Within the hazy and illusory domain of the divine throne, amidst the ever-rippling sea of scripts, a towering pyramid-like pedestal loomed high. At its summit, atop a monumental throne, sat a silver-haired girl with legs crossed, a faint frown creasing her brows, revealing the deep contemplation within her mind. “Eh… What’s going on with you, Miss Dorothy? We had just reestablished our connection when it got cut off again… And now I can’t sense the location of that bloodline leaf of Charles anymore… There wasn’t even time to look at his memories.” Nephthys’s puzzled voice echoed in Dorothy’s mind through the information channel. Just moments ago, Dorothy had used the Divine Throne of Fate’s “Arbiter of History” ability to forcibly connect the bloodline of the Splendor King Charles—who had long severed all mysticism-based bloodline ties—allowing Nephthys, who was channeling the soul of Rachman, to trace Charles’s memories. But the moment the connection was established, an overwhelming force immediately severed it, leaving Nephthys with no time to conduct a bloodline trace. “So many years have passed… yet Charles’s bloodline is still under constant surveillance. What a cautious bunch… or perhaps my presence made them this wary?” Sitting atop the divine throne, Dorothy murmured softly. Since her senses were linked to Nephthys via the information channel, she had felt the force that severed the bloodline connection clearly. Though it lasted only an instant, Dorothy was certain—it was not a power any mortal could possess. “The one who severed the connection I just established is clearly the same one who severed Charles’s original link… Most likely the Afterbirth Cult. Perhaps even a deity intervened directly—after all, such deep-level mystical connections like bloodline links are far beyond what ordinary mortals can tamper with. “Which means, after severing Charles’s original bloodline ties, the Afterbirth Cult didn’t just leave it be—they’ve been monitoring his bloodline link at a high intensity. The moment it shows signs of reestablishing, or a new link forms, they instantly cut it again… “This suggests Charles likely hasn’t been completely destroyed, but is under the control of that cult, monitored constantly. I’m still not sure what form this control takes, but I doubt it’s anything pleasant…” Dorothy rubbed her chin as she analyzed the situation. Once she had a rough grasp of the current state, she began taking further action. “If that’s the case… then let’s see just how efficient your severing really is.” With a flick of her hand, countless glowing runes coalesced before her, transforming into phantom pages. These were pages of unofficial histories—all centered around Charles, and all filled with scandalous rumors. “The wife of the seventh Count of Dran had an affair with Charles, and their third son is actually his… Not bad… The real father of the ninth Baroness Brugietta was actually Charles… Right, right… The royal painter Brondo was supposedly the illegitimate child of Charles’s mother… That makes sense… Merchant Sork boasts that he’s Charles’s unacknowledged descendant… Frankly, I don’t think he’s lying…” One after another, Dorothy rapidly passed judgment on these tales born from various corners of Falano. Thanks to the kingdom’s liberal traditions and literary culture—not to mention Charles himself being a renowned philanderer—scandalous accounts about him were both widespread and diverse. Charles was, after all, the most talked-about monarch in Falano. With novelists and playwrights endlessly inventing new tales, and with gossip spreading by word of mouth, a myriad of unofficial stories emerged, most of them romantic or scandalous in nature. Many prominent families even sought to associate themselves with him. Thus, Dorothy had a vast trove of unofficial stories at her disposal. Right now, she was mass-legitimizing these tales, issuing divine judgments that rewrote Falano’s history in bulk—essentially retroactively cuckolding countless figures by divine decree—and in doing so, establishing new bloodline links for Charles’s bloodline page. “Keep trying to connect, Nephthys.” “Understood!” Outside the divine throne domain, in a secret underground ritual site somewhere in Flottes, ghostly green soul-flame flickered as countless candle flames danced in and out. A massive Silence symbol was etched into the dim glow. Seated in an array around it were many dazed-looking men and women, all dressed in the finery of high society. Nephthys sat at the center of the array. Upon receiving Dorothy’s command, she closed her eyes and began focusing entirely on her craft, channeling the power of Rachman’s soul to manifest it anew. These people within the array were all descendants connected to the scandalous tales of Charles that Dorothy had gathered. Using hypnosis, Dorothy had brought them here to participate in the ritual. While they originally had no real blood relation