East Coast of Pritt, Tivian.
In the daylight hours, beneath the new Boyle family villa in East Tivian, within a hidden underground chamber, Dorothy stood before a softly glowing and intricately designed Revelation ritual array. She held the golden scepter embedded at its center with both hands, her eyes closed, expression focused—seemingly immersed in sensing something. Nearby, Nephthys stood at the edge of the array, watching somewhat anxiously.
“How is it, Miss Dorothy? Did you hear the voice?”
Nephthys asked curiously, watching Dorothy. But Dorothy did not immediately respond. She continued to grip the scepter, eyes shut and unmoving. This silence made Nephthys even more uneasy, prompting her to call out again.
“Miss Dorothy… Miss Dorothy!”
Only after Nephthys called out twice did Dorothy finally react—releasing the scepter and opening her eyes. For a moment she appeared dazed, but quickly regained her composure. Turning toward Nephthys, she shook her head and spoke.
“No… at least during the time I was sensing it, I didn’t hear anything unusual.”
Hearing her say this, Nephthys felt a trace of confusion, especially given how focused Dorothy had looked earlier. But before she could speak again, Dorothy asked another question.
“Senior Nephthys, was it that you could hear the voice every time you touched this thing?”
Nephthys shook her head.
“Not really… I only heard it once before, briefly, while I was replenishing the scepter’s spirituality. I thought I was imagining it. But just in case, I figured I should mention it to you…”
As she spoke, she seemed to recall something and added.
“Miss Dorothy, since even you didn’t hear anything… does that mean I really was just hearing things?”
Nephthys asked, seeking reassurance. But Dorothy didn’t immediately answer—she sank into contemplative silence.
“Based on what Neph said, the voice she heard was ‘Viagetta’… the final Heaven Anointed Sage from the First Dynasty, who waited a thousand years in the Pseudo History by the command of Heaven’s Arbiter, and eventually passed on the Arbiter’s divinity to me…
“Back in Busalet, only I saw Viagetta. I never told Neph or the others anything about her. The only people in the world who know that name besides me are the four undead pharaohs. Nephthys would have no way of hearing it randomly. It couldn’t have been a hallucination...
“So why did Nephthys suddenly hear Viagetta’s name? Was it the golden scepter… or something about Nephthys herself? Or perhaps both?”
“According to Viagetta herself, Nephthys is her descendant. Mystically speaking, there’s already an invisible link between them. Also, this golden scepter is connected to Nephthys’s grandmother, who in turn had some connection with Hafdar—the undead pharaoh...
“These connections could all be linked. But which of these factors changed to make Nephthys hear that name? And what does it imply?”
“If only I could figure out what’s really going on with this thing... If only that automaton were here…”
Dorothy stared intently at the golden scepter, rubbing her chin thoughtfully. She had long ago appraised the artifact using Appraisal skill, but the result had only revealed it as an ancient relic capable of resisting curses. Nothing more.
In truth, Dorothy’s Appraisal skill wasn’t that deep—it could only identify the current condition and powers of a mystical item, not its deeper secrets. Unless the state of the item changed, she couldn’t extract further information—just like when she had appraised her heirloom ring in the past.
If she truly wanted to uncover the scepter’s secrets, her best bet would be to have that automaton perform an appraisal. Unfortunately, she had no idea where she was now.
Meanwhile, seeing Dorothy remain silent, Nephthys couldn’t help but ask again.
“Um… Miss Dorothy, then what do you think that voice I heard was? That so-called Viagetta…”
“…There’s still too little evidence to say anything for certain,” Dorothy replied.
“We’ll need to observe and test it for a while before drawing any conclusions.”
Hearing this, Nephthys paused briefly and nodded.
“…Alright.”
Since there were no concrete clues, Dorothy couldn’t pinpoint the reason for the scepter’s anomaly. She decided to mark it for further observation and wait for Beverly’s return before making a deeper investigation.
Having said her goodbyes to Nephthys, Dorothy left the new Boyle villa and boarded her carriage, gently departing the scene.
As she sat inside the carriage, mulling over everything while watching the scenery pass by outside, she suddenly paused—like she had sensed something. Reaching into her bag, she pulled out her ever-present magic box and took out her frequently used Literary Sea Logbook. Flipping to the page with new writing, she found a message on one of the contact sheets.
