That evening, Jeanne arrived at Talulah's bedroom to find that Alina was there as well.
"Alina? Why are you here? Don't you have classes tomorrow?"
"I'm a bit worried," Alina said with a forced, fragile smile. "This is a matter of the soul, after all. One wrong move could be fatal. Even if we joked around during the day, I can't close my eyes tonight. I have to see this for myself."
Jeanne nodded. No matter how much she insisted there was no danger, worry was only natural—like a relative waiting outside an operating room for a "minor" surgery.
"Are you ready, Talulah? I'm starting now."
"What should I do?" Talulah asked, her voice tight. She didn't truly understand what was happening, but her intuition told her this would be a massive turning point in her life.
"Nothing. Empty your mind. Don't let your worries bind you or block your soul. I will find the solution through prayer."
Jeanne closed her eyes and began to pray. In truth, she didn't have a technical "method"—she simply called upon the Lord. This time, it was surprisingly smooth. A flash of brilliant light erupted, connecting their three souls and pulling them into a strange, ethereal space.
Jeanne blinked as she realized her prayer had worked. They were in the spiritual realm. But she was baffled—how did Alina get in? She had only intended to bring herself and Talulah.
"What happened? Why is Alina here?" Talulah asked, looking around in confusion.
"I don't know. Maybe there's a necessity for her to be here, or maybe the power just caught her because she was so close," Jeanne mused. Regardless, they couldn't send her back now. They had to move forward.
As they walked, the landscape shifted to reflect Talulah's memories. They passed buildings in the style of Yan, seeing a young Talulah running alongside a little blue-haired girl.
"This is Lungmen," Jeanne realized. It matched the city style from her past life's memories.
Alina stared in awe at the exotic scenery, so different from the frozen wastes of Ursus. "Is that little girl your sister?"
"Yes. Ch'en Huijie. My biological sister, though we have different fathers." Talulah watched the phantom of her past self. "Her father was a coward who abandoned her. She was so timid back then. I spent my time chasing away the brats who bullied her. How could we not be close?"
Talulah spoke with a soft nostalgia, wondering what had become of her sister after all these years. They saw other figures—a small tiger-like girl and a pink-eared mouse girl—people who had left a deep impression on her. Her parents, however, were nowhere to be seen, likely tucked away in a deeper, more guarded part of her heart.
Suddenly, the atmosphere darkened. Under a gloomy sky, a dragon and several black-clad figures surrounded a cold, imposing man. Standing beside him were the young Talulah and Ch'en.
Talulah's voice turned bitter as she recounted how she was manipulated by Kashchey, forced into explosive handcuffs that could have leveled half of Lungmen, and taken away. Alina felt a pang of sorrow for her friend; she hadn't realized Talulah carried such a heavy burden.
"Be careful," Jeanne warned, her white vestments shimmering with light as she took a defensive stance. "We're approaching the root of the problem."
The environment bled into a landscape of black earth and blood-red skies. In the distance stood a magnificent mansion. But what caught Jeanne's eye was the sky above it: a brilliant sword, seemingly forged of pure light, hung suspended in the air.
It was a stunning, artistic contrast—a beacon of warmth in a realm of cold shadows.
Talulah stared at the mansion with murderous intent. "I knew it... Kashchey! You truly are a ghost that refuses to leave."
"Kashchey? The foster father who took you?" Jeanne asked.
"Yes. He 'raised' me for over a decade, but only to ensure I would inherit his twisted ideologies and cruel methods. I thought I had severed my ties with him when I became Infected and killed him to escape. Apparently, I was wrong."
Talulah drew her greatsword, preparing for a fight. "Stay alert. He has no sense of honor. He'll look for any opening to ruin us."
"Your foster father has interesting taste, though," Jeanne noted, looking up at the glowing blade in the sky. "Suspending a sword like that... it's like a piece of art. It gives this hellish place a sense of divine judgment."
Strangely, Jeanne noticed her connection to the Lord felt muffled here; her Revelation felt more like a combat instinct than divine guidance.
"That's the thing," Talulah whispered, her brow furrowing. "I don't remember Kashchey ever having a sword like that. He was a man of vulgar tastes—he'd decorate with the heads of the Infected before he'd ever create something this beautiful."
"Wait... you've never seen that sword in your own memories?"
Jeanne felt a chill. The "water" here was deeper than she had thought. But the three warriors did not hesitate; they marched straight into the heart of the Demon King's domain.