Before the void portal stood the barrier gate—the final security checkpoint.
"Due to the prison's absolute security protocol, even trainee guards will not necessarily be rescued should their lives be endangered in the intermediate tiers. If you are severely injured, disabled, or killed due to insufficient competence, the prison bears zero responsibility. You all signed the acknowledgment of these terms when submitting your internship project. Are you certain?"
A guard in a Herrom uniform stared solemnly at the students led by Hyperion, speaking with a stack of documents in hand.
"No problem," Hyperion confirmed.
Shortly after, half a beat behind, the Poet of Great Love nodded along.
"Is she really here for a guard assessment?"
The guard swept his gaze across the five students, his eyes lingering disdainfully on the black-haired, green-eyed Poet of Great Love.
The young lady in the lead, Miss Milian Milford, was clearly the squad leader, while the three silent students behind her appeared formidable, exuding a chilling, eerie presence. Only the weakest among them—the black-haired, green-eyed girl beside her—looked as though she had barely woken from a nap.
Yet this girl was strikingly conspicuous, commanding one's gaze and making it hard to look away.
"She's just like that. Don't mind her," Hyperion sighed.
At this moment, the Poet of Great Love wore a pitch-black mask. Structured like a restraint muzzle, it firmly locked her lower jaw, dampening the effects of any melody magic or word-spirit magic she might emit so that her voice would not severely disturb the minds of others the instant she spoke.
Yet when she remained silent, looking as if not a single thought crossed her mind, her gaze was bright and tender, clearer than emerald spring water, as though she held a natural, boundless love for all living things.
Whenever she casually shifted her gaze, strands of her hair and the hem of her skirt swayed gently, and the delicate floral fragrance wafting from her swept over the senses like a sweet summer ballad or a crisp autumn breeze.
The restraint mask added a touch of wild menace and danger to her, yet her posture radiated the presence of a peerless beauty found once in a generation. That measured hint of mystery only deepened the urge to see what lay beneath.
Faced with the guard's questioning remark and overly lingering stare at the black-haired, green-eyed Poet of Great Love, the three Domination priests behind Hyperion rolled their eyes toward him, glaring blankly. A sudden chill shot up the guard's spine, and he instinctively clamped his mouth shut.
"...As long as you understand the risks."
The guard immediately concluded that this black-haired, green-eyed girl was the true center of the group, revered and protected by the three behind her like a princess.
"..."
Hyperion glanced back at the three of them, at a loss for words.
All three were trusted confidants trained personally by the Bishop of Domination, as well as elite direct retainers of the Domination branch. Believing Hyperion was also part of their branch, they had obeyed the bishop's orders and disguised themselves as third-year students of the Protos Royal Magic Academy to assist Hyperion and the Poet of Great Love.
Ordinarily, having three Tier 5 elite enforcers at her command would have been cause for celebration.
The problem was that the day before their departure, Lanqi had not only arranged their new identities in the Snowfield Province and their student enrollments at the Protos Royal Magic Academy, but he and the Poet of Great Love had also put these three direct retainers through a short crash course in adaptive training.
Now, the look in their eyes was somewhat unhinged.
Beneath their loyalty and cold detachment lay a flicker of chaotic fanaticism, as though their mental networks had synchronized, leaving them ready to sacrifice everything for the mother units that were the Bishop of Domination and the Holy Son of Domination.
It reminded Hyperion once again of the five-man Boxer Team from Ikerite Academy, though the three behind her felt even more terrifying.
After all, the five from the Boxer Team had merely been honest, ordinary students who underwent transformation...
These three direct retainers were already elites of the Resurrection Church to begin with.
Hyperion dared not imagine what level they had evolved into.
Saying nothing more, the guard cleared the group, allowing them to depart the foundation tier and proceed down to Sub-level 1.
Even though all five students looked human—and exhaustive scans by Herrom Prison confirmed they were pure humans—the guard could not shake the bizarre impression that he was watching an elite demon squad walk past.
Noticing the guard's expression, Hyperion felt as though her own human citizenship had been revoked along with theirs. Not wanting to humiliate herself any further, she quickly led the Poet of Great Love and the three direct retainers—two women and one man—through the checkpoint and stepped into the void portal shimmering like deep-purple water.