It was from her student, Anna Field—now the most prominent duchess in Pritt.
“Teacher Mayschoss, have you considered the matter I mentioned? The coronation is fast approaching, so please make a decision soon so we can finalize the arrangements.”
“Coronation, huh…”
Dorothy muttered as she stared at Anna’s familiar handwriting. She knew the matter Anna referred to—a mystical coronation.
Previously, Anna had suggested that after Isabelle’s public, formal coronation concluded, Dorothy could privately host a second coronation—for Isabelle—as the Mirror Moon Goddess’s divine envoy.
The public coronation would be conducted by the Radiance Church’s archbishop and symbolized the Church’s recognition of the new queen. But Pritt, mystically speaking, was closely tied to the Mirror Moon Goddess. The Despenser royal line in particular had relied heavily on the Mirror Moon Goddess’s legacy to resist evil gods. Isabelle believed that Radiance Church involvement alone wasn’t sufficient—Mirror Moon influence also needed to be included.
Anna had brought up this private coronation idea before. But at the time, Dorothy was still unaccustomed to appearing before others in her true identity, so she hadn’t agreed right away.
Now, however, things had changed. Dorothy’s existence was already known, at varying levels, among the highest circles of the mysticism world. There was no longer any need for her to adhere to strict secrecy. Holding such a ceremony wasn’t out of the question anymore. In fact, it could even strengthen her juridical link with Pritt—a useful outcome.
After thinking it over carefully, Dorothy took out her pen from the magic box and began to write her reply in the Literary Sea Logbook.
…
Tivian, Royal District.
In the core of the Kingdom of Pritt, within the restricted palace district forbidden to ordinary folk, a classically elegant study within the Solitary Cloud Palace hosted a golden-haired girl dressed in a dignified noble gown. Upon seeing the text appear on the open book before her, a joyful smile spread across her face. She then closed the book, fastened it to her waist with a specially crafted belt, and walked briskly toward the door.
Stepping into the ornately decorated corridor, she moved with purpose along the thick carpet. Occasionally, busy palace servants and stationed guards came into view. Upon seeing the girl approach so swiftly, they reacted with surprise, hastily offering her respectful bows.
Amidst these gestures of deference, the girl arrived at the door at the end of the long hallway. The guards posted there immediately opened the door upon seeing her, revealing a grand and luxuriously furnished bedroom.
Once inside, the girl scanned the room but did not find the person she sought. Her gaze then shifted to the open glass door on the right side of the large bed.
Beyond the glass door lay a verdant greenhouse garden attached to the lavish chamber. Seated on a chair on the garden’s grass was a slightly older girl in a white dress, her long golden hair tied in a braid. She read a newspaper quietly, a trace of worry on her face, flanked by two attentive maids.
Hearing the disturbance from inside the room, the girl in white looked up from her newspaper. The moment she recognized the visitor, her anxious expression melted away. She stood up immediately and called out:
“You’re finally back, Anna… Any news?”
Faced with the princess’s eager question, Anna didn’t answer right away. Instead, she scanned her surroundings. Noticing this, the girl blinked, then turned to the maids and said, “You two may leave.”
“Yes, Your Highness…”
The maids respectfully exited the room and closed the door behind them. Anna, after confirming their privacy, approached the girl in the garden and gave a slight bow.
“Your Highness, you’re about to be crowned Queen. You should begin treating certain matters with more discretion.”
“Ah… I’m sorry, Anna. I’ve never really handled things like this before… I’ll be more careful in the future.”
Princess Isabelle replied a bit awkwardly, then quickly returned to her original urgency.
“Right! So, Anna, did you get word from Her Excellency the Divine Child? What did she say?”
Anna nodded seriously.
“Her Excellency has agreed to our request. She will conduct a secret coronation ceremony for Your Highness, scheduled right after the formal public one.”
“Whew… That’s wonderful news. Thank the Divine Child…”
Isabelle let out a breath of relief, visibly reassured, her prior worry vanishing completely. Anna smiled as she continued:
“Now that Her Excellency has agreed to appear at a private event, everything becomes much easier. Many witnessed Her miracle firsthand. With her clear endorsement, the instability following your succession will be greatly reduced.”
“Yes, and it’s all thanks to you, Anna. I never imagined myself inheriting the throne—I wasn’t prepared at all. Without you, I don’t know how I would have made it through this time…”
As she spoke, Isabelle pulled Anna toward the garden and seated them together at a glass table. While offering silent gratitude to the Divine Child, they continued discussing other details of the coronation.
