Dorothy’s Forbidden Grimoire

Chapter 750 : Transaction

To the east of Tivian, above the vast Pritt Eastern Sea, a massive storm that had once stretched across hundreds of kilometers was now rapidly contracting. It spiraled inward toward its former eye, compressing violently and stirring up increasingly furious tides. Tempestuous gales and towering waves clashed in this ever-narrowing space, forming a scene that resembled the end of the world.

“What… is this?”

Suspended above the clouds, Harold—whose pupils bore eight sharp spines at their edges—stared down at the anomaly and couldn’t help but ask. At his side, Spring, whose eyes matched his own, responded.

“No idea... But the range of the storm is shrinking fast. Looks like it’s about to disappear. This is our chance.”

As Spring spoke, he and Harold kept their gaze on the storm’s whirling perimeter, which shrank ever smaller until it finally vanished completely.

At that moment, both Harold and Spring turned solemn. Together, they summoned the surrounding gales and dove from the sky, aiming directly at the heart of the now-vanished storm. As they plunged, they began condensing sharp blades of wind, preparing to clash once more with the petite knight they had previously fought.

To them, the massive natural storm's disappearance likely meant that the knight had reached her limit and could no longer sustain such a force. Now would be her moment of weakness—when her power was depleted—presenting the perfect opportunity to strike.

With that belief in mind, Harold and Spring hurtled downward wrapped in fierce winds, determined to settle the score. After a short dive, they finally caught sight of their target.

The violent storm had fully dissipated. Amid the tranquil sea and sky, a petite knight stood suspended in silence.

Her ornate and luxurious armored dress covered her body nearly entirely. A winged helmet masked her face, with intricate patterns etched across every detail of her armor. Her dark cape bore embroidered images of howling winds, and the long spear she clutched carried the fluttering banner of Pritt’s national emblem in the breeze.

Standing alone atop the sea after such cataclysmic winds, the small knight remained motionless, as if sensing something. Then, perceiving the shift in the skies above, she silently raised her head, looking up through her helmet at the oncoming enemy wind.

Next, the knight shifted the hand holding her spear and flag. Still suspended in midair, she stomped downward—and instantly, the surrounding air erupted. A spherical shockwave blasted outward from her position, spreading rapidly in every direction. A violent and indiscriminate burst of force radiated from the knight, distorting the air in a visible, explosive surge.

BOOM!!

With a half-beat delay, a thunderous roar echoed. The sea beneath the knight, which had begun to calm, was blasted into a vast hemispherical crater by the descending shock. From above, Harold and Spring saw the wall of force bearing down like a towering cliff, leaving no room to dodge. Instinctively, they halted midair and unleashed their pre-gathered wind blades and air cannons in a single barrage toward the incoming wall of force.

But to their shock, their attacks instantly dissolved upon contact with the wall—utterly ineffective at weakening it. The vast force wall surged forward unimpeded, slamming into them as they stared in disbelief.

Impossible! How could a move of such absurd scale and coverage still carry such devastating power?! Both Harold and Spring reeled at the realization that their focused techniques were no match even for a portion of her all-encompassing assault.

When the knight’s force wall struck their invisible wind shields, the defenses shattered instantly. The two were hurled backward, spitting blood as deep cracks spread across their stone-hardened skin.

Without saying a word, the petite knight waved her hand again. In the next instant, a massive wind column blasted downward from the sky, striking the disoriented Harold and Spring before they could recover. Overwhelmed by the sheer force, the two had no room to resist as they were driven downward, slammed into the sea, and forced deep beneath the surface in a geyser of frothing white water.

Once the waves settled, sea and sky returned to tranquility. Neither Harold nor Spring resurfaced immediately from the depths. Having swiftly removed her obstacles, the knight turned her gaze westward—toward a distant point beyond the horizon.

Then, with a sudden burst of wind and a shockwave that rippled across the sea, Anna took flight. Breaking the sound barrier in an instant, she shot toward Tivian.

At this moment, having received further blessings from Dorothy and newly titled as Duke Protector of the Nation—imbued with greater juridical support from Pritt—Anna had absorbed the entirety of the hurricane’s power. Her strength had ascended to a terrifying new height, now sufficient to deeply impact the ongoing battle in Tivian.

