Deep within the inner realm, in that shattered world concealing the ruins of history past, the fierce confrontation was still ongoing. Yet, at this moment, the situation on the ground had already begun slipping toward a grim outlook for Dorothy’s side. “Let me dismantle each of your petty tricks one by one… you conceited fool…” Amidst the vast ruins between towering buildings, at the heart of a massive advancement ritual array, Deer Skull held an ornate skull in his hand, his eyes gleaming smugly as he addressed Aldrich. At that moment, the skull in his grasp was radiating an eerie glow, as if fragments of spirituality were gradually shattering and dispersing into the air—evidence that the traps Aldrich had set within the skull were slowly being dismantled. Due to Deer Skull’s ability to directly read the number, location, and construction of the traps from Aldrich’s mind, his dismantling process was incredibly fast. “……” Faced with Deer Skull’s smug taunts, Aldrich remained silent, controlling his golems with full force as they launched assaults upon the array. But each strike was met with the firm resistance of Deer Skull’s skeletal army. Clearly, Deer Skull had prepared more than just the advancement ritual. He had also constructed defensive formations that fortified his undead forces. With these fixed positions bolstering his army, Aldrich’s golems found it near impossible to break through and stop Deer Skull in time. Behind Aldrich’s grim silence brewed an urgent, unspeakable anxiety and regret. Deer Skull, perceiving his emotions with his third eye, grew even more arrogant as he shouted. “Fume with regret! Writhe in panic! How does it feel to see all your cunning amount to ruin, you old fool?! “Look closely! Witness it! This is the realm you never truly stepped into! You shall be the first sacrifice beneath the might of my Gold-rank power, Aldrich!” With his triumphant declaration, Deer Skull finally dismantled every trap within the treasured skull. Sweeping through Aldrich’s mind to confirm there were no more hidden tricks, and ensuring the emotions he sensed were genuine, Deer Skull activated his advancement ritual—thus beginning his path toward the Gold-rank. In an instant, the massive array on the ruins erupted in brilliant light, engulfing Deer Skull as he ascended on the battlefield. And Aldrich—he could do nothing to stop it. … In another part of the vast, crumbling cityscape, the invading outsiders had already gained the upper hand in their battle—but the shadow of unexpected peril had silently crept in. Artcheli and her shadow clones leapt swiftly between alleys and high-rises, fending off mutated metals emerging from every direction within the hardened stone. Those darkened metals morphed into all kinds of weapons, each imbued with a different elemental force, but all were reduced to dust by Artcheli’s lightning-fast swordsmanship. Before this dust could fall to the ground, it was transmuted by an invisible force into bloody mist, then incinerated by the flames of Lantern sigil. In their battle against the Umbrum Gargoyle, Artcheli and Vania had clearly seized the advantage. After discovering a method that could effectively wear down the demon’s true body, the Umbrum Gargoyle was struggling to cope. Yet the will controlling the demon had no intention of giving up. Empowered by the godling’s blessing, it had gained a new power—the ability to peer into the minds of others. Amid waves of symbol illusions and strange, warped sounds, the memetic information passed from the “spy” child had already infiltrated the minds of Artcheli and Vania. Through the Eye of Revelation hidden within the stone, the Gargoyle’s will had found a method to reverse its current predicament. Artcheli had been able to truly harm the Umbrum Gargoyle primarily due to Vania’s transference ability. To protect her, Artcheli had drawn her into her own shadow, allowing Vania to influence the outside world from within it—safe from the Gargoyle’s attacks. On this battlefield, Artcheli had split into dozens of shadow clones. Only one of them actually contained Vania. If the demon made a desperate, all-out attack against the correct clone, it could destroy it and kill whoever was hidden inside. In other words, if the will controlling the demon knew which shadow Vania was hiding in—it could kill her. And that, unfortunately, was no longer a problem. With the godling’s blessing, the will behind the Umbrum Gargoyle could see through both Artcheli’s and Vania’s thoughts. It knew at a glance where she was hiding. Without hesitation, the Gargoyle launched a new surprise assault based on this insight. An axe of frost… a sword of flame… a spear of storm… a blade of