Muse and Mordred led half the force to hold off the Beast, while Snow and Cindy took the rest to clear the thorny roots blocking their path. “They keep growing back!” Cindy panicked. Sleeping Beauty roared, and the piled corpses twitched to life, dragging mangled limbs to surround Mordred and Muse. “Don’t be afraid! Sleeping Beauty thrives on its prey’s fear!” Snow shouted from afar. Muse took a deep breath, steadying herself, and pressed the fight. Mordred charged fearlessly, beheading the shambling dead.


    “MORDRED!!”


    Thorny roots shot toward his back, but Muse raised her shield just in time—losing an arm in the process. “You okay!?” Mordred asked, voice tinged with guilt. “Fine—still fighting,” Muse grinned. The remaining Knights swiftly dealt with the corpses, encircling the Beast. “The path’s almost clear!” Cindy reported. “Go with them,” Muse said, kicking Mordred toward the stairs. Stunned, he understood—if no one stayed, none would advance.


    Snow’s group moved on, but the roots kept sprouting. “Mind if I join you?” a familiar voice made Muse turn. Lune, drenched in blood, wounds regenerating, grinned.


    “Finished the gate crew?” Muse asked, gripping her shield.


    “Nope—too many, so I ran up here,” Lune bared her fangs in a cheeky smile.


    “Back at Battlefield No. 11, I faced something like this. You’re bringing back memories,” Muse returned a grin.


    “Handle the warriors for you guys—Lune and I’ll take this wretch,” Lune sneered at Sleeping Beauty, spitting on the ground. “Round two!”


    The Knights retreated toward the stairs, ready to intercept the spectral warriors. Lune and Muse flanked the Beast, striking simultaneously. Muse leapt, aiming her shield downward, but roots pierced her from behind, shattering her into pieces. Sleeping Beauty’s twisted face smirked—briefly. Muse reappeared from Lune’s illusion, slamming her shield into its face; the broken form was a decoy. Lune split into clones—shadows of her and Muse danced around, bewildering the Beast. Its roots lashed out chaotically, shredding illusions. “Buy me some time!” Muse fell back, focusing her consciousness as if summoning something. Lune charged in, illusions swirling. Outside, the Knights held off the past’s phantoms but were pushed back by sheer numbers. Time dragged on, their resistance seeming futile—until a black shape crashed through the wall, towering amid the dust.


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    “I’ve always wanted to pilot this thing,” Muse’s voice rang from DEATH RIDER5. “Lucky me—this is Babel Corp’s HQ. CAVALRY’S HERE!!”


    Morale surged; the Knights rallied. Metal clashed, guns blazed, shouts mingled with roars. Sleeping Beauty’s roots struck relentlessly; DEATH RIDER5’s cannon swept the battlefield. The clash echoed so far that Snow’s group on floor 40 could hear it.


    “They’re still holding,” Mordred sighed, his sword dripping with Harpy blood—low-tier Beasts with bird bodies and human heads.


    “Babel’s HQ is being renovated; the top’s floor 74 now. Kira might be there—why’d the elevator break now!?” Cindy grumbled.


    “We’re over halfway, but I’m still worried…” Snow faltered, hands clenched.


    “Don’t be. Even if we fail here, we’re still victors,” Cindy patted her shoulder. “They’ll tell tales of us—stupid, reckless creations who dared defy the Reaper!”


    “Exactly,” Mordred added. “We’ll never be forgotten.”


    They pressed to floor 59, Beasts lunging as if to devour them, corpses and blood piling high. Outside, a white shadow soared closer, its razor feathers shattering glass. Branwen appeared—Serah’s face replaced by a wretched victim’s head.


    “Careful! Branwen’s power—”


    “Birdbrain—flying in here with nowhere to maneuver. Mordred, take Snow—go!” Cindy adjusted her glasses, THE SHIEL2’s red glow encasing her.


    Mordred pulled Snow upward. “Don’t look back—don’t let their efforts be in vain,” he said. Snow nodded, resolve in her eyes. As they left, Harpies joined Branwen; Cindy and the Knights faced the Beasts.


    “My turf now,” Cindy smirked. Metal orbs floated outside—6EEKERS’ barrels spun, firing in unison. Harpies screeched in agony. Ambushed, Branwen faltered. Cindy led the charge, forming a pincer. “Hold them as long as we can!” she yelled. “KNIGHTS OF TREACHERY!! CHARGE!!”


    “Will Cindy be okay? She’s not combat-grade,” Snow fretted.


    “Every piece of gear we have—she made it,” Mordred replied. “By human terms, she’s a genius. She upgraded her frame long ago—don’t worry.”


    Snow and Mordred climbed the tower, blood-soaked from the bodies they’d crossed. “One floor left,” Mordred said. Suddenly, stakes—like those that tortured Serah—shot toward him. He parried with his sword. A dark figure emerged, silver spear in hand, the Gremlin grinning behind.


    “My creation, hasn’t your time run out?”


    “Soon—after I end you.”


    Arthur shed his black cloak. Mordred readied himself, sword aimed at his foe. “Step back, Snow,” he said calmly. “This fight’s mine alone.”