On the far western shore, deep within the heart of the Starfall Continent, lies the Ancestral Valley. In the depths of night, all beings within the Ancestral Valley had fallen into a solemn silence. The greatest and most significant ceremony of the Shamanic Church in this era was currently underway. A barrier radiating a faint white light enshrouded the core of the sacred land, with overwhelming prohibitions sealing the ceremony from inside and out, isolating it from any interfering factors. And the first thing to be excluded—was Kapak. “Please let me through! I really have urgent information to report to the True Spirit Shaman! This concerns a conspiracy by the Spirit Shamans who worship the Evil Great Spirit! The Western Great Shaman participating in this ritual right now is a fake! This ceremony cannot continue like this! If you won’t let me through, then at least deliver my message to the True Spirit Shaman!” Standing before a grand and towering curtain of pale light, Kapak pleaded urgently with several wild spirits guarding the screen. However, these spirits—particularly the one shaped like a lion—had no intention of listening to the pleas of a mere Black Earth-rank Shaman Apprentice. No matter how much Kapak begged, they remained unmoved. Eventually, bothered by his persistence, they growled threateningly. “The Great Wild Rite must proceed uninterrupted once it begins, or dire consequences will follow! No matter what your reason is, you must not disturb it. We are fused with this prohibition and embody its power—if you do not wish to die, begone, apprentice!” In a soul-language only those with spiritual abilities could understand, the wild spirits bellowed their warning at Kapak, their tone filled with unmistakable menace. Hearing this, Kapak froze, trying to say something but ultimately unable to, retreating a few steps in silence. From their words, he understood now that the Great Wild Rite had a mechanism that required its uninterrupted completion. This prohibition was the enforcement of that rule—an incantation of law. Though the wild spirits appeared intelligent and free-willed, they had already been absorbed into the spellwork, becoming extensions of the prohibition. They were its living embodiment and could not be reasoned with. Even if Uta were in his place now, he might not succeed in persuading them. Let alone someone like him, a mere Black Earth-rank apprentice. “There’s no way through… what… what should I do…?” Driven back into the forest, Kapak stared anxiously at the radiant barrier before him. He knew full well the evil conspiracy of the Nether Coffin Order was slowly distorting this most sacred of Shamanic Church rites—but he was powerless to stop it. A wave of deep helplessness surged through him. “Esteemed Scholar… I can’t get the warning to Teacher Uta… What should I do now?” Slumping to the ground, Kapak pleaded inwardly in desperation. The only one he could still turn to was that seemingly omniscient, mysterious “Scholar” who had helped him all this time. Kapak voiced his plea in his mind, but Scholar did not respond right away. It seemed even they found this predicament difficult and were unable to immediately devise a solution. Faced with Scholar’s silence, Kapak did not press further. He waited anxiously, afraid even that they might have no way out. That tense stillness lasted for a moment—until, just as Kapak was about to speak again, Scholar’s familiar voice finally returned within his thoughts. “Kapak… if I recall, wasn’t the reason Pasadiko didn’t dare kill you before because Uta placed some secret spell on you?” Hearing that voice, Kapak’s furrowed brow eased slightly. He immediately responded. “Yes… my teacher cast a secret technique on me, something other Shamans don’t seem to have. It’s a variant of the Shaman Soul Link ability—he connected our souls in part. As long as I suffer some drastic change—like death, or my soul being banished or destroyed—my teacher can sense it, and even perceive what I sensed right before it happened…” Kapak explained excitedly, describing the special power Uta had left on him. But as he spoke, he suddenly paused, a stunned look spreading across his face. Hesitantly, he asked. “C-could it be… Scholar, you want me to…” “First, find a tree. Carve the message you want to convey to Uta on it. Keep it concise.” The Scholar didn’t answer him directly, but simply gave him this clear instruction. Hearing it, Kapak froze for a moment, his expression stiffened. Swallowing hard, he replied in a trembling voice. “Al… alright…” With rigid limbs, he stepped toward a large tree, drew a dagger from his waist, and swiftly peeled away the bark, carving