…

Eastern coast of Pritt, Tivian.

Within this slumbering metropolis, a battle far beyond the realm of ordinary mortals continued to unfold. Millions slept peacefully, unknowingly walking the razor’s edge beside utter destruction.

Above, a phantasmal forest still floated in the sky. Deep within those dreamlike giant trees lay a pure white cocoon—the heart of all dreams—drawing the most devout pilgrims toward it.

Fluttering grotesquely through the air on massive insectile wings, Gu Mian—whose body neared the completeness of a full Apostle—soared toward the cocoon at the sky’s summit. Like a moth to flame, he flew unwaveringly forward, offering his life in sacred devotion.

His pilgrimage was resolute. As he ascended, he began to sever ties with reality, returning to dream, to the core of his faith. Beneath the shroud of divinity, nothing could stand in his way.

And yet, not everyone in Tivian had succumbed to sleep. Aside from those fighting on various fronts—Dorothy’s forces clashing with the Eight-Spired Nest—some remained uninvolved, silently observing the battlefield’s evolution.

Northern Tivian suburbs, outside the eastern gate of the Royal Crown University—in the peaceful and livable Green Shade Town, house number 37.

At the doorstep of this seemingly ordinary residence, a girl in a loose-fitting sleep dress stood barefoot in slippers. Her short gray hair was messy, and a pair of glasses sat on her nose. In one hand she held a cup of motor oil coffee, while her eyes gazed skyward—toward Tivian’s illusion-filled skies, and the sacred cocoon nestled deep within the phantasmal dreamscape above.

“…Whoa. Spectacular.”

Wearing her usual lazy expression, Beverly scratched her head with a yawn, a frown slowly forming on her brow. After sipping her coffee, she strolled back inside her home, set the cup down on the coffee table, cracked her shoulders with a pop, and squinted slightly.

“…What a pain.”

…

“Such… a nuisance…”

Elsewhere, above the lower skies of Tivian, Dorothy—in her dragon form—was gliding on spread wings, her thoughts steeped in gravity and concern.

Ever since Gu Mian began undergoing Apostle transformation, Dorothy had been tirelessly attempting to stop him, to no avail. Now, with the power of Moth divinity behind him, Gu Mian had become exceedingly difficult to interfere with.

Under the influence of the Moth’s divinity, Dorothy could no longer even look directly at Gu Mian. If she did, she would fall into a deep hypnotic trance—entering a state of eternal sleep, unable to awaken.

Hypnosis had always been Gu Mian’s forte. But compared to the earlier forms—using waves and scales—his current method relied directly on visual connection. With just a glance, he could send someone into slumber via visual signals. He left no room for response or defense. Dorothy couldn’t even lift her gaze to glance at him now, let alone attempt to stop him.

Fortunately, Dorothy still had other detection methods to test.

…

In the eastern suburbs of Tivian, deep within a forest, an elderly man in a Pritt army uniform sat beneath a tree. He looked extremely weak, his expression filled with confusion and bewilderment, as if unable to comprehend what was happening around him.

“You’re saying… I was just corrupted by an evil god’s power? That I lost control and flew to the capital to cause destruction—and you were sent by the king to stop me?”

Marshal Kent of the Pritt Army asked uncertainly, staring at the enchanting and beautiful woman before him. She replied with a smile.

“Of course. All of Pritt is facing a crisis. I was entrusted by your king to help you deal with this pressing matter. Here—this is the royal insignia. If you don’t believe me, you can check it yourself.”

As she spoke, Adèle pulled out an exquisitely crafted royal medal and held it out to Kent. The weak marshal hesitated, then slowly nodded, seemingly convinced by her words.

After the Twilight Devotion completed the Moon Crown ritual, the influence of Mirror Moon surged across Tivian, even suppressing the original power of the Spider Queen to a certain degree. As a result, not only King Charles IV but also Marshal Kent—who had previously been corrupted and entered Tivian—regained his senses for the time being, ceasing his battle with Adèle.

