"He was the God of Knowledge?" Leo asked.
Ilandra's gaze lingered on the orb. "He was like a leader to us all. Even the Destroyer once sought his counsel."
"Then why did he look into the void?"
Her brow furrowed slightly. "That part, I cannot recall. Perhaps when more of my power is restored, the memory will return. But even if I told you now, I fear that answer would draw every eye in this world upon us."
Leo exhaled, a long sigh slipping past his lips. "Then what can you tell me about the ritual?"
"I can explain its workings," she said, turning her head just enough to catch him from the corner of her eye, "but what you need most to know is this, the ritual will take at least one year to complete."
"One year?" A faint smile tugged at Leo's mouth. "That's some good news, at least."
Her attention shifted fully to him. "And what do you intend to do with the orb?"
Leo blinked, uncertain. "I was hoping you could tell me."
"The orb has served its purpose, yet it still holds value. There is a deep bond between it and myself. If you place it somewhere, I can cleanse that place through that connection."
"Then why didn't you cleanse the city?"
"That city is steeped in a corruption I still cannot comprehend."
"Like the void?" he pressed.
Her answer came clipped, almost wary. "Maybe."
"Then I'll leave it here for now."
Leo leaned back on his throne, lost in thought for several minutes before speaking again. "If we cleanse the shadowlands… would it help Lilith?"
"Even if only a little," she said softly, "yes, it would."
Leo lingered a while longer, silent in contemplation, before finally returning to the others.
…
After resting a few more hours, they returned to the city, where Alina and the others welcomed them with visible relief. The air around the group was heavy, though, victory had come, but not without its cost, and everyone seemed weighed down by the memory of what they had faced.
That night, Leo let them rest. He chose not to overwhelm them further, deciding instead to explain everything tomorrow. For now, he turned his attention to the spoils they had gathered. One item in particular caught his eye, a worn leather-bound book with faded lettering on the cover: The Maze of Madness. The moment he touched it, a faint chill ran through his fingers, as though the pages themselves carried some lingering presence. The name alone was enough to stir unease, but curiosity won out. He slid the book into his bag for later study before heading to the room he had claimed for himself and Elna.
The following morning, Leo gathered everyone in the hall and recounted all he had learned from Ilandra. He spoke of the ritual, of the danger it posed, and of the single year they had before it reached completion. One detail, however, he held back, the truth about the Mad God. Speaking of it now felt like tempting fate itself; even a whisper of that knowledge could draw ruin upon them.
When he finished, the room sank into silence. No one moved, no one rushed to speak. Each of them seemed caught in their own thoughts, the enormity of what lay ahead pressing down on them all.
Finally, Edgarth adjusted his glasses, his tone calm but edged with tension. "So… what do you plan to do in this one year?"
"I thought about it all night," Leo said, steadying himself.
Before he could continue, Elna leaned in close, her breath brushing his ear as she pinched his arm. A mischievous smile curved her lips. "So that's where your mind was."
Heat rose to Leo's face, his eyes flashing red for a brief moment. Clearing his throat, he ignored the amused glances from the others and continued.
"As I was saying, I've given it careful thought. We should use this year not only to grow stronger, but to explore these lands and cleanse them of the corruption that lingers."
Luciana raised an eyebrow, her voice skeptical. "And why exactly would we do that?"
"Because even small victories will matter," Leo answered firmly, his gaze sweeping over the group. "Each act of cleansing strengthens The Goddess of the Moon, and every bit of her strength may be the key to standing against what's coming."
"There's another thing we can do," Elna said, her hand resting under her chin as she thought aloud. Her calm but sharp tone pulled everyone's attention to her. "We already know which direction the vampires are. If we explore toward them carefully, we could reduce their numbers bit by bit. A war of attrition."
"That's a good idea," Leo agreed, giving her a nod.
"I am curious about one thing," Arthur added after a moment's silence. His gaze shifted toward Luciana, his expression unreadable. "If you can sense your family even here… doesn't that mean they can sense you as well?"
Luciana's face tightened, her features twisting with discomfort. "They might be able to. But I can't sense them when we're inside this city."
Arthur's eyes narrowed. "You're saying the Goddess of Nature's power blocks your connection?"
Luciana gave a reluctant nod. "I think so."
"Then it's better if you stay inside the city," Arthur said bluntly. "I won't risk them ambushing us because of your presence."
Luciana's voice rose in protest, sharp with anger. "Hey, I can't just stay locked up here forever."
Leo stepped in before the tension could escalate further. "There may be another way," he said, his voice firm enough to cut through their rising hostility. "We can establish safe zones around the city. After cleansing them, I can anchor teleportation spells there. That way, Luciana can travel freely between points without exposing us, or herself, to her family's detection."
Arthur crossed his arms, considering. "That could work… but it also means if someone else discovers those teleport anchors, they could use them to invade the city."
"Then we secure them as much as possible," Leo replied, already thinking of traps and enchantments. "Nothing is perfect, but it's better than leaving gaps in our plans. For now, though, we should focus on what's most important, using this time to make ourselves as strong as possible."
No one voiced an objection. Deep down, they all understood: against the vampires, their current strength wasn't nearly enough.
…
Deep in the shadowlands lay a city. Once alive with voices, markets, and the glow of hearthfires, it now stood hollow beneath a sky that had forgotten dawn.
The city was not dead, death would have been a mercy.
It lingered, festering, like a wound left to rot. Dark rain, thick and red as blood, sluiced down the warped timbers of abandoned houses. It carried mud and filth into the streets, spreading rot instead of cleansing. The cobbles ran slick with black ichor, the remnants of things that once walked upright but now slithered and clawed in the shadows. Above, monster crows screamed and tore at a corpse dangling from the gallows. Its eyeless sockets stared forever at the road below, a mute warning to any who dared trespass.
