Hiltina lived up to her name, Chariot.
Though her frame was slender and her weapon a delicate rapier, she moved like a celestial war chariot of legend, crushing everything in her path as if it were nothing more than dust.
"Damn traitors!"
"What promises did Talis make to you that you'd betray your faith in the master?"
A roar split the air.
Some of the cultists inside the mansion, driven by desperation and adrenaline, shook off the lingering effects of the Lantern Bearer's mental suppression. They raised their firearms and opened fire. Even the simplest lever-action shotguns, when hitting flesh, could leave irreparable damage.
Ding—
A flash of silver, gone in an instant. Two shards of yellowed bullets clinked against the floor, cut edges gleaming like new.
The shooter's eyes widened in shock. He opened his mouth, but before a sound could escape, a crystal-like rapier pierced his throat.
By the time the silvery wind of steel subsided, all thirty-six cultists, including the Vice-Pontiff, lay dead. Blood gushed from holes in their chests and throats.
Some, though pierced through heart and throat, twisted unnaturally as they fell. Yet Hiltina delivered the final strikes without hesitation—heads shattered, tendons severed, limbs cut. Even the cursed vitality of those corrupted by the sculpture's influence could no longer sustain movement.
Once she confirmed that only Rast and she remained alive, Hiltina sheathed her rapier.
The blade shattered silently like crystal, dissolving into thousands of sparkling fragments.
"Attire—'Twinkling Morning Star.'"
"Simply put, emblem attires are the only supernormal equipment allowed into the Night World."
Noticing Rast's gaze, Hiltina explained as the shards of her rapier vanished into light.
"Oh, and," she added, donning her black hooded cloak over the red-and-white armor, concealing it once more, "that thing you said to fool the cultists earlier… was it true?"
"Which part? The bit about Councilor Talis making a fool of himself at the city council?"
Rast followed Hiltina into the mansion, stepping over the carnage in the hall. He pondered. "Since that eighty-percent competent lady councilor whispered it to me… it should be true. She's a colleague, after all."
"Come to think of it, a seventy-something old man occasionally losing control isn't surprising. No wonder he craves that sculpture, with its promise of longevity and eternal youth."
"I'm not asking about that," Hiltina murmured, rubbing her forehead. "I mean—if that councilor knows about the cult and can even order the inspection bureau into action, why haven't we worked with him?"
Rast's expression remained calm, though a faint smile touched his lips.
"I've tried… many times."
He squatted, rifling through a corpse's pocket to retrieve several boxes of handgun bullets.
"Don't think it was just Talis. I've sent telegraphs of complaint to the capital, exposed the inspection chief's scandals to sway the city guard, even kidnapped the mayor's prized mistress to force naval action against cult strongholds. I tried every external route I could imagine… and in the end, it only ever made things worse."
"You saw the corrupted cultists just now," he continued. "At first glance, they seemed human. That's because, although tainted by the sculpture's essence, the corruption was still suppressed. Only death would trigger mutation."
"But—"
Rast paused before a large oil painting deep within the hall.
"What if the corrupted aren't just suppressed, lying in wait…"
"…what if they are actively triggered?"
He slid the painting aside to reveal an unassuming wall clock. Opening its back cover, he reached inside, manipulating the gears.
Tick… tick…
The hands of the clock clicked as they were adjusted.
Hiltina frowned. "This cult's numbers aren't huge—maybe a few hundred at most. Even if all the corrupted were fully activated, in comparison to Deep Blue Port's guard forces, it should still be manageable…"
Her voice faltered. She remembered Rast's earlier words:
It had been months since the tainted sculpture arrived in Deep Blue Port. Though the cult operated in secret, who knew how many it had touched, how far it had traveled—police stations, city hall, hospitals, opera houses, naval posts…
No physical contact, no devout faith required. Even an unknowing glance could plant the seed of corruption.
If they sought official assistance now, once the corruption flared, their supposed allies could instantly become enemies.
A memory surfaced from Hiltina's Night World intelligence records:
Weeks after Deep Blue Port's destruction, a plague originating from the ruined harbor swept across the Eastern Continent.Based on the characteristics of the infected, it became known as—the Iron Cross Plague.
"You said… later generations called it 'Iron Cross,' right?" Hiltina's voice was steady, but the weight of it pressed down on her like a mountain.
What seemed like two trivial lines in history books became a burden on every living soul in that era.
"You were right about one thing," Rast said, moving the clock hands to a precise position. "The course of history isn't something that can be broken easily."
"The fisherman who retrieved the tainted sculpture thought he was the chosen one. But whether he went to sea that day or not… Deep Blue Port's so-called fate was already secretly written."
The clock mechanism clicked as the hands locked into place.
"Still, don't be too pessimistic. You're the only variable to appear in tens of thousands of loops. Your abilities far exceed what I expected, raising my confidence in a one-life success."
Rast retracted his hand from the clock gears. "After all, we aren't truly trying to slay a god—just alter one insignificant detail in a preordained timeline."
"That's probably the first good news I've heard from you since entering the Night World," Hiltina smiled, tucking a chestnut strand behind her ear. "Can I ask—how confident are you in this one-life success now?"
As the clock's gears engaged, the mechanism groaned and clicked. Seconds later, the clock swung aside, revealing a hidden doorway.
"Well…" Rast paused. "Before, it was about one percent."
He glanced at the dark passage, then stepped inside.
"Now, with confirmation of your ability, I'd say… five percent."
"Five times higher than before? Not bad—I guess I do make a difference," Hiltina chuckled, following him into the hidden door.