surging water… Four weapons infused with intense elemental power emerged from walls and ground, forged from dark-golden tendrils. They shot toward Artcheli from different angles. Artcheli, upon seeing this, drew three of her shadow clones close and swung her sword rapidly to counter the attacks. But just then, a massive, spinning dark-golden drill shot out from the battlefield floor. Containing both wind and fire elements, it hurtled toward Artcheli with blistering speed and destructive force. Seeing this, Artcheli hastily summoned another shadow clone to shield against the attack. But just as the drill neared her, it feinted—suddenly veering off at an even greater speed toward a seemingly unremarkable shadow clone not far from her. “No—!” Artcheli’s eyes widened as urgency overtook her expression. She moved to intercept—but was pinned in place, still occupied with the four elemental blades. She couldn’t reach in time. All she could do was watch helplessly as the spinning dark-golden drill broke through the thin defenses and pierced straight into the targeted shadow clone—burrowing deep inside. Artcheli had no way to stop it. Not by action… Not by thought… … Elsewhere in the city, in another battlefield, ancient wills clashed against each other. After several exchanges, the two sides seemed still locked in stalemate. On a wide avenue, scorching heat and biting cold collided fiercely. A dwarf warrior clad in heavy armor swung a massive glowing warhammer with relentless force. Opposite him stood a dark-skinned girl in pitch-black frost armor. Her icy-blue eyes glowed with cold radiance, and a fierce blizzard swirled around her. In her hand, she silently wielded a soul-ice battle axe. This confrontation clearly favored Nephthys. The dwarf’s flaming warhammer barely left a mark on her ice armor, while each strike from her soul-condensed weapon sapped the hammer’s heat, dimming its glow with each blow. The dwarf had no means to fend off her assault. At last, when the dwarf’s warhammer shattered under the cold, he staggered back and slammed his palm into the ground. The earth beneath him and Nephthys instantly turned molten red—transmuted into a field of lava. As she sank into it, thick molten chains shot upward, binding her limbs. At the same time, an aerial assault began. A dark elf high above released a powerful tornado, and a warrior atop a high-rise melded his strength with it—creating a dazzling inferno twister. That blazing cyclone descended from the sky, crashing into the lava field below. The firestorm swept across the streets, igniting everything in its path. Flames burst from buildings, and the intense heat began to melt nearby structures and streets into flowing fire. Then suddenly, a violent surge erupted from within the cyclone—a storm of bone-chilling frost. As the ice spread outward, the firestorm vanished instantly. Snow blanketed the streets, extinguishing flames and solidifying the lava. At the heart of it all, a massive glacier now stood where molten mire had been. With a thunderous crack, the glacier exploded. Shards of ice blasted outward in a frigid tempest—becoming a storm of needle-like ice tearing in all directions. The dark elf tried to dodge but was eventually frozen solid and plummeted from the sky as a sculpture of ice. The armored warrior raised a fire-forged wall but was buried beneath collapsing buildings pierced by countless ice needles. The dwarf raised a superheated shield, but it quickly froze and shattered. The storm’s icy spears pierced both shield and dwarf alike, riddling him with gaping wounds. A sudden reversal—Taharka’s three marionette warriors seemed to have all been eliminated. But in the next moment, as Taharka’s power surged forth, the situation shifted once again. From beneath the fallen ice and buried ruins, the bodies of the armored warrior and the dark elf suddenly vanished, replaced by the gruesome corpses of several ordinary humans. Meanwhile, the dwarf’s body—riddled with gaping wounds—began rapidly healing, the injuries transferred to other marionettes. In just moments, the dwarf was restored to near-perfection. “What a nuisance…” Watching the scene unfold, Nephthys—standing at the center of the shattered ice mountain—frowned and muttered. At the same time, Setut, who was relying upon her body, shared a similar sentiment. Tightening her grip on the soul-ice battle axe, she dove back into the fight. But they weren’t the only ones expressing such frustration. In a hidden corner of the city, concealed in shadow, Taharka too had sensed just how troublesome his enemies were. “A Crimson-rank Body Possession Path, is it? No wonder it's hard to deal with… The power Setut can unleash through her