East Coast of Pritt, Tivian.
During the Day of the New Moon, the moon—normally hidden by the brilliance of the blazing sun—finally emerged in form as the sunlight dimmed. As the pale moon received the sun's refracted gift, it began to glow with the fullness of a saturated full moon.
Under the illumination of the waxing New Moon, all of Tivian was bathed in its gentle silver light. The millions of citizens scattered across the city—who had been dreamwalking while muttering the epithets of eldritch gods—now, under this silver radiance that seemed able to pierce any obstruction, quietly closed their eyes again and collapsed peacefully onto the ground, slipping into a truly blissful dream.
Beneath the moonlight’s universal blessing, the northern Tivian cathedral district—once belonging to the Hymn Cathedral—had been reduced to ruins, where a long, drawn-out battle was finally nearing its conclusion. After multiple shifts in momentum, the balance of power had once again tilted toward one side.
When the dark red storm swept across the city, the spider servant with six arms and eight limbs, wielding blades in every hand, had taken the upper hand in battle. With fiercer and more brutal assaults than ever before, it forced the shadow girl into purely defensive maneuvers, dodging the deadly blades infused with immense pain. However, the moment the first beam of moonlight touched the battlefield, everything changed.
“Die!”
Swish!!
As Gaskina successfully trapped her enemy with a prison of thorns risen from the ground—greatly restricting its agile mobility—she raised her six Blood Shade weapons, swinging them in a hateful fury to slice apart both the thorn prison and the prey bound within.
But before her blades could even touch the blood-thorn cage, it suddenly shattered into fragments under several flashes of silver light. A rapid shadow burst out, brushing past Gaskina and dodging the surrounding blades. It left a deep slash across Gaskina’s body, and when the figure landed, Artcheli’s petite form stood silently, her back facing Gaskina.
“Urgh... you little brat... you dare wound me...”
Seeing the deep wound on her body, Gaskina curled her terrifying lips into a strange smile. In this battle, the pain link between tormentor and victim had long been established. As the superior tormentor, no pain ever reached her. Artcheli had only ever dodged—yet now dared to strike back. Gaskina was certain she would pay the price soon...
But this time, the expected reaction never came. Artcheli showed no signs of faltering, no wincing from shared pain. When she turned around, her cold gaze carried a sharp, killing intent, and the silver light gleaming in her eyes sent a chill down Gaskina’s spine.
“What...?”
Before Gaskina could react, Artcheli’s figure whipped around, sword in hand, becoming another blur as she slashed toward her. Gaskina quickly evaded, but her shadow under the moonlight was still grazed. A deep gash burst open at her neck, blood spraying as her body stumbled from the blow.
Utterly shocked, Gaskina widened her eyes, wanting to speak—but could not, her throat torn. What bewildered her most was how Artcheli could now attack freely without suffering the backlash of pain.
At this moment, Artcheli seemed completely unaffected by pain, like a lifeless creation. Alarmed, Gaskina invoked the Spider Queen’s divinity, forcibly imposing the concept of pain upon Artcheli. Yet as her divine will touched Artcheli’s essence, she was struck by a realization—
Within Artcheli was an abyss of overwhelming darkness.
That darkness swallowed the invading divine essence without a trace, utterly consuming it. Gaskina felt her own consciousness being pulled into it, like it would be devoured whole. For the first time, she felt a fear more profound than anything she had ever known—even more terrifying than the torment personally inflicted by the Spider Queen herself.
If she were consumed by that abyss... nothing would remain.
“Urgh!”
Frightened, Gaskina immediately severed her divine link. She now understood why pain could no longer affect Artcheli.
The truth was simple: Artcheli was now under the blessing of Mirror Moon, the goddess of night skies, darkness, and shadow. That divine force had consumed the sensory concept of pain within her.
At this moment, pain did not exist for Artcheli. Even if forcefully imposed by Gaskina, it would be swallowed again by that divine darkness. Within absolute stillness and silence, sensation held no meaning—just as Gassmore had once perished in the same pain-erasing void.
In that infinite darkness, even the most excruciating pain wrought by the Lady of Pain herself became insignificant...
“You damned moon bitch!!”
Realizing this, Gaskina—her throat healed—roared with fury and began conjuring dense blood mist in the skies, attempting to block out the light of the New Moon.
But Artcheli would not sit idly by. With a wave of her hand, countless shadow clones burst forth from her own shadow. These silhouette-like projections, lacking physical form, spread in all directions, rapidly crawling along the ground and surrounding Gaskina from all sides.