Taking advantage of Kent’s disoriented and weakened state, Adèle had used a slight touch of her abilities to make her words more believable. Seeing that Kent now had no doubt, she continued speaking earnestly.

“Marshal, Tivian stands at the edge of ruin. We need your strength to resist the evil god together.”

Kent paused slightly after hearing her plea, then responded.

“…Alright. I believe you. I’ll help. But my body is weak right now—I can’t use my full strength.”

“That’s fine. I don’t need you to fight at the moment.”

Adèle replied. She pointed toward the sky and continued.

“Right now, there’s some massive living creature flying above Pritt. I want you to use your abilities to listen for it—to find its location. Its wings are enormous; they make a great deal of noise. With your strength, you should be able to hear it clearly.

“But listen carefully: you can only rely on hearing. You absolutely must not look at it. Do not look at the sky under any circumstances.”

With a grave tone, Adèle warned him firmly. Kent thought for a moment, then nodded.

“A massive creature flying over Tivian…? Alright, I’ll try listening.”

With that, he closed his eyes and activated his wind-sensing ability, focusing on detecting any disturbances in Tivian’s skies.

But almost as soon as he began listening, something shocking happened. Kent began to sway—then collapsed in an instant, unconscious, falling into a deep sleep without a sound.

Adèle frowned at the scene. After a soft sigh, she immediately used the information channel to send out a report on what had just occurred.

…

“Even auditory perception can’t detect Gu Mian…”

Flying low in her dragon form, Dorothy muttered grimly. Her expression was growing increasingly severe.

Just moments earlier, Dorothy had instructed several spy-priests aboard the Twilight Devotion to attempt every possible form of detection—aside from direct observation—against Gu Mian. These included Lantern-based radar scanning, mirror refraction observation, puppet-based indirect observation, spiritual sensing, filtered perception through spirituality-resistant goggles, fog-based distortion scanning, and more.

None of them worked. Every single method was affected by the Moth’s divinity radiating from Gu Mian.

Even the Lantern radar immediately shut down upon registering Gu Mian’s presence and couldn’t be turned back on. All other indirect methods—observing through mirrors, through special lenses, through fog, or using controlled meat puppets—resulted in near-instant sleep. Whether it was the puppet or the operator linked to it, both fell into slumber within less than a second.

No matter the method—direct or indirect, with or without precautions—any attempt to perceive Gu Mian resulted in immediate hypnosis. Even machines and instruments, devoid of consciousness, seemed to receive some implanted “shutdown command,” forcing them into dormant or sleep modes. It was similar to how the Spider Queen’s divinity could implant the concept of pain into non-living entities. The Moth’s divinity appeared capable of similar effects.

After all detection efforts aboard the Twilight Devotion had failed, Dorothy received yet another grim report from Adèle—an extraordinary Beyonder at Crimson-rank had fallen asleep immediately upon merely hearing Gu Mian. There had been no chance to resist.

“The divinity Gu Mian now possesses… it likely targets all forms of perception. If we perceive it in any way, we’ll fall under divine hypnosis!”

Floating near Dorothy’s dragon head, the black cat anxiously voiced what Dorothy herself had already concluded.

Any form of perception—not just vision—was now useless. Dorothy could no longer rely on any sensory method to locate or interact with Gu Mian. Whether it was sight, smell, hearing, or touch—even mystical detection abilities—all were now compromised. Under the influence of Moth divinity, all sensory channels would lead the perceiver into deep, eternal sleep.

“What an unreasonable form of divinity… At this point, we can only hope for her…”

Dorothy thought to herself as she raised her head—not toward Gu Mian’s position, but toward the eastern sky where Gu Mian wasn’t. And there, she saw rolling, oppressive black clouds approaching like a tidal wave.

At the port in the East District, waves crashed against the docks, violently rocking the moored ships. Howling sea winds swept inland, making the flags of Pritt snap and flutter noisily. The once-clear skies over Tivian were now shrouded in thick storm clouds.

Wind—fierce, thunderous wind—carried dense clouds from the sea over the entire city. Under the roar of the tempest, every flag was blown high, trees swayed violently, and scattered souvenirs from the World Expo were lifted into the sky.

