In the heartlands of the southern continent, the sky long shrouded in mist was now swept clean by blazing light. Under the intense heat and glare, the dense forest was swiftly annihilated—so rapidly, in fact, that it skipped the burning phase entirely, vaporized into the air in an instant.
When the light faded and the heat cooled, and the blinding sky returned to normal, the land below had transformed completely.
The once-lush forest had vanished, replaced by a scorched wasteland stretching for thousands of kilometers. Occasionally, a withered, shriveled blackened root jutted from the ground, but beyond that was only cracked earth and barren rock, utterly devoid of life.
At the epicenter of the divine light’s strike—where once stood a majestic temple atop a colossal tree stump—everything had changed. That exquisitely crafted temple was gone without a trace, and the immense stump itself had become a mass of twisted, blackened carbon.
Within the reach of this destructive brilliance, all life in a region hundreds of kilometers across appeared utterly erased. Yet that was far from the truth.
Suddenly, the dead land began to tremble. As the tremors intensified, cracks split the earth, and from within the fissures surged torrents of crimson blood, flooding across the desiccated soil.
In an instant, the scorched land was drenched in blood, the surging tide turning into a crimson sea that reflected the blazing sun above, staining its reflection red.
Then, ripples broke across the blood sea’s surface—followed by a wild eruption. Countless objects shot forth from the waves, as though thousands of trees were sprouting in full bloom. But a closer look revealed they weren’t trees—they were human arms and legs!
Limbs. Countless human limbs grew from the blood like rapidly maturing trees. They varied wildly in size: some over ten meters long, like the limbs of giants; others less than half a meter, child-sized. Each one was vividly red—not from bloodstains, but because they had no skin. Exposed muscles and blood vessels covered them entirely, making them grotesque to behold.
These skinless limbs thrashed madly in the air before grabbing each other—hands gripping hands, feet pressing onto legs—frantically assembling into something. In no time, a massive structure began to form where the temple once stood.
It was a grotesque cathedral of flesh and limbs, soaring hundreds of meters high. Interwoven limbs formed pillars, walls, spires—an entire hall of monstrous construction. Its structure mimicked the form of the original elven temple but was utterly horrific in appearance.
This—this was the true temple of the Mother of Chalice. After the destruction of her false facade, her real sanctuary emerged from below, now revealed to all the world—and to the watchful gaze descending from the heavens.
The temple of blood and limbs stood exposed to the world, earning the heavens’ contempt. As the sun atop the sky once again flared with divine light, purifying radiance descended to smite this abomination that had no place in the mortal realm.
But just as that divine light was about to strike, a strange phenomenon erupted from the blood temple. The blood pool beneath it churned violently, and a torrent of blood surged upward, enveloping the entire structure in a blood-red membrane, shielding it completely.
The divine light slammed into the membrane, the scorching heat boiling the blood—but no matter how high the temperature rose, it did not vaporize. The protective blood veil fully withstood the light that had vaporized everything before it. The purifying rays were repelled without breaking through even a sliver of the barrier, until at last they faded entirely.
“You cannot stop this! Followers of the False Sun! This is the grand tide of fate! All who resist shall be crushed beneath it!”
Atop the blood temple’s square, still clad in her nun's habit, Unina spread her arms wide and cried out with exultation upon witnessing the failed divine strike.
“Hmph…”
Far away, atop Holy Mount, within the grand sanctuary of the Holy Cathedral, the Church’s Inquisition Cardinal Kramar gave a cold snort. Gripping his sacred staff, he fixed his eyes on the distant image revealed on the floor and spoke with grim authority.
“Arrogant, wicked heretics… Today, the Holy Army arrives. You and your cult shall be destroyed without end, damned for all eternity.”
As Kramar spoke, the smooth marble floor of the cathedral shimmered with divine light, revealing yet more distant visions. Both he and the nearby Cardinal of Asceticism, Marco, scrutinized the scenes carefully.
Each image depicted the Church’s Holy War legions attacking the Mother of Chalice’s territory from various directions. Just earlier, the mighty Church forces had launched a full-scale assault on the cult’s headquarters deep in the southern lands of Ufiga.
At the southern tip of North Ufiga, above the dense jungles south of Busalet, hundreds of steel airships soared in tight formation. Led by the Saint Steel Vessel: Annihilation Nun, they rained down devastating firepower upon the ground. Explosive shells, both material and energetic, bombarded the jungle below, igniting widespread infernos and dispersing the thick miasma clouding the canopy.
