The True Calamity of the Creti Empire

Downtown Brillda. As the sun began to sink toward the west, the sky took on a magnificent golden hue. The lingering twilight shone upon the thin snow crowning Mount Ostro, draping the entire mountain range in a sacred mantle. *As long as I can escape... as long as I can make it there...* Rasheal fled in disarray. He was certain that now, with the National Day festival having just drawn to a close, the War Gods would soon return to this Hall of Divine Descent. As long as those War Gods returned, they would surely protect him. The setting sun would soon drop beneath the horizon. Once night fell over the Creti Empire, he would regain his Tier 9 power. A winter mountain breeze swept through the dense pine forest, rustling the needles. The wind caught withered, fallen leaves from the ground, sending them spiraling through the air before they drifted leisurely downward to pave a golden-yellow carpet. At the far end of Mount Ostro stood a magnificent, off-white edifice towering into the clouds. It was built entirely of ancient divine-era stone bricks whose surfaces shimmered with a dazzling golden light like flowing magma. Indestructible and wondrous, the miracle stone bricks had weathered countless eons of washing by time, remaining entirely intact without the slightest trace of damage. Holographic defense barriers encircled the sanctuary, enclosing the entire complex within. Special patrol troops clad in pitch-black greatcoats vigilantly swept their gazes across every corner. The setting sun cast long shadows over their uniforms, making them look all the more like a pack of nocturnal hunters poised to strike their prey. This was the seat of the Creti Empire's Military General Staff and General Headquarters. Deep on the other side of the military headquarters stood an immense circular chamber, which the Cretians called the "Hall of Divine Descent." This was the assembly ground for the Empire's Twelve War Gods. With a War God's permission, a visitor could advance this far at most. To penetrate deeper into the core area required either a War God's token or the presence of a War God in person. Yet at that very moment... Right beneath the eyes of the guards and barriers, a faint, shifting shadow materialized outside the Hall of Divine Descent. At first, it was merely a blurry phantasm. Gradually, the shadow grew clearer, at last coalescing into the form of a boy of twelve or thirteen. If a Tier 9 Rasheal wished to slip past in silence, these imperial soldiers had no hope of detecting him—especially when he was already intimately familiar with every layout and map of the defense installations surrounding the Hall of Divine Descent. In his current guise, Rasheal possessed skin as fair as snow, and soft, fluffy brown hair that shimmered with a faint golden sheen. A pure black velvet dress suit wrapped around his slender frame, its lapels embroidered in gold thread with the Creti Empire's ancient coat of arms—the crest of the Roland family, a soaring griffin with head held high. At first glance, he seemed no different from any wealthy youth in Brillda, someone who might have merely stumbled into the perimeter of this sacred hall out of fleeting curiosity. Yet if one were to look into his eyes, they would find that was far from the case. They were a pair of abyssal crimson pupils, like bottomless pools of blood, harboring an intellect and an expanse of time far beyond what his tender appearance could ever suggest. The Third Progenitor, Duke Rasheal, had arrived. His breathing was ragged, his eyelids drooped, and he looked as though he had just survived a horrific slaughter. He leaned against the walls of the hall as he advanced, dodging the fiery sunlight that felt as if it could scald his flesh. The golden twilight slanted through the window grilles. The exposed profile of his silhouette made him appear exceptionally frail. "Landry... you must be utterly exhausted as well... I'd like to see how you handle the War Gods at their peak..." Rasheal ground his teeth viciously, his pupils still webbed with broken blood vessels. Though he had escaped at the cost of abandoning Blood Moon City, he had lost a massive amount of mana and blood essence in the battle. Exposed to the sunlight, he desperately needed fresh blood to replenish his vitality. He understood that before Landry could catch up, he had to find a sanctuary where Landry could neither intrude nor reach him. Once he rallied his forces, he would strike back against the exhausted Landry and his cohorts! Ignoring his injuries, the wounded Rasheal snuck all the way to this Hall of Divine Descent, a place that could rightfully be called the Blood Clan's second stronghold. Upon reaching the perimeter entrance of the hall, Rasheal withdrew a spare seal carved from amethyst. It belonged to Marquis Ryan and bore the insignia of the Ninth War God. Rasheal pressed the military seal into the groove on the door. Immediately, layer upon layer of restrictions parted in response, admitting this distinguished