Dorothy’s Forbidden Grimoire

Chapter 758 : Contact

Eastern Coast of Pritt, Tivian.

At dusk, in the northern suburbs of Tivian, the small Green Shade Town lay quiet and still in the aftermath of a light rain. The narrow, tree-lined streets were empty, the ground damp, and the sky overcast with little sunlight. In this fleeting time between late summer and early autumn, a desolate chill lingered over the town.

Walking across the rain-slick grass, dressed in a white blouse and black skirt, Dorothy strolled leisurely through the fresh post-rain air, having just returned from the city library. Following a familiar path, she soon arrived at a rather ordinary and old villa, its walls covered in creeping vines.

Dorothy stood in front of the house, lifting her head to study the address plaque carefully. This was Green Shade No. 37. It was the first place she had ever visited upon arriving in Tivian, and aside from her own home, it was the place she was most familiar with in the town.

Looking at this only neighbor’s home she could reasonably drop in on, Dorothy let out a faint breath of relief. She stepped forward and knocked on the door, then stood quietly to wait.

In the past, the moment she knocked, a certain boisterous automaton girl would burst through the door to greet her. Even if she was in the middle of something, the door would at least open automatically to let Dorothy inside for a rest. But this time, nothing happened.

Dorothy stood for several minutes. Beverly did not come to answer the door, nor did it open on its own. That could only mean one thing: her neighbor wasn’t home.

“Huff… Still out, huh?”

Staring at the motionless door, Dorothy sighed inwardly. She had already come here several times lately, trying to ask some questions, but each time she found the same result.

Since the divine incident at the Tivian World Expo, Dorothy had been completely unable to contact Beverly. She had wanted to consult her afterward, but whether through the Literary Sea Logbook or by visiting in person, Beverly was nowhere to be found. The only sign left behind was a plaque on the door during Dorothy’s first visit, reading “Away from home.”

“Where has that automaton gone, anyway? Not a single word in all this time… Even if she was traveling, surely she could have sent a message back… What’s she been up to?”

Gazing at the closed door, Dorothy thought to herself, then shook her head and turned to head home.

Recently, with the matter regarding Frisland emerging, Dorothy had hoped to consult Beverly. When her attempt at contact via the Logbook failed again, she’d decided to visit in person once more. But Beverly was still nowhere to be found, and Dorothy couldn’t help but feel a bit disappointed.

“Hope she hasn’t run into trouble…”

Dorothy muttered internally, walking along the quiet Green Shade Street. Before long, she returned to her own home, Green Shade No. 17. But just as she was about to enter, something caught her attention.

“Huh… mail?”

Dorothy stared in surprise at the contents sticking out of her open mailbox. Normally, the only person who ever sent her letters was Gregor, who transferred her monthly living expenses via post to her mailbox. But ever since he gave her what he considered a large sum and sent her off, Gregor had barely written again. Aside from him, hardly anyone else should have this address.

After briefly inspecting the mailbox, Dorothy didn’t open it herself. Instead, she entered her home and had one of her corpse-servant housekeepers retrieve the item.

It turned out to be a small package, likely containing a book. After inspecting it, the servant confirmed the sender’s identity by spotting a familiar set of initials.

It was Beverly’s personal abbreviation. In the past, when Dorothy was traveling, Beverly had used this same name to mail her necessary supplies.

“So the automaton sent it… guess she’s fine after all.”

Seeing the contents and sender, Dorothy finally let out a breath of relief. She then ordered the corpse-servant to conduct a thorough inspection of the parcel. Once it was deemed safe, the servant unwrapped it.

Inside, as expected, was a thin, old book with a yellowed cover. Its title, written in the northern continental language of Fria culture, read:

“The King of the Dead.”

Undoubtedly, it was a mystical text, one that Beverly had specifically mailed to Dorothy. And Dorothy had a good guess as to why. Not long ago, she had written to Beverly via the Literary Sea Logbook asking for more detailed information about the King of the Underworld. She had knocked on her door today for the same reason. This mystical text seemed to be Beverly’s reply.

“So she didn’t have time to write back, but she had time to send a book… What is she even doing these days?”

Dorothy mused as she looked at the old, thin mystical text in the corpse-servant’s hand. Regardless, now that she was fairly sure Beverly wasn’t in danger, she relaxed a little and had the servant bring the book inside.

