Shadow World: Eternal Damnation Undying Finale

Warm afternoon sunlight spilled across the magnificent Salem Palace. Lanqi slowly opened his eyes. Before him stretched a long corridor formed by row after row of open, carved wooden doors. The woody scent of antique furniture mingled with the fragrance of fresh flowers, while shimmering crystal chandeliers refracted kaleidoscopic colors onto the gold-rimmed porcelain and silverware arranged on the dining table. "..." Lanqi leaned back in his chair, gazing at this unfamiliar yet familiar dining hall. He had returned to the Northern Empire of Polant, where he had once assumed the office of prime minister. This was the official residence of the Emperor of Polant: Salem Palace. Originally built as an expansive city-state manor by a duke, it had later been acquired by the imperial family and gradually expanded into the architectural complex that stood today. And the dining hall of Salem Palace was precisely where he had once lunched and held discussions with Empress Khesia. Having just emerged from a chaotic darkness, the world before him felt as though the first rays of dawn were piercing through layered gloom, his sight steadily returning to reveal these surroundings. Boss Cat was resting on his lap, and the Great Love Poet was still bound to him, having not been forcibly separated. "It seems on the Shadow World's timeline, I stayed in the Polant Empire for quite a long time. Now I can even summon my familiar, Little Coal Ball, whenever I wish?" Lanqi murmured to himself. "Who're you calling Little Coal Ball, meow!" Boss Cat shouted. It had stomached "Little Rye Bread," but it hadn't expected that the name Lanqi gave it back in the Polant Empire—Little Coal Ball—wasn't just an offhand remark, but an identity he had conscientiously committed to memory. "Where is this?" Talia's telepathic voice soon echoed in his mind. "The Polant imperial family dining with the prime minister... This isn't a rigid imperial protocol, but an informal consultation format within the Polant Empire's constitutional democracy. It provides a relaxed setting where the emperor and the prime minister can discuss state affairs and policy issues." Lanqi answered Talia. In the Polant Empire's constitutional framework back then, the monarch, Empress Khesia, played an important ceremonial role, while actual executive power was concentrated primarily in the hands of the prime minister and his parliament. Without moving his head, Lanqi merely shifted his gaze around the dining hall, noting how every detail was steeped in the marks of time. His field of vision was not particularly wide, as though something was blocking most of the light. On the walls hung oil paintings depicting even more harrowing historical battles, seeming to engrave both the nation's past glory and its suffering. Judging by the alterations to the dining hall's furnishings, many years had likely passed, yet everything about Salem Palace remained similar to what he remembered. Even the meetings were unchanged. Empress Khesia still maintained a deep interest in and influence over national affairs; the prime minister regularly reporting government business to the monarch was part of the Polant Empire's political tradition. Only this time, there was no scent of tobacco on him—both his pipe and matches were gone. More importantly, he was no longer wearing the prime minister's black suit. Instead, it was... white attire he had never seen before? Before long, Lanqi's attention was drawn to a framed piece on the wall. Strictly speaking, it was not a painting. It was a newspaper from three years ago. Even after all this time, the empress had treasured it, framing it to hang within Salem Palace: [January 8, Year 611 of the Holy Polant Theocracy, *Polant Morning Post* Front-Page Headline: "Horning Empire Surrenders, The Century War Concludes."] [Polant Dispatch: Yesterday, General Alex Osborn, Supreme Commander of the Allied Forces, accepted the unconditional surrender of the Horning army at Oberon, the headquarters of the Northern Iron Fortress.] [Nine years after the northern Polant Empire entered the war, the tyrannical regime of the southern Horning Empire has collapsed, and the dawn of peace has arrived over the Seville Continent.] [Prime Minister George Twyverley delivered an address, stating: "After countless sacrifices and an arduous struggle, we have finally welcomed the dawn of victory. The threat of the Horning Empire has been thoroughly crushed; justice will always prevail over evil. With hearts full of gratitude, let us pay our highest respects to all the soldiers and citizens who took part in this great struggle."] [Emperor Lukevic II of Horning committed suicide on the 30th of last month. The Allied Forces subsequently advanced toward the Horning heartland from both the eastern and western fronts. Horning troops suffered defeat after defeat, with massive numbers of officers and soldiers captured. Facing the Allied Forces' overwhelming superiority, they were ultimately forced to surrender. Horning Foreign Minister Hansen Hoffman signed the instrument of surrender on