For both Isabelle herself and the entire Pritt Kingdom, her sudden designation as heir had come as a complete surprise. Isabelle vividly remembered her father, King Charles IV, announcing her name as successor during his soul’s farewell ceremony—shocking the entire royal household. She also remembered sneaking into the city in disguise afterward, witnessing firsthand the disbelief and uproar among the citizens over the news.
Charles IV had previously consulted Dorothy regarding the choice of successor. As a high-ranking Beyonder, Dorothy naturally approached the issue from a mystical standpoint. Isabelle, having once hosted the Descent Ritual of the Mirror Moon Goddess and channeled the souls of Pritt’s former kings, was the most mystically aligned choice. But from any other perspective, she was not.
Isabelle was not high in the line of succession within the Despenser royal family. She had never been groomed for queenship. She had little connection to politics, no ties to the military, the bureaucracy, the aristocracy, or the great capitalists. Though she had a decent public image due to her charity work, she was largely seen as a royal ornament—someone with no business being anywhere near the throne.
Thus, when Charles IV—following Dorothy’s advice—chose Isabelle as heir, the decision triggered political earthquakes across Pritt. Voices of opposition arose from every quarter: royalty, nobility, the government, the military. Countless people sought to have the king rescind the appointment. The upper echelons of Pritt fell into disarray. All manner of conspiracies began to fester, poised to erupt the moment Charles IV passed away.
Fortunately, Pritt still had one transcendent figure: Artcheli. After the Tivian divine catastrophe, Artcheli and her Court of Secrets remained in Pritt for some time to eliminate the remnants of the Eight-Spired Nest. As a Saint, Artcheli held an authority akin to that of a shadow emperor—her weight far exceeding that of any mortal king. Because Isabelle’s appointment came on Dorothy’s recommendation, Artcheli expressed her support shortly after the announcement. That alone sent many would-be conspirators retreating in fear.
In short, while Isabelle enjoyed powerful backing, her domestic foundation remained weak. Like Anna—the newly appointed Duchess—she had dropped into Pritt’s political landscape seemingly from nowhere. Anna, thanks to her own talent as a Revelation Beyonder and Artcheli’s support, could barely navigate the tides of politics. But Isabelle, formerly a royal figurehead, now suddenly thrust into power, clearly found herself at a loss. Without Anna’s help, she likely would have faltered. Recently, Isabelle had come to rely heavily on this young duchess who seemed younger than her in age but far more composed.
This idea of inviting Dorothy to perform a secondary coronation had been jointly devised by Anna and Isabelle—to further solidify Isabelle’s legitimacy, stabilize her rule, and deter any lingering threats.
“With Her Excellency’s personal involvement, I doubt uncle and the others will dare utter another word. Anna, truly… thank you for persuading her to come.”
Seated beside the glass table, Isabel grasped Anna’s hand with sincere gratitude on her face. Anna, in turn, responded solemnly.
“This is my duty, Your Highness. This nation has just weathered a great crisis. It cannot afford to endure further upheaval. Only by ensuring your smooth succession can peace return to Pritt.
“The coronation is nearly here. Make sure to prepare well during these last few days.”
“Mhm…”
The young queen smiled and nodded at the girl duchess before her.
…
Several Weeks Later — Tivian, Pritt.
The endless overcast clouds that had blanketed the city skies finally dispersed, and for the first time in what felt like ages, sunlight poured gently onto the earth. The soft winter rays brought warmth to the land, and on this rare fair-weather day, Tivian—the capital of the Pritt Kingdom—welcomed both a beautiful day and an important celebration.
On King’s Street, the city’s broadest avenue, flowers lined both sides in full bloom. The national emblem and flag of Pritt adorned the facades of buildings alongside coordinated decorative banners that extended as far as the eye could see. Every gas lamp bore the crest of the nation and royal family, joining countless citizens in celebration of this extraordinary moment.
Crowds gathered along the sides of the road, citizens from all corners of Tivian cheering and celebrating. From behind the walls of iron fences and guarded lines of soldiers, they shouted blessings toward the dignified and splendid royal procession, their enthusiastic voices filling the street with color and sound.