Later, she instructed the servant to lock the door and deliver the mystical text to her second-floor study. Once she personally received it, she placed it on her desk, opened it, and began reading with great care.

As expected, the text concerned the King of the Underworld. It was a collection of hymns and verses extolling Him. After finishing her reading, Dorothy had acquired a more rounded understanding of this mysterious deity.

…

“…Ah, O King of the Underworld, the first to betray death…

“You were once King of the Earth—treading the seas, striking the heavens, defying the Tyrant Sun! Now You are King of the Underworld—renouncing death, becoming the Father of Immortality!

“The living praise You—You are the undisputed King of the land of life… The dead praise You—You are the eternal King of the land of death… Your subjects shall forever follow You, in life and beyond death… I, too, would offer my bones to build Your throne…

“The Forgotten King shall never be forgotten… The dead can die no further… You shall return to resolve all debts… You shall personally end the tyranny of light…”

…

Seated at her desk, Dorothy quietly flipped through the mystical text, reading poem after poem in praise of the deity. Gradually, she formed a deeper picture of the King of the Underworld.

He was known by His followers as the First to Betray Death—the King of the Dead, ruler of all who had perished, the Forgotten King, the embodiment of eternity and immortality.

According to His worshippers’ doctrine, all living beings, once dead, rightfully became His servants—His people. They believed that all things experienced in life were fleeting and secondary; all suffering and hardship were but trials. The purpose of existence was to lead toward death, and death was the ultimate destination.

The followers of the King of the Underworld believe that once every living being's brief life comes to an end, they will enter the King of the Underworld’s realm of the dead, where they will attain a true “life” of eternal and undying existence, forever dwelling there. In the brief period before death, they are expected to serve the King of the Underworld to the best of their ability. The more they serve Him during their lifetime, the higher their status will be in the eternal afterlife, where they will stand atop the backs of those dead who neither served nor believed in the King.

They believe that in time, no new life will be born, and death will claim all beings. When that day comes, all will arrive at the realm of the dead and become the King of the Underworld's subjects, where they will live eternally—exalted above others—in His immortal kingdom. This is the end of the false world and the beginning of the true, eternal one.

According to legend, the King of the Underworld was once a mighty emperor in ancient times. To bring the world to a state of perfect eternity, He led His kingdom on a crusade. However, He was thwarted by the evil Tyrant Sun. Though He challenged this tyrant while still a mortal king, He was defeated. Yet in death, He attained true eternity and became the undying King of the Dead.

His followers believe that the world has not yet reached its perfect eternal form precisely because the Tyrant Sun still cruelly rules over it. But the King of the Underworld will one day rise again and launch another war against the Tyrant Sun—this time to win for real, to bring an end to the tyranny of light, and to usher in perfection.

“The King of the Underworld… the undying King of the Dead, the Forgotten King… quite interesting…”

After finishing the mystical text, Dorothy thought quietly. She now had a far deeper understanding of this deity than before—and many new thoughts were beginning to form.

“The King of the Underworld… there’s no doubt He’s a powerful deity of ‘Silence.’ If what this mystical text says is true, then in a sense… He is the ruler of the death-world, a true god of death.

“The King of the Underworld of the Nether Coffin Order… I've always found His nature hard to reconcile with the Great Soul of Shamanism—they seemed to overlap and conflict. But now the distinction is becoming clearer. Both could be called death gods, in a way. But the Great Soul governs death and reincarnation, whereas the King of the Underworld rules over the dead alone.

“From the shamanic doctrine, the Great Soul embodies reincarnation—all souls return to It after death and are then reborn into the world. It is the heart of all soul flow. But the King of the Underworld, in contrast, seems to halt that flow—preserving the dead as they are, possibly even as undead, to create an eternal kingdom where both king and subject enjoy immortality.

“In terms of doctrine, the Great Soul and the King of the Underworld are diametrically opposed. And yet… there is only one divine throne of Silence. So which of them holds it? Or… could they be twin gods born of a cocooned metamorphosis, like the Moth and the Butterfly? But then again, only the Dream God is known to possess such metamorphic phases. Do gods of Silence, lacking the cocoon stage, even have the potential for such duality?