surpasses even his own corpse… This is practically his complete state…” “Soul Rebirth Coffin… Gold-rank soul… and this barbarian’s northern warfare style—resolving this quickly is nearly impossible. Still, that ‘moment’ is almost here… and when it comes, all your efforts will be in vain.” “That Soul Rebirth Coffin you hid in the battlefield’s corner… did you think I hadn’t noticed? A millennium of death really dulled your senses, Setut…” With his hands clasped behind his back, Taharka’s eyes gleamed as countless thoughts flashed through his mind. At the same time, he was observing the ice-armored, axe-wielding possessed Nephthys—through the countless micro marionette marionettes scattered across the battlefield. As a pinnacle of the Spiritual Threads Path, Taharka commanded a battlefield surveillance web woven from endless microscopic corpse marionettes. His control over living marionettes and corpse marionettes had reached an almost obscene degree—even microorganisms could be used as his vessels. Thus, with the omnipresent surveillance of these micro marionettes, Taharka held complete informational superiority. The Nephthys who had been hiding in the corner of the battlefield, preparing to support Setut with spiritual possession, had already been found by Taharka from the very beginning—he had merely pretended not to notice. He didn't strike immediately upon finding Nephthys because he knew Setut remained a powerful elementalist. Even without his corpse body as a vessel, taking him down quickly would be an exhausting endeavor. Instead, Taharka chose to let Nephthys act—setting a trap through her in hopes of luring Setut into a devastating blow and settling accounts with this old acquaintance from long ago. So, while Nephthys was still preparing for possession, Taharka had already linked his spiritual threads to her. But since he knew Dorothy’s spiritual threads were also present within her, he avoided linking directly to her mind. Doing so would have immediately alerted Dorothy. Instead, Taharka connected his threads to some parasitic microorganisms within Nephthys’ body. If necessary, he could use them to instantly latch onto her core. After Setut successfully possessed Nephthys, Taharka was ready to pounce—but he refrained. Dorothy’s spiritual thread still remained. A direct link would spark a contest for control—and with Dorothy’s divinity-imbued threads, Taharka stood no chance. Not only would he lose, but his threads might be hijacked, exposing his body to divine infiltration through the spiritual network. Thus, although Taharka always had the opportunity to take control of Nephthys, he didn’t. He was waiting—for the moment Dorothy lost her divinity. Only then could he safely act. Otherwise, he’d suffer severe backlash. And now, that moment was drawing near. As his thoughts settled, Taharka turned his gaze toward the distant horizon, toward the direction where the massive eye loomed over the heavens. Upon his brow, a third eye—bestowed by divine blessing—had already opened. Through it, he could see clearly that neither Nephthys nor Setut had detected his machinations. This was to be a guaranteed ambush—all it required was time. … High above the endless cityscape, the thunder-laden clouds had dispersed. A grand, otherworldly violet eye now hung in the sky, gazing coldly upon the decaying and dying world below. At the edge of True Universe HQ, atop a towering skyscraper, the girl who once summoned lightning to shatter her enemies now stood trembling. Teeth clenched, she pressed her hand to her forehead. Her body swayed, her solemn expression barely concealing rising panic. “Damn it! My brain… can’t take it anymore!” “Disgusting thing! Stop invading me!” Clutching her head, Dorothy’s face twisted with strain. Her body wavered more violently. Around her, countless shifting characters flowed like fish. Countless hushed whispers echoed in her ears, and inside her mind, an unstoppable torrent of bizarre information surged in—mercilessly battering her thoughts. Against the seemingly endless onslaught of the godling’s corrupting memetic invasion, Dorothy could only throw the irrepressible fragments into her shadow brain domain. But soon, even that was filled to capacity. The overflow churned through her structured thoughts like a storm. “Ah… it’s… it’s enough…” “Please… no more…” Hands grasping her head, Dorothy’s knees gave way as she collapsed to the floor. Her twisted expression welled with tears. Though her immunity to "cognitive poison" protected her from the toxicity of the godling’s memes, the sheer volume of disorderly data was enough to inflict massive damage upon her mind’s framework. “Ah… so it seems… you’re finally hearing the divine