At the heart of that procession was a grand, opulent carriage, dazzling like a radiant pearl set upon the tree-lined avenue. Pulled by eight tall, snow-white steeds, the carriage was flanked by the Royal Guard marching in step. Following behind was an extended delegation of representatives from Pritt’s cities and colonies. Inside the carriage, the young queen—draped in a luxurious gown studded with diamonds and silver—waved and smiled gracefully at the crowd in the distance.
For months, the city had been shrouded in the shadow of various crises. Ongoing negative news in the papers had left people despondent. Even the most oblivious commoners had begun to sense that their world was growing increasingly dangerous and unstable. In such anxious times, the coronation of a new monarch came to symbolize hope—a sign that the previous dark clouds might finally be swept away.
The people’s yearning for change, coupled with Isabelle’s already favorable public image, brought incredible enthusiasm from the common folk for this royal celebration.
Amidst the citywide festivities, the queen’s procession departed the Solitary Cloud Palace and exited the royal district. After parading through King’s Street and circling Victory Plaza, the procession turned northward, making its way toward the Cathedral District.
Upon entering the cathedral square, the general public was barred from entering. The queen’s carriage, escorted by ceremonial guards of the Church Guard, halted in the spacious plaza. There, the young queen alighted with the assistance of her attendants. Her ladies-in-waiting draped a vast satin cloak over her shoulders and lifted the flowing train behind her as she walked forward toward the open cathedral doors.
Surrounded by sacred hymns, Isabelle entered the newly constructed Hymn Cathedral, which had been hurriedly completed in time for the ceremony.
Inside the incense-filled, kaleidoscopically lit chapel, the kingdom’s nobles, military heroes, and foreign dignitaries rose solemnly the moment the queen stepped in. They watched as she received the ceremonial royal sword at the entrance, then, to the sound of choir chants, made her way toward the altar at the far end—where the newly appointed Archbishop of Pritt had long been waiting.
And amidst the seats of honor and nobility… a venomous gaze fixated on the solemnly advancing queen.
…
“Thank goodness… nothing went wrong…”
After the coronation ceremony, inside the now-noisy cathedral, Anna exhaled deeply, relieved as she watched Isabelle depart ahead of her.
Just moments earlier, when the new Archbishop Borrain of Pritt placed the heavy crown upon Isabelle’s head, the months-long burden Anna had carried finally lifted. With the ceremony more than ninety percent complete and no incident to speak of, she could now ease her mind.
It was truly a relief. Unlike the previous World Expo—or even earlier, the New Year’s celebration—this grand event in Tivian hadn’t been disrupted by cults or sabotage. No conspirators had launched attacks. Everything had unfolded smoothly, without a single incident. Nothing could be more reassuring than that.
So thought Anna. Following Dorothy’s advice, she had prepared numerous contingency plans in case of any mishaps today—but, thankfully, none had been needed.
“Now all that remains is the evening’s secret coronation. With Teacher Mayschoss attending personally, there shouldn’t be any issues… Alright Anna, keep pushing—handle everything perfectly today!”
Encouraging herself silently, Anna walked with the dispersing crowd. The main coronation ceremony was now complete, and the key witnesses and participants were exiting in an orderly fashion. Anna followed them out of the cathedral and ascended the stairs to the plaza.
As the procession exited the Cathedral District, dignitaries and representatives occasionally gathered in small groups to chat. Many took the opportunity to approach Anna—the brightest rising star in Pritt’s upper society. She responded to each one with grace. Having already built connections with most of Tivian’s elite, today it was mostly foreign delegates who came to speak with her.
…
“Ah… you must be Lady Field. You’re even younger than the rumors say… To have such a talented young pillar like you in Pritt—it’s a blessing for your country.”
Beside Anna, a balding middle-aged man in a black formal suit spoke with a smile. His Prittish had a distinct Falano accent. Though his tone sounded friendly, there was a faintly odd edge to it. Anna maintained her polite smile and replied.
“You must be Mr. Samson. I’ve read your published diplomatic essays—it’s a pleasure to meet you. I was disappointed when I heard Falano’s Consuls couldn’t attend today, but your presence more than makes up for that.”
“Heh… not at all. I must extend our apologies for the Consuls’ absence. I hope you’ll understand our country’s current… special circumstances.”