In mere moments, the city-wide gale grew more intense. The howling winds drowned out all other sounds. Leaves were stripped from trees, storefront canopies torn away, soil and pebbles lifted skyward. Glass windows shattered from airborne debris. Moisture from the sea, carried on the storm winds, mingled with flying fragments.

Then came the rain—an all-encompassing downpour. A mighty storm now engulfed the entire eastern region of Pritt. Tivian’s visibility began to plummet.

A hurricane making landfall—this should be a phenomenon found in lower-latitude regions. But now, it was happening right on the streets of Tivian. The entire city was engulfed in howling winds and torrential rain, as though bracing itself for a disaster. Yet unbeknownst to its citizens, the ground and lower skies of the city were merely brushing the edge of the catastrophe. The true disaster lay above—in the skies over the city.

While the storm raged across Tivian, far above its skyline, an even more devastating gale was howling with unmatched fury. A destructive tempest had swept in from the sea and was now tearing through the heavens, annihilating everything in its path.

If the winds on the ground still fell within the bounds of natural phenomena, the ultimate gale in the upper skies—racing at several hundred kilometers per hour—defied all norms of the natural world. The difference in wind speed between the city and its sky was astronomical. While the wind sweeping Tivian’s streets was violent, it was at least within human understanding. But the winds high above? They were dozens of times more intense.

At this moment, the skies and ground of Tivian had split into two entirely different worlds. The deafening roar of the high-altitude storm utterly drowned out the chaos below. Looking up from the streets, one would see what resembled a colossal “conveyor belt” dominating the sky—an unimaginably vast flow running endlessly overhead. It pressed down upon the city, sweeping forward at breakneck speed. No one could hope to keep up with it. Accompanied by that overwhelming roar, it felt as if Tivian’s sky wasn’t a sky at all, but some massive oppressive entity—a “creature” looming above the city.

And Gu Mian, who had been steadily flying upward in his pilgrimage through Tivian’s skies, was suddenly struck by the tempest. Even with the body of an Apostle, he lost his balance under the force of the gale. His route was forcibly diverted, blown far off course, unable to resist the storm’s tremendous force.

Sensing the threat, Gu Mian let out a silent screech and tilted his semi-phantasmal body further toward intangibility, attempting to phase out from the storm’s influence. He quickly stabilized himself, but within this layered and abnormal maelstrom, mere wind wasn’t the only threat lying in wait.

Wind blades—dense, razor-thin blades of wind—were hidden amidst the storm. Billions upon billions of wind-formed blades surged with the upper storm front, slicing through and obliterating everything in their path.

“——!!!”

With a silent cry of pain, Gu Mian’s massive body split with countless sharp gashes. Millions of blades struck him in a single wave, shredding one side of his body. In an instant, his flesh erupted, torn to fine pieces like meat pushed through a grinder. His phantasmal tissue disintegrated into powder and was scattered by the wind.

At that very moment, on the storm-wracked coastline of Tivian, a petite knight in full armor stood upon the ocean’s surface, holding a fluttering flag. She pointed her spear toward Tivian. This was Anna Field, Duke Protector of Pritt, bringing her storm army to the battlefield at last.

It was Anna who had summoned this city-consuming tempest. Her storm army now raged across Tivian’s skies, attacking every target in the royal capital’s airspace. The blades of her wind soldiers cut mercilessly through every inch of sky, leaving no corner untouched.

Since they couldn’t pinpoint Gu Mian’s exact location in the sky, Dorothy had devised this strategy: designate all of Tivian’s upper atmosphere as the strike zone and launch an indiscriminate bombardment. Even without locating the enemy, this would ensure Gu Mian was hit.

Anna had now unleashed the Billion-Blade Storm over Tivian’s skies. If she were to lower the altitude and direct this force at the city itself, she could flatten the entire metropolis in short order—reducing a city of millions to rubble and dust. What the streets were experiencing now was only a mere aftershock of Anna’s true storm. Even the Twilight Devotion, a saint steel vessel, had to drop altitude to avoid the full force of her winds.

