Lilia’s Home.

  Lilia hummed a little tune in her throat, wearing a relaxed house dress as she watered the flowerbed.

  She truly couldn’t stand her father Vernon Doran’s endless sighing inside the house, so she slipped out to breathe some fresh air.

  —Because those who died in the Rostrum Massacre were almost all from the elite and upper classes, the fallout included defaults, collapsed financial products, and the shockwave slammed into the financial industry first.

  They said that in Wynchester, insurance managers and bankers had already jumped from buildings. Of course, there were also those who grew filthy rich amid the chaos—scavenging the scraps left by the apex predators perched atop the pyramid, completing their primitive accumulation of capital.

  As for the Doran family, Vernon—an executive manager at the bank—had been working overtime without end. Even at home, he was still working. His beer belly had visibly deflated, and his hairline had begun a steady retreat.

  Compared to the storm in the occult world, this little real-world turbulence doesn’t even count…

  Lilia was lost in thought when her expression suddenly changed. She clutched her forehead, pain twisting her features.

  This was the lingering backlash of the Truth Balance. To outsiders, it looked like Miss Doran had developed migraines.

  No Beyond Mortality standing, yet trying to wield Beyond Mortality combat power—of course it comes with a price. But… why is Roberts’s Arcane Insect Box’s drawback so absurdly small?

  Lilia braced herself against the railing, murmuring under her breath:

  The Greenforest Earl did not invent “Witch’s Broth Spaghetti”… the secret governor of the Fabri Dynasty was…

  The Truth Balance’s negative effect required vast arcane Chronicles knowledge to ease.

  The portions concerning the Greenforest Earl’s true history were a gift from the Divine Messenger—knowledge he had taught through letters.

  The rest was Lilia’s own accumulation.

  “Madam, you seem to need assistance?!”

  A somewhat familiar voice rose from nearby.

  Lilia saw a figure emerge from the shadows. He wore a double-breasted high-collared frock coat, a half-high silk top hat, and carried a white-crystal cane.

  He felt familiar—yet Lilia still raised her guard.

  From the soil, from the green leaves and blossoms—one black insect after another crawled out, radiating danger as they surrounded the unfamiliar young man.

  “Lady White Dove, don’t be hostile. I’m Rapier—this isn’t my true face.” Javon smiled faintly, his voice low.

  “Mr. Rapier?”

  Lilia’s expression softened. She recalled the black insects, though one hand still pressed her forehead.

  “It seems you’ve run into trouble. I might be able to help suppress it for the moment.”

  Javon’s smile deepened. In his eyes, two strange sigils surfaced—symbols of knowledge and wisdom. Books were thoughts made solid, and a Sage could turn intangible thought into tangible substance, infusing it into another to balance pollution.

  A Sage was a pure Tower path—its fourth Sephiroth.

  “The spiritual pollution on you mainly comes from the Truth Balance’s drawback. It resembles a kind of craving for knowledge, a frenzy for history. To counter it, you need—rational realism, and inertia.”

  Javon reached into The Flesh-Eater’s Pack and drew out a book. It wasn’t an esoteric transmission, merely a philosopher’s work from a century ago. Then he grasped with his right hand as if snatching invisible knowledge out of the text, shaping it into a phantom, twisted sigil.

  “If you trust me, you can try it.” He smiled and offered the sigil to Lilia.

  Lilia nodded, crushed the sigil, and the invisible ideas poured into her mind—dampening her feverish hunger for historical truth.

  The tremor at the corner of her mouth eased. The pain loosened its grip.

  She lifted her skirt and curtsied. “Thank you for your help, Mr. Rapier.”

  “Just call me Javon.” Javon waved it off casually, but his expression turned more solemn. The balancing treatment had revealed more problems.

  “The Essence in you seems to be accumulating too quickly. You’ve reached the limit of a Medium—you can advance to a Near-Death One.”

  Fast accumulation on one hand, and the backlash of a high-grade item on the other—no wonder it had escalated beyond expectations.

  “Mr. Rapier… you…” Lilia’s voice carried awe. “You advanced even faster?”

  A low-tier Transcendent could never see that much.

  “Yes. I’ve opened the fourth Sephiroth and become Beyond Mortality.” Javon nodded. “All of it is our Lord’s favor.”

  “Beyond Mortality…”

  Lilia stared at him, briefly hollow. “Too fast… It feels like it’s been less than half a year since last time. Why does it feel as though more than ten years have passed?”