Within the jungle, black clouds continuously surged upward—revealed upon closer inspection to be uncountable hordes of locusts carrying deadly plagues. They swarmed toward the fleet above, only to be engulfed by walls of flame unleashed by flamethrowers from the airships. Occasionally, a particularly resilient giant insect would dart past the firestorm in a surprise attack, but even these were sniped mid-air by the fleet’s precision weapons.
Beneath the fleet marched a massive land army: knights in heavy rune armor wielding flaming longswords advanced steadily, alongside five- to six-meter-tall bipedal mechs. These steam-powered machines, clearly bearing the technological imprint of the White Craftsmen’s Guild, used flamethrowers on their arms to purge the remnants of the jungle scorched by the aerial bombardment.
From these remains surged massive insects—some no larger than rice grains, attacking in swarms; others as large as vehicles, slashing with razor-sharp pincers. The knights and mechs responded without mercy, scorching and slashing them down with fire and flame-blades.
At times, rust-colored fungal weapons rose from the jungle, attempting to spread corrosive clouds to block incoming bombardment—but the moment they formed, sniper ships struck with pinpoint beams, annihilating them instantly.
Occasionally, elite insect swarms with heat resistance broke through the fiery curtain to strike the warriors below, corroding armor and spreading disease. Yet they were quickly sucked into filtration vents of the mechs and incinerated in their internal furnaces. Those few warriors who fell ill glowed with divine blessings and swiftly recovered. Rearmed with new enchanted armor airdropped from logistics ships, they rejoined the fray.
On the eastern plains of South Ufiga, an endless expanse of grassland hosted yet another aerial fleet. But here, the ground ahead was not green—it was pitch black.
A surging tide of black swept across the grasslands in relentless waves. These were beasts—countless jet-black monsters covered in bristling fur, snarling as they swarmed forward. They were met by cannon fire from the ships above—and by tanks thundering across the ground behind them.
Tank treads roared, cannons blazed. The Church’s armored corps, clad in scripture-inscribed armor, smashed through the charging beasts. Flesh and blood could not contend with steel and flame. The armored divisions advanced relentlessly, piercing deeper into the cult’s stronghold.
At times, towering twin-headed beasts over ten meters tall withstood the bombardment, hurling themselves skyward to assault the ships—only to be cleaved apart midair by invisible slashes or obliterated by heavy artillery descending from above.
In western South Ufiga, black smoke rolled across the vast Windwave Bay, darkening the blue ocean. Beneath that smoke sailed the majestic navy, led by cathedral-style warships towing colossal scripture-bound cannons. These holy artillery pieces roared with divine fury, shelling targets far inland. Hanging scrolls of scripture swayed with each thunderous shot, and smaller ships swarmed around to provide protection.
From the clouds, bizarre winged creatures dove at high speed, attempting to strike the fleet—only to be shredded by the fleet’s dense aerial firepower. Below, deep-sea horrors surged upward from the abyss, only to be met with depth charges dropped from escort vessels. The resulting blasts tore the monsters to pieces, thwarting their rise.
Occasionally, powerful Beyonders lurking in the deep sea tried to manipulate ocean currents, forming whirlpools and tidal waves in an attempt to capsize the surface fleet. However, whenever this occurred, beams of light would rain down from the sky, precisely targeting their location. Though they tried to dissolve into the waves to evade these strikes, the bottoms of the fleet’s ships would immediately light up with intricate Lantern spell arrays, generating scorching heat that rapidly conducted through the waters of the entire bay—boiling vast amounts of seawater and causing great agony to the Water-based Beyonders whose bodies had become one with the sea.
Three fronts, three main attack directions. The Church’s triple-pronged campaign continued its steady advance toward the Mother of Chalice’s heartland. And even farther behind the Church’s lines—on the main continent—a covert war had also begun.
As fierce battles raged across the southern continent, in the northern mainland, in Falano, the residential districts of Flottes remained seemingly peaceful. Countless residents went about their daily lives—working, living, just like usual. But suddenly, a noblewoman walking along the street furrowed her brow and clutched her stomach. Just as she tried to find something to support her weakening body, the overwhelming nausea that had struck her abruptly vanished. When she raised her head to look around, she found many others frozen in place with similarly confused expressions—apparently having felt the same thing.
