Eastern coast of Pritt’s main island, Tivian. Tivian under the daylight sun, the radiant light rising in the sky. With the World Expo drawing near, the streets and alleys bustled with festivity. The long-awaited moment was approaching, and this vast city was fully prepared. Due to the World Expo, Tivian had recently seen a massive influx of visitors, both domestic and foreign. This caused the entire city’s food and lodging industry to boom. Numerous travelers gathered in Tivian’s various restaurants for meals. Now, during lunchtime, everywhere was crowded and bustling; without a reservation, dining in a good restaurant was almost impossible. Fortunately, Dorothy’s planning had avoided such issues. “It really is lively... Tivian. Back in Igwynt, I’ve never seen so many people all at once, or such a vast place filled with so many people. It feels... so full of life.” In a private room on the upper floor of an upscale restaurant, Anna—dressed in a light-colored blouse and long skirt—gazed out the window at the constant streams of vehicles and pedestrians, speaking with wonder. Having grown up in a remote city, she had never experienced the vitality of a metropolis like this. “There really are a lot of people in Tivian, but with the Expo going on recently, there are even more than usual. Honestly, not even the New Year gets this lively,” said Dorothy as she sat across from Anna, wearing a white top, a high-waisted black long skirt, and a lady’s veil hat, sipping tea as she calmly responded to Anna. “The expo, huh... It really is a grander event than any annual festival for a city, even a country. If held successfully, it must bring joy to so many people. I even get to join this rare occasion with you, Miss Mayschoss. “It’s just a pity... once this celebration is tangled up with hidden cults, it probably won’t end peacefully.” Anna looked slightly disheartened as she gazed at the festively decorated streets. Having been touched by the joyful atmosphere of Tivian, she had hoped, deep down, that this could simply be a mundane celebration for ordinary people—one she could enjoy during this precious journey with her teacher. Hearing Anna’s words, Dorothy took another sip of tea before gently setting her cup down and leaning back into the soft sofa, speaking with a hint of reflection. “Actually... if it hadn’t been tied to the mystical world from the beginning, this expo likely wouldn’t have been organized at all. Perhaps it was designed from the outset for some mystical purpose... which means it was never meant to be a purely mundane celebration.” Hearing this, Anna blinked in surprise and replied, somewhat incredulously. “For some mystical purpose...? Wasn’t this exposition organized by the royal government—by His Majesty the King himself? Then... what is His Majesty planning to do? Don’t tell me he’s trying to...” After what happened in Lue, Anna had grown especially wary of such matters, and unsettling thoughts quickly surfaced. “As for what Charles IV is planning—it's still unclear for now. But I don’t think he’s of the same ilk as Luer and the others. In any case, tomorrow’s expo will be extremely complicated. As it stands, our intel is still quite limited, and it’s hard to predict what might happen. That’s why I called you here—I need to ensure I have enough strength on hand to deal with whatever arises. “So... I’m sorry, Anna. You were supposed to be on a vacation, and now I’ve dragged you into this.” Looking at her, Dorothy spoke frankly. Anna, however, smiled and replied. “You don’t need to say that, Miss Mayschoss. Even if you hadn’t come to find me, the dangers hidden within this celebration wouldn’t just vanish—I would’ve encountered them sooner or later. You’ve given me a chance to be fully prepared and face the crisis proactively. I should be the one thanking you. Let’s hope we can successfully resolve it.” Hearing Anna’s words, Dorothy smiled and nodded in agreement. Then, she relaxed and continued dining with Anna. After finishing lunch with Anna, Dorothy sent her back to the hotel and temporarily said goodbye. That concluded this reception. Now she turned to the next one—after hosting her domestic friends from Pritt, it was time to welcome friends from abroad. … Afternoon, East Tivian, at Port District. At the edge of a bustling port intersection filled with people, horses, and carriages, stood a girl dressed in a brown one-piece dress, with long wavy hair tied with a large ribbon. At her side sat a large suitcase, on which a black cat lay licking its paw. The girl was curiously surveying the busy streets with wonder. “Wow... so many people... This is Tivian? The buildings here look taller than