From the ruins came the monsters, drawn to the scent of blood, twisted mockeries of humanity. Bloated carrion-feeders with too many teeth, pale wretches scuttling on broken limbs, their eyes gleaming with starving madness. Yet even monsters can know fear. They shrieked and scattered when the vampires and werewolves arrived.
Lucius led them. Cloaked in the storm's darkness, his very presence bled dread into the marrow of the city. His retinue followed, vampires gliding as soundless as shadows, werewolves loping with muzzles still wet from slaughter. Where they passed, the abominations were torn apart, claws raking, fangs piercing, cobblestones painted with steaming gore. Silence followed them, heavy and absolute, as if the city itself dared not breathe.
At last, they reached the heart. A great building loomed before them, black stone jutting against the bruised sky, its towers rising like the ribs of a colossal skeleton. Once it may have been a hall of governance, or a temple to some forgotten god. Now it stood as a mausoleum, its vast doors gaping like the jaws of a beast waiting to swallow them whole.
Lucius lifted his head, his eyes burning cold blue through the blood rain. His lips curved—not into a smile, but something crueler.
"This city," he whispered, voice deep and hollow as a funeral toll, "is where it all began."
Behind him, the vampires stirred, and the werewolves rumbled with low growls, hunger twisting into anticipation. The storm roared in answer, and the building's great doors seemed to shudder with it, as though what waited inside had heard his words, and was eager.
Lucius entered the building with only the two S-ranks at his side, leaving the rest to guard the perimeter. The air inside was thick, stale, carrying the weight of centuries.
At the center of the vast hall stood a statue, tall, imposing, carved in the likeness of a man clutching a book. Its expression, however, was wrong. The mouth was stretched into an unnatural grin, the kind of smile that spoke not of joy but of madness.
Around the statue's neck hung an amulet, shaped like an eye, its surface gleaming faintly even in the dim light.
Lucius's lips curved. "There it is."
He turned to Ed Wilson, the massive werewolf looming at his side. "Tell the others to prepare. We begin the ritual at once."
Ed gave a curt nod and padded toward the entrance.
Lucius fixed his gaze on the amulet. His smile widened, sharp and hungry.
He turned his head toward his mother at the other side, and said with a calm and deliberate voice. "I leave Luciana to you."
Without waiting for her reply, Lucius strode toward the statue and the amulet. The ritual would demand nearly all of his focus, and for that, he could spare no distractions.
…
Marco's shift was over. He walked toward the door but stopped, his mind racing. He had come this far, observed Edgar for weeks, yet the thought of asking still made his stomach tighten. After a long moment, he turned back to the smith, Edgar Wilkerson, whose focus remained on the sword he was hammering.
"Mr. Edgar… I want you to teach me how to be a smith," Marco said, forcing conviction into his voice.
He had watched Edgar work countless hours, learning from a distance, but time was short. Every delay felt like the world was slipping further toward ruin.
"I already told you, I don't take students," Edgar replied without looking up, the hammer striking the blade with measured rhythm.
"Why not? I promise I won't disappoint you."
Marco remembered the story his coach had shared. Edgar had once taken a student, though the details had been vague.
"I will not release another abomination on this world," Edgar said sharply, finally lifting his head. His eyes, sharp and assessing, pinned Marco in place.
'Abomination? What did his last student do?' Marco wondered, a cold knot forming in his stomach.
Not willing to back down, he raised his voice, steadying his resolve. "I don't know what happened with your last student, but that doesn't mean everyone is like him!"
For the first time, Edgar walked toward him. Each step seemed to shrink the space around Marco. The air felt heavier, thick with the weight of unspoken truths.
"He believed he was the destined one," Edgar said, stopping just a step away. His gaze was piercing. "The one meant to rule the world, to save it from corruption… But he was the corruption itself. How can you prove you are not like him?"
A shiver ran down Marco's spine, his heart hammering in his chest. He forced himself to stand tall, locking eyes with the smith, and spoke before hesitation could claim him. "I need to learn… to help save this world. I owe it to the—"
The word slipped out before he could stop it. "Creator."
Marco's stomach dropped. He hadn't meant to say it aloud. Saying it was dangerous, revealing more than he intended, and yet the word hung in the air like a challenge.
Edgar froze for a fraction of a second, hammer still in hand, and slowly lifted his gaze. His eyes, sharp and commanding, seemed to pierce straight into Marco's soul. "Creator?" His voice was calm, yet the sheer weight behind it made Marco's knees feel weak. "Who is that?"
The air seemed to thicken. Marco's heart raced as he took in the full force of Edgar's presence. Every motion, every movement of the smith radiated power and authority. He was no ordinary man. The aura around him, the way his hands held the hammer, the precision of his gaze, the quiet confidence in his stance, spoke of someone who could shape the world.
Marco inhaled deeply, swallowing the fear that threatened to choke him. There was no hiding the truth now. Edgar was more than a master craftsman. Marco had to speak, had to trust him.
"The one who will stop the God of Light… and prevent the destruction of this world," he said, voice trembling slightly but firm.
Edgar's eyes widened slightly, as if long-dormant memories had been stirred by the name. Recognition flickered across his face. Slowly, he walked back to his seat, the hammer now resting beside him.
"Your training starts tomorrow," he said, the words final but not unkind.
Relief washed over Marco. A smile broke across his face as adrenaline and excitement surged through him. He nodded fervently. "Thank you."
Marco's mind raced with anticipation. He knew the coming training would be grueling, perhaps more than anything he had endured, but he also understood that this was his chance to grow strong enough to face the looming threat.