visitor. The next instant, Rasheal vanished from the spot as though he had never existed. The entire process was as smooth as flowing water, utterly silent, eluding the notice of even the guards posted outside. Within the Hall of Divine Descent, a tranquil, harmonious melody echoed. The pure, ethereal notes of a harp resonated through the chamber like heavenly music. At times soaring, at times murmuring low, it was like angels singing amidst the clouds to soothe every soul. Mingled with the harp were the crisp chimes of wind bells, resembling fairies dancing upon the boughs to bring a gentle joy. The lingering, melodic voice of a flute drifted as if from distant time and space, reciting ancient legends and chanting long-lost memories. The instruments wove together into a harmonious cadence—sacred and elevated, dignified and melodious—billowing through the twilight glow to reach the heavens. The music felt like the earth and sky singing in unison, like the joyous hymn of all living creatures. The setting sun slanted through the hall's towering rose windows, scattering across the marble floor like heavenly diamonds cast down to the mortal realm, reflecting against the divine-era murals on the walls. Rasheal carefully avoided the beams of the setting sun. Having reached this place, Landry would no longer be able to catch him. His face remained concealed in the shadow of his hood, revealing only a pair of blood-red eyes burning with the flames of vengeance. "I will scour every corner of the Creti Empire. Even if I must dig three feet into the earth, I will drag you out, you cunning professor, and make you taste an agony worse than death..." Duke Rasheal gritted his teeth, listening to the toll of the five o'clock chime. He would pay any price to muster the power of half the Empire's War Gods to hunt down the culprit who had driven him to such a desperate corner. Professor Landry, that lingering wraith of Lancrosse, would perish without question. Even so, within a densely populated city like Brillda—and on National Day, when all the War Gods were gathered—Rasheal dared not rashly deploy powerful mental magic to contact the War Gods under his thrall. Doing so would inevitably draw the attention of the others and perhaps even expose his whereabouts. If civil war erupted among the War Gods and Landry showed up to sow further chaos, it would create a scene Landry likely wouldn't want to see—and one Rasheal wanted to see even less. He had to maintain a low profile, avoid prying eyes, and dismiss the uncontrollable War Gods before reclaiming everything from Landry with interest. Thus, Rasheal assumed one of his backup identities in the Creti Empire, disguising himself as a distant relative of the Ninth War God Marquis Ryan's mother. He hid within this sanctuary, which was fortified with the Empire's highest-grade absolute shielding barriers, intending to secretly reach out to the War Gods and gather the half under his control. By now, the War Gods should have just concluded the blessing ceremony at Creti Memorial Plaza. After guarding Emperor Saint Bardo's closing address for a little longer, they would return to the Hall of Divine Descent. Rasheal tilted his head, watching the twilight drifting down through the hall. Soon. Darkness would fall very soon. Only when the sky was entirely black would he feel complete security. No matter what, fighting during the day put him at far too great a disadvantage. It was precisely because that wretch Landry had seized upon this weakness that he had succeeded in backing him into this corner. "Landry, our second round has only just begun..." Just as Rasheal was quietly congratulating himself on his scheme... A silver radiance suddenly flared within the Hall of Divine Descent. Like a pristine silver moon rising, it bathed the entire grand hall in sacred splendor. "?!" Rasheal started, yet he dared not move too far lest he expose himself to the fierce sunlight. It was the aura of the Moon Goddess, as though a heavenly pure land had descended upon the mortal realm, permeating this wing of the sanctuary. Though this pure moonlight was not as lethal as the sun's rays, Rasheal still felt a wave of visceral revulsion, his internal organs churning. Straining to open his eyes beneath the sunlight, he saw only a blurred silhouette emerge beyond the silver glow, walking slowly toward him. "I—I am a visitor. I'm looking for Marquis Ryan..." Rasheal could only suppress the blaring alarm bells in his mind, attempting to convey that he harbored no hostility. By rights, if any War God had returned to the Hall of Divine Descent at this hour, they would have abandoned their sworn duty to guard Emperor Saint Bardo—an act of breach of etiquette and duty. Yet the very logic behind this person rushing back filled him with a creeping sense of foreboding. "Third Progenitor, there is no need to hide. I know it is you." Aquamarine Violet, having completed the deployment of the Moon Goddess Immaculate Pure Land barrier, stepped toward Rasheal's hiding spot with her