words of the Divine Mentor. You’re finally receiving true revelation. How does it feel?” From afar, Hafdar descended upon a crimson dragon, his expression indifferent and aloof. Seeing him approach, Dorothy—amid confusion and agony—shakily raised one trembling hand, trying to summon lightning to strike him down. But only a weak spark flickered from her fingertip… then vanished. “Why… my lightning…” “Ah… so it’s not just your divinity. Even your ordinary powers are being sealed now? Poor, pitiful usurper… this is the price of blasphemy.” Watching her plight, Hafdar murmured with a hint of lament. Dorothy’s outstretched hand fell limp. In her eyes, for the first time, a new expression emerged: Despair. Her divinity was sealed. Her powers—sealed. Even her thoughts were being laid bare. There was no longer any space for schemes or tricks. In this state, Dorothy could no longer think of any path to turn the situation around. Her expression shifted from pain and tension to numb emptiness. Her voice trembled faintly. “Why… is it like this…” “It is simply as it must be.” Calmly, Hafdar answered her question of despair. Then, with a wave of his hand, the massive eye in the sky turned its gaze. That deep, unfathomable pupil locked directly onto the disoriented and broken Dorothy. “As a usurper, I acknowledge your abilities. You are indeed worthy of glimpsing the power of the Divine Mentor… “But now, this ritual of blasphemy must end. Return what you’ve stolen, before the sanctity of the divine.” As Hafdar spoke, the colossal eye fired a beam of dark violet light—enshrouding Dorothy entirely. Her petite body slowly lifted within the beam, rising ever higher… climbing toward the vast eye in the heavens above. “No…” Dorothy could do nothing. She was powerless to resist. Her dazed eyes saw the celestial eye growing larger and larger—until it filled her entire vision. After ascending rapidly, Dorothy finally became fully absorbed into the pupil of the colossal eye. Upon entering, she found herself in a chaotic space. After passing through countless indistinct veils, she emerged into a vast and dimly lit domain. Within this space, what met Dorothy’s gaze was an endless ocean constructed from countless flickering characters, and standing amidst that sea was a colossal pyramid-like base. Atop the base stood a majestic divine throne shaped like an obelisk. Upon that throne, a grotesque, twisted infantile giant—its brain fully exposed—was curled up, its single eye split open within the brain, staring fixatedly in Dorothy’s direction. Dorothy had at last arrived in the divine throne domain… though perhaps not in the posture of a conqueror. “————!!!” Upon seeing Dorothy suspended in midair from afar, the godling upon the divine throne let out a sharp, shrill screech. The sound reverberated through the entire realm as if declaring its triumph. The whole space trembled with the creature’s jubilant cries. After that piercing shriek faded, the domain fell into silence once more. The excited godling then began its true task. From within its vast, exposed brain, countless sticky tendrils twisted and stretched outward. They writhed through the air, growing longer and longer like serpents, reaching toward the girl suspended above. It was time for the godling’s most crucial act: to seize Heaven’s Arbiter divinity within Dorothy, and transform this precious divine-blooded descendant of Mirror Moon into its marionette—to make her its most powerful and central priestess. Faced with the ever-extending warped tendrils, Dorothy’s expression showed no change. Her face remained fixed in despair and numbness. Confusion and emptiness filled her eyes. The crushing weight of hopelessness had already erased any resistance. “So… is it really all over…?” “No more moves left. So be it…” In this final moment, Dorothy slowly closed her eyes. And just then, a voice she found vaguely familiar echoed in her chaotic mind. “No more moves? No… that’s not quite right… There’s still one trick you haven’t used yet, isn’t there?” “Me? I still have a trick? I don’t even know what it is… When all thoughts are laid bare, what plan could still work in this world?” “Of course there is one… as long as the trick fools even yourself while fooling the enemy…” “Fool… myself? There’s such a trick? Wait… who are you? How can you speak to me?!” “Ah… You’re asking my name? Then let me introduce myself once again… I am Shepsuna, the Foreknowledge Gazer… This is the second time I’ve introduced myself to you, Honored One chosen by the Divine Mentor…” “Shepsuna… the second time…” “Indeed… and now, the time has come for you to remember everything.” Then, under that gentle and elusive feminine voice, Dorothy’s