The Black Sun Tyrant's Hour of Blessing

"Huh? Why is there an option to interrogate the townsfolk under torture? Did Lankeluosi actually consider doing that back then?" Talia voiced her confusion after reading through the choices. The dignified, imposing Lankeluosi she had always imagined suddenly seemed a bit too much like Lanqi. *Hey, I wouldn't do something like that either, okay?* Lanqi replied telepathically, feeling that Talia was unfairly prejudiced against him. *Fair enough,* Talia conceded after some thought. She figured Lanqi would have chosen a far more elegant method of interrogation instead. After all, in her eyes, Lanqi never personally handled the dirty work, nor did he get his hands bloody. Yet he possessed far too many ways to make people utterly miserable. *I'd have a good heart-to-heart with them about dreams and the future, getting them to fall in love with me willingly and form a collective consciousness.* Lanqi pondered how he would eliminate options and arrive at the optimal solution if he were facing this problem himself. Rooting out moles had always been his forte. Back at Lichtenstein Castle, he had left those two impostors with nowhere to hide. *You call that dreams and the future?* Talia challenged him. *That's freaking multi-level marketing and brainwashing!* "..." Sitting inside the church of Rielm Town in Hansabeck Province, Lanqi hesitated before the old mayor's question. His gaze fell upon the elderly mayor, yet also rested on the rose window behind him. This was clearly a trigger for a pivotal event. He couldn't pick Option A and just slack off doing nothing. Interrogating the townsfolk under torture was too excessive as well. "Let's accept the commission." Lanqi didn't discuss it with Talia at length before locking in Option C. Following Talia's train of thought, she would likely have made the same choice. He cast his gaze toward the third option on the rose window and nodded. [You have accepted a commission in a small town on the border of Hansabeck, a central province of the Horning Empire.] [Disregarding how little time you have left and indifferent to whether you can ever return home, you are certain that the matter before you is of paramount importance. Convinced that these events are deeply tied to your concerns, you begin your investigation.] The transparent lettering from the Mirror of Tiberius on the rose window continued crawling like worms. Lanqi's perspective began to shift. [Within this province named Hansabeck lies an ancient city-state—Solen.] Situated in northern Hansabeck, the midday sun refracted through its stained-glass windows in dazzling bursts of color, illuminating the quaint, elegant architecture within Solen. On this day, Solen welcomed an itinerant merchant. The traveling merchant, Randall, had gentle eyes and mild facial features, while his understated gray garments made him appear all the more modest. Though he seemed like an ordinary trader on the surface, he wielded power unknown to anyone. [As the first step in your investigation, you head directly to the Solen branch of the Prosperity Chamber of Commerce, to which "Randall" belongs.] [Here, you can enjoy many conveniences—not only gathering intelligence by ear, but also purchasing it outright.] The moment Lanqi stepped through the doors of the merchant guild, he overheard the hushed murmurs of Solen's traders. "I heard someone spotted a demonkin in the woods on the outskirts of Viock City to the south last night." "A demonkin? Isn't that just a creature from rumors? Does such a thing really exist?" "Who knows? Doesn't seem like just a rumor anymore. Sightings and victims are piling up. The empire can't keep a lid on the news any longer." [Listening to the idle chatter of the crowd, you weave your way through them.] "Tch, with the Blood Clan watching over us, what are we afraid of? Could a demonkin really turn the world upside down and slaughter every last one of us?" Someone scoffed at the idea. In their eyes, demonkin were nothing more than preposterous rumors concocted by the ignorant. During times like these, ordinary folk struggled to tell truth from falsehood, holding fractured views on facts capable of sparking mass panic. Lanqi walked silently through the guildhall, offering no opinion. "If the rumors have spread to this extent, it's almost certainly true," Talia said to Lanqi. Having witnessed the events of Palieu, the City of Flowers, firsthand, she understood this kind of situation all too well. The demonkin were likely real. Moreover, the gravity of the problem far exceeded what had happened back in Palieu in the Kingdom of Posen. Yet she couldn't fathom where these demonkin had come from. By all logic, Lankeluosi was supposed to have been the last demonkin. "Then we have to catch one and see for ourselves." Lanqi was convinced that fulfilling the old mayor's commission did not conflict with Lankeluosi's personal goal. As long as he could track down a lead on the demonkin and come face-to-face with one, certain mysteries would unravel on their own. And in the accelerated simulation of the Mirror of Tiberius, he should be able to see the results very soon. [You present your guild credentials to the receptionist at the counter and are immediately accorded top-tier hospitality. The local branch president invites you to the VIP lounge for a private discussion.] ... Inside the luxurious VIP lounge on the guild's top floor. Several wealthy merchants dressed in exquisite attire sat around a low rosewood tea table, conversing. "Speaking of which, these demonkin rumors have certainly added a bit of excitement. The experts at my manor are already debating what a demonkin looks like," one wealthy merchant quipped. "Our city is actually doing fine. It's mainly Viock City further to the south—it seems demonkin have indeed appeared there." "There's practically no doubt about it. It has to be a demonkin." Today, a high-ranking traveling auditor named Randall had arrived at the city-state's merchant guild. When Mr. Randall expressed a desire to learn about the demonkin, the guild president gathered them here to introduce them to him. As prominent figures of the city-state, they were naturally among the first to obtain intelligence. "Utterly idiotic," a middle-aged man with an aquiline nose sneered sarcastically. "Demonkin are just fairy tales concocted by madmen to