ringed staff in hand. The crisp clinking of the rings upon the staff sent Rasheal's heart trembling at the exact same rhythm. "Violet... why you?" When Rasheal heard the other call out his true identity, he confirmed which War God had appeared in the hall. It was the last person he wanted to see. She wore the high priestess vestments of the Goddess of the Silver Moon and Healing, her dark navy hair cascading down to her waist like a waterfall. She was also the Sixth War God of the Aquamarine Seat, possessing the authority to enter any area of the hall as she pleased. Among the Twelve War Gods of Creti, the Sixth War God, Violet of the Aquamarine Seat, was considered one of the gentlest, possessing a personal aversion to slaughter. Even after the Creti Empire went to war, she had adamantly refused to go to the front lines, remaining behind in Brillda to oversee logistics and safeguard the heart of the Empire. Yet to the Blood Clan, her bloodline as a high-tier wolf witch represented endless trouble. "Landry was right after all. You creatures of the Blood Clan have plagued the Empire for far too long. Failing to drag you into the light sooner was truly my dereliction of duty." Violet acted without hesitation. Silvery-white moonlight swirled around her, her voice carrying an ethereal melody coupled with unquestionable authority. A volley of ice pillars blasted Rasheal out from behind the colonnade like an unhoused rat. Barely supporting himself, Rasheal threw himself behind another pillar the moment he registered Violet's position and her murderous intent. "Landry! It's Landry again...!" Rasheal suddenly roared in manic release, his laughter echoing through the cavernous hall with eerie chillingness. No matter where he fled, Landry was there! He truly was a vengeful ghost! "Still, Violet, since you pursued me here, you must be planning to capture me, aren't you? If you intend to push things this far, you'd better have counted the cost!!" The moment the words left his mouth, all naive illusions shattered. A surge of dark crimson mana erupted around Rasheal as his blood essence condensed into lethal armaments. He was already pushed to the brink. Whoever got in his way now, he would take their life! "The Empire's sun has not yet set." With a cool expression, Violet lightly waved her staff. The moonlight transformed into a colossal net, descending over Rasheal's head. The Hall of Divine Descent beneath the twilight turned into a battlefield steeped in ancient divine majesty. The marble floor reflected the blood-red dying sun, while twelve colossal pillars cast long shadows that crisscrossed the ground like the fingers of giants. Above the vaulted dome, myriad luminescent immortal crystals shone brilliantly, an eternal starry sky bearing witness to this epochal clash between wolf and Blood Clan. Violet, the Moon Goddess High Priestess, gripped her silver-white ringed staff, her violet eyes like two pools of limpid water as she chanted divine scriptures. Every syllable carried power enough to split stone and pierce metal. Two races, two powers, converging at a terminus ten thousand years in the making within this very hall. Rasheal's crimson claws surged from the ground, blurring into afterimages as they lunged toward Violet. "Die!" Rasheal unleashed a shrill screech. Violet flicked her staff. A fan-shaped barrier of icy blue swept forward, barring Rasheal's path. Chilly radiance burst into ten thousand ice crystals, forming a web of frost in midair. Rasheal's advance faltered. The blood-forged claws he controlled struck the ice web like blades. In an instant, ice crystals shattered, disintegrating into powder. "Under the sunlight, you are merely slightly stronger than an ordinary Tier 8 combatant. And I am by no means weaker than a Cardinal Bishop of the Resurrection Church." Violet's only reply was a crisp snap of her fingers. The next instant, all the ice crystals receded like an ebbing tide, dissolving into specks of starlight that dispersed in the twilight. Rasheal felt as though those very ice crystals had siphoned away a portion of his mana. "Vile wolf witch!" Rasheal had never imagined that he, a dignified Third Progenitor, would be driven to such straits by a mere priestess of the Wolf Clan. Compared to directly threatening an opponent's life, this wolf witch's spells carried the invisible power of the Moon Goddess, eroding her target's mana. To a spellcasting Progenitor like him, this was an utterly fatal affliction. Had it been night and he were at full strength, he would have been far stronger than Violet. Yet he was wounded, and beneath the sunlight refracted through the hall, he was terribly enfeebled. Hounded relentlessly by Violet's lunar and ice magic, he was left with nowhere to hide, thoroughly suppressed beneath her radiant assault! "You forced my hand, Violet—!" Driven to desperation, Rasheal let loose an enraged bellow. He had no choice but to use mental magic to forcibly commandeer the other War Gods, compelling them to race back to the Hall of Divine Descent