Under the full moon, at the edge of Lake Starbind, the Mirror Maiden with silken gauze and jade-like skin hovered lightly in midair. She gazed at the mangled and terrifying form of “Gossmore,” pierced all over by countless blood-needles, and gently replied to the lifeless words emerging from that ruined face.
“My situation may be tricky, but I have ways of handling it. I’m not entirely without strength. This land revered me for a thousand years. The traces I’ve left behind won’t vanish so easily. As long as the timing is right, I can still glimpse the night of Pritt again.”
The Mirror Maiden slowly answered “Gossmore” this way. Hearing her words, “Gossmore” let out a cold chuckle, then continued speaking slowly.
“Hah… I underestimated you, Selene. I didn’t expect you to have such a powerful trump card left on this side. I admit it, this round is your win…”
As she said this, a dangerous glint surfaced in the once-wooden gaze of “Gossmore.”
“But this isn’t over. I will reclaim everything that should have been mine…”
With those final words, Gossmore’s body began to collapse, disintegrating into strands of blood mist that dispersed into the air, growing thinner until they vanished completely.
Watching “Gossmore” vanish entirely, the Mirror Maiden paused slightly, then looked around her. With silver eyes, she took in the surrounding scenery, and a peculiar emotion flickered across her gaze before she softly sighed.
“Sigh…”
After restoring the Mirror Moon Cathedral to its rightful place, the Mirror Maiden turned her attention to her hands. She held up her crystal-clear hands, gently brushing them, then focused on the ring with a crescent moon motif adorning one of her fingers.
Just as she was looking at the ring, a sudden change occurred. Subtle distortions appeared on the Mirror Maiden’s body—her figure began to blur and fade. Seeing this, she furrowed her brows slightly and murmured.
“So this is the limit…”
With those words, she once again turned her attention to the ring on her finger, lightly stroked it once, then let her hands fall.
Afterward, the Mirror Maiden floated down to the ground. Barefoot, she slowly walked beneath a large lakeside tree, leaned against the trunk, and silently sat down on the grass.
And so, resting against the solid trunk, she let her whole body relax, seated on the moonlit grass. Her silver eyes stared at the shimmering lake surface—uncertain whether she was reminiscing or pondering something.
As the leaves rustled softly in the evening breeze, the Mirror Maiden gently lowered her head and closed her eyes. Her entire form fell into stillness, as if slipping into slumber.
Not long after she fell asleep, silvery light began to shimmer faintly over her body. The gauzy veils wrapped around her gradually faded away, and her mirror-like, jade-like skin also lost its divine luster. Her entire body began to shrink and transform.
When all traces of divinity had faded, what was left beneath the tree was the form of Dorothy. She had returned to her original appearance—her loose hair now gathered, and her once-concealed dress once more properly worn. Dorothy remained in the same posture as the Mirror Maiden before, head bowed in slumber beneath the tree, letting the gentle breeze brush against her.
A few moments later, Dorothy’s brows twitched faintly. Slowly, she opened her eyes, stretched deeply as if just waking from a wonderful nap, then let out a big yawn and rubbed her eyes.
Then, she rose slowly from the grass, looked at the calm surface of Lake Starbind, and after a moment of hazy daze, murmured softly.
“…Is it all… over now?”
…
Meanwhile, within the Mirror Moon Cathedral, somewhere over Lake Starbind, several figures lay unconscious on the ground. Upon the cold stone floor, Vania Chafferon and the members of her pilgrimage guard lay in deep, dreamless slumber.
When the entire pilgrimage escort was struck down by Boade, Aldrich activated the cathedral’s golem transformation, rescuing the group at a critical moment. During the golemization process, Aldrich specifically altered the cathedral’s form to enclose the entire pilgrimage group within a chamber outfitted with a stabilization mechanism, ensuring their safety.
As a Golem User whose primary spirituality was aligned with Stone and auxiliary with Revelation, Aldrich could partially use the Mirror Moon Golem’s hypnotic functions. However, his command over this feature was quite weak, and he hadn’t employed it during the battle with Gossmore and Boade—both of whom were Crimson-rank Shadows far beyond what his hypnosis could affect.
But the situation with the pilgrimage group was different. During their clash with Boade, nearly all of them, including the Ascetic Monk, had been pierced by agony-enhancing spikes and pushed to the brink of mental collapse. To prevent any further incidents, Aldrich decisively used hypnosis to lull the mentally unstable group into sleep, keeping them unconscious for the remainder of the battle.
It wasn’t just the pilgrimage group that had been hypnotized. Aldrich had extended the hypnosis across the entire Lake Starbind area—nearly the whole city of Glamorne, in fact—placing ordinary citizens into a deep sleep to prevent them from waking due to the commotion around the lake. If regular townsfolk were to gather at the lakeshore out of curiosity, they could easily be caught in the crossfire of the Crimson-rank battle, leading to needless casualties.
On the cold floor of the cathedral, the guards of the pilgrimage group still slumbered in silence. The psychological trauma inflicted by the Crimson-rank powers had rendered them unable to awaken on their own. The only one who could wake now was the person who had avoided those tiny blood-thorns in the earlier battle with Boade—Vania.
“Mm…”
With a soft murmur and twitching eyelids, Vania slowly awoke, guided by some inner call. Her eyes opened gradually as she lay on the frigid ground.
Clad in her white nun’s robes, Vania stood up inside the room. She glanced at her unconscious companions and at the moonlight filtering through the window, her expression filled with confusion.
