The moonlight scattered.

Amidst the surging, tearing black mist, countless scarlet pupils of the *Moon of Silence* snarled ferociously, carrying the wrath of the heavens as they stared at the old man who raised his crossbow and fired.

Insect.

Another insect.

How dare they?

How dare you insects?

The ethereal blue moon began to tremble madly, its vibrations rippling out and distorting the very fabric of space. A blood-like hue spread, and in an instant, the entire luminous moon transformed into a scarlet glow.

Yet, what turned the *Moon of Silence* scarlet was not rage, but... poison.

A deathly poison meticulously crafted by an Origin-level Archmagician was rapidly spreading along the lunar wheel, relentlessly unraveling its exquisite moonlight.

This was a deathly force strong enough to even affect the body of the *dark god*. How could a mere projection withstand the corrosive invasion of such poison?

Boom—

Countless withered, skeletal hands of the *King of Wither* extended once more. This time, they encountered almost no resistance as they swiftly climbed and latched onto the radiant moon. Crimson flames burned unrelentingly, and one grotesque pupil after another disintegrated amidst the fire.

The moon twisted and distorted, revealing to all who gazed the anger and madness of this exalted deity. Yet it also revealed... weakness.

Under the corrosive erosion of the deathly poison, and the suppression and tugging of the *King of Wither*, this projection of a *dark god*—an entity capable of turning an entire nation into a wasteland overnight—was being inexorably dragged, bit by bit, into the void's abyss.

What remained was an infinite reservoir of hatred.

What awaited it next would be the horrendous devouring by another *dark god*.

...

*Dark god, Moon of Silence.*

To evade the divine war with the *King of Wither*, and to alter the fate of being swallowed, it calculated everything, even going so far as to attempt abandoning its divine body and title, descending instead with its will and authority into the perfect serpentine vessel—Anna Kablin.

But in the end, its plan was undone by the backlash of these "lowly insects" in its eyes.

Two projections were destroyed; all its believers were burned to ashes.

From this moment forth, the delicate balance between the *King of Wither* and the *Moon of Silence*, these two equally ranked *dark gods*, would be entirely upended.

Perhaps the so-called ending had been determined long ago.

...

"I can't believe even *that one* showed up."

Beyond the dark mist, Kinzer, having his crossbow snatched away by the old man, was left helplessly watching the spectacle unfold. His face was one of shock.

Although he had anticipated that this affair would escalate, he never imagined it would escalate to this extent.

Seeing two *dark gods* roll up their sleeves and physically duke it out was undoubtedly a once-in-a-century event.

"It's only natural for *that one* to appear. After all, from beginning to end, this was essentially a matter between those two. Strictly speaking, everything happening in Belland was merely collateral."

The old man casually discarded the crossbow, gasping for breath. For a moment, he seemed to age another ten years.

To ensure the Origin Stone hit its mark, he had exerted himself fully—a rare occurrence. Yet this body of his, already half-decayed, was clearly struggling to support him.

Still, he felt immense satisfaction.

To personally slap an arrow right in the face of that *moon*—anyone would consider it a moment of unparalleled gratification. Especially someone like him, who harbored much resentment and hatred toward the moon.

Over the past decade, watching that girl silently confront despair alone, even if his heart had been forged of steel, he found himself, unintentionally, shaping that steel into the sharpest of blades.

"Huh? This dark mist?" Kinzer suddenly let out a surprised exclamation.

Even though the projection of the *Moon of Silence* had already vanished, the dark lunar mist hadn't dispersed. Instead, the rift torn by the *King of Wither* was slowly mending, cutting off the area once again.

"Looks like it isn't over yet," the old man said, seating himself on the ground with a sigh. "But, we've done all we can. The eradication of heretical followers is almost finished as well. Let's just wait here. With me around, no matter what surprises remain, they can't stir up too much trouble."

"Understood!" Kinzer replied with a salute.

Moments later, however, he seemed to think of something, and his serious expression turned puzzled. Furrowing his brow, he asked in confusion:

"Come to think of it, that *one* seemed to have been drawn here by that Moen Campbell, right? Earlier, the powers of the two *dark gods* were so chaotic, I couldn't make out the method he used. Did you see it, sir?"

"...I didn't either. The oppressive force from the two *dark gods* was overwhelming; who would pay attention to that kid?"

"...Fair enough."

Kinzer sighed regretfully. Though he had briefly been on guard, he didn’t dwell further on it.

After all, in this world, the means to draw the attention of a *dark god* weren't limited to heretical faith or prayer. As a duke’s son, Moen Campbell pulling out some strange artifact wasn’t particularly surprising.

"Still, private possession of items related to *dark gods* is a serious crime. Can I arrest him for that?" Kinzer asked matter-of-factly, his tone entirely procedural.

"..." The old man glanced at Kinzer expressionlessly and retorted, "Why don't you run that by Her Highness the Inspector over there? If she's willing to not report you to His Majesty for abuse of power, then I don't care."

"Oh," Kinzer replied, deciding not to pursue the matter further.

As if he’d dare.

