Seiya Wears Gold — The Day Athena Never Gave the Order
The stars are vanishing from Tokyo's sky, one by one, and Seiya knows exactly what that means.
Broken, bleeding, with less than five percent of his Cosmo left after the Poseidon Sea Battle, he should be resting. Saori herself gave the order: no more fighting. But orders mean nothing when Yomotsu Hirasaka has cracked open and 108 Specters are pouring into the Sanctuary with only three Gold Saints left to stand against them.
No summons has come. No permission has been granted. Athena has not giv
Seiya Wears Gold — The Day Athena Never Gave the Order - The Wailing Wall — Come Back, With Just Those Words
Shura's footsteps receded into the distance.
One step, then another. The sound of stone tiles underfoot grew steadily fainter.
Seiya couldn't move. His bloodied fists rested on the cold rock floor. His knees were shaking. The radiance of the Gold Cloth had all but faded. The golden light Saga had risked his life to pass on was slowly dimming.
Shura's words spun around and around in his head.
—Signum can't move. Saga is gone. It's all your fault.
Every word was true. Not a single one was wrong.
Seiya clenched his back teeth. His bloodstains remained on the black surface of the Wailing Wall. He'd hammered it with everything he had, and it hadn't taken a single scratch. Not even a crack.
(What am I even...)
The thought couldn't finish.
Because—
From deep within the darkness, a voice came.
"...Seiya."
It was a quiet voice. Not a command. Not an order, not a directive from Athena. Just—a voice calling his name.
Seiya raised his head.
The darkness of the Underworld stretched on, unchanged. The speaker was nowhere to be seen. But he had heard it, clearly. Kido Saori's voice had crossed the walls of this dimension to reach him.
Far away, in the Sanctuary of Greece—combining the Graad Foundation's communication equipment with a Cosmo amplifier to punch a hole through the dimensional barrier. Seiya understood immediately that Saori had pulled off something that reckless.
"Come home."
Just three words.
That was all. Not a command. Not a duty, not an order for the Holy War. Just the words of one person.
Shura's footsteps stopped.
Deep in Seiya's chest, the flame of Cosmo that had been on the verge of dying—flickered, just barely.
And that flicker called something forth.
A night at the orphanage surfaced in his mind. A dark room. A cold floor. Himself, back then, sitting with his knees pulled to his chest. The wish to become stronger—it hadn't come from someone telling him to. It hadn't come from being ordered. It was a wish that had welled up from inside him.
Next came Saga's face. That gentle smile. "Come back alive," he'd said, before vanishing into the light. Those words weren't a command. They were one man's feelings, poured out with everything he had.
And—the warmth of Signum's hand.
With her bones broken, her trembling fingers had gripped his arm again, that sensation. The face that had squeezed out the words, "I believed in your will, and I chased after it." Blood had been seeping. She'd been in pain. And still, she hadn't let go.
When he'd laid her down behind the rubble, Signum's lips had moved. No sound came out. But he could read them. —Go.
Shura's logic was no match for the warmth of that hand.
"—Hh."
Something burst.
*Thump.*
Deep in his chest, Cosmo pulsed. Once. Then again. The rhythm was coming back. The flame that had been fading stopped wavering—and blazed up.
The Gold Cloth began to shine.
The tarnished gold reclaimed its brilliance in an instant. From within it, a white light bled outward. Seiya's blood, soaked into the Pegasus Cloth—blood from wounds piled up long before the Poseidon battle, from even earlier—was reacting inside the Gold Cloth. The silver of Pegasus and the gold of Gold mingled, and a light of a color he'd never seen poured out.
The two Cloths were connected.
The density of his Cosmo had changed. This was fundamentally different from the Seventh Sense he'd felt before. The world seemed to slow. Every movement was visible, as if held in his hand. He could see the flow of air. He could see the paths of the Thanatos waves.
The Eighth Sense—the domain beyond the Seventh Sense, past the boundary of life and death.
"...So this is it."