Under this brutal, blade-laced storm, Gu Mian was forced to divert all of his power toward regeneration. One half of his body was pulverized into powder even as the other half frantically regrew. As a nearly complete Apostle, Gu Mian possessed an overwhelming wellspring of spirituality, allowing his ethereal form to heal at terrifying speed. Against all odds, he endured the storm and continued his flight toward the sky.

Even now—within this annihilating tempest—Gu Mian pressed on, rebuilding his body while continuing his pilgrimage. Though his speed was hampered, he still advanced, now treating the windstorm as yet another sacred trial on his path of devotion.

“No… Based on the resonance of the Sacred Cocoon, Gu Mian is still intact! His speed may be slightly reduced, but he is still fast enough to reach the teleportation point before his time runs out!”

“The storm is powerful—but can it be even stronger?!”

At lower altitude, Dorothy circled in her dragon form. Beside her, the black cat—attuned to the Sacred Cocoon—spoke grimly.

“Even this isn’t enough to stop it…”

Dorothy frowned at the words and immediately contacted Anna through the communication channel. But Anna’s reply wasn’t optimistic.

“I can’t, teacher… This is already my limit.

“Blanket coverage of the entire Tivian sky—this is the largest range I can manage. If I want to increase the power of the attack, I’d have to reduce the coverage. But doing so means we might miss the enemy entirely.”

Hovering just off the harbor, Anna’s voice carried deep weight. Upon hearing her words, Dorothy’s heart sank even further.

“Narrowing the attack range would increase the strike’s intensity… but then we couldn’t guarantee hitting Gu Mian. It’d be too risky.”

“So now… we’d have to gamble? Guess Gu Mian’s location, concentrate fire there, and hope we’re right? If we guess correctly, we could land a more effective blow—but if we’re wrong, we’d be letting it go free…”

Dorothy brooded over the options, but in an instant, she made her decision.

“No—we can’t gamble. If we guess wrong, it’s all over. We must find Gu Mian’s exact location and deliver a fatal strike. But how? When we can’t perceive it through any means… how can we find where it is?”

Falling silent in deep thought, Dorothy—the one unwilling to gamble the fate of millions on a dice roll—wrestled for a solution. And under the immense pressure, a flicker of inspiration struck.

“…Maybe… it’s worth trying this…”

With a newfound idea, Dorothy immediately activated her communication channel and reached out to a different contact—Nephthys.

…

"Whew… Finally done.”

Inside a hidden house on a quiet Tivian street, in a room where countless ghostly green soul flames floated midair as part of a ritual site, Nephthys exhaled deeply and stretched. She had just completed the task Dorothy had entrusted to her. Rising to her feet, she walked over to the window and looked out at the scene of howling wind and pouring rain.

“My side is handled… but I wonder how things are elsewhere. Miss Dorothy mentioned going into the dream to battle the enemy… I wonder if she’s won?”

This thought tugged at Nephthys’ mind, a sliver of worry rising within her. Just as anxiety crept in, Dorothy’s comm line opened.

“Ah… Miss Dorothy, things are mostly wrapped up here. How about your side? Huh? Souls? I still have a few left—I haven’t sent them all back yet…

“…What? A new task?”

Nephthys furrowed her brow slightly, puzzled by Dorothy’s request.

…

On Tivian’s storm-lashed streets, Nephthys—wearing glasses, a robe, and a hood—soared through the turbulent air. The wind howled against her garments, rain splattered her glasses, and she endured it all as she flew swiftly at low altitude.

Thanks to Anna’s wind manipulation from afar, Nephthys was able to travel at breakneck speeds across the city skies. Fortunately, she was a Chalice Beyonder; otherwise, this velocity might have rendered her unconscious.

“All right… almost there…”

After a high-speed flight, Nephthys arrived at the predetermined location and landed on the rooftop of a tall building. Wasting no time, she released a translucent ghost onto the roof and instructed it to remain stationed there.

With that done, she quickly took off again, flying to the next designated rooftop. Within seconds, she reached it and released another ghost.

