In the Creti Empire, Botswana Province, along the mountain railway less than an hour's journey from the capital, Brierda.
The *Brierda* magitech train had been sitting motionless for some time. Smoke billowed from the front carriages, Carriage Four having suffered particularly severe destruction.
Following that brief, explosive clash, silence had once again descended.
A massive hole had been blasted through the roof. Unbridled sunlight streamed in, yet it failed to pierce the black mist, barely illuminating the aged figure standing amid the devastated wreckage.
The old man was like an emperor in his twilight standing atop a dark reef. Only the shimmering radiance around his body and the eerie glimmer flickering in his eyes within the black mist were distinct.
"Can we have a proper talk, Miss Unity?"
His voice was laced with complexity as he looked down at the female assassin sprawled on the floor, carrying a faint tone of entreaty.
Within this soundproof barrier, their words would not be overheard by anyone else.
"..."
Unity lay pressed against the cold, hard wooden floor, gritting her teeth.
Even though the body was hers, she could not muster the slightest shred of control over it.
The imperial officer loomed over her. With her night vision, she could clearly see that harsh face bearing a morbid gentleness, like a predator toying with its prey.
She had never seen such a terrifying mental manipulation spell. As long as he held her captive, he could deduce personal secrets through her dreams.
Though dreams were fleeting and unruly, they lay submerged in the deepest recesses of memory and mind, inevitably leaking indirect clues.
By repeatedly delving into her dreams, he would eventually dredge up the vital intelligence she was determined never to disclose!
She lifted her head in defiance and glared furiously at him, blazing rage erupting from the phoenix eyes behind her mask.
"You beast, worse than vermin! You're nothing but an invader, yet you put on this show of benevolence!"
Unity ground out every word through gritted teeth, her hoarse voice echoing within the quiet carriage.
Toward this imperial who had peered into her dreams, she harbored nothing but boundless hostility and hatred.
"What on earth are you talking about?"
Lanqi clutched his head, feeling a pounding headache coming on.
"That line was the truth, too," Talia chimed in within his mind.
"I don't need you running a lie detector on me right now!"
Lanqi couldn't help suspecting that Talia was seizing the chance to insult him!
Yet he had no time to rein in Talia, who had been growing increasingly rampant lately.
The most troublesome aspect of espionage was never knowing who was on whose side. Whenever entering a new region, friendly fire was all too common.
Regardless, he couldn't keep her pinned to the floor like this.
After Lanqi had Talia lift the mental binding on the Allied spy Unity, Unity instantly felt control return to her limbs.
In disbelief, she flexed her fingers, then instinctively leaped back to put distance between them.
It was not that she didn't want to flee this carriage of the *Brierda*.
Rather, a wall of psychokinetic magic sealed off Carriage Four, preventing other passengers from opening their compartment doors while barring her from escaping.
Though the psychokinesis felt weak to her—at most Tier 5—she knew that before this old man of at least Tier 7, escape was an impossibility. His confident release of her bonds was merely to make the disparity in their power painfully clear.
"Can we talk, Miss Unity? We probably have a little over ten minutes before the imperial forces from Brierda arrive."
Lanqi raised both hands willingly, signaling that she was safe.
"..."
Unity gave no answer. Her gaze was like an undying flame in the darkness; though she had just been thoroughly battered and mentally tormented, she still radiated an inviolable dignity.
Never communicate with illusionists or mental manipulation casters—that was common sense.
Such individuals were masters at playing with the mind.
At any given moment, he could be deceiving her.
"Lanqi, haven't you noticed? The kinder you act toward her right now, the more your ingrained habits show. To an enemy, that breezy, nonchalant attitude of yours, combined with your fondness for feigning weakness, makes you look like the most oppressive archvillain imaginable," Talia remarked in Lanqi's mind, sounding like an amused spectator.
"..."
Lanqi choked.
So no matter what he did, he was cast as the villain?
"Just go," Lanqi said after wrestling with the dilemma for a while, finally shaking his head.
Their initial encounter had been awful. Words alone could hardly build trust; only actions could gradually change her perception.
Entangling himself further with this assassin was unwise. He certainly couldn't harm her, so his only option was to release her and leave their reunion to fate.
In all likelihood, this Allied spy's civilian cover was also in the capital, Brierda, meaning their paths would probably cross again.
If she saw him as an imperial officer, she would have no cause to report him to the imperial authorities—doing so would be outright suicidal.