Samson spoke frankly. Hearing this, Anna tilted her head slightly in curiosity and asked:
“Come to think of it… your Consular Council currently…”
Just as she was about to pursue the question, Samson chuckled and waved dismissively—clearly not wishing to elaborate. Anna tactfully shifted the topic, letting it go.
She was aware that Falano’s political situation had grown unstable lately. Something had clearly happened among its leadership—the Consuls hadn’t appeared in parliament for some time now, and the government was struggling to operate. At this point, aside from the ever-aloof Cardinal Council, likely no one truly knew what was going on in Falano.
…
“Honorable Lady Field! It’s a pleasure to meet you. Thank you so much for the invitation!”
A man with a slightly darker complexion, short black hair, dressed in formal wear and appearing to be in his early thirties, greeted Anna with an excited smile while shaking her hand. After their handshake, Anna smiled and replied.
“I’m glad to meet you too, Mr. Aziz. How is General Shadi doing lately?”
“His Excellency the General has been burdened with many affairs… He asked me to convey his gratitude. For all of Addus, this opportunity to be here today is very important,” Aziz said earnestly in somewhat clumsy Prittish.
Aziz was a representative from Addus—a country whose revolutionary forces had overthrown the pro-mainland puppet regime of the Baruch Dynasty. Because of this, the newly formed Addus government had extremely poor relations with mainland powers. At one point, several of those great powers had considered a joint military intervention. However, due to Vania’s actions in Addus being held up as a model by the Church, these nations were forced to abandon their plans out of respect for the Church.
Though Shadi’s Addus regime had avoided foreign military intervention thanks to its alignment with the Church, it was still politically isolated. None of the major mainland powers had established diplomatic relations with it, and Addus remained under various economic sanctions. While Shadi had long sought to normalize relations, his efforts had achieved little.
This time, however, at Dorothy’s suggestion, Anna had arranged for the Pritt government to invite Addus to send a delegation to Queen Isabelle’s coronation. This was not only a diplomatic signal that Pritt wished to improve ties with Addus, but also an opportunity for Addus to directly connect with foreign dignitaries and break its diplomatic isolation. Thus, Aziz’s heartfelt gratitude.
Anna nodded with a polite smile.
“Then I hope your country will make the most of this opportunity… And your thanks shouldn’t be reserved for me alone—it should also go to the divine.”
“Di… divine? Oh—praise be to the Lord… praise the Three Saints…”
Aziz quickly added with a flustered bow, while Anna silently observed him.
…
“Honorable Lady Field, Hand of the young Queen—it’s a great honor to meet you. I bring greetings on behalf of Prince Bodel.”
After entertaining several waves of guests, Anna was now approached by a man in formal dress, glasses perched on his nose, with a solemn demeanor and appearing to be in his forties.
Anna responded with poise:
“Thank you for the Prince’s greetings. But please, spare me the meaningless titles. Mr. Schwartz… please convey my regards as well to His Highness Otto and His Majesty Diederich.”
“Of course,” the diplomat named Schwartz said respectfully. Anna then asked curiously.
“By the way… from what you said, is His Majesty Diederich still not back in government?”
“Yes, unfortunately… His Majesty remains seriously ill and unable to govern. His Highness the Prince continues to act as regent. May the Lord have mercy—may His Majesty soon recover,” Schwartz said with a heavy expression, and Anna followed with a prayer.
“May the Lord have mercy…”
Anna, well prepared for this event, recognized Schwartz and was familiar with the general situation in his country. He was a diplomat from Bainlair, a southern mainland monarchy with considerable strength. Its king, Diederich, was gravely ill and unable to rule, and governance had fallen to Prince Otto—putting the state in an abnormal condition.
“Feels like there’s hardly any place in the world that’s truly peaceful. I used to think chaos was limited to Igwynt, but it seems like seeds of conflict are scattered everywhere…”
Anna thought to herself while continuing her conversation with Schwartz. As time passed, she met with many more foreign representatives. Many of these dignitaries now treated her as a trusted confidante of the future queen. Having been hard to meet during earlier events, she was now actively approached.
At last, Anna finished brief meetings with all those seeking an audience. When she finally stepped out of the Cathedral District, the sun had already begun to clearly sink.
She took a long breath, steadied herself, and looked up at the western sky.
“Time to notify Teacher to get ready…”
…
Following the completion of the coronation ceremony, the newly crowned Queen Isabelle boarded her carriage to begin the traditional return procession. Her royal convoy set off once more from the Hymn Cathedral, moving grandly through the streets back toward the royal palace.