fool three-year-olds." He mimicked the voices of ordinary citizens, deliberately mocking those who refused to believe in the demonkin's existence. Yet the topic of demonkin did not fade simply because of the disdain of certain townsfolk. Over the past two days, shocking news had swept through Solen— To the south in Viock City, two knights returning late from patrol on the city outskirts were ambushed. Witnesses claimed the attacker was a hideous monster covered in scales, with blood-red eyes. Rumors ran rampant, stoking widespread panic. If a fellow city-state in the same province had fallen prey, Solen would inevitably be targeted sooner or later. "The mayor of Viock has already sent requests for aid to Hansabeck Province and the imperial capital, St. Trick. We've also stepped up nighttime patrols these past few days to guarantee the safety of our citizens. Still, to avoid sparking excessive panic, our city has refrained from exaggerating the threat of demonkin for the time being," the merchants in the VIP lounge discussed. Lanqi sat quietly to the side, listening and nodding occasionally. Several magical lamps burned along the wall, casting their flickering silhouettes onto the wood paneling. Eventually, the entire scene dimmed. When Lanqi could see his surroundings clearly again, he was no longer inside the guild's VIP lounge. [Acting on the intelligence you gathered, you arrive at the southern city-state of Viock City—specifically, the outskirts where demonkin are most likely to appear.] [You notice that the further south you travel, the more certain the reports of demonkin become.] [Viock City harbors neither Blood Clan nor demons; it is populated entirely by humans.] [After casting detection magic, you confirm this fact beyond doubt. It is almost as if demonkin do not exist at all.] [You realize that this is precisely why the demonkin incite such panic—people cannot even verify whether they are real or fake.] Night fell. A full moon hung high in the sky, shedding cold, silver light like liquid mercury. Carrying his briefcase, Lanqi wandered through the vicinity with the clueless air of a merchant who had just arrived in the city. "This is no time for wandering around!" A voice shouted from behind him. Lanqi turned and took a closer look. It was a handful of patrol knights from Viock City. The knights looked nervous, as if forced into undertaking this perilous patrol duty against their will. Likewise, seeing a young man roaming aimlessly on the outskirts at night naturally caused them to wonder—and fear—whether he might transform into a demonkin at any moment. "My apologies." Lanqi raised his hands to show he meant no harm. [You speak with the knights, identifying yourself as a demon hunter and displaying a measure of your tier-five or higher prowess.] [The knights immediately look upon you as their savior.] [For against a powerhouse of your caliber, they would have no way to resist if you truly intended them harm. Thus, they readily believe you are a hunter here to help them deal with the demonkin.] [Following a brief discussion, your relationship with them grows closer.] [The knights agree to cooperate with your sting operation, turning a blind eye to your wandering and promising to call for you at the first sight of a demonkin.] [You glean a bit more intelligence from the knights.] [There seems to be more than one demonkin lurking on the outskirts.] "Ah, Mr. Randall, we leave it in your hands," the lead knight said gratefully. "If you spot a demonkin, act quickly. Don't panic, and don't try to engage it in battle. Just call out for me immediately, and I'll arrive in no time," Lanqi instructed the knights. Watching the knights scurry off into the distance, he shook his head in secret. These knights seemed brave enough, stepping forward in the face of danger to take on a nighttime patrol that no one else was willing to do. [You continue forward, cutting through a dense forest in the southeastern corner of the outskirts.] Suddenly, a strange, rancid stench drifted toward him—the bloody odor of a wild beast being devoured. Lanqi scanned his surroundings, his eyes settling on a drainage ditch not far away. Although detection magic failed to locate the demonkin, certain physical traces left clues that could not be erased. "Looks like it's time to pay a visit," he murmured to himself. He approached the drainage ditch soundlessly. Aided by the faint glimmer of the magical artifact inside his briefcase, he examined the surrounding traces closely. Clear claw marks, snapped branches and leaves, and splatters of blood were visible everywhere. Lanqi noticed two different sets of deformed footprints on the ground—one large, one small. "It really seems like there's more than one demonkin..." Talia was growing somewhat frightened as well. She could only watch each scene unfold without manifesting physically, exactly like watching a horror movie. Speaking to Lanqi was her only source of comfort. *Master, don't be afraid. It's already here.* Lanqi's eyes locked onto the deep, dark forest ahead. The moment his words fell, a biting wind swept past, rustling the shadowy trees. A red glow pierced the darkness. A grotesque, twisted form emerged—half-man, half-beast. It let out a shrill wail intermingled with cackles of laughter, madness dancing within its blood-rimmed eye sockets. [You encounter a demonkin.] [It is smaller than you imagined.] [Just as you are about to subdue it—] [You sense something amiss, and you hesitate.] [Is it crying, or is it laughing? Is it projecting murderous intent toward you, or is it trying to convey something... begging for your help?] [You hear panicked cries for help.] "Help! It's a demonkin!" From the other side of the outskirts, the knights' shouts reached Lanqi's ears. [Without a moment's hesitation, you rush to save the knights first.] [Human lives are fleeting and can be snuffed out in an instant.] Meanwhile, a terrifying demonkin loomed over the knights. This was an authentic large-scale demonkin. Just as despair overtook them in that hair-raising moment, a dazzling beam of auroral light tore through the night sky, striking the demonkin square in the shoulder. The demonkin howled in agony and collapsed to the ground, blood gushing from its wound. "Mr. Randall!" the knights shouted in pleasant surprise toward the distance. They hadn't expected this demon