For the time being, she would run as far as possible. And once he reached Brierda, he would have to find a way to adopt a new identity anyway; this elderly man persona was far too inconvenient.
"?"
Confusion flickered in Unity's eyes, quickly overtaken by sharp vigilance.
"What do you mean?" she asked coldly.
After prying through her memories, he was letting her go? It felt like deliberate mockery.
He had only to wait for the search units of Brierda's Military Commission to arrive, and he could take her back to the capital and throw her into the interrogation cells of the military command, where she would never see freedom again.
"Just leave. I'm not going to kill you," Lanqi sighed softly.
"..."
Unity studied this imperial officer in the guise of an old man, utterly unable to fathom the reasoning behind this bizarre turn of events.
"...Are you with the Silver Moon Restoration Society? Or the radical anti-aristocratic faction?" Unity probed, fixing her eyes on him.
Though her instincts insisted he was a genuine imperial, she knew full well how fractured the empire was, rife with hidden factions and conflicting agendas.
Even within the Creti Imperial Central Executive Committee and the Military Commission, there were factions scheming to stir up chaos.
"You should be able to tell easily enough whether we look more like friends or foes," Lanqi answered succinctly.
Even with an ally, he couldn't reveal his hand unprompted. Moreover, the identity Nigel had provided belonged to the most covert intelligence bureau within the Kingdom of Posen, rather than the United Council of Kingdoms. Nigel was his sole contact, operating under an entirely different branch from the Kingdom of Canbera in the Western Hub. Unity shared no recognition codes with him.
Unity hesitated.
Logically speaking, he had the power to pry into her mind without interrogation, yet chose to release her now. That made it unlikely he was playing a long game to reel in a bigger catch.
If he truly wished to extract her intelligence, there was no reason to spare her at this juncture.
Perhaps she really had struck sheer dumb luck today.
Or perhaps the spirits of her fallen comrades were watching over her from beyond, refusing to let her die so soon and granting her this fragile survival.
Unity decided not to linger. She reached directly toward Landry's corpse, intent on taking his belongings and magic cards.
Lanqi suddenly reached out to stop her, and she froze once more.
"Why did you kill him?" Lanqi asked.
If Unity had simply walked away, he would not have intervened. But if she was after Landry's belongings, it proved his death was not an accident, but premeditated.
To Lanqi, Landry had seemed a decent imperial.
He wanted to understand at least this much.
"..."
Disgust filled Unity's gaze.
She hadn't wanted to answer, but considering that this imperial mentalist could uncover whatever he wanted if he truly pressed, and that lingering here with him only worsened her predicament, she relented.
"Why do you think the Saint Creti Monastery took an interest in him? That man possessed unimaginable talent in magitechnology, and his family has studied Demon Magic Script for centuries. He was capable of fusing imperial magitechnology with lost Demon Realm magitechnology—he might well have sparked an entire revolution," Unity sneered, looking down at Landry's corpse.
Her orders were to assassinate this frontier noble named Landry Washington and seize his research materials.
Her mission would have succeeded smoothly, had she not run into this ridiculously powerful imperial outlier.
Probing her secrets was an affront that, as a kingdom intelligence operative, would normally demand a fight to the death. Retreating now was already an act of enduring humiliation.
Yet even after her explanation, he still showed no intention of letting her take Landry's belongings. Her answer had clearly given him pause.
"Don't you think that since I'm letting you walk away today, you ought to do me a favor?" Lanqi mused after a moment, looking as if he had arrived at a solution.
"..."
Reluctance was written all over Unity's face.
"Think about it. If you were exposed on this train by the empire, it means there's a mole close to you. That means your network could be compromised at any moment and is no longer reliable. If you want to turn the tables on your own, you'll inevitably need a new friend—preferably a third party who has never had any conflict of interest with you."
Lanqi trusted he didn't need to elaborate.
Unity's mental strain had to be even greater than he imagined.
"...What do you want?"
Unity remained on guard against Lanqi, her clenched jaw trembling slightly, her chin rigid.
While cooperating with an enemy's enemy was indeed viable, that didn't stop her from despising him.
Or rather, she hated all imperials.
The haze of war shrouded the entire southern land. Her homeland had been torn to shreds, and countless comrades had perished before the cold blades of the imperials.
A blood debt engraved into her very bones.
In her eyes, no faction of imperials was acceptable. Every second she spent undercover in the Creti Empire was pure torment.
Yet for the sake of victory, no matter how much she reviled it, she would find a way to do what benefited the kingdom.
