"What the fuck... is going on?"

Moen turned his head stiffly, and when he saw what was happening behind him, he was so frightened he almost jolted all over.

The sun had gotten bigger.

No, no, that wasn’t it—it hadn’t gotten bigger.

The so-called increase was only a visual illusion.

The truth was... the sun... fucking... was coming down!

Head-on, straight at him, it was coming down!

Everything of the giant tower was quickly swallowed by that crimson sun, yet even that couldn’t stop the sun’s descent. It was as if an invisible giant hand were yanking it down, ruthlessly, without the slightest hesitation—if anything, it even looked a little gleeful.

"Why is it coming down?"

Although he knew this sun wouldn’t pose any danger to him as its former user, Moen still felt an inexplicable sense of dread rising in his chest.

Earlier, to completely incinerate that million-strong crowd, Moen, unable to sustain the Crimson Blaze, could only choose to release the divine favor.

Divine favor was basically the evolution of a portion of a god’s authority. In theory, once that portion of authority was fully released and burned the target to ash, it should have directly returned to the King of Wither.

After all, what Moen had just done was essentially to relinquish the divine favor in exchange for the rule-level might of the authority itself when unleashed.

But why, after burning and burning, did it turn around and come at me?

Your mom is the King of Wither, not me!

Moen gritted his teeth. He didn’t know what was happening, but he almost instinctively pulled Lea tight into his arms to shield her.

"You okay?"

"I... I’m fine."

Lea finally came back to her senses from the lingering afterglow of her climax, wrapped her arms around Moen’s waist, her beautiful eyes wide, clearly just as spooked by the scene.

"Nothing feels off with your body, right?"

Moen asked in worry.

If the Crimson Blaze really suddenly went berserk, he worried whether he could truly protect Lea.

After all, he wasn’t really the Crimson Blaze’s master anymore.

"N-no..."

Lea shook her head lightly. "It’s just a bit hot."

"Just a bit hot?"

Moen was slightly taken aback. Since when had Wither-bro’s Crimson Blaze gotten so gentle that the temperature only made a girl feel a little warm—maybe it didn’t even measure up to my burning stick?

No...

Suddenly, a bolt of realization flashed through his mind, and Moen understood:

"The Crimson Blaze’s target is me!"

Boom!

In the few split seconds while his thoughts spun, the sun finally landed completely on Moen.

The Crimson Blaze did not bring destruction. The restless firelight roared in like a tide and actually...

tried to burrow back into Moen’s body.

Not only that, it seemed to be seeking something. The feeling was like... a kid who’d been beaten outside, instinctively running home to seek shelter—no, running home to grab something, then turning around to go beat them back.

But I’m not your dad, and I don’t have any milk for you!

Moen looked back in a daze—and froze again.

This time, once his body was fully shrouded within the scarlet giant sun, only then, through the corona his gaze could now penetrate, did he understand what was going on.

Falling... wasn’t just the sun.

There was also... a fucking... moon!

A fucking moon!

Up on the firmament, a big pitch-black hole stood out starkly. A bright lunar disc, wreathed in holy radiance, as if yanked down with a single slap, descended from the sky and smashed squarely onto the scarlet sun.

Two utterly opposite forces collided with a thunderous boom, engulfing everything.

And at this moment, the moon clearly had the high-ground advantage; as the medium by which the church contaminated this world, and with the Goddess Emil’s power as external aid, it held the upper hand, slamming down the sun—which didn’t even have a true body.

In order to resist, the Crimson Blaze instinctively sought support. But this was Canterville, the church’s core territory, and the King of Wither was probably off in some godforsaken corner digesting the real moon.

Unable to find its real mom, the Crimson Blaze had to settle for this stepmom...

Mm, that was basically the idea...

But the problem was, this stepmom didn’t have any milk either!

Moen gnashed his teeth. He could feel the agitation once the Crimson Blaze reentered his body, instantly devouring the little mana and battle aura he had just managed to gather.

But that was a drop in the bucket. The Crimson Blaze rampaged madly through his body, and the effects were already tugging at his internal injuries and the rejection response of his alchemical core.

Under a pain like being torn apart, Moen didn’t even have the mind to savor the soft, fragrant warmth in his arms.

"Moen..."

Lea stroked Moen’s face, heart aching, wanting to do something, but right now she herself was in a weakened state.

And just as Moen felt that before Lea could drain him dry, the Crimson Blaze was going to, something that—thanks to Lea’s sharing and the souls’ repayment—he had temporarily forgotten, yet had always been there, seized the opportunity and surfaced again.

Beneath Moen, the sea of black mire surged. Confirming that Moen at this moment had not a shred of protection or strength to resist, endless resentment once more swept toward him!

Then the surging of the black mire came to an abrupt halt.

Because the solar disc enveloping Moen, the moment the black mire emerged, was like a long-starved vagrant seeing a roast chicken jump out of a display case on its own...

If the Crimson Blaze had either a human form or any intelligence, Moen felt it would be eyes sparkling, drool pouring down.

So, without hesitation, the solar disc ground forward, and boundless crimson flames pounced excitedly toward the black mire.

In an instant, countless roars, cries, sobs, and curses sounded by Moen’s ears. The colossal resentment formed by a million people did not get instantly devoured under the burning of the Crimson Blaze.

Because the solar disc also had to contend with the remnants of that once-true moon.

The mire heaved; failing to land the roast chicken, it instead got a tooth chipped. Under the backlash of the resentment, the crimson flames gradually took on a taint.

For a moment, three kinds of—

No.

The King of Wither’s Crimson Blaze.

The remains of the Moon of Silence.

The resentment of a million people.

And the goddess’s power using the moon’s remains as a medium.

And the mark left by the former Mother of Fertility that stirred those resentments...

A full five different forces clashed with unprecedented intensity. Quite the spectacle...

"But the problem is..."

Moen’s features twisted, the pain so great he wanted to slam his head into the ground.

"If you’re going to fight, fight—can you not mess around on somebody else’s body... It’s going to break..."

Moen felt his body had already become a complete mess amid these five mutually incompatible forces, whose enthusiastic exchange was like mixing water into oil and then adding concentrated sulfuric acid.

In extreme weakness and agony, Moen’s consciousness drifted away.

Only, as it drifted, for some reason—clearly a place like this was impossible for that damn white-haired loli to show up—he nevertheless sensed an all-too-familiar aura of being set up.

...

"Disciple?"

Mela tapped her forehead with a petite hand, stuck out her tongue, and said playfully:

"Oops, look at my memory—I accidentally forgot."

But the Pontiff wasn’t buying the malicious cutesiness of this millennia-old loli at all. After a brief contemplation, his brows furrowed deeply.

He looked at Mela, uncertain, and said:

"You did it on purpose?"