The crowds remained jubilant. As the young queen waved to her cheering subjects, she continued her procession—unaware that danger now brewed in the shadows.
On either side of a street that the procession was about to enter, atop a tall building, a black-clad figure in tight-fitting gear crouched silently. Masked with a black scarf and hidden behind a statue, the figure's gaze locked onto the direction of the queen’s carriage. In his hands, he held a beautifully engraved sniper rifle.
While the cheers of the crowd rose below, the assassin raised his weapon and took aim at the approaching carriage. As the floating lenses on the rifle adjusted automatically, his eyes narrowed, focusing on the luxurious coach drawn by eight white stallions. Holding his breath, he waited for the perfect shot.
But before his target reached his sights, a sharper force found him first—the wind.
Swish!
Sensing sudden danger, the assassin immediately broke off his aim and twisted aside. A split-second later, a formless strike slashed past from behind, leaving a deep cut across the nearby stone statue. The assassin whipped around toward the source—on a rooftop across the way, several figures in black uniforms and iron masks had appeared.
They were Pritt’s Serenity Bureau Hunters.
“Treasonous assassin! In the name of Her Majesty the Queen, drop your weapon and surrender immediately—or be executed!”
This elite team, stationed along the royal procession route, had spotted the threat and now shouted a stern warning. The black-clad man didn’t hesitate. Without a word, he tossed the rifle aside and fled.
He was remarkably agile, vaulting effortlessly between rooftops, racing across the city skyline and hurdling every obstacle. The Hunters gave immediate chase.
“You won’t get away!”
Their speed wasn’t inferior. While sprinting across rooftops, they hurled wind blades at the fleeing assassin—but none found their mark. Then, from above, a thunderous wind howled.
BOOM!
A piercing arrow came hurtling from the sky, striking the fleeing figure with explosive force. Dust billowed. When it cleared, a figure in a more ornate version of the Hunter uniform stood firmly over the downed assassin, pinning him to the ground with a firm grip.
“Captain!”
The pursuing Hunters arrived and saluted with reverence. But the figure, without replying, turned her attention to the fallen assassin. She flipped the body over—completely limp, lifeless.
“Dead again?”
She murmured in frustration. Removing her mask, the one revealed was Misha, her face furrowed in confusion.
“Another one like this… Then, in that case…”
Still muttering, Misha reached into the assassin’s clothing and soon retrieved an envelope.
After inspecting it, she opened it to reveal a blank sheet of paper—with one line of text.
“To welcome truth into the world.”
Beneath that lonely line was a symbol: an upright eye, formed from numerous intricate curves, half-open and filled with an eerie, hollow emptiness.
Frowning, Misha stared at the letter, disturbed.
…
Twilight, northern outskirts of Tivian.
On a quiet tree-lined road, a plain black carriage was slowly making its way toward the southern urban district.
Inside the carriage sat Dorothy, dressed in a tailored gentleman’s black suit and trousers, wearing a formal hat, her hair neatly coiled. She sat cross-legged, her demeanor elegant and poised.
She was on her way from her home to the city to attend the final part of today’s coronation. But during the journey, she received a long-distance communication. Now, resting her chin on her hand, she was deep in mental exchange with someone far away.
“What? Assassins?”
“Yes, Teacher. As of this afternoon, our deployed Serenity Bureau Hunters intercepted twelve assassination attempts in the city. We captured seven of the perpetrators. All of them were targeting the queen—but fortunately, thanks to the Bureau’s efforts, none succeeded.”
Using the information channel, Anna was reporting critical intelligence to Dorothy—a report that piqued Dorothy’s interest.
“Twelve assassination attempts? Who's got such a deep grudge against Isabelle that they’d arrange this many in one go? That’s quite a vendetta… Also, quite a bunch of amateurs. For the Serenity Bureau to intercept them all without even going all out—truly unimpressive…”
Dorothy couldn't help but critique internally. Then, she followed up with a question.
“Did any of the captured assassins reveal anything?”
“No. Every one of them had failsafes—extraordinary means to prevent capture. They all died immediately upon being apprehended. Their souls were shredded and banished deep into the Nether Realm. We can’t even summon them right now, so we’ve been unable to identify who’s behind them.”
Anna’s response genuinely surprised Dorothy.
