Silence. Silence again.

Even Pink Bear, who prided himself on having seen plenty of crazy things under the sun, found himself at a loss this time.

He had dealt with countless zealous fanatics before, but it was the first time he'd seen someone defect and surrender like this. What was he supposed to do now?

"Could it be that you don’t trust me, boss?"

Seeing Pink Bear fall silent, the scarred man assumed he was being doubted. Grabbing his blade again, he walked over to the emaciated figure he had kicked far away earlier. Without hesitation, he raised the knife and sliced down multiple times with a flurry of swipes.

The decisiveness and ruthlessness in his actions were so severe, it made one wonder if the scarred man believed the skinny figure had murdered his entire family.

But in truth, the two had only met today. Not long ago, they were even allies.

“Stop, stop, enough,” Pink Bear finally called out, unable to bear watching as what was left of the emaciated figure was about to be diced into pulp-like mince.

"Alright, I believe you for now. No more chopping. If you mince him this fine, it’ll be a nightmare to clean up later."

“Really?” The scarred man’s face lit up with joy.

He immediately scampered over to Pink Bear, grabbed his paw, and shook it vigorously.

“Thank you, boss! I’m so grateful, boss! Your kindness is like the gift of a second life to me—"

“Stop, stop, stop…” Pink Bear withdrew his bear paw, disgust evident on his face, and glanced at the scarred man.

“Just so we’re clear, I haven’t fully trusted you yet. I’m sparing your life only for now. If I see even the slightest sign of betrayal, I’ll be the first to—wait, what?”

His words were suddenly cut off. Seeming to notice something, Pink Bear grabbed the scarred man by the shoulder and examined him closely, holding him in place.

After a moment, he exclaimed in shock, “You’ve actually not been corrupted by the dark god?”

“Huh? Corrupted by the dark god? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Aren’t you a follower of that disgusting god of love?”

“The god of love?” The scarred man scratched his head in confusion. After pondering for a moment, he suddenly appeared to remember something.

“Oh! You mean the one the high priest kept jabbering about, making us worship every day? Why on earth would I believe in that god? It’s not like he’s giving me money!”

“Then if you’re not a believer of the god of love, why were you mingling with that group?”

“Oh, that.” The scarred man chuckled. “I ran into them handing out flyers while I was wandering around. They said they could help me find true love, so I joined them.”

As he said this, a sliver of fury crossed the scarred man’s face.

“But now I realize they’re nothing but a bunch of scam artists! Once I joined, they made me recite scripture, attend judgment gatherings, and now they’re forcing me to invade the academy. But I still haven’t found my true love!”

Pink Bear looked even more surprised. “You infiltrated the dark god’s lair, and you still had a choice about whether to believe?”

“Wait… Could it be…”

As though something had dawned on him, Pink Bear rubbed his chin and scrutinized the scarred man with narrowed eyes.

“You harbor not even the slightest trace of twisted love, do you? Which means the dark god’s whispers don’t affect you?”

“Twisted love?! Are you kidding me?” the scarred man roared, visibly irritated. “Even you, boss, can’t taint my feelings like that. What I have is *true* love!”

“…”

Pink Bear went quiet for a moment. Then all of a sudden, he tentatively asked, “I seem to recall that so-called Church of True Love is famously a gay brotherhood in Belland, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, it’s all men. Why else would I join?”

“Forgive me for asking, but… your true love is…”

“This is him!”

The scarred man fished a picture out from behind his back, unfurled it in front of Pink Bear, and his face flushed with a blissful blush.

“This is the man who will one day marry me as my husband!”

“...Wait a minute.”

Pink Bear leaned in, scrutinizing the handsome blonde man vividly depicted in the picture. Something about this person rang a bell.

“Strange,” he muttered. “This guy looks awfully familiar. Isn’t he the one who’s pretty famous around the academy? And doesn’t he have some kind of connection with little Celicia…?”

Glancing from the picture back to the scarred man, who now resembled a shy schoolgirl in his infatuation, Pink Bear couldn’t suppress the wicked smirk spreading across his face.

“I think…I’ve stumbled upon something interesting.”

“Hmm? Do you know him?” The scarred man’s eyes lit up. “His name is Moen Campbell. Do you know where he is?”

“Well…” Pink Bear’s smile became cryptic as he patted the scarred man on the shoulder.

“Stick with me, work hard, and you’ll meet your true love sooner or later.”

“Got it!"

The scarred man immediately straightened his posture, looking every bit like an obedient lackey.

“Oh, by the way, what’s your name?”

“Coren.”

“Alright, Coren. Now go clean up the mess.”

“Understood!”

Coren eagerly took the cleaning tools Pink Bear produced from his pitch-black bear mouth and hurried over to the emaciated corpse to begin tidying up the remains.

As he bent down to start, though, a chilling sensation suddenly crept over him—an icy stab of foreboding.

It felt as though an evil gaze was fixed on him, dripping with malice.

Instinctively, Coren turned to look. He froze.

The severed head of the emaciated figure, miraculously intact, glared at him with an unblinking, spiteful stare. It hadn’t died.

“What the hell is going on?!” Coren screamed, startled. He clutched his blade, ready to hack again—but a sharp command froze him mid-motion.

“Bow your head!”

Without wasting a second on thought, Coren obeyed, dropping into a crouch.

A gust of wind whistled by just above him, making his scalp tingle with unease.

Unbeknownst to him, Pink Bear had appeared beside the severed-headed figure, wielding his wolfsbane stick. With one sweeping strike—the head was smashed.

Bits of red and white matter scattered everywhere, a nauseating spectacle.

And yet, even as half its face was obliterated, the emaciated figure didn’t die. Its remaining half grinned mockingly at Pink Bear, eyes gleaming with sinister triumph.

“Too late…” Its scratchy voice hissed like steel scraping warped iron.

“Me being here…confirming its existence…was already…enough.”

The remaining half of its mouth curved into a cruel, sneer feverishly.

“Eternal…Moon…”

In that instant, the mutilated body seemed to pulse unnaturally. The scant blood still within it began flowing outward, regrouping to form an eerie sigil on the floor.

At some point, the lantern long-forgotten by both Pink Bear and Coren reappeared beside the sigil. Its light winked out as a bluish glow emanated from the markings on the ground—cold and lifeless as moonlight, etching otherworldly patterns.

The glow pulsed rhythmically, as if communing with some far-off, unfathomable presence.

“Is this… a dark god's locator beacon?!”

Pink Bear’s pupils dilated sharply. With no time to hesitate, he slammed his wolfsbane stick into the ground, obliterating not just the sigil but an entire section of the reinforced floor surrounding it.

But somehow, as the emaciated figure had foretold—the intervention was too late.

Pink Bear’s mind raced, haunted by the consequences of what had transpired. Aboveground, encased in layers of earth, the sensation grew heavier with each passing moment. Overhead, enveloping skies radiated unthinkable malice. Something impossibly vast had begun…watching.

His bear-like body trembled involuntarily, as his very soul reeled at the dreadful aura sealed high above.

A massive, glowing blue moon hung suspended.

“Holy…crap. Plan C actually exists?”

Coren turned pale, his face drenched in horror. His mind wavered at the thought of shifting allegiances again. Was defecting so quickly a mistake? Could he still switch sides after all of this? Could that Moon of what forgive him?

Ignoring Coren’s panic, Pink Bear’s focus suddenly shifted. Another unease had registered.

Without explanation, his gaze turned sharply elsewhere—toward the student dormitories.

There was tension in his voice. And it thickened as he muttered, almost to himself:

“…There’s more than one of them?”