hunter to arrive so astonishingly fast. The traveling merchant strode forward holding an oil lamp, marching briskly toward them. [Your strike did not miss; you merely wanted to subdue the demonkin rather than kill it, for you have many questions to ask.] [This demonkin is larger than the one in the forest, standing a full two meters tall.] [Believing the demonkin possesses reason, you wish to speak with it.] [Yet before you can speak—] [The demonkin lets out an enraged snarl and pounces furiously at you.] [Unwilling to display excessive power before these knights, and aiming to keep a low profile without alerting the Horning Empire, you resort to spells you are less accustomed to using, seeking to capture the demonkin while ensuring the knights' protection.] Lanqi sidestepped the charge, causing a flurry of jagged stone spikes to thrust upward from the ground, piercing the demonkin. The creature screamed in agony, fury blazing in its crimson eyes as it lunged at Lanqi once more. In that fleeting instant, the ground beneath Lanqi lit up. Several golden chains burst forth from a magic circle, wrapping around the demonkin's limbs and torso in the blink of an eye. The demonkin was bound tightly, unable to move. Lanqi stepped forward with steady paces, watching the creature as he prepared to deliver a finishing strike. "Roaaar!" Without warning, the demonkin threw open its maw and spewed a stream of viscous, foul-smelling venom straight at Lanqi. Unable to dodge in time, Lanqi took the full brunt of the strike on his left arm. Seizing the moment while Lanqi recoiled in pain, the demonkin tore free of its bindings and fled frantically into the depths of the forest. "Mr. Randall, are you alright?" Several knights rushed over in concern. "I'm fine." [In truth, you were merely acting, for a demonkin like this could never wound you.] [Had you captured it before the knights, you would have had to hand it over to them and the city authorities, making it inconvenient to investigate privately. Thus, you deliberately let it escape. Having tracked its path, you intend to capture it alone.] [You instruct the knights not to wander off, promising to return shortly.] As the night grew deeper, Lanqi traversed the woods in search of the demonkin's trail. He had resumed experiencing this illusion firsthand. Along the way, intermittent blood splatters and claw marks allowed him to maintain a relentless pursuit. Finally, within a secluded forest basin, he spotted the dying demonkin and a smaller demonkin snuggled beside it. The wounds across the large demonkin's body had been inflicted by Lanqi himself. The smaller demonkin nuzzled its head against the larger one's chin, letting out intermittent giggles. It appeared to be laughing, but was actually crying, as if pleading for the other not to leave. Lanqi's footsteps froze. The raw emotion made him dizzy. *No, wait... why does this demonkin pair look so much like... a mother and child?* Talia was beginning to understand their true plight as well. Their madness seemed beyond their control, yet remnants of human affection still lingered within them. It was as though an innocent, ordinary mother and child had been forcefully converted into these monsters by someone. "Demonkin were originally humans modified through surgical procedures..." Lanqi murmured, clutching his forehead. Just then, a rustling sound came from behind him. "..." Lanqi turned around to find several knights creeping out from behind the bushes, trembling. Evidently, remaining in place had left them uneasy, so they had followed Mr. Randall after all. "Mr. Randall, please wait!" The lead knight gathered his courage and said, "This demonkin... seems different somehow..." A troubled look crossed his face. "In what way?" Lanqi asked, furrowing his brow. "I noticed that it seems to understand human speech, and..." The lead knight's gaze drifted toward the smaller demonkin. "Perhaps they don't want to hurt anyone. Maybe they were just foraging in this forest. Could we try communicating with them?" he suggested hesitantly. [Among the knights, someone has clearly realized the same thing as you.] [The manner in which you let the demonkin escape allowed the knight to discern even more.] [Matters have grown troublesome.] As Lanqi spoke with the knights, the demonkin mother lying on the ground suddenly stirred. With great effort, she raised her head and looked in Lanqi's direction. Within those dying eyes, a peculiar glimmer flickered. It was as though she were begging him for something. Lanqi froze. The next second, he abruptly pointed a finger, sending a fierce gust of wind that knocked the knights flat on their backs. Immediately after, brilliant flames erupted from the forest floor, engulfing both mother and child in an instant. Flames licked hungrily, scattering ash into the wind. In a flash, nothing remained in the basin but dead silence. The knights stared agape, speechless. "Do not gamble with your lives." Lanqi's face was cast in shadow. Carrying his briefcase, he turned and walked away without looking back. The vast night stretched on, moonlight pouring like water over the tiles and bricks of Viock City. Everything returned to calm. It was as though this night had been nothing more than a fleeting nightmare. *Lanqi, why did you kill them?* Talia asked in confusion. This was the first time she had seen Lanqi act so ruthlessly. Since the Mirror of Tiberius had fully surrendered the illusion experience to Lanqi, it meant that whichever choice he made in this segment would not affect the subsequent simulation. Or rather, the moment he saw the demonkin mother and child, the truth had already surfaced without any need for conversation or interrogation. "She was begging me for release... A mother's instinct drove her to protect her child, while her human will pleaded for death." Lanqi bit his lip, deep sorrow and pity filling his eyes. The look in the demonkin mother's eyes before her death lingered relentlessly in his mind. *...Were they truly beyond saving?* Talia had rarely seen Lanqi admit so decisively that someone was beyond his help. She knew what a massive subversion making this decision was for him. "Talia, do you remember the background story of Purgatory Corridor Academy during our first Shadow World?" Lanqi asked in a dry voice. *Roughly, yes.