In the eastern mountains, many trees stay green through winter, like brushstrokes that refuse to fade; it’s not due to waxy skins or needle-thin blades.

The real reason is simple—monstrification; soaked in the Ocean of Darkness like roots steeped in ink, plants get tainted and twist as they evolve.

They don’t become tree demons bent on ruin, slashing at people like storm-broken branches, but monster-grown flora still stand with the dark.

Curiosity comes like a moth to a lantern; people carry home an evergreen prize, then choke on the fumes it breathes and die.

There aren’t many around our temporary town, like sparse thorns after frost; but near the frontline, Blue Moon Lake grows them like a tide.

Pigments bleed from leaf and vine like spilled dye, staining the whole basin deep blue; from above, the lake curls like a crescent moon.

“All of this is monster-grown flora.”

Disgust tightened my chest; I nudged out my Greatsword and parted the scarlet leaves, and the true face of Blue Moon Lake opened like a fan.

The crushed plant’s tip burst with a wet pop; blue sap spattered like rain. Nivifar and I dodged with a grimace, while Gloria just stood.

“This isn’t toxic.”

“It’s still gross. Clean it up. If Elina were here, she could use Divine Art to scrub this filth clean.”

“This isn’t toxic. They say Blue Moon Lake turned blue because a Divine Being descended…”

“Nivifar, do you know why Blue Moon Lake is blue?”

Annoyance pricked; I wiped Gloria down and cut her off. That halting rhythm is cute for a line or two, but a speech? Nauseating.

“I do. I’m local.”

“Good. If you both know it, we don’t need a lecture. Where’s Stini?”

Locals claim a Divine Being bathed here; plants and waters caught that breath, turning ghostly blue like dusk on glass.

Whatever the tale, the magic answer is monsterized plants; the stain of the Ocean of Darkness clings like night dew to everything.

The lake’s blue mist carries no poison, like fog after rain; it still blinds me, veiling the far shore in a washed-out veil.

“Eyes up. The Demon King could hit any time. Ready for a fight. Save the trivia for after steel sings.”

Cover me. With our captain gone, I took the lead; warning given, I crouched and drew a few gadgets from the Shadow like fish from dark water.

“This is Raven’s work—affordable scouting tech. It flies straight and searches targets, like a darting swallow.”

It’s one of Raven’s rare commercial alchemy pieces; shaped like a bee, fast as a wasp, it scouts a wide swath ahead.

I slipped on the custom holographic glasses and watched the shared feed from the scout bee, a blue-tinted window into the thicket.

“The resonance was here just now. But there’s no fighting now.”

Gloria’s whisper nudged me like a breeze.

Then Stini already killed the Demon King?

I have to believe Stini won; I can’t picture that cockroach-tough Hero dying while we’re out doing side work.

“Stini’s that strong? Doesn’t add up… uh, something’s wrong.”

I took off the holographic glasses and led us toward a break in the mist, like a path cut through wheat.

A Demon King’s corpse lay scattered like smashed idols; four parts, maybe more, yet still vaguely humanoid.

My guess was right—the master of that mid-tier thrall we met, my younger brother with the “Redundancy” authority domain.

No grief rose; a crooked laugh almost did, like a spark under damp ash.

His soul is probably in a Demon Realm tavern, nursing a bitter cup, cursing the Hero’s sudden blow. He gets to idle; I grind like a dog. Stini should’ve hit harder.

The corpse breathes thick magic from the Ocean of Darkness, like heat off tar; yet unlike my other siblings, “Redundancy” barely stains the land.

Strange.

I stepped in for a closer look, drawn like a moth to the mystery’s flame.

“Andor, careful.”

Princess Golia blocked me like a shield. I patted her arm, steady as stone, telling her it’s fine.

I pressed my palm to the corpse, fingers sifting like reeds; I feigned rummaging while I stirred the “Shadow” domain to read the past.

Stranger still.

Usually, a slain Demon King leaks concept-laden, high-purity magic like a leaking well, warping the world into a slice of Demon Realm.

“Redundancy” holds plenty of magic, yet it feels dead, like cooled ash; some Demon King traits vanished, leaving plain magic with no spillover stain.

“If the Demon King died here, where’s Stini?”

Damn. Did they die together? Panic bit like winter. I scanned the battlefield ripped like a sky split by lightning.

That idiot… where did she go!

“Ah, I’m right here! Andor, you came to find me! I’m so happy—let’s get married.”

Stini walked out of the ghost-blue fog, two roasted Baro rabbits swinging like bells from her hands.

Domestic warmth walked onto bloodied ground; we all blinked like owls at noon.

I gave her a firm knuckle to the head; the thunk felt righteous.