to Charles, Dorothy’s divine judgment had made them relatives. This allowed Nephthys to trace their bloodline memories. Indeed, Dorothy was now racing the Afterbirth deity—testing whether she could establish bloodline ties faster than the deity could sever them. As long as Dorothy’s pace outmatched the god’s, Nephthys would have the window she needed to glimpse Charles’s memories. “So fast… Miss Dorothy, the connections are being severed incredibly quickly!” Nephthys’s anxious voice echoed from within the ritual array, suggesting her tracing process wasn’t going well. Meanwhile, Dorothy, still judging history from her throne, also sensed something wrong. In terms of sheer speed, Dorothy’s creation of bloodline links was slightly faster than the god’s severing of them—but not fast enough to create a significant advantage. And even though Dorothy had amassed a vast collection of scandalous tales, it was still a finite pool—insufficient to sustain this game of attrition. This contest between Dorothy and the deity of Afterbirth would end in failure unless she could open a large enough time gap for Nephthys to trace the memories. But her arsenal of tales was nearly exhausted. “Looks like… I’ll have to try this one…” Realizing the situation was dire, Dorothy changed tactics. With another wave of her hand, she dismissed the remaining unjudged tales, then summoned a new phantom page of runes. This time, the page was still an unofficial account—but unlike the others, which were all written in Falano script, this one was in another language: Prittish, a tongue far more familiar to Dorothy. “The so-called Splendor King Charles the Falano people are so proud of? He was actually a bastard! The son of our own King Laun! Back in the day, Charles’s mother, Princess Jenna of Akita, lived in Pritt for many years and had a long-running affair with King Laun. She only married King Sanks of Falano due to political obligations. But by then, Jenna was already pregnant with Laun’s child—Charles! So your beloved King Charles is actually a Prittish man!” Dorothy gave the tale a quick glance and then invoked her power again, legitimizing it as Fate Sovereign. Meanwhile, back in the Flottes underground ritual site, Nephthys suddenly froze, clearly sensing a change. She turned to a nearby figure cloaked in a hood. “Your Majesty, please prepare.” “…Alright.” Beneath the hood, the current Queen of Pritt, Isabelle, nodded solemnly. Nephthys then began the ritual, using Isabelle as the anchor to begin a bloodline trace. Using the royal bloodline of Pritt as her medium, Nephthys traced upward—and before long, she really did locate a bloodline link… Charles’s bloodline link. Having found it, she immediately linked to it—only for that familiar overwhelming power to strike again, attempting to sever the connection. Previously, this force had effortlessly broken all the bloodline links Nephthys had found. But this time, things were different. When the power came, the link formed through the Pritt royal line shimmered and flickered but did not vanish—the force seemed to strike air, failing to sever the connection immediately. Elated, Nephthys hastened her linking process. “It worked… So Prittish unofficial histories are the real key here…” Sensing the bloodline status through the information channel, Dorothy smiled faintly. Her backup plan had succeeded perfectly. Indeed, the tale she had just legitimized wasn’t from Falano at all—but from across the sea, from the land of Pritt. Pritt and Falano—these two nations had never gotten along. For nearly a millennium, conflicts and even wars had broken out between them from time to time. Due to clashing interests, the people of both countries, from rulers to commoners, harbored mutual dislike for a long stretch of history. This animosity gave rise to all sorts of bizarrely creative insulting literature and unofficial histories. From ancient times to the present day, Prittish poets and writers have considered mocking and slandering Falano to be a patriotic duty, producing works full of satire and ridicule—many of which became classics. Prittish people have always taken great delight in making fun of the Falano people. One such example was the unofficial tale Dorothy had just legitimized—a classic slanderous story fabricated by a Prittish writer. Since the Splendor King Charles was one of the most famous monarchs in Falano’s history, turning him into a foreigner—especially a Prittish one—was seen as the ultimate insult. Thus, this tale gained widespread circulation throughout Pritt. By legitimizing this tale, Dorothy essentially created a bloodline link between Charles and the Prittish royal family, the Despenser line. This allowed her to have Nephthys trace the bloodline upward through the Despenser family to King Laun, and then downward to Charles. The crucial detail here was that the Despenser bloodline had previously been granted divine protection by the Mirror