his message deep into the trunk. It didn’t take long. Once his inscription was finished, Kapak stood staring at it, his breath growing uneven. “Listen closely, Kapak. Now answer me one question: do you trust me?” Scholar’s voice echoed once more in his heart. Kapak’s eyes flickered. After taking a deep breath to steady himself, he answered firmly. “Hah… hah… I do… I trust you, Scholar. You’ve saved me countless times, and you are a benefactor to my tribe. I trust you with all my heart…” “Good… in that case, remember my words. Do not fear. I promise, you will be fine. You are a brave warrior of your tribe. So now, you must…” Back in her suite in Aarnstel, standing on the balcony, Dorothy’s gaze sharpened. In a whisper of resolve, she spoke within. “Take your own life.” Obeying her command, Kapak inhaled deeply, suppressing all emotion. His eyes fixed on the words he had carved into the tree as he raised the dagger to his throat—and in one swift motion, blood sprayed outward. “Urgh… ngh…” Clutching his bleeding neck, the young warrior of the Tupa Tribe stumbled and collapsed to the ground. As blood gushed from the wound, his consciousness faded. In his final moments, he struggled to lift his head, forcing his gaze toward the message carved into the tree—until his vision finally went dark. Lying in the forest, Kapak’s body went still, life slipping away. And at that precise moment of death, thousands of miles away, atop Dorothy’s ornate cane, the crimson gem embedded at its tip began to glow with a vivid, blood-red light. … Within the great prohibition barrier of the Ancestral Valley, at the heart of the ritual site. Surrounding the towering and magnificent totem pole, led by the True Spirit Shaman and the four Great Shamans, countless shamans from various tribes were rising and falling in chorus, chanting invocation phrases. With each cycle of chants, a powerful spirit-summoning force was steadily accumulating—until it reached the moment of being able to touch the divine. At the eastern quadrant of the totem pole, seated cross-legged at his designated place, the Tupa Tribe’s shaman Uta was faithfully carrying out his seemingly insignificant part of the ritual, just like any other ordinary shaman. Just as Uta finished another round of chanting with the Great Shamans and was about to begin his personal hymn of praise, he suddenly froze mid-motion. His weathered yet calm expression shifted into one of shock. “Ka… pak…” From deep within his soul, he had felt the surge of a message, one from his most cherished disciple. A wave of deep sorrow and grief surged from within the old man's heart. With his attention drawn away from the ritual, he couldn’t help but feel his vision blur with wetness. “Why… what happened out there… for you to go this far…” A sorrow that he hadn’t felt in decades filled Uta’s heart. Yet he also knew this was not the time for grief. His disciple had used his own life to deliver a message. He had to take it seriously. “Hoo…” Closing his eyes, Uta exhaled deeply to suppress his surging emotions. Outwardly, he maintained the flow of the Great Wild Rite. Inwardly, he began praying to the being whom he had once rejected out of caution and religious orthodoxy—the one Kapak called “Aka.” “... Gate and Key of Infinite Truth… O great Aka, Recorder of All Things…” Inwardly repenting his past rejection, Uta completed his prayer and was met with the voice that, until now, only his disciple had ever heard. “Greetings, Shaman Uta. I’m honored to speak with you directly like this. I am one of Aka’s servants—the one Kapak referred to as ‘Scholar.’ I am now communicating with you through Aka’s divine power. You may speak to me through your thoughts.” A voice echoed in his consciousness. Upon hearing it, Uta immediately responded inwardly. “What's happened to Kapak?!” “Do not worry, Shaman Uta. Your disciple is safe. Though he did experience death once, I was able to save him. He is a brave and capable warrior,” came the Scholar’s response—accompanied by a projected image. In that image, Uta saw Kapak in a forest, coughing and struggling to rise as he clutched his neck. He was examining the place where his throat had been slashed, clearly overjoyed to find the wound gone. Seeing this, a heavy weight dropped from Uta’s heart. He sighed in relief and calmed himself before replying to the voice. “Good… thank goodness… I didn’t expect you still possessed a secret method to defy death. Had I known this earlier, I would have listened to Kapak and prayed to your god Aka much sooner... “Well then, tell me quickly—what is the urgent matter? Kapak said someone wicked has infiltrated the Great Wild Rite and