"Do me a favor: take his corpse and bury him. His identity belongs to me for now. A living Landry who can cooperate with you is surely more valuable than a dead one, isn't he?" Lanqi suggested.
He remembered Landry mentioning that, as a frontier noble, he had never visited the capital, Brierda, nor did he have any acquaintances there to turn to. If Lanqi disguised himself as Landry, seeing through the masquerade would be nearly impossible.
Besides, assuming Landry's appearance was remarkably simple—it required only minor cosmetic adjustments. Later, once in Brierda, he could craft a [Polymorph: Human] card tailored to Landry, making the disguise even more seamless.
"You're out of your mind. Do you even know who the headmaster of Saint Creti Monastery is?"
Unity grasped his plan in an instant and stared at him as if he were insane.
This man was clearly an imperial insider, yet he wanted Landry's identity to infiltrate another imperial institution!
"...I do," Lanqi nodded faintly, already crouching down to collect the items from Landry's person.
The headmaster permanently stationed at Saint Creti Monastery was Violet the Aquamarine, the Sixth War God. If she saw through him, it would be game over.
In the heartland of the Creti Empire, exposure meant death—a constant equation unless one could amass sufficient force to directly contest the city's defenses, like the City of Flowers Incident launched by Polman. That required favorable timing, advantageous terrain, and united allies. Theoretically, pulling off an incident in the Creti capital, Brierda, was on a completely different scale of difficulty than in Palieu, the City of Flowers, as the tiers and scale of the two cities were entirely different leagues.
"Besides, Landry was a genius in magitechnology and mastered Demon Magic Script. Just what level are you at to think you can replace him without getting caught?" Unity pressed disdainfully.
She found the man absurdly arrogant.
If he turned out to be an incompetent fool, not only would he get himself killed, but the Allied forces would also miss out on Landry's legacy.
"Trust me, you won't regret it," Lanqi answered simply, exuding the calm confidence of a seasoned professional.
"..."
For some reason, Unity felt that assuming someone else's identity was not this man's first rodeo.
That confidence couldn't stem from talent alone; it carried the weight of extensive experience.
He seemed like a repeat offender!
To say nothing of what kind of nerves of steel he possessed, she couldn't even detect the slightest fluctuation in his heartbeat right now, as if he didn't find such high-risk conduct remotely frightening.
He exuded a serene sort of madness—powerful, sinister, riddled with enigmas, and utterly untrustworthy.
The crux of the matter was that she couldn't beat him in a fight. Agreeing to his deal might not guarantee a mutual win, but dragging this out would surely result in a mutual loss, handing victory to the Creti Empire.
"Remember this, you vile dream-peeper: I hope you survive a few days in Saint Creti Monastery."
After a fleeting hesitation, Unity made her choice. She hoisted Landry's corpse onto her shoulder and vanished from sight.
She didn't believe for a second that this man could successfully pose as Landry in Saint Creti Monastery.
Still, if he had a death wish, she saw no reason to stop him.
Imperials were destined to be her mortal enemies; betrayal was only a matter of time, and she hardly expected this imperial officer to assist her all the way to the end.
As the black mist dispersed, splintered furniture, shattered glass, and scorched metal lay scattered everywhere in chaotic heaps, looking as though Carriage Four had endured an apocalyptic catastrophe. Lingering flames still flickered amid the wreckage, sending up tendrils of black smoke that, combined with the stench of blood, choked the throat.
Lanqi returned to Compartment 404, let out a breath of relief, and swiftly began altering his disguise.
Much later.
Perhaps a dozen minutes had passed.
When the compartment door was opened once more by approaching imperial officers, only a black-haired, blue-eyed young man remained, hands raised in an utterly harmless gesture to signal to the officers that he was not the extremely dangerous element who had attacked the train.
Interlude: Xigelei's Dream
Demon King City, Naicalis.
The early hours before dawn.
A biting blizzard howled through the city streets, burying crumbled walls, severed limbs, and pools of blood beneath a vast expanse of white.
Inside the room.
The heavy drone of the wind and the clatter of sleet against the windowpane swirled around her ears.
Goosebumps broke out across her skin as she awoke from her drowsy slumber.
This was the top floor of the McCarthy Palace Restaurant on Lis Island, the place where Xigelei resided.
Outside the room, it was pitch-dark—or rather, a blinding white blur where nothing could be discerned.
"Strange... why did I dream again?"