behalf of the Horning military.] [This marks the end of the Century War, which lasted nearly thirty years in total.] [Massive public celebrations have erupted across the capital of Hersalem, the allied stronghold of New Sinoxen, and other regions, with citizens singing, dancing, and cheering with joy. The imperial palace square in Hersalem was packed with jubilant crowds singing the national anthem, celebrating the victory of Her Majesty Emperor Khesia and the motherland. Prime Minister Twyverley and members of the royal family waved to the public in the square, and the Holy Polant Pope also attended the grand ceremony.] [Through this war of unprecedented cruelty, the Polant Empire paid an immense price, ultimately defending the values of freedom, justice, and humanitarianism. Yet the wounds of war will take time to heal, and rebuilding our home remains a monumental task. It is hoped that under the principles of the 'Oberon Convention,' the postwar order will ensure such tragedy never recurs, and that the flower of peace will forever blossom across the Seville Continent.] Lanqi scanned the newspapers and paintings treasured by the empress on the wall, gradually grasping the shape of this brand-new timeline. Twelve years had passed. Nine years after the Polant Empire allied with the Demon Realm and the northern nations to officially declare war on the Blood Clan's Horning Empire, they had secured a narrow victory. Now, another three years had elapsed since that triumph. The newspaper beside it recounted another event: During the postwar general election, everyone believed Wilfort would be victorious. The scale of his campaign events was unprecedented, and even the intelligence agencies of the Demon Realm estimated Wilfort would win by a margin of over eighty seats. Yet Wilfort had lost. The enthusiastically cheering crowds had actually been bidding Wilfort farewell. After years of war, military service, sacrifice, bombing raids, death notices, rationing, and famine, the people were exhausted. The citizens looked upon their devastated homes and felt utterly lost, yet Wilfort's campaign platform was still rooted in ideology, urging the populace to keep striving and pointing out the duties and obligations of the Polant Empire. But the people had grown weary. Wilfort demanded that the people sacrifice more, yet they had already given everything back in 602. This was the dispirited state of the national morale manifested in the election. Rather than the responsibilities of a great northern power, what the people needed was the lifting of food rationing, more relaxed fiscal policies, and more public housing. So when Wilfort appeared before them after the war—a gentleman of the Polant imperial era, a wartime leader who stepped forth to speak passionately of Polant's greatness and national duty—the people applauded him warmly. His defeat had thus become the outcome, and that most honorable figure in defeat remained etched in the reports. *So I'm no longer the prime minister,* Lanqi thought with a sense of relief. He wasn't particularly surprised by this outcome. "Why?" Talia voiced her indignation in his mind. "Because the people have suffered, and no one wishes to suffer more. Nor should they have to," Lanqi gently explained to Talia. Prime Minister Wilfort's exit from the stage could be considered thoroughly dignified. He had carried his convictions from start to finish, and the people had offered him their respect. Looking further to the right, the wall no longer bore printed glossy articles, returning instead to several commemorative oil paintings. They depicted the most pivotal moments of the Polant Empire in recent years. In the largest painting, the center of the frame featured an elderly pope clad in an opulent white robe. He wore a golden crown, held a scepter, and bore a silver-white mask that lent him an imposing dignity without needing to display anger. He stood atop a high marble terrace while wyverns blew trumpets amidst the clouds. Below the dais were gathered crowds of citizens from the northern nations, nobles and commoners kneeling together in reverent reception of the pope's blessing. And Empress Khesia was kneeling on one knee, receiving the papal benediction. The pope's right hand rested upon the empress's head while his left held a copy of the *Trinity Scripture*, truly bestowing imperial sovereignty upon this wise and decisive wartime monarch. Seeing this, Lanqi understood one thing. Strictly speaking, this place could no longer be called the Polant Empire. Its new name was— The Holy Polant United Theocracy. A postwar alliance led by Polant, encompassing neighboring northern continental realms such as the Kingdom of Bliss, the Kingdom of Fukelo, and the Kingdom of Edith. Empress Khesia was still the emperor. Yet the Polant Empire now had a Holy Polant Pope whose identity remained unknown to the public. At such an entry point, Lanqi had arrived in a brand-new Shadow World. "Meow, meow." Yet Boss Cat was still curiously examining the newspaper. It discovered that the Polant Empire had successfully abolished the constitutional monarchy