Meanwhile, beneath the city of Flottes, within the sewers, Falano’s secret police—assisted by the Church—worked through the disgusting, insect-infested environment to apprehend the lurking agents of the cult who had remained in hiding.
In the capital of Tivian, the city of Pritt, everything seemed normal on the surface. Citizens worked… lived… prayed. Aside from the occasional strange change in wind patterns, there appeared to be nothing amiss. Unbeknownst to them, however, at the edges of the city, Serenity Bureau Hunters—led by royal forces—had just concluded a brutal battle, slaying the lurking black beasts within the city using cold steel.
In Adria, the scenic tourist city of Ivengard, residents continued to welcome visitors from around the world under fair skies. As the tourists traveled between streets by boat, they remained oblivious to the chase unfolding beneath them—in the intricate web of canals beneath the city, members of the Deepguard were engaged in a high-speed pursuit, using precise intelligence to hunt down the saboteurs hiding in the waterways.
The Church had spent significant time preparing for its crusade against the Mother of Chalice, but the cult had also invested heavily in planning their response. Their most effective countermeasure was to launch mass subversion operations across the mainland, triggering panic, disaster, and death in major cities to disrupt the Church’s base of faith and divert combat forces away from the southern front.
To implement this plan, the cult had even withdrawn and concealed their earlier mainland assets to lull the Church into complacency. Every detail had been prepared with utmost care.
But their scheme did not go as planned… because Dorothy, having returned from the shattered worlds, had become an immensely powerful divine being—nearly a true god. Her will could easily cover the entire continent, scanning the minds of millions in a city without raising suspicion. With this divine power, combined with the Church’s formidable intelligence network, there was nowhere for the cult’s infiltrators to hide.
Thanks to Dorothy, before the war had even begun, the Church had already fully mapped out the cult’s embedded agents on the mainland. At the moment the war broke out, the Church coordinated with the secret police of various nations to eliminate these operatives in pre-emptive strikes, neutralizing them before they could enact any sabotage.
For previously planted sabotage plans—such as spreading plague through urban water systems by followers of the Plague Vulture—the Church had already taken preventative measures. For instance, they had caused potential targets to ingest antibodies in advance, including the BS61-1 strain—now considered a perfect antibiotic—which was highly effective against the various plagues spread by the cult’s Filth Coven in major cities.
To stabilize the rear and assist the secret police in rooting out infiltrators, the Church had deliberately refrained from redeploying their regional archbishops en masse to the Holy War. As a result, on the battlefield, they might lack Crimson-rank powerhouses compared to the cult—but even so, the Church’s Holy Army held a clear advantage on all three fronts. This was thanks in large part to the White Craftsmen’s Guild, who had worked around the clock to build an immense number of war machines for the Church.
Saint Steel warships, mechs, tanks, battle cruisers—with the Craftsmen's intense support, in just one year, the number of war machines in the Church's arsenal had increased seven- to eightfold. The entire army was now fully armored, with even the lowest-ranking foot soldiers equipped with mystical power armor. Wearing such armor, an apprentice could fight at peak White Ash-rank strength—and even survive one or two Crimson-rank strikes from foes like direwolves.
Beyond armor, firepower had also seen vast expansion. Saint Steel platforms and similar heavy artillery had increased fivefold, and firepower capable of threatening Crimson-rank entities had tripled. This overwhelming firepower, combined with an army whose lowest combat rank was peak White Ash, and backed by specialized equipment, allowed the Church to dominate the battlefield even without matching the cult’s Crimson-rank forces.
Given the current trajectory, if the Mother of Chalice didn’t reveal some new trump card, it would only be a matter of time before their entire line collapsed. And clearly, the cult’s upper echelon knew it.
In the dense forests of the northern front, the scorched earth suddenly began to quake. Wide fissures opened, and from them spewed thick green mist—a type the Holy Warriors immediately recognized: a fungal fog composed of countless deadly bacterial spores!
The soldiers and mechs immediately unleashed waves of fire from their flamethrowers to burn the spreading miasma. But this time, the fog was vast—not only rising from the cracks but seeping from the very soil itself, spreading into every corner of the air. There was simply too much of it to burn. The fog rapidly corroded the warriors’ armor. When their flesh—sealed within their gear—touched these deadly pathogens, death swiftly followed.
