"Now… you can tell me."
"My plan."
The two of them walked side by side through the silent night. Hiltina broke the silence first.
"You've probably guessed it already," Rast said calmly.
"The one descending at dusk… yes, it's undeniably a god of evil. But at this moment, what exists in Deep Blue Port is not the full form of that ancient deity."
"Only a fragment of divinity, a broken remnant of its will."
"Or perhaps… it's just a stray trace of its presence, left behind by chance."
Hiltina's eyes lingered on him, thoughtful.
That was exactly her suspicion. If a fully intact god truly stood in Deep Blue Port right now, everything they were doing would be meaningless.
At their current sequence levels, facing a god in full strength would be like ants confronting a dragon—a gap that no amount of experience, skill, or trial and error could bridge.
Even if they tried tens of thousands of times… even hundreds of thousands or millions… the outcome would not change.
"From fragments of the Night World's history explored in the waking world, traces of gods stretch across almost all of human civilization," Rast continued softly.
"But aside from rare periods when gods walked the earth, the majority of the time—whether good or evil—they are severely limited in their interference with the mortal world."
Hiltina considered his words carefully.
"Scholars in the capital studying the Night World's history speculate that perhaps these gods exist in a different dimension, separated from the mortal plane by barriers that are nearly impossible to breach."
"Only through specific methods—ritual sacrifices, preaching, or the faith of mortals—can their power manifest in the mortal world, even if only briefly."
"Exactly."
Rast's voice lowered. "Everything happening in Deep Blue Port works the same way."
"An ordinary fisherman once went out to sea. On a routine catch, he accidentally retrieved an ancient sculpture."
"The sculpture was strange—it could grant its owner many wishes. Cure illnesses, bring luck, prolong life, maintain youth… it was nearly omnipotent."
"With the sculpture's powers, the fisherman changed his life. He even helped countless ordinary people suffering from disease. Those he helped were grateful, becoming his companions willingly."
"Compared to the miracles it offered, the cost of the sculpture was negligible."
"The rest… you can probably guess."
Hiltina nodded.
She was not unfamiliar with this kind of tale. In both the waking world and the Night World, she had heard it countless times.
Hidden cults and secret organizations often started like this—a fortunate individual accidentally obtained an object tainted with divine essence… and gradually, step by step, was seduced and corrupted.
Until, finally, they fell into the abyss, opening the gates through which an evil god could descend.
"If that sculpture had belonged to a god of light, the fisherman might have become a revered founder of some future church, remembered by generations as a divine prophet," Hiltina whispered.
The beginnings of such stories were often the same—but the endings could be entirely different.
"Even now," she continued, "many members of that cult still believe they are using the sculpture's power to save their decayed city, their crumbling kingdom. The price it demands… they justify as a necessary sacrifice for changing the world."
"Unfortunately, there are no 'ifs' in this world," Rast said flatly.
They walked in silence.
"We've arrived."
Rast's steps slowed as he gazed at the vague outlines of buildings in the darkness.
"This is one of the underground cult's strongholds," he said.
"And also… where that sculpture, tainted by the evil god, resides right now."
17 Loning Street was a sprawling estate, set apart from surrounding buildings with its own courtyard.
As Rast and Hiltina approached, two figures in similar black robes standing at the gate immediately tensed.
"P…—"
"Red oak tree in Central Park—"
Before either guard could finish speaking the password, Rast interjected.
"Lori, Davi, our East Street outpost is being watched by the patrol bureau. I need to report to the leader immediately."
Hearing the correct code and their own names, the guards visibly relaxed—but one still stepped forward, face serious.
"Stop—our leader said he sees no one today—"
Thuk—
The sound of a dagger piercing flesh cut through the air.
"You…"
Thuk—
Before the second guard could react, another blade struck.
Both bodies collapsed silently, but Rast caught them midair.
"Lend me a hand."
He hoisted one body, carrying it into the estate and hiding it in a shadowed corner.
Hiltina did not question him—she picked up the second body and followed.
The outer courtyard was pitch-black and eerily silent. Yet the central mansion glowed with light, shadows of people flickering behind the windows.
"From now on, you're Lori. I'm Davi," Rast said, arranging the bodies.
"The interior is too well-lit to hide faces. You can't disguise your voice like in the darkness. So you'll wait outside until the drugs I put in the ventilation and food take effect."
Hiltina glanced at Rast as he weighed two packets of powder in his hand.
"How long will that take?" she asked.
"Three, maybe four hours. The cultists inside are mostly young and strong, and many have been corrupted by the sculpture's essence—partially resistant to the sedatives. Deep Blue Port's law enforcement is decent on the surface; even the black market doesn't have strong poisons I could improvise at midnight."
Rast shrugged.
"This loop was supposed to be a 'host simulator' for fun. Meeting you at the hotel, deciding to clear Deep Blue Port… all coincidence. These two packets are the strongest sedatives I could get quickly."
Hiltina paused, considering.
"We might not even need to go to such lengths…" she murmured.
"There's a simpler, less strenuous way."