in Cassatia, and I’ve never seen this many people before...” Saria muttered as she scanned her surroundings with curious eyes. At her side, the black cat yawned twice, stretched his tail, and casually swiped a claw at a man trying to snatch Saria’s luggage, leaving a deep, bloody scratch that sent the thief fleeing in pain. “Hmm... Seems like there are more pickpockets here too...” Turning to look at the fleeing man, Saria commented. Then she pulled out a pocket watch from her clothes, checked the time, and murmured. “According to what I was told, the person coming to pick me up should be arriving soon. They said they’d come by carriage. With so many carriages on the street... I hope there won’t be a traffic jam.” Looking at the watch in her hand, Saria stood patiently, unable to hide her curiosity as she continued to observe the unfamiliar and vast city. She watched the flags and banners bearing the Expo emblem and Pritt’s national flag hanging everywhere. Many people on the street held or wore commemorative souvenirs that were freely distributed, and Saria, full of interest, went over to a nearby stall and got herself a small souvenir umbrella. “Silly girl, the weather’s clear—why pick an umbrella as a souvenir? Isn’t that a hassle to carry around?” Just as Saria returned from the souvenir stand with an umbrella, the black cat sitting atop the suitcase, lazily swishing his tail, muttered under his breath. Saria immediately responded in a hushed voice. “Hey, Grandpa, you don’t get it! I read about it before I came—Tivian’s weather is nothing like ours. It’s unpredictable! One moment it’s sunny, and the next it’s pouring. Picking an umbrella as a souvenir is totally the most practical choice!” Saria replied matter-of-factly to the black cat lying on the suitcase. Not long after her words fell, a luxurious carriage made of fine wood came rolling from the other side of the street and came to a stop in front of Saria. The carriage door opened, and a handsome young man dressed in a vest over a shirt and black trousers stepped out. With a polite smile, he spoke in Cassatian. “You must be Miss Fuchs. Please, get in. I’ve been entrusted by Detective to receive you.” With courtesy, the young man gestured invitingly and offered to carry her luggage. Saria instinctively looked at the black cat beside her. He leapt into her arms, and seeing this, Saria gave a polite reply. “Ah... then I’ll trouble you!” Saying so, Saria stepped into the carriage. Not long after, the young man, having secured the luggage in the rear, entered the cabin and sat opposite her. The carriage began to move, blending into the busy flow of traffic. “Your journey from Butterfly's Dreamland must have been tiring. Your room has already been reserved. I’ll take you to the hotel to settle in, and afterward we can discuss the details of your trip to Tivian. I represent the Rose Cross Order and have full authority to liaise with you.” The young man spoke with a polite smile, observing Saria still curiously admiring the cityscape through the window. Hearing his words, Saria turned her head and replied bluntly. “Thank you—wait, no! You must be mistaken. I came to Tivian alone this time, there’s no one else with me.” Saria quickly corrected his use of “you (plural),” but the young man didn’t respond right away. Instead, he simply kept smiling while remaining seated. The black cat in Saria’s arms, who had been lazily stretching, suddenly froze mid-motion. He stared sharply at the young man. “Such refined hospitality. Is this what they call Prittish grace? I suppose today I’ve seen it firsthand...” “Gr–Grandpa?!” Saria exclaimed, surprised that the black cat suddenly spoke. The young man, however, maintained his gentle smile and replied. “Miss Saria’s ‘grandfather’... a remnant of Butterfly's Dreamland. You and Miss Saria must be the last hope the Butterfly Deity has in this world. May I ask your name?” The young man spoke unhurriedly, and the black cat responded seriously and calmly. “My true name holds no meaning, and there’s no need to reveal it—especially not in front of a puppet like you. Behind-the-scenes agent of the Rose Cross Order, let me give you a warning: trust is mutual. I had Saria provide you with much precious information in advance, yet you still act with such concealment. You speak of courtesy, but isn’t this a bit too condescending...?” “So it really is a puppet...” The black cat stared at the young man and spoke bluntly. Saria looked at him with surprise. The young man’s expression remained unchanged, and he replied with a composed smile. “Sir Cat, you are absolutely right. When facing someone as forthright as you, we indeed