Amon smiled pleasantly. "I can't say for sure. Just make sure you don't secretly look for a chance to stab me in the back."
Edward almost laughed in disbelief. You're talking about yourself, aren't you? Who could possibly be more insidious than you?
Amon cast a glance toward the Hall of Truth. "When Steph was chasing me just now, we circled around nearly the whole place—except that palace. Let's go take a look. I've actually never been inside the old dragon's palace before."
"You two saw that frost dragon fly into the palace earlier, didn't you?"
Amon shook his head. "Didn't notice."
Steph looked even less informed.
"There's something wrong here. Even after being resurrected, that frost dragon should only be Sequence 4 at best. How could it slip past the two of you and enter the Hall of Truth?"
Was it deliberately leading me here along the way?
What does it want?
And who was it that dragged Amon and Steph into this book? With what goal?
Questions tumbled endlessly through Edward's mind. What he thought would be a carefree stroll—an overpowered boy from the last dungeon moves to a starter town for fun—had suddenly twisted into a tangled mess of uncertainty.
Even thinking with my knees is enough to know—there's something dirty hidden in all this.
By then, Amon had stolen distance to appear before the gray-white palace gates. "Back then, we searched so long for the City of Miracles. Who would've thought the old dragon hid it inside a book? No wonder it was once the Dragon of Imagination—truly impressive."
Steph said nothing, simply following along and striding straight through the massive doors.
Amon turned back toward Edward, who still lingered behind an Illusory Door, and grinned. "Not planning on joining us?"
"After you."
"Heh. Cautious fellow."
Once the two of them entered the palace, Edward flipped a coin to attempt a divination. As expected, it slipped straight from his fingers and fell uselessly—divination had failed.
Whether that was due to the Dragon of Imagination Ankewelt himself, or the pollution sealed within from the Chaos Sea, he couldn't be sure.
Frowning, Edward suddenly thought of something. He reached into his dimensional pouch and pulled out Will Auceptin's origami crane. Quickly, he scribbled a message: "Can you see this? I need to speak with you."
———
Trier, the Intis Royal Palace.
Krismona stepped lightly into the understated yet opulent king's chambers, encountering no obstacles along the way—not because of her exceptional stealth, but because there simply was no one to stop her.
Tonight, the city of Trier was mired in chaos. Beyonder battles had erupted across multiple districts, involving the Demoness Sect, the Iron and Blood Cross Order, and several other factions—drawing in double-digit high-Sequence Beyonders.
The royal family's two old powerhouses, a Sequence 3 and a Sequence 2, had already been dispatched. Together with the churches, they had brought out sealed artifacts, scrambling to put out fires everywhere. The palace, by contrast, was left relatively unguarded—whether out of neglect or deliberate choice, it was hard to say.
Tap.
Krismona halted, her gaze landing on the young man in luxurious attire seated upon the golden throne. She inclined her head slightly in greeting. "Good evening, Your Majesty."
After a pause, the young king, Dorian Sauron, replied in a clear voice, "Good evening, madam."
He straightened, a trace of puzzlement on his face. "Right now, shouldn't you be occupied with searching for those brass pillars?"
Krismona smiled. "Indeed. That's precisely why I'm here—for the eighth pillar. Oh, and as it happens…"
She raised a slender finger, holding a brass rod. "When I arrived at the palace earlier, someone tossed me this as a 'welcome gift.'"
With that, she tossed it toward King Dorian. He caught it effortlessly and set it aside without ceremony.
"You…know the true purpose of the brass pillars?"
Krismona nodded. "I can guess, more or less."
"To magnify His spirituality so He can pierce through the seal and influence the outside world. Then, using the locations of the eight pillars—those tied to His seven most trusted subordinates and His own tomb—and the Chain of Command of the War Bishop, He anchors Himself to them, dispersing the madness that plagues Him."
Dorian pressed further. "And beyond that?"
"Beyond that? I don't know."
The king was silent for a moment, then said, "Dispelling the madness is only temporary. His true goal is to use the brass pillars to lure seven demigod-level Hunters or Witches as prey, as 'sacrifices' to replace the remnant spirits of His subordinates. That way, He can shed His madness entirely, break free of the seal, and claw His way out from beneath Trier."
"Oh…No wonder news of the brass pillars only seemed to reach the Witch and Hunter pathways."
King Dorian pinched his fingers together and murmured, "Which means…you should never have come.
"When Vermonda Sauron breaks free of His seal, Trier will be destroyed. His 'resurrection' will come at the price of the entire city…and the whole kingdom of Intis."
Krismona's eyes widened in surprise. "You sound as though you don't want that to happen. Then why have you been helping Him all this time?"
"…I was deceived."
The young king revealed a pained, bitter smile.
"I thought…I thought I was someone valued and admired by my ancestors, that I was the future of Intis. I believed that helping Him 'resurrect' and break free from His seal was to add a mighty supporter to the Sauron family. I thought He was sealed away only because of betrayal and envy from others."
"But those were nothing more than my 'beliefs.'"
"Vermonda Sauron has always been a man who cared only for himself. That is why He fell into madness during His Conqueror advancement, and why He had to be sealed beneath Trier."
"By the time I realised this truth, it was already too late."
Dorian continued with a heavy voice, "Up to now, He has already killed four demigod-level witches and hunters. He is very close to succeeding."