With pain no longer an obstacle, Artcheli was free to use her clone techniques without restraint. Even if a clone was struck and pain was transmitted, it would have no effect. Now fully unchained, her aggressive use of clones overwhelmed Gaskina, who had never faced such numbers before.
Faced with this assault, Gaskina knew she couldn’t finish summoning her blood mist before being cut down. She condensed the still-forming mist above her into sharp crimson spikes and launched them downward like rain.
Thousands of blood spikes fell densely like crimson raindrops, piercing the earth. Artcheli’s clones, unblessed by divine protection, twisted in agony upon being struck, unable to bear the imposed pain, and dissolved rapidly—vanishing in waves as they crumbled. The spikes created a crimson forest across the battlefield.
Yet even this couldn’t stop Artcheli’s assault. More shadow clones split forth and charged in from all directions. Their shapes shifted freely—some shrinking to a point, some stretching into lines—evading the descending spikes and weaving through the crimson forest toward Gaskina’s true form.
Realizing the unfavorable turn, Gaskina changed tactics—choosing to retreat. She attempted to dissolve into blood mist and escape.
“Urgh...”
But just then, her chest suddenly exploded without warning. Blood gushed out as several massive colorless blades burst from her torso. Eyes wide, Gaskina turned and saw her own shadow behind her—now fully corporeal and rendered in grayscale—betraying her once again.
Artcheli had puppeteered her shadow.
And this time, Gaskina couldn’t interrupt it. Without pain feedback, she had no leverage to suppress Artcheli’s technique.
Gaskina tried desperately to disperse into mist, but her body recoalesced into flesh, forcibly fixed in form as if by some great power. No matter how she tried, she could not mist again.
She turned hatefully to her shadow—now her jailer.
“What...?”
Indeed, her own shadow had imprisoned her. Though it had betrayed her, it remained mystically bound to her essence. As long as the shadow stayed, she could not escape. As long as it remained condensed, she could not transform into mist.
Gaskina had been trapped by her own shadow.
“Damn it!”
In fury, she swung her blood blade and severed the shadow’s head. In that moment, her own head also detached and dropped—landing alongside it.
Gaskina’s fallen eyes met those of her shadow—it was like staring into a mirror, one drained of color. Her gaze held despair, while the shadow’s gaze was cold and merciless.
“Queen... I beg you, save—”
Gaskina’s final plea was cut short as Artcheli’s shadow clones swarmed in from every side, slashing at her body and head with shadow-forged blades—some material, some ethereal. In no time, Gaskina was engulfed by blades, her spirituality steadily stripped away.
As she faded into death, surrounded by spectral blades, Artcheli stood silently on the edge of the bloody field. She only glanced once at Gaskina’s end before lifting her gaze skyward again.
There, amid the hallucinatory sky, she clearly saw a divine silver dragon soaring toward the twisted Dreamscape above. Beneath its wings, all seemed peaceful and natural.
Awestruck by the holy vastness of it all, Artcheli was left speechless. Eventually, she slowly knelt down and offered a devout prayer.
She knew—it was the incarnation of the saint she believed in. The embodiment of her faith.
…
“This is… unbelievable…”
On the eastern side of Tivian, before the Crystal Palace, the excruciating pain had just dissipated. The black cat, his entire body dark as ink, now gazed up at the spectacle in the sky. Even on the face of a beast, there was a clear expression of astonishment. He had never imagined he would witness such a scene.
“This is… the Night Sky… the fabled Night Sky divinity… What she said—about being a representative of the Queen of the Night Sky—it was true after all…
“To think that under the firmament of this Fourth Epoch, a divine miracle of the night sky could still occur…”
Muttering in disbelief, the black cat watched the skyscape overhead. He recalled the girl who once introduced herself to them as Scholar, claiming to be connected to the Queen of the Night Sky. At the time, he had only half-believed her. But the sight now before him had dispelled all doubt.
“Her Excellency the Dragon… has turned silver… and grown so large, so majestic, so beautiful…
“Is… is that really still Her Excellency the Dragon?”
Within the Crystal Palace, pain had just faded. The little fox, Saria, sat on the floor and looked up dazedly at the sky. She couldn’t believe that the usually imposing dragon could become something so graceful and divine.
“ Cough cough… huu… Over there… did it succeed? What a spectacle…”
On the plaza outside the palace, Gregor—who had just emerged from the throes of agony—lay weakly on the ground, forcing a faint smile as he bathed in the moonlight. A deep, nostalgic sense of familiarity stirred within him.