And so it went—under the rain and wind, Nephthys darted across the city’s airspace, placing ordinary summoned ghosts from her earlier rituals at distant, strategic points. With Anna’s wind assisting her, she managed to deploy ghosts across a vast area in about half a minute.

Once the last ghost was placed, Nephthys reported in through the comm line.

“Huff… huff… it’s so cold… Miss Dorothy, everything is ready!”

“Excellent. Begin.”

Receiving Dorothy’s response, Nephthys immediately began the operation. She closed her eyes. With the aid of a divine artifact—the Goblet of Nether Guidance—which she had obtained from Dorothy beforehand, she linked herself to the many ghosts spread across the city within a range of tens of kilometers.

Then, Nephthys issued a single unified command to all of them:

Look to the sky.

At once, across countless rooftops and positions, those stationed ghosts all looked up toward the heavens. Some saw nothing due to their angle. But others—those with clear sightlines—caught glimpses of something in the stormy skies: a faint, pale figure, hidden within the howling wind and rain.

Some ghosts saw the figure clearly. Some vaguely. Others only sensed the faintest hint of it. But whether their vision was sharp or hazy, all those who saw that pale form reacted the same way—they collapsed. Eyes closed. Even in undeath, they fell into slumber.

Nephthys had severed her sensory link with the ghosts beforehand, ensuring she wasn’t affected. The moment the ghosts succumbed to sleep, they disconnected from her awareness.

At that moment, Dorothy—monitoring the entire process via the comm network—sharpened her focus and began a rapid calculation.

The key: timing.

Though the ghosts seemed to fall asleep at the same time, a microscopic discrepancy existed.

Back when Dorothy had tested various observation methods aboard the Twilight Devotion, they had all failed. But she did gain one crucial insight: the degree of hypnosis varied slightly depending on how directly Gu Mian was perceived.

Those who saw Gu Mian head-on collapsed instantly. Those who viewed it through thick mist took a fraction of a second longer to succumb. This indicated that the more direct the observation, the faster the effect; the more obscured, the slower.

Tivian’s skies were now filled with violent storms—concealing Gu Mian’s form like mist had during those tests. Depending on how close or far each ghost was, their view of Gu Mian varied in clarity. Ghosts closer to it saw it more clearly; those farther away saw it more dimly, or not at all.

Using this difference—however minuscule—Dorothy now had enough to work with.

Even the smallest time lapse, from 0.0001 to 0.01 seconds between ghosts disconnecting, could be measured and leveraged by Dorothy’s calculations. By correlating the timing of each ghost’s collapse with its known position, and referencing Tivian’s map, Dorothy triangulated Gu Mian’s precise location in the storm-wracked sky.

The next step: transmit that exact coordinate to Anna, who was already standing by.

…

Far off the coast of Tivian, over the raging sea, a massive tornado churned amid the storm—ripping up waves, capsizing ships, and growing ever larger and more terrifying.

Within the howling walls of that tornado, Anna stood—flag raised high. The moment she received Dorothy’s signal, she shouted.

“Wind—charge with me!!”

At her cry, Anna launched into the sky. The tornado around her followed like a dragon, coiling and roaring as it surged upward—charging toward the heavens above the city.

In that instant, the furious storm blanketing Tivian suddenly lost strength. The rain slackened. And high above, Gu Mian’s form became vividly clear.

Gu Mian, who had been struggling forward through the blade-laced storm, seized the moment. He accelerated, surging toward the dreamlike forest canopy high above. Only seconds remained—within five seconds, he would reach the teleportation zone, activate the dream-gate, and arrive at the Sacred Cocoon.

BOOM!

From the eastern sky, a colossal tornado came hurtling in—far faster than Gu Mian could ever hope to evade. Like a sea dragon leaping from the ocean, it roared through the sky toward its target.

The devout, ecstatic Gu Mian barely had time to react before the storm dragon was upon him. At the dragon’s head—her eyes closed, all senses sealed—was Anna, wielding her spear, charging toward the pinpointed location.

“Wh—?!”

In a moment of stunned disbelief, Gu Mian reached out with his arms and tendrils to block—but they were instantly shredded into mist by the storm’s force. The storm dragon kept charging.