and slaughter Violet on his behalf! Even if this alerted the other War Gods to his existence, ruined the infiltration he had spent years painstakingly cultivating, threw Brillda into chaos by igniting an epochal battle among multiple War Gods, or allowed Professor Landry to catch up amidst the turmoil—Rasheal had no other way out! Even if it meant dying, he would drag High Priestess Violet, Professor Landry, and all those commoners down to hell with him! Yet just as Rasheal poured everything into activating Blood Mind Control... He discovered that his mental magic was completely blocked within the hall's Moon Goddess Immaculate Pure Land barrier. "It won't... reach outside?" The barrier nearly severed his mental links to the other War Gods. He could no longer summon a single one of them. "Violet, what is this?!" he demanded in furious terror. "Rasheal, did you think I would engage you here without any preparation?" The air currents stirred by Violet's ringed staff transformed into countless razor-sharp blades of frost, howling through the ice prison and surging violently toward Rasheal. "I prepared countermeasures against your mind control long ago. Though I do not know which War Gods you hold in your grasp, I will not allow you to summon them back, nor will I let you harm the innocent citizens of the Empire. Remain here and repent!" Her gaze turned piercing as she glared at Rasheal. "No! I will not lose to a despicable wolf like you!" Rasheal roared in defiance, forcefully circulating what little mana remained in his body to erect a dark red shield before him. The frost slammed against the shield with dull thuds. The blood-red barrier shuddered violently, web-like cracks spreading across its surface. He waged his final, desperate resistance against Violet. As long as he could hold out until that cursed sun set, he would surely triumph over her. Yet this brief interval of dusk felt unimaginably distant. Right as the shield was on the verge of shattering, a blood-red glint flashed in Rasheal's eyes. He thrust out his right hand, physically catching a blade of frost. Frozen blood dripped through Rasheal's fingers, yet he paid it no heed. Gripping the frost tightly, he channeled his dark red mana through it, surging madly toward Violet's staff. "Hold on just a little longer... just a little longer! You cannot defeat me!!" Rasheal fixed a savage, bloodshot glare upon Violet. It was as if he were declaring it to her, yet also commanding himself to endure. Violet felt a wave of psychic mana invade her body through the staff, attempting to disrupt her mana circuits and induce a miscast. "You aren't like that Landry, who never casts spells! As long as you cast, you will make a mistake!" Rasheal didn't know whether it was from observation or from being tormented too severely, but he was now subconsciously analyzing the combat mechanics mid-battle. "..." As Violet's mana wavered, cracks spiderwebbed across the ice prison. Seizing the opening, Rasheal unleashed an explosion of dark red mana, shattering the ice prison into pieces. "I will make you taste the agony of a mana backlash! I will make you know the despair of your blood flowing backward!" With eyes blazing scarlet, Rasheal pointed toward Violet. At the same time, all the surrounding shadows turned exceedingly viscous, like pools of pitch-black asphalt, sinking into the cracked floor and seeping into the broken pillars as though seeking to swallow the entire hall. Dark red mana erupted from Rasheal's fingertips, streaking forth like a living entity aimed straight for Violet's heart! Yet in that split second, a pristine moonlight surged around Violet. The silvery-white radiance formed a shield of light, stopping the magic arrow dead in its tracks. Simultaneously, the frost within the hall reconvened with sudden violence, riding an updraft that nearly threw Rasheal off balance. More ice crystals sprouted from the breaches in the frost web, relentlessly repairing the gaps and entangling Rasheal completely. Violet's figure floated into view behind Rasheal. The ringed staff in her hands had transformed into a pure white broadsword radiating bright moonlight, tracing an arc aimed at the back of Rasheal's neck. Alert, Rasheal spun around. His iron-like arm blocked the blade, sending sparks flying with a metallic screech. After a fleeting stalemate, Violet gave Rasheal no room to breathe. A massive barrier magic circle suddenly surfaced on the floor, glowing with an eerie blue light. At the center of the array, a translucent flower of ice slowly blossomed, growing taller and taller until it formed an ice prison that enveloped Rasheal completely. Inside the cage of ice, Rasheal felt his mana draining away at terrifying speed. His blood vessels were nearly frozen solid, and his limbs grew stiff as wood. No matter how desperately he pushed his mana, he could not break through this impenetrable frozen cell. "Rasheal, you have underestimated the divine arts of the Moon Goddess." Violet stood motionless opposite Rasheal. Planting the