“And another thing, the text says the King of the Underworld was once a mortal emperor who challenged the Tyrant Sun and failed? That would mean… He ascended from mortality? And this Tyrant Sun, surely that refers to the god of Lantern? But is it the Second Epoch’s Sun God? Or the Third Epoch’s Emperor of Light, Hyperion? Or perhaps… the current Savior or one of the Three Saints?”

Dorothy stared at the cover of the mystical text as her mind spun with hypotheses. She now had several working theories regarding the King of the Underworld’s identity. They weren’t necessarily all correct, but she did have enough to begin confirming at least some of them.

What Dorothy could now almost definitively confirm was where the influence in Frisland originated from, and the likely source of that mysterious force of forgetfulness.

In the mystical text, the King of the Underworld bore the title “Forgotten King.” Deities' titles almost always relate to their divine authority and symbolism. Given the strange phenomena occurring in Frisland, it was likely that the erasure was the work of the King of the Underworld's followers—the Nether Coffin Order. Dorothy had suspected this before, which was why she reached out to Beverly via the Literary Sea Logbook. Now, with Beverly having sent her this mystical text, her suspicion was all but confirmed.

Frisland is being manipulated by the Nether Coffin Order. Though she still didn’t know what exactly the King of the Underworld's followers had done in Stinam, it was definitely a divinely connected event—something major, not to be taken lightly.

Now that she had confirmed the matter in Frisland was tied to the divine nature of Silence—perhaps even to the supreme deity of Silence—Dorothy felt her heart quicken.

This meant her ritual’s next phase finally had a lead.

Originally, she had thought the Silence element in her advancement ritual, associated with the elusive Nether Coffin Order, would be the most difficult to trace. But now, here it was, laid bare before her.

“Looks like… I’ll be busy again.”

Rubbing her shoulder, Dorothy prepared to put the mystical text away and relay what she had just learned to Artcheli. But as she gave the book one last look, she noticed something on the back page, something that hadn’t caught her eye before.

It was a line of text, distinct from the handwritten poetic verses throughout the rest of the text. This one was printed, out of place in both style and format. It looked like… Beverly’s handwriting.

“Never attempt to fuse opposing divine natures—even with perfect preparation! Otherwise, Hyperion is your warning, and the current state of the Nation of Night is the consequence!!!”

Reading these words on the back of the text, presumably written directly by Beverly, Dorothy froze for a moment. Then, slowly, she narrowed her eyes and thoughtfully stroked her chin.

“Is this… a warning? A personal message from Beverly? She knows I bear the divine nature of the Heaven’s Arbiter… From my message in the Logbook, she likely figured out I was planning to interact with the King of the Underworld—to touch the divine nature of Silence. So she left me this?”

Dorothy analyzed it inwardly. She already knew Beverly’s identity wasn’t ordinary, and that she was aware of Dorothy’s Heaven’s Arbiter divine nature. But now she was more interested in the rest of this warning.

“Beverly warns against fusing opposing divinities… And the cautionary example is Hyperion and the Nation of Night. What’s the connection? Could Hyperion’s disappearance in history be related to this fusion attempt?”

Dorothy thought carefully. From other mystical texts, she’d gathered that the six divine natures of the present world might have originally been three in the First Epoch. In other words, what we now see as six were originally split from three primal sources.

The pairings—Chalice and Stone, Shadow and Lantern, Silence and Revelation—were once unified, only later fractured into opposing concepts. It was entirely possible that in the First Epoch, there were only three supreme gods—totems of the ancient Giants.

So after reading those earlier texts, Dorothy had speculated: If one could become a Pure-Color Deity, could one then go further—fusing the opposing divinities to become a primal main god, like those of the First Epoch? Perhaps such a being would far surpass even ordinary gods.

And in all historical records, the only god who might have ever possessed both opposing complete divine natures was the Third Epoch’s Emperor of Light, Hyperion. Besides being the Lord of Lantern, he had—by some unknown method—gained authority over Shadow as well. Dorothy had long suspected he might have tried to become a primal main god. Though the reason for his disappearance remained unclear.

“If Beverly’s warning is credible… then Hyperion’s disappearance may indeed be due to his attempt to fuse opposing divine natures. During his reign as divine emperor, he may have tried to combine Lantern and Shadow to ascend further. That would’ve required a massive ritual…

“But from what we now know, and what Beverly implied, that ritual likely failed. The result? Hyperion disappeared or fell. And the failure caused catastrophic side effects, possibly leading to the birth of the Nation of Night…”

Dorothy analyzed quietly. She remembered a past mystical text, on its reverse was a map of the now-vanished continent’s east, marked with an eclipse.

