Day Two of the Lunar Rite dawned silent.

  The terrifying Hell-Dragons, the three-headed Fallen Angels huffing sulfur, the hordes of Ghouls—none of them appeared.

  The path of the Lunar Rite had been stripped of its danger, leaving only the tedious, gray-white geology of the moon exposed naked under the eternal black sky.

  Vivian felt a suffocating panic.

  Is it because the "Pearl Man" escaped yesterday? Has the Lord withdrawn His test?

  Without the roar of monsters, without the flames of demons, is this still the Road to Glory?

  It feels like... a boring geology field trip.

  She glanced at the other two Fire Keepers.

  The First Sanctum’s elephant trudged listlessly. Isabella, draped across her Flower Barge, looked wilted; her datura refused to bloom without a challenge.

  Vivian gathered the hem of her Holy Robe and rushed to her God.

  Lord Leo was leaning against a cold rock, his posture so languid yet so arrogant, as if all the stars in the universe were not worth his trouble.

  "Lord Leo..." Vivian's voice trembled with the desire for penance. "Why has the test stopped? Is our piety insufficient to ignite the Holy Fire? Do even the False Gods disdain us?"

  Lord Leo didn't even look up from the dirt. "The ratings tanked. Everyone went to watch the Great Manhunt. Let's save some energy."

  Vivian froze.

  She chewed over the profound meaning behind this Oracle.

  Ratings? Manhunt? Performance?

  Suddenly, a lightning bolt of understanding cut through her mind.

  I understand! Our miracles are too humble; God disdains to watch. He has withdrawn all "Light and Shadow," leaving only the purest, cruelest "Blankness."

  This is Supreme Arrogance. It is the harshest interrogation of the believer: When the vessel is ignored by the divine, does it still have the will to move forward?

  "Praise the Lord's profound silence..." Vivian’s eyes filled with tears, her limbs trembling with enlightenment. "In this cruel Blankness, the only redemption is Endurance."

  Since God has decreed the Void, to walk is to blaspheme.

  Vivian turned and ran to the other two Fire Keepers to convey the Supreme Will: Halt!

  Miranda and Isabella frowned, but in the end—perhaps out of sheer boredom—they agreed.

  Thus, a sacred decision was born.

  The three Fire Keepers built a makeshift altar. They would cultivate right there, refusing to move until the False Gods deemed them worthy of blood and fire once more.

  When Vivian informed Lord Leo of this decision, she saw her Guardian freeze.

  Oh, what majesty!

  He had foreseen it all!

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  ...

  Inside the temporary main altar, incense smoke curled lazily.

  Since the Halt, they had been praying together.

  But the prayers soon devolved into gossip about the terrifying False God—the Pearl Man, Dante.

  "He is very pure," Miranda murmured, stroking her own bio-luminescent jawline, her eyes flickering with blasphemous admiration. "He doesn't even need skin. In comparison, my dermis requires constant replacement."

  "He is a dead thing!" Isabella curled her lip, the datura in her dimples writhing like small snakes. "Life should merge. Life should comfort. But that Pearl Man... he is so lonely he has no species. I heard his kind always self-destructs."

  Vivian pressed the burning Holy Emblem against her chest, grounding herself in the Holy Fire.

  "He... he is an absolute heretic," Vivian whispered. "Only vessels like us... vessels that endure the burning... are sacred."

  "Ha!" Miranda laughed. "Vessel? Sister, do you mean a meat flask that bleeds on a schedule and shatters in less than a century?"

  Isabella turned her head, eyes pitying. "Even as soil, you are too barren, Vivian. Admit it. Without merging with other life, your singular 'Pain' is worthless. It is just God's refuse."

  Shame rushed from Vivian's feet to her scalp like magma. But her clumsy tongue couldn't find the words to refute her sisters' terrible heresies.

  She couldn't unleash the Holy Fire again. Lord Leo had forbidden friendly fire.

  She could only lift her head and look at Lord Leo in the corner with wet, pleading eyes.

  Her God was tossing a magical artifact labeled 'Sonic Screwdriver. Flip, catch. Flip, catch. It was the posture of a Creator toying with the axis of the world.

  "Lord Leo..." Vivian's voice cracked. "Please tell them. Why do we need pain? Why can't we become cold iron blocks, or wild weeds?"

  Lord Leo stopped the screwdriver mid-air.

  He lifted his eyelids. His gaze swept over the three women. There was no anger, no love. Only the fatigue of a man who has seen through a thousand years of stupidity.

  He flicked the screwdriver again.

  Vivian rushed over and grabbed his sleeve. He had to give Divine Revelation.

  "About three hundred and fifty years ago," Lord Leo began, his voice low, using mortal vocabulary that Vivian strained to translate. "An angel called 'AI' took over the continent of Gaia..."

  Miranda and Isabella exchanged glances, then looked at Lord Leo.

  "The AI gave Gaians everything they wanted. Food. Clothes. Health. Endless dopamine. They didn't have to do anything. Just wish, and the Algorithm provided."

  Miranda frowned. Isabella’s mouth parted slightly. Vivian covered hers in shock.

  That... sounds like Paradise.

  "But the sages of your Silver Ring believed this would make humans degenerate into the Livestock of False Gods," Leo flipped the screwdriver high into the air and snatched it back, as if catching a falling planet.

  "So, they launched a Holy War called 'The Transmission of Fire'... They used death, blood, and catastrophe to test everyone. To make them find the nobility and wisdom of being 'Human' through severe pain and terror."

  The three Fire Keepers looked at each other. This was not the scripture they knew.

  In the doctrine, the False Gods of the Golden Ring attacked first. The Silver Ring merely resisted.

  Lord Leo stood up, looking down at them, his tone flat to the point of cruelty.

  "But the Silver Ring failed. Some fled to the Dark Moon. So, we have the Lunar Rite. A ritual to make you remember history, to stop you from sliding back into the old path of 'comfort and safety.' Absurd, isn't it? Fine. I won't judge right or wrong. But for me, there is only one rule: Each has their own Way. Just don't force others to walk it."

  His gaze landed on Vivian.

  What a glance!

  In that instant, Vivian felt the Holy Fire almost gush from her eyes.

  His theological attainments are truly profound.

  "As for the meaning of pain... the direction of the future..." Lord Leo’s voice carried a sigh. "That is probably the only offering our generation can present: Trial and Error. Do what you believe in. It doesn't matter if you're wrong, because the struggle itself is the practice. It's the contribution. Right?"

  Deathly silence filled the tent.

  Miranda and Isabella looked grave. They had never heard this sealed secret history. Words like "AI Angels" and "Algorithm" lashed their arrogant souls like red-hot whips.

  And Vivian... she didn't understand half of it. Terms like "cortisol," "chemical weapons," and "no-man's-land" were just noise.

  But in her ears, Lord Leo’s words automatically reassembled into a Supreme Gospel:

  God says: Pain is the Crown of Wisdom!

  Those heretics who seek comfort are fit only to be livestock! And we, the children of the Silver Ring, are the bloody wounds God kept open to keep the world awake and noble!

  An unprecedented pride filled her chest, making the burn of the Holy Fire precious.

  Vivian straightened her back. The corner of her mouth hooked into a smile that was both compassionate and fanatical. She turned to her sisters, who were eroded by heretical thoughts, and issued the Divine Verdict.

  "Did you hear that?" She spoke for the Supreme One.

  "Lord Leo has spoken. You are wrong. Because you forgot the one truth: Pain is the only proof that we are alive."