Moon Goddess during the incident in Tivian orchestrated by the Spider Queen. That protection had been meant to shield the Despenser family for a century from the Spider Queen’s influence, now that she had taken Arthur. But once Charles became—through Dorothy’s manipulation—Laun’s illegitimate child, this divine protection extended to him as well. That was why the deity of Afterbirth didn’t immediately sever the newly created bloodline link to Charles. Because at that moment, the link was under the protection of a major deity. Although the Mirror Moon wasn’t a god of Chalice domain and thus held no particular advantage in the competition of bloodlines, she was still a major god. The Afterbirth deity would need significant time and effort to breach the Mirror Moon’s protective imprint—and that time was enough for Nephthys to successfully trace Charles’s memories. Thanks to the Mirror Moon’s bloodline protection, the Afterbirth deity couldn’t cut the link right away. And while Dorothy was technically interfering with a bloodline under divine protection, she herself was the Mirror Moon’s divine child—her interference was implicitly sanctioned by the same divine power, and thus went unopposed. “Finally… success!” In the underground ritual chamber in Flottes, protected by the Mirror Moon’s divinity, Nephthys at last successfully tapped into Charles’s bloodline page. From there, she could finally glimpse his memories. In an instant, she saw countless experiences from Charles’s past… She saw his investigation into the secrets of the Bourbon royal family and his attempts to decode the ancient legacies of Falano. She saw the young prince delving into ancient ruins across the land, and the ambitious king gathering every shred of evidence he could find using the full weight of his authority. She saw Charles’s distaste for altars and churches—how he often cursed high priests in secret for meddling in his decisions. His growing discontent with the church solidified his determination to reclaim Falano’s original power. This attitude earned him many like-minded allies who aided in his research. Though Charles knew that some among them harbored ulterior motives, he was confident in his ability to control them. She saw how, as he gathered more clues, Charles began traveling in search of even greater power. He visited one hidden Flower Sanctum after another. Eventually, after exploring nearly all remnants of the Flower Goddess legacy across the world, Charles seemed to have found some ultimate answer. With tensions between him and the church escalating to the breaking point, he urgently sought power that was perfectly suited for him. Thus, he decided to pursue this answer in person. Bringing along his most trusted followers, Charles set sail. Having compiled all his life’s research into the remnants of the Flower legacy, he had discovered a coordinate far out in the vast ocean. He sailed day and night toward it. After enduring countless hardships and surviving many crises, he finally reached an island overflowing with blossoms—a stunningly beautiful paradise. Nephthys saw Charles joyfully disembark onto the island. After unraveling a series of mysteries, he arrived at a luxurious temple nestled in the center of the island’s floral bloom. But just as he was about to enter the temple, an unforeseen calamity struck. The sky darkened. The sea roared as if in fury, unleashing its wrath in a cacophony of thunderous waves. A colossal tsunami, hundreds of meters tall, surged toward the beautiful island. Witnessing such terrifying might, Charles was both shocked and defiant. He fought back with everything he had. Yet, even as a high-ranking Beyonder, his efforts were utterly futile against the towering wall of water. His struggle was as pitiful and powerless as a mantis trying to stop a chariot. In the end, with utter despair, Charles—and the entire island—was swallowed by the devastating tsunami. His memories ended there. “Got it…” Back in the divine throne domain, a faint smile tugged at Dorothy’s lips as she viewed Charles’s memories through Nephthys’s eyes. Having finally achieved results, she waved her hand and dismissed all the projected pages, then gracefully leapt down from the throne. Standing before the monumental throne, Dorothy glanced around briefly. Then, her form began to fade until it completely vanished from the throne domain. At the same time, back in the real world—in a private high-tier box in the Flottes Theatre—Dorothy’s eyes began to regain a subtle glimmer, causing Adèle, who was seated nearby, to pause in surprise. “How is it? Any results?” “More or less… I got a few.” As she spoke, Dorothy stood from the sofa, popped the last of the pastries from the table into her mouth, glanced at the actors still performing passionately on stage, and then strode quickly toward the exit. Just before she stepped out the door, she seemed to recall something. Turning her head back