thoughts, in the midst of shock, underwent a dramatic change. … Time rewinds slightly—to before Dorothy and the others ventured into the shattered world, before she ever arrived at Whitelinburg, even before the coronation ceremony in Tivian began… Let us return to one afternoon in Tivian, to a secret basement beneath the Boyle estate, to the room where the golden scepter was kept. “So… you’re saying that while you were replenishing the spirituality of this scepter, you heard it calling out to something?” Standing in the underground chamber of the Boyle estate, Dorothy looked solemnly at the scepter before her. Nearby, Nephthys nodded emphatically. “Yes! Yes, I’m certain! When I touched this thing, I heard something shouting inside it—sounded like it was calling for Viagetta… something like Viagetta!” Nephthys spoke with conviction. Hearing her words, Dorothy curiously rubbed her chin, a glimmer of intrigue in her expression. “Calling out to Viagetta… interesting…” Murmuring to herself, Dorothy began carefully inspecting the scepter. After using several methods and discovering nothing unusual, she furrowed her brow and reached out—grasping the golden scepter with her hand. Immediately, Dorothy froze. In that instant, she suddenly sensed that within this golden scepter, there was something… a consciousness. And that consciousness… was eager to speak with her. … This… was a blank white void. Dorothy’s consciousness-formed self stood within it, gazing forward with a stern expression. Before her stood a slender figure—another projection of mind and spirit. “Who are you?” Dorothy asked bluntly. The figure slowly turned around, revealing a graceful form draped in a pure white robe adorned with golden ornaments. Bowing slightly, she moved her lips beneath a veil and spoke in a respectful, soft voice. “I am Shepsuna, the Foreknowledge Gazer… It is a pleasure to meet you, successor chosen by the Divine Mentor…” “Shepsuna?” Dorothy’s eyes widened slightly in surprise. She asked with doubt. “You’re one of the four Sage Kings of the First Dynasty… once a death pharaoh on the Foresight Path… You’re communicating with me remotely through this scepter? You managed to bind your will to it?” “No, no… not exactly. Strictly speaking, the one before you is not the true Shepsuna, but a replica—an imprint of her will. The real Shepsuna still rests in her ancient tomb, awaiting the destined end…” Denying it gently, this “Shepsuna” explained softly. Hearing this, Dorothy’s expression grew increasingly grave. “A copy of your consciousness? Not the real you? What are you talking about—explain clearly.” “To put it simply… the scepter you’re holding, the Revelation Scepter, has the ability to record everything. It once belonged to a priestly lineage descended from Viagetta, before being taken by Hafdar. My original self used certain methods to retrieve it from Hafdar and pass it into the hands of the Boyle family. During that time, she briefly possessed the scepter and used it to imprint and record her consciousness. That… is me. “I remained dormant for a long time—until recently, when the original Shepsuna awakened me, so that I might meet you and carry out the rhythm of destiny.” Dorothy froze at those words, then frowned deeply. “You mean… you’re a copied will of Shepsuna, hidden in the scepter all this time, just waiting for the right moment to speak with me?” “Precisely.” The woman claiming to be Shepsuna nodded slightly. Dorothy continued, her tone serious. “Then… what exactly are you trying to tell me with all this roundabout nonsense?” “What I must tell you is of a coming crisis. After you obtained the Divine Mentor’s divinity from Viagetta, a dark force began to converge atop the Throne of Fate. That being shares your same goal—to become the next Divine Mentor. And now… it has grown strong enough to interfere with the real world. It is about to strike at you.” Shepsuna’s warning was grave and clear. Hearing her words, Dorothy’s brows twitched slightly. She recalled the strange pull she had felt not long ago—during the divinity recovery in the Frost Realm. “Tell me everything you know.” … In the vast white space, Dorothy and the spiritual projection of “Shepsuna’s” will still stood together. By now, they had already shared a thorough exchange. Dorothy had learned of the origins of the godling seated upon the divine throne of Revelation, and of its intentions. Their conversation had progressed to discussing how to deal with the threat posed by the godling. “So… if I confront that godling directly in its domain, there’s a high chance it will use an even stronger Revelation power to seal my abilities… perhaps even read my mind… leaving me unable to execute any