In an abandoned mansion on the outskirts of East Tivian, within a gradually dimming ritual array, Nephthys slowly rose to her feet. After a brief daze, her expression turned into one of growing astonishment.
"That was... Grandpa and Grandma...
"So Grandpa... that’s how he met Grandma… And Grandma... she was part of an ancient, secluded tribe... Their whole tribe was under the control of that Prince of Tomb Sands... He tried to use them to... awaken an ancient god?! That scepter that’s been protecting our family from curse erosion was originally a treasure of Grandma’s people!"
Pressing a hand to her forehead, Nephthys recounted what she had just seen in her bloodline memories with disbelief. While speaking, she turned her gaze toward Dorothy, who stood nearby with a serious expression.
"Miss Dorothy... did you see that just now? My Grandpa—he only ended up on that so-called Secret Tears Isle because he was manipulated! That woman who called herself a fortune-teller treated him like a pawn, just to sabotage the Prince of Tomb Sands’s scheme... Who is she, really? Do you have any clues, Miss Dorothy?
"Sigh... Grandpa really was a bit weak. Being just a White Ash, of course he was easy to toy with… He should’ve tried harder to at least reach Crimson..."
Nephthys posed her question to Dorothy. At long last, a part of the mystery surrounding the Boyle family had been unraveled today, yet in its wake came even more doubts. After listening to Nephthys’s words, Dorothy fell silent for a moment of deep thought before slowly responding.
"All I can say for now… is that she’s an ancient being, a soul from antiquity on par with Hafdar… a remnant of the First Dynasty. It seems Hafdar isn’t the only active ancient soul from that time."
"An ancient dynastic soul like Hafdar? But she looked so pretty—nothing like those shriveled-up undead... How does she even…
"...maintain herself?"
Rubbing her chin, Nephthys’s thoughts took a sharp turn into contemplation. Hearing her, Dorothy couldn’t help but twitch the corner of her mouth and shake her head slightly before returning to her own inner deliberation.
“In Davis’s memory, that woman who claimed to be a fortune-teller—there’s no mistaking it—she was one of the Sage Kings of the First Dynasty, the former “Gold-rank of Foresight Path,” Shepsuna... Everything matches: the false identity, the motives, the abilities. It’s hard to imagine any other possibility.
“According to Viagetta, Shepsuna was, aside from herself, the only other Sage King who received multiple revelations from Heaven’s Arbiter. She’s someone I can ‘relatively’ trust—and that seems to be true. Clearly, Shepsuna has been secretly monitoring various major legacies of the First Dynasty, intervening whenever necessary to suppress potential disasters. Her stance aligns with Viagetta’s: honoring Heaven’s Arbiter’s last decree, even if it means acting against former comrades...
“Shepsuna’s power must involve partial foresight and manipulation of fate. That talisman she gave Davis was likely crafted back when she was still alive using her Revelation ability. Even after leaving the Foresight Path, it allowed her to preserve some of her past strength. Which means she foresaw her own transition into the undead.
“That talisman granted Davis immense luck, letting a mere White Ash-rank destroy a Gold-rank ritual and still escape unscathed. What a convenient power... I wonder how many such talismans Shepsuna has left?
“Another detail worth noting: when Hafdar fell into madness, Shepsuna didn’t confront him directly. Instead, she opted to secretly manipulate pawns against him. Likely, she didn’t want to sour relations too soon. In one of her past prophecies, she foresaw future crises requiring collaboration with Hafdar—like when Unina seeks Heopolis in Busalet...
“Looks like Shepsuna foresaw far more than I imagined. Could she have also foreseen the emergence of this infant god of Revelation? If she’s got a counterplan for that, it’d be perfect.”
So speculated Dorothy, mentally analyzing the ancient undead queen she had met only once. Having finished her deduction, she finally understood why Viagetta had recommended Shepsuna as the first among the Sage Kings to approach.