“Where… am I? Just now… what happened?”
Pressing her aching head, Vania muttered in bewilderment, struggling to recall what she had seen before losing consciousness. All she could remember were the quaking ground and the overwhelming assault from a powerful enemy.
“That’s right… the enemy… what’s happening outside now?”
The thought that they might still be in the middle of a battle made Vania tense with worry. But just then, a familiar voice echoed within her mind.
“Don’t panic. It’s all over.”
“That voice… Miss Dorothea! You said it’s over… then those cultists… they’ve been stopped?”
Vania paused, startled, but quickly responded in her mind.
“Yes… thanks to your efforts and help from a few others, the plan went smoothly. The Eight-Spired Nest has been seriously crippled. They won’t be making any more moves in Pritt for a while.”
Dorothy’s voice answered calmly in her mind.
Hearing this, Vania finally exhaled in relief and replied gratefully.
“Is that so… thank the Lord for Their protection…”
As usual, she instinctively wanted to offer a prayer of gratitude, but Dorothy quickly interrupted.
“It’s not time to relax just yet. There’s still cleanup work to be done—and some of it involves you.”
“Cleanup… on my end?”
Vania asked in confusion, and Dorothy responded swiftly.
“Wake up your people as soon as you can. Then head to the forest on the north side of the lake. There, you’ll find the Archbishop of the Pritt Diocese. He’s in a terrible state and needs your help…”
“Wait—Archbishop Francesco!?”
…
In the darkness, at one side of Lake Starbind, Dorothy—having mostly recovered her strength—now stood silently, gazing out at the shimmering lake surface. Her gaze fell on the cathedral floating at the lake’s center, and she murmured.
“Looks like the Eight-Spired Nest folks were really worried about their standing in the eyes of Holy Mount. Even after beating their opponent, they held back from delivering the finishing blow.”
“Of course. For the Church, an archbishop is the highest representative within a country. The death of someone of that rank would catapult that nation’s issues to top priority in the Cardinals’ Council...” replied an old man not far from her side—Aldrich, in his trench coat and wide-brimmed hat.
After a brief moment of thought, he continued.
“With the pope still absent in his ascent to the heavens, power struggles have become apparent among the Church’s upper echelons. The remaining six High Saints can’t reach consensus, which has weakened the Church’s unity and responsiveness. Many mystical organizations have taken advantage of this lapse, daring to make bold moves they would never have considered before. Still, no one wants to go too far. Provoking the Church too much might actually force them to pull themselves together and take decisive action. No one wants to be that catalyst.”
Aldrich spoke calmly, and Dorothy was caught somewhat off guard by his words. It was the first time she’d heard that the Church’s internal conflict was so intense—and that it stemmed from the Pope’s absence. Did “ascended to the heavens” mean he had entered some inner realm related to the Lantern and never returned?
“The pope’s ascension, huh… I didn’t expect you to be so generous with this level of intel. Back in the day, you’d have tried to sell something like this for a few hundred pounds,” she remarked with a hint of sarcasm.
Aldrich chuckled and replied.
“This information’s already circulated among the higher-ups of most major mystical organizations. It’s not particularly valuable anymore. Trying to barter with the Moonlit Queen’s Witch using scraps like this would be quite disrespectful to the Mistress of Shadows…”
His words made Dorothy twitch slightly at the corner of her mouth.
“So this damn merchant really changes his pricing depending on who he’s dealing with, huh.”
“So you’re just outright calling me the Moonlit Queen’s Witch now?”
“What else would I call you? You can channel the Moonlit Queen’s power. You bear a striking resemblance to her statue. If you’re not her Witch, then what are you? Are you asking this old man to believe that a completely ordinary girl, with no connection to the mystical, managed to jump four whole tiers in under a year and reach Crimson? Where would that leave my pride as a several-hundred-year-old broken Gold-rank Beyonder?”
Spreading his hands, Aldrich spoke frankly to Dorothy. From his perspective, the only explanation that made sense for her meteoric rise was that she was the chosen and personally nurtured Witch of the Mirror Moon Goddess. It had its logical gaps, sure—but to him, it was the most plausible theory.
Dorothy found herself speechless for a moment at his reasoning. After composing herself slightly, her expression grew more serious, and she asked him.
“By the way… just now, did you see anything happen to me?”
She asked this because she’d fallen asleep the moment the power of the Mirror Moon descended upon her. She wanted to know what had happened during that time, and Aldrich had been the only one nearby who might’ve remained conscious.
But Aldrich’s answer left her disappointed.
“I saw nothing. When the Moonlit Queen’s power descended, all I could see was darkness. All I heard was silence. All I touched was emptiness. Under such conditions, I couldn’t possibly glimpse any divine intent. I could only pray to the Forge and Order until the light returned…”
Hearing this, Dorothy couldn’t help but sigh.
“So you don’t know what happened either… what a shame. If the Core of Order had answered your prayer, maybe you could’ve seen something.”
She said this with a hint of teasing, but Aldrich’s expression suddenly tightened. He turned to her and asked sharply.
“What did you just say? Who did you say answered my prayer?”
“Huh? The Core of Order, of course—your guild’s god, the God of Craftsmen. Isn’t Core of Order one of Their titles, along with Forge?”
Dorothy replied as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.
“…Core of Order.”
Aldrich muttered with a strange look, then immediately spoke in a serious tone.
“That name—where did you hear it?”