seeks to corrupt it? Who?” Now that he knew Kapak was safe, Uta switched into serious mode. Due to the urgency, Kapak hadn’t been able to carve every detail into the tree; his message had merely conveyed the severity of the situation and urged Uta to pray to Aka so that Dorothy could establish a direct channel of communication. “It’s a bit complicated,” Dorothy, speaking as the Scholar, began. “In short, the traitor embedded here is the Western Great Shaman Pasadiko. He is a mole planted by the Nether Coffin Order. Their plan began forty years ago, during the selection of the Western Great Shaman. And you, Uta, were actually one of their victims. Though you didn’t realize it. The rightful heir to the Western Great Shaman title… was you.” Uta was stunned by what he heard. “What? The Western Great Shaman… Me?” “I’ll transmit the details directly through Aka’s divine power in the form of a Revelation.” Dorothy said, and with that, she bundled the relevant memories and transmitted them into Uta’s mind all at once, sparing the need for lengthy explanations. In an instant, Uta felt a flood of information pour into his mind. He stood there in a daze. “The Western Great Shaman… Pasadiko… the Evil Great Spirit… Forgetting… I… urgh…” As the revelations settled, Uta felt a sharp, splitting pain in his head. Reflexively, he clutched at his forehead. Within that pain, something deep in his consciousness began rapidly surfacing—ancient, long-buried memories. What he saw felt like the emotional weight of finding forgotten childhood toys in a dusty corner of the attic. These were memories. Memories Uta hadn’t even known he had forgotten—memories of immense importance. Triggered by Dorothy’s revelation, they surged to the surface. He saw scenes of his past—his struggles and his journey—and remembered why he had embarked upon them. “Hah… hah… These… these are my memories? I remember… I remember everything…” Panting through the receding pain, Uta slowly lifted his head and looked toward the towering central totem pole. He murmured to himself. “I was… the most gifted disciple of the Sakha Tribe’s Shaman Xiedo… the youngest Shaman in the Western Tribal Alliance… I was a participant in the Dao Spirit Trials… Forty years ago, I completed all the trials. I was supposed to travel to the Ancestral Valley to complete the final step… but I forgot everything…” Clutching his forehead, Uta tried to stay in sync with the rhythm of the ritual even as he whispered to himself. His gaze now locked onto the Western Great Shaman, Pasadiko. “Pasadiko… that position… should have been mine. I clearly finished all the trials. I was already on the final journey. But I was… cursed by the Evil Great Spirit. And for forty years… no one, not even I, noticed… “Shameful… This is a disgrace to the entire Shaman Path!” Now that he remembered the truth, a rage surged through Uta’s heart—one not felt in decades. The fury roared like that of a young man. Luckily, his age and discipline allowed him to suppress it outwardly. Had this happened when he was younger, he might have exploded on the spot. “They didn’t just curse you,” Dorothy continued through the channel. “They likely gathered information or mediums from all the trial participants—or cursed the entire trial itself. Everyone but Pasadiko was afflicted. That’s why only he completed the process.” Uta nodded slowly as he calmed his anger. “Yes… there were suspicious signs near some trial sites. They didn’t kill us—probably out of fear the True Spirit Shaman might divine the truth… The Evil Great Spirit’s followers stole power from the Great Soul. The curses they cast using that power were so strong that no one noticed anything for forty years… Only divine power can challenge divine power… “Your Aka truly is a high and mighty deity…” Uta marveled inwardly. Dorothy, however, gave a modest cough and then redirected the conversation. “Let’s return to the matter at hand, Shaman Uta. Now that your memories have returned, you should clearly understand the gravity of the situation. We must stop the Great Wild Rite from continuing. If the Soul Burier Suun is summoned through this tampered ritual… the consequences could be catastrophic.” Dorothy spoke thus to Uta. After a brief silence, Uta responded in a solemn tone. "Once the Great Wild Rite begins... it’s difficult to turn back. A grand, high-level ritual of this scale isn’t something that can be stopped at a whim. I’m just an ordinary shaman—one insignificant link in this vast ritual. Even if I gave it my all, I likely wouldn’t be able to affect the overall ritual in any meaningful way..." "Then what about the True Spirit Shaman? Can you accuse