have not shown sufficient hospitality. But rest assured, we never intended to deceive you. We are truly sincere in our desire to cooperate and communicate with you.” “Otherwise... I wouldn’t be here.” Just as the young man finished speaking, a clear and pleasant girl’s voice echoed inside the carriage. Upon hearing it, both the black cat and Saria froze. They turned to the source of the voice—and there, beside the young man, was a girl who had suddenly appeared at some unknown moment. She looked to be a little older than Saria, with long silver-white hair, a white blouse, and a high-waisted black skirt. Graceful and beautiful, she now sat with one leg crossed, examining something in her hand—a silver-engraved talisman, etched with the emblem of a sun disk, across which was slashed a crescent moon. “Ah... what a beautiful big sister. Wait—no! Who is this?! How did she just appear here out of nowhere? This behind-the-scenes figure of the Rose Cross Order... is she someone around my age?!” Saria marveled internally at the girl’s appearance. The black cat in her arms was equally stunned. “Was she... here from the start?! And I didn’t sense her at all... What ability did she use? The Rose Cross Order has someone with such a high-ranking Shadow ability? And... her appearance…” The cat’s thoughts ran wild—not only was he shocked that the girl had bypassed his senses, but her appearance also gave him a strong sense of déjà vu. He couldn't shake the feeling that he had seen her somewhere before. Recalling the earlier talk about the moon when Rose Cross Order had summoned him to Tivian, the black cat’s mind swirled with speculation. “Big sister, you are...?” “Hello, Miss Fox. I’m the one currently liaising with you—the so-called behind-the-scenes agent you mentioned earlier. You may refer to me as ‘Scholar.’” Dorothy smiled as she responded to Saria. She returned the silver talisman to her person and now faced Saria and the black cat—granddaughter and grandfather—with a gentle smile. Just as they had said earlier: since Saria had selflessly shared so much vital information about the Blackdream Hunting Pack and herself, Dorothy could not respond with evasiveness. So, this time, she chose to appear in person rather than using a corpse marionette as usual. “Scholar, huh... I didn’t expect such a major figure in the Rose Cross Order to be such a young girl. Truly, the younger generation is remarkable...” “Yeah, yeah! Scholar-sis looks so young—she doesn’t seem much older than Saria...” The black cat said slowly, while Saria chimed in with a nod. Dorothy smiled and replied straightforwardly. “Thank you for the compliment. But in this extraordinary world, appearances rarely tell the whole story. Just like how you hide your true self beside Miss Fox, I may look like this on the outside—but in reality, I could very well be some old monster who’s lived for centuries, you know~” “Eh?! Is that even possible?!” Saria responded with surprise to Dorothy’s teasing remark. The black cat, however, let out a long breath and then spoke with a serious expression. “Since you’ve revealed yourself, Miss Scholar, let’s skip the small talk and get to the point. “You summoned us to Tivian, saying the Blackdream Hunting Pack is planning a major operation here—possibly in collaboration with followers of the Lady of Pain. Now that some time has passed, have you managed to uncover the specifics?” The black cat spoke to Dorothy with a stern tone. Now that the person in charge was present, he didn’t want to wait any longer. He wanted answers—directly. “Our investigation is ongoing. While we’ve made some progress, it’s not yet enough to determine their exact objectives. However, what we can now confirm is that the Blackdream Hunting Pack and the Eight-Spired Nest have indeed reached a certain level of agreement and are cooperating. “Just yesterday, a friend of mine encountered the leader of the Blackdream Hunting Pack—Gu Mian—and is currently trapped within a divine fog inside the Forest. Do you have any way to rescue someone from that fog?” Dorothy spoke seriously as she looked at the black cat. Hearing this, the black cat’s eyes widened in shock. “Gu Mian… You’re saying your friend encountered Gu Mian?! And survived? Even more, they were specifically trapped by one of Gu Mian’s fog domains?!” The black cat's expression was full of disbelief. It had battled the Blackdream Hunting Pack for years and was deeply familiar with their leader's power. Gu Mian was a formidable, long-established Crimson-rank Beyonder. Even veteran Beyonders would barely survive an encounter without powerful life-saving measures. Now this young woman claimed a “friend” had