“It’s… so peaceful…”
Enveloped in the moon’s comfort, Gregor closed his eyes in serenity, as if he wished to sleep soundly for a while.
“What… what a huge silver dragon. And it’s so beautiful… Could that ritual really produce something like this?”
At the palace gate, Nephthys too looked skyward, her voice tinged with awe. She had seen many grand spectacles, but the appearance of such an exquisite being still left her momentarily stunned. Inwardly, she marveled.
“Such a miracle… clearly does not belong to the domain of Revelation. And yet Miss Dorothy can summon it. Just how many secrets is she hiding…?”
“A Divine Dragon of the Night Sky…? Seems the little detective’s origins are far less simple than I thought…”
In the forests surrounding the World Plaza, Adele looked up at the heavens with a soft smile, voicing her own quiet thoughts.
Under the gaze of many, bathed in the light of the New Moon, the silver divine dragon unfurled its vast wings and soared with elegant grace through the sky. Mystical halos radiated divine brilliance; its crystal scales glimmered with sacred light. With each beat of its wings, silvery sparks trailed behind like stardust, forming a luminous trail—like a galaxy in the night sky.
Calm and serene, the Queen of the Night Sky’s divine dragon flew toward the distorted Dreamscape at the peak of the heavens. Yet the crimson evil festering within that Dreamscape reacted with violent rejection to its approach. In the hatred accumulated over countless millennia, that malevolence launched an unrelenting assault on the divine dragon.
As space fractured, massive crimson spikes pierced through, hurtling toward the dragon. But near the dragon, ghostly silver mirrors materialized from nothing, reflecting the incoming spikes. Each spike collided with its mirrored twin—only to shatter violently.
Protected by this almost magical mirror defense, the spatial-piercing spikes broke apart without ever wounding the silver dragon. Some attacks then shifted tactics—infused with divine power, they became conceptual, intangible thorns of nihilism aimed at inflicting pure pain. But even these were swallowed by the deep darkness within the dragon, rendering them entirely ineffective.
With wings outstretched, the divine dragon was about to enter the twisted dream. At its heart, atop a sacred cocoon veined with crimson, an abnormally massive spider revealed extreme hostility to the dragon’s approach. Its hoarse, hate-filled screech echoed through the Dreamscape.
“Se… le… ne…”
Consumed by hatred, the spider atop the sacred cocoon unleashed its power. A crimson storm surged around the silver dragon, expanding rapidly outward. The divine dragon was instantly engulfed. Even a Gold-rank Stone Beyonder would be pulverized by such a ferocious storm.
But in the very instant the storm engulfed the dragon, its momentum sharply declined. Within a second, it began to calm—and under the influence of some strange force, it completely ceased.
Seeing that neither storm nor spikes could halt the divine dragon, the monstrous spider realized it lacked the strength to contend with this foe. Retreat was the only option.
Embedding its eight legs deep into the cocoon, the spider forcefully activated the undeveloped power within it. In an instant, both spider and cocoon dissolved into nothingness, vanishing into the wind—swept toward distant realms beyond space.
Wind—the essence of boundless freedom, capable of reaching anywhere, unstoppable and unrestrained. Wielding the divine power of wind, the spider began its retreat, intending to digest its harvest and plan revenge later.
Blessed by the divine wind, the spider could cross all barriers in a blink—space itself posed no obstacle.
And yet, even as the spider and cocoon vanished into the breeze, the silver divine dragon—now within the dream—made no sudden moves. It simply continued its graceful flight forward. Then, in what seemed like an ordinary wingbeat, a vast, invisible divine force rippled outward—permeating the entire realm.
Immediately, the world changed. Reality twisted into chaos.
Under the cleansing wave of supreme Shadow divinity, the Dreamscape began to fracture. Space splintered like glass—shattered rifts spread everywhere. Within each rift, glimpses of entirely different realms emerged—none belonging to the Dreamscape.
The Dreamscape was now chaotic beyond measure. Adjacent to a meadow of giant dream trees and colorful grasses was a searing lava lake, roiling with molten rock. A lavafall poured into it—from the mouth of a vast, ordinary ocean. On the ocean’s horizon stood immense cities, gear-driven skies, and suspended oceans above.
Now, the Dreamscape was a kaleidoscopic patchwork: forests, oceans, lava fields, factories, glaciers, deserts, abysses… all jumbled together. It dazzled and disoriented, a landscape of disjointed marvels—no place was distinguishable from another.