With Shepsuna’s analysis concluded, Dorothy shifted her thoughts toward Hafdar’s objectives.
“The ancient recluses living in the Secret Tears Isle must be Viagetta’s descendants. Which means, some among them likely have the potential to become Chosen of Heaven’s Arbiter. Hafdar likely wanted to exploit that, using their divine affinity to stimulate or influence the Revelation divine throne—to fulfill his so-called ‘awakening.’
“Who knows what obsession led him to believe Heaven’s Arbiter hadn’t truly perished...
“If my previous deductions are correct, and Hafdar’s prolonged interference has indeed accelerated the birth of a new infant god atop the Revelation throne, then his urgency in reclaiming the Golden Scepter and capturing Nephthys becomes understandable. He likely wants to strengthen his connection to the infant god.
“That so-called Arbiter godling may already exert some influence over the current world, but only faintly—still weaker than even the Spider Queen and the King of the Underworld. That’s mainly because it lacks a proper Chosen to serve as a conduit for its divine power.
“Though Hafdar has been resurrected, he himself lacks the qualification to serve as Chosen. His desire to reclaim the Golden Scepter might stem from wanting to resolve that very issue...
“And finally… there’s the matter of the Silent Brotherhood. In Davis’s memory, they were the main force opposing Hafdar. This mysterious Shadow society—its purpose, members, and origins all unknown—operates globally…
“Why are they entangled with Hafdar’s plan? That ‘shadow’ ritual array Hafdar constructed was clearly intended to interfere with or hinder them. The moment it was destroyed, they showed up instantly. Are they targeting Hafdar out of past enmity, or is it their duty? From Hafdar’s tone, this Brotherhood has existed a very long time... Could they predate even the Mirror Moon’s ascent to godhood?”
Dorothy gently stroked her chin, her expression turning increasingly serious. She was deeply concerned about this new infant god of Revelation. Just how much divine authority had it inherited was a total mystery. Even if it matched her own level—or had less—it would still be hard to deal with, as it held a divine throne, a divine boost she herself lacked.
Fortunately, for now, the godling’s interference with the physical world was still limited. Dorothy still had ample time to coordinate with other forces and prepare. What she needed now was more intel.
“With Hafdar recently forced to retreat, now’s the time to regroup and fortify... First things first, I need to start contacting the others…”
As she gazed at the snowy landscape outside the window, Dorothy was already calculating in her heart—who should she contact first?
…
Winter falls in Tivian, North District.
Snowflakes drifted slowly from the misty sky, blanketing the rooftops of the city and turning everything into a vast expanse of white. On the once-bustling streets, sanitation workers were scattered about clearing the snow, while thickly bundled pedestrians tread cautiously with each step. The snow that had piled on the roads had long since been trampled by hooves and wheels, leaving behind only slushy, uneven filth.
Crushing through the slush, a black carriage drove slowly down the traffic-slowed city streets, steered steadily by an experienced coachman. Inside the spacious cabin, flames crackled from a small stove. As she added more coal into it, Dorothy spoke up.
“When you left before, the entire power elite of Tivian let out a sigh of relief. They probably never imagined you’d be back again so soon... Thanks to you, quite a few nobles chose to vacation out of Tivian this winter.”
“They can go if they like... They're all insignificant anyway. Did they really think I cared about them? What self-important fools… I’ve got better things to do than deal with their petty little problems.”
Across from Dorothy, sitting comfortably and sipping a cup of hot tea, was Artcheli—short black hair, dressed in a thick winter cloak. After finishing her tea, she placed the cup aside.
“You could pass a list of names to that newly crowned little queen. Have Pritt’s own agencies investigate them. Who knows, it might lead to some unexpected gains.”
Artcheli continued casually. Hearing this, Dorothy raised a brow slightly and replied with a teasing tone.
“Well then, how are things going with your not petty business?”
“Surprisingly smoothly—thanks to that little thing you people came up with.”