along with the upper and lower houses of parliament, restoring monarchical power and the doctrine of divine right following the war's conclusion. The former Prime Minister of the Polant Empire had retired into seclusion thereafter. Some said his failing health prevented him from bearing the office's burdens; some claimed that in peacetime, he posed a greater hazard to peace than an asset; others even asserted he had been a phantom from the very beginning, his name and identity merely assumed, like an envoy sent by God to deliver mankind. No one knew that behind the mask of the white-haired pope, the true identity was— "Your appearance has remained frozen in your youth." Empress Khesia's airy voice startled Boss Cat so badly that the fur on Lanqi's lap stood on end. It had been so engrossed that it hadn't even noticed. At some point, Empress Khesia, the ruler of Polant, had entered the dining hall. She sat in her usual spot—across from Lanqi. "Your Majesty Khesia." Lanqi set the cat down and prepared to rise to salute the newly arrived Empress Khesia. Twelve years had passed, and the once-youthful Empress Khesia was now approaching forty. She was far more mature and gentle, yet still captivating. "No need for formalities." Empress Khesia elegantly extended a hand toward Lanqi, gesturing for him to remain seated at the other end of the long table. Her demeanor exuded noble grace. Her silky brown hair was dotted with dazzling jewels, and her clear blue eyes seemed capable of piercing through the silver-white mask across from her, though they could not entirely conceal a measure of cautious distance. "Thank you, Your Majesty." Lanqi gave a slight bow, the hem of his cloak tracing a gentle arc across the carpet as he sat back down. He raised his head, meeting Empress Khesia's gaze. The dining hall fell into a momentary silence, broken only by the ticking of the clock and the crackling of firewood in the hearth. Inside the hall, no chill could be felt, yet the winter atmosphere lingered at the window ledges with occasional frost and mist, devoid of any trace of birds. The two sat in silence, as if waiting for a meal, or perhaps weighing their words. As the sovereign of an entire realm, Empress Khesia was typically consumed by official duties, and outside of mandatory public occasions, rarely enjoyed the chance for such an intimate, leisurely conversation. By the customs of his former role as prime minister, Lanqi should have been the first to open the topic, briefing the empress on the parliament's policy directions, developments in domestic and foreign affairs, and upcoming challenges. Yet times had changed. This lunch was no longer a meeting between emperor and prime minister as in the past. It felt more like... Simply a meal shared between old friends. After a moment. "Is Your Majesty hungry now?" Lanqi's sudden question broke the silence, leaving both the empress and Boss Cat, who was peeking from his lap, utterly dumbfounded. Boss Cat vaguely recalled that when Lanqi first met Empress Khesia at Salem Palace in the Shadow World, he had asked the exact same question. *Have you gotten so used to living with Tata that you see Tata in everyone?!* Boss Cat suspected that ever since Lanqi's few dates with Tata, his database had been corrupted; now, even when meeting an ordinary woman, he instinctively defaulted to the rule that "asking someone out equals having a meal." "Heh heh." The inquiry drew a helpless laugh from Empress Khesia. Last time, they had both been speechless because they were unfamiliar; this time, neither spoke because they were all too familiar. Yet he still used this exact opening line. "Your Holiness the Pope seems to have quite an appetite?" After a moment's thought, the empress returned the question in kind. A slightly playful expression touched her beautiful countenance. "Quite the contrary. I had a proper breakfast, and noon arrived in the blink of an eye. Rather than dining, I believe what matters more is having a good conversation with Your Majesty." Lanqi shook his head, a weary smile curving his lips. He had already deduced just now that the masked, white-robed pope in the painting was none other than himself in his current attire. Boss Cat, on the other hand, nearly jumped out of its skin. It looked up at the white-robed Lanqi and the silver mask on his face. *He really is the pope?!* *If this fellow has become a religious figurehead, the world is doomed.