* Talia had also reviewed the records of that Shadow World with Lanqi and Hyperion. The entire story had revolved around two pivotal figures: the Blood Clan Envoy and the Demon Lord's Castle Special Commissioner. Under the historical backdrop of that era, there had existed a "Blood Clan and Demon Non-Aggression Pact" known as the *North-South Treaty*. In those tumultuous times, the Blood Clan of the south reigned supreme, and the emperors of numerous human realms were mere thralls to them. The demons of the north were relatively weaker compared to the Blood Clan, possessing only the natural barrier of the extreme northern glaciers to cut themselves off. Regarding any affair between the Blood Clan and humanity, the demons had to maintain strict neutrality—that was the fundamental condition for the Blood Clan refraining from attacking them. Yet over thirty years ago, the Blood Clan began suspecting that the demons were covertly attempting to disrupt that balance. The root cause had initially been a preposterous rumor circulating through the Demon Realm— It was said that the Blood Clan had discovered humans allegedly disguised as demons, attempting to infiltrate the Demon Realm to secretly learn demonic knowledge. At first, the demons refused to believe it. It was usually demons attempting to disguise themselves as humans, never the other way around. Later, however, a Blood Clan Grand Duke appeared to have brutally extracted critical intelligence from researchers at an imperial proving ground. Furthermore, they learned that a handful of surviving members from an imperial secret unit were highly likely lurking within Purgatory Corridor Academy—and had been there for a long time! Faced with unyielding pressure from the Blood Clan, the Demon Realm Inspectorate maintained a resolute stance of going strictly by the book. They guided the Blood Clan envoy across the northern frozen hazards into the Demon Realm, accompanying the envoy to investigate the academy. That Blood Clan envoy possessed a unique blood authority capable of detecting humans disguised as demons. If humans were truly discovered in the academy, the leadership of Purgatory Corridor Academy would bear monumental responsibility. To quell the Blood Clan's wrath, the demons might even have offered up the academy's upper echelon as scapegoats. Furthermore, to prevent the headmaster from interfering, the Department of Education had reassigned him beforehand under the pretext of "urgent business," essentially sidelining him temporarily. The Demon Lord acted strictly by the book on the surface, but secretly wanted to protect Purgatory Corridor Academy, sending a special commissioner to assist them. Yet to everyone's surprise, that special commissioner was intercepted by the demonkin Lankeluosi, who was hiding and studying within Purgatory Corridor Academy. A fake demon, a fake commissioner, and a fake headmaster, Lankeluosi possessed genuine capability. Living up to the heavy burden, he successfully steered Purgatory Corridor Academy through the crisis. That had been the prelude to the legendary saga of the Lord of the Black Sun. "So think about it, Tata: how were demonkin created in the first place? Can they be saved? And where would that modification technology be right now?" Lanqi asked Talia in a flat tone. The demonkin modification surgery was irreversible. That mother and child, much like the failed specimens from the Horning Empire's proving grounds back then, could only endure endless agony and struggle. Lanqi looked toward the moonlight, already knowing the answer. [The operational protocol of the Horning Empire's proving grounds was clear: should modification fail, one must willingly accept death. At the same time, every soldier undergoing modification would plead with their comrades beforehand: if they failed, their comrades must kill them to preserve their final shred of human dignity.] [Slaying failed demonkin was a resolve borne of sorrow and hope by the soldiers of the Horning Empire's proving grounds—it was their creed and conviction.] [Yet today, someone is abusing that modification technology, creating even more failed demonkin.] [You will never permit such atrocities to continue.] "?!" Talia was struck with sudden realization, lost for words. *The Blood Clan is using the civilians of the Horning Empire to conduct demonkin modification experiments?!* [Years ago, during your infiltration of Purgatory Corridor Academy, you heard from the vice headmaster that the Blood Clan suspected humans had sneaked into the academy precisely because they had interrogated survivors from the Horning Empire's proving grounds.] [And the Horning Empire's fleeting, supposedly lost demonkin modification technology must now reside in the hands of the Blood Clan.] [The birth of demonkin is inextricably tied to the Blood Clan.] [The ultimate answer often lies at the very beginning.] [You realize that everything is connected.] The surrounding thickets began to warp, and the lettering of the Mirror of Tiberius materialized along the trunk of a great tree. [You are certain that the Blood Clan has not chosen coexistence with humanity as they appear to have done on the surface; rather, they are plotting something far more terrifying. What will you choose next?] [A. Turn a blind eye] [B. Head straight for the capital] [C. Continue investigating] [D. Intervene personally] [Time Remaining: 2 days, 23 hours, 31 minutes] [You have grown considerably weaker; you clearly sense that you have fallen below tier nine.] *What do we choose, Lanqi?* Talia felt that they were nearing the end of the simulation. Lankeluosi had a little over two days left. Yet whether continuing the investigation or journeying to the distant capital of Horning, St. Trick, both options would consume far more time. "To the capital, St. Trick." Lanqi made his choice faster this time than ever before. Perhaps by continuing to investigate, he could obtain more intelligence for the next simulation. Yet if he did, he would never get to face those Blood Clan members living comfortably in the capital. If he didn't go risk his life against the Blood Clan today, he wouldn't even be able to sleep peacefully. Sure enough, the revelation Caliera had shown him was of paramount importance. The era of the Blood Moon Ruined World had not ended so simply. If Pope Lankeluosi had died peacefully like that, he would have left behind an even greater catastrophe for this world. *Then let's slaughter them!