And it struck.

The immense, bloated body—already deformed beyond nature—was drawn into the vortex like meat into a grinder. With a final shriek, Gu Mian was torn to phantasmal fragments, which scattered into the wind, drifting down from the skies.

…

Upon the wind-eroded plains, beneath a still sky, a witch with eight pupils stood on the cracked earth, a faint smile gracing her lips as she gazed at the silent, broken knight seated on the throne ahead. It was as though she were reminiscing—retracing the past—before she resumed her slow and deliberate approach.

Step by step, the witch moved closer to the throne, as if advancing toward a prize she was determined to claim. The figure on the throne made no move in response, remaining motionless in solemn silence.

Clang!

Suddenly, a sharp metallic clang echoed through the space. Before the witch, a copper-colored metal grille wall abruptly shot up from the ground, cutting her off from the throne. Similar barriers rose on the other three sides, encasing the throne entirely within a brass cage—a protective prison. The witch frowned slightly at the sight and came to a halt.

Even so, though she had stopped moving, the crisp sound of clashing metals—the unmistakable resonance of forbidden tomes—continued to reverberate through the space. The clamor became increasingly rhythmic, joined by more and more overlapping mechanical tones. It began to feel as though she had entered the heart of a bustling factory.

“…Ah… It’s you…”

Looking at the cage before her, the witch murmured with realization. Around her, the metallic sounds had transformed into the roar of machinery and the hiss of steam. The temperature in the space was climbing rapidly.

Amid the roaring, the ground split open. Towering metal columns—each over a hundred meters tall—rose from the fissures, their surfaces etched with deep and arcane runes. Scalding steam hissed from the chasms between them, shooting skyward in bursts.

Above, the oppressive black clouds were being driven apart by some unseen force. Emerging from within were colossal gears, each spanning hundreds or even thousands of meters. These impossible constructs hovered in the heavens, meshing and turning in synchronized motion. Vast chains and linkages connected them, forming a massive integrated mechanism that blotted out the sky.

The mechanized sky bore down upon the land with suffocating pressure. The mechanical grinding, the roar of turning gears and churning steam, filled the entire space—transforming this world into an infinite industrial factory. At the center of the mechanized sky, directly aligned with the broken throne, a massive glass-like "eye" formed from spinning gears—its crimson light flickering with an unsettling glow. It stared down like a sentinel, issuing a silent warning to the figure approaching the throne—regarding all things beneath it with cold disdain.

The witch paused, taking in the abrupt transformation of the environment. Then, she looked up at the massive eye and smiled.

“So that’s who it is… So you’re the final trump card Selene called in? I see. So once the secret fails, some mechanism is triggered… and you receive the necessary information to carry out the final measure.”

“Even now… you're still so invested in Hyperion’s affairs? Even if it’s just about His heir… I’d thought you were the cleverest of the ‘Stones,’ but in the end, you’re just like the rest of your kind—blind to the moment, stubborn to a fault…”

“I advise you—defying the ‘greater trend’ never ends well.”

Her gaze fixed on the crimson eye in the heavens, the witch spoke coolly. But the mechanized sky gave no response. Its overwhelming pressure persisted, its presence unwavering, offering no sign of compromise.

Seeing this, the witch let out a slow breath, then continued, her tone tinged with resignation.

“So you don’t intend to yield, huh? Well, I figured as much. I wasn’t unprepared for your arrival. In fact, I expected it.”

“First things first, put away your weapon. I’ve no intention of fighting you here. But I won’t relinquish what I’ve come for either. So…”

Looking up at the mechanized heavens, a deeper layer of intent crept into the witch’s smile.

“…Let’s make a trade.”

“You, who are still upholding the ‘Domain of Commercial Gold’ from fully falling—surely you cannot refuse a transaction, can you? Even if you do favor Hyperion and His heir… at a time like this, you are bound to neutrality.”

“If… I can offer you something valuable enough—then in return, you must sell me what’s in that cage.”

As she spoke, the witch slowly bowed her head, the eight pupils within her eyes locking firmly onto the shattered knight within the brass prison.

And she smiled.