As she spoke, Artcheli reached into her cloak and fished something out. On closer inspection, it was a small pendant, fashioned from iron into an abstract diamond-shaped eye.
“Psychic profiling… a mystical ability we’d never even heard of before. It can alter a person’s mind completely without leaving a trace. We’d have been helpless to deal with something like this before. Luckily, you supported us.”
Artcheli spoke seriously, gazing at the pendant. It had recently become one of her most vital tools for investigation.
After helping Dorothy deal with Hafdar and his group, Artcheli hadn’t immediately left Tivian. Instead, she stayed to launch a covert investigation into Hafdar’s infiltration.
The “profiling” of the Bewitching Dreams Path was a nearly undetectable ability. Those subjected to it bore no lingering traces of spiritual abnormality, making it nearly impossible to expose—even under the scrutiny of high-ranking Lantern Beyonders.
To track those affected, Dorothy provided extensive documentation on the profiling ability. Alberto then used her research and combined church Lantern techniques with White Craftsmen’s artifact crafting expertise to develop this mystical item, dubbed Mind Vision.
This item required both Revelation and Lantern spirituality to remain functional and had to be jointly empowered by Dorothy and a high-ranking Lantern Beyonder before it could be used. Its effect was to deeply scan a person’s mental state—checking if they had recently been psychically profiled, if their mental condition showed any abnormal changes, and to detect anomalies only present after profiling. It could also slowly “heal” the profiled state, reversing the effect until it vanished.
At its core, Mind Vision was a specialized artifact infused with Dorothy’s power, tailored for profiling detection. However, after extended use, it required Dorothy’s maintenance to remain effective; otherwise, its power would gradually fade.
In Hafdar’s hands—at Gold-rank—profiling could easily affect even Crimson-rank Beyonders. It was incredibly potent for infiltrating large organizations. The Church had never before encountered this ancient, millennia-lost ability, and once they understood its nature, they took it very seriously. At great expense, they commissioned Dorothy to create several Mind Vision pendants.
Due to limited materials, only a few were made. The Church kept several for internal use—self-inspections and rotating audits of various national authorities—and gave one to Dorothy as payment, granting her independent profiling detection ability.
“If it works this well, all the better… So what’s your progress?”
Dorothy asked with a smile, eyeing the pendant in Artcheli’s hand. Artcheli put it away and responded earnestly.
“We’ve already conducted a large-scale covert screening of Tivian’s upper echelon. We identified twelve individuals as heavily profiled and thirty-seven with light profiling. We’re now monitoring them and gradually removing the profiling influence to eliminate the hidden threat.
“By analyzing their contact patterns during the coronation day, we’ve inferred a sequential chain of profiling—Queen Isabelle was profiled through this chain. She’s at the end of it and, like your student, was targeted that same day.”
Artcheli spoke solemnly. Then, she shifted the topic.
“However, one detail stands out. On the day of the coronation, your little student, Duchess Field, didn’t have any direct contact with Queen Isabelle. In fact, she didn’t interact with anyone else on the known chain either. That little duchess spent most of the day busy with tasks you assigned, keeping her isolated from the upper echelon. She’s not part of the main profiling chain.”
As Artcheli spoke, Dorothy nodded thoughtfully. It was true—on coronation day, Anna had been preoccupied with duties Dorothy arranged. And while Dorothy’s own external persona had been profiled that day, the effects couldn’t transmit through information channels without her consent. So Hafdar couldn’t have used Dorothy as a bridge to profile Anna.
“Yet the results still show that the little duchess was indeed profiled. We checked everyone in Tivian who came into contact with her that day. None of them showed signs of profiling, or they were themselves profiled by her. The origin point of Anna’s profiling hasn’t been found.”
After finishing her report, Artcheli fell silent. Dorothy raised an eyebrow and asked.
“You said earlier—some people Anna met that day are no longer in Tivian?”