Just then, the Annihilation Nun—the Church’s largest Saint Steel Vessel—emitted a gentle radiance from above. Bathed in this light, the infected warriors resisted the plague’s invasion. Discarding their ruined weapons, they caught freshly airdropped gear from the sky, reignited their flames, and pressed on. When their equipment corroded again, they caught the next set. Under that soft halo, their flesh became stronger than steel.
BOOM!
Sensing something, the Annihilation Nun unleashed a massive ground-burst shell toward a forest zone. With a thunderous explosion, the soil and vegetation were blasted high into the air—revealing what lay beneath.
It was a massive, grotesque worm-like creature, over fifty meters long, with a pale-yellow body undulating in its subterranean lair. Protruding from its flesh were countless human limbs used as tendrils. Along its bloated flanks grew rows of giant eyeballs, which spun madly in their sockets.
The moment it was forced into the open, the creature let out an ear-piercing screech. Its body then began to swell and rupture, sprouting multiple pairs of membranous insect wings. As its mass compressed and surged backward, its tail end inflated grotesquely—becoming an enormous, misshapen bloated abdomen.
With its massive wings buzzing rapidly, it launched itself into the sky, spewing deadly plague mist from above.
“Mother of Plague Larva… Anayabaka…”
Murmured Amanda, cloaked in her grand cardinal’s robes, standing on the bridge of the Annihilation Nun. Frowning at the monstrous insect soaring toward the heavens, a gentle light enveloped her form as a halo began to manifest around her.
Meanwhile, on the eastern plains, the Church’s massive armored divisions—protected by the air fleet—continued their relentless advance. Any creature that tried to stop them was crushed beneath treads, their blood and flesh mingling with soil and grass.
“ROAR!!!”
But just as the armored columns were pushing forward without resistance, a deafening, soul-shaking roar thundered down from the clouded heavens above. The sonic blast surged like waves through the air, shaking the hearts of every being below.
Wherever it passed, all humans felt a terror rising from deep within. Even with mental stability sigils for protection, the sheer force of that roar shattered their resolve and rattled their minds.
For a moment, countless mortals within the entire legion were consumed by overwhelming panic induced by the roar. Tanks that had been moving in orderly formations began to veer off course due to panicked drivers, crashing into each other. The fleet in the sky also teetered on the brink of collapse as their operators lost composure—were it not for the automated systems taking over, many of the airships might have plummeted from the sky.
In contrast, the charging black beasts became even more frenzied and violent under the sharp howls. They charged faster, more recklessly, fearlessly ramming into the now-chaotic armored lines. With sharpened claws and fangs, they tore through the paralyzed tanks, their limbs regrowing at high speed after breaking from impact.
The source of the roaring in the sky grew ever closer. When the thick clouds were torn apart by a tremendous force descending from above, the soldiers could finally see what had made that terrifying sound—an enormous black mass plummeting from the sky, trailing brilliant fire from atmospheric friction. It emitted an ear-piercing screech as it fell, its trajectory locked with unerring precision onto the largest Saint Steel Vessel among the flying fleet.
BOOM!
Due to the chaos caused by the fearsome roar, the fleet failed to mount any effective interception. The black mass crashed precisely into the targeted Saint Steel Vessel. The sheer impact tore the massive ship apart midair. With a deafening explosion, the black mass slammed into the battlefield below, releasing a shockwave that instantly obliterated and hurled away tanks and beasts alike across a wide radius.
From the colossal crater it left behind, a towering black beast slowly rose—standing 70 to 80 meters tall, with two legs and three enormous wolf heads, its body covered in dark red, cryptic patterns. After landing, it raised its heads to gaze at the burning wreckage of the destroyed Saint Steel Vessel falling from the sky and let out a triumphant roar.
But that victory howl didn’t last long. Suddenly, the battlefield sky warped and blurred, and in a burst of shifting light and shadow, the entire scene transformed. The airborne fleet was once again neatly arrayed in formation, and the very same massive flagship that had supposedly been destroyed was floating intact in the air. The falling wreckage vanished like an illusion.
“!”
Sensing something amiss, the wolf-shaped monster prepared to leap toward the sky again—but just as it moved, it felt a sharp, searing pain across its body. Looking down, it was shocked to discover that a mass of dense, opaque shadow had gathered beneath its feet. From the shadow, dozens of razor-sharp shadowy spikes had erupted, impaling and pinning its body. It was trapped—completely immobilized.
Realizing the gravity of the situation, the wolf beast began to struggle violently. But just then, from above—from the deck of the Saint Steel flagship, Twilight Devotion—a swift shadow dropped from the sky, unleashing an invisible, blindingly fast slash.