“Failsafes after capture? And highly effective, too. That’s actually impressive. Hard to believe such a well-prepared group got caught so easily by the Bureau—without the Bureau even deploying its full strength.”
Dorothy’s intrigue deepened. She found the contrast between the assassins’ powerful counter-capture protocols and their low tactical skill fascinating. What kind of force would have that kind of profile?
“Did you find anything else on them?”
“Yes. Every assassin carried an identical letter. It contained a single phrase: ‘To welcome truth into the world.’ Aside from that, there was only a strange symbol—it looked like a vertically aligned eye. I suspect it’s the emblem of their organization.”
“A vertical eye?”
Hearing this, Dorothy fell into thought. Then she continued.
“Show me the letter—render its image.”
“Yes, Teacher.”
Complying with Dorothy’s request, Anna used her memory and the Serenity Bureau’s report to materialize the image of the letter, transmitting it to Dorothy through the information channel.
Soon, an image of an unfolded letter appeared clearly in Dorothy’s mind. She could see the text and the symbol precisely.
“That eye…”
At first, Dorothy examined the letter with curiosity. But just a few seconds later, everything changed.
A sudden, inexplicable sense of dread surged up from deep within her. Then— BOOM —a splitting migraine detonated in her mind, forcibly disrupting her inspection of the letter.
“What—ugh…”
The intense pain made Dorothy clutch her forehead instinctively. She attempted to use her abilities to redirect the pain—but before she could activate anything, the headache suddenly subsided.
However, Dorothy felt no relief—because something far more disturbing had just occurred.
“This is…”
The symbol—the eye—crafted from countless twisted, intricate curves. It was now seared into her mind.
The eye from the letter had been etched into her consciousness. Whether she kept her eyes open or closed, she could still see it. The moment it was received by her brain, it became unerasable. And worse—Dorothy sensed a familiar feeling emanating from it.
“This is… divinity?!”
Indeed. That image invading her mind carried divine power—an external divinity, now leaking into her brain through the encoded symbol she had just read.
It was a memetic attack! The eye symbol was a special memetic construct. When Dorothy perceived it, its embedded mechanism activated, and divine interference began. The information was guiding foreign divinity into her mind.
She recognized the divine flavor clearly. It was the same divinity she herself possessed—Revelation.
It was Revelation divinity that weaponized this information!
That meant—those assassination attempts earlier today? They weren’t meant for Isabelle. They were meant for Dorothy herself.
Some unknown enemy had feigned attempts on Isabelle’s life, knowing they’d be foiled, and ensured that the assassins would carry this memetic data. Then, through Anna, the report would inevitably reach Dorothy. They were aware of the link between Dorothy, Anna, and the new queen—and planned accordingly.
These anomalous messages were similar in delivery to cognitive poison, but entirely different in nature. Their divine rank was much higher, and they caused no direct spiritual damage. That made them undetectable to system-level purging protocols—but they did affect Dorothy in another way.
Realizing she was under a memetic-divine influence, Dorothy instantly shifted into high alert. She raised her defenses to their highest setting, scanning a radius of several kilometers.
And then she sensed it—a threat approaching rapidly from underground. Her electromagnetic sense detected metallic sand shifting unnaturally beneath her.
Danger!
Dorothy shot out of the carriage in an instant—just as two massive black shapes erupted from the ground, obliterating the entire vehicle she had just been riding in.
The two shadows launched skyward, halted in mid-air, and unfurled enormous wings. Their bodies were twisted, monstrous, demonic—yet gleamed with a metallic sheen beneath the sunset light.
They were Aurum Gargoyles.
One of them was the true assassin targeting Dorothy. Her position had been revealed via the memetic attack, and these metal demons—lurking beneath Tivian—had zeroed in on her exact location and launched a surprise attack.
Facing these foes, Dorothy’s expression turned grim. Though they were powerful Crimson-rank entities, they were nothing in front of her when her divine power was fully active.
But this time was different. She quickly realized—her Heaven’s Arbiter divinity was being disrupted. The external Revelation divinity that had entered via the memetic medium was interfering with her internal divine traits.
She couldn’t access her divine abilities!
“The Dark Gold Society… and… the Fallen Revelation?”
“No more minions and posturing—going straight for the general now, huh… interesting…”
Amid this dire situation, Dorothy muttered gravely under her breath.