On a small satellite island near Moncarlo’s main island. Beneath the pitch-black night sky, sea winds howled as crashing waves repeatedly surged onto the beach. Amidst the sound of the surf, Dorothy slowly regained consciousness. As her awareness returned from the dream, she gradually opened her eyes to see the endless black ocean, a wide stretch of sandy beach—and a familiar figure standing nearby with her back turned. “Mm… yawn…” Just waking up, Dorothy couldn’t help but let out a yawn. The sound caught the attention of the figure ahead, and Nephthys, dressed in light, casual clothing, turned around with a bright smile. “Miss Dorothy! You’re awake. How did things go in the dream?” “Mmm… the dream? It went fine. Pretty smooth overall. Got the kill I needed… picked up what I needed…” Dorothy replied groggily as she rubbed her eyes. Hearing this, Nephthys couldn’t help but sweat a little inwardly. “Why do we sound like bandits when she says it like that…?” “A-anyway, since everything went according to plan, let’s get moving. That Crimson-rank sea pirate might still be out there looking for people. Better not linger in Moncarlo.” Nephthys urged, and Dorothy nodded quietly. She stood up to leave—but the moment she did, she noticed something odd. “Huh? Senior Neph… did you change my clothes?” Looking down at her loose-fitting outfit, Dorothy asked curiously. She remembered wearing a Moncarlo city guard uniform when she entered the dream, but now she was in a baggy long dress. “Yes, I did, Miss Dorothy. It’s mine. After I piloted your body to swim all that way, your clothes were completely soaked. I was worried the sigils would wear off and you’d catch a cold, so I changed you into something dry from my luggage, which I had brought along in advance. I didn’t touch any of your belongings, though—they might be related to the mysticism, so I didn’t want to mess with them.” Nephthys explained earnestly. Dorothy was momentarily stunned, her thoughts beginning to spiral. “Wait… I got changed… someone saw me… touched me… and it was a girl… so that means…” “Ah, is something wrong, Miss Dorothy? Did I misplace something when changing your clothes?” Seeing Dorothy’s blank expression, Nephthys asked in confusion. Dorothy quickly snapped out of it and waved her hands. “Ah—no, no, nothing! Thanks. I’ll return the clothes later. A-anyway, let’s get to our rendezvous point!” “Alright. I’ll go get my things.” Nephthys turned and walked off. Dorothy let out a sigh of relief and lightly knocked herself on the head. “What am I even thinking…? I’m a girl now too…” With that realization, she became more aware of how Nephthys’ clothes fit her. On her frame, the dress was extremely loose—especially in certain areas. She lifted the slack fabric in front of her chest and compared it to herself. Upon seeing the disparity, she involuntarily swallowed. “That… that’s quite a difference… I’m fourteen. Neph is eighteen. Can four years of growth really catch up to that…?” Shaking her head, she cleared away the idle thoughts and focused on the task at hand. Dorothy pulled her own clothes from her magic box, changed into them, and returned Nephthys’ outfit. After cleaning up all traces at the site and packing their things, Dorothy pulled out a spare magnetic flying carpet. With Nephthys, she took off, flying low over the sea to stay hidden as they rapidly left Moncarlo’s main island behind. Now that the mission was complete, Dorothy had no reason to linger. She didn’t want to give Edward another chance to track her down with some strange method. To ensure a clean getaway, she had made preparations in advance. During the day, she had used various means to steal a small offshore yacht, sailing it to one of the edge islands in the Moncarlo archipelago and anchoring it there for escape. The waters around Moncarlo were riddled with reefs—without a guide or knowledge of the area, it would be nearly impossible to sail out safely. But Dorothy had already found and recorded the nautical charts, so that wasn’t a problem. After flying for ten minutes against the sea wind, Dorothy and Nephthys found the pre-arranged ship. Dorothy released corpse marionettes to serve as crew, and they sailed into the moonlit sea. Her knowledge of sailor behavior, learned aboard earlier voyages, came in handy again. Navigating carefully, Dorothy avoided hidden reefs and active patrol posts. Only after they left Moncarlo’s territorial waters did she truly breathe a sigh of relief. Once the ship was fully out to sea, Dorothy returned to her cabin. She sat down, opened her Literary Sea Logbook, flipped to the communication page for the little fox, and began writing her mission report. … Under the night sky, far from the Moncarlo archipelago, a large passenger ship was sailing across the sea. In one of the ship’s cozy cabins, the little fox Saria sat on her bed, a thick book laid out before her, her expression tense as she anxiously waited for something. Not far from her, a black cat sat perched on the nightstand, a heavy look in his eyes as well. After completing her last task—hypnotizing the auction staff on Dorothy’s behalf—Saria had, under Dorothy’s arrangements, boarded the evening ship out of Moncarlo with her black cat. Dorothy knew that while Edward was searching for dream-type Beyonders, Saria absolutely could not remain on the island. “Oh! Grandpa! There’s finally news from Ed’s side! Their plan was a total success! They used Edward to find Withered Wing, and that guy got killed by the Rose Cross Order during his escape. The Dreamscale Censer is now in their hands!” Sitting upright on her bed, Saria spoke excitedly as glowing text appeared in her thick book. The black cat blinked in surprise before abruptly standing up and blurting out. “It worked…? They actually succeeded?! Withered Wing is dead…? One of those traitors’ precious pseudo-moths is gone just like that? They only had four in total… and now they’re down to three?” The black cat murmured in disbelief. Now that they had completely escaped Moncarlo and were no longer being watched by the Rose Cross Order’s unpredictable puppets, he finally dared to speak freely. Though the cat had agreed to let Saria participate in the Rose Cross