Krismona frowned. "Only four? Even if you count me, that makes five. He's still two short of the seven demigods you mentioned. And—heh—as far as I know, quite a few of those brass rods are missing, aren't they? Can His plan really succeed?"
"…Add the two from the Sauron family."
"…"
She froze for a second, her expression shifting to surprise. "Well…He certainly does have guts."
After thinking for a moment, Krismona said, "Still, you've spoken at length, yet you've overlooked something."
"What is that?"
"The Church. Do you think they will stand idly by and watch Trier be destroyed?"
Dorian lowered his voice. "Vermonda Sauron seems to have already made an agreement with the Church. The Seven needs a new Red Priest."
"Heh. But…for someone who struggled even to advance to Sequence 1, why would the Seven believe He has any chance of ascending to Sequence 0?"
Krismona smiled faintly. "If the Church really did make such an 'agreement' with Him, then it's only to use Him as a probe—to test the state of the Tudor ruins buried beneath Trier."
As she spoke, she turned her head to one side.
"What do you say, Vermonda Sauron?"
Creak. Creak. Creak.
Accompanied by harsh, grating footsteps, a figure in blood-red armour corroded with rust emerged from the darkness. His eyes glowed scarlet and deranged, like those of a frenzied beast stripped of reason, exuding a terrifying and twisted aura.
"The last one."
He moved—his form erupting into a blur of crimson as he lunged toward Krismona.
But Krismona merely stepped back with unhurried grace. In the instant the figure closed in, a translucent hand emerged from her chest, pressing against the armoured man.
BOOM!
The blood-red armour shattered in an instant, exploding into a shower of fragments that clattered across the floor.
The king was struck dumb.
Krismona, however, strode slowly toward the direction from which the armoured figure had appeared. Her tone was light, touched with laughter:
"Vermonda Champagne Sauron...here I come."
———
7 Rose Street, inside the villa.
Little Snake Will Auceptin lay sprawled on the window ledge, chin resting in his hands, face full of worry.
"Sigh…Did Fate's revelation get it wrong? Why has Trier suddenly fallen into such chaos? Could something really disastrous be about to happen?"
Clutching his head, he cried:
"I can't tell, I really can't tell!"
Suddenly, Will froze mid-motion. He felt something—then his eyes widened in shock.
"Whoa! The grand play in Trier isn't even over yet, and another show has already begun?"
"That one…doesn't seem any smaller than this side!"
He pressed his lips together, hesitated for quite some time, then closed his eyes and murmured, "There's nothing more to say. The best I can do is give you some good luck, but I can't promise how much it will help."
"You'll…have to fend for yourself."
With that, he scuttled over to the bed in small steps, climbed under the covers, and let out a long sigh.
"I'd best do what a child my age ought to do. Goodnight, everyone. May you live to see tomorrow's sun."
———
Inside the world of Groselle's Travels.
After finishing his message on the paper crane, Edward chose not to dreamwalk. Instead, he waited patiently for quite some time.
At last, Little Snake's voice sounded at his ear:
"…Nothing more to say…give you some good luck…you'll have to fend for yourself."
Edward let out a long breath. Little Snake really had received it. The Fate Pathway's abilities were indeed frighteningly strong at times.
Truthfully, Edward was already satisfied that Will had bestowed him some good fortune. After all, in this timeline, they had only ever met once before, speaking for just a few minutes. It hardly counted as friendship. He strongly suspected that Will's willingness to help was largely out of deference to Lilith.
Still, since Little Snake had not warned him against entering the Hall of Truth, it probably meant…maybe…hopefully…it wasn't that dangerous after all.
Yes—
The greatest danger had always been Amon!
Edward was well aware that Amon's so-called "cooperation" was utter nonsense. Whether or not Amon had sensed the Sefirah Castle's aura on him, He was certainly far more interested in Edward than in anyone else.
But He had likely realised that Edward was as slippery as an eel at the moment—hard to catch—and so He was stalling for time, just like in Trier when He had played the "coward" game.
Edward waited a few minutes longer before finally flashing to the palace entrance.
"Occlumency…probably won't work inside the Hall of Truth, right?"
Despite the thought, Edward still reinforced his Occlumency, filling his mind with a chorus of nursery rhymes.
He passed through the colossal doorway once used by dragons, entering a palace so vast and ornate it defied imagination. In that instant, he felt like nothing more than an ant who had wandered into a human dwelling.
On either side of the palace stood towering stone pillars, forming a massive hall.
The hall's walls were lined with vivid frescoes, stretching forward until they converged around a colossal half-column that would have taken many men holding hands to encircle.
That immense column rose from the hall's deepest point, directly ahead, resembling the petrified figure of a god.
Amon and Steph stood a dozen meters away, having not gone any further inside, their gazes fixed upward on the pale grey silhouette sketched upon the column.
Not until Edward entered did they finally move, striding forward together.
"One can only imagine the dragon's strength at its peak," Amon's voice echoed through the hall, "yet even so, it was still defeated by Him."
"That's…my voice? Oh, so here, whatever you think is spoken aloud."
"Tch. So it really is."
As Amon's words faded, Edward's own voice resounded, "Twinkle, twinkle, little star, how I wonder what you are…"
———
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