The pitch-black fog, as dark as the night, enshrouded Moen's vision.
Moen looked around, but there was nothing to see—just an endless deathly silence and pure darkness.
He extended his senses, yet they were instantly disrupted by an invisible force. He couldn't perceive anything.
"So... this is the true Dark Moon Mist?"
Moen muttered instinctively, but he froze halfway through the sentence.
He couldn’t hear his own voice.
From the moment he stepped into the mist, it felt as if he’d entered a realm of complete silence.
Sight blocked.
Hearing blocked.
Perception blocked.
Smell? There was no point even trying—this was a place where so many had met their end, yet no trace of odor lingered here.
Even touch...
Moen took a few tentative steps forward. The ground beneath him was supposed to be uneven terrain, yet now it felt as if he was walking on an absolutely flat plane, devoid of reference points to locate himself.
All five senses, along with his perception, were completely sealed off.
This was how the infamous Dark Moon Mist was said to isolate everything. It was no wonder they claimed even the Crowned would lose themselves if they dared enter it.
As long as you were still part of humanity’s domain, encountering this kind of situation would likely render anyone powerless.
Before long, the oppressive terror of this eternal darkness would break you, drive you insane, and ultimately cast you into permanent oblivion.
Then, does the fact that I feel no fear in the face of this absolute darkness mean I’m still part of humanity’s realm?
Moen pondered briefly, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.
Then, suddenly, scarlet flames ignited in his palm.
As soon as the scarlet fire emerged, the black mist churned violently, as though encountering its natural enemy. The darkness before Moen dissipated in an instant... for one meter.
That’s it?
Moen furrowed his brow.
A one-meter radius, shrinking by the second. It was utterly insignificant against the seemingly endless extent of the mist, let alone enough to guide him out.
Using more flame?
No, that would likely only drain his stamina.
After all, this was not some trivial fog conjured by a banshee that could be burned away with ease. This was the Dark Moon Mist, personally crafted by the Moon of Silence to ensure the success of its impending manifestation. There was no chance his divinely-granted powers alone could fully dispel it.
Though the Moon of Silence’s actions until now left little to admire, Moen had to admit—it was still a dark god of equal standing to the King of Wither. Its power, like the King of Wither's scarlet flame, existed on the same tier and couldn’t be outright countered.
He would need another solution.
Another way...
An idea sparked in Moen’s mind. He tapped the hilt of Elizabeth lightly with his fingers and walked forward a short distance.
**[Black Book]**
Moen called out softly in his thoughts.
The Black Book surfaced in the depths of his consciousness, opening slowly.
But this time, Moen wasn’t seeking answers. He needed the Black Book’s core ability—the ability for absolute, “objective” recording.
The pages turned soundlessly, arriving at the record describing Moen’s current actions.
**[Moen Campbell took three steps forward, four steps left, six steps left, then five steps left, ultimately returning to his original position.]**
Returned to his original position...
But I was walking in a straight line forward all along.
"I see. So the mist does interfere with my movements to some extent, doesn’t it?" Moen quickly grasped the truth.
After all, with no senses, navigating this mist was akin to being a puppet manipulated at will on a string.
But it seemed even the Moon of Silence could not have anticipated someone stepping into this Dark Moon Mist and still being able to find reference points to guide their way forward.
Moen took a step forward.
**[Moen Campbell took one step forward.]**
Moen took another step forward.
**[Moen Campbell took one step left.]**
Moen withdrew his foot and changed direction.
**[Moen Campbell took one step right.]**
He changed direction again.
**[Moen Campbell took one step forward.]**
It works!
Moen’s eyes lit up.
Using the Black Book as a reference, he continued correcting his direction, navigating forward with precision and determination.
The black mist abruptly churned once again, far more violently this time. Yet Moen hadn’t ignited scarlet flames; he could distinctly sense the fury and unease radiating from the boundless darkness all around him.
"Looks like I’ve arrived," Moen murmured, his lips curling into a smile.
Suddenly, flames surged forth!
Boundless scarlet fire erupted from within him, carrying supreme heat and light. It forcefully tore apart the final layer of the Dark Moon Mist!
The mist dissipated.
Light returned to the world.
The serene moonlight cascaded down, gracing everything with a beauty so flawless it resembled the legendary realms of fairies.
Moen paid no mind to the breathtaking scene. His gaze immediately landed on the center of the collapsed altar.
A girl clothed in purple floated serenely beneath the pristine moonlight, her eyes closed, her brows slightly furrowed. Her dress fluttered like delicate butterfly wings in ethereal dance.
"Senior..."
Moen called softly.
The next moment, his pupils constricted sharply and his pulse nearly halted.
He saw the serpentine scales covering Anna’s skin, and he saw the thick, sinewy tail that extended from beneath her skirt.
"This is..."
Anna had clearly completed her transformation, fully morphing into the serpentine form—a mark of the Moon of Silence’s chosen followers.
Unbidden, Moen recalled the words of the banshee from before:
**[Moen Campbell, perhaps letting you see her appearance now would excite you more.]**
This was the banshee’s malicious intent—to reveal the girl he cared for in such an ugly, inhuman state. Anyone would feel their heart split open at the sight and struggle to maintain composure.
"But so what?"
Moen took a deep breath, suppressing every shred of rage that might cloud his rationality, pushing it deep into the recesses of his heart.
"No matter how Senior changes, no matter whether her serpentine transformation can be cured, I will save her. No matter who stands in my way.
So—"
Moen raised his head and stared at the massive blue moon that loomed overhead, taking up nearly his entire field of vision. His voice twisted into a snarl of fury:
"Moon of Silence, take your filthy hands OFF HER!"
Moen’s roar reverberated sharply through the desolate space, crystal clear.
The response he received was silence.
The moon did not deign to cast even a fleeting glance his way.
Naturally. Even though Moen had pierced through layer upon layer of mist, to the moon, he was merely an ant blessed with a bit of power from its rival.
And what ant deserved a god’s personal attention?
Moen thought he caught the faint sound of mocking laughter.
Outside the altar, the blood pool suddenly roiled violently.
Bone-thin bodies crawled forth from the crimson depths, filled with endless hatred and anguish, forming an obstacle between Moen and Anna.
"So that’s how it’ll be..."
Moen lowered his gaze without saying much.
Nor did he show rage at the blatant contempt directed his way.
He simply tightened his grip on Elizabeth and—charged forward into the tide of the undead!
Perhaps to the Moon of Silence, he was little more than vermin.
But that lofty deity seemed don't know one thing.
Even ants bite—and bites hurt.