* Talia backed Lanqi unconditionally. Previously, Lanqi had opted for relatively conservative choices. Only this time... This was utterly intolerable! [Beneath the gaze of starlight, the valley is deep, the forest dark.] [The betrayal born of trust and righteousness.] [Has ignited fury.] [Just as they have always done.] [Their sins, their unrepentant cruelty, their atrocities.] [We are the witnesses.] [The truth shall endure forever.] [Deliver the final judgment.] Once the demonic script across the trees finished manifesting, the sky began flickering between light and shadow. Lanqi once again felt his surroundings shift abruptly, continuing to fly southward for an extended period. Two days and nights passed. He finally arrived at the southernmost capital of the Horning Empire, St. Trick. On this brilliantly illuminated night, the entire capital of St. Trick glittered like a resplendent jewel. Looking down from high above, the winding Rhine River resembled a gleaming ribbon dividing the city in two. Along the riverbank, St. Trick Cathedral—which Lankeluosi had once seen in his dreams—stood towering and majestic. Nearby, in the center of Horning Imperial Square, stood statues of ancient heroes. Even at night, the square teemed with crowds, and street performers drew bustling rings of spectators. On the southern bank of the river, the iconic Moonlight Tower pierced the sky, the viewing platform atop it gleaming brilliantly in the darkness. This was the dividing line. Human territory lay to the north; the enclave partitioned for the Blood Clan lay to the south. [Upon arriving in the capital, St. Trick, you first enter the human territory on the north bank.] [You learn of the current state of affairs in St. Trick.] [Although demonkin incursions occur from time to time, the citizens are not overly frightened.] [You begin questioning the residents of St. Trick along the streets.] "Because the Blood Clan has always been protecting us!" a pedestrian replied. [Whenever demonkin are mentioned, the citizens answer you warmly and enthusiastically.] "The Blood Clan are good folk. It's a shame those hypocrites up in the northern Sanctprant Theocracy love smearing them. If not for the Theocracy, the Blood Clan might have wiped out all the demons by now." "The demonkin are definitely connected to the demons. If not for the demons, how could such deformed freaks exist? Those demons should've been eradicated long ago!" [Listening to the words of these former compatriots of the Horning Empire—] [You realize something.] [The times truly have changed.] Talia watched Lanqi interview the residents of St. Trick one by one along the streets. She looked at the smile on his face. Unable to tell whether it was Lankeluosi's smile or Lanqi's, she felt a gnawing pang of worry in her chest regardless. Right now, Talia could not view information regarding the Shadow World outside the Mirror of Tiberius, and thus could not tell what Lanqi's synchronization with Lankeluosi had reached. She found it utterly absurd as well. Not a single citizen believed the Blood Clan could be a threat. In the eyes of the Horning people, the stability and prosperity St. Trick enjoyed today were almost entirely owed to the assistance provided by their coexistence with the Blood Clan. Even the younger generation and children idolized the Blood Clan. ["What, exactly, is the Blood Clan?"] [Standing in the street, your voice trembles with a faint laugh as you ask this question.] The pedestrians on the street and the patrons before shopfronts abruptly halted whatever they were doing. In unison, they stood up, turned around, stomped heavily, and fixed their eyes directly upon you. "The Blood Clan are our friends!" Radiant, blissful smiles spread across the faces of St. Trick's residents as they chanted in unison. ["Hahahahaha!"] [You finally burst into hearty laughter.] [Your condition "Soul Laceration" expands at this moment.] [Whenever your emotions fluctuate violently, your most agonizing memories resurface, plunging you into excruciating pain and hallucinations. All you can do is force yourself to weep or laugh uncontrollably to endure those few seconds.] [Even your mana begins to waver. Soon, powerful beings across St. Trick sense the arrival of the Sanctprant Pope.] Beneath the veil of night, crowds flowed along the streets of St. Trick, with only a solitary figure alienated from the rest of the world, standing motionless and laughing. *Lanqi, can you hear me?* Talia's anxious voice echoed ethereally in Lanqi's ear. She knew that grief and sorrow were tearing through Lanqi's heart, yet he laughed uncontrollably, unable to stop even as he choked back sobs. The sound of that laughter brutally ripped at her heart, leaving Lanqi teetering on the brink of collapse. Yet she could not manifest to hold him. It was as if an invisible glass wall separated them, leaving her unable to touch Lanqi in the slightest. Talia had never seen Lanqi like this. Perhaps they had underestimated the tier-nine negative status of Soul Laceration, or perhaps Lanqi had fallen far too deep into this illusion without realizing it. "Haha..." Lanqi's laughter gradually subsided, and the look in his eyes began to shift. The lettering of the Mirror of Tiberius continued, crawling across the clothing of the pedestrians of St. Trick, forming dense, encircling rings of demonic script: [The Blood Clan has sensed your presence, as well as your weakened state.] [What will you choose next?] [A. Wreak wanton destruction] [B. Raid the Blood Realm] [C. Flee with all your might] [D. Intervene personally] [You are very weak.] Without a moment's hesitation. Lanqi chose to march straight into the Blood Clan's lair and face them head-on. Before he could even take a step toward the southern bank— The surrounding scenery warped violently. In a dizzying whirl, both he and Talia felt weightless, realizing they had been dragged into a boundary. Surrounding buildings and trees plummeted upward at breakneck speed, the roaring wind howling in their ears. He was plunging downward at staggering velocity, his vision filled entirely with the sight of an inverted city. Countless structures seemed embedded in the night, some upside down, others tilted at bizarre angles, defying the laws of gravity altogether. Luxurious wooden pavilions intertwined with castle-like stone walls, gleaming with a vibrant interplay of splendor and crimson. Lanqi kept his eyes wide open, certain that he was in freefall. *Is this... Blood Moon City?