* "You are exceptionally courteous today, just like the prime minister I first met all those years ago. It brings back fond memories," the empress replied, looking down. "What, have you come to terms with things? Or do you truly intend to retire for good this time?" Her expression softened, and she slowed her pace, asking Lanqi in a sincere tone. "..." Lanqi remained silent, not yet grasping what Empress Khesia meant. Khesia fixed her piercing gaze on the man before her, an enigma even after more than a decade of acquaintance. "Lankeluosi, I am truly glad to see you again. Every single day, I dread hearing terrible news about you." Empress Khesia finally lowered her eyes and spoke once more. "You carry far too many secrets. From assuming the name Wilfort and spending nearly twenty years climbing to the pinnacle of Polant's political arena... even then, I never imagined that you were actually a citizen of the Horning Empire." As one of the pope's few friends—or rather, one of his few surviving friends—she knew the pope's secrets and his past. Ever since he underwent the modifications in the Horning Empire's testing grounds, his time had been permanently frozen at that moment. Strictly speaking, such an artificially created taboo product was known as a demonic human. Neither demon nor human. The mortality rate of the demonic human alteration surgery was extraordinarily high; only after enduring countless devastations was there a sliver of hope for success. To a certain extent, it was equivalent to abandoning one's own species, turning oneself into an unrecognizable monster. As a side effect, not only did they lack the longevity of true demons, but their lifespans were drastically shortened even compared to ordinary humans. For Lankeluosi, perhaps living into his forties was already a miracle. At every waking second, he likely endured unimaginable agony, defying the Reaper entirely through the sheer tenacity of his soul, propping up a body on the verge of collapse to see his final tasks to completion. "..." The white-robed man seated opposite her remained utterly silent. "Lankeluosi, if you do not wish to speak, you don't have to say a word. Just listen to me." Empress Khesia continued in a gentle voice. She had anticipated this lunch to be a grueling ordeal, yet it had become easy and relaxed thanks to Lanqi's earlier remark. Lankeluosi was always changing, yet his green eyes invariably revealed a touch of sincerity and humility. She could tell that, unlike most dignitaries, although the man before her possessed a sense of duty, he had no lust for power. That was why, no matter how bizarre and inscrutable he was, she was willing to treat him with genuine candor. "To be honest, over the years, the more I've come to understand you, the more of a stranger you feel." She looked toward Lanqi. "Regardless, I will help you. After you pass, I will keep your secrets safe. An everlasting, honorable legacy is what you deserve." Empress Khesia promised him. "My thanks, Your Majesty." Lanqi replied. Because the nation followed the Holy Polant Church, the pope held an exceptionally lofty voice in this country, even surpassing that of the monarch in practice. On many matters of policy, the reigning emperor was required to heed the pope's counsel. At this point, Lanqi had roughly pieced together the narrative of the past twelve years. During the initial nine years of the war, the church he led had made outstanding contributions in resisting the Horning Empire, and its religious authority had grown ever greater. On the surface, Prime Minister Wilfort and Pope Lankeluosi occupied opposing poles of power; no one could have guessed that Prime Minister Wilfort's alter ego was in fact the leader of the church. In the shadows, he had continually yielded secular governance to ecclesiastical authority, ultimately staging a consummate curtain call for himself to proclaim the retreat of state power and the rise of the theocracy. Thus, over the subsequent three years, Prime Minister Wilfort had become history, and a pope reigning supreme over imperial authority had been born. And now... It seemed the pope's time was drawing near, and the empress, as an old friend, wished to see him off on his final journey. "I only hope I will never need to display my talents. A Holy Polant Theocracy that has no need of me is what truly makes a splendid realm." Lanqi responded with open ease, his tone devoid of the slightest pretense. This Shadow World seemed to represent the final chapter of Lankeluosi of the Black Sun's life. During the second Shadow World, Lanqi had read of the price of human demonic aberration in the library of Lichtenstein Castle on the Horning Empire's border. Demonic humans like Lankeluosi, who underwent immature artificial modifications in the empire's testing grounds in their early years, rarely lived past thirty. By calculation, Lankeluosi was nearly forty-nine in this timeline. Even Lanqi found it somewhat difficult to fathom how he was still alive. Nevertheless, the advantages accumulated over the first three Shadow Worlds had finally bought a wonderful ending. "You haven't changed at all," Empress Khesia remarked from the bottom of her heart, gazing into Lanqi's eyes as a wave of guilt and heartache welled within her. She could never forget that when Prime Minister Wilfort first met her, he had answered in the very same way. Even if the empire let him down, he would never let down the empire. "You said you aren't hungry, and I have said everything I wished to say to you. I won't take up any more of your time here. Please return to the Papal Court." Empress Khesia wiped the corner of her eyes and managed a parting smile for an old friend as she spoke to Lanqi. "Farewell, Your Majesty." Lanqi stood, bowed once more to Khesia, and took his