to Adèle, she said, “You’re coming too.” Adèle blinked in surprise at her words but then nodded slightly and followed along. “Thank you, little detective.” With that, Adèle and Dorothy exited the private box and left the theater. Soon after, they reached the carriage Dorothy had parked outside. Once they were both seated inside, Dorothy snapped her fingers lightly. With a soft click, everyone on the street around the carriage suddenly froze in place—completely motionless. In that instant, the entire street had been placed under Dorothy’s hypnosis. At the same time, their carriage began a dramatic transformation. Both the horses and the carriage itself started shifting—the horses morphing into mechanical pegasi, while the carriage unfolded into a streamlined structure resembling an aeronautical design. Adèle couldn’t help but stare in amazement. “This is…” “A toy designed by the Craftsmen’s Guild. Pretty efficient for travel. We need to reach the destination as quickly as possible.” Dorothy replied while taking control of the mechanical pegasi. With a powerful flap of their wings, the entire carriage took off and soared into the sky. They quickly flew high enough to be invisible from the ground. As soon as they vanished from sight, the street’s hypnosis lifted, and all the pedestrians resumed their previous activities as if nothing had happened. “Has Her Excellency already departed? She seemed to be in quite a hurry…” Elsewhere in Flottes, on a regular city street, Isabelle—dressed in a plain hooded cloak and freshly emerged from the underground ritual site—glanced up at the glint of reflected light in the sky and murmured. “Mm… I mean, anything related to gods is bound to be important…” A voice responded. Turning toward it, Isabelle curiously asked. “Oh, Miss Boyle, you’re out too? Your face is so red—did something go wrong in the ritual?” Looking at the slightly flushed Nephthys, Isabelle tilted her head. Nephthys blinked, momentarily stunned, then stammered a reply. “Uh… let’s just say that’s the case. But it’s only a small issue—nothing you need to worry about, Your Majesty…” “I see…” After brushing off Isabelle’s concern, Nephthys let out a quiet sigh of relief, then turned her gaze skyward where Dorothy’s carriage had vanished, a flurry of thoughts racing through her mind. “Even though we managed to find clues… that guy Charles’s memories… weren’t they a bit much? Are all Falano kings like this?” Her cheeks flushed again at the thought. Because of Dorothy’s earlier legitimization of all those scandalous rumors about Charles, his altered history now included a massive amount of salacious, suggestive memories—so many that even with deliberate filtering, Nephthys couldn’t avoid seeing them. Having witnessed a substantial portion of Charles’s romantic escapades firsthand, her heart was still racing. “Ugh… Miss Dorothy saw all that stuff too, and she acted like it was nothing at all… Am I just too innocent? But she’s even younger than me…” Rubbing her cheeks, Nephthys drifted into idle thoughts under the sky of Falano, her mind wandering who knows where. … Riding in the cutting-edge transport they had obtained from Beverly, Dorothy and her companions moved at an incredible speed. In just a short time, they were already soaring out of Falano’s skies, heading straight south over the Conquest Sea. Guiding the mechanical flying carriage at high velocity across the vast ocean, Dorothy followed a trail of information she had glimpsed in Charles’s memories. She was heading swiftly toward the location of that island of blossoms. “So fast… little detective, where exactly are we going?” Watching the clouds streak past outside the carriage window and gazing down at the endless ocean below, Adèle asked curiously as another burst of acceleration pushed her back. Dorothy answered calmly. “To the place where Charles met his end.” As she spoke, Dorothy continued piloting the flying carriage. After some time of high-speed flight, they finally neared their destination. Dorothy began to slow down and reduce altitude. During the descent, the mechanical carriage began yet another transformation. The wings of the mechanical pegasi folded in, reins pulling them back as the entire carriage merged into a single cohesive mechanism. The roof of the carriage opened up and a large rotor blade unfolded, spinning rapidly, supported by several smaller rotors at the corners of the carriage. The vehicle entered hover mode and began a slow descent. “We’re… already here?” “Yes. According to Charles’s memories, the island he reached in the end was somewhere in these waters.” “An island?” Hearing this, Adèle leaned in closer to the window, trying to spot any sign of land below. But all she saw was an endless expanse of blue—no variation, no land in sight. “But… there’s no island down there. It’s just ocean.” Adèle asked, puzzled, and Dorothy replied with quiet certainty. “There is an island—at least, there