“Ow! Why hit me? Oh, I get it—two Baro rabbits aren’t enough. I’ll catch more—ow, why hit me again?”

“Explain where you ran off to this time. Then I’ll decide if you earn another punch.”

I smiled what I like to call gentle; it probably looked like a drawn bow.

Ten minutes later, Stini finally finished her tale, a string of “heroics” fluttering like prayer flags.

“After I left you, something here called to me, like a bell under water.”

“So you rushed in to solo a Demon King?”

“Not really.”

“Swallow your food before you speak.”

Stini hugged her roasted rabbits like treasure. I drew a five-star spread from the Shadow; she ditched those under-seasoned carcasses like yesterday’s bread.

“Andor, you’ll make a great husband.”

“Then what actually happened?!”

“Then I met the Demon King.”

“You’re not strong enough to solo even the weakest Demon King.”

“Of course not. I played support for a middle-aged uncle. He killed the Demon King.”

An uncle? Another player pops from the mist.

“Nagash-uncle is amazing. His alchemy is strong, and he can summon a super huge sword. The giant blade did the killing.”

Stini finished her meal with a satisfied burp; she patted her belly and carried the rabbits to the blue shore like offerings.

“Uncle, lunch’s here.”

She ate the gourmet meal herself and tossed the disliked Baro rabbits to someone else. This Hero is rotten.

“Thank you, girl. Also, I’m an Arcane Engineer, not an alchemist. Alchemy was lost—craft of the Sorcerer Emperor.”

The calm lake heaved like a sleeping beast; a vortex opened, and a well-built man walked out, taking the rabbits with a nod.

His hair shone sea-green, and where human ears should be fluttered ear fins, thin as leaves.

“Uh, uncle, who are you?”

“Me? I’m Nagash. Heard the name?” He scanned us and smiled, a traveler’s relief after a long road.

I had a faint impression; I think Raven mentioned him. “Your ear fins are…”

“Mm. I’m the Chair of the Truth Seekers Assembly. Fishfolk—Nagash.”

His eyes shone too bright, like knives in noon sun; I disliked it. It felt like Head’s gaze.

Eyes of people who know too much, staring through the skin of the world.

Nagash sat on a lakeside rock and tasted the rabbit like a ceremony; crisp outside, dry inside, still eaten with care.

It must taste bad; Stini can’t cook, living on school cafeteria trays like a sparrow at a shrine.

Yet Nagash cherished every bite, chewing slowly, as if listening to embers.

“The Demon King is truly fearsome. Only after facing one did I grasp what you fight, monsters cast like shadows.”

He patted Stini’s head; she chuckled, content as a cat in sun.

“Uncle, you look younger. Is that fishfolk magic?”

“No. When we first met, I’d been dry too long, and we look old without water. That’s a fishfolk trait.”

Interesting—the Creator gave different races such quirks like seeds to wind.

“A gift, hm… an intriguing take. So, what do you think of Divine Beings?”

Something about him felt off, like a storm rolling low; he seemed urgent, words pressing forward. My gut said danger neared like thunder.

“Divine Beings are gentle.”

“Gentle—new phrasing. You know, Stini, I don’t like Divine Beings. I dislike them very much.”

“Hey, Stini, this guy’s not right…”

I grabbed her shoulder, heart tight as a fist; she shrugged me off and argued with him, voice bright as steel.

“But Divine Beings did no wrong. They work hard to help the world grow better. Why hate such a great presence?”

“Because they do too much. This is the human world; we shouldn’t let gods decide our choices.”

“We trust their decisions because they’re usually right; that’s why we place faith in them.”

Nagash pressed his reason like a blade; Stini held her ground, reasoning like a shield.

They were like debate partners under lantern light, spending words like arrows for their truths.

I understood. Stini didn’t come to slay the Demon King; she came to speak to Nagash, called by fate like a moon draws tides.

She came to save a lost soul, to clasp a hand drifting toward the deep.

“Even if it’s correct, it’s still another’s choice, beyond mortal reach; what meaning does such ‘rightness’ hold?”

“We want to save more lives, to be right; that’s why we pray to Divine Beings.”

“Earn what’s right by your own hands, choose yourself, shoulder failure and pain. Only after tasting failure can you greet success. Humans won’t die without gods.”

“Divine Beings love humanity! They act out of love and grant favor; even if you reject good deeds, why refuse kindness?”

Sadly, the Silver Era holds no salvation, a season of bright steel and cold stars.

In this age, those who face the light need no saving; those who court the dark scorn being saved, like wolves refusing a leash.

In this age, black and white already parted, good and evil already named; no matter how Stini cries herself hoarse, she can’t draw anyone back.