After a long night inside his domain, Leo decided to postpone checking on Liam—it was almost morning already. He hadn't expected to get the chance to place his prayer with two of his chosen candidates, but somehow, the opportunity had presented itself. Both of them had been in situations perfectly suited for it, and he'd managed to act unnoticed.
The real challenge had been placing the prayer without alerting them—and thankfully, his telekinesis had helped more than he expected. His reach had expanded, farther than he had believed possible. For instance, he had managed to slip the prayer into the room next to where Alina was, just while she was distracted and searching. The rest would depend on them now—on their choices, their belief.
Still, before leaving his domain, he made a quick sweep of those closest to him—family and friends—just to confirm they were safe. After everything he had heard in the secret meeting, caution was necessary.
Then came the last check—Elna.
He hesitated. Even now, just thinking about Timon stirred unease deep in his chest. That man was dangerous. But Leo couldn't help it—he needed to know Elna was safe. Steeling himself, he turned to his mirror and focused. Her image slowly shimmered into view.
She was asleep, lying peacefully in a large, richly decorated bed. The room itself was elegant—spacious, adorned like a noble's chamber. Everything about it screamed luxury and status.
But Leo didn't care about any of that. His eyes were fixed solely on her.
She had changed. Her body, partially visible beneath her sleepwear, showed the subtle lines of training—her arms and legs were stronger, more defined than before. The slow rhythm of her breathing rose and fell across her stomach, calm and steady. Her face, though relaxed in sleep, still held the same striking beauty it always had. But now… there was something more mature about her. Something resolute.
Leo lingered, watching in silence. A part of him didn't want to look away. But eventually, he forced himself to break the connection.
He sat still for a while, alone in his domain, trying to quiet the mix of thoughts swirling in his mind.
Finally, he left. Back in the real world, the first light of dawn was creeping over the horizon. The air was crisp. The deck outside was quiet—no one else was around. Leo stepped out, the cool wind brushing gently against his skin.
He stood there in silence, letting the breeze carry away the last remnants of the long night.
…
Liam was kneeling in silent prayer before the altar of the God of Light. From as early as he could remember, this had been part of his daily routine. Morning work in the Paladin Association, grueling training sessions with Steve in the evening, and nightfall prayers in solitude.
He finished his prayer and rose to his feet, ready to leave, when he noticed someone entering the quiet hall—George, one of his elder brothers.
Liam gave a respectful bow. "Brother."
George smirked, his expression tinged with the familiar condescension Liam had long grown used to. "Ready for your tournament?" he asked, mockery unmistakable in his tone.
Aside from Steve, none of his family had ever taken him seriously. Their ridicule had become a constant, dull ache he had learned to ignore—or at least pretend to.
"Yes," Liam answered plainly.
"Good," George said, walking toward him slowly. "Do you know why this tournament is so famous?"
Liam shook his head, wary of the sudden interest.
George leaned in, lowering his voice with an exaggerated air of secrecy. "This is something you shouldn't tell anyone," he whispered near Liam's ear, his grin widening. "It's where noble families send their trash."
Liam's eyes widened in disbelief.
George's expression didn't falter. "Thought I'd share that with you to ease your nerves. You don't have to worry about losing—no one expects anything from you." He laughed as he turned and walked away, leaving Liam alone in the silent hall.
Liam's hands clenched into fists at his sides. Until that moment, he had believed his father had given him a chance—an opportunity to prove his worth. But now he understood. Now he knew why Steve had pushed him so hard, why the anger in his mentor's eyes was mixed with desperation. It was never a test of potential. It was a quiet execution.
All those years of training, all the prayers spoken in faith… none of it had meant anything. Not to his family. Not even, it seemed, to the god he served.
'What was it all for?' The question rang bitterly in his mind. 'Why did I try so hard?'
He stood there in silence, overwhelmed by the weight of betrayal and hopelessness.
And then—thud—a soft sound broke the stillness. A book had fallen from one of the nearby shelves. Liam turned toward it, instinct guiding his steps. He knelt down and picked it up. The cover read The True God—a familiar text on the God of Light. He was about to slide it back into place when a folded piece of paper slipped from between the pages and fluttered to the floor.
Curious, he retrieved it.
The title caught his eye instantly—bold, sharp letters across the top: The Creator.
An eternal presence, neither good nor evil, bearer of both light and shadow,
who forged balance from chaos and gave form to the formless.
Beneath the passage was a prayer. It wasn't long, but the words were unlike anything he had seen in the church or any sacred text he had ever studied.
Liam stared at the paper. His eyes were no longer filled with fear—they burned with anger. Bitterness. A quiet rage against everything his life had become.
Maybe this being is just another lie, he thought. Maybe it's a demon in disguise. Maybe it'll destroy everything when I speak the words.
But part of him didn't care. If the world was going to cast him aside, he would return the favor. If he was destined to fall, he would make sure others fell with him.
With slow, deliberate hands, Liam folded the paper and slipped it into his pocket.
He said nothing. But in that moment, something inside him changed.
…
That night, Leo managed to give his prayer to Liam. For the rest of the week, he devoted his time to strengthening his connection with his domain, pushing himself relentlessly to deepen the bond and refine his control. He had reached the point where he could remain present in his domain and the real world simultaneously for extended periods without losing focus.
But there was still much to accomplish. One priority was understanding the strange, intricate spell Alexia had used in that hidden room. If he could decipher it, he might be able to create a true clone within his domain.
He also hadn't properly trained with his new Blood Slash. Though he'd practiced it a few times, it still had a long way to go before it could be considered reliable in a real battle.