“Exactly. According to your student, after the daytime coronation ceremony, she briefly interacted with some foreign delegates before leaving the venue. Several of those envoys departed for their home countries later that same afternoon. By the time I began the investigation, they had already left Tivian…”
Artcheli explained seriously. Dorothy, intrigued, responded with interest.
“So the source of Anna’s profiling might be among those foreign envoys?”
“Highly likely. So I immediately dispatched teams to those countries to track the envoys and perform secret profiling checks. Every one of them passed the screening—except one. One diplomat vanished completely. My people couldn’t even find a trace.”
Artcheli’s expression turned grim, and Dorothy asked curiously.
“Who?”
“The diplomat from Bainlair—Schwarz Kohl.”
Artcheli revealed the country and the name. At that moment, Dorothy conjured up a mental image of the world map and the nation in question.
…
In the sky with scattered clouds, a clear azure hue shone over the land. Stretching across the endless plains, patchwork fields merged seamlessly into the distance. Along the railways rising above the fields, a long iron train roared ahead, spewing thick black smoke as it departed the open countryside and plunged into a dense forest.
Inside one of the forward compartments of the train, Dorothy sat in her seat, wearing a tea-colored pleated long skirt paired with a khaki long-sleeved blouse and a small scarf around her neck. She was cutting and savoring sausages from the plate before her, occasionally glancing out at the high-speed blur of scenery beyond the window.
As she gently dabbed the corners of her mouth with a napkin, the swiftly receding forest outside faded away, replaced by a vast, crystal-clear blue lake. Beyond the lake, a towering, snow-capped mountain loomed. The lake, like a perfect mirror, reflected the majestic mountain, the breathtaking scenery washing over the viewer with a sense of serene awe.
“Oh... quite spectacular. Out of all the places we’ve been in these past two years, this one’s scenery might be the finest.”
Nephthys said frankly as she admired the view from across Dorothy.
“It really is quite lovely.”
Dorothy agreed with a smile, slicing off another piece of grilled sausage and commenting as she ate. Her gaze then shifted to a travel guide placed on the other side of the table. Its cover bore a single word: Bainlair.
Bainlair was an important nation located in the southern part of the main continent—southeast of Falano, northwest of Ivengard. Its territory was predominantly composed of plains and hills, with vast stretches of forest, and bordered by towering barrier mountains that crossed its boundaries. Its natural beauty was both grand and inviting.
Dorothy was currently aboard a high-speed train racing through Bainlair, heading toward its largest city—Whitelinburg.
Facing Hafdar and the Dark Gold Society, Dorothy had no intention of passively hiding in Tivian and relying solely on the lingering influence of the Mirror Moon for defense. Since the enemy had already launched an assault, she intended to strike back.
If Dorothy’s theory was correct, then the Revelation evil god now seated upon the divine throne was still in its infancy. Giving it time to grow would only make it more formidable. If she wanted to win this contest, she would need to strike first and decisively, not allow it time to mature.
With Hafdar and the Dark Coin Noble Noble having just suffered a defeat, now was the perfect opportunity to act. Although leaving Pritt meant losing the protection of the Mirror Moon—and entailed considerable risk—Dorothy knew that remaining in a safe zone would only grow increasingly passive.
Based on Artcheli’s findings in Tivian, Bainlair was likely secretly allied with Hafdar and the Dark Gold Society. Dorothy planned to look for an opening here.
“Judging by the time, we should be arriving soon, Miss Dorothy. That saint from the Church should already be in Whitelinburg, right? Sister Vania’s also there. Are we heading straight to meet them when we arrive?”
Nephthys asked after enjoying the view and taking a bite of mashed potatoes, checking the time as she did.
Before Dorothy’s arrival, Artcheli—acting as the Cardinal of Secrets—had already started laying the groundwork: sending agents ahead into Bainlair to infiltrate and gather intelligence. As the cardinal most closely aligned with Dorothy, Artcheli would continue coordinating with her efforts.