In First Epoch symbology, the eclipse was the totem of the original god of both Shadow and Lantern. So perhaps that eclipse was the sacred moment for such a fusion ritual…

“If that map was accurate, there may have been an eclipse over the eastern part of the main continent during the Third Epoch. Could Hyperion have conducted his ritual there? And then, the ritual failed. Hyperion vanished… and its effects spread, affecting a third of the continent.”

“Judging from Beverly’s tone, was Mirror Moon’s creation of the Nation of Night really just an act of containment? Was it a massive cover-up for Hyperion’s failed ritual? Two divine natures fused and failed… the resulting catastrophe could’ve destroyed the world. For it to be suppressed… what actually happened back then?”

As she pondered, a faint chill crept up Dorothy’s spine. She herself possessed a fragment of a main god’s divine nature. Though she couldn't wield it fully, she could still roughly estimate how powerful a complete divinity would be.

Even at her most conservative estimates, a Pure-Color Deity should be capable of rewriting or destroying an entire world with ease. If Hyperion had truly botched a fusion between two such divinities, the fact that the world still exists—losing only a third of a continent—was nothing short of miraculous. Perhaps they had strong enough safeguards in place… or maybe it was something else entirely.

“If all this is true, then the Nation of Night may exist solely to clean up after Hyperion. That failed ritual might have lingering aftereffects. Mirror Moon could be stationed there to manage it indefinitely. That might be why she can’t leave…”

“Who knows what really happened back then…”

With a quiet sigh, Dorothy stopped her train of thought. She carefully closed the mystical text on her desk, then took out the Literary Sea Logbook and turned to Artcheli’s contact page.

…

After communicating with Dorothy, Artcheli had finally uncovered the root of the problem: a city that had vanished, one tied to a Cardinal Saint. Such a matter demanded top priority in her investigations.

Due to the urgency of the situation, Artcheli needed to share this intelligence with the other cardinals—excluding Kramar. Upon grasping the seriousness of the matter, she immediately began scheduling private meetings with the other four cardinals.

…

Holy Mount, within a secluded garden.

Seated beneath a pavilion, Amanda wore loose casual robes, her brow slightly furrowed as she faced Artcheli, who had arrived unannounced.

"A place forgotten by all… and related to Kramar?"

There was a faint heaviness in her tone.

"Yes. This emerged during my investigation into the recent behavior of the Inquisition Cardinal. It’s a highly unusual situation, and I need to speak with you and the other three before we take any further action regarding Kramar."

Artcheli’s tone was as serious as always. Amanda fell silent for a moment, then turned to glance at Vania, who was standing respectfully nearby. Understanding the signal, Vania spoke up politely.

"Ah… then I’ll excuse myself—"

Before she could leave, Artcheli interjected.

"No need. Stay. It won’t hurt for you to listen in."

"Er… u-understood."

Vania was caught off guard, but after receiving a subtle nod of approval from Amanda, she remained.

Artcheli was well aware of Vania’s close relationship with Dorothy. The matter she was about to discuss had been uncovered in cooperation with Dorothy anyway. Since Dorothy already knew, there was no point in asking Vania to leave. On the contrary, this allowed Dorothy to listen in through Vania’s perspective, sparing Artcheli the trouble of later writing it all out in the Logbook.

Artcheli then began to recount everything: Kramar’s irregularities, the mysterious forgotten city in Frisland, and the findings related to Stinam. Amanda listened with increasing solemnity.

"You’re saying… Frisland?"

"Yes. The forgotten city, Stinam, is located in Frisland. You likely have no memory of it, but if you go look through your own region’s documents about Frisland, you’ll find numerous blank entries. That’s where Stinam should be."

Artcheli explained. Amanda paused, then responded in a serious tone.

"You’re right. I don’t remember anything about Stinam. But as for Frisland in general… I do recall something else."

Amanda’s words caught both Artcheli and Vania off guard. She then asked.

"Secrets Cardinal, you said the Inquisition Cardinal was investigating heresy in Frisland last April. Do you know what group he was investigating?"

Artcheli answered without hesitation.