* Talia's heart pounded. She realized that Tiberius's journey was approaching its final act. Yet she had never imagined that the legendary Blood Moon City would appear before her very eyes. Amidst the endless fall, a colossal yet deserted city gradually came into view. Tier upon tier of houses stood packed closely together in jagged harmony, forming distinct geometric patterns of indentations and projections. The entire city seemed to stretch desperately toward the heavens, yet plunged helplessly toward the core of the earth. "..." Lanqi's figure continued falling. He could have fled upward, yet he plunged downward without hesitation, weaving through the layered architecture as if accepting the Blood Clan's invitation—he was here to fight. Grasping the silver-white mask, he fixed it over his face. The Pope shed his disguise, ready for battle. After drifting for who knew how long, an immense palace loomed over him. He watched wide corridors vanish suddenly only to reappear elsewhere, doors shift abruptly to open into entirely different spaces, and staircases spiral endlessly upward without destination. This was a narrow corridor lined with doors opening and closing incessantly, revealing bone-chilling sights—some rooms contained churning seas of blood, while others were pitch-black voids capable of swallowing everything. A faint metallic scent of blood drifted through the air, causing Lanqi's nose to wrinkle slightly. He knew this was the aura of the Blood Clan. Suddenly, an ornate sliding door swung open before him. He passed through, and his descent began to slow. Looking around, Lanqi found himself gently touching down in the center of a circular palace plaza. It resembled an altar. Or perhaps a gravestone prepared for someone. Thirteen gigantic stone pillars encircled the plaza, each carved with gemstone totems corresponding to a Progenitor. The moment his feet touched the ground, he inhaled deeply, sensing the mana of multiple Blood Clan Progenitors. "Welcome to Blood Moon City, Sanctprant Pope." A mocking voice echoed around the plaza like the proclamation of a deity. From the bottomless mist at the edge of the Blood King Palace plaza, the speaker gradually revealed himself. He looked no different from a twelve- or thirteen-year-old human boy, clad in a pure black velvet suit with the golden crest of a Horning noble embroidered on the lapel. His features were delicate, his porcelain skin pale, and smooth brown hair fell to his shoulders. At first glance, he seemed like an ordinary young master from a wealthy St. Trick family, yet looking straight into his eyes revealed crimson depths that harbored an age far beyond his outward appearance. "I truly didn't expect you to come. After all, I've spent all these years behaving myself in the Horning Empire." The Third Progenitor, Duke Rasheal, wore a faint smile, as if laughing at the folly of the world. The silver-masked Pope did not utter a single word to the Third Progenitor. A sphere of blazing white light erupted from his palm, shooting straight toward the heavens and illuminating all of Blood Moon City as bright as day. Countless brilliant specks of light converged rapidly in midair, forming a gigantic net of radiance that swept down over Blood Moon City. "Don't strike right off the bat, Your Holiness." A purplish-red magical barrier materialized swiftly around the Third Progenitor, Duke Rasheal, keeping the radiant net at bay. The two surges of mana clashed violently in midair, unleashing an ear-splitting roar. The Sanctprant Pope's veins trembled on the back of his hand as he strained to sustain his light magic at full power. Gradually, however, the clash bore no fruit. "So the invincible Sanctprant Pope amounts to nothing more than this," Duke Rasheal muttered. A magic circle spanning several kilometers materialized beneath his feet, releasing mana that far surpassed the Pope's earlier burst. Countless purplish-red specks of light swirled madly across the Blood King Palace, condensing into massive crimson serpents made of chains that roared toward the Pope's light formation, causing the very air to stagnate. The silver-masked Pope channeled his spells, rapidly forming a stone-sealing barrier before him. In the clash between the Sanctprant Pope and the Third Progenitor, hairline fractures crept across the stone shield, leaving it teetering on the verge of collapse. Countless blinding rays burst from the Pope, weaving thousands of light wheels in midair that surged toward Duke Rasheal with titanic force. Two destructive powers collided violently in the void, unleashing a roar that shook the entire Blood King Palace. Both spells shattered in an instant, canceling out each other's control on a massive scale. Blood trickled from beneath the Pope's mask as he gasped for breath. Opposite him, Duke Rasheal still appeared completely relaxed. "Tired already?" Duke Rasheal clenched his fist, asking with sheer flippancy. The Lord of the Black Sun's innate magic, forged specifically to counter the Blood Clan, could indeed allow him to fight one tier above his level against them, and outright obliterate a Blood Clan member of equal tier. Yet the problem now was— Duke Rasheal seemed to see right through the Sanctprant Pope's current condition. He didn't mind granting the Pope his wish and giving him a fight. However, on his home turf of the Blood King Palace, everything had to follow his rules. Raging flames—liquid fire of glaring crimson—swept across the plaza, turning the pitch-black Blood King Palace into a scarlet abyss. The flames began to scorch the Sanctprant Pope as well. "Don't just stand there, you lot. Come help me entertain our guest." Duke Rasheal turned around, casting a meaningful glance toward the sky with a smirk as he called out to several silhouettes lurking in the bloody mist at the edge of the plaza. "Then let's settle our grudges today!" In that split second, before the Sanctprant Pope could react— A figure had already appeared directly before him. The figure had furrowed brows and a provocative grin. He wore a military dress uniform that had burst open the moment his power erupted. His right fist thrust violently forward, striking