strategy…” After briefly summarizing Shepsuna’s earlier words, Dorothy spoke solemnly. Shepsuna nodded in affirmation. “Correct. After all, the godling is now seated upon the Throne of Fate. If you appear in its domain, you stand no chance in a direct contest of divinity. Therefore, before you begin that journey, you must find a way to counter this disadvantage…” “Countering mind-reading… heh… that won’t be easy,” Dorothy chuckled dryly. But Shepsuna continued. “Also… even if you find a method to counter the godling’s divinity, you must forget that method before entering its domain. In fact, it would be best if you also forgot this entire conversation with me—forgot ‘me’ altogether.” “Why?” Dorothy asked curiously. Shepsuna calmly explained. “Because only by doing so can the godling completely drop its guard. Only then will it believe it has full control over you—a helpless vessel—and expose a fatal weakness in its overconfidence. The godling is a divine aberration of Revelation, cautious by nature. If it realizes its carefully prepared abilities don’t work on you, it might not risk increasing its divine output or engaging you in a full clash. More likely, it would retreat with the throne, keeping its distance and biding its time—perhaps for hundreds or thousands of years—before striking again. But with the world in its current state, you no longer have centuries to waste. You must eliminate the godling while it still believes it is stronger than you—seize its divinity and the Throne of Fate—so that you can face even greater threats yet to come.” As Shepsuna respectfully warned her, Dorothy’s thoughts drifted back to the first time she hunted the Aurum Gargoyle in Falano—how the enemy fled at the first sign of trouble. “So, you mean… I need to appear weak, not even aware of my own countermeasures? And wait for it to drop its guard?” “Exactly. The godling craves the Divine Mentor divinity within you. In order to prevent that power from being intercepted or stolen by another, it will want to draw you close—bring you before the throne—and personally extract your divinity. That is the most secure course of action and aligns with the instincts of a Revelation-born aberration. “At that moment, it and the throne will be right before you—making retreat or escape nearly impossible. That is your best chance to strike. And for that moment to come, forgetting is essential. “As the godling peers into your mind from afar, you must truly believe you are powerless, that you have no options left. Only then will it feel confident enough to bring you to its presence…” Shepsuna’s voice remained full of deference. After hearing this, Dorothy fell into silence, then asked. “Then… I have to figure out how to counter its divinity on my own? Heaven’s Arbiter left no clues?” “In that regard… no. But as the Divine Mentor’s chosen successor, I believe you will find the answer in time.” Shepsuna’s tone was warm and reassuring. Dorothy shook her head slightly and then added. “What you’ve said so far is only your word. How can I trust you?” “Time will validate my foresight. Soon, Hafdar—already deceived by the godling—will come to this city and initiate a probing assault against you. You will feel the godling’s power for the first time. After that, you’ll know my words are not false. “But before that… please erase all memory of our conversation. During Hafdar’s assault, your thoughts may be tampered with. I cannot guarantee he won’t uncover fragments of your mind. To be safe, it’s best you remember none of this.” “Then how will I recall this talk with you after I encounter Hafdar?” Dorothy asked further. Shepsuna answered. “In my current state, I can be transferred. Right now, through mystical means, you can transfer my will and a backup of your memory into one of your living marionettes. Under your command, I will temporarily possess a body. After you encounter Hafdar, I’ll offer a prayer to you—reaching out again and helping you recall everything from today.” “Quite the arrangement…” Dorothy murmured, clearly impressed. After a pause, she asked her final question. “So tell me—why did you choose to contact me through a copy of your will rather than in person?” At that, Shepsuna hesitated slightly. Then she placed her hand over her heart and solemnly responded. “I am a Seer of the Future… a Harbinger of the Divine Mentor. The knowledge I possess cannot be predicted by the godling. I am its greatest fear before it makes its move. “Therefore… so long as I remain alive… the godling will not interfere with the world. It will continue hiding in the depths of the inner realm, waiting, never striking, never giving you the opportunity to find a flaw. Only once I have truly and