"Why would an Outer God seek to invade this world? That question remains unanswered. For now, let’s call it Proposition X—the unsolved mystery."

Archimedes adjusted his spectacles, throat dry. Right on cue, Noah wordlessly handed him a cup of tea.

The aroma of pastries had long tempted Archimedes. He lifted the cup with his claws and tipped it toward his mouth.

"Appreciated. But in any case," Archimedes continued, "the creator of this system achieved her goal."

"Over the past six months, the world’s vulnerabilities—those eroded by Outer Gods—have been sealed by the projections of otherworlders: the ‘Adventurers.’ The world has stabilized completely."

"Left without reinforcements, the remnants of the Outer Gods were divided between locals and Adventurers."

"Does the Demon King, Ledyah, know about this?" Noah asked, cradling Tuantuan. His tone was matter-of-fact.

"I’d say she likely does. Not just her—the Thunder Emperor of the North, the Elven Queen of the West. As ancient embodiments of mystery, they’ve all tacitly approved it."

Archimedes pushed his glasses up again. His pale blue draconic eyes glowed with wisdom.

"However, this system introduced two unstable elements."

"First: the Outer Gods, unwilling to accept defeat. Blocked from direct entry, they’ll exploit loopholes—finding ways to project themselves into this world through methods the system permits."

*In other words, bug exploits.* Archimedes grinned, the joy of discovery bright on his face.

"Second: the system rejects foreign souls. Non-native spirits suffer excruciating rejection—like being torn apart."

"Without special stabilization, such souls are shredded by the system. Utter annihilation."

Archimedes’ gaze locked onto Noah. At Noah’s slight nod, he confirmed his suspicion.

Beside them, Silva wore a blank stare—*clueless but impressed*.

"The other unstable factor lies in the Adventurers’ home worlds."

"Sustaining this system requires cooperation. This world alone isn’t enough; we need the otherworlders’ aid."

"Here, the system was created to save the world. But those on the other side? They wouldn’t help out of kindness. They must gain something in return."

"And *that* gain is the second source of instability."

"Still," Archimedes added lightly, "since they agreed to maintain the system, their goals likely won’t destroy the world like the Outer Gods would. Consider it dessert—worth noting, but nothing to lose sleep over."

"So... the system administrators from other worlds won’t enter this realm as... *players*?" Noah mused, chin resting on Tuantuan’s fluffy head. His expression was innocently thoughtful.

"Not impossible, but unlikely. If they wanted something, they’d have taken it the moment the system launched. No need for such theatrics."

Archimedes stated it as fact.

......

*Huff... huff...*

Dunwich Town, southern border of the Mandor Empire.

Here, where mountains met jagged coastline, the Abyssal Church’s corruption ran deep—a staging ground for grand, vile rituals. "Piercing Knight" Crenina led her troops in cleansing the blight.

A delicate-faced girl slumped against a wall, cornered. A filthy great-axe lay discarded beside her. Thin, razor-sharp objects pierced her vital points; blood flowed freely, staining her violet robes black.

"One of the Abyssal Church’s three Archbishops—‘Defilement’ Arianna," Crenina declared, her slender thrusting sword blazing with holy gold light. Her crimson armor clanked with each step, driving the girl toward death’s edge. "Who’d have thought the mighty would be caught in a beast-trap? Jackpot."

The Church’s Archbishops bore titles: "Defilement," "Silence," and "Abyss."

"Silence" was the strongest—the architect of this town’s transformation into a demon’s nest. Even now, echoes of knights battling mutated townsfolk and burning crosses haunted the streets.

Strange, that the Demon Race’s army fought like Holy Empire knights, purging evil with fire and crosses.

Archbishop "Silence," Abrahim, had already been captured alive by the Demon King and imprisoned beneath Demon King’s Castle.

Crenina had stayed only to exterminate the remaining abominations. Capturing another Archbishop? A bonus.

"Pfft. Princess of the Bloodline Royal Court, yet wielding a Holy Sword? When did bloodthirsty bats start clinging to knightly virtue? Are you a *vegetarian vampire* now?" Arianna gasped, blood pooling into a crimson stream beneath her. Paralytic toxins—enough to drop a giant beast—still coursed through her. That she stood at all spoke of terrifying willpower.

"*Vampire?!*" Crenina’s voice sharpened. "*Noble Bloodline!*" She raised her sword. White-gold energy gathered at its tip—focused, searing, rivaling a siege cannon’s heat. "Filthy cultist! My next strike pierces your heart. Go repent to your master in the dark below!"

"*Hah... hahaha!*" Arianna’s manic laughter cut through the air. She swayed, tears of mirth blurring her fading vision. "How do you know *you’re* not the one trapped, treacherous princess of a fallen race?"

*Shhk.*

A sound like water parting. The holy light on Crenina’s sword vanished. She looked down, bewildered.

An artist’s hand—long-fingered, elegant—protruded from her chest.

*Strange?*

No pain. Only blood bubbling at her lips. Confusion clouded her eyes.

*How... did he get behind me?*

The hand hadn’t physically pierced armor and flesh. Yet Crenina felt something vital draining through that wound—a slow, chilling leak.

Her eyelids grew heavy. A deep weariness washed over her, whispering of peaceful sleep.

"Princess of the Bloodline Royal Court. A soul three thousand years old—divine in purity. A magnificent specimen for study."

The man’s voice behind her was a poet’s chant. Crenina strained to turn, to see his face.

"Your soul... I shall take it."