  In the occult world, opening the fourth Sephiroth before thirty was already shocking beyond belief.

  And someone like that was better described as blessed than gifted.

  In the occult system, the more “talented” you were, the faster you tended to die.

  “Our organization is very good at cultivating newcomers. Your current balance is only barely holding—and it’s unstable. The best solution is to pray to our Lord later and ask for His purification.”

  Javon spoke with utter gravity.

  “I try to pray every day…”

  Lilia’s mood sank at once. “But aside from the very first time… our Lord hasn’t responded.”

  I’m fixing that. Once the signal tower exists, direct blessings should be possible—no need for me to travel here in person to purify you.

  Javon grumbled inwardly, then pointed at the house behind her.

  “You won’t invite me in?”

  “Of course. Please.”

  Lilia performed a proper lady’s courtesy. “I’ll introduce you as a friend… The maids were chosen by my father and me. They won’t casually leak their employer’s information.”

  She understood: if Javon had returned from his travels, it must be for something important.

  They entered. Lilia had just sent a maid off to prepare tea and pastries when Javon saw a middle-aged gentleman approach—linen-colored hair, a slight beer belly.

  “Lilia—who is this?”

  Vernon Doran.

  Lilia hurried to explain. “This is my good friend, um… from that association.”

  “That association?”

  Vernon’s expression grew shadowed. He shook Javon’s hand, fingers stiff.

  “First meeting—please forgive me for arriving without a gift.” Javon’s tone was gentle as he sized Vernon up.

  “No matter. Please make yourself comfortable.”

  The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

  Facing the powerful organization his daughter had mentioned, Vernon was almost overly humble—something like fear threaded through his politeness.

  A short while later.

  On the Doran family balcony, Javon and Lilia sat opposite each other. Afternoon tea was laid out on a small round table between them.

  Alongside red tea from South Innis, three tiers of delicate plates held an array of small pastries and cakes.

  Lilia sipped her tea. Watching the maid withdraw—and her father sitting rigidly on the living-room sofa, tense and watching this direction—she offered an apologetic smile.

  “My father loves me. He worries I’ve been coerced or deceived by some evil organization. Of course… I know the Unseen Order is a great and righteous organization.”

  “Cough. I understand.”

  Javon lifted his tea cup, quietly masking his awkwardness.

  The Unseen Order was what it was. Calling it a con organization… wasn’t entirely wrong.

  “And… thank you to your stewardess, Ms. Sylvia, for managing the museum for me.”

  Lilia rose to thank him and spoke at length about Sylvia and the museum’s recent situation.

  Javon listened with a polite smile.

  When she finished, he paused a beat, then spoke in a lower voice.

  “How much do you know about the Rostrum Massacre in Wynchester?”

  “I’ve heard it was a cult leader trying to push open the Gate of Immortality, controlling many people in the kingdom’s upper circles—especially the Pontiff of the Holy Spirit Church—and then launching the attack during the speech… The losses were catastrophic.”

  Lilia recalled the rumors circulating among Transcendents. Then she suddenly covered her mouth, her delicate spectacles trembling.

  “Javon… this doesn’t have anything to do with the Unseen Order, does it?”

  So the rumors are still incomplete…

  Javon noted silently, his expression grave. “It does. The Unseen Order was involved. The cult leader’s advancement ultimately failed. And I used the opportunity to open the fourth Sephiroth.”

  The key part was the second sentence, but Lilia clearly clung harder to the first.

  “So that evil false god was punished… and our organization did it. This is righteous judgment!”

  You’re thinking too simply.

  Javon gave a broad overview, emphasizing the descent of The Twelve Velthyr.

  “So I came to warn you—do not expose your identity as an Unseen Order member. If you do, something truly dreadful may happen.”

  “I’m preparing for a long journey soon. I might board an ocean-going ferry and cross the Dark Sea to South Innis—call it a post-advancement holiday. Do you want to come?”

  “I’d rather not…” Lilia shook her head after a moment, her cheeks flushing as she lowered her gaze. “If I vanished suddenly, it would be troublesome…”

  Javon had only asked in passing.

  He smiled. “I respect your choice. I came, besides warning you to conceal your identity, chiefly under Ryan’s commission—to bring you certain occult knowledge. It concerns your future path.”

  It was something Javon had been considering for some time.

  A vivid, bright young woman becoming a Malevolent Spirit through a death ritual—that would be a pity.