His voice came out. His own voice, and it wasn't shaking.
Shura had turned around. On that stone face—for the first time, there was surprise.
Seiya stood.
His bones creaked. His right arm screamed. And still, his feet were planted firmly on the ground. He re-gripped his fist. Blood seeped out, but it didn't matter.
He looked at the Wailing Wall.
"Only one thing to do."
He took his stance.
*Dodododododo!!*
The instant the first blow struck the wall—a crack formed.
A thin line ran across the jet-black surface. On a wall that had taken dozens of hits without a single scratch, a crack had formed. Seiya could see Shura's eyes go wide.
He didn't stop.
Second strike. Fifth. Tenth.
The cracks spread. Fissures raced. The entire wall began to tremble.
Twentieth. Fiftieth.
"Pegasus Ryu Sei Ken—!!"
Seventieth. Hundredth—!!
*Zudoooooon!!!!*
The shockwave filled the stone chamber. Dust billowed up. The ground shook. The roar echoed through the entire Underworld—
And the Wailing Wall crumbled.
The greatest bulwark of the Underworld, which even the Gold Saints couldn't scratch, shattered. Massive black boulders crashed down to the floor with thunderous booms—*doon, doon, doon*. Dust spread. Beyond it, a dark passage opened its mouth.
The path to Hades's throne room.
Silence fell.
As the dust settled, Shura just stared at where the wall had been. He said nothing. Seiya understood—the words simply wouldn't come.
Seiya didn't turn around. He let out a breath.
That's when something fell from above.
*Bonk.*
"Ow—"
A small chunk of rock hit Seiya square on the head. Debris from the collapsed wall. As Seiya clutched his head and staggered—Shura, expressionless, began slicing through the rubble with arms as sharp as blades, one piece after another, with precise efficiency. Clearing the path, knocking aside the obstructing stones.
"Don't move. You're in the way."
"I'm not in the way—the rocks are falling on me!"
Shura was already cutting the next boulder. Not listening at all.
Seiya watched that back for a while. The man who, moments ago, had been trying to drag him back to the Sanctuary was now clearing a path for him. Saying nothing, just working in silence.
What a stubborn guy. But—
He could laugh. In a situation like this, he could laugh a little.
Shura finished carving out the path. The passage was open. From deeper within, the concentration of Thanatos waves rose. The Gold Cloth held them back, maintaining its brilliance. But it was only a matter of time. The price of wearing it—for anyone other than a Gold Saint—was piling up from the core of his bones.
Seiya took a step toward the passage.
He turned around.
Shura stood there in silence, his stone face unchanged. He didn't say anything. But—he hadn't left. The man who had condemned Seiya's will as self-satisfaction was now standing behind him.
No words were needed.
Seiya nodded.
Shura gave a slight nod back.
That was enough.
Seiya ran into the passage.
The darkness deepened. The concentration of Thanatos waves spiked. The Gold Cloth groaned. His body was heavy. But his legs moved. His Cosmo was burning. Saga's Cosmo and his own mingled, keeping this body moving.
He felt like the warmth of Signum's hand was still on his arm.
(Wait for me. I'm definitely coming back.)
The words didn't leave his lips.
Ahead in the passage, he saw light. A dark light. A pale, death-colored light. The throne room of Hades, Lord of the Underworld—its entrance.
Seiya picked up speed.
He forced the door open. A massive obsidian door creaked open.
A circular hall fifty meters in diameter. No ceiling. In its place, an eternal darkness spread. At the center, an obsidian throne.
And there, a man sat.
Pale skin. Long jet-black hair. Deep purple eyes looked at Seiya.
He was only sitting, and yet the density of the space itself changed. Thanatos waves—death energy—poured from this man. The Gold Cloth let out a groan near its limit.
"...You've come."
It was a quiet voice. Devoid of emotion. Just a tone that confirmed a fact.
Seiya took his stance.
With his battered body, with his nearly depleted Cosmo, he still looked straight at the Lord of the Underworld.
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