Because the crystal ball shattered, the black-mist shield guarding Bazeroth tore like midnight gauze and vanished.

Meanwhile, residual current crawled down the staff like icy snakes, numbing Bazeroth’s limbs.

Lucimia cast Whirlwind Dance again; the thunderstrike returned like a storm-scythe cutting through a bamboo grove.

KRAK—!!

The bolt lunged like a dragon, savage and fanged, straight at Bazeroth.

Dread knifed his gut; without that mist shield, he couldn’t withstand the spell.

Numbness locked his body like a puppet with cut strings; only his mouth could move.

At that thought, he shrieked like a ghost, “Ahhhhh—!! My Lord! Save me!”

As the plea fell, his eyes clouded like muddy water; black mist rolled from his gaping mouth like ink, cocooning him in a heartbeat.

BOOM!!

The bolt hit, punched through the mist like a spear, then slammed into the grassland below.

Dust geysered up; Lucimia hovered high like a hawk over a storm, watching.

When the smoke thinned, Bazeroth was gone; only a crater gaped in the grass like an earth-mouth.

“…Dead? Or did he flee?”

Lucimia couldn’t be sure. She opened the Magic Eye, her gaze a cutting blade, and swept the field. No trace of Bazeroth.

Desty drifted over like a red comet.

“Whew, finally done.” She exhaled, a burden sliding off her shoulders like a loosened yoke.

“…Not necessarily.” Wariness sat cold in Lucimia’s voice, like frost under noon sun.

“Didn’t he just turn to ash? Bazeroth should be dead, right?” Desty sheathed her sword and flicked her hair like a burning ribbon.

Lucimia glanced at Desty, paused, and said, “I’ll ask you one question later,” pinning the thought like a thread.

“…I don’t get what you’re saying.” Fog pooled in Desty’s eyes.

“It’s nothing. Is the noble head of Val Town still in town? Also, where’s the rest of the Church team?” Lucimia turned the topic like a folding fan.

“The Holy Knights are still in town. After I used the Purification Blessing to reveal the Magic Array’s true face, they saw it, and they know about Bazeroth now. Some went back to the main Church to report. Others confronted the local nobles. The family head fled, leaving only his son. The son’s already in custody. A small team split off to chase the runaway lord.” Her words ran clear, like a stream mapping what just happened.

“By the way, will you come with us to the Town of Tranquility? The mages are still there. Besides Bazeroth, I can conduct the Exorcism Ritual myself.” Her tone was a steady lantern in wind.

Lucimia considered, thoughts circling like cranes, then shook her head like a reed in a pond. “Let them come on their own. Come back with me first; I have questions.”

“…Alright.”

The two flew high, gliding like swallows toward the Town of Tranquility.

Lucimia glanced back at the yawning crater, a door in the earth. No trace of Bazeroth. She sighed and focused on flight.

Midway, Lucimia asked, beads of words slipping into the wind, “When did your group reach Val Town?”

“Three days ago,” Desty answered cleanly, like a knife’s cut.

“Three days? You stayed that long?” Surprise pricked Lucimia like a thorn; it matched when Yuna gained her ability.

“Yeah. From the Church, Bazeroth pushed hard to Val Town like a cart that never stopped. Once there, he kept negotiating with the local noble about something. I don’t know the details,” Desty said, her memories like soft silk.

“A cold knot tightened; three days are enough for him to start the array,” Lucimia thought, worry curling like smoke.

Had Elyssus already possessed him? Was that last plea a safeguard from Elyssus, like Ritch’s Purification pendant, a talisman against death?

Or was the possession already in his bones like a shadow?

She couldn’t be sure the bolt truly struck him, doubt fluttering like a moth.

“No.” Desty shook her head; her red hair swayed like flame. “At least publicly, no. Secretly? Unlikely. I was lodged right by the Magic Array. I could see it from my window like a watchtower. At night, no one came; the street was a closed curtain.”

“Not necessarily,” Lucimia countered, voice a cool blade. “Bazeroth serves Elyssus. He carries a Blessing of deceit that can fog your eyes. Your Blessing isn’t passive, right? If you don’t trigger it, you won’t see it.”

“Eh?” Desty’s eyes widened like saucers; shock rolled through her like thunder. “Elyssus… wasn’t it only a hypothetical Dark Deity the Church posited? So it’s real?”

“Mm.” Lucimia nodded, a steady drumbeat.

“This…” Desty looked stunned; the info burst like a firecracker. After what she’d seen, she chose belief. “So that’s how it is… The Church’s been infiltrated by another Dark Deity…” The thought crept like roots under stone.

Desty murmured, then lifted her head, voice taut like a bowstring. “Thank you, um… big-shot mage?”

“…”

What kind of title was that, pebble-awkward in her shoe?

“I’m Lucimia Lancelot,” Lucimia corrected, her name a carved seal.

“Oh, oh.” Desty nodded like a pecking chick. “Anyway, thank you for helping the Church root out a mole. As expected of the Exorcist Family—warding off evil, sheltering the people. I should learn from you! Oh, I’m Desty.”

She spoke earnestly; her small fist clenched like a sprout pushing soil.

“Uh…” Awkwardness pricked Lucimia like nettles. “…I’m not that noble. I’m doing it for myself.”

But in Desty’s ears, those words turned into something else, like rain misheard as applause.

“I get it, I get it. That’s the humility my teacher preached, right? As expected of the Exorcist Family’s young lady. Strong, and charismatic. I must learn from you!”

“…”

Was Desty always like this? She’d seemed proper before, a mask now slipping like silk.

Whatever. Let her think what she wants; thoughts flutter like birds.

They soon reached the Town of Tranquility, its roofs calm as resting waves.

Lucimia wondered if she should tell her father she went ahead to Val to handle Bazeroth, her thoughts looping like kites. Then she pictured the hassle; he’d hound her with questions like summer gnats. Even if he knew her strength, little would change. It’s enough to let him know Bazeroth’s a problem.

She chose to let Desty speak instead, passing the reed flute of news.

“Eh? You’re not telling him? It’s mainly your credit. No, I can’t take others’ credit. My teacher said…” Her principles felt carved like tablets.

“Stop.” Lucimia raised a hand, a fan halting wind.

“Just say Bazeroth’s a problem. The Magic Array’s a problem. Val Town’s nobles are a problem. And in the end, Bazeroth fled.” Each word fell like drumbeats.

“Fled? Didn’t he die?” Desty tilted her head, a question-mark bird.

“Not sure he died. It’s safer to say he fled, a lantern-light choice. Okay, leave it; just say that.” Lucimia didn’t want to explain more. “I’ll head back first. Come in through the main gate later.”

“Alright.” Desty nodded, a leaf drifting down.