“The cost of using Authority Power is life and soul? And there’s pollution too?” The thought felt off to Lucimia, like a cracked bell in mist.

“It sounds strange. Normally, people who use Blessings pay a price. Why would Authority Power demand one too?” Her doubt slid like a cold knife.

“Lucimia, that’s a blind spot,” the mouse statue’s eyes pulsed red, like embers in ash. “Running burns stamina, magic drains mana. Why wouldn’t Authority Power and Blessing consume energy?”

“And remember,” his glow steadied like a watchful star, “you and I aren’t Dark Deities. We aren’t gods. Using power costs energy. That’s normal, like rain soaking earth.”

It did make sense, like pieces clicking in a clock. By Nirael’s logic, Lucimia’s Reversion also consumed energy. It took life and soul. Whose? The answer pricked like a thorn. She’d hardly absorbed anyone else’s life or soul. So the candle burning was her own.

“So, what is a Dark Deity?” Lucimia asked, a quiet ripple in a dark lake.

“I’ll tell you after the plan’s done,” Nirael said, holding the answer like smoke in a fist. “One thing first. To absorb energy, it must be linked to your Authority Power.”

“For example, my Authority Power is Plague,” his words crept like ivy over stone. “If I want to absorb life and soul, I must use plague. I have to harm or kill with disease. Only then can I take the target’s life and energy. If I kill someone with a knife, I can’t absorb a thing.”

“As for why I can absorb energy when I heal,” his tone softened, like dusk over fields, “it’s because I remove disease—virus—from others. That virus already hurt them. I can draw energy from that damage. The virus is my medium, like a bridge of thorns.”

“Mhm.” Lucimia nodded, intent like a hawk over snow.

“Use Authority Power too much,” Nirael warned, voice like frost on glass, “and consumption spirals. You lose control. Absorb too much, and energy overflows. Pollution rises, and you lose control.”

“I figured some of that,” she said, a thin smile like a shore under storm.

Balance was needed, a tightrope over fog. It would be hard, like threading a needle in wind.

Nirael went on, each word a bead of iron. “Using your own life and soul brings no pollution. But if you drain them dry, you lose control. Absorbing others’ life and energy brings pollution, because that’s someone else’s soul. Pollution doesn’t fade with spent energy. It persists, like rust on bone. For now, there’s no cure.”

“Mm…” Her silence hung like a dim lantern.

“Anything else?” He saw her head dip, a shadow folding like paper.

“Of course,” she said, steadied like a shoreline. “How will you deal with Ment? You claimed a hundred percent certainty. I want the details.”

“Good.” The mouse statue’s red light blinked twice, like fireflies in a cave. “I’ll infect him without him noticing. I’ll pair it with my time acceleration, so disease blooms fast and kills. The method’s set. Do you remember that huge Cross?”

“I remember,” Lucimia said, memory rising like smoke.

That vast black Cross, like a stake in the earth, had appeared when she sent Fuzzy Orb to scout the origin of Mystic Return Smoke in the last loop. It was where Fuzzy Orb died first, a black petal at night.

“Ment’s already in a runaway state,” Nirael said, voice like iron rain. “He wants to control the entire empire, turn it into his puppet, then wage war outside. It feeds his desire like fire feeds dry reeds.”

“The first step,” he continued, “is a curse to control everyone, a net over the sea. It needs enough energy and a ritual. The black Cross is part of that ritual. There are five across the empire. Once they’ve soaked up enough energy, Ment can cast a nationwide curse.”

“The energy the Crosses absorb flows into Ment,” his tone sharpened, like a scalpel. “I’ll send disease through the Cross as a medium. The hard part is staying unseen. That means poisoning without alerting him, and slipping past his self-checks for infection. To kill him, we need enough disease, like rain filling a cistern. We can’t dump it all at once. We must keep dosing. And we have to pollute all five Crosses. If not, he’ll restore himself by drawing from the clean ones, like drinking from other wells.”

Lucimia listened, focused like a needle. Desty listened too, her confusion thinning like clouds after dawn.

“Let me guess,” Lucimia said, a faint smile like a hidden blade. “You want me as a lighthouse to guide rats and worms. And the route is those five Cross locations?”

“Yes.” His answer landed like a stone in still water. “The five places are Jaha Town, Wasan Village, Nach Valley, Erwei City, and Royal Capital Luo.”

“Our full plan is this,” Nirael said, mapping lines like constellations. “You’ll use your way to stop the smoke from settling, and help me break the first layer of sealing. You’ll also help me pollute the Cross in Jaha Town. Then follow the route. At each stop, help me break the seal and pollute the Cross. Keep going until the Sacred Fog Domain in the Royal Capital. Ment’s there. Leave the rest to me.”

“This sounds good,” Lucimia said, gaze like rain on slate. “The framework holds. The details carry too many variables, like shadows under reeds.”

“That’s why I need you,” Nirael replied, warmth brief as dawn on frost.

“I’ve got another question,” Lucimia said, curiosity flickering like candlelight. “What’s your energy absorption process?”

She couldn’t reconcile it. If absorption must use plague, why do the rats and worms just eat? The theory clashed like gears grinding.

“Simple,” Nirael said, a low hum like bees in thistle. “Let worms and rats bite and infect. I accelerate time. The disease erupts. They die. Then worms and rats eat the bodies, so Ment can’t use them. Ash to ash, and no residue he can steal.”

“Mm… I see…” The logic settled like dust in a glass.

She fell into silence, feeling the absurdity bite like winter wind. Here she was, planning a killing with the Plague God.

“Any more questions?”

“None,” she said, words like closed shutters.

“My turn,” Nirael said. His red eyes flashed again, a pulse like a heartbeat in stone. “Have you decided how to stop the smoke from settling?”

Lucimia had noticed the repeated blinking, a restless beat like a caged sparrow. Maybe Nirael wanted to gesture, but the statue held him still, so light became his motion.

She gathered her words, smooth as silk over wood. “I’ll make a product or method that replaces Mystic Return Smoke. People will accept it. Their acceptance will cancel the smoke, like wind dispersing fog. It must meet three points. First, it can’t consume my energy, like a mill that runs on river flow. Second, it can’t make people think it uses a Dark Deity’s power, so no sacred trappings. Third, it must beat Mystic Return Smoke in efficiency, and be easy to learn and spread, like fire catching dry grass.”

“I’ve got a rough idea,” she added, a quiet ember. “I needed to confirm the nature of energy, so I came to ask you.”

“Details?” Nirael asked, voice like a taut string.

“Deception,” Lucimia answered, crisp as a knife in water.

“Deception?”

“Yes. Ment’s Mystic Return Smoke is deception. We can make a similar thing. His smoke is rationed daily, a trickle from a black spring. We’ll create a product with high output and low cost, like loaves from air. Price… no. Better with no price. Everyone can make it themselves, like bread in every oven.”