with his family, being happy, and laughing. The life he remembered from so long ago. The life he wished he had. The life he experienced at that very moment.

It was just a matter of seconds before he appeared inside the house, inside the kitchen. Liam didn't recall any movements past him hugging his siblings. And yet... He was inside.

Just like the thoughts of Vanaheim, he forgot everything with the sight of his mother.

She stood alone, humming to herself in an attempt to drown out the sound of the bubbling of boiling water. And just like that, she dumped three whole diced carrots into the steaming pot beside her.

"Oh, hey, Liam," she said, now smiling as she turned to her son. "Where have you been?"

Liam swallowed his saliva. A sharp pain had already pierced his heart as she smiled at him. But that shape pain only urged him to get closer to her.

He closed the distance between them in an instant, wrapping his arms around her. She quickly laughed, saying, "I'm still holding a knife, Liam- Be careful."

Liam looked up. The smiling face of his mother was a sight he hadn't seen in so long. Too long.

"Go get your siblings," she said. "Lunch is almost ready, you should let them know. Although I do think I put too many carrots."

"Yeah, nobody likes carrots."

"Hey, carrots are good for you."

"Nobody cares."

It was then that they laughed in unison. Liam looked to the side, and turned away. "Wait, where's Dad?" he asked.

"At work," his mother responded. "You know how he is. He's saying we might have to move soon."

"Oh?" Liam asked. "Did he say where?"

She paused. "Um... North Africa. Algeria, I'm pretty sure."

This time, it was Liam who paused. He simply stood still, swallowing his dry saliva. "...Algeria?"

"Yep," she said with a smile. "You were born there, remember? Just like your father."

Still, Liam didn't respond. Standing in silence, he thought back on that word. A word he felt foreign, yet it burned deep within his chest.

"Oh..." he finally muttered. Liam covered his mouth with his hand, with tears quickly welling up in his eyes. "I... I have to go," he said.

"Huh?"

Liam left no time for a response and dashed through the door.

As soon as he burst past the door, as soon as his bare feet grazed the soft blanket of snow, he froze once again. Not out of confusion, but out of pain. The pain that seeped deep in his heart and his gut.

And once again... His younger siblings stood beside him.

"Liam?" Rose asked.

Liam slowly turned to them. His eyes were still welled up with tears. "I'm sorry," he said. That was all he could say.

He wrapped his arms around them all, holding them as he silently wept. Even through his stream of tears, he spoke. "I... I... I can't do this."

Liam finally let them go as they stared at him in confusion.

"What do you mean, Liam?"

He shook his head in silence. "This isn't real. It can't be." Liam took a single step backward. He gripped the side of his head and ruffled his hair as his breaths grew labored and ragged. "I can't do this," he repeated. "Not like this."

"This... isn't real. It can't be." He swallowed his saliva, getting back up from the grassy field. "This... This is just some cruel magic, isn't it?" he said, his voice, quivering. Tears dripped from his eyes again as he grit his teeth.

Liam clenched his fist and pounded it into his forehead. Again. And again. "This. Isn't. Real!" he yelled out, still crying, still hitting himself.

"This. Isn't. Real!" he cried out, hitting himself on his head. "Rose, age five. Éric, age four. Angela, age ten." He paused. "All of you... are dead. You all died a long time ago. I wish you didn't. I wish this was real," he muttered, choking up.

Once again, he held his siblings. But now... Now he was different. He was far taller than all of them. His arms were muscular and his hands were calloused. For his own sake, he pulled himself away. Rain had begun to drip down onto the ground as he separated himself.

No, not rain.

The clouds of snow had passed. What dropped to the ground were Liam's steady flow of tears as he took another staggered step backward. "I..." he spoke. "I really wish this was real. I really wish we could all be happy again. All of us. Together."

"But we can!" Angela cried out. "Don't you miss us?"

He froze at his sister's words. She held the hands of her younger siblings, just as she stared at Liam.

"I... I miss you more each day. But that doesn't change what happened." He clenched his jaw.

"Please, don't leave us alone again," Éric muttered. "Please, Liam. Not again."

Not again.

It took everything Liam had to collapse to his knees at that very moment. Everything he had to not run back at them. Everything he had to stay standing and to step back.

'This isn't real. It's not real. They're not real.' He recycled these thoughts in his head, slowly and steadily. Liam closed his fist. "This is all a lie. A cruel lie. A lie too good to be true."

'I want to stay here forever. I just want to stay here and head home.'

If this were real... 'Everyone would be happy now.' If this were real.

'But I've lost them already. I can't go back!' Liam turned, dashing into the forest as fast as he could.

"Liam, don't leave us behind!" Éric cried, his hand outreached, tears streaming down his face.

'Sorry, Éric. Sorry, Angela. Sorry, Rose. We can't be together anymore. Your big brother will always miss you. I'll always love all of you. I will never forget any of you. So please forgive me,' he thought, running past trees and striking branches to the side.

"I have to get out of here." He wiped the tears from his eyes as he ran, as he repeated to himself: "Rose Bernard, age five. Éric Bernard, age four. Angela Bernard, age ten. Liam Bernard, age eight."