Pasadiko before him and have him stop the rite and deal with the Nether Coffin’s infiltrator?" Dorothy continued to propose. Uta answered again, in a heavy voice. "That would be difficult too… For someone like me, an ordinary shaman, to suddenly jump out in the middle of such an important ritual and accuse a Great Shaman—who would believe me? Even if I could present evidence, this is the Great Wild Rite, not a trial. The True Spirit Shaman, as the presiding officiant, has neither the time nor energy to verify any of it. Most likely, he and the other Great Shamans would just think I’m causing a disturbance and throw me out… Besides, I have no absolute evidence at the moment that would instantly expose Pasadiko." Uta’s inner voice was grave. Hearing this, Dorothy furrowed her brow slightly. It was indeed a tough situation. Uta was currently just one among hundreds of shamans participating in the rite. His words carried too little weight. To suddenly level a major accusation during such a critical ritual—it was hard to imagine anyone would take him seriously. Truth be told, if Dorothy hadn’t directly restored Uta’s long-lost memories, even he probably wouldn’t believe her accusations against Pasadiko. Though Uta now understood that Pasadiko had a problem, proving it would take time—tests, verifications, indirect methods. During this key moment of the Great Wild Rite, the True Spirit Shaman clearly wouldn't allow for such delay. What Uta needed was a decisive piece of evidence—something undeniable that would immediately reveal Pasadiko’s treachery. And that, he did not have. For a time, Dorothy, seated on her balcony chair, fell into deep thought once more. Although she had succeeded in establishing communication with Uta, she now faced a new challenge. She had to devise another solution. “So… even you can’t do much to influence the current situation?” Dorothy asked in his mind. “Not even cause some big commotion during the ritual to draw attention?” Uta pondered briefly before replying. “If it’s just causing a big scene—I can do that. But what then? The True Spirit Shaman is watching. Even if I sacrifice my life, I wouldn’t be able to halt the ritual. Without decisive evidence proving Pasadiko’s guilt, all I’ll get for making a ruckus is expulsion.” His tone was firm, but Dorothy smiled faintly and replied. “Not necessarily. So, tell me—what exactly could you do to make a commotion during the ritual? Maybe I can come up with a better idea once I know. Shaman Uta…” Uta went silent for a moment, then began to explain his options to Dorothy. … While the Great Wild Rite progressed in steady order at the core of the Ancestral Valley, a fierce soul-centered battle was taking place on the outskirts. The moment the undead of Rachman, founding king of the Addus-Baruch Dynasty, descended upon Nephthys, a rare bloodline-based spiritual power reawakened throughout the mysticism world. Under its effect, the tiny bird recalled the ancient form of one of its distant ancestors. With a deafening roar, the massive ancient tyrannosaurus crushed the white bear of ice with ruthless stomps and tore apart the serpent of withered vines. Neither Meihag’s blazing flames nor Norris’ frigid frost could harm the giant beast born of the ancient age. The dark ice armor it wore granted it exceptional defense. “Damn it! What the hell is that thing?! Never seen anything like it!” “How can a bird become this kind of monster?! What kind of Chalice power is this?!” Faced with the overwhelming charge of the ice-armored tyrannosaur, Meihag and Norris exclaimed in shock as they dodged frantically. Atop the tyrannosaur’s head, Nephthys raised her ice axe and shouted. “Go, Dragon-Dragon!” Under her command, the dinosaur rampaged wildly—biting, tail-whipping, and stomping to launch a series of brutal attacks at Meihag and Norris. But the two, being much smaller in size—one able to skate, the other fly—had excellent mobility. The tyrannosaur’s strikes couldn’t hit them effectively. Taking advantage of this window, the previously shattered serpent and bear wild spirits began to reassemble. Nephthys immediately directed her tyrannosaur to trample them without hesitation, crushing their bodies just as they had halfway reformed. Then, a fireball came flying from the sky and struck the tyrannosaur’s back, but it was blocked by its dark ice armor. Though the blast scattered flames, the thick armor had few gaps for heat to penetrate. Even if a little got through, the damage it caused was negligible compared to the beast’s massive body. After taking a hit, the tyrannosaur turned its huge head, opened its gaping maw, and unleashed a blizzard skyward. A