Of the other cardinals on Holy Mount, Hilbert and Amanda had gone to the frontlines in Ufiga and the Northern Shore of Conquest Sea. Alberto was stationed in Ivengard as reinforcements. Kramar and Marco remained behind at Holy Mount for defense.
It was said that the Afterbirth Cult had begun a large-scale infiltration. At sea, and along the jungle fringes of South Ufiga, clashes and skirmishes between the Church’s protection army and the cult’s armed forces were becoming increasingly frequent. Tensions were steadily escalating.
The great crusade between the Church and the Afterbirth Cult was on the verge of erupting. Both sides were making final preparations. The Church had little bandwidth to focus on anything else, and it was already exceptional that they could spare Artcheli to assist Dorothy. However, the Church did consider Dorothy’s mission as an extension of their own warfront. If things became too dire, Alberto could lend support—but given the distance, it might not be timely.
Despite the relatively limited Church backing for this mission, Dorothy wasn’t worried—she had other sources of support beyond the Church.
“We’re not rushing to regroup just yet… I need to meet some other friends first.”
Dorothy replied calmly to Nephthys’s question, which prompted a curious follow-up.
“Other friends?”
…
Time passed quickly, and soon Dorothy and Nephthys’s train arrived at their destination: the great Bainlair city of Whitelinburg, said to be the oldest settlement in the nation.
The train entered the city from the south, crossing a bridge over the moat, passing through an opening carved into the ancient city wall, and finally arriving at the central station. There, Dorothy and Nephthys disembarked. Outside the station, Dorothy turned to Nephthys, who was wheeling a suitcase, and instructed.
“Senior Neph, go ahead and drop our things at the hotel. I’ll be taking a little trip on my own first.”
“You’re going alone, Miss Dorothy...? Will that be alright?”
Nephthys asked with concern.
“Do you think I’ll have trouble?”
Dorothy replied bluntly.
“No… I just think I might…”
Nephthys answered truthfully.
Dorothy was briefly speechless, then told her she’d be keeping an eye out and sent her off to handle the luggage before meeting back up later.
With that, Dorothy set off alone. She hailed a carriage and rode off into the distance. Along the way, she noticed crowds lining the streets—rowdy people shouting slogans and holding up signs in protest. Mounted police patrolled back and forth, maintaining order, and when things got out of hand, they charged into the crowd, causing waves of commotion.
“Looks like things aren’t exactly peaceful here either...”
Dorothy muttered, watching the chaos outside the carriage window while waiting for the driver to detour around the unrest and continue onward.
Whitelinburg was divided into an old town and a new city. Dorothy’s destination lay in the old town—not far from the train station. She arrived quickly. Upon disembarking, she found herself on a winding cobbled street flanked by rows of ancient buildings—brick and timber constructions from the pre-industrial age, with sturdy wooden beams holding together thick stonework. Most rooftops were made of deep russet tiles, creating a vibrant splash of color under the blue sky and white clouds.
The street was quiet, a stark contrast to the earlier chaos she’d seen along the main avenue.
Dorothy walked down the tranquil lane, passing the occasional small shop. The road was sparsely populated. After a short stroll, her eyes settled on a quaint café. Though not large, the café boasted ornate carvings, colorful stained-glass windows, and arched frames. Upstairs were lofts and balconies, giving the place a unique charm.
After briefly examining the sign, Dorothy stepped inside without hesitation. She headed to the second-floor balcony and found a secluded corner near a tangle of ivy, where a slender figure in a gray trench coat sat at a table.
Dorothy walked over slowly and sat across from the figure. Upon seeing her, the man stopped sipping his tea, set the cup down, and revealed a face Dorothy knew well—an elderly man she recognized.
As Dorothy took her seat, the old man paused briefly, then pulled a diamond-shaped abstract eye-shaped badge from his coat and held it up toward her. Dorothy also took out a nearly identical badge and did the same. Both badges glowed faintly with a soft violet light.