leave. After entering this Shadow World, so much time had passed without a single system prompt, making him feel that he shouldn't linger here to eat. He needed to quickly find out more about this era. Such as the Demon Realm. Or his friends from this era. Since he had won, his Shadow World companions ought to have achieved a happy reunion as well. "Yes, farewell." Empress Khesia waved to him. Escorted by the guards, Lanqi passed through corridor after corridor. He stepped out through the ornate gates of Salem Palace and arrived at the entrance. The streets of Hersalem bustled with activity as citizens went about their day, the din of the city echoing on either side of him. It was different from over a decade ago. Hope shone in the people's eyes. The haze of terror had been dispelled. The city was vibrant once more. Having concluded his meeting with Empress Khesia, as the Holy Polant Pope, he was scheduled to return to his Papal Court. The moment Lanqi's figure appeared at the entrance of the imperial residence, the members of the Temple Knights who had long been waiting dropped to their knees, as if bearing witness to the descent of a deity. They were clad in silver armor adorned with the divine crest of Holy Polant on their chests, gripping sharp lances like guardians of the heavens. "Our Lord, His Holiness the Pope arrives!" "Glory—and praise—" With the Knight Commander's loud, soaring chant, a unified chorus of praise roared into the sky like a surging tide. Lanqi strode forward at an unhurried pace, followed by several clerics in magnificent revelatory vestments who respectfully attended him on either side. Next came the ride back to the Holy Polant Papal Court in a temple carriage. Over ten minutes later. The grand fortress perched atop the imperial capital's peak became faintly visible. Just as depicted in the palace's oil paintings, it gleamed with a solemn, sacred radiance beneath the afternoon sun as it always had. Along the way, Lanqi gazed out the carriage window from behind his mask. Occasionally, he caught sight of an elderly couple holding the relics of a young officer, praying through tearful eyes; a young girl carrying freshly blossomed lilies, curtsying shyly; and children excitedly clambering onto their parents' shoulders, craning their small necks to watch the Papal Court's carriage. Lanqi watched in silence. Before he knew it, the carriage had slowed to a stop before the Holy Polant Papal Court. Situated at the highest point of the imperial capital of Hersalem, the Papal Court served as the residence and central seat of power for the Holy Polant Pope. Its outer walls were built of solid stone, with spires soaring into the clouds. A massive stained-glass window dominated the facade of the grand hall, surrounded by chalk-stone ramparts and defensive towers. Beyond these foundational outer structures, the core sanctum was the Throne Room of the Holy Polant Pope. Lanqi's footsteps echoed across the pristine stone steps as glittering lamps were lit within the Papal Court. Passing through the ranks of silver-armored Temple Knights, he entered the main doors of the court. The heavy doors slowly shut, sealing out the clamor of the mortal realm. The vast sanctuary was dimly lit, illuminated only by a few slanting rays of sunlight filtering through the window frames, casting heavenly light upon the red carpet before the altar. Lanqi walked slowly toward the throne. Behind him, clerics took their places on either side, closing the towering, several-meter-tall dark-gold doors of the Throne Room for him. "..." Standing before the throne, he was in no hurry to take his seat. Instead, he turned toward a mirror along the hall's wall. Reflected in the glass was a figure, tall and upright. The reason he might be mistaken for an old man was likely that, with his youthful face concealed, his snow-white hair gave off precisely that impression. The outer layer of his pure white robe was embroidered with gold thread, its hem and cuffs trimmed in gold, worn over a deep crimson lining adorned with the religious patterns of the Trinity. "Heh, I've become the pope?" Lanqi removed the silver-white mask before the mirror. In this Shadow World, his attire had already been transformed into papal vestments, and his hair dyed pure white. Standing before the mirror with the mask on, he hadn't even recognized himself. "Wait, Lanqi, it seems you have an extra debuff on you," Talia suddenly warned. She noticed that an unusual status had attached itself to Lanqi after he entered the Shadow World. It had been concealed so deeply that only now, inside the Throne Room where she could safely utilize her mana, was she able to appraise it. [Mind Laceration] [Category: Debuff] [Quality: Epic] [Attribute: Mental] [Tier: 9] [Aftereffects from battle with Duke Rasheal, the Third Progenitor.] Talia shared the information with Lanqi through her mind. "...I feel fine, actually," Lanqi replied after carefully probing his condition. He didn't feel weakened or uncomfortable. Or perhaps his spell resistance was simply high enough on its own. "Take care of yourself. If you feel anything