  “About my… path? The Divine Messenger still remembers me.”

  Lilia looked deeply moved.

  “The Unseen Order holds a complete set of knowledge leading all the way to a Malevolent Spirit, but Ryan does not recommend you choose it.”

  “To advance from a Near-Death One to a Malevolent Spirit, your body must die first. The ritual is dangerous; one mistake and you’re simply dead. And a Malevolent Spirit isn’t an ideal choice either—humanity erodes, and sanity becomes difficult to maintain.”

  Javon continued evenly.

  “Ryan’s view is that you can attempt a compatible dual-path. Some Tower-school theories are riddled with fatal errors—for instance, balancing Forged Light and Umbral is a dead end.”

  “But balancing Sanguis and Mortis—using vitality to counter stillness and death—is a sound construct.”

  Lilia had never touched knowledge at this level. Javon had to explain the balance concept further. Her eyes brightened at once.

  “There’s such a path… so by balancing pollution against pollution, you don’t have to fear losing control?”

  “No.”

  Javon answered without softness.

  “After my treatment, you are in balance—but the moment you begin accumulating Essence again, madness returns. Even if you do nothing, time itself will break the balance.”

  He adopted a deliberately devout tone.

  “This is the greatness of our Lord’s radiance. Madness only accumulates—yet our Lord’s radiance can purify all filth.”

  “Praise our Lord!”

  Lilia’s face filled with reverence. She followed Javon through a brief prayer.

  “Now, back to your path.”

  “Ryan brought several handwritten occult manuscripts—all about balancing Sanguis and Mortis.”

  “Advancing to a Near-Death One won’t be difficult for you. But before you open the fourth Sephiroth, it’s best to secure one Beyond Mortality remnant of Sanguis and one of Mortis as your primary materials—so you can pivot your path in a single strike.”

  “The basic approach is to use your own body as a phylactery.”

  Javon’s tone turned solemn.

  “A phylactery of resentment… built into the body?”

  Lilia murmured. She knew some of a Malevolent Spirit’s weaknesses.

  “Yes. And you’ll sustain the body’s vitality with Sanguis Essence. That way, you become a special kind of Malevolent Spirit—a Malevolent Spirit with a perfect body. It helps preserve reason against erosion.”

  It was a route Javon had devised recently, with Tower-boosted thinking.

  As Omniforge—and the system’s originator—his understanding far exceeded other Transcendents. He could even glimpse the long-term potential of each path.

  No matter how lethal the Forged Light–Umbral “balance” trap was, Sanguis–Mortis balance had real promise.

  In Javon’s view, it could reach World-Sanctioned Immortal without issue, and might even approach an Obscured Existence—if the system could be completed.

  The direction was correct. The rituals and requirements for each Sephiroth opening still needed to be explored.

  The future was bright.

  The road remained crooked.

  “The fourth and seventh Sephiroth are both critical…”

  Javon sipped his tea, sounding almost wistful.

  “Before becoming Beyond Mortality, switching paths is not too hard. But if you insist on becoming an orthodox Malevolent Spirit, then before opening the seventh Sephiroth, you should seize and devour the Sanguis essential aspect of a powerful Transcendent—only then can you step onto a new road.”

  “Why?” Lilia’s small face showed confusion.

  “Opening the Gate of Immortality is dangerous, and it requires choosing your corresponding Velthyr with extreme care. A path’s Velthyr controls their path far more than you imagine.”

  Javon’s meaning sharpened.

  “If you don’t want to be controlled the moment you become a World-Sanctioned Immortal, prepare in advance. Because advancing to a World-Sanctioned Immortal is, in truth, the act of stealing the Velthyr’s authority.”

  “These are top-tier secrets. I only obtained them after becoming Beyond Mortality. Keep them secret.”

  “I understand.” Lilia nodded, then managed a bitter smile. “I’m not even Beyond Mortality yet. Thinking about a World-Sanctioned Immortal is too distant.”

  “Have more faith in yourself.”

  Javon smiled. “After all, the Unseen Order’s creed is to help every core member climb the Sephiroth.”

  He had a premonition: there would be very few Transcendents who could slip free of The Twelve Velthyr’s control.

  Future World-Sanctioned Immortals—many of them—would likely be bound to the Velthyr and Obscured Existences of their paths.

  A free World-Sanctioned Immortal would be exceedingly rare.

  Perhaps this is the shape of mortal conflict to come…

  A subtle tremor brushed Javon’s intuition. He turned his head toward the living room.