massive storm of extreme cold swept across the sky, catching Meihag mid-flight. His wings began to freeze rapidly. It was too late to melt the ice with flame. His only option was to fall, eyes wide with dread. “Damn…” Just then, Norris slid beneath Meihag and used his own abilities to drive away the storm. With reduced wind and snow, Meihag managed to thaw his wings. Just before crashing into the ground, he flapped them hard to slow his fall. Now gathered together, both of them wore grim expressions in the face of the tyrannosaur’s might. “This won’t work… That thing’s too strong… we won’t win like this…” “Norris, Pasadiko… it’s time for the final measure. Give me your souls!” Meihag called out to his allies. Startled, Norris and Pasadiko, whose soul was already inside Meihag, paused, then responded with grim determination. “Understood!” Norris abandoned his physical body and slipped out of his armor to merge with Meihag. Meanwhile, Pasadiko stopped the reconstruction of the two wild spirits he had been controlling, drew in their souls, and merged them into Meihag as well. Meihag then took out several syringes and injected himself. “RAAAAAHHH!!” Meihag began overloading himself, fusing numerous souls and pushing his body and spirit to their limits. His gorilla-like physique turned red, muscles bulging and veins protruding, steam rising from his skin. With the help of Chalice external stimulants, his body’s capacity was forcibly boosted. On the spiritual level, Pasadiko aided by fusing the collected souls—serving as the adhesive between them. Pasadiko, Norris—two Crimson-rank souls. Gorilla, Vulture, Radiance Knight—three White Ash-rank souls. Plus two wild spirits. So many powerful souls converged into Meihag’s body, transforming him rapidly. Under a cloud of rising steam, Meihag’s form grew monstrous as he roared. Seeing this, Nephthys immediately commanded her tyrannosaur to unleash another blizzard at Meihag. Snow met steam, cloaking the battlefield in a thick white fog. But from within that fog, a sudden violent gust blew through, scattering the frost breath entirely. And then, from the mist, a towering figure slowly emerged. A giant. This giant had the muscular bulk of a gorilla, clad in an icy armor similar to the tyrannosaur’s, complete with a helmet. One arm ended in a bear’s gaping maw, the other was entwined with a serpent made of withered vines. Massive wings spread from its back. At over thirty meters tall, it even dwarfed the tyrannosaur. “What… the hell is this? They… fused?!” Nephthys cried in disbelief. But there was no time to marvel. The Chimera-like Fusion Beast Giant flapped its wings and shot toward Nephthys with a storm at its back. Overwhelmed, Nephthys commanded her tyrannosaur to spray more ice breath, but the fusion giant—who also wielded control over ice—simply dispersed it in front of himself. The cold blast couldn’t stop the charge. The giant lunged at the tyrannosaur, clamping its bear-jaw arm onto its neck. With its greater mass, it slammed the tyrannosaur to the ground. As the beast struggled to retaliate, the vine-serpent arm coiled around its muzzle and then around its entire body. Even as Nephthys swung her ice axe to sever the vines, she too was entangled from all sides and bound tightly. “Ugh… not good…” With both Nephthys and her tyrannosaur restrained, the vines began burrowing through the dinosaur’s ice armor. Barbed thorns pierced its body, and then ignited from within. The tyrannosaur wailed in agony, writhing helplessly. From the inside out, it was quickly turning to ash. With the ice-armored tyrannosaur lost, Nephthys could no longer stand against the fusion giant. She only bore two Crimson-rank souls, while Meihag had forcibly overloaded himself with a horde of spirits. The battle between Soul Rebirth Coffins was one of both quality and quantity of souls. Wrapped tightly in thick vines, Nephthys found herself further frozen in place as layers of ice condensed on her bonds. From within the shadow of the frost-covered helmet, the Soul-Fused Chimera Giant opened its enormous, tooth-filled maw. Burning flames churned in its throat. Faced with the increasingly blinding radiance, Nephthys instinctively swallowed. … Meanwhile, within the ritual site inside the barrier. The vast spirit-summoning ritual proceeded in an orderly fashion, following its designated steps. On the eastern side of the ceremonial grounds, Uta was still participating in the chant sequence while simultaneously completing his secret discussion with Dorothy. “So you're saying… this could really work?” With a furrowed brow, Uta questioned Dorothy, who, appearing as Scholar, nodded and responded