Tonight, once again, was the night of the secret meeting. And Leo couldn't shake the worry that Arthur's identity was on the verge of being exposed. He'd already prepared several contingency plans, but he doubted any of them would be enough if someone like Mr. Sage decided to act.
As a precaution, he retreated to his room. After making certain no one was nearby to interrupt him, he sat on the floor and worked to steady his breathing. He let each exhale empty his mind, driving away stray thoughts and fear. When his focus felt clear and anchored, he began the chant.
"Goddess of the Moon, you are the eternal sentinel of the night.
The one who weaves silver dreams across the darkened skies,
Who watches over the sleeping world—
Your light, a silent promise in the vastness of the heavens.
Moonlit Lady, calm and clear,
You who see all, yet speak no fear—
Carry our hopes across the night,
And guard the dreams we dare to hold.
We offer silence, and you return light.
I call to you, Lilith."
His eyes remained closed, and after a moment, he felt the familiar tug at the edge of his perception. When he opened them, he was once again in the dark expanse, before the massive throne carved from shadow itself. From the seat, two luminous blue eyes regarded him in patient stillness.
"You called to me sooner than I expected," Lilith's voice echoed, low and melodic.
Leo allowed himself a small smile. "I may need your help with something soon."
…
Arthur knew that sooner or later, his identity would be exposed. He hadn't done much to hide it. If, during one of these secret meetings, they discovered who he really was, Mr. Sage would understand immediately that Arthur was there to spy on him—and would not hesitate to get rid of him.
He took a small ring from his pocket and studied it in his palm. This ring was his only way to escape if that moment came. It was a legendary artifact capable of disrupting all magic in its surroundings before teleporting the wearer to any place they wished. But the cost was steep. it required an enormous amount of mana, and afterward, the owner would lose half their mana capacity for a full week. Those drawbacks made it a measure of absolute last resort.
It was already nighttime, so Arthur left the rest of his responsibilities in Laid's hands and retreated to his room. He slipped the ring onto his finger and lay back on the bed, waiting for the meeting to begin.
After a few minutes, he felt the familiar pull, and when he opened his eyes, he was sitting in Mr. Sage's domain, on his cold stone chair.
Once everyone had gathered, Mr. Sage announced the start of the meeting.
For a moment, no one moved. Then Mr. Immortal slowly lifted his gloved hand, palm raised toward Mr. Sage.
"With your permission," he said evenly, "I would like to address a matter of identity."
The chamber seemed to tighten, shadows pressing closer around the table. Mr. Immortal shifted his gaze to Arthur.
"Mr. Light," he began, his tone deceptively polite, "I have a question for you. Are you, in fact, the captain of the Red Rose?"
Arthur returned his stare in silence.
Mr. Immortal let the question hang for a heartbeat longer, then exhaled a soft laugh.
"You aren't, of course." He turned to the others, his voice gaining a deliberate, practiced clarity. "Allow me to explain. I've spent weeks reviewing every scrap of record and report about the so-called Red Rose. The captain is a woman and you are not."
He rested his hands lightly on the stack of parchment before him.
"More importantly, there are only three pirate crews known to be strong enough to subdue the creature you described to us in the last meeting. One is dead. The other two—well."
He lifted the top page and flicked it across the table. It drifted to a stop near Arthur. A sketched insignia, lots of sword around a skull.
"That is the mark of the Avalon Pirates—whose captain was last seen in precisely the waters you claimed to cross."
Arthur's expression didn't change.
"Why has my identity become so important to you, Mr. Immortal?"
Mr. Immortal's smile widened fractionally. "Let's call it self-protection. You see, this gathering is not sanctioned by any of the three nations. We all know the punishment for conspiring here. And so—" He gestured toward Mr. Sage. "I was entrusted by our host to ensure no infiltrators threatened the integrity of our work."
Around the table, the other cloaked figures stirred uneasily.
"And I must say," Mr. Immortal continued, voice softening to a near-whisper, "for a man with such a heritage, you did very little to conceal yourself."
He picked up another sheet—this one bearing the stylized seal of the Church.
"This," he said, laying it carefully beside the first, "is an authenticated record of Arthur Caelum, son of the Pope. It lists his most recent mission—'To locate and report on any unsanctioned gatherings which might disrupt the balance in this world.'"
He met Arthur's eyes.
"So—will you reveal the truth yourself, or shall I say it plainly?"
Arthur remained motionless.
"You are Arthur Caelum," Mr. Immortal concluded softly, satisfaction curling around every syllable. "The pope's son. The champion of light, come here to investigate this meeting."
At that moment, a dark power began to seep out of Mr. Sage, rolling over the floor like an approaching tide. Everyone else remained frozen in their seats, watching the scene unfold.
Arthur poured mana into the ring. A ripple of force erupted from it—but nothing happened.
"Arthur Caelum, champion of light," Mr. Sage intoned. His voice was ethereal, echoing from every corner of the vast darkness. "You will not leave this place until you have answered my questions. After that—I will decide your fate."
As the darkness crept closer to Arthur, a sudden laughter broke the silence. The shadows halted, and all eyes turned toward the source of the sound—even Mr. Sage's.
It was Mr. Clone.
"You've done a fine job playing the obedient dog, Mr. Immortal," he said lightly, ignoring Mr. Immortal's furious glare. Then he looked at Mr. Sage, smiling beneath his hood.
He rose from his chair. "It seems, even with all your power, you still cannot completely perceive this side of the land of darkness, Mr. Sage."
The others stared in disbelief. Under their hoods, their eyes were wide. Even Arthur were frozen.
Mr. Clone raised a hand to his hood and slowly pushed it back. Beneath it was nothing but a shifting mass of white fog with two pale eyes gleaming within.
"Unfortunately," he said calmly, "I cannot allow you to have him."