After confirming there were no signs of profiling on the man before her, Dorothy silently put away the badge. On the other side, the elderly man did the same, then spoke respectfully.
“Ah… Welcome, Miss Mayschoss… or perhaps I should now address you as the Honored Divine-blooded Lady.”
Seeing Dorothy seated across from him, Aldrich smiled faintly and made to stand and bow, but Dorothy immediately stopped him.
“Let’s not. No need to attract attention. It’s better for us to stay low-profile for now.”
“As you say, Your Grace…”
Aldrich replied, settling back into his seat as Dorothy opened the conversation with a warm greeting.
“It’s been a while, Headmaster. How have you been? Found anything worthwhile during your travels?”
“In terms of gains, yes—I found a few good things that helped make my abilities more stable, more enduring... Back in Igwynt, Your Grace didn’t misplace your trust in me. Hopefully this old man won’t become a burden to you this time either.”
Aldrich chuckled, to which Dorothy calmly replied.
“Oh, don’t say that, Headmaster. If it hadn’t been for your help in Igwynt back then, I wouldn’t have known what to do. You were the one who guided me onto the Beyonder path, after all.”
“Heh… I never expected that clever little girl with secrets would become what you are today in such a short time… I knew you were extraordinary, but I didn’t anticipate it would reach such heights.
“When we first parted, you had just stepped into the mysticism world. The second time we met, you had already become a long-liver. I thought our third meeting might find you an immortal—but I didn’t expect reality to be even more astonishing. You’ve already stepped into the domain of gods before even becoming an immortal… In hindsight, being able to guide you back then was this old man’s great honor.”
Aldrich smiled, deeply moved by the thought, while Dorothy waved her hand lightly.
“All right, that’s enough catching up for now. Let’s get to the point. Headmaster, can I reconfirm the current status and stance of the Craftsmen’s Guild?”
Dorothy’s tone turned serious, and Aldrich responded with the same solemnity.
“The Craftsmen’s Guild has resolved to go to full-scale war with the Dark Gold Society. After news of your heavy blow against the Dark Coin Noble in Tivian reached us, the Golden Triad issued mobilization orders to all guild members across the world willing to respond. We’ve launched raids on confirmed Dark Gold strongholds—war has broken out on multiple fronts…
“Their strongholds are being dismantled one by one. Though we’ve lost large sections of the market and are in full retreat strategically, not a single battlefield report so far has indicated any Crimson-rank resistance. Dark Gold’s top combatants and its leader, the Dark Coin Noble, have seemingly vanished. We’re scouring for their trail… until the Church passed along intelligence about Bainlair.”
Dorothy knew what came next. Upon learning that Bainlair might be harboring clues related to the Dark Coin Noble, the Craftsmen’s Guild decisively sent reinforcements to assist both her and the Church—Aldrich among them.
Due to the Dark Gold Society’s heavy involvement in commerce, Dorothy, the Church, and the Craftsmen’s Guild had all chosen Whitelinburg, Bainlair’s largest city, as the starting point of their investigation—this was the place most likely to yield leads.
“Our stance is clear,” Aldrich said.
“We aim to destroy the Dark Gold Society completely. If possible, we will kill the Dark Coin Noble. Should we confirm his whereabouts, the Golden Triad will personally intervene.”
Having made the Craftsmen’s Guild’s position clear, Aldrich watched as Dorothy nodded silently, then asked.
“You arrived in Whitelinburg before I did. I assume you’ve already conducted an initial round of intel gathering? Any findings?”
Dorothy had barely finished asking when a stranger’s voice spoke up beside them.
“Allow me to answer that, Your Grace.”
Turning, Dorothy saw a man in a tidy suit and low-brimmed bowler hat. He was slightly portly, with neatly combed black hair and a carefully maintained chevron mustache. Leaning on a cane, he gave Dorothy a respectful nod.