through the information channel. “As long as you can do as you said, briefly hijack the ritual to create a large-scale disruption… then absolutely, it’ll work. Trust me… This is the only viable method we have right now.” Dorothy spoke with confidence. After hearing her words, Uta silently nodded. Realizing that he truly had no other option but to believe in Dorothy, he began acting according to her previous instructions. Temporarily cutting off contact with Dorothy, Uta turned his full focus back to the ritual. Closing his eyes in silence, he carefully immersed his consciousness into the structure of the ongoing ritual. At that moment, Uta’s spirit delved into the inner workings of the ritual. He could see the exact position of every participant—from the peripheral shamans to the True Spirit Shaman at the core, and the four Great Shamans at the secondary focal points. Each of them, armed with specialized knowledge, formed integral parts of the ritual. Although they appeared to simply lead chants on the surface, their souls were deeply connected to the ritual, engaged in complex spiritual operations. Ordinarily, the deep-level manipulation of such a ritual required profound soulcraft knowledge—something only the True Spirit Shaman and the Great Shamans would possess. But among the five currently conducting the ceremony, there was in fact a sixth who had this knowledge: Uta, who had come within a single step of becoming a Great Shaman decades ago. Uta’s soul had already undergone all but the final trial of Great Shaman ascension. Its very nature was nearly equivalent to that of a Great Shaman. His academic grasp of the rite was firmly on their level. Thus, without anyone noticing, he began covertly impersonating a Great Shaman and infiltrating the deeper systems of the ritual—like a hacker breaching sacred code. His first attempt succeeded. The ritual itself misidentified him as a Great Shaman, allowing his soul to access its deeper layers. He now had the ability to create large-scale disturbances, but not enough to destroy the ritual outright. The core structures of the ritual, which determined success or failure, were still maintained by the True Spirit Shaman, and Uta dared not touch those. Even if he caused chaos, it would only be a matter of time before he was detected and forcibly removed by the five leading shamans. That meant the nature of the disruption he created had to be extremely precise. Sitting cross-legged, Uta cleared his throat and waited for the right moment. Soon, as another round of chanting concluded, the Eastern Great Shaman began a new cycle of invocations. “Call… sing forth… the ancient land of the Nether… answer our plea…” “Call… sing forth…” The crowd of shamans followed the Eastern Shaman’s chant, then shifted into chaotic individual praises. It was now time for the Western Great Shaman, possessed by Kudoshum, to guide the next sequence. Just as Kudoshum, inside Pasadiko’s body, began to speak, Uta acted. Using his infiltration into the ritual, he momentarily hijacked the role of the Western Great Shaman, beating Kudoshum to the lead chant. “The soul of the current Radiance Church Cardinal, Inquisition Cardinal Saint Kramar, is incomplete. His half-soul remains trapped in the Nether and longs for freedom. Let all souls be made aware…” “The soul of the current Radiance Church Cardinal, Saint Kramar…” The moment Uta delivered this completely unrelated chant, the ritual’s inertia kicked in—and all the hundreds of shamans present echoed his words in unison. At that instant, the five ritual leads, including the True Spirit Shaman, froze—instantly sensing something was wrong. Radiance Church Cardinal Saint Kramar? What does that have to do with this ritual? The shamans who had just repeated Uta’s line began murmuring in confusion and turned toward the Western Great Shaman. Kudoshum frowned and, ahead of the other three Great Shamans, began investigating the source of the anomaly. The True Spirit Shaman, as the ritual’s ultimate overseer, immediately located the root of the disturbance, Uta. His gaze snapped to Uta, his face becoming stern and furious. He opened his mouth to speak. “You—!” But just as the True Spirit Shaman prepared to denounce and eject the intruder, a formless power blanketed the entire ritual field. A wave of confusion passed over the True Spirit Shaman’s eyes. That same dazed look then spread to the three other Great Shamans, and eventually to all the other shamans present. In that moment of bewilderment, the entire gathering mysteriously forgot what had just happened. They forgot Uta’s strange chant, forgot the anomaly, forgot everything—and their minds