"According to the records I obtained from the Inquisition, Kramar was sent to investigate the ‘True Saint Sect.’ He went there after receiving reports of their rampant heresy from the Frisland diocese."

Dorothy, listening remotely through Vania, heard every word.

She already had some prior knowledge of the so-called True Saint Sect, thanks to Vania. It was a heretical faction under the Radiance Church, one whose influence was second only to the Savior’s Advent Sect.

The True Saint Sect, or the Authentic Sanctity Sect, preached that the Holy Father, Holy Son, and Holy Mother—the Three Saints—were the Radiance Church’s supreme divinities, and that the Savior no longer existed. According to their belief, the Three Saints were not incarnations of the Savior, but the result of His fragmentation. They claimed the Three Saints were the true apex of divinity and that their love reached each believer directly, without need of intermediaries or interpreters.

Therefore, the sect rejected institutional authority, especially the Papacy. They held that anyone, regardless of status, could directly hear the Saints’ voices if they were devout. Everyone was their own pontiff, and divine interpretation should never belong to any single person or institution.

In short, the True Saint Sect opposed both the Papacy and the Cardinal Council. They rejected the strict hierarchies of the Church and accused the Pope of twisting the Saints’ words to claim dominion over the world.

While the Savior’s Advent Sect emphasized the importance of the Savior and rejected the Three Saints, the True Saint Sect did the reverse: they exalted the Three Saints and denied the Pope.

The Savior’s Advent Sect was clearly a heretical church external to the Radiance Church. It had its own organized system centered in North Ufiga, with a self-appointed interpreter and a strict ecclesiastical structure. In many ways, it could be considered a different faith altogether.

The True Saint Sect, on the other hand, lacked a formal structure. It grew parasitically within the Radiance Church itself, planting underground cells in existing institutions, drawing in clergy and followers through subtle proselytization. Like a creeping vine latching onto a great tree, it had even swayed high-ranking clergy in some areas. Compared to the Savior’s Advent Sect, the True Saint Sect was the Inquisition’s primary concern.

"So, you’re saying that in Frisland last year, there were heretical activities serious enough for Kramar himself to intervene directly?"

Amanda pressed further. Dorothy, having recalled the information on the sect, turned her attention fully back to the two cardinals.

"Yes. But I haven’t yet found detailed descriptions of how deeply the True Saint Sect had infiltrated Frisland. It’s possible that Kramar received oral orders with more specific intelligence."

Artcheli answered. Amanda fell silent once more, lowering her head slightly in thought. Noticing this, Artcheli asked.

"Did something come to mind, Redemption Cardinal?"

"Yes… The True Saint Sect and Frisland… That combination reminds me of something."

Amanda replied. As both Vania and Artcheli looked to her in confusion, she gazed up at the sky and began to speak again.

"Secrets Cardinal, you’re the youngest member of the Cardinal Council. There are many things you haven’t experienced… Over 400 years ago, the True Saint Sect had deep ties to Frisland."

"Four hundred years ago… you mean during the Muddy Stream War?"

Artcheli asked, frowning slightly.

Amanda nodded and continued.

"Many now believe the Muddy Stream War was simply a holy war between the Church and the Afterbirth Cult. But the reality was more complicated. While the Afterbirth Cult was our greatest foe, they weren’t the only one. Other heresies took advantage of the Church’s weakness to rise up, and during that chaotic time, many sects rebelled.

"The True Saint Sect, though less influential today than the Savior’s Advent Sect, was a massive force back then. Their reach extended across the Church, so much so that even members of the Cardinal Council were influenced by them."

"What?! Even the Cardinal Council was infiltrated?"

Artcheli exclaimed in shock.

Amanda closed her eyes briefly and then spoke slowly.

"The Cardinal Council of four centuries ago included the then-Redemption Cardinal Saint Amanda—Unina. The Holy War Cardinal Saint Hilbert—Angelo. And the Inquisition Cardinal Saint Kramar—Fabrizio. All three were members of the True Saint Sect. During the war, with the Pontiff ascended, they nearly seized control of the entire Church.

"They sent the other cardinals to the front lines, exhausting them in endless battles. Meanwhile, they remained atop Holy Mount, setting a trap to assassinate the returning Pontiff as part of their so-called liberation plan. But they failed. The Pontiff destroyed them and their followers. Only Unina may have escaped by using an foreign deity’s power—the other two were reduced to ash.