used to be.” Just as she spoke, a sudden change erupted below. The once-calm sea beneath the flying carriage surged violently. A massive spiritual disturbance erupted from the ocean’s surface. Adèle, sensing it, instantly grew alert. “Watch out! There’s a Beyonder hiding below—and not a weak one!” No sooner had she spoken than several massive pillars of water shot skyward from the sea, curving and twisting midair. They warped and transformed into enormous serpentine shapes—giant water serpents writhing and snapping toward the small carriage in the sky. “Abyssal Church…” Adèle murmured gravely, recognizing the scene. Petals began to swirl around her, signaling she was ready to act. But before she could make a move— BOOM! Blinding white light streaked down from the sparse clouds above—dozens of thick bolts of lightning struck down, piercing through the water serpents and vaporizing them completely. “They’re… all gone?” Before Adèle even made a move, the ferocious water serpents had vanished without a trace. But before she could react, another phenomenon occurred. Around the carriage, countless translucent red chains materialized in midair, then shot downward at high speed, piercing into the depths of the ocean. The surging sea immediately calmed. After a moment of eerie stillness, the chains retracted—and at their ends were two bound figures. One was a middle-aged warrior clad in scaled armor, the other an elder robed in dark blue. Both were tightly restrained by the crimson chains, struggling desperately in terror—but to no avail. No matter what they tried, they couldn’t break free. “These are…” “Two Crimson-rank Hydromancers. Looks like the Abyss deliberately stationed them here as guards. There’s definitely something suspicious about this place.” Dorothy said calmly as she examined the two high-ranking Beyonders she had dragged up from the sea. Adèle was left completely dumbfounded. Crimson-rank Hydromancers… caught that easily? And this is the sea—their home turf! That didn’t even take a minute! It was like fishing them out! Adèle was stunned. She had known Dorothy was powerful, but not to this extent. Two Crimson-rank Beyonders taken alive in a single move—alive, not slain—which was much harder. Capturing them was far more difficult than defeating or killing them. Inwardly, Adèle mused. “Dorothy must already possess the power of Gold… maybe even beyond Gold—into the realm of god.” “Incredible…” Adèle whispered in awe. But Dorothy didn’t respond. Instead, she got to work. A faint gleam flashed in Dorothy’s eyes. The same light appeared in the eyes of the two captured Hydromancers. Their struggling stopped; their expressions shifted from panic to blank confusion, pupils rimmed with a faint purple glow. In just an instant, Dorothy had profiled both Crimson-rank Beyonders, subduing them like ordinary mortals and making them into her puppets. She then began reading their memories. “I see… So that’s where it is…” Finishing the memory reading, Dorothy’s expression shifted slightly with understanding. She released the chains, and the two Hydromancers fell from the sky into the sea, vanishing beneath the waves in a splash. But they didn’t remain submerged for long. The two soon rose again, now standing atop the calm sea, their dazed faces obedient and expressionless. Following absolute commands, they used their powers to still the surrounding waters and stabilize the surface. Then, they raised their hands and unleashed even greater power. Suddenly, the sea beneath the mechanical carriage began to churn and spiral. The water rotated violently toward a single point. Between the two Crimson-rank Hydromancers, a massive vortex began to form. With thunderous crashing, it grew deeper and wider, dragging more and more of the ocean into its spinning core. As the vortex spun faster, the center collapsed downward, forming a giant funnel reaching deep into the ocean’s abyss. Eventually, the vortex reached the seafloor. Sunlight, no longer blocked by thick water, pierced the long-dark depths and illuminated what lay hidden—and it wasn’t a desolate wasteland. There, on the barren seabed where even seaweed didn’t grow, stood the ruins of a manmade structure—collapsed columns, broken walls, a caved-in roof… Though dilapidated, the scale and intricate craftsmanship hinted at its former splendor. “Ruins beneath the sea? Is this… the island you spoke of, little detective?” Adèle asked in disbelief, staring at the structure revealed at the bottom of the vortex. Dorothy nodded. “Yes. I believe this is the place—the island Charles landed on at the end of his journey. It held an important remnant of the Flower Goddess. After unraveling countless wards and secrets, the island revealed itself to him. But in the end, both the island and Charles were submerged into the sea by divine power.” Gazing at the ruins below, Dorothy explained as she guided the mechanical carriage into a descent—down