As the shadow passed the wolf monster’s side, all three of its giant heads were severed at once, crashing to the ground below.
“Wolfthroat… Gaytt… So you really came to this front…”
Standing amidst the battlefield, the black-haired girl, Artcheli, shook off the nonexistent blood from her blade and slowly turned to face the headless beast impaled in shadow. She spoke in a low voice. But after a brief silence, the three severed wolf heads on the ground reopened their blood-drenched jaws—and unleashed another round of furious howls.
The northern and eastern fronts had both seen drastic shifts caused by powerful interventions—and the western front was no exception.
In the vast bay, the once-boiling seawater suddenly took on an ominous crimson hue, as if millions of tons of blood had been poured into the ocean. The waters across the entire bay had become blood-red.
Once the seawater turned to this sinister blood, the boiling ceased immediately. The magical arrays inscribed beneath the fleet’s hulls could no longer heat the ocean, giving the deep-sea lurkers their opportunity to strike.
Whirlpools, massive waves—the sea, now blood-colored, churned violently. Surging tides of blood tossed the ships above into chaos. In an instant, several smaller vessels were capsized, their crews swallowed by the raging sea. The entire fleet was on the verge of disaster.
But at that critical moment, several massive, incandescent lances of light formed in the sky. Blazing hot, they plunged straight down into the crimson sea. Upon contact, the blood sea erupted in turmoil once more—then began to boil again. The violent currents gradually calmed in the wake of the boiling.
Above, on the deck of the Saint Steel Vessel: World-Cleansing Flame, Hilbert gazed down at the now-stabilizing, boiling blood sea and shouted sternly.
“Show yourself! Face me! Blood of the Abyssal Serpent—Hawkochdo! I am your opponent!”
Responding to Hilbert’s call, the sea below surged again. A massive serpent-like entity formed entirely of blood rose from the surface, climbing higher and higher until its massive head reached the level of the Saint Steel Vessel. Its sinister, blood-red eyes stared directly into Hilbert’s.
Thanks to the intervention of Gold-rank beings, the Mother of Chalice cult had managed to withstand the Holy Army’s assault on all three fronts. Though they hadn’t reversed the disadvantage, they had successfully slowed the offensive.
However, what the cult had revealed thus far was far from their full hand. Having acquired the Crimson Holy Mother and a sufficient amount of Flower Goddess’s power, they had more trump cards to play.
“Heh… Such thorough preparations… But if you think this alone can stop the coming of the Great Mother, you’re gravely mistaken…”
Within the Blood-Limb Temple in the cult’s sacred land, standing at the center of a massive blood-red ritual array, Unina murmured with a sinister smile after sensing the situation on the frontlines. Then, she brought her hands together and assumed a posture of prayer.
“With the blasphemous seal weakened, the three Great Progenies have already borne fruit. Now, let me show you… the manifestation of that fruit. Behold the hunger… of the Bloodline of Chalice…”
As Unina prayed, countless thin blood threads spread from her body, rapidly fanning out in all directions. They seeped into the air—and even the fabric of space itself—racing outward at incredible speed.
At the same time, across the skies above all three battlefronts… and even in distant parts of the world… countless strands of blood thread emerged in the sky, spreading rapidly and clustering into bloody spatial webs, each exuding an unmistakable otherworldly aura.
“Something… something’s coming…”
On a southern coast of Ivengard, Vania, clad in a pristine nun’s robe, stared in astonishment at the blood threads appearing in the sky. She could sense that behind those invading spatial filaments lurked powerful beings from beyond—beings with divinity.
She was not wrong—what was descending were Apostles! Countless apostles, evolved from the Three Gods of Chalice, each one once repelled from the world by powerful seals. But ever since the Three Gods initiated their ritual, that seal had started to weaken.
Though it could still restrain the Mother of Chalice, the suppression over the apostles—and even over the Three Gods themselves—had significantly weakened. Unina could now summon numerous Apostles of Chalice directly into the world. If they descended, even a Holy Army several times larger wouldn't be enough to stop them!
“Hmph…”
At the summit of Holy Mount, within the sacred Grand Cathedral, Inquisition Cardinal Kramar let out a cold snort after sensing the disturbances across the world. He turned toward Marco.
“Let us begin.”
At Kramar’s words, Marco silently nodded. He stepped forward alone into a prepared ritual array within the Grand Cathedral, seated himself cross-legged, and began chanting solemnly.