faced Gu Mian, survived, and was deemed dangerous enough to be contained in a fog trap? What kind of friend was that? That powerful? Could it be a Gold-rank powerhouse from the Rose Cross Order? And if this girl casually referred to such a person as a “friend,” then what was she herself...? A thousand thoughts surged through the black cat’s mind. After a moment of contemplation, it looked at Dorothy and asked gravely. “Is this friend of yours… part of your society? Who is she? How did she encounter Gu Mian?” “Well… I’m afraid I can’t answer that in full. I can only say that she’s a collaborator, not a member of our society. Per her request, I can’t share any further details. What you need to know is—she’s very strong. If we can rescue her, she’ll be a great asset to us. “What we need right now is more information about Blackdream and that so-called fog domain along the Dream River. Please share as much as you can. Don’t worry—I’ve already taken precautions against cognitive poison. Speak freely.” Dorothy answered plainly as she looked at the black cat. After a brief silence, the cat nodded slightly and spoke seriously. “Gu Mian… was once one of the three revered ‘Grand Dream Prophets’ of Butterfly's Dreamland. He was the earliest and most deeply corrupted follower of the Moth. He was the central figure of the Moth Faction during the Blackdream Rebellion, and it was his betrayal that led to Butterfly's Dreamland’s destruction. “Originally, Gu Mian was a devout follower of the Butterfly. But for reasons unknown, during a meditative link with the Sacred Cocoon, he crossed a boundary he shouldn’t have and made contact with the slumbering will of the Moth—something no one was ever meant to reach. He was passively corrupted. Afterward, though he seemed normal on the surface, he was secretly splitting the Dreamland, growing his own faction. He used his status and influence to teach flawed theories to mid- and lower-ranking members, guiding them into subtle contact with the Moth’s will and corrupting them into secret allies. “After years of manipulation, Gu Mian had seized control of over half of the Dreamland in secret—even influencing many Cassatian nobles connected to it. Once everything was in place, he launched a massive rebellion, leading the Moth Faction in an attempt to seize power. Their surprise attack gave them a massive advantage. Many uncorrupted members were killed in the initial ambush, and Gu Mian’s faction held the upper hand from the start. War broke out among the Cassatian nobility as well, but the Moth faction retained overwhelming pressure. “During the assault, one of the three Grand Prophets was defeated, and the other, realizing the dire situation, wounded and desperate, chose to sacrifice herself. She forcefully awakened the Butterfly’s will inside the Cocoon to prevent Gu Mian from using the Dream Path as a conduit to massively corrupt others and further assist the Moth. “With the Butterfly’s temporary awakening, the remnants of the Dreamland repelled Gu Mian. The Dream Devourer Path was sealed destructively—struck by divine power at its very source. This spiritual backlash caused nearly all Beyonders along that path to instantly die from runaway spirituality. Though the rebellion was stopped, the Dreamland was obliterated, and the corrupted Moth faction perished with it. At first glance, it seemed like no one had won. “We had originally thought Gu Mian perished alongside his followers, consumed by the Path’s collapse. But shockingly, at the last moment, he abandoned the Path and used some ancient secret art to transform himself into an apostle-like existence—a mystical being beyond the Dream Devourer Path. “Decades after the war, he recovered and hunted down the weakened remnants of the Dreamland, fully seizing control of the Sacred Cocoon. From there, he began breeding pseudo-moths using forbidden techniques and gradually formed the Blackdream Hunting Pack—to fulfill his goal of bringing the Moth into this world…” With a grave voice, the black cat recounted the history of Butterfly's Dreamland and Gu Mian to Dorothy. Hearing this, a look of keen interest flickered in her eyes. “So this is the past grudge between Little Fox’s organization and the Blackdream Hunting Pack… I see. The reason the Dream Devourer Path declined, and why Blackdream uses a strange moth-symbiosis system to pass on its legacy—is all due to the final scorched-earth protocol Dreamland enacted during the rebellion… “By summoning divine force to strike the source of the Path, they annihilated every Beyonder along it. Brutal—but undoubtedly effective when faced with mutual destruction. “Yet they never expected that