  Vernon Doran’s expression shifted as he stared into empty space.

  The room darkened.

  From a swirl of iridescence, an owl with brown feathers flew out, a letter clamped in its beak.

  “That’s my father’s messenger from the Ethereal Realm—its name is Hydel.”

  Lilia smiled as she explained.

  For pure Veil Transcendents, even at low stages they could bring their bodies into the Ethereal Realm for exploration. Their range was broader, and it was easier for them to form contracts with Ethereal Realm creatures.

  “I’ve always wanted a similar messenger, but Hydel’s kind only likes pure Veil Transcendents.”

  Lilia sounded a little regretful.

  “There are many other Ethereal Realm species suitable for contracts. Once you open the fourth Sephiroth, you’ll have your chances.”

  Javon offered a gentle reassurance.

  “Ethereal Realm species are many, but most are extremely dangerous. Creatures that are friendly to humans and keep their oaths are rare. Hydel’s line has been tested by long history—during the Fabri era, it was a favored communication tool among the purple-eyed nobility.”

  Lilia watched her father break the wax seal and draw out the paper. His face changed sharply.

  She rose at once. “Excuse me. My father seems to have received bad news.”

  “Please.”

  Javon picked up a small cake from the tiered tray.

  He wasn’t trying to eavesdrop, but Beyond Mortality senses made it effortless to catch the father–daughter exchange, even in lowered voices.

  The look in Javon’s eyes cooled.

  Not long after, Lilia returned with urgent panic on her face.

  “Mr. Javon… I’m sorry. We may have to move.”

  “So suddenly?”

  “The Green Banyan Council sent a confidential letter. One of their critical safe sites was hit by The Blood of Decay—almost wiped out.”

  Lilia’s face was pale. “Those filthy blood zealots have grown more frenzied. And from the documents and correspondence at that site, they may infer the residences of many family members. A lot of people will have to relocate.”

  There were rumors that the “Greenforest Earl” had returned, but Lilia—who knew the truth—understood that her ancestor was still “asleep,” and in poor condition.

  And perhaps he would not act for the family at all.

  After all, everyone knew: that Earl had left no direct bloodline…

  “The Blood of Decay… they’re targeting us.”

  Purple-eyed Javon Yuggs had every right to say so.

  He sighed. “In Wynchester, I met another Sothos descendant—likely from Shaya’s branch. Everyone in that line is dead except him.”

  “His name is… William. William Charle.”

  “Shaya’s line?”

  Lilia pushed her glasses up with an angry motion. “They’ve gone too far.”

  “As descendants of a great house, we should help each other.”

  Javon smiled. “If there’s anything you need, just say so.”

  “Thank you.”

  Lilia’s gratitude was immediate and sincere.

  …

  Next, Javon witnessed the Doran family’s efficiency.

  In a single afternoon, they completed a chain of actions—dismissing servants, resigning their posts, listing the house for sale, and more.

  By nightfall, Lilia and her father Vernon were seated in a hired carriage, bound for the station.

  They would take the night train to the harbor city—Southhaven.

  Southhaven was one of Inves’s most vital ports, with passenger liners and cargo ships arriving daily from the New Continent.

  On the surface, Vernon and Lilia would even reserve tickets for an ocean-going liner, ostensibly preparing to sail for the New Continent.

  But in truth…

  As a colony, South Innis drew mostly government employees, soldiers, criminals, ruined bankrupts, and desperate peasants gambling on survival.

  So Vernon looked down on the barren colony. He planned to jump the train midway, then reroute out of the country—toward Tessago or Romani.

  Javon had to acknowledge it: Vernon knew how to run, and he even understood how to plant false trails to mislead pursuers.

  Verdant City Steam Rail Platform.

  Only after passing the ticket gate and entering the carriage did Vernon finally let out a breath.

  Beside him, Lilia wore a heavy black veil hat that hid most of her face. She stared out the window, her expression distant.

  “Father… are we really leaving the city we’ve lived in all this time?”

  A powerful sense of unreality flooded her. “Actually… I’m strong. I have Beyond Mortality combat power. I can protect our family now.”

  “No.”

  In Vernon’s eyes, Lilia would always be the little girl who needed protecting.

  Faced with the madmen of The Blood of Decay, he wanted only a quiet life.

  Javon said nothing. He simply watched the train roll out of the platform.

  A new life had begun…