reset to the moment right after the Eastern Great Shaman had finished his chant. And so, Uta once again led a new invocation. “The soul of the current Radiance Church Cardinal, Inquisition Cardinal Saint Kramar, is incomplete. His half-soul remains trapped in the Nether…” “The soul of the current Radiance Church Cardinal, Saint Kramar…” Having forgotten they had already said these bizarre words, the shamans repeated them again—like broken recorders. Then, following the same script, the True Spirit Shaman realized someone was sabotaging the ritual, prepared to eject Uta—and once again, the mysterious force descended. Everyone forgot what had happened yet again. And so it looped. Kramar’s half-soul, cursed by the Evil Spirit King, was a being erased from worldly memory. Anyone who learned of his existence outside of Dorothy’s direct influence would soon be affected by the Evil Spirit King’s divine power and forget him again. In this gathering, only Uta—linked to Dorothy—and Kudoshum, who belonged to the Nether Coffin Order, retained awareness of Kramar’s half-soul. All others forgot as soon as they heard it. This was why Uta could keep disrupting the ritual yet never be expelled: the moment the True Spirit Shaman or others recognized the sabotage, they forgot. As long as Uta repeated his loop, it would go on endlessly. And with it, the Great Wild Rite was now frozen, locked in a temporal loop most participants weren’t even conscious of. “Damn it… someone’s sabotaging things!?” Within Pasadiko’s body, Kudoshum grew anxious. He immediately recognized that someone was interfering with his plan. He could pinpoint the saboteur's location with ease and crush them like an ant. But he couldn’t. If he acted, the True Spirit Shaman would immediately notice. As a Great Shaman, there was no valid reason to suddenly attack a regular shaman during the rite. Divine curses couldn’t be cast at will—his intervention would not be forgotten the way Uta’s antics were. Still, this couldn’t go on. As long as Uta kept up this sabotage loop, the ritual would remain suspended—Suun the Divine Eagle would never be summoned. And that was the very goal Kudoshum had spent decades preparing for. For Kudoshum, the top priority was ensuring the completion of the distorted ritual to summon Suun. But if this standoff continued and something went wrong… He had no choice. He had to do whatever it took to get the ritual moving again. As Uta kept looping his disruption, Kudoshum fell into bitter internal struggle—until finally, he made a decision. “We’ll settle the score later…” Muttering inwardly, Kudoshum closed his eyes and used a secret soul-channeling technique to contact his distant allies—other members of the Nether Coffin Order. Then he spoke. “Hurry… remove the curse on Kramar’s half-soul! Now!” … At the edge of the Ancestral Valley, on the battlefield of souls. Nephthys, bound tightly by withered vines, stared unflinchingly at the flame gathering within the mouth of the Soul-Fused Chimera Giant. At the very moment it was about to be unleashed—at the peak of danger—she murmured a short phrase. “You… carry the bloodline of Addus, don’t you… “In the name of the King of Addus… I command you… to die!” The moment Nephthys uttered those words, the Chimera Giant—formed from Meihag’s transformed body—suddenly erupted with countless wounds across its frame. Gushing blood poured out like waterfalls, and amidst a pained wail, the giant staggered and fell backward. The flame in its mouth dissipated, and the vines restraining Nephthys loosened. Addus is a powerful nation with a population exceeding twenty million—an influential state in North Ufiga. For centuries, Addus maintained ongoing relations and intermarriage with other North Ufigan nations. Many people in the region, if they traced their ancestry back far enough, would find some connection to Addus. When Rachman founded Addus, he signed a collective blood pact with his citizens—a covenant passed down by bloodline. Over generations, the pact’s effects diffused beyond the nation’s borders, influencing even some foreign North Ufigans. Many, knowingly or not, carry the bloodline of Addus—and the influence of that pact. As a native North Ufigan, Meihag—born of the treasure-thieves society—also carried a sliver of this ancestral bloodline, passed down from unknown ancestors generations ago. And now, that faint bloodline was being activated by Rachman, the founding king of Addus, channeling it through Nephthys' body. “Damn it! Don’t underestimate me!” Though issued a death command, Meihag’s Addus bloodline was too diluted to fall fully under Rachman’s power. Furthermore, his current body and