"Frisland was where Fabrizio once served as Archbishop. When the coup began, the entire Frisland Church had fallen under the True Saint Sect’s control. The rebellion there, along with others, struck the loyal Church forces hard as they fought heretics elsewhere, nearly collapsing the entire war front. Several cardinals even perished on the main battlefield in Ivengard.

"After losing on Holy Mount, Fabrizio fled back to Frisland—but the Pontiff pursued and incinerated him along with an entire city. Thus, Frisland became Fabrizio’s tomb.

"Upon returning, the Pontiff first quelled the internal rebellion, then led the Church to a narrow victory in the Muddy Stream War, though the Cardinal Council was nearly wiped out and had to be rebuilt from scratch…"

Amanda gazed at the sky, murmuring as she recounted the events. Artcheli’s expression grew increasingly stunned. Pressing a hand to her forehead to suppress the effects of cognitive poison, she muttered.

"So… this is the hidden history of the Muddy Stream War? I had heard rumors that the Redemption, Holy War, and Inquisition Cardinals had been slain by the Pontiff during the war, but the common version claims they were irreversibly corrupted by foreign deities and the Pontiff had no choice but to kill them… But the truth is, they were heretics themselves? And even tried to assassinate the Pontiff?!"

Artcheli, still bearing a look of astonishment, spoke. Amanda, after glancing around the quiet garden, slowly nodded.

“This was indeed the Divine Return Incident that occurred here on this very Holy Mount… Because of the Pontiff’s strict decree, unless you were a firsthand witness at the time, few have ever known the truth. Even now, within the current Cardinal Council, only a select few of us who were there remember it at all.”

Amanda spoke with a touch of solemnity. Listening to her, Artcheli drew in a deep breath. It was true. Amanda was one of the most senior cardinals in the current Council. Compared to someone as young as herself, Amanda certainly knew more.

“Whew… Thank you, Redemption Cardinal. But if, as you say, this information was sealed by the Pontiff’s orders, why are you choosing to tell me now?”

Artcheli asked, exhaling softly. Amanda replied with frankness.

“Times have changed. We’re in a delicate moment. If we handle things poorly, the Church could be plunged into real crisis. There’s no point in hiding anything. If this information can help you unravel the mystery in Frisland, then it should be said. I think the Pontiff, were He to learn of this, would understand.”

Her words were casual, but direct. Hearing them, Artcheli couldn’t help but pause—so this really was the kind of woman who dared strike Kramar in front of the whole Grand Cathedral.

“One last question. The Pontiff possesses the ability to see directly into a person’s heart. With such a power, shouldn’t it be impossible for betrayal to happen? How did those three cardinals manage to deceive Him?”

Amanda fell silent for a moment, then answered.

“That… puzzled me as well. In theory, the Pontiff should easily discern the innermost thoughts of any of us. No disloyalty could possibly escape Him. And yet, Unina and the others still succeeded in betraying Him.

“The only explanation I can offer is that their betrayal wasn’t a slow, gradual development—but something that erupted rapidly during the Pontiff’s ascension. It's a flimsy theory, I admit, but it’s the only one that fits what I saw…

“Though I was there when it happened, I didn’t hold a particularly high rank at the time. I didn’t have access to much. The only ones who truly know the full story are the Pontiff… and Unina, who is now a heretical cult leader.”

Amanda’s words left Artcheli deep in thought. The two spoke a while longer about further specifics, then Artcheli took her leave.

She had to begin speaking with the remaining cardinals. Her plan was to hold a small, private Council meeting the next day—excluding Kramar—to discuss whether action should be taken against him and what to do about the anomaly in Frisland.

During this whole conversation, Vania had stood by tensely, doubling as Dorothy’s ears and eyes, silently witnessing the secrets of the Radiance Church’s past.

…

“Phew… Who would've thought there were so many hidden layers to the Muddy Stream War. So Unina didn’t rebel alone—three out of six cardinals turned at once. That’s… something else.”

Back in North Tivian, within Green Shade No. 17, Dorothy sat at her desk, digesting everything she had just heard from Holy Mount.

“So… Frisland was once the stronghold—and grave—of the traitor Inquisition Cardinal, Fabrizio. One of the main regions of the True Saint Sect's rebellion… I wonder whether the current anomalies in Frisland are connected to him? What exactly is the Nether Coffin Order planning there?”