'We all suffered that day. They died. We died. But I've had it with death. I'm not letting the Virtues die!'

Gabriel's eyes opened to the confusing sight and warm feeling of being hugged. Curly locks of golden hair stood before him. Just the sight, the simple image proved to him who it was.

The man hugging Gabriel was his father.

Just like Gabriel, he had icy blue eyes and blond hair.

He was dressed in a black vest that sat over a white shirt. His sleeves were rolled up. And just like his tie, his pants and shoes were pitch-black. Perfectly clean and smooth. That was who Nathaniel Archibald was, after all. Rigid and still.

And with just a second more, Nathaniel Archibald pulled himself away. "So..." he finally said, still holding Gabriel by his shoulders. "How was school, son?"

Gabriel stared at his father in confusion. "Huh?"

"Did you have a good day?"

"...Huh?"

Nathaniel tilted his head ever so slightly. "Are you feeling okay, Gabriel?" He pressed his hand against Gabriel's forehead.

"Hm," his father muttered. "Yeah, you don't have a fever. Dehydration, maybe? I wouldn't put it past you if-"

Gabriel smacked down his hand. "No." His voice was cold and stale, just as his jaw was clenched.

"Maybe this would've worked on Alexander or Leonard, but not me. I'm not an idiot. This isn't real." Despite the words coming out of his own mouth, Gabriel laughed. "The last thing that man would do is hug me."

Nathaniel still stood in confusion. "Gabriel, are-"

"Shut up already!" Gabriel shouted. The corners of his mouth had begun to arch up. "I already know this isn't real. No point in trying to continue this illusion or whatever this is."

He spat out a sigh, softly chuckling as he continued to stand before his father.

"This isn't you," Gabriel said to him. "This isn't real. I wish it was, I really do. You being like this would've been enough for me. It would be enough. But not anymore. And not like this. There's no point if this isn't real."

Gabriel turned away from his father. "I'm getting out of here. Somehow."

And at that same moment, Alonso Wolfram laughed to himself.

Alonso walked closer, approaching Alexander. "To think it would work on so many people," he muttered, admiring his own work within the seven semi-conscious Virtues.

His brothers stood just a couple meters away, hiding among the trees, waiting for Alonso to finish the job. "Hurry up," Matthias called. "If that group of Hunters decided to come back for these kids, we're down for."

"Yeah, I know, I know," Alonso muttered, reaching into his coat and pulling out a silver knife. "But it's nice to stare at your own work, though, even if it's just a moment. That's what I love about my magic. Through the mind, all things are possible. And right now... I'm showing them what they want. Their deepest desires and dreams... That's all they see right now. That's a peaceful death, don't you think?"

Matthias and Kafka didn't respond.

"Look at this kid, though," Alonso remarked, pointing at Alexander.

Alexander's fist was outreached, still hovering in the air. From the instant he sensed Alonso's presence, the Demon-Born attacked. 'Some serious willpower from this one, too,' Alonso noted. He smiled and slapped down Alexander's arm.

Kafka spat out a sigh. "Matthias. Let's go into town. If we find a boat now, we’ll be able to get to the crystal before anyone else. Including those white-clad assholes. We'll be waiting for you, Alonso," he said as he turned and began to walk away. Alonso stared at the retreating Kafka and back at his other brother.

"Oh, come on, I'll be done in just a bit."

Again, Kafka didn't respond and was soon out of view, already past and behind the thick trees of the woodland. Matthias grumbled to himself, before mumbling a weak "Sorry," at Alonso. And with that, he dashed after Kafka and soon disappeared as well.

This time, it was Alonso who spat out a sigh. "Well, whatever," he muttered. He brandished his blade as he stared at the 'dreaming' Alexander.

"You're clearly the most troublesome. And not just for me, but for my brothers. You get to go first." He cocked his arm backward and took in a sharp breath of preparation.

And with that, Alonso thrust out the blade into Alexander's gut.

But... Alexander's arm shot out once again and lifted Alonso by the throat. With the sudden pressure and movement, he dropped his knife. He grit his teeth, his feet dangling from the ground as Demon-Born lifted him.

Alonso winced, thinking, 'What the hell is this kid made of?!' He grasped Alexander's arm, loosening the grip that held his throat. Well, trying to, at least. The pressure of the grip wasn't enough to choke him, but the feeling of dread had already spread through his body.

Under normal circumstances, anyone placed under the'dream technique' cannot move their body. They enter the dream-like state induced by the spell. And so, their consciousness is completely cut off until the technique is deactivated. Or until they die.

Even though Alexander was already under Alonso's technique... Demon-Borns are incredibly sensitive to bloodthirst. Through this sensitivity, it's possible to break this effect. Alexander had moved when he was trapped with a power that shouldn't allow him to move. Not through feeling or will, but through instinct alone.

And now...

Alonso cannot move due to Alexander's grip on his body. Now, he has no means of killing the Demon-Born.

Alexander cannot move. His body is still dreaming, still under Alonso’s control. Yet even while unconscious, he has no reason to kill a human being.