the Sanctprant Pope directly in the cheek, poised to detonate everything in the next instant. The moment the detonation resounded through the Blood King Palace, dust and debris billowed as the Sanctprant Pope was sent flying. The savage force blasted the interior walls of the Blood King Palace, causing them to collapse like a surging tidal wave—a collision faster than thunder! The shockwave whipped up a gale that fluttered the hem of Duke Rasheal's coat in the distance. "Somerset, you really do hate our dear Pope, don't you?" Duke Rasheal teased, watching the wildly powerful Blood Clan figure. "I still can't fathom how I ever lost to this guy back then." The Eighth Progenitor, Marquis Somerset, cracked his knuckles, walking over to Duke Rasheal's side. Having seen Rasheal confirm the Pope's condition, he had dared to take the initiative and strike. Amidst the distant rubble of the Blood King Palace, the Pope struggled to his feet. The mana around him seemed to transform into pure lightning, continuously detonating cocoons of electricity. The Pope's profile was shrouded in shadow and firelight. The right side of his mask had shattered, and blood streamed down his cheek. When the Eighth Progenitor, Marquis Somerset, met the emerald gaze beneath the mask, he couldn't help but shiver. Before the Pope could even catch his breath, Duke Rasheal struck without warning. Countless purplish-red tongues of flame erupted from the earth, binding the Pope tightly in an instant. The pure lightning and mana around the Pope surged higher, yet those wicked tongues of fire clung to him, draining his power like crimson leeches. In the blink of an eye, Marquis Somerset sneered as if emboldening himself, throwing another punch. His fist roared down with titanic force, the wind carrying searing heat that felt tens of thousands of degrees hot, crimson light soaring to the heavens. Watching Marquis Somerset's fist descend, the Pope knew that any defensive spell would merely be disrupted and dismantled by Duke Rasheal once again. His mana surged frantically once more, opting for a direct collision against Marquis Somerset. "Bluffing, are we, Pope?!" Marquis Somerset laughed wildly, his fist gleaming with searing bloodlight as he smashed it viciously toward the Pope's face. Just before the fist could connect, the Pope's entire body erupted in brilliant light, condensing mana into blazing white prisms. The prisms expanded relentlessly until they shattered into pieces, dyeing the world pure white. A deafening roar reverberated through the Blood King Palace. The searing white radiance engulfed Marquis Somerset, blasting him into oblivion. After the blast subsided, silence reigned for a long time. "Damn bastard..." Marquis Somerset rose from the bloody mist, practically transformed into a man of blood. His entire body was charred, his cheek torn open to expose teeth, gums, and jawbone. "Careless, Somerset. Even in his weakened state, he's not someone you can take head-on," Duke Rasheal remarked with a chuckle. "Again!" Looking at his blood-soaked muscle, Marquis Somerset actually began to laugh. Having witnessed the Pope's condition, he was confident that he could inflict damage upon him now. "..." Pale-faced, the Pope endured as another fragment of his silver mask fell, struggling to keep his swaying body upright. That earlier strike had not been an optimal maneuver. With Marquis Somerset acting as a meat shield to trade blow for blow while Duke Rasheal harassed him from behind, he would find it immensely difficult to cope. Just as the Pope cast aside distracting thoughts to continue this desperate battle, a faint feminine fragrance drifted from nowhere. "It's time to end this farce." A cold young woman's voice came from the bloody mist. Dressed in a flowing dark-purple gown of sheer silk, she stepped into the Blood King Palace. Her eyes remained closed, her red lips pressed tight. Her eyelashes cast shadows in the firelight, accentuating the tear mole beneath her eye. The Pope was forced to turn his gaze toward this newly arrived Progenitor. "We originally hoped to wait until you died of natural causes. We never expected you to seek us out on your own, Sanctprant Pope," the Blood Clan Astrologer, Seventh Progenitor Marquis Heriteer, spoke. She could divine the future as well as provide healing and buffs. With her presence on the field, the burns inflicted upon the Eighth Progenitor by the holy radiance began to heal rapidly. At the same time, Duke Rasheal's mana and Marquis Somerset's physical aura surged higher. "..." Beneath the gap in his mask, the Pope's expression remained utterly unmoved as he gazed upon the three Blood Clan Progenitors surrounding him within the crimson Blood King Palace. "How could such an occasion go on without me? I rather fancy seeing if I can devour His Holiness's power myself." Before the clash could resume, another voice drifted forth. The bloody mist condensed into the Ninth Progenitor, Marquis Bernhard. He wore an off-white silk shirt paired with a black velvet vest, an emerald bowtie pinned to his collar. His wavy, golden-brown curls fell loosely across his brow, partially veiling his crimson eyes. He smiled and nodded respectfully toward the Sanctprant Pope, revealing a neat row of white teeth, courteous as a gentleman inviting a guest to be seated. Naturally, he had only one task: To send the Pope on his way. Divine fire howled within the Blood King Palace beneath a somber dome where the blood moon hung high. The Blood Clan Progenitors stared at the Pope. The Pope stood alone, bathed in the pale crimson moonlight, still silent. His eyes seemed entirely filled with resolute finality, his mana rising to its absolute peak. The peace purchased through the end of more than thirty years of war was nothing more than a hollow facade. The Blood Clan would never repent. The Horning Empire had already rotted to its core. From beginning to end, the Blood Clan's strategy had been to feign retreat—using the suffering people of the Horning Empire as a shield to blind the Sanctprant Pope, waiting out his invincible lifetime until his human lifespan expired, at which point the Blood Moon would make its resurgence. When that time came, they would become far more cautious, far more vicious. They would never permit another dangerous human hero to emerge, nor would they allow the Horning