Anna was shoved into the skeleton’s mouth.

Her protests cut off instantly as its jaws snapped shut.

Now a wisp of black mist, Anna writhed inside, struggling to escape—yet invisible shackles held her fast. Trapped in the cramped space like a prisoner awaiting judgment, she couldn’t move an inch.

A faint scraping sound reached her ears.

The nameless skeleton seated upon the Bone Throne began to tremble. Joints creaked and cracked; fissures spiderwebbed across its frame. With sudden strength in its leg bones, it pushed itself up—this long-dead body swaying unsteadily to its feet.

Noah instinctively stepped back.

He couldn’t identify the skeleton’s true form, nor its identity.

But one thing was certain: it had awakened.

And that inexplicable pressure remained—growing stronger by the second!

Anna, still cloaked in black mist within its mouth, wasn’t digested or transformed. The ghostly flames in her hollow sockets burned bright as before. Her earlier panic had vanished, replaced by a quiet sense of peace—as if a wanderer had finally found home.

Soon after rising, the skeleton slowly lifted its head toward Noah. Though eyeless, it fixed its gaze ahead.

Strangely,

Noah felt that stare unmistakably.

Fervent. Astonished. Brimming with confusion. He sensed the skeleton knew nothing of this moment—yet felt utterly content.

“You…”

Noah stared, lips trembling, words caught in his throat.

But the skeleton needed no words.

It simply watched him.

After a beat, it crossed its arms over its chest, knelt on one knee, and bowed deeply in reverence.

Startled, Noah blinked—then noticed the skeleton lifting its head not toward him, but upward, toward the twelve colossal ribs spanning a kilometer overhead.

It bowed lower, kowtowing toward them.

A prayer to the Goddess of Death.

Anna’s presence had granted it motion once more—to offer devotion to the deity it had sworn to serve.

Twenty-four bows. Then, with quiet satisfaction, it knelt fully, relaxed, spread its arms wide, and leaned back.

Clatter—

The skeleton collapsed.

Bones scattered like a frame unbound after centuries. Each fragment crumbled on impact into fine white dust, rising as shimmering motes of light.

Anna drifted out dazedly amid the glow.

As awareness returned, she opened her mouth to confront Noah—then froze. The dust swirled, coalescing into a single, snow-white rib bone, pristine and still, resting before her.

Anna blinked. “What… just happened?”

“I don’t know. But it’s over,” Noah’s voice came from behind. “It never meant to attack. Didn’t speak. Just prayed… and then—"

“—died,” Anna finished softly. “Truly died.”

Even as a skeleton, it hadn’t met true death—until that moment.

It had vanished. Embraced oblivion.

Anna didn’t know its name or history.

But she remembered the final gesture: arms spread wide.

Acceptance. Release. Understanding.

“It was a loyal believer,” she murmured, voice steady. “More devout than most.”

Noah stayed silent a moment. Faith was not his to judge.

He turned to her. “How do you feel?”

Anna shot him a glare, muttering, “I should call you a traitor… but… weirdly good.”

Noah’s spirit drifted closer, patting her head. “Figured—since it’s tied to the Cult of the Death Goddess, stuffing you in there was safe.”

Anna had no reply.

She *did* feel kinship near those twelve ribs.

The Goddess never let her approach further—but Anna trusted there was reason.

And yes… the feeling *had* been wonderful.

“What was it like?” Noah asked.

“Hard to explain… cozy,” Anna’s mist quivered slightly. “Like… a mother’s embrace. Safe. Warm.”

“Your faith runs deep,” Noah said calmly. “That skeleton radiated death energy. Only a truly pure believer would feel comfort—not fear.”

Like Pascal’s immunity to holy light.

Anna’s devotion was exceptional. Ordinary followers would feel nothing; she felt *home*.

She spun proudly. “Told you—my faith is unshakable!”

Noah glanced back. “Yet you blame the Goddess every time a ritual fails. Doesn’t scream ‘devotion’.”

“The Goddess doesn’t mind~” Anna grinned. “She probably thinks her daughter’s in a rebellious phase. Big deal! She’s way more magnanimous than petty gods.”

*Magnanimous?*

Noah glanced up at the kilometer-long ribs.

*Yeah… her “heart” is pretty spacious.*

A flicker of regret stirred.

This ascension revealed much:

Only touching sacred objects grants entry to a deity’s realm.

He’d truly walked the Netherlake. Witnessed death-cult legend.

Learned the Goddess of Death’s form was… ribs.

Saw the Bone Throne. The skeleton upon it.

Starlight spread.

Time was short.

Noah focused on the white bone in his palm—a remnant of dissolution.

Even as a non-believer, he sensed its death energy: potent, pure, nearly matching the Goddess’s own essence.

One term flashed in his mind:

*Divine Relic.*

Only a Divine Relic held such power.

He seized it just before the starlight swallowed him. One last look at Anna.

“Find me in the guildmaster’s office later.”

Vision shattered.

A violent pull yanked him from the Netherlake—away from myth and mist.

…

…

Noah’s eyes snapped open in the guildmaster’s office.

Sunlight streamed through the window, dappling the floor.

Gentle warmth drifted on the breeze. Town sounds—footsteps, chatter—heralded Arvin Hamlet’s new day.

In the courtyard, the bird-girl napped on the iron swing. After devouring three plates of fries yesterday, she smacked her lips in sleep, giggling, “More ketchup…”

The office door remained shut, untouched.

Noah exhaled slowly, replaying the Netherlake in his mind.

A valuable second ascension.

Chaotic? Yes. But this time, he hadn’t been alone.

Anna—fiery-haired, unreliable, yet a devout believer and an Undying One with *extensive* death experience—had been his guide.

And crucially—

“Divine Relic.”

He stared at the bone. Then froze.

Something was missing.

The staff!

The black staff was gone.

Theft? Impossible. He’d sense any intrusion on his body. No alarm meant no breach.

Unless a Shadow Cult elite slipped in silently…

But the Azure Round Table was famously broke.

Rats shook their heads at their poverty.

Why steal a useless, ice-cold staff?

Only one explanation remained.

Noah studied the bone again.

Flawless as polished gem. No chill—warmth pulsed beneath his fingers, alive and gentle.

Its weight was perfect. Balanced. Made for his grip.

His first thought: *This’d crack a skull nicely.*

He set it on the desk.

Divine Relics needed worthy wielders.

Like the Kale Gem for Pascal.

This bone belonged to Anna.

Too bad she was nothing like obedient Pascal—brilliant, stubborn, gloriously her own.

Just thinking of that crimson hair made him sigh.

*Knock. Knock. Knock.*

Still drained, Noah called weakly, “Come in.”

*Knock. Knock. Knock.*

Frowning, he pushed up, crossed the room, turned the handle.

The door opened.

Horror greeted him.

Anna lay crumpled on the floor, spine snapped. Legs bent at a grotesque angle. Head lolling backward, neck twisted like rope. Yet her wide, innocent eyes blinked up at him—harmless. Curious.

Noah nearly choked.

*What the hell?! Are you cosplaying The Exorcist?!*

Anna let out two sheepish chuckles. "Guild Master, do me a favor… My waist is practically broken. I literally crawled all the way here. I’m dead tired…"

Noah: "..."

He now had to give this serious thought.

Would it be better to entrust this Divine Relic to someone else?