Xigelei pressed a hand to her forehead, as if clutching at the last lingering trace of tranquil warmth.
She had dreamed that she was a cardinal of a church, beloved by her subordinates, with someone she cherished deeply in her heart.
After chatting with a petite elf older sister in the afternoon and getting kicked out of the office, she had cheerfully set off on a journey.
It really was just a dream...
"Sigh."
Sitting on the edge of the bed, Xigelei bowed her head and sighed.
It had been such an ordinary, mundane day, yet to her it felt hopelessly unattainable.
The bitter cold was irresistible, piercing deep and constricting her body.
She had been sent back alone to the Demon Realm for further training a long time ago.
The war between the Horning Empire and the Allied forces had reached a fever pitch, liable to conclude at any moment—perhaps causing one side to blaze like fireworks before swiftly perishing. The Demon Realm was the only place truly safe for her.
Even in defeat, the Demon Realm would be the last bastion invaded by the Blood Clan.
The northern human nations could fall at any time; several beastman city-states had already been slaughtered by the Blood Clan; and even the Land of Evernight had grown precarious, completely cutting off communications with the human realms.
Though Xigelei was deeply anxious, she had no way of knowing how the Polant Empire was faring.
All she could do now was grow stronger as quickly as possible.
In an era that possessed Tier 9s, one had to reach at least Tier 8 to exert any meaningful influence on a global battlefield. And to become a decisive hero unit, one needed to stand at the pinnacle of Tier 9, like Caliera, the Lord of the Fallen.
Outside the window, shrill sirens wailed once more.
She had clearly been awakened by the alarms echoing through Naicalis.
On this night of raging snow, the Demon King City of Naicalis was cloaked in the gloom of terror.
The once-bustling Central Square of Naicalis was now deserted. Relentless snow buried every trace of devastation, as though the screams of departed souls would vanish with the wind, left to be mourned by no one.
The renewed blare of alarms meant another Blood Clan assault had arrived.
Xigelei had lost count of how many times this had happened.
The only certainty was that if even the Demon King City had fallen into such a state, the front lines had to be unimaginably grimmer.
She wondered... if he... was still alive.
She dared not dwell on the thought, yet ominous premonitions lingered in her heart like an inescapable nightmare.
Thunder Lord had been defeated by Somerset, the Eighth Progenitor; Mist Lord had sacrificed his life to seal Bernhard, the Ninth Progenitor; and Caliera had been gravely wounded by the Third Progenitor, rendering her unable to fight again in the short term.
Yet to defend the Demon King City, Caliera had marched back onto the battlefield without a second thought.
It seemed that wherever Xigelei went, she brought misfortune to those around her.
The kinder people were to her, the faster they met their demise!
The despair, self-blame, and heartache she had tasted in the snowy mountains of the past revived vividly in her mind.
The Blood Clan's ruthless violence, cruel bloodlust, and innocent-sounding mockery.
These memories stiffened her body and made her throat quiver with dread as her hands clenched tight.
Yet, within her left hand, a distinct warmth persisted.
Someone had protected her.
On that dark, sunless, freezing night, the image of that person fighting flashed through her mind. She had truly seen the sun.
"I don't want to die... You gave me this life..."
Xigelei held her head. Whether she could survive depended on whether they could hold the line in tonight's battle for the Demon King City.
Tonight would be the coldest, darkest night in the Demon Realm.
That was what Caliera had told her.
The Blood Clan had isolated the Land of Evernight, severing communications between the Demon Realm and the northern human kingdoms at all costs, launching an all-out assault on the Demon Realm to plunge it into panic—leaving the demons in ignorance of whether the human fronts had collapsed and whether holding out would bring reinforcements.
This war of attrition had to be fought to the bitter end. They could not surrender before the final moment arrived!
Yet that black silhouette, his retreating figure, was already so distant.
Left behind in solitude, she strove to live on just as before, waiting for the day he would return.
Unfurling her empty palm before her eyes, Xigelei let out a trembling breath.
Though she felt no urge to complain, gazing out the window at the apocalyptic deluge of blizzard, a quiet conviction stirred within her:
If she truly reached the end of her rope, he would surely come to save her.
The howling blizzard outside rattled the windows like invisible hands pounding against the glass, sending chills down her spine.
What terrified her even more were the rising and falling clashes and bloodcurdling screams in the distance; each cry pierced her heart like a blade.
She didn't want any more demons to die. She had long since come to see the demons as her own kin.