This… was a manifestation of dimensional distortion. The Divine Dragon of the Night Sky had used its power to twist countless inner realms together. Like scrambling a Rubik’s cube—if the original Dreamscape was one face, and the other realms were other faces, the dragon had completely scrambled them. Now each face was a chaotic blend.
Why? To make the wind lose its way.
When realms and directions lose all meaning, when every signpost points falsely, when beginning and end are inverted—then no matter how fast or unimpeded the traveler, they can never reach their goal. Misdirected, they are always returned to where they began.
Which is exactly what happened.
The spider and cocoon, which should have escaped, reappeared in midair—still within the Dreamscape, now suspended and facing the silver dragon once again. The spider’s eight eyes widened in stunned disbelief.
Even now, the divine dragon remained in silent flight.
Faced with this, the Spider Queen’s incarnation tried another tactic.
Mist.
From its maw, the giant spider spewed a crimson fog of confusion. It swiftly expanded, shrouding both itself and the cocoon, and radiated outward. The spider hoped the fog could disrupt the dragon’s attacks.
But the silver dragon calmly opened its jaws. From within, a pitch-black orb emerged—so dark it stood in stark contrast to the dragon’s radiant form. As the orb swelled, it was silently launched into the spreading red mist.
As the black orb left the dragon’s mouth, it rapidly expanded. Space and light around it distorted and spiraled inward, drawn toward the orb. The red mist was quickly sucked in.
As the orb grew, its gravitational pull intensified. Not just the fog, but the surrounding reality itself began to collapse toward it. Giant dream trees were uprooted. Lava from the lakes surged skyward. Seawater rose in towering jets and collided with magma midair. Even the steel sky’s gearwork twisted and snapped—drawn into the endless void.
The black hole—this black hole conjured by the silver divine dragon—was now ruthlessly devouring everything within the surrounding space. The dispersed crimson fog of confusion was quickly sucked in by the miniature black hole. The spider incarnation and the sacred cocoon, too, were caught in the colossal gravitational pull, being dragged toward the endless darkness. Within this vortex of gravity, only the silver dragon remained steadily suspended, unaffected.
The spider seemed utterly unable to resist the pull of the black hole, plummeting into the abyss along with the cocoon. Yet unwilling to allow its incarnation and prey to simply vanish, the Spider Queen herself made a move once more.
In this already bizarre space, another enormous rift suddenly tore open. From within the rupture, eight massive eyes glared intently outward.
From that shattered void, several massive, razor-sharp spider legs—each hundreds to thousands of meters long—stretched out toward the spider incarnation and sacred cocoon being sucked into the black hole, seemingly trying to retrieve them. In response, the silver divine dragon opened its maw again. But this time, it gathered not a sphere of pure black, but a brilliant beam of white light. At the same time, violent gales began to swirl around it.
At last, with a blinding flash, the dragon unleashed a torrent of white breath. It surged toward the outstretched spider limbs—this was wind compressed to its utmost limit, released in a light-like form as a ray of annihilation. As the white light swept across the colossal legs, it mercilessly severed them. The moment those limbs were cut, the entire space began to shake violently, as if echoing the Spider Queen’s furious shriek.
With the spider legs severed by the white beam, the spider incarnation and the sacred cocoon could no longer avoid being consumed by the black hole. Their forms were distorted and stretched by the uneven gravitational force into long, narrow strands before finally being swallowed into the abyss. After engulfing them both, the once-expanding black hole suddenly began to shrink rapidly—until it vanished entirely.
The rift in space that had shown the eight glaring eyes also began to seal. But the silver divine dragon did not intend to let it go so easily. It spread its vast wings and raced toward the closing fissure. Just before it shut completely, the dragon rushed in.
With the rift’s final closure, the entire warped space began returning to order. The alien terrain—those searing lava lakes, the oceans, cities, factories, and mountains—began fading rapidly. Towering dream trees and vibrant meadows returned to their rightful places.
The Dreamscape was restoring itself. Not only the distortions caused by the spatial collapse, but also the corruption of the Spider Queen was fading. The crimson thorns that had erupted from the ground and twisted around the trees receded, returning to the soil. Even the illusion of Tivian that had appeared on the ground was dissipating. The boundary between dream and reality became clear once more. The distinction between dream and waking world returned to order.
Soon, the Dreamscape’s forest returned to its former state. The colorful meadows stretched endlessly, and the towering canopies reached the heavens. All was quiet and profound once again—peaceful, as though the battle had never occurred.