The two of them are now caught in a deadlock.

'I'll show him his nightmares,' Alonso thought, still unable to break Alexander's grip. 'I'll make him suffer.'

After all, since Alonso couldn't do anything to hurt or damage Alexander physically, his mind was still vulnerable.

And so... Alexander's face grew twisted with anguish, just as his eyes remained shut and his jaw remained clenched.

It was then... that Alexander's mind grew shrouded in darkness. Images of death. Images of blood. Screams and cries of help and sorrow drowned out any other noise. And soon... All he could see was a path paved with corpses.

Alexander's eyes were shut, but still, he winced in pain. His breaths grew stifled and labored as his eyebrows furrowed. Even so, the grip on Alonso's neck didn't tighten. But through the continuing, surmounting pain in Alonso's body, he grew weaker. He was now struggling to uphold the technique he placed onto the seven.

Combined with Gabriel's immense willpower, the spell wore off. Gabriel nearly fell to his knees before he caught himself. In that split second where his body shut down, his mind was sharper than ever. He quickly grasped his surroundings, searching in desperation.

None of them had moved. Except for Alexander.

He held their attacker by his throat. Even so... his eyes were still shut.

Liam's eyes burst open immediately understood what was happening. He clenched his fist at the same time that Gabriel brandished his sword. And then... they moved forward.

Alonso forcibly swallowed his dry saliva and let go of Alexander's wrist, now wrapping his hand around the Demon-Born's throat. If he didn't get away from the Demon-Born's grip, his throat would collapse. If he didn't get away from the two that just woke up...

Well, Alonso already understood that the situations would all result in his death.

All he could do is hope the Demon-Born dies before any of that.

Still, with a blast of wind and a slight flash of light, Excalibur's silver blade slid through Alonso's wrist.

Each of the Virtues' minds buzzed with a sudden burst of pain, instantly dissipating, leaving them to fall to their knees. And that was it. All seven of the Virtues and their unknown attacker collapsed to the ground.

Alonso shrieked in anguish, bellowing from the top of his lungs, emptying himself in that gargantuan cry. Even from hundreds of feet away, Matthias gasped.

"That was Alonso, wasn't it?" he asked.

For a second or two, confusion was all there was. And within that confusion, the Virtues stared at the singular attacker, crying and bleeding onto the ground.

The two brothers dashed towards Alonso in an instant, keeping themselves behind the cover of darkness.

Kafka stood in shocked silence as they stared at their bleeding brother, making sure to keep his energy suppressed. Alonso gripped his severed wrist, whimpering and panting. Blood gushed from his stubbed arm and tears streamed from his face.

"Alonso!" his younger brother shouted, bursting from the forest and grabbing him by the back of his collar. "Get up, Alonso! We have to go! Kafka!" he called.

Alexander had fallen onto the dirt, gasping for air and clutching his heart.

He gagged and fluid spewed through his mouth. His entire body clenched in pain as more vomit pooled onto the ground before him.

His other hand was sprawled over the ground, grabbing at the dirt. He repeated the simple motion, dragging his fingers through the dirt and clenching his fist, his eyes still fixated on the dark ground.

Anastasia, Leonard and, Giovanna rushed to Alexander. And the others simply stood in confusion, including Gabriel and Liam.

"What's happening to him?!" Anastasia asked, sliding onto the ground beside Alexander.

"He's going into shock!" Giovanna shouted. "We have to get him out of here!"

It was then that the Virtues finally understood their surroundings. They all slowly looked up at their attackers.

None of them wanted to make the first move. Not even Kafka, who gripped his brother by his bleeding, severed appendage.

"Looks like we both have a man down..." Kafka muttered. "Maybe- Maybe it would be best if we just... leave each other alone." He took in a deep breath and sprinted into the cover of the forest.

"We can't let them get away!" Liam shouted. Gabriel already stepped forth, chasing after the trio.

For a second, he stopped, his feet skidding through the mud. "Giovanna! Stay here with Alexander! Help him. Everyone else! We have to capture these bastards! Each one of them is dangerous. Move!" Gabriel's orders rang out and the Virtues followed. Some of them without hesitation, and others with a second to think.

Giovanna grit her teeth in confusion. She had no idea how to help Alexander. His breaths were still shaky and panicked, his eyes were still wide and stained with an enraged fear. There was nothing she could do, except put her hand on his back and heal his physical wounds.

Still, Alexander slapped her hand down. "Go," he hoarsely mumbled.

"Huh?" she asked.

He slowly began to raise his head, his eyes now welled up with tears. His jaw was clenched and his fist was shut. He raspily repeated, "Go."

"But-"

"I'm fine," he interrupted. "There's three attackers. The best course of action is to split them up. But, still... You have to help the others. In any way you can. Understand?"

Giovanna swallowed her saliva. "But Gabriel-"

"Understand?!" he repeated, finally looking up at her.

Giovanna nodded her head, and dashed into the forest. And so, Alexander sat in the dirt, still panting and coughing. Alone and in silence.