staff vertically before her, she gripped the handle with both hands, gathering her mana. Rasheal felt a piercing chill rise from the depths of his soul, threatening to freeze his consciousness. He wanted to resist, only to find that he had nearly lost sensation in his frozen torso. "What... have you done... to me...?" Rasheal asked through gritted teeth. "A seal," Violet answered calmly. This was the sealing art passed down through the Wolf Clan. Beneath this purifying moonlight, even an immortal vampire could not escape the fate of being sealed. As Violet whispered her incantation, the phantom of a lunar orb materialized out of thin air above Rasheal. Countless silver threads cascaded from the moon, wrapping around his limbs. "Stop!!" Rasheal struggled frantically, yet his strength slipped away at a rate visible to the naked eye. Like a beast backed into a corner, he thrashed and roared in madness, desperate to tear away the freezing seal creeping over him. Rasheal's dark red mana spilled forth like a tempest, condensing into a swirling vortex of black and crimson beneath the ice. At the center of the frozen expanse, dazzling cocoons of bloody lightning repeatedly erupted from Rasheal as he tried to shred the silver threads binding him. Every movement stirred a tempest of mana that shook the entire sanctuary. "Foolish woman! You think you can seal me?!" Rasheal howled through clenched teeth, his voice raspy and unhinged. "When night falls, it will be the hour of your death! I swear I will make you taste the agony I have endured for tens of thousands of years!" "These arts were created from the very beginning to seal your kind." Violet held the staff firmly with both hands, channeling the power of her ancestors. Moonlight coalesced from the Moon Goddess Pure Land barrier, locking Rasheal down tight. The net of light contracted, and the sealing silver threads tightened in turn. Rasheal felt as though every bone in his body were being bound and ground together, creaking under pressure as if about to be crushed to dust. Yet by sheer force of will, he held on, pitting his resolve against Violet's. Beads of sweat broke out across Violet's forehead, tracing thin trails down her fair face. "Rasheal, give up your futile struggle. Your defeat is already sealed." Her gaze remained resolute, without the slightest hesitation. Suppressing Rasheal beneath the sun was easy enough for Violet, but completely sealing an immortal being of the divine realm was still an immense undertaking. Time did not permit her to continue wearing down Rasheal's condition; she could only force the seal upon him. Or rather, Rasheal's strategy all along had been to stall until after dark. "Hahahahaha! I haven't lost! You cannot seal me!" Rasheal threw his head back and laughed maniacally, his voice hollow and bizarre. "Once I regain my freedom, I will make you pay in blood! Look—the sun is about to set!" Before his words could settle, another surge of bloody mana burst forth, hurtling straight toward Violet. Violet was forced to form a hand seal with one hand, raising a shield of moonlight before her. The crimson mana collided with the light shield, throwing off blinding sparks. This was the decisive tug-of-war between the two. Until the final moment when darkness fully fell, whether Rasheal would be sealed first or whether he would regain his power and tear free of Violet's binding was no longer merely a contest of mana and lives—it had become an ultimate clash of conviction and willpower. Every second stretched endlessly. It was as if time had been split into a hundred, a thousand fragments, each distinctly felt by Rasheal and Violet alike. Any single juncture could overturn the outcome. Yet the sun was sinking faster than Violet had anticipated. It was as if the God of the Night wished to lend a final hand to his favored children, the Blood Clan. "Violet, you've lost!" Just as Rasheal mounted his last resistance... The dimming light within the Hall of Divine Descent suddenly shifted, growing noticeably brighter. An indigo-clad figure appeared at the entrance of the hall. He pushed open the doors in bewilderment, letting the light stream inside, and stared at the battle unfolding within. Rasheal's laughter ceased abruptly the moment he got a clear look at this figure. The newcomer wore a wing-like cloak of blue and white draped over his knight's attire, shimmering with a soft luminescence that blended pale blue and white, looking like a fragment torn directly from the clouds in the sky. He looked as though he had merely stumbled into this battlefield by accident. "Violet, what is going on here?" Hyacinthus stared with astonishment at Violet, who was currently suppressing Rasheal within the Hall of Divine Descent. "Hyacinthus, come help me!" Violet called out in delight upon seeing who it was. It would have taken her some time to suppress Rasheal on her own, and the sun was setting abnormally fast today. With Hyacinthus assisting her in sealing Rasheal, they would complete it in no time. "What about you? Why