Bone-white skeletons erupted from the earth.
Each took a distorted shape. Mud clung to their frames, slowly coalescing into patchy flesh that bubbled up from within the bones like foam. Defying all biology, limbs swelled grotesquely or withered away.
Most were bloated horrors—upper bodies inflated like balloons over stick-thin legs, or one arm thick enough to fell an ox while the other sagged uselessly, forcing a lopsided, awkward gait.
Only one trait united them: hastily assembled faces clogged with mud. A field of faceless ones.
Confronted with these eerie beings—whose combined features couldn’t form a single face—Noah froze for just seconds before acting.
Without hesitation, he unfastened the Anna-brand belt at his waist.
Before Anna could react, Noah seized its end and whipped it fiercely toward the nearest faceless one.
A scourge delivered by a devout believer.
*Crack!*
A spatial distortion flashed and vanished, swallowing the creature’s upper half. Only its trembling lower body remained, collapsing to its knees with a thud.
“So fragile?” Noah murmured, surprised.
To him, the faceless one had simply shattered after one strike—clearly all bark and no bite.
But Anna saw otherwise.
As the belt, flung through air, she witnessed space violently compress around the target an instant before impact. A void opened; black hole-like pressure pulverized its torso. She’d swung through nothing.
Recalling Noah’s earlier feat—breaking through the Netherlake to reach its depths—
Anna slowly realized: *I might have resurrected someone extraordinary.*
…
The lashing continued.
Noah wielded Anna—strange as it sounded, true nonetheless.
Channeling his spiritual form, he used her as a whip, swiftly clearing surrounding faceless ones.
They showed no intelligence.
No matter how gruesomely comrades fell, they charged without pause.
Soulless yet driven by a singular will: fanatical obsession with *“preventing all external intrusion.”*
Noah even saw broken bones writhing on the ground—like unyielding warriors born solely to guard this place.
Yet darkness and peace were all things’ final rest.
Every bone shattered. Every faceless one returned to soil.
When the last crumbled to dust, the Goddess of Death’s ribcage held no other presence.
Noah exhaled deeply, ready to coil Anna back at his waist.
Glancing down, he stilled.
Faint starlight had risen past his hips—a sign his time in the Netherlake was nearly up, ending this rare ascension.
With no choice, he wound Anna into a scarf around his neck.
Oddly, she raised no protest.
Uncharacteristically quiet since earlier—unlike her lively self.
“What’s wrong?” Noah murmured, concern softening his voice. “Hit too hard? Concussed?”
“No. But close,” Anna retorted coldly. “Try being whipped around like a belt. Keep it up, and even if I’m not concussed, I’ll vomit all over you.”
“You’re mist now. Can you even get dizzy?”
“Undying One thing. You wouldn’t get it.”
True. Aelia spoke after becoming bones. Anna feeling nausea as mist? Normal enough. Biology meant little to the Undying Ones.
Seeing Noah drop the question, Anna inwardly sighed.
Her silence wasn’t from dizziness—but from pondering *him*.
This new guild president clearly held extraordinary origins. Perhaps more than just “Father of the Mediator.”
Yet Noah remained utterly unaware, as if it were natural.
Two possibilities: Noah was the anomaly… or *she* was losing her mind.
She’d heard many Heretic Deviants were fallen madmen—those who glimpsed divine wisdom, failed to comprehend it, and shattered into chaos.
Before arriving at Arvin Hamlet, she’d seen one: muttering, drifting, eyes locked to the ground. His wild power surged like spears, razing towns until a cardinal of the Holy Third Church purified him.
Noah was nothing like that.
Logical. An excellent cook.
*A Heretic Deviant who washes veggies and scrubs kitchens?* Unlikely.
“Anna. Anna.”
Startled from thought, Noah patted the scarf.
“Huh? What?!” Anna jolted. “Something happen?”
Noah noted her oddness but had no time.
He’d spotted the journey’s end.
“Look there.” He pointed.
Deep within the Netherlake’s black waters.
At the heart of the Goddess of Death’s ribcage.
A throne forged from shattered bones stood in utter silence.
Upon the Bone Throne, a skeleton sat upright—gazing distantly at them.
…
An invisible pressure surged.
The world seemed to compress.
Noah felt like a deep diver crushed by depth—breath ragged, rhythm broken, a chilling wind flooding his core.
Same bones as the faceless ones… yet *this* presence inflicted pain merely by being observed.
If that colossal ribcage was the Goddess of Death…
What entity could make *Noah*—who faced Her directly—feel suffocated, agonized?
*What is this skeleton—*
“Anna, why the hell are you squeezing so tight?!”
Anna, coiled tight around his neck, had instinctively constricted.
*No wonder I couldn’t breathe!*
“S-sorry,” she loosened, flustered. “I got startled! And whose idea was wrapping me *here*? I’m mist—I contract when nervous, expand when calm. Can’t control it!”
Noah unwound her, retying her firmly around his arm. “What’s so scary? Is this skeleton special?”
“Very.” Anna didn’t deny it. “Sounds familiar… from our sect’s legends.”
“A legendary figure?”
Interest flickered in Noah. He let the near-strangulation slide.
Drifting closer to the Bone Throne, he asked, “Who is it?”
“Details are fuzzy,” Anna mused, eyes fixed ahead. “First pope? Something like that… Had a title so intimidating it’d make believers faint.”
*Unreliable as ever,* Noah thought. “You call yourself devout but can’t recall doctrine?”
“My faith is in my heart, not performance,” Anna declared righteously. “And those scriptures are wrong. I wish the old stubborn fools would visit the Netherlake—see how absurd their writings are.”
Noah shook his head. “They’re not like you. They wouldn’t come back.”
He halted.
Now directly before the Bone Throne.
His abdomen began fading—time was nearly gone.
Yet Noah stayed calm, studying the skeleton.
Upright posture. Snow-white bones. No visible trauma. Frame perfectly proportioned, gender indiscernible.
The suffocation had been Anna’s panic.
But the pressure? Real.
Standing here, he felt its commanding weight.
Dead—yet radiating a king’s authority upon the throne.
After a long look, Noah murmured, “Could… *this* be the true Goddess of Death? That ribcage outside feels more like a palace.”
“Impossible.” Anna was firm. “It carries Her aura—strongly—but it’s male. At best, a God of Death.”
“…”
Noah had no rebuttal.
*How’d she tell?* Then he remembered: Anna’s frequent suicides meant she knew bone structure intimately. Pelvis = gender. Simple for her.
Starlight crept to his chest.
No time left.
He considered hauling the skeleton away—they’d come this far.
As Noah reached out—
The skeleton’s jaw dropped open, mouth hollow, waiting.
“Looks like a slot,” Anna said calmly, echoing his thought. “Maybe it needs something inserted.”
Noah glanced at her. “Do doctrines mention an artifact?”
“Hmm… yes? Or no?”
*Predictable.*
“This girl’s never reliable.”
“But even if recorded,” Noah unwound her from his arm, “we only have one thing.”
“Right, just one… wait?”
Anna froze.
Noah’s hands were empty. *What “one thing”?*
She was clever.
Smarter than Shirley, at least.
So she instantly grasped what Noah meant and instinctively started to protest, “Holy crap, President! You’re so heartless…”
Before she could finish—
Noah shoved Anna inside.