The Dreamscape returned to its usual silence.
But that silence lasted only a moment before something stirred. Beneath the dusky canopy, between the towering trees, a flash of silver light flared—and the majestic form of the silver divine dragon reappeared, descending slowly in solemn grace.
Unscathed, the dragon returned to the Dreamscape. After descending, it looked toward a clearing among the great trees. There, with a ripple of space, the sacred cocoon that had been swallowed by the black hole reappeared—pristine and white, now free of the dark crimson marks once left by the spider.
From the cocoon extended countless fine, crystalline threads, wrapping around the giant trees and suspending it midair once more.
With the cocoon settled in place, the silver divine dragon spread its wings. A gentle silver radiance enveloped its form, and its enormous body—hundreds of meters tall—rapidly began to shrink.
Soon, the silver light split and dissipated into the wind.
As the silver glow faded, two nearly identical translucent figures of girls emerged—both bearing the same appearance as Dorothy.
Now, within the forest, stood two silver-haired girls who looked nearly identical, dressed in matching gowns, facing each other.
If there was any difference, it was that one’s eyes glowed with silver light and bore a gentle smile, while the other seemed to be slowly waking from slumber. As she opened her red eyes with slight confusion, she looked at the girl before her—like gazing into a mirror.
After rubbing her eyes and shaking her head, Dorothy tried to clear her drowsiness and looked around blankly, then slowly spoke.
“You… are you… Mirror Moon Goddess?”
Striving to wake herself fully, Dorothy addressed the familiar yet unfamiliar presence before her. The other girl responded with a soft smile and a nod.
“Mirror Moon? If that is the name you prefer… then so be it.”
The girl who called herself Mirror Moon replied calmly to Dorothy. Hearing this, Dorothy froze for a moment, then suddenly sobered.
This was Mirror Moon—the goddess herself! This was her first time having a direct conversation with a deity!
Realizing the weight of the moment, Dorothy straightened up and composed herself before asking.
“You… can speak with me directly now?”
With a trace of astonishment, she posed the question. Mirror Moon, still in Dorothy’s form, gently responded.
“Yes… This ritual of yours is, across the entirety of the Fourth Epoch, the most elaborate and impactful one related to me. Through it, I’ve been able to manifest the grandest divine miracle of this era beneath the dominion of Day. Though that miracle is nearing its end, remnants still linger—enough for brief communication…
“My time now is limited. If you have questions, ask them. Within the bounds of what is permitted, I shall answer.”
So spoke Mirror Moon.
Dorothy paused briefly upon hearing this, then immediately asked.
“What happened to the Spider Queen? What’s the status of the Butterfly God? And how is the Wind Knight now?”
In a solemn tone, Dorothy posed the most pressing and urgent questions to Mirror Moon, who responded calmly and steadily.
“I fused myself with the dragon incarnation you created and launched an assault on Morrigan’s domain, inflicting injury upon her true form. However, due to the waning of the miracle’s effect, I was unable to achieve further results and had to retreat back into a safe domain.
“Morrigan, now wounded, will be unable to influence the material world or any of the inner realms for a time. She must lie dormant and recover… and digest her so-called ‘spoils.’ For the short term, you no longer need to concern yourself with her threat.”
Mirror Moon spoke gently to Dorothy. Listening, Dorothy glanced at the sacred cocoon in the distance, then turned her gaze back and solemnly asked.
“Those ‘spoils’… you mean the Wind Knight, don’t you? So even you couldn’t save him…”
“Yes… by the time I arrived, it was too late. Though the Dream Seed was rescued, Arthur’s remains had already been completely devoured by Morrigan. Despenser had kept those remains hidden for a thousand years, but in the end, Morrigan still found them. Just like always—so persistent…”
Mirror Moon spoke with measured calm. Although the Wind Knight’s remains had been taken by the Spider Queen, she showed no visible emotion—no grief, no regret—speaking as if recounting a mundane occurrence.
“So… the purpose of Despenser’s secrecy ritual was only to keep the Spider Queen from finding Arthur’s remains?”
Dorothy pressed on, and Mirror Moon continued.
“That was only part of it. The more important purpose was to ensure the Storm Throne wouldn’t fall into corruption after Arthur’s death. By placing his remains on the divine throne and using his bloodline’s secrecy to preserve the body, I left behind a method to ensure the throne would not be defiled. You must understand—not all self-born gods are like the Dream Lord, with special growth stages that can be guided to avoid corruption.”