did you come?" Violet had been on the verge of losing her grip on Rasheal as his strength began to return. The daylight today was bizarre, fading far too swiftly. Fortunately, at this most critical juncture, her strongest companion, Hyacinthus, had arrived. "I saw you run off so suddenly earlier and was worried about you. After asking Emperor Saint Bardo and the other War Gods for permission, I broke protocol and hurried over early as well." Hyacinthus immediately adopted a vigilant stance toward Rasheal as he explained to Violet. When the five o'clock bell had tolled earlier and their blessing from the God of War and Swords concluded, Violet had immediately abandoned her post without regard for anything the moment she regained mobility. None of them had understood what was happening. The other War Gods still bore the grave responsibility of protecting Emperor Saint Bardo and could not leave Creti Memorial Plaza so recklessly. Furthermore, shortly afterward, several among them had appeared as though waking from a dream, their memories muddled and hazy. "No... Goddess of Fate, this is not fair! Why must you toy with my destiny?!" Rasheal roared in fury within the hall. The sliver of hope he had just glimpsed was ruthlessly extinguished. Hyacinthus was both the most extreme specialist and a paragon of versatility, for he possessed no weaknesses whatsoever. Beyond having reached the pinnacle of slashes, Hyacinthus—widely acknowledged as the strongest on the Southern Continent—possessed peerless talent with the sword as well as a unique gift for magic. Yet he had not wasted time trying to master all schools of magic, choosing instead to specialize in every manner of counter-spell. In his current state, Rasheal stood no chance against Hyacinthus. "Do not blame your karma on the gods. When facing your punishment, do you never reflect upon the sins you have committed?" Filled with confidence, Violet had no fear of the falling night as she maintained Rasheal's seal. "I knew something was wrong. Good thing I came to check." As Hyacinthus spoke, he raised his gaze toward Rasheal, who was trapped in ice on the other side of the hall. His eyes burned like torches, already alight with battle intent. He trusted Violet unconditionally and immediately locked onto Rasheal as the enemy. Rasheal thrashed against the seal in panic, attempting to use mental magic to seize Hyacinthus's mind in a final counterattack. "Hyacinthus! Remember your agonizing childhood! Let me heal the scars in your heart—submit to me once more!" His eyes flared with brilliant crimson light. Invisible threads of mana shot out from all over his body, weaving together into a single strand in midair before sinking directly into Hyacinthus. Hyacinthus's footsteps halted. The Hall of Divine Descent fell dead silent for half a beat. "How do you know about my past...?" Hyacinthus looked at Rasheal, scratching his head in confusion. "No... that's impossible..." To Rasheal's utter disbelief, his mental magic was like a stone dropped into the ocean, failing to stir the slightest ripple. Hyacinthus's eyes remained clear and untroubled, completely unaffected. "Stop dreaming. Within the Moon Goddess Immaculate Pure Land, your mind-control magic is entirely useless." Violet scoffed as she layered more frost to bind Rasheal. Sure enough, her best friend Hyacinthus had indeed been under the Third Progenitor Rasheal's control before. Rasheal had foolishly hoped to weaponize Hyacinthus's strength to mount a counterattack. Yet now, that control was broken. Hearing this, Rasheal turned deathly pale. Within this Moon Goddess Immaculate Pure Land, his Blood Mind Control could not take effect; the moment it touched Hyacinthus, it was dissolved. This was another dead end. "Damned Wolf Clan... damned wolf witch, aaaaagh!" Seeing that Hyacinthus's mind was completely lucid, Rasheal's last glimmer of hope was shattered. Even in his peak state, he was not guaranteed victory in a direct confrontation with a monster among humans like Hyacinthus. Severely wounded as he was, even if he survived until nightfall, he could never hope to take on the combination of Violet and Hyacinthus! What was more, the other War Gods whose Blood Mind Control had been severed would soon return to this Hall of Divine Descent. Shielded by the Moon Goddess Immaculate Pure Land, their minds could no longer be manipulated by him. "I refuse to accept this! I refuse to accept this!" He screamed hysterically at the top of his lungs. Yet the screaming soon devolved into shrill shrieks of agony. Countless silver needles of frost pierced Rasheal's flesh, locking down every mana node in his body. Rasheal felt his organs churning and his bones dislocating, drowning in unbearable torment. "Violet, come here. Move to a safe position, far away from him. I'll cut him to pieces." Hyacinthus spoke softly to Violet, his voice as calm and steady as the sea. "Mm. You are always the most dependable, my friend." Violet nodded in understanding. With Hyacinthus's help, sealing the