soul were powerful enough to resist. The bloodline’s effect, while disruptive, wasn’t fatal. After staggering briefly, Meihag’s giant body steadied, and with the Chalice-powered Gorilla soul enhancing his regeneration, his wounds healed rapidly—soon, he appeared unharmed. The bloodline command had freed Nephthys, but it was nowhere near enough to defeat the Soul-Fused Chimera Meihag had become. Regaining his stance, Meihag readied himself for the final blow. The withered vine serpent, bear-jaw arm, burning flame, gorilla body, icy armor, and vulture wings—all were primed. Meihag prepared to annihilate his opponent with overwhelming force. But at that moment, Nephthys—now free—slid backward dozens of meters, then raised her hand high toward the sky. From the forest behind her, Kapak, the Tupa tribesman youth, came sprinting forward under the glow of countless runes, shouting: “Miss Thief, I’m here to help you!” As he cried out, Kapak’s soul separated from his body, transforming into a blazing soul-flame that shot into Nephthys' hand. Without hesitation, she drew it into herself, then pressed her palm to the ground. At once, a massive Silence ritual array flared into existence beneath her. “Spirit Summon…” From the array, a brilliant golden light burst forth—so dazzling that even the charging Chimera Giant recoiled. Within that radiance, a solemn figure slowly materialized—wearing dignified robes, a broad crown, and bearing an expression of scorn and authority devoid of fear. The half-soul of Inquisition Cardinal Saint Kramar, one of the Seven Living Saints of the Radiance Church, head of the Inquisitor system—had returned to the world. “Don’t think… you can pull any tricks!” Enraged by the radiant apparition, the Soul-Fused Chimera Giant launched its final assault. From the bear-jaw arm came a storm of extreme frost; from the vine-serpent mouth came scorching flame. Wielding both frostfire and soulcraft, it struck at Nephthys. But Nephthys, gaze calm and unfazed, raised her hand. Kramar’s spirit dissolved into golden soul-flame, which she drew into herself. At that moment, the three souls already residing within Nephthys—Harald, Rachman, and Kapak—were forcibly expelled. Her dark ice armor vanished, replaced by a translucent and ethereal robe of regality. A cardinal’s sacred crown floated above her head. A heavy tome of divine law opened before her. A spectral scepter manifested in her hand. Bathed in a soft amber glow, Nephthys slowly opened her eyes—her pupils shimmering with light. As she stared down the oncoming flame and frost, she raised her scepter and tapped it against the ground with quiet authority. “Silence.” Like a judge striking the gavel in court, the words resounded from the depths of her soul. A pure and sacred vibration rippled outward—banishing all sound. The howling frost and roaring flames vanished without a trace. The battlefield fell silent. “What—” Shock gripped Meihag, Pasadiko, and Norris alike. They realized things were going very wrong, but it was already too late. “Bring forth the accused. All unrelated parties, retreat.” With a tone both cold and sacred, Nephthys’ pronouncement echoed across the space. As her words fell, the Chimera Giant’s body began to unravel—wings snapping, vines unraveling, ice armor shattering… As the titanic form shrank, numerous souls were ejected from within: the Gorilla, the Vulture, the Serpent, the Bear, and the Radiance Knight… At last, the giant reverted to Meihag’s original form, now kneeling, immobilized. Within his body, the souls of Pasadiko and Norris were sealed—struggling but unable to escape. “You North Ufigan wretch! Let me out! Get away now!” “My body… it’s not responding… what is this power…” “Reverse the spirit-summon—now! Or we’re finished!” Three Crimson-rank souls quarreled and thrashed within a single body. Nephthys coldly ignored their chaos. She glanced at the open Tome of Divine Law, then solemnly declared. “Cruel and wicked heretics… Murderers of the faithful, conspirators against mankind—your crimes are manifold and beyond pardon. You are hereby sentenced to the Soulburn Execution. Immediate enforcement!” The moment her judgment fell, an illusory flame of the soul ignited upon Meihag’s body, engulfing him in an instant. He collapsed, his form consumed in the spiritual blaze, screaming in agony. Within that punishment flame, the three Crimson-rank souls were burned without mercy. Their unified body howled and writhed—three distinct screams erupting from the same mouth, gradually growing faint… Eventually, as the flame died down, only Meihag’s body remained—apparently unharmed, yet now utterly motionless. An empty shell.