Empire to attempt saving itself again. Having learned their lesson, they would grow even stronger. They intended to enslave humanity completely and destroy the Demon Realm. The Pope finally understood the message Caliera had wanted to convey. "The mere thought of you vermin drawing breath in this world for a single second longer... is utterly unacceptable to me." He enunciated every word with venom, stepping toward Duke Rasheal like a demon marching out of purgatory. He accepted the destiny thrust upon him at birth. He remembered every name he carried on his shoulders. Countless emotions burned within his heart until it rotted away. So loathsome, so hideous. Raging fury consumed his soul. Amidst Lankeluosi's roar, beneath the imperial capital of St. Trick, the tempest of the Blood Moon howled, and the war of the mythical age erupted once more. ... In the darkness, there was neither light nor color. Only the sound of heavy footsteps. When he could see clearly again, he had already been brought to the pinnacle of St. Trick Cathedral. He opened his weak eyes. Looking into the distance, the once-prosperous city had been reduced to ruins, desiccated severed limbs scattered among the collapsed buildings. The elderly, women, and children—their blood had long been drained dry or evaporated into nothingness. Even from afar, the heavy stench of blood assaulted his nostrils. It seemed their battle had breached the surface from Blood Moon City, the tremors claiming countless residents of the capital. Serving as prime nourishment, these citizens had provided the Blood Clan with immediate replenishment. Following the great battle, the south bank had devolved into a lavish feast for four gorging vampires. They had quickly recovered whatever strength they had lost in the preceding fight. Beneath the glow of the blood moon, a suffocating sense of absurdity and delusion shrouded the entire city. "Well, Your Holiness, what do you think of this magnificent view?" Duke Rasheal held the Sanctprant Pope by the nape of his neck, turning him toward that desolate expanse as he whispered in his ear. By now, only half of the Sanctprant Pope's torso remained. Mangled and mutilated, he hung limply in the victor Rasheal's grasp, clinging to his last breath. "..." The Pope's dim eyes had lost all vitality. Even as his lips trembled faintly, he could make no sound. "We actually left a few survivors on purpose," Marquis Somerset said with a grin, wiping his lips as he addressed the Pope. "Just imagine: once the people see you stripped down to your original demonkin form after fighting with all your might, what do you think their reaction will be?" the Seventh Progenitor, Heriteer, asked him. "People of the Horning Empire, look upon this!" Duke Rasheal lifted the Pope higher, as if presenting him before the crowd gathered beneath the Temple of the Moon God. "Behold the culprit responsible for today's calamity—and the calamity of these past decades!" As Duke Rasheal's voice fell, every word rang with commanding authority. Beneath this blood moon, he was the sovereign of the night, reducing the will of all mortals to insignificance. "..." Half-severed, the Pope kept his lifeless eyes lowered, enduring Duke Rasheal's humiliation without the strength to refute him. [You have been defeated.] [You are like a king who has lost everything.] [Besieged in Blood Moon City by the Third Progenitor, Duke Rasheal; the Seventh Progenitor, Marquis Heriteer; the Eighth Progenitor, Marquis Somerset; and the Ninth Progenitor, Marquis Bernhard; even your ability to counter the Blood Clan could not turn the tide inside the Blood King Palace.] [The people have seen your true form as a demonkin.] [Surviving citizens crawl out from the rubble, staring in horror at the fallen demon of radiance.] "The Sanctprant Pope?" "All that talk of peace was a lie!" "The glorious, righteous Sanctprant Pope is actually a demonkin!" "He deserves a thousand deaths!" [You hear the indignant cries of the people of Horning, watching their bloodshot eyes glaring at you in fury.] [Are you truly the villain of heinous crimes?] [You failed to honor those who sacrificed themselves for you.] [You failed to save the Theocracy and the Demon Realm.] [Everything you did was in vain.] "Hehehe, Lankeluosi, you still lost in the end." Duke Rasheal looked at the Pope in his grasp with pity, a victor's smile playing on his lips. From here on, the Horning Empire and the Blood Clan held the moral high ground to launch a counteroffensive against the Sanctprant Theocracy. With the backbone of the Sanctprant Theocracy shattered and a crisis of faith unleashed, the outcome of the war was decided before it even began. "Very well, time to send you on your way." Having had his fill of amusement, Rasheal shattered the Pope's body entirely with mana, turning him into a mist of blood and casting him down from atop the Temple of the Moon God. "Thank you for playing the clown in my grand Blood Moon era, putting on such a brief farce for my entertainment." Rasheal laughed with sheer delight, as if reminding Lankeluosi that a frail race like humanity had never been anything more than playthings for the Third Progenitor. The Pope disintegrated, even the last fragments of his silver mask fading away. The instant a second passed, the discarded world began to tear apart. He seemed to hear a voice. Telling him: *If your wings can still flutter, remember.* *Those countless birds whose wings were consumed by fire—* *Dispersing into ash, never to find peace.* *Bones ground to dust.* *All sacrifices, utterly worthless.* *All in vain.* The voices of those devoured echoed. Sorrow flickered within the dark. The blood moon illuminated the colonnades on the far shore, illuminating blurred memories. And the figure of the Black Sun sank deeper and deeper into the turbulent void, drifting toward eternal rest. [HOW CAN YOU REST IN PEACE?] Those words, accompanied by the cries of countless wronged souls, echoed relentlessly in his ears, hammering against the heart of the Black Sun and his chilled blood. Yet they could not wake the Pope, sleeping like a corpse. ... ... ... Until an unknown amount of time had passed. Just when he might have found true, everlasting rest— The Tyrant. Opened his eyes. Those feral green eyes—were they the sanction of wrathful might, or a blessing breaking the shackles asunder?