into the vortex created by the two Crimson-rank Hydromancers. “So… the one who ambushed Charles was really the Afterbirth deity—and the Abyssal Church was behind it.” Sitting in the carriage, Adèle watched the massive spinning walls of water and spoke her thoughts aloud. Dorothy nodded. “Exactly. From the bloodline memories, it seems Afterbirth had its eye on Charles for a long time. From the very beginning, Charles had already drawn their attention. They watched as he pursued traces of the Flower Goddess’s legacy, as he leveraged his extraordinary talent to gather clues and solve one riddle after another, progressing steadily on the path of uncovering her inheritance. At key moments… Afterbirth may even have helped him from the shadows.” Dorothy spoke calmly, and after hearing her explanation, Adèle furrowed her brows and responded seriously. “Afterbirth secretly helping Charles… They wanted him to uncover the secrets of the Flower Mistress!” “Exactly. After all, as a member of Falano’s royal family, Charles was already connected by blood to the Flower Goddess’s faith. That gave him easier access to all sorts of lost records buried in royal history and to relics of the Flower Goddess scattered across the land. His bloodline’s mystical resonance allowed him to study these things more effectively. “And beyond that, Charles was exceptionally talented, proud, and deeply resistant to the Church’s control. He craved power. That made it easier for Afterbirth to push him from the shadows using various means. They even went so far as to plant someone in disguise within the Church’s ranks—a so-called critic of church rule—just to get close to Charles and monitor or assist him in secret.” Recalling what she had glimpsed in Charles’s memories via Nephthys, Dorothy explained directly. Adèle, still frowning, continued. “Afterbirth Cult had people directly at Charles’s side… Did he not realize he was being used?” “No, he realized it.” Dorothy replied smoothly. Seeing Adèle’s deepening confusion, she continued. “Charles was a clever man. He realized very early on that something was off with the people around him and even connected them to the Afterbirth Cult—or more precisely, to the Wolfblood Society. “He knew the Wolfblood Society was using him, but he didn’t expose them, because he was also using the support they secretly offered. He needed the mystical resources they provided to further his research. He played dumb, pretending not to notice, while actually exploiting their help—planning to discard them the moment they outlived their usefulness. “Charles’s ultimate goal was to restore the Flower Goddess’s power and then incite internal strife between the Church and the Wolfblood Society—driving both out of Falano, so he could truly take control of the nation.” Dorothy laid it all out. Adèle, stunned by the revelation, eventually sighed and said, “That’s… certainly ambitious…” “Indeed. Charles was bold in his ambition, and arrogant too. That was ultimately his downfall. After years of research, he discovered the island that held the Flower Goddess’s secret. He then staged a plot—betrayed the Wolfblood agents around him, had the Church eliminate them, and once he believed he had shaken off surveillance, he sailed alone, hoping to seize the secret for himself.” Dorothy’s gaze shifted to the towering walls of the vortex. “But what Charles never anticipated was that he had been watched not only by the Wolfblood Society—but also by the Abyssal Church. The moment he sailed out, the sea had already set its gaze on him. As he dismantled the seals guarding the secret and brought the Flower Island into view, he also brought it into the sight of the Abyssal Serpent trailing him. “In the end, a merciless tsunami swallowed him and the island that held the Flower Goddess’s secrets. The Abyssal Church—or perhaps Afterbirth itself—took both Charles and the secret into their grasp.” As Dorothy finished, Adèle fell into silence for a moment before speaking again. “So his fatal mistake… was underestimating the Abyssal Church’s involvement?” “That’s one way to put it. Though the Afterbirth Cult is often referred to collectively as the ‘Three Sects of Afterbirth,’ they’re usually independent—or even hostile toward each other. A joint operation like this is extremely rare. Prior to this, the last known collaboration among them was over 400 years ago during the Muddy Stream War. “It’s generally believed that their recent collaboration only began forming in the past few decades, with concrete signs emerging in just the last two years. But based on Charles’s memories, their secret dealings go back a century. Their joint targeting of Charles was the first true act of their renewed alliance.” “Charles naively believed that once he left land, the Wolfblood Society could no longer touch him. He thought he had used them and then shaken them off. But what he never anticipated… was that the once-hostile Wolfblood