As Marco chanted, a gentle light filled the entire Grand Cathedral. The ritual beneath him lit up with countless glowing threads, spreading rapidly outward from the array’s center—spreading beyond the Cathedral and throughout the entirety of Holy Mount.
As the array expanded, a soft halo enveloped all of Holy Mount. Within that light, Kramar’s body turned ethereal—and began to rapidly grow.
Within seconds, the now-spectral Kramar shot out of the Cathedral, his enlarged form occupying the entire summit of Holy Mount. As he grew, his garments and crown became more luxurious and extravagant, his face beneath the heavy crown became a faceless iron mask, countless plates etched with scriptural laws and commandments manifested around him, great wings unfurled from his back, and above his head appeared an iron angelic halo engraved with sacred laws…
With the help of Holy Mount’s emergency defense systems, the Divine Sentinel, Kramar, had completed his apostle transformation—he had now become an apostle himself. Transformed into a Seraph, he floated a tablet of commandments before him with a wave of his hand and, wearing his faceless, dignified iron mask, issued a proclamation.
“This realm is of Light—of the Lord’s dominion. Let no evil trespass!”
Kramar’s solemn decree echoed instantly across the entire domain. In its wake, the barriers of the realm greatly intensified. Across the skies of the world, the clusters of blood threads that had been encroaching from beyond began to rapidly retract. Clearly, the apostles attempting to invade from beyond were being severely obstructed.
“Angel’s Commandments, is it? Hmph… Do you really think a single angel’s declaration can halt the countless ravenous Bloodline Apostles from beyond?”
Upon hearing Kramar’s declaration, Unina sneered in the Blood-Limb Temple. Just as her mocking voice fell, the retreating blood threads across the world suddenly surged back—and at the same time, cracks began to spider across the commandment tablet before Kramar. His angelic body trembled violently, showing signs of instability.
“This is bad… there are too many of them…”
Kramar could clearly feel himself faltering. The apostles trying to invade from beyond were simply too numerous. A single angel, even one of his level, could not stop the massive onslaught of “Chalice” apostles. At this rate, the barrier he maintained was bound to collapse.
In the various inner realms outside the material world, apostles born from the Three Gods of Chalice were now frenzied, clawing at the dimensional fissures that led to the present world, seeking to break through the weakening walls and feast upon the core domain of the universe.
In the lightless deep-sea realm, one of the Abyssal Serpent’s bloodline offspring—a monstrous hybrid of whale and serpent—Haimohois, was smashing its colossal body against the spatial barrier. As more and more cracks formed and Kramar’s angelic wall grew weaker, a sudden and unexpected event broke its momentum.
A falling star—a blazing, incandescent meteor—crashed from the “sky” of the water-filled realm, spewing steam and bubbles, and struck Haimohois directly from above. Under the sheer force and heat of the impact, the divine sea beast let out a wrenching shriek and was knocked away, driven deep into the darker, deeper parts of the ocean.
As the creature regained its composure and looked up at the source of the impact, it saw that the “meteor” had halted mid-descent, hovering in the dark abyss, still radiating intense heat and releasing clouds of steam.
Through the haze of bubbles, the steel “meteor” began to transform. Accompanied by the clanking of mechanical components, the metallic object morphed into a towering mechanical giant. Facing the abyssal beast, it raised one arm, pointing straight at it, and from that arm popped out a high-speed chainsaw sword. In response to the provocation, the deep-sea monstrosity let out a roar that shook the depths.
And at that moment, more steel “meteors” began plunging into this realm.
Ashen Forgemasters—steel apostles created in infinite number by the Endless Forge—were now traversing nearly all inner realms at high speed. Following the orders of the Lord of Furnace, they invaded every realm tainted by Chalice Apostles. Endless mechanical servants launched assaults and challenges against the blood-and-flesh apostles preparing to breach into the physical world.
In an instant, the fires of war had spread beyond the current world into the broader inner realms. Wildfire-like conflict surged outward, swiftly expanding to every corner of the universe.
Thanks to the intervention of the Ashen Forgemasters and Kramar’s angelic commandments, the Chalice apostles’ invasion was temporarily halted. Besieged by the infinite onslaught of “Stone” apostles, the Chalice bloodspawn had no chance to focus on breaching the realm’s barriers. The clusters of blood threads blanketing the skies began to rapidly dissipate.