struggling Third Progenitor Rasheal would take only moments. She carefully took several steps back, retreating toward the rear. Violet was confident that with her keeping Rasheal suppressed, Hyacinthus would soon eliminate this ultimate scourge of the Creti Empire. It had been a long time since they had fought side by side like this. "Violet, you are my best friend..." Hyacinthus walked toward Rasheal on the other side of the hall, resting his hand on the hilt of his sword at his waist. Just as Violet thought everything was finally coming to an end, that familiar sense of safety welled up from behind her. She let out a long sigh of relief, about to voice her gratitude to Hyacinthus, when a searing pain abruptly erupted in her chest. Violet looked down in utter disbelief. A hand had impaled her from behind, blood gushing forth from the wound. And the owner of that hand was none other than the best friend she had trusted without reservation. "And you always will be!!" Hyacinthus burst into manic laughter. His blade-like hand reached directly through Violet's back, tore out her heart, and crushed it to pieces in his fist. "...?!" Blood trickled from the corners of Violet's mouth. Her fading purple eyes were still filled with sheer incomprehension. Even Rasheal, still being sealed in the distance, widened his eyes in shock. He could not understand why Hyacinthus would attack Violet when Hyacinthus was clearly free of his mental control. "Hyacinthus... wh-why..." Spitting crimson blood from her lips, Violet forced out a few words through trembling lips. Stiffly, she summoned every ounce of her strength to turn her head back, and the sight that met her eyes caused her pupils to shrink violently. Upon Hyacinthus's handsome face hung an expression of liberated ecstasy, his eyes unvarnished in their disgust for her. "That expression on your faces is my absolute favorite. No need to make a fuss. You're just preceding the rest of them, you damned commoner." Hyacinthus's voice dropped low as he spoke to Violet. What answered her next was a wave of heart-wrenching agony. "I lived in hiding, concealing who I was, solely for this day. And because of that, you have to disappear." Bright red blood splattered across Hyacinthus's palm, yet he paid it no mind, casually flicking his wrist to scatter the mangled wolf heart upon the floor. Violet collapsed to the ground. That once beautiful, sacred face was now as pale as paper. Her body lay motionless like a petrified statue, her life aura rapidly dissipating. The sunset glow was gradually swallowed by the distant horizon; the day of the National Day festival had come to an end. In its place, a full moon veiled in a faint purple mist climbed toward the zenith. The sky was studded with countless stars. Below the sanctuary, the streets of downtown Brillda had been completely erased by darkness. Without anyone realizing it, the presence of the people had receded, plunging into total silence. The music within the Hall of Divine Descent turned sinister. The originally gentle harp notes spiked sharply, like the screech of a vengeful ghost spanning twenty years. The wind chimes were joyful no longer, clashing with piercing, jarring shrieks like weeping in purgatory. Hyacinthus's iron boots struck the sanctuary's stone tiles like thunderous drumbeats. Under such music, the Hall of Divine Descent shed its former sanctity. Blood-red moonlight filtered through the rose windows, casting mottled patches upon the floor, while the shadows of the stone pillars twisted and warped as he strode past. The entire space was steeped in dark crimson—gore, madness, and slaughter weaving into a fugue of death. "Twenty years ago, this day was the same. The scent of blood was everywhere." Hyacinthus walked toward Rasheal, speaking nonchalantly: "Starting as the eldest son of a marquis, I abandoned my name, gave up everything, and disguised myself as a commoner to live in the shadows. By now, I've almost forgotten my original name. I can barely even recall the faces of my parents and sister." In his eyes lay neither sorrow nor self-mockery, only the calm reflection of the past. "What... what are you talking about?!" Rasheal's mind was in total chaos. Propping himself up, he instinctively tried to retreat. He knew Hyacinthus had always been righteous and merciful, hailed as the spiritual beacon and moral standard of the Creti Empire's populace. Yet now, in a state of complete sobriety, Hyacinthus had slaughtered his own companion, the High Priestess of the Moon Goddess, without a second thought. None of this made any sense! Stepping across the sanctuary tiles stained with wolf blood, Hyacinthus slowly advanced toward Rasheal. At this moment, even Rasheal—whose frost seal had just been interrupted, granting him freedom once more—felt his spine go rigid and a bone-chilling cold seize his entire body. He stared fixedly at Hyacinthus, his raised hand trembling uncontrollably as he tried to defend himself, utterly incapable of comprehending the nightmare unfolding before his eyes.