Gu Mian had a way to escape the Path entirely. So while the rebellion’s forces were wiped out, the most dangerous piece survived. And once he rose again, the Dreamland remnants had no power to stop him from taking the Cocoon... Just where did he get that secret art?” Dorothy reflected deeply for a moment. Then, looking up at the black cat again, she asked seriously. “I understand the general picture now, but I still have some questions. For example… did Dreamland know about the Moth’s will inside the Cocoon all along? And how did Gu Mian get hold of that secret art that transformed him into a mystical being?” “The upper echelons of Dreamland were indeed aware of the Cocoon’s dangerous dual nature. That’s why strict constraints were placed on meditation, with red lines clearly drawn to avoid contact with unknown regions. In theory, someone like Gu Mian—a Grand Prophet—shouldn’t have made such a grave mistake. His corruption and the origin of that ancient secret art remain a mystery. Perhaps only he knows the truth…” The black cat responded with unwavering seriousness. Dorothy gave a slight nod, then asked another question. “So... now that the Sacred Cocoon has been in Blackdream’s hands for over a century, do you know its current condition? Is the Moth about to emerge?” Hearing this, the black cat paused slightly before responding. “When Dreamland still held the Cocoon, we used techniques left behind by the former Lord of Dreams to guide the will within. Back then, both the Butterfly and the Moth were dormant, but the Butterfly’s will was stronger. However, after Gu Mian took over and spent centuries influencing it, the balance has reversed—the Moth is undoubtedly stronger now. “Throughout most of the Cocoon’s history, both under Dreamland and Blackdream, it wasn’t shrouded in fog. Dreamers could link to it directly. But now the fog has appeared—this signals that the internal struggle has reached a critical point. Mechanisms within the Cocoon, apart from the twin wills, have activated to block outside interference. I suspect these were safeguards left by the previous Lord of Dreams—final failsafes before the divine being within fully falls…” The black cat relayed what he knew to Dorothy, who listened silently and nodded along. Then she asked. “So, if someone from Blackdream manages to pierce the fog and reach the Cocoon again—what will happen?” “At this decisive moment… if Gu Mian reestablishes contact and supports the Moth, then the struggle between the Twin Gods will be resolved instantly. The already-dominant Moth will crush the Butterfly and immediately emerge from the Cocoon. That will be the birth of the most disastrous Lord of Dreams imaginable…” With a deeply grave expression, the black cat addressed Dorothy. Now that the person in charge was present, he had no intention of wasting more time—he wanted answers immediately. After hearing the black cat’s words, Dorothy couldn’t help but furrow her brows. “So if Gu Mian makes contact with the Cocoon again… a new evil god will be born just like that. The situation really is that dire… Could the reason behind Blackdream’s cooperation with the Eight-Spired Nest be to have the Spider Queen help them pierce the fog? But the Spider Queen is also known as the Goddess of Schemes… aren’t they afraid of being backstabbed?” Dorothy thought silently to herself, and soon after, she asked the black cat. “Then, do you know of any way to cross the fog? Or any way to rescue someone trapped within it?” “That fog is a divine manifestation of the Dream God. As far as I know, unless one has the guidance of a powerful Lantern deity, or commands of a superior-rank Shadow at a main-deity level, there is essentially no way to navigate through it. Right now, Blackdream is desperate to find the Cocoon in the Dreamscape, but both of those requirements are nearly impossible for them to meet. “I’m not sure what kind of deal they’ve struck with the Lady of Pain… but even with her power, I doubt she could pierce the fog. Though they’re both deities of Shadow, their divine ranks are on the same rank. Even though the Lady of Pain is currently stronger while the Dream Lord is weaker, one cannot dominate the other in essence.” The black cat continued its detailed explanation. Dorothy sighed inwardly after hearing this. She had hoped that Little Fox and her grandfather might offer a way to rescue Artcheli—but it seemed there was no way out for her, at least not anytime soon. “What a pain…” Dorothy lamented internally. Just as she was about to continue questioning the black cat, she suddenly felt a reaction from her Literary Sea Logbook—someone was contacting her. “Excuse me for a