“Damn you, Forging Furnace! Still can’t recognize the situation?!”
Realizing that her summoned “Chalice” apostles couldn’t reach the material world due to the interference of other apostles, Unina spat a curse from within the Blood-Limb Temple. With the apostle invasion disrupted, the cult had no choice but to move to the next phase of their plan.
“Now… we’ll have to slightly slow down the Mother’s awakening ritual…”
After a brief contemplation, Unina made her decision. She closed her eyes once more and began to pray to the Three Gods of Chalice.
“Three Venerable Progenitors…
This world needs your strength—more strength…
Let all resistance… drown in the ultimate blood tide…”
At this moment, the Mother of Chalice cult initiated their next operation. The Three Gods of Chalice would first break their own seals, leaving behind incarnations to continue the ritual to awaken the Mother, then descend together into the world—sweeping away all opposition.
While the ritual to free the Mother of Chalice would still take time, breaking their own seals required only a little more than the time it had taken to unseal the apostles. In fact, when they first acquired the Crimson Holy Mother, the cult had already completed the necessary preparations for apostle summoning. After absorbing the Flower Goddess’s power, the preparations for the subordinate god's descent were also finalized.
Truthfully, the Three Gods could have descended the moment the Abyssal Serpent stole back the Flower Goddess’s power. But they delayed—intending to complete the ritual to unseal the Mother together, which would drastically accelerate the process. However, given the current crisis, they could wait no longer. They had to descend—or risk the physical world falling entirely.
Thus, the Three Gods would leave behind avatars in the ritual space to continue the Mother’s awakening, even if at a slower pace. It wouldn't stop the ritual entirely.
As Unina prayed, a mass of black clouds gathered above the Blood-Limb Temple, swiftly spreading—first across all three fronts of the battlefield, then across the entire southern Ufiga continent, and even the entire Ufiga continent itself. The heavy, oppressive clouds crossed the vast Conquest Sea, stretching northward—toward the main continent.
Under that oppressive sky, the ocean began to churn with ominous tides. Fishermen working at sea sensed something was wrong with both the sky and the sea, and in panic, pulled up their nets and steered their boats toward home.
On the southern coast of the main continent, in a picturesque coastal town, Dorothy sat on a small balcony of a luxurious seaside hotel. Gazing at the ominous sea in the distance, she murmured.
“Just as I thought… those three are coming down. As soon as the situation shifts, they immediately choose to descend…”
“Of course they do… They’re beasts, after all. Instincts are sharper in animals.”
Sitting opposite her, Beverly gave her take on Dorothy’s words, then drained her tea—blended with machine oil—and stretched with a yawn.
“Huaaah… Seems like it’s my turn soon. Finally get to beat the crap out of those beasts for once…”
As she spoke, Beverly cracked her shoulders, releasing sharp metallic clicks. Dorothy then asked once more.
“Best-case scenario, keep them trapped in the inner realms. Can you manage that?”
“That, huh… I can stop two at most. One will definitely get through. That one’s your problem.”
Beverly cracked her knuckles in reply. Dorothy frowned slightly.
“You alone against two? Can you win?”
“I can hold them off for quite a while. But a total victory? No. Between the two of us, we’re still at a disadvantage against all three.”
Beverly replied frankly. After hearing that, Dorothy turned her gaze westward—toward the distant sea’s edge.
“I see… In that case, let’s hope our yet-unseen ally is up to the task…”
…
Meanwhile, as the fires of war raged across Ufiga, far to the west of the main continent, in the heart of the distant Starfall Continent, something equally important was beginning to unfold.
At the center of the continent—in the sacred ground of Shamanism, the ancient Ancestral Valley—the land had finally begun to recover from the months-long devastation of ice and snow. The giant totem pole at the valley’s heart and the lands surrounding it had thawed and returned to their original state.
At the valley’s edge, resting near the snowline, an archbishop of the Eastern Church, master of flame, led his weary followers. Days of intense labor had left them exhausted. These warriors from the Sacrament Knight Order, seeing this once-heretical land restored to use by their efforts, held complex emotions in their hearts.
Above the massive totem pole, the True Spirit Shaman, in soul-form, sat cross-legged in silence, overlooking the many shamans gathered once again from across the continent. His gaze swept across them—finally landing on the mouth of the canyon to the east.
There, shaped from ancient stones, was a giant, abstract eagle-shaped petroglyph etched into the ground.