Order’s operation, he hadn’t held high hopes for its success. From his perspective, recovering the Dreamscale Censer alone would have already been a major win. Who would’ve thought they’d actually kill Withered Wing—dealing a serious blow to the Blackdream Hunting Pack’s combat strength? “Are you sure? That was a fully matured pseudo-moth—a Crimson-rank mystical creature. You’re saying it’s just gone like that? Did the Rose Cross Order secretly send a Crimson to Moncarlo too?” With a grave expression, the black cat questioned Saria. After a quick exchange through her magical book, Saria replied. “Mm… I’m not really sure either. All they said was that after provoking the fight between Edward and Withered Wing, the latter was injured during battle. Then, while he was fleeing, they seized the chance to finish him off. They didn’t disclose any more details. But if that story’s true, and Withered Wing was already wounded… then even someone below Crimson-rank might have been able to kill him, don’t you think, Grandpa?” She tapped her chin thoughtfully with her pen. The black cat, hearing this, responded in a heavy tone. “The gap between White Ash and Crimson... is the largest divide in the Beyonder hierarchy. It separates the mortal from the transcendent. Only above Crimson do you enter the realm of the truly high-ranked. Even a severely injured Crimson-rank Beyonder… isn’t someone an ordinary White Ash can handle.” “The Rose Cross Order are known for their caution and meticulous planning. There’s no way they would attempt an ambush on a Crimson without having a Crimson of their own to cover the operation. And technically, this wasn’t just one Crimson they were targeting—it was three. There’s no chance they didn’t have a Crimson-rank as backup to clean things up…” The black cat’s analysis left Saria in deep thought. “So that means… back on Moncarlo Island, counting you as a special case, there were probably four Crimson-ranks present at the same time? That’s… terrifying. Thank goodness they didn’t all break into open combat, or we never would’ve made it out…” “And also… I’m really curious what the Rose Cross Order’s hidden Crimson-rank looks like… Could it be Lord Paarthurnax, perhaps?” Saria asked eagerly. But the black cat replied firmly. “No way. Paarthurnax is likely an apostle of the Akasha deity. Apostles only follow divine decrees—earthly sects and cults have no authority over them. And considering the current state of the gods, none have dispatched apostles to interfere in worldly matters in a long time. This Moncarlo incident doesn’t seem serious enough to warrant such intervention…” After finishing his analysis, the black cat watched Saria nod in understanding. Then he continued. “So… the Dreamscale Censer is in their possession now. Did they give us any specific instructions?” “Oh, that—according to them, the Dreamscale Censer is still in dreamform, so it’s currently stored with Lord Paarthurnax in the Dragon Territory. I’ll go retrieve it from there later. Once we have it, they’re asking us to restore it to its physical form. When they need to use it, they’ll borrow it through us, and we’ll send it to them via the White Craftsmen’s Guild.” Saria explained in detail. The black cat paused in thought, then nodded slowly. “In any case… recovering the Dreamscale Censer means our goal was a success. And if the Rose Cross Order’s intelligence is true—if Withered Wing is truly dead—then this strike has dealt a major blow to those traitors. That alone is great news for us. Perhaps it’s time we rethink our strategy—no more laying low. We may finally begin to regroup and act.” “You mean… Grandpa, you’re finally planning to reform the church?” Saria asked, eyes lighting up. The black cat didn’t answer directly but continued. “At the very least, it’s time to prepare. After this incident, our conflict with the traitors—and our alignment with the Rose Cross Order—is essentially set in stone. We may even formally ally with them. If we can rely on their strength, we’ll be able to confront the traitors openly once more.” “But of course, we’ll need to rebuild enough strength that even the Rose Cross Order won’t underestimate us. That means regaining Crimson-rank power. Without it, they won’t look at us seriously. Fortunately, with the Dreamscale Censer as a ritual anchor, returning to Crimson is only a matter of time.” “If we can restore our Crimson rank and form an alliance with the Rose Cross Order, then among the traitors, only one still poses a threat—Gu Mian, the one who’s nearly transformed himself into an apostle. He’s the only real concern left…” So spoke the Blackdream elder. His tone had become noticeably lighter as he spoke of a brighter future. Saria, delighted, exclaimed. “Yay! Finally, there’s hope again! I knew it—Lord Dragon and his people are reliable. This operation’s results are amazing!” “Grandpa! Grandpa! You always scolded me for being too naive and thoughtless—said I’d suffer for it. But look at how well I’ve done these past couple of days! I even worked with the Rose Cross Order investigator and dug up all kinds of critical intel! That’s got to count for something, right? You’re impressed, aren’t you~?” ʀᴇᴀᴅ ʟᴀᴛᴇsᴛ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀs ᴀᴛ Nov3lFɪre.ɴet Saria stood up, hands on hips, proudly addressing the black cat like she was waiting for praise. But instead, his expression darkened, and his fur bristled. “You should’ve left that part out! Just thinking about it pisses me off! What kind of reckless idiot talks to a complete stranger like that?! Believes everything they say, answers every question?! Let their guard down just because they were nice?! You told him all your capabilities in full detail! If he’d had ulterior motives, you wouldn’t even be standing here right now!” “I’ve taught you for so long, and you still act like a child! Did everything I say go in one ear and out the other?! Looks like you need some discipline!” With a yowl, the black cat leapt from the nightstand and tackled Saria, swiping his claws across her skin. Saria instantly began flailing and pleading. “Eek! Stop! Stop, Grandpa Black! It hurts! No more scratching! I’ll cut off your dried fish snack supply next time!”