unusual, tell me immediately," Talia instructed. "Thank you, Master." Lanqi put the mask back on, regaining his papal aura. "So this is my Holy Polant Theocracy today." Lanqi walked over to a wall carved with a map and stood with his hands behind his back, looking over the world's borders. Even without deliberately acting, the moment he donned this attire, the presence came naturally to him. "Right now, you really feel like some ultimate mastermind behind the scenes, meow!" Boss Cat poked its head out of the shadow, shivering at the sight of Lanqi like this. Normally, in storybooks, a mysterious figure who held supreme power and appeared righteous and grand on the surface—especially a pope—was never anything good! "Don't scoff, but the territory of the Holy Polant Theocracy is now larger than anyone could have imagined. It's practically the Northern Continent's version of the Creti Empire. Even if it doesn't match the Horning Empire at its height when it swallowed the entire southern continent, it seems we now possess the strength to fight the Horning Empire head-on." Lanqi muttered to himself as he looked at the map, lightly tracing his finger through the air. "What on earth are you thinking, meow?!" Boss Cat had originally thought Lanqi's authority would be diminished in this Shadow World, but instead he had maintained his steady performance and climbed even higher. Before Boss Cat could say anything more, the long-delayed Shadow World notifications finally surfaced before their eyes. [Shadow World: Eternal Damnation Undying Finale] [Tier: 8] [Total Challengers: 9] Usually, when Shadow World prompts were delayed, it was because challengers from other Void Gate entrances had yet to arrive. Seeing this headcount, Lanqi felt relieved for now. Hyperion had apparently made it in on time as promised. [Twelve years ago, you withstood the pressure of parliament and became the light that illuminated the Polant Empire in the darkest hour of the northern and southern continents, igniting the courage and hope of the populace to mobilize the nation and wage war against the Horning Empire.] [Some old things died, but new life sprouted in their place. Though crosses multiplied across your graveyards, though your homes were reduced to blackened ruins, your people were resurrected, forcing the Blood Clan to witness unprecedented power.] [Through selfless actions and tireless efforts that disregarded your own life, you secured the final glory of the Polant Empire and turned the tide of humanity's destiny. The resolve of the entire Polant Empire began to reverse the Northern Continent's defeat. Though everything might be lost, the extinction of the nation was preferable to surrendering the ancestral homeland and falling into slavery. The empire began to stage its final elegy and its final performance, its last defiance, and its ultimate brilliance.] Just as before, the notification text continued to appear in his field of vision. [Through nine grueling years of warfare in alliance with the northern nations and the Demon Realm.] [You were victorious.] [Yet a tragic price was paid.] [It is precisely for this reason that this victory is so immensely precious.] [You have walked a long road, shining brightly like the stars. You cared nothing for the fates of the past, even if they went unknown to the world; compared to memories that have vanished without a trace, impossible to describe in beloved words, you fall deeper and deeper into the tranquil embrace of dreams.] [People celebrate and rejoice in this hard-won peace, holding fast to their visions of happiness, eagerly awaiting the return of a golden age.] [Y·O·U · H·A·V·E · F·A·L·L·E·N · I·N·T·O · U·T·T·E·R · L·O·S·S.] Abruptly, the script of the Shadow World turned a fractured, twisted dark red. Piercing screams and wails began to reverberate in Lanqi's ears, along with unquenchable fires rising furiously, echoing with calamity as the soul collapsed out of control. Disasters ran rampant, flames blazed high, an eye-searing red. He instinctively clutched his eyes, feeling a jolt of sharp, neurological pain. "What happened to you?" Talia sensed something amiss with Lanqi and asked anxiously in his mind. "It's nothing. Just now felt like I fell under an illusion... It seems that debuff I arrived with in this Shadow World is acting up... It affects me from time to time." When Lanqi blinked again and looked at the Shadow World notifications, that final sentence had already vanished. As expected, he had simply misread it. [A solitary soul is required to sacrifice, one chosen from thousands to stand above the rest.] [Whenever you count the stars in the night sky, you wonder why someone had to perish.] [And why you were the one who survived in the end.] [In the final days of your life, you are only one step away from your dream, yet seem separated from it by ten thousand leagues...] [Objective 1: Read the letter from your old friend Caliera. (Incomplete)] [Objective 2: Understand the state of mind of Lankeluosi of the Black Sun. (Incomplete)] [Objective 3: All challengers must survive until the 21-day time limit expires.]