“This is Rudolf Haydn,” Aldrich introduced.
“Another agent sent by the Guild to assist—an experienced Crimson-rank Beyonder. He arrived even earlier than I did and knows the local situation well.”
Dorothy didn’t respond right away. Instead, she took out her Mind Vision badge again and conducted a full scan on Rudolf. After confirming there were no signs of profiling, she said calmly.
“Please, have a seat, Mr. Rudolf. Go ahead and share what you’ve learned over the past few days.”
“Thank you, Your Grace…”
After a simple reply, Rudolf sat across from them. He glanced out at the old street beyond the balcony, then began his report seriously.
“From what I’ve observed these past days, if there’s any suspicious activity in Bainlair that may be tied to the Dark Gold Society, it likely revolves around one man—Otto.”
“Otto? The regent prince?”
Dorothy asked. Aldrich nodded.
“That’s right. Prince Otto. King Diederich II has been gravely ill and unable to govern for quite some time, so Otto has retained control. But lately, his power grabs have grown even more aggressive…”
“Indeed,” Rudolf added.
“Recently, Prince Otto has been conducting sweeping purges of dissenters in court and consolidating authority. He’s done things like this before, but never with such intensity. Just this month alone, five ministers have been replaced—a record high in Bainlair’s history.
“More importantly, the nation seems to be undergoing a severe financial crisis. Otto initiated a drastic tax hike and introduced seventeen new tax types in one move. That’s sparked nationwide protests and widespread unrest…”
As Rudolf spoke, Dorothy narrowed her eyes and asked sharply.
“Rapid centralization… sharp tax increases… These only began recently?”
“Yes,” Rudolf confirmed.
“Otto has ruled as regent for years. Though he’s always leaned authoritarian, never before has he acted this abruptly or severely. I believe something must have spurred him into this—perhaps Your Grace’s blow to the Dark Coin Noble in Tivian.”
Dorothy nodded slightly. Rudolf continued with gravity.
“In short, Bainlair’s situation is growing increasingly unstable. Factions opposing Otto are quietly forming across the nation. The most prominent of them is led by King Diederich’s son, Prince Sigmund. He’s become the primary opposition figure, and Otto sees him as a threat. Tensions between them are escalating rapidly…”
…
Southern shore of the Conquest Sea, North Ufiga Continent.
Capital of the Republic of Addus, Yadith.
The current ruler of Addus, Shadi, stood in the office of his official residence, staring grimly at a letter on his desk. Upon seeing the symbol of the Radiance Church on its seal, he frowned deeply.
“A Holy War… with those southern cults?
“Tch… Why did this have to happen just as the country was beginning reconstruction? What now…”
He muttered in frustration as he read the diplomatic letter from Holy Mount. The message came at a time when national affairs already had Shadi in disarray.
Due to Unina’s emergence, a Holy War between the Radiance Church and the three cults—chief among them the Afterbirth Cult—had become inevitable. The cult’s main forces were entrenched in the dense jungles of South Ufiga, while the Church controlled the main continent and held influence over much of North Ufiga. This meant the likely battlegrounds of the Holy War would be North Ufiga and the Conquest Sea region. For any nation or people living there, it would be catastrophic.
The Church’s wartime preparations were now in full swing, with military deployments occurring across the region—especially in North Ufiga.
As a North Ufiga nation, Addus was all but certain to be affected. Holy Mount had already sent a diplomatic note requesting to station a contingent of the Church’s Protection Army in Addus, to form a defensive line against southern threats. Shadi was torn.
Emotionally, he didn’t want foreign troops stationed within his borders. Such a move could provoke the Afterbirth Cult into attacking, turning Addus into a battlefield when it might otherwise have been spared.
On the other hand, once the Holy War began, the Afterbirth Cult wouldn’t only target the Church—it would also see Addus as a strategic objective. Without the Protection Army, Addus might not be able to withstand the cult’s assault.
