"I see now—it seems that me the old man was meddling unnecessarily."

Archbishop Canterbury sat back down on the stone seat, his expression benevolent, without a trace of anger or frustration.

"Well then, let us return to the main topic, Your Majesty."

He turned his gaze to the languid emperor seated on the throne. Narrowing his eyes slightly, a sharp glint emerged as he asked the very question that had been lingering in Celicia's mind:

"What is the purpose behind gathering all of us together, Your Majesty?"

As his voice trailed off, the grand and grotesquely beautiful hall fell into an abrupt silence. The distinguished guests seated at the right side of the round table turned their attention towards Aldrich III.

Their curiosity couldn’t be helped. Once the fleeting novelty of the situation wore off, they were struck with a chilling realization—

This round table had assembled more than ten individuals of The Crowned level, key representatives of major factions, and even their leaders... as well as the foundational pillars of the Empire itself.

Such a gathered line-up was extravagantly intimidating, perhaps even terrifying. Since the founding of the Leopard Empire, a meeting of this caliber might very well never have occurred before.

If, by any chance, the individuals here were wiped out in one swoop, it could directly lead to the fall of Leopold.

No—what they should truly be worried about is the possibility of a demon clan invading at this moment. In that case, even dispatching just one demon duke might be sufficient to capture Belland.

"Pray that Campbell, the duke guarding the border, can hold on now," someone quipped casually with dry humor.

After those offhand remarks, the atmosphere in the hall grew increasingly somber.

Aldrich III remained silent, as if embodying the eerie calm before a tempest.

"Have none of you realized it yet?"

Finally, after a long pause, Aldrich III sighed quietly. He first turned to Archbishop Canterbury, and asked softly:

"Archbishop Canterbury, has the Holy City shared anything unusual with you recently?"

"Holy City? It's naturally preoccupied with preparing for that event..."

Archbishop Canterbury's words faltered as his gaze flicked briefly behind Aldrich III.

Aldrich III waved his hand nonchalantly, signaling him to continue:

"It’s fine. Although this matter remains classified within the Empire's upper echelons, the secrecy level has been downgraded to where it no longer requires silence covenants. Moreover, this hall is entirely sealed with forbidden spells. You may speak freely, even utter its name—it’s of no consequence."

"In that case, I’ll speak plainly."

Archbishop Canterbury swept his gaze across everyone before proceeding:

"At this moment, it’s not just the Church. I believe all major factions, and even the leadership of various nations, have their attention riveted on the same thing..."

He clenched his fist tightly and slammed it onto the table. This frail-looking elderly man spoke now with commanding strength in his voice:

"—That is, the divine battle between the King of Wither and the Moon of Silence!"

Around the round table, apart from Celicia, who struggled to quell the storm surging in her heart, none of the other attendees displayed any reaction.

This matter, within certain circles, had long been an open secret. For most of them, in fact, their recent work primarily revolved around preparing for the unknown repercussions that the divine battle could bring.

"And so, I cannot comprehend His Majesty’s actions. During such a critical juncture, the most prudent course should be to maintain an observant stance. Yet His Majesty has gathered us all here, which makes me feel..."

Archbishop Canterbury narrowed his eyes, pausing carefully before speaking again:

"As though Your Majesty intends to drag us along to fight those two dark gods."

"..."

The atmosphere grew heavy and stagnant as Aldrich III silently locked eyes with Archbishop Canterbury.

The entire hall plunged into a bizarre, disquieting silence.

"Haha, Archbishop really knows how to joke around..."

Adventurers’ Association President Adolf Loviss stood up, attempting to diffuse the tension with laughter.

"No matter what, it’s impossible for His Majesty to do something so unrealistic. Fighting dark gods would be akin to a mere human intervening in a battle between lions. I believe His Majesty merely—wait, Your Majesty?"

Adolf suddenly hesitated, his laughter stiffening on his face.

Something was out of place. Across the round table, representatives from essential factions that constituted the foundation of the Empire—all those entrusted with steering its core departments—stood grave-faced, visibly burdened.

They looked as though their child had just scored dead last in class and still had to attend a parent-teacher conference, utterly devoid of any mirth, instead filled with a grudging, resigned dismay.

But battling dark gods—wasn’t this supposed to be the most ridiculous joke anyone could hear?

Wait... could it truly be happening?

"So it’s true?"

Gray mist swirled ominously, mirroring the clouds weighing heavily upon everyone’s minds. Aldrich III lowered his gaze as a sardonic smirk tugged at the corners of his lips.

"The Holy City’s perspective is still set far beyond."

"What do you mean by that?" Archbishop Canterbury’s elderly eyes betrayed a fleeting trace of displeasure beneath his enduring smile.

Even for the Emperor of the Empire, speaking irreverently about the Holy City was...

"Then watch silently."

Aldrich III tapped lightly on the round table and said calmly:

"Hathaway."

"I'm here."

"You’ll explain to them."

"Understood."

Hathaway, clad in a professional suit paired with a skirt and black stockings, exuded poised elegance as she rose. Instantly, she captivated everyone’s attention.

"I’ve already introduced myself earlier, so I’ll spare you the repetition now," Hathaway declared crisply.

"First, I pose a question to all of you. Tell me—where do you believe we currently are?"

"What a peculiar question."

Stone Cauldron Association’s renowned alchemical master, Adrien, sneered.

"Wasn’t it your invitation that brought us all here?"

Before arriving, each of them had received Aldrich III’s personally written invitation letter, along with a rare spatial teleportation magic scroll inscribed with intricate coordinates. Upon utilizing the scroll, they were transported to this unfamiliar place. Regardless of context, it should be them who asked where they were—not the other way around.

"It must be some extraordinary space."

Truth-tier Archwizard Dodge muttered, lifting his gaze to observe the grandeur of the hall. His eyes, trained to discern magical currents, were bewildered by an unsettling void—no traces of energy flow could be detected here. Instead, only deadened stillness prevailed.

"And structurally, it resembles the throne hall of the palace."

Archbishop Canterbury added, "Though details differ, the foundational framework is unmistakably analogous."

"Moreover, our senses seem severely restricted."

Adolf grew visibly uneasy.

"It feels as though something is actively suppressing us."

Eventually, all eyes converged upon Hathaway.

Any further suspense would only exacerbate impatience—it was time for the answer to be revealed.

"Indeed. Strictly speaking, this space *is* the throne hall, but not the one you’re familiar with in the palace."

Hathaway's reply was cuttingly succinct:

"To help you grasp this swiftly, allow me to grant you all a direct view."

She lifted her elegant hand high above her head, mimicking the motion of brushing dust off glass with a gentle wave.

The dense mists overhead began to stir, seemingly driven by an unseen force. Like surging tides, the fog gradually receded.

But rather than revealing the ceiling of the throne hall, what emerged shocked every terrified gaze fixated upwards—

It was a city.

Above the swirling gray mist, beneath tranquil and deep hues of an enigmatic canopy—a colossal, magnificent city was suspended upside-down!