When the burn ebbed, cold flooded in, and I shivered like a leaf under frost.

Over five thousand degrees and not dead—only Stini’s ice-element magic could have wrapped us in a shell.

After scorching and a brutal slam, the frame buckled hard; my right hand felt wrist-locked—actually jammed in the warped ribs.

Hey.

The massive scythe morphed to a handsaw, then a knife, carving the armored car into chunks.

Normally this shell wouldn’t break so easy; heat expansion and cold contraction rule even in the Silver Era.

Trickcraft is absurdly handy. After Anna chopped free the iron biting my arm, I kneaded my forearm, thinking that.

Thank Gloria for not flinging us straight into a wall to die on impact.

I patted the stone, compared it to the gate’s amplification wards, and said:

This wall is specialized to resist Divine Art. The Truth Seekers Assembly planned to face the Heretic Inquisition early.

By contrast, the gate’s resistance is weak; beyond steel itself, it’s only got anti-rust and reinforcement, civilian enchantments.

That big a gap? Anna freed Stini and Nivifar, walked up, tapping with her scythe’s blade.

Yeah, a big gap. If you absolutize concepts, the wall is Unbreakable, the gate Breakable. That’s the distance.

Why?

Stini tilted her head at me.

Why is the gap that wide?

Simple—strategy.

Hard leather soles clicked on the castle stone, a crisp click-click like beads on slate.

Everyone lifted weapons, breath tight, ready to fight.

The gate is a decoy. Not a lie—it’s the strictest defense, an open, aboveboard trap.

I’m right, Mr. Paroti Surish.

He stopped twenty meters away. Arcane components around him crackled with light; his mana breathed like tides, flowing and swallowing.

He wore the peak of arcane engineering—a triple-layer enchanted set: shawl, jacket, and lower hem. Separate yet one, pushing his mana higher.

A young, handsome face, a courteous smile. He dipped his chin to us.

One of Nagash’s five brightest disciples—no, six counting you.

You know much, sir. Seems you’ve studied the Truth Seekers Assembly. Now I should ask: why are you here?

Stini murmured, uneasy, Andor, something’s off. He doesn’t feel hostile…

I raised a hand, shook my head, and kept talking with Paroti.

We’re here for Raven. We’re taking her back.

Save her? Do you mean deliverance?

He didn’t look confused; he looked like he was confirming a line.

Just as I expected.

Yeah. Every Heretic Inquisitor outside is sighting Raven’s life. I must save her.

And what do you think our Assembly’s stance is?

I, Andor, think you’ll help.

You force your way into our Hall of Truth and think we’ll help?

If you want her alive by your method, you’ll bet whether the Heretic Inquisition still cares about face.

But I—Andor the great Hero—and this tall girl who looks too cute to be imposing, Hero Stini, can vouch for Raven.

She’ll live, happy, under the sun.

You know we…

You only have that method. The only method. I can guess it.

…I don’t trust you.

But Raven will trust us.

…

Need us to toss our swords?

I threw the Greatsword at his feet.

Stini whispered, anxious, Andor… I shot her a glare and waited for Paroti’s answer.

…Alright. You’ve persuaded me. We’ll provide the ‘help’ you want.

Paroti sighed, turned, and waved for us to follow.

Thanks.

I let out a breath, glad I’d guessed right.

I hurried to his side. He frowned and said:

I don’t like you. You’re too clever. You say you like Raven? I don’t think you’ll treat her true.

Since we’ve decided to work together, why cling to it? Pointless—

—Anyway, here, in the Hall of Truth, you’re already dead.

Paroti looked at me twice, offered neither assent nor rebuttal, and said nothing.

We walked through layered corridors. I asked:

Paroti, when you brought Raven back, there was a girl with her, right?

Do you mean…the maid?

Yes, my maid, Vega. She should’ve left the Hall of Truth by now?

Exactly. She and the others…have already left. You know…

I know. Just confirming.

The heavy air got to Anna. She blurted:

What are you two talking about? Why can’t I follow?

If you understood, you’d be in more danger. For your future, please don’t ask.

Paroti turned back and warned her solemnly.

Anna muttered, knuckles whitening on the scythe, and fell silent.

At a fork, Paroti stopped and said:

Here is where the road for ordinary folk ends. For your own future, stop here.

Then Nivifar and Naiche stay. If Heretic Inquisitors break the inner ring, block them here. Stini and I go in.

Alright, leave it to me. Relax. Paid, we’ll put in the work.

Andor, what does that mean? Stini kept pace with me, eyes puzzled.

It means only Heretics and Heroes step past this point. Nivifar and Naiche aren’t Heroes.

If they follow us in, the Heretic Inquisition will likely brand them Heretic. That’d wrong them.

So even the rescue details stay sealed from them. They don’t need to hear; knowing only makes them unsafe.

Will there be danger? We’re all badly hurt.

Stini whispered and pinched my side, right over the wound. I grimaced and shot her a look.

It’s fine. We only need us—you and me.

From here, there’s no need to fight.

If it came to a fight, even all of us at full strength couldn’t win. Maybe the Hero Squad that felled the Shadow Demon King in my last life could.

I don’t get it. Why?

Because once you walk out, you face Heretic Inquisitors’ questioning. Knowing what you shouldn’t can wipe out your squad.

Not dying on the field, but in human tongues—the kind of doom you avoid if you can.

Well said, but wrong coming from a Truth Seekers Assembly man.

Stini heard the off-beat.

Wait… you mean you never planned to win this war! What is this!

Enemies we thought would help—the Assembly helps. Friends we thought would stand by—the Heretic Inquisition blocks us. What is happening!

You ask what’s happening… ha. Exactly what you see. We can’t beat the Heretic Inquisition.

Why?

Not only this war. No matter how long we rack up wins, it’s not a final victory.

Once the Heretic Inquisition defines us as ‘heretic,’ we’re fated to lose—unless we burn half the mortal world and drag the Starry Sky Divine Kingdom from the sky.

Otherwise, we can’t win…

Hey, Paroti, shut up. Don’t think I don’t see you playing to Stini.

Alright, I’ll stop.

I glared hard. He only shrugged, sped up, and sauntered ahead.

Andor, explain it to me!

It means the body count and the hours we hold aren’t the Assembly’s aim.

Then what do they fight for!

Thought. To pass thought to other people.

And then?

Nothing else. That’s all.

You’re joking… just for thought… for thought… Stini’s rising voice faded like wind down a pass.

Yes. That’s how Nagash died. To show you, and to show everyone.

But… just for… thought… to die?

Martyrdom draws every eye. People think, ‘If a thought makes someone go gladly to death, maybe it’s right.’

Then they ponder the Assembly’s truth and justice. That alone meets the Assembly’s goal.

Stini stood shocked, then lowered her head and muttered:

…I still can’t understand.

She said that, yet Nagash’s death had struck her heart like a bell.

Her clean, clear sense of right and wrong buckled under the Assembly’s gale. She wandered, unsure which path was justice.

The Assembly’s thought is rebellion against the Divine Being, the denial of sanctity—just what I want her to face.

I’m happy to help, to show her those great, clean, defiant things.

Stini hasn’t seen the Assembly’s thought up close; her sense of those rebellious Arcane Engineers rests on her talk with Nagash.

Now, Stini, you’ll understand anew—soon.

Ahead, mana gathered into a core. The surrounding flow resonated like twisters, tidal surges, and cloudbanks blotting day, a sight that seized the eyes.

This is the first. Stini, lend me your Galewind.

I held out a hand for the Holy Sword she treats as her life.