moment.” She politely addressed the black cat, then took out her Literary Sea Logbook, openly flipping through its pages in front of the black cat and Saria. When she reached the latest correspondence, she saw that it was from Adèle. “Little Detective, I’ve had people investigate what you asked. We’ve found nothing suspicious.” Dorothy paused slightly, then picked up her pen and wrote back. “Are you sure you didn’t uncover even a single unusual detail?” “Yes. My people looked thoroughly into the companies those two thieves worked for—there’s not even a trace of mystical activity. The whole case is completely mundane from beginning to end. They stole a batch of premium dye, and I’ve tracked it down—it’s just dye, nothing strange about it…” Adèle’s reply left Dorothy stunned. Last night, after learning from Gregor that the Eight-Spired Nest had taken interest in what seemed to be an ordinary case, Dorothy had asked Adèle—who had considerable underground influence in Tivian—to reinvestigate the theft. Now the results were in, but to her surprise, even Adèle’s efforts turned up nothing—just a routine theft, with no mystical elements involved. “Could it really be a completely mundane case? But why would the Eight-Spired Nest be interested in something like this?” Doubts swirled in Dorothy’s mind. After a while, she picked up her pen again and wrote back. “There’s really nothing even remotely suspicious about those two or their surroundings? Nothing that stands out at all?” “That’s just it—cases like this are incredibly common in Tivian. I even went to meet them myself. Their goods, the two of them, the people they interacted with—none of it seemed off. If I had to mention something noteworthy, there’s only one thing: “The stolen batch of premium dye was originally meant for a tailoring shop that supplies one of my favorite fashion brands. But because the thieves swapped in low-grade substitutes, the shop’s recent mid- to high-end clothing lines have had major quality issues. “Oh, and you might remember this—yesterday, when I was late for our meeting, it was because I went to that brand’s store to exchange clothes and ran into a crowd of people filing complaints. That brand’s problems all trace back to those two small-time thieves swapping the dye.” Dorothy stared at the written lines, and her body slightly stiffened. Her eyes widened as something clicked. “The dye… yesterday’s clothing quality issue…” Still deep in thought, Dorothy turned to look out the carriage window at the bustling streets. Amid the festive atmosphere, pedestrians were laughing and weaving through the crowd, waving various commemorative trinkets. Narrowing her eyes, she began piecing things together. With a few thoughts forming in her mind, Dorothy quickly picked up her pen again and wrote back in the Logbook. “Adèle… did you look into the low-grade dyes the thieves used as substitutes?” “I did, but no real findings. The dyes may be low-end, but there’s no trace of anything mystical in them. They're just ordinary goods.” Dorothy continued. “Then what were those low-grade dye goods originally intended for?” “I checked that too. Most of them were meant for factories and artisan workshops in the southern part of the city. These places produce low-end, mass-market consumer goods, so the raw materials they use are cheap and used in large volumes. Just to be sure, I even inspected a few workshops myself. Lots of workers, but nothing unusual from top to bottom.” Adèle replied again. After reading it, Dorothy paused, then picked up her pen once more. “Are those factories and workshops mainly producing World Expo commemorative goods now?” “Eh? How’d you know? You’re spot on. According to my earlier investigations, those producers all have contracts from the royal government. They’re running full tilt to make commemorative merchandise for the Expo’s free distribution. Most of the souvenirs you see all over the city came from those manufacturers. “The low-grade dye seems to be used for coloring clothing- and towel-type souvenirs. Besides that, there’s also tons of cheap pigments, fabrics, and other bulk materials involved—almost all of them too mundane to pose any mystical risk.” Not long after Dorothy sent her message, Adèle’s reply appeared on the page of the Literary Sea Logbook. Reading Adèle’s handwriting, Dorothy fell silent for a while in contemplation. She glanced up at the clear sky outside the carriage window, then picked up her pen again and wrote: “By the way, Tivian’s weather seems rather nice these days—there hasn’t been a single overcast moment. This kind of clear streak around this time of year isn’t exactly common, is it…” “Why are