One option meant inviting the cult’s wrath; the other left them defenseless if war came. After weighing the dilemma, Shadi finally turned and said,
“Setut… What do you think we should do?”
As usual, Shadi sought counsel from the ancient soul who had long accompanied him. But this time, there was no rasping reply. The office remained completely silent.
“Tch… almost forgot…”
Realizing something suddenly, Shadi slapped his forehead with a sigh. He recalled that Setut had left him not long ago.
Recently, Shadi had been in communication with the “Heaven’s Arbiter” Sect—contact established through a mysterious text he carried after the Yadith incident. They had sent over heavily encoded information about the Bewitching Dreams Path, Heaven’s Arbiter, and other dangerous concepts that contained potent cognitive poison. Shadi couldn’t comprehend it—but Setut could.
After reading it, Setut fell silent for a long while. Then he announced he needed to leave temporarily for some “important matter” and left without explanation. Shadi hadn’t gotten used to making decisions without his advisor since.
“Sigh… Hope you come back soon…”
Shadi murmured wistfully. Then he turned back to the letter, stared at the Church’s emblem again, and after a long internal struggle, finally picked up his pen and began to write a reply—accepting the Church’s request to station troops.
…
Northern Ufiga — Deep within a desolate, uninhabited desert.
The scorching sun hung high in the sky, its blazing rays beating down upon the endless yellow sands. Yet in the heart of this vast lifeless expanse, a splash of green unexpectedly emerged.
It was an oasis valley. Cool, clear spring water bubbled up from underground, forming lakes and streams that nourished the land. Verdant grass and dense woodlands flourished in the valley. Birds called to each other between the trees, flowers bloomed along the lake’s edge—filling the valley with an air of tranquil beauty.
Within the valley, a translucent spectral figure adorned in ornate jewelry floated silently. Before him lay a pristine desert lake, and from the ghostly flames flickering within his eye sockets, he gazed into the reflection upon the water’s surface.
“Shepsuna... I’ve come...”
His voice was hoarse as he addressed the still lake, his words echoing through the secluded valley—yet no reply came.
“Shepsuna?”
Setut hovered in place for a long while. Still hearing nothing, he called out again. But once more, there was no response. At this, the ghostly flames within his eyes began to flicker faster—more anxiously.
After lingering at the lakeside a while longer, Setut seemed to finally lose patience. Rising abruptly, he plunged straight into the water and began diving down.
Deeper and deeper he descended—until, far beneath the surface, a grand temple emerged amidst the swaying lake grass. Setut entered the temple and continued forward, phasing through physical barriers, descending into an underground passage untouched by water.
He wandered through the long, winding subterranean corridors of the crypt. Numerous traps and wards were triggered, but each was effortlessly dispelled by him. After pushing through countless obstacles, he finally arrived at the destination: the temple’s central burial chamber—or rather… a great funerary hall.
Rows of massive stone pillars supported a vast underground space. Eternal ever-burning lamps cast a dim, steady glow across the chamber. Towering like an obelisk in the center was a grand structure, atop which rested a single, diminutive stone sarcophagus.
Upon entering the chamber, Setut flew directly toward the coffin. Examining it closely, he discovered—there was nothing inside.
Staring at the empty sarcophagus, he fell silent for a long moment. Then, without a word, he began searching the rest of the funerary hall. At the base of the obelisk-like structure, he found something that left him in disbelief.
A corpse—shredded into countless fragments.
Dry, withered body parts were scattered everywhere. Pristine wrappings had been torn apart; once-elegant silk now lay in shredded tatters. Gold and silver jewelry were all tarnished and dulled. A once-beautiful veil still clung to a severed head—but the head was impaled on one of the many rusted spears embedded throughout the tomb. The hollow eye sockets of the skull were utterly devoid of light.
Staring at the ruined remains, Setut was silent for a long time before he finally whispered to himself.
“Shepsuna…”