Just like the night the Moon Holy Land was annihilated.
In her memories, what she had seen most were the corpses of her brethren.
Suddenly, an ear-splitting boom rang out, followed by a violent tremor that shook the ground, clattering silverware and porcelain.
Xigelei looked up in panic to find the lavish crystal chandelier above swaying precariously, letting out an ear-piercing creak.
Unsure of what had happened, she edged trembling toward the window and peered out through the glass laced with frost patterns.
This palace restaurant possessed the final protective barrier he had left behind. In times like this, running around recklessly was foolish—that was basic common sense.
Yet if even the barrier was breached, she couldn't simply sit and wait for death.
If worst came to worst, she would have to abandon this place and leap from the window to flee.
Outside, amid swirling goose-feather flakes, the coastal buildings surrounding the palace restaurant appeared draped in silver, desolate against the night.
Strewn across the ground were numerous corpses of armored Demon King Army soldiers, the snow soaked in crimson blood burning Xigelei's eyes.
Before she could even make sense of the sight—
"Found you, you little brat who should have died long ago."
A sudden chill pierced her frail body, sounding like the whisper of the Grim Reaper beside her ear.
Xigelei turned her head stiffly. Through blurry eyes, she saw a figure gleaming with crimson light approaching her step by step through the darkness.
She had no idea when the intruder had entered the room.
The newcomer possessed bottomless crimson eyes, her gaze slicing through the gloom like blades.
The terrifying magic power caused Xigelei's breath to catch, as though an invisible hand were throttling her neck, siphoning away her life bit by bit.
She was much stronger now.
Against a Blood Clan Earl, she might have held some hope of escaping.
Yet the Blood Clan enemy before her was leagues beyond any Earl.
"W-What happened to Caliera?!" Xigelei swallowed hard, crying out in disbelief.
"Heh heh."
The female Blood Clan Marquis merely let out a soft chuckle.
The skin around her eyes was as pallid as marble, accentuated by an uncanny, bewitching beauty mark beneath one eye that added an alluring charm.
Clad in a form-fitting black gown, her raven hair danced in the wind, resembling night incarnate swallowing every trace of light.
That laugh served as her answer, sending Xigelei's heart hammering madly in her chest, as if ready to burst through her ribs.
Xigelei opened her mouth, only to find her throat too hoarse to utter a sound.
Whether to resist or flee, her limbs felt weighed down with lead, utterly paralyzed.
Marquis Heriteer, the Seventh Progenitor, saw straight through Xigelei's intentions. Reaching out a pale, slender hand, she effortlessly infiltrated the palace's last remaining barrier with magic power. The dark energy crept across the floor, slithering up Xigelei's feet and coiling around her body.
Xigelei felt a bone-chilling power corroding her spine, and her consciousness slowly faded into darkness.
...
Aboard a cruise ship traveling from the Northern Continent to the Southern Continent.
Silver moonlight filtered through the porthole, spilling across the soft carpet of the top-floor suite.
"No!!"
Side bolted awake on the large bed with a sharp scream.
She struggled upright, slender fingers clutching the silk bedsheets as her chest heaved violently, gasping for air.
Sweat soaked her soft long hair, plastering it against her pale forehead.
After quite some time, Side seemed to come fully to her senses. She closed her eyes in chagrin, drawing in several deep breaths to calm her racing heart.
The tranquil surroundings and familiar furnishings reminded her that it had only been a nightmare.
"Phew."
Side shook her head.
The life she was living now was Xigelei's sweet dream, while the world Xigelei inhabited was her living nightmare.
Though she had never encountered the Blood Clan in the waking world, she found them terrifying beyond measure.
Ever since she parted ways with the Holy Son, she had continually been summoned by such dreams—or rather, it was like a dream that never ended.
She tossed aside the blanket and slipped out of bed, walking barefoot to the window.
The chill of the cold marble floor sent a shiver through her.
Through the glass, the inky-blue night sea stretched endlessly, faint moonlight dancing upon the waves.
Occasional dim lights shone from the windows of other cabins, resembling fireflies floating on the water's surface.
Side gazed blankly at the serene night outside until the lingering dread of the dream finally ebbed away.
She realized she was aboard a luxury cruise liner, enjoying a wonderful holiday.
The nightmare was behind her; she had returned to the beauty of reality.
After a long while, Side murmured with quiet conviction, letting the silver moonlight wash freely over her face:
"Even in a dream, I believe you will come to save me."
Chapter 708