you suddenly talking about the weather? True, several consecutive sunny days like this are rare in past years, but this time it’s because of interference from the royal government. Anyone with some status in Tivian’s mysticism circles knows, in order to ensure good weather for the Expo, the government assigned military personnel to the offshore and surrounding regions of Tivian to control the weather using Aeromancers. “It’s said that they’ve been actively dispersing rain clouds that were supposed to gather over Tivian, which is why it’s remained clear lately. Apparently, even some bigwigs in the military have gotten involved in weather control to make sure everything goes smoothly.” Adèle’s words filled the logbook page one after another. After reading them in silence, Dorothy slowly looked up and turned her gaze toward Saria, who noticed and asked with mild surprise. “Eh? Scholar-sis, is something wrong?” “Miss Fox, can I have the souvenir umbrella you brought with you?” Dorothy looked at the little umbrella souvenir Saria had brought into the carriage with her and made her request plainly. Though a bit confused, Saria still nodded and handed it over. “This? Here you go—” Saying so, Saria passed the umbrella to Dorothy, who inspected it and partially opened it to examine the surface. Finally, on the outer side of the canopy, she found a distinctive emblem—an adaptation of the Pritt national crest, modified into the official logo of the World Expo. Without a word, Dorothy took a canteen of drinking water from beside the carriage door. She opened it and poured the water over the colorful Expo emblem. At first, nothing unusual happened. But after several seconds of rinsing, the emblem began to fade. Most of the colors printed on the umbrella started to wash away, leaving only a few shades clinging to the surface. And then, those remaining hues reformed into a completely different design. Where once there had been the Expo emblem, now a new image emerged: amidst a weave of intersecting lines, a winged insect spread its wings—a moth. “This... this is…” The black cat, who had been silently watching from the side, couldn’t help but mutter in surprise at the pattern suddenly revealed on the umbrella’s surface. … At that same moment, beneath the blazing midday sun, on the outskirts of Tivian—at the Devonshire family estate—a shadow was silently slipping through the premises. The shadow, cast by Devonshire blood itself, deftly navigated through numerous magical wards and entered an ancient study deep within the manor. Amidst the dusty room, Misha—clad in veils and gear—gazed silently at the many tomes documenting the deeds of the house’s patriarchs. “Ampere Devonshire… my ancestor, closely tied to the hidden truths of this kingdom. I wonder if I’ll find any valuable clues here…” With this thought, Misha began examining the surrounding antique books. After more than an hour of searching, she still hadn’t found anything noteworthy—until, tucked in the far corner of a shelf, she came upon a particularly dusty old volume. She picked it up, wiped it clean, and carefully read the archaic title: “The Mystery of the Roaring Lance’s Fall — The ‘Great Deed’ of the Mad King” … Time passed swiftly. Daylight faded. When the new night descended, even the last sliver of the crescent moon had vanished from the sky. The moon phase had reached the point of the Dark Moon—by tomorrow, the moon would be completely absent from the skies over the kingdom. Despite the nearly moonless night, Tivian was still teeming with life. With the influx of visitors, even the late hours were brightly lit, turning countless neighborhoods into streets that never slept. A celebratory atmosphere blanketed the city like never before. And that mood would reach its climax with the coming dawn. After three years of preparation—and tremendous investment of manpower and resources by the Pritt Kingdom—the World Expo was finally set to begin today. That morning, the radiant sun rose over the eastern sea, climbing higher in the sky. Tivian, reawakening from slumber, turned all its attention to East District’s World Plaza. Massive crowds surged toward it from all directions. Even if they couldn’t witness the ceremony directly, many Tivian citizens still flocked nearby just to experience the atmosphere. Corresponding to the city’s excitement, the sky above Tivian remained flawlessly clear, just as it had for the past few days. The uninformed citizens attributed the beautiful weather to the blessings of the Trinity, but only a few knew the truth—this was thanks to the tireless effort of the Pritt military stationed around Tivian’s periphery. In the eastern sea