Before the overwhelming darkness of the 999th floor, Elena's stamina and magical power were almost completely depleted. Her white garments are soiled, the hand gripping her holy sword trembles, and an unconcealable impatience seeps into her blue eyes. With no escape route and no reinforcements, in this desperate situation, she musters the last of her strength and bares her fangs alone.

Between her ragged breaths, fragmented murmurs escape Elena's lips.

Glaring at the overwhelming despair closing in, she tightens her trembling grip on the holy sword.