and Abyssal factions had reached a silent consensus—regarding him.” Dorothy spoke in a soft, low voice, laying bare her interpretation of Charles’s downfall. After understanding exactly how Charles had failed, Adèle sighed softly and murmured. “I see now… Charles really did fall because of his arrogance. To think he could manipulate a cult backed by a true god… How naive…” As Adèle reflected, Dorothy said nothing more. She still had a few speculations about Charles she chose not to share. For instance, the Wolfblood Society had once systematically destroyed the Flower Goddess followers’ hidden Flower Sanctums. Yet neither the devoured followers nor the devourer, Borgst, ever understood how the Wolfblood Society knew the precise locations of those sanctuaries. Now, the answer seemed clear: Charles. After the tsunami, the Abyssal Church clearly hadn’t killed Charles—but instead controlled him by some means and extracted the Flower Sanctum locations from his mind. Following the information received from the Abyssal Church, the Wolfblood Society sent agents to destroy each one and hunt for the Crimson Holy Mother. This continued until Borgst consumed too many Flower Dancers and began to unravel. However, the extraction process likely wasn’t smooth. Afterbirth hadn’t been able to pull all the information out at once. If they had, all remnants of the Flower Goddess’s legacy would’ve been erased a century ago. The fact that Borgst’s collapse happened only recently proves that the information was gathered slowly, over time. After all, those gods were entities of flesh and matter—not like Dorothy herself. With countless thoughts racing through her mind, Dorothy guided the mechanical carriage downward. Soon, it reached the base of the great vortex—where the island once stood, now submerged beneath the sea. She and Adèle stepped out onto the soft seabed. After surveying the area, Dorothy turned to Adèle and spoke solemnly. “We need to move quickly—before reinforcements arrive from the Abyss.” “Understood.” Adèle nodded. The very reason they came without elaborate preparations was to catch Afterbirth Cult off guard. During the earlier contest over Charles’s bloodline link, Dorothy’s success in extracting his memories would’ve been detected by the deity. It was highly likely that divine power was already gathering here. Those two Crimson-rank Hydromancers had likely been stationed nearby for that very purpose. Dorothy then began a careful scan of the ruins using her abilities. As she probed deeper, she could confirm the ruins still held strong traces of mystical energy. Though superficially destroyed, a refined structure of mystical construction had survived. “This feels… like a ‘Gate’—a door that requires a ‘Key’ to open. Constructed from multiple forms of spirituality and even divinity… A passage to somewhere else… I sense Chalice… and Revelation… But why is there also Lantern and Shadow? Where did these two come from?” Frowning slightly, Dorothy hadn’t expected this modest ruin to contain four distinct forces. Chalice and Revelation made sense—they matched the Flower Goddess’s nature. But Lantern and Shadow? How had those opposing forces become intertwined? As she pondered, Dorothy narrowed her gaze on the temple ruins, carefully studying the remnants of its design. “This structure… has a distinct Radiance Church style—but no, more precisely… it’s Empire, Third Epoch Empire… This is classic imperial architecture, and quite official in tone. Could it be that during the Third Epoch, the worship of Abundance leaned toward imperial design?” She analyzed internally, but then Adèle suddenly spoke up. “I… feel something here…” “Feel? What do you mean?” Dorothy turned to her, curious. Adèle walked across the muddy seabed, glancing around with a dazed expression. “I keep feeling… like something is calling me. That I should go somewhere… but I can’t find the way. I feel… a deep sorrow in my heart… like someone is crying inside me—but I don’t know how to reach her. It’s… strange. And painful…” She placed her hand over her chest, speaking in a dazed, soft voice. Dorothy froze, startled by the words. “Like someone is calling… like she should go somewhere… I see. That’s the key…” Realization dawned on Dorothy’s face. She reached out to Adèle and spoke. “Adèle, take my hand. And don’t resist.” Adèle hesitated for a second, but then placed her hand in Dorothy’s without question. At that moment, violet light burst from Dorothy’s eyes—and flared in Adèle’s eyes as well. A gentle violet glow enveloped her entire body. “This is…” Before Adèle could finish, the glow around her intensified. In a flash, her body shattered into countless tiny symbols and characters. These glowing glyphs whirled in the air, then flowed toward Dorothy and merged into her skin. After fully absorbing the data form of Adèle, Dorothy turned toward the temple ruins—and a glowing, ethereal gate appeared before her eyes.