At this point, Xiu and Alvis drew a sharp breath, cold mist curling in their chests like winter air.

On one hand, they finally knew Authority Power was a gift fallen from the true Dark Deity, a shadow beyond the lamplight that people never saw.

On the other hand, even from ink alone they felt Olivya’s resolve; if a Dark Deity mounted iron fangs on humanity named Authority Power, those fangs could bite the hand that forged them.

How would Olivya answer? The two hurried on, eyes like arrows skimming lines.

—Time: Year 221.

—I found the door.

—Time: Year 222.

—[garbled scrawl]

—Time: Year 225.

—[garbled scrawl]

—Time: Year 227.

—I, #%@, go %d#

The next years were almost all gibberish and doodles, pages like wind-blown leaves, leaving Xiu and Alvis lost in the weeds.

Until Year 230, when the script cleared again, like a river shedding its silt.

—Time: Year 230.

—My companions and I used the Dark Deity, weaving a blockade around our world’s rim to bar Them from entering, a ring of spears in the dusk.

—Some were willing; some were not. The Purification Deity, for one—I could only drive her out and seal her by force, cold chains and runes hammered shut.

—I can no longer helm myself. Another persona keeps tugging at the wheel; she wants to wreck my plan. I must strangle her in the cradle. The only way is…

—This is all I can do. They won’t simply abandon the board. One day They’ll return like a storm crawling over dry plains. Each time a sealed Dark Deity breaks, our shield tears open, and Their influence rolls in like fog.

—Among them, the greatest seal is the Purification Deity, Vosh. She was first and most crucial. She can speak with Them—no, perhaps she is Their incarnate projection, a mirror walking.

—Her aim is simple. Shatter my shield, usher in the true Dark Deity, lanterns doused for the revel.

—They hunger not only for victory but for sport. They gift some with great power just to watch humans carve each other, like dice tossed across a blood-red board.

—I used Devouring to take Itel’s Authority Power, sparing him from strings and crossbars, no one’s puppet.

—I told Itel: if that day comes, we’ll need your help, a hand on the lever when the flood rises.

—He agreed, like a steady torch in wind.

—I laid out my plan. I know it’s brutal; perhaps even I won’t finish it. But I believe he will, an arrow that finds the mark.

—To end this, mere blocking is a paper shield in rain. One path remains: Devouring and Theft, twin blades sheathed together.

—Ha. The Dark Deities won’t expect the Authority Power they scattered like seeds to be stolen. To be seized. To be usurped.

—From now on, Devouring and Theft are mine alone—Olivya’s craft. No one can take them, no one can sway me. Yes, the stain I bear will touch my heir, but so long as it isn’t Theirs, the sky stays ours.

—Only when Devouring and Theft stand together are they whole. Devour the opponent’s seat of power, not to digest but to claim. That is… usurpation.

—Much is polluted; I re-etched only parts with special magic, letters like fresh gold on burned wood. Many pieces are missing. If the outline survives, it’s enough.

—Then, farewell. In some future, maybe I’ll return, a comet cutting twilight.

—Lastly, thank you, Itel Lot. The rest of the layout, the chessboard and stones, I leave to you.

“That’s it.” Xiu closed the diary, the cover dropping like a lid on a quiet jar.

Alvis stroked his beard, eyes narrowing to slits. “So that’s how it is… The Dark Deities aren’t the true ones, but Their toys, Their puppets. The ‘sealed Dark Deities’ are a bulwark against the real ones, and descent tears the line like a rip in cloth.”

“Mm.” Xiu nodded, a pebble tapping a drum. “So the Purification Deity worked with many of those also sealed. She may have used Purification to make people forget her deeds. After Olivya died, she rebranded herself as a righteous god, then courted other Dark Deity believers—mutual aid behind silk screens.”

“Looks like her aim is face-up now, cards on the table.”

“Mm—wait?” Xiu spoke while rechecking the notebook. On the back cover, a signature glinted like a thin blade.

“This… what?” He glanced at Alvis, surprise sparking like flint.

“What is it?”

“Look at the signature.”

Xiu handed over the notebook. Alvis saw bold letters—Olivya Lans.

“Olivya Lans?!” Alvis blinked. “Not Lancelot? Wait… Itel Lot… Olivya Lans…”

“Lancelot?!”

“Lancelot?!”

They spoke in unison, voices crossing like twin streams.

“This…” Alvis set the diary down, slow as falling ash. “The entries don’t say what bound them, but heh, these two look like our first ancestors, roots under the old oak.”

“Seems so. The Lancelot Family was likely founded by them, back in Tranquility Village—now the Town of Tranquility.”

“Even with gaps, you can see it—Olivya’s road from a naive child to a hero who could save the world. Reading feels like watching her whole life grow, sprout to tree.” Alvis sighed, wind through hollow stone.

Xiu said nothing. He smoothed his black cropped hair, lifted his sword, and rose, a shadow sharpening to a blade.

“Where?” Alvis asked, voice calm as dusk.

“To find Lucimia. It’s time to bring her back. Maybe she’s the key piece on the board.”

“Mm. You make sense. Do you know where she is?”

“Mm.” Xiu stepped onto the Teleportation Array, feet planted like stakes. Alvis followed, cloak catching like a sail.

“She’s in the Bannubi Empire. That Holy Knight named Desty is still there.”

“All right. There are Dark Deities in that direction. Watch yourself; I’ll keep this side, a wall in the wind.”

“Mm.”

Alvis triggered the Magic Array. A beam of light tore the air like a white lance, and Xiu’s figure vanished from the spot.