near Tivian, as the grand opening ceremony progressed within the city, a sizable naval fleet cruised the waters under full alert. Commanded by disciplined Pritt navy sailors, over a dozen steel warships cut across the waves. At this critical hour, the fleet maintained a vigilant patrol to ensure the absolute safety of Tivian’s coast—and, by extension, the Expo venue. On a massive, imposing flagship in the center of the fleet, a senior naval officer stood upon the bridge. Dressed in a formal admiral’s uniform, wearing a peaked cap and a sweeping beard of white, his countenance was firm and unwavering. The officers around him regarded him with utmost respect. This was none other than Admiral Spring, the supreme commander of Pritt’s navy and one of the military’s highest-ranking figures. At this pivotal moment—the most crucial in three years—he had personally come to oversee the defense of Tivian and safeguard the opening of the World Expo. Of course, the threats he guarded against weren’t limited to hostile forces. Weather itself—capricious and potentially ruinous to the Expo—was also under his watch. After scanning the distant sea horizon, Admiral Spring slowly looked upward toward the sky—where he beheld a scene few mortals could perceive. The sky above the sea had been split in two by an invisible boundary. On Tivian’s side: a vast, cloudless blue sky. On the offshore side: looming, oppressive black storm clouds, rolling thunder echoing within, ready to unleash a torrential downpour at any moment. These were the storm clouds that Spring had repelled using powerful wind manipulation—holding the tempest at bay to guarantee clear skies for the Expo. As long as Spring stood watch, Tivian would not suffer bad weather… Assuming, of course, Spring himself didn’t change his mind. As Spring gazed up at the eerie clouds above the sea, he suddenly paused. Then, in the very next moment, the pupils of his once-clear eyes darkened—and from within them, eight sharp spikes extended outward. His serious and resolute expression melted away. In its place appeared… a twisted, sinister smile. As the smile curled on Spring’s lips, the storm clouds in the sky—once tightly restrained—suddenly seemed to break free. In an instant, they surged past the invisible barrier, billowing in vast waves as they breached the red line. Amid the shocked cries of the soldiers aboard the warships, the thick black clouds poured into the clear skies above Tivian, flooding toward the distant city. “What… what’s going on?! How are the clouds getting through?!” “The wind barrier’s broken! The wind barrier’s broken! The storm is moving in!” “Admiral Spring, what’s happening?! Please maintain the wind barrier!” The officers around Spring shouted in alarm at the sudden development. But Spring didn’t react at all. He continued to grin wickedly, gazing at the invading dark clouds. At that same moment, the previously calm sea suddenly erupted into violent turbulence. Fierce waves surged as the ocean roared with explosive force. From the direction of the once-clear sky, a tremendous storm swept in. With a deafening howl, it whipped up towering waves and smashed them relentlessly against the proud fleet. Under the assault of wind and sea, the warships rocked violently; even the most seasoned sailors struggled to keep their footing. “What… what’s with this wind?!” “This isn’t natural wind!” The sudden gale sent shock rippling through the ship’s bridge. The officers cried out in disbelief. Spring, meanwhile, had lost the smile from his lips. In the distance, he saw the black clouds that had only just begun invading Tivian’s skies getting blown back and scattered by the powerful storm winds. Seeing this, Spring swiftly grabbed a telescope and turned it toward the direction of the incoming wind. In moments, he spotted a small figure high in the distant sky. Through the narrow field of view, he saw a petite figure soaring gracefully through the skies—a knight riding the wind. Bathed in radiant sunlight, the knight’s elegant, skirted armor gleamed with brilliance. Her full-faced helm was lowered, concealing her appearance. A broad cloak billowed behind her in the rushing wind. In her hand, she gripped a long lance, from which flew a slim triangular pennant that fluttered boldly in the gale. Upon closer inspection, the flag bore the ancient sigil of the Pritt Kingdom from centuries past. This was a knight from Pritt’s medieval age—an ancient warrior from bygone times. Now, she floated alone in the sky above the sea, facing the fleet and the massing black clouds head-on. It was as if she stood calmly before a vast army… awaiting the beginning of a great battle.