As she thought, she stretched her arms high above her head and rolled her shoulders, standing up from her chair.

“Now it’s just a matter of waiting for the Council to deliberate. If tomorrow’s meeting goes well, they might not only suppress Kramar—who opposes me and has his own issues—but also agree to send people to investigate Stinam. Best case, even a few cardinals will be involved. If that happens, I’ll have plenty of leverage…”

Dorothy calculated her next steps, then glanced out the window at the still-bright sky, thinking about what she should eat for dinner.

…

The moon set, and the sun rose.

A single night passed.

At the summit of Holy Mount—forever bathed in a sacred halo of light—daylight finally arrived.

As arranged the day before, Amanda, wearing her plain robes, arrived at the agreed meeting spot with Vania. The location was a secluded chapel atop the mountain.

But when Amanda entered the chapel, she saw only Artcheli standing alone, face grim. None of the other cardinals were there.

“Huh… Did I come too early? I thought I was running late…”

Amanda asked with confusion. Artcheli replied curtly.

“No, you're actually a bit late… They’re simply not coming.”

“They’re not? Did you fail to persuade them?”

Amanda asked, surprised. Artcheli shook her head slightly.

“No. Yesterday, I told them everything—about Kramar, about Stinam. I awakened them from their state of forgetfulness. They agreed to hold this meeting today. But when I arrived, none of them showed.

“I went to look for them again. And to my shock… they had forgotten everything. Stinam, our conversation, even my warning. All of it—gone.”

“…They forgot?”

Amanda frowned, focusing intently. Artcheli nodded grimly.

“Yes. Even when I re-explained everything, they’d forget it again within minutes. No matter how I phrased it, it made no difference. I couldn’t gather them. I couldn’t make them realize something was wrong.

“It’s… truly bizarre. I haven’t left the awakened state since yesterday…”

Amanda and Vania looked at each other, stunned. Then Amanda spoke, solemnly.

“To be honest, I almost didn’t come today either—I’d forgotten everything until I was reminded this morning.”

“What? You too? Then how—”

Artcheli blinked in disbelief. Then she turned her gaze toward Vania, who quietly admitted.

“Yes, Your Eminence guessed correctly. Amanda only remembered because I reminded her. As for me—I’ve been able to retain my memory because I maintain a certain… special connection with that person.

“It seems this force of forgetfulness is incredibly strong, so strong that only that individual can awaken those who’ve forgotten. But the awakening isn’t permanent; in time, even those reminded will forget again…

“You, Secrets Cardinal, have kept in continuous contact with that individual through letters, so naturally your memory has stayed intact. I too retain mine through our shared link. Amanda was indirectly reconnected through me, which bought her a little more time.

“But those other cardinals, who have no such connection—not even indirect—can’t retain even short-term memory of the matter.

“In this ocean of forgetfulness… only that person seems to be a lone island above the tide. Only by staying on—or near—that island can we resist the current.”

As Vania spoke with solemn clarity, both Amanda and Artcheli fell into silence.

They now understood: in this incident, they might not be able to rely on the support of the other cardinals at all.

…

Eastern Coast of Pritt, Tivian.

Early morning. In the harbor district of East Tivian, the dock bustled with noise as steam whistles blared.

Among the crowd, beneath the looming shadow of a large passenger vessel, stood a woman with deep brown skin and a curvaceous figure. Dressed in a simple long skirt and a sunhat, she held a large travel trunk and looked at her ticket.

“To… New Jacques… Whew… It’s been so long since I went on a proper trip… uuuugh~”

Yawning widely, Nephthys stretched to shake off her drowsiness. Just then, a breeze from the sea blew across the dock—and it carried her loosely held ticket away.

“Eh—eh—EEEHH?! Nooo! My ticket!!”

Watching it float away, Nephthys immediately broke into a sprint. Within moments, she managed to catch it and clutched it to her chest, sighing in relief.

“Phew… Thank goodness…”

But when she turned around—

Her suitcase was gone.

“…Eh?”

For a moment, one of Tivian’s protectors—the woman who once summoned the spirits of Pritt’s ancient kings—stood dumbfounded.

And from afar, watching through Nephthys’ perspective, Dorothy palmed her face and sighed with helpless exasperation.

“Sigh… And she’s nearly Crimson-rank, too… Honestly…”