In an instant, an invisible pull felt ready to draw them into an endless, unknown world. With a momentary loss of sound and sight and an abrupt surge of weightlessness, they plunged as if falling through the sky, until they decelerated smoothly and finally arrived in an entirely new subterranean world.
***
Meanwhile, far away on the Southern Continent.
Hutton Kingdom, the royal capital of Ikerite.
Spring had arrived at Ikerite Academy. With the winter frost entirely melted away, the morning's first rays of sunlight bathed the grounds, and the dawn clouds gently unfurled across the horizon like vibrant pigments brushed by a master artist.
The buildings of the School of Sages awoke in the morning light, dew shimmering on the windowsills as if every droplet held the breath of spring.
On the fifth floor of the School of Sages' main building, Loren leaned back lazily in his office, quietly gazing out at the scenic campus beyond his window.
The new term had been underway for a month, yet he felt this semester was far more peaceful than the last.
Every day was exceptionally relaxing and pleasant.
He had no idea where the difference came from.
Though occasional rumors about him still drifted through the school, they were nowhere near as preposterous as before.
"Oh? Another newly rising high-ranking cleric is about to complete an assessment? What wonderful news."
Loren suddenly seemed to sense something. Closing his eyes in his chair, he used divine magic to broadly perceive the distant situation, taking an occasional sip of coffee.
Within a higher-dimensional spatial vantage point, the individual undergoing the assessment was a black-haired woman dressed as a noble student.
Loren found her strangely familiar, yet he was certain he had never met her.
"A priest under Chosen Saintess Almis this time...?"
Loren had never seen this prison before, but judging by the inscriptions within the scene, it was likely Herrom, the imperial capital of the Protos Empire.
He quickly pieced together the situation: it had to be a priest of the Kingdom of Asethelan disguised as a noble of the Protos Empire, sent into Herrom Prison to carry out an important mission.
The only figure close enough to the Protos Empire was Almis, stationed in the Kingdom of Asethelan.
On the Northern Continent, the only ones capable of authorizing a clerical mission of this caliber, besides the Chosen Saintess, was the Chief Inquisitor—and the Chief Inquisitor was likely still deep in the Calamitous Wasteland, slaughtering away.
Beside the Chosen Saintess, who had arrived first across from him, a blurry silhouette of light soon appeared on another side.
Occupying four corners, they could not converse; even their figures were merely condensed spheres of light.
Though only a silhouette, the newly appeared figure nodded in greeting to him, and Loren returned the gesture.
That was the Paladin Commander from the headquarters of the Goddess of Fate in the Canberra Kingdom on the Southern Continent. He and Loren held great mutual respect—a rare communion of noble minds. Even though Loren had never seen the man's true face beneath his armor, he trusted that the Paladin Commander was a pure-hearted, like-minded comrade-in-arms.
Only after a long while did the final supervisor of the assessment make an appearance.
The Chief Inquisitor took a single look, then vanished once more.
The gesture meant that after confirming the other three were present, he could leave with peace of mind.
"..."
None of the three voiced any thoughts, quietly continuing to observe the assessment.
Though this assessment had come somewhat abruptly for both the High Priest and the Paladin Commander of the Southern Continent, merely seeing Herrom Prison told them that the Northern Continent clearly had a dire need to dispatch a priest deep into that prison for an exceedingly dangerous task.
The more Loren looked at the priest, the more familiar she seemed, yet he could not put his finger on why.
Then, as his eyes shifted to the woman standing beside the examinee—
Though she wore a mask, revealing only her brow and eyes beneath her jet-black hair...
Her color scheme made Loren's hand tremble around the handle of his cup.
Nowadays, whenever Loren reviewed students in the Shadow World, the moment he spotted a combination of black and green, his instincts screamed that something was wrong! He was terrified that a cleric might be corrupted.
This female priest being tested had to be Almis's darling; she absolutely could not be tainted! Rumors in Ikerite were already claiming that he, Loren, was the real cult mastermind, and that the students he produced brainwashed priests more cruelly than the Resurrection Church ever could!
Loren took a deep breath, thought it through carefully, and calmed himself down.
Lanqi wasn't a girl. He was definitely overthinking things.
Chapter 390