In the wilderness on the western outskirts of Igwynt, three carriages raced down the desolate road, one in front being chased by two behind. The dim environment was intermittently lit by the flashes of gunfire, breaking the stillness with bursts of gunshots. Dorothy, lying prone on the driver’s seat at the front of her carriage, was multitasking with precision. She guided the undead horses down the winding road while controlling the corpse marionette Thomas on the roof of the carriage to return fire with a handgun. Bullets whizzed through the air, striking all around. Dorothy occasionally heard the thud of bullets hitting the carriage. Both sides, moving at high speeds with unstable footing, found it difficult to aim accurately. Most shots missed, and those that struck their mark merely hit the carriage, causing no significant harm. On top of the carriage, the corpse marionette Thomas continuously fired back at his former comrades. Due to the limited capacity of the revolver, he soon ran out of bullets. Dorothy deftly controlled Thomas to throw the empty gun back to her while tossing him a loaded one. Thomas caught the reloaded weapon and resumed firing while Dorothy used the opportunity to reload the empty revolver. This cycle of swapping guns significantly reduced downtime in their defensive firepower. Driving, shooting, reloading—Dorothy utilized her physical body and two corpse marionettes to manage these simultaneous tasks in a masterful display of multitasking. Since the marionette Thomas was returning fire from atop the carriage, the pursuers aimed their shots at him. While accuracy remained challenging, some bullets eventually struck their target. Thomas took two hits to the chest, but the damage did not impede his movements. Being merely a walking corpse, he remained functional as long as his vital control structures were intact and the “Cup” spirit continued to flow within him. With her "immortality cheat" activated, Dorothy maintained the upper hand despite her average marksmanship. Protected by extreme error tolerance, she managed to guide the already bullet-riddled Thomas to finally land a shot on one of the pursuing carriage riders. The bullet pierced the man’s chest, killing him instantly. Just as his body began to slump, Dorothy deactivated Thomas’s marionette control and extended the spiritual threads of the Corpse Marionette Ring to the freshly killed body. Infused with the spirituality of the "Chalice," the dead man’s eyes began to roll, and his body reanimated. Gripping the handgun still in his hands, he silently turned and shot a nearby companion atop the parallel carriage. Bang! The gunshot rang out, killing the second pursuer instantly. The close proximity and lack of vigilance made it an easy, lethal shot. Dorothy then tried to use the reanimated corpse to shoot the two coachmen driving the carriages, but they had already noticed the commotion. One coachman swiftly yanked the reins, causing the carriage to swerve. The violent motion disrupted the marionette’s aim, and the shot missed the coachman, instead hitting one of the horses. With a shrill neigh, the injured horse lost control and veered into the neighboring carriage. The two carriages collided, their reins entangling as they tipped over in a chaotic crash. Meanwhile, Dorothy’s carriage sped away into the distance. Amid the wreckage of the overturned carriages, two figures slowly rose—both were the coachmen. Despite their bodies being battered and bloodied from the crash, they stood upright, staring silently in the direction of Dorothy’s fleeing carriage. “We cannot falter…” “The mission must be completed…” “The time has come… to offer ourselves…” “To become the feast… to partake in the banquet…” Muttering these words, the two coachmen pulled out small, palm-sized pieces of aged parchment from their clothes. The paper bore intricate, arcane patterns, with an abstract symbol of a cup at the center. “With our bodies as offerings… we beseech the Blood Chalice…” As they chanted, they pressed the parchment against their foreheads. The papers ignited with crimson flames, burning away entirely and leaving glowing cup-shaped marks on their foreheads. The marks emitted a faint, eerie red light. Their eyes now glowed red. Ignoring their injuries, the two men began sprinting after Dorothy’s carriage at an incredible speed. On the racing carriage, Dorothy exhaled in relief, believing she had finally evaded her pursuers. She was contemplating where to stop when a sudden disturbance from behind caught her attention. Peering out the back, Dorothy was met with a shocking sight. On the road behind her, two figures were running at an unbelievable pace, rapidly closing the gap between themselves and her carriage. She recognized them as the coachmen from the overturned carriages. “What the hell… How are they outrunning horses on foot?!” Startled by the absurd scene, Dorothy acted swiftly. She reanimated Thomas on the carriage roof to fire at the two coachmen. Amid a hail of gunfire, one of them was shot down. However, the other had already gotten close enough to leap onto the roof of the carriage, startling Dorothy. “This can’t be humanly possible!” Dorothy controlled Thomas to point-blank shoot the attacker, but the coachman was faster. With a powerful swipe, he knocked the gun from Thomas’s hand and hurled him off the roof, leaving Dorothy without a shield. With her last line of defense gone, the ferocious coachman lunged toward Dorothy at the driver’s seat. Frowning deeply, she realized the dire situation. “Damn it… I’ll have to use Dragon Shouts…” Just as she prepared to unleash her trump card, a sharp whistling sound pierced the air. A long, gray-white stone spear flew from the distance, striking the coachman in the chest with precision. The impact sent him hurtling backward, pinning him to the ground. Stunned, Dorothy turned to the direction the spear had come from. In the distance, she saw several figures at a crossroads. Four knight-like beings, clad entirely in gray-white stone armor, stood like statues. One still held the pose of having just thrown a spear. At their center stood an elderly man. Dressed in simple clothes, an apron, and sleeves rolled up, with gray-streaked hair and a dust-covered hat, the man held a small, motionless gecko in one hand. It was none other than Dean, the janitor of Saint Amanda Academy. Smiling, Dean called out to Dorothy from afar. “You can stop now, Miss Mayschoss.”