Even as someone wholly devoted to being a Silencer, he had heard that Moen Campbell was this princess's fiancé. To act on such a matter would be to openly court disaster for himself. No, no—no matter how strictly he adhered to rules and procedures, even he wouldn't do something so foolish.

But still...

Kinzer's gaze fell once more on the dark lunar mist, his expression suddenly turning strange.

*Your Highness, Princess. Your fiancé is currently alone with another young lady in one of the most isolated places in this world. Whatever they're doing inside, the outside world surely cannot know.*

*And you’re not the least bit concerned?*

...

...

"What does that have to do with me?"

Celicia stood amidst the night, her strikingly white gown gleaming even in the darkness. Despite the pouring rain, not a single droplet dared to touch her. She looked like a fleetingly blossoming evening lily, breathtakingly beautiful.

Yet at this moment, a far colder aura than usual radiated from her as she gazed icily at the sweating, middle-aged, balding man before her.

"Viscount Guen, your difficulties in carrying out your duties—what does that have to do with me?"

"Your Highness, I ask for your understanding."

The governing administrator of the Lower City District, Viscount Guen, lacked any semblance of dignity one might expect from someone overseeing the area. He bore far greater resemblance to an overworked, middle-aged office worker. The recent pressures had not only added to his receding hairline but also deepened the circles under his eyes.

The relentless downpour had completely drenched him, yet he kept wiping the sweat from his forehead.

"It’s not that I’m unwilling to give my full effort. It’s just that the chaotic state of the Lower City District is something Your Highness is surely aware of. Even with your commands, investigations are not impossible, but they do require time, don’t they? Furthermore, Your Highness—you never urged this before. Why such sudden urgency now...?"

"Of course, I fully understand your situation," Celicia replied, her tone suddenly heavy with implication. "Otherwise, I wouldn’t have bypassed you to investigate these matters with my own means."

"What—"

Viscount Guen's face instantly turned pale.

"According to my findings, the number of disappearances in the Lower City District has reached an alarmingly horrifying count—far exceeding the figures I last presented to you.

Among the underworld gangs in the Lower City District, only the Red Flame Gang has been brazen enough to collaborate with heretical followers, secretly engaging in human trafficking and sacrificing those victims to *dark gods*.

But, even so, how could a single Red Flame Gang cause so many people to vanish?

So, here comes the question."

Celicia’s cold lips curled into a hint of derision as she fixed her gaze on Viscount Guen.

"Beyond these gangs, who else in the Lower City District has the convenience to carry out such operations?"

The answer, of course, was obvious.

None other than the Guard Corps—an institution entirely under Viscount Guen's control. What else could more "legally and reasonably" make people disappear from the face of the Earth?

"..."

With her words hanging like frost in the air, silence descended upon the lonely street, accompanied only by the sound of rain.

Viscount Guen suddenly fell silent.

In the stillness, his figure began to grow taller, his stocky body writhing like a snake. In mere moments, his clothes were torn to shreds, revealing a thoroughly monstrous being.

"Ah, I see."

Watching the transformation, Celicia nodded in understanding. "So, you’re the Sleepless Man of the city's dark tales."

"I never expected to be discovered by Your Highness," the Sleepless Man—no longer Viscount Guen—hissed as his features twisted grotesquely. He let out a furious roar:

"I was never going to hurt you, but now, to conceal this truth, I’ll need you to die, *Your Highness*!"

He charged at her like an enraged bull, each step shattering the ground beneath him.

"Oh, really?"

Yet, Celicia showed not the slightest hint of panic. Instead, a trace of mockery flashed in her icy gaze.

With a swift gesture of her slender fingers, the falling rain around them inexplicably turned into snowflakes.

"Who gave you the nerve to say such things during a rainfall while facing me?"

In that single moment.

The chill erupted.

Freezing everything.

...

...

Celicia stood amidst a tundra of white, her skirt fluttering lightly in the breeze.

Somehow, the rain had stopped.

The dense clouds covering the city began to disperse, revealing the grandeur and vastness of the metropolis once more as its majesty was restored to the streetways.

Occasionally, scraps of snow drifted down, settling on Celicia’s hair and brows like frost on wintry trees at dawn.

"Your Highness," a golden-clad knight addressed her, kneeling at her side.

"Take him back and interrogate thoroughly. There are bound to be other nobles entangled in these dealings. Draw up a list and submit it for review—no, actually, just let those who are supposed to handle it do so. I’m simply a student now; I have no interest in managing nuisances like this."

Her gaze swept briefly across the ice sculpture beside her.

"Understood," the knight acknowledged and began commanding his subordinates to take that ice sculpture away.

Celicia stood alone, taking in the view of the cityscape as it bathed in the glow of the approaching dawn.

Morning was close at hand.

The city had returned to silence once again, and the suppression of the heretical cultists by the Silence Agency was nearly complete.

Everything that had occurred that night had, as expected, reached its conclusion.

Except for…

Celicia raised her head, gazing at the distant mist of the dark moon, shrouded in a half-spherical veil.

“You really do have a knack for always appearing at the most eye-catching spots, don’t you…”

Celicia murmured softly, her silver-white lashes fluttering as her gaze lowered.

At this moment, the girl’s thoughts were as unfathomable as the snowflakes drifting aimlessly in the wind.