Mirror Moon’s reply remained tranquil. From this, Dorothy realized that Despenser’s ritual served not only to hide the remains from the Spider Queen—it was chiefly a way to prevent the Storm Path from descending into corruption. In this Fourth Epoch, it seemed that any god who naturally formed upon a divine throne was destined to fall. Mirror Moon’s solution had been to anchor Arthur’s divine corpse upon the throne and use the Secrecy Sovereigns to prevent its decay.
It was akin to how Heaven’s Arbiter once used students to occupy a throne—though seemingly more unstable. This also explained the longstanding madness afflicting Pritt’s royal line roughly every five centuries. It stemmed from the creeping corruption of Arthur’s divine remains… and only a renewed secrecy ritual could suppress it. The Spider Queen had exploited this opportunity to enact her various schemes.
“So that means… the Storm Path is now once again under the Spider Queen’s control? Doesn’t that mean Pritt will gradually fall into her hands again?”
Hearing Mirror Moon’s earlier words, Dorothy asked with growing concern. Mirror Moon calmly replied.
“In the long term, yes. But for now, with Morrigan weakened, I can take this opportunity to leave Pritt a new guardian—one that will protect against Morrigan’s corruption for the next century. After that, the country may once more fall under her venomous grasp… but I expect to settle all accounts with her before that time comes.”
Mirror Moon’s answer was even and steady. After hearing this, Dorothy nodded silently, then looked again to the nearby sacred cocoon and asked.
“Then… what of this cocoon? What do you plan to do with it?”
“Before I depart, I will call forth the proper will within it and strengthen it to the point it can suppress its corrupted aspect. I will ensure it can undergo a proper metamorphosis. The time has come for a new Dream Lord to be born. Once I leave, place it into the hands of the right person… It won’t be long before this Dreamscape welcomes its new master.”
Mirror Moon’s voice remained serene. Dorothy clearly understood she was referring to Saria and her grandfather, the black cat. After years of being under the Blackdream Hunting Pack’s control, the sacred cocoon would finally return to the Butterfly's Dreamland.
With her questions about the current states of various deities answered, Dorothy paused, then changed the subject.
To ask something more personal—something even more important to her.
“O Queen of the Night Sky… I wish to ask you—what exactly is the connection between us? What secrets do I carry? How much do you know… and how much can you tell me?”
Her tone was reverent, and her gaze sincere as she asked the silver-haired girl who mirrored her own appearance. Upon hearing Dorothy’s question, a faint ripple seemed to stir in Mirror Moon’s previously expressionless face. After a moment’s silence, she finally spoke.
“I know… for you, who appeared inexplicably in this world, these are the most important questions… Regrettably, I cannot answer them.”
There was a hint of helplessness in her voice. Dorothy’s brows furrowed, and she responded with urgency.
“Why? Why can’t you tell me?”
Mirror Moon let out a soft sigh. She raised two fingers to her lips and spoke in a quiet whisper:
“Because the answers to those questions involve a secret… one that concerns the very fate of this entire world…
“And I… am the keeper of that secret. The greatest secret hidden by the Goddess of Night.”
She whispered the words gently to Dorothy. Hearing them, Dorothy froze on the spot, her eyes wide.
“What… the secret keeper? My origins… my connection with Mirror Moon… all tied to a secret? And that secret requires Mirror Moon herself to be its guardian?”
Dorothy was utterly stunned. What kind of world-shaking secret could it be, that the Master of Shadow herself must guard it personally? What could Mirror Moon possibly gain from this secrecy?
“A secret keeper… Then who exactly are you keeping this secret from?” she asked in wonder. Mirror Moon replied in a quiet voice.
“This secret is kept from all mortals and gods. But most importantly… it is kept from the ‘Fall’ itself.”
“From… ‘Fall’ itself…”
“Yes, child. That is why I cannot reveal to you the truths you so desperately seek. But you can still search for them yourself. Through your journey, through the buried histories… you may uncover the truth.”
Mirror Moon’s tone held a strange weight. Dorothy, still confused, pressed further.
“Then… where should I start? Can you give me some kind of clue?”
“Continue your journey… When you have learned the secrets of all divine natures, and stepped into the Gold rank to approach godhood… only then will you be close to uncovering the truth you seek.
“If I must give you one hint… let it be this: pay attention to the name Hyperion. It is the key to everything you wish to know… the single most important factor behind the current state of this world.”