utterly perished… will it feel safe enough to act—and finally expose itself.” Dorothy’s expression changed with visible surprise. She asked with disbelief. “So… ‘you’… intend to ‘die’?” “More precisely… the current ‘me’ has already ‘died’… slain in Hafdar’s surprise attack. But my destruction was always part of my fate… “Such… is the destiny of one who sees destiny… Your Grace.” Shepsuna’s voice was calm and resolute. Dorothy said nothing in return—her silence marked by deep thought. … Time moves forward again. Deep within the inner realm, in the most secluded and secure corner of the shattered world, within the hidden domain of the divine throne, the nascent godling celebrated, reveling in what it believed to be its victory—eagerly claiming its divine prize. Yet the being that presumed omniscience within this realm did not know… a quiet reversal had already begun. CRACK!!! Thunder! A deafening boom exploded across the shadowy space. Dazzling lightning illuminated the gloomy sky. A thick bolt of divine lightning shot down from the heavens—instantly engulfing the grotesque brain-tendrils reaching toward the suspended girl. Bathed in this divine-charged lightning, the tendrils were utterly destroyed! “————————!!!!!!!!!!” A shriek! A howl! A scream! As the tendrils were annihilated, the monstrous infant on the throne opened its mouth and unleashed an ear-splitting screech—filled with disbelief, fury, fear, and hatred. The sound shook the entire domain, sending the ocean of script that built this world into a boiling frenzy! “Shut up already…” With a cold snarl, a massive bolt of lightning struck straight down from above—slamming directly onto the solemn throne. It hit the malformed giant infant dead on, erupting into a blinding explosion of divine light. “A noisy brat with no doctrine to speak of… making a mess of things like this… Really, someone ought to teach you a lesson…” Gazing into the glow, Dorothy muttered in a solemn, icy tone. All signs of confusion and despair had vanished from her face. In her calm, familiar eyes, a faint circle of violet light slowly shimmered. Now, Dorothy’s will and divinity were once again entirely under her control. And at this moment… her mind felt clearer and more expansive than ever before—immense and boundless. Her thoughts could now stretch far—beyond this hidden space, beyond the shattered world, beyond into the present realm, into the capital city of the Kingdom of Pritt… into Tivian itself. And there, in one of the countless perspectives available to her… she saw the first morning sun rising over Tivian. … Present Realm, Tivian, Pritt. The morning sun shone upon the earth. The city had just begun to awaken. Dockworkers carried cargo to the sound of steam whistles—yet the faint violet glow at the edges of their eyes had no effect on their labor. Barefoot newsboys raced through alleys hawking papers, and when one handed the morning edition to a gentleman on the street, neither noticed the strange purple gleam in the other’s eyes. A barber studied his own eyes and his customer’s in the mirror countless times, but found nothing strange about the violet hue within. Only within the royal palace did someone notice—the young duchess standing at the window, who gazed at her violet eyes and spoke with solemn gravity. “It’s already begun… Teacher… “You once saved millions of lives in this nation—now, let those millions become your strength… become your mind…” Staring into her reflection, Anna murmured. And with those words, she revealed Dorothy’s true countermeasure against the memetic contamination of the godling. To alter the very structure of her consciousness—not confining it to a single brain, but spreading it across the minds of countless people. Operationally, Dorothy had, with the help of the Pritt government and Church, quietly conducted a vast-scale hypnotic profiling across the population. In the process, millions of citizens were unknowingly conditioned to pray to her, thus establishing informational channels to her through the "system." Through these millions of channels, Dorothy connected her own consciousness to the minds of these people—and then interconnected their minds to each other. Under her regulation, these millions of wills became a tightly woven network of information threads—forming a vast, complex structure. Next, Dorothy used her profiling abilities to rewrite portions of each connected mind—implanting fragments of her own will into all of them. These fragments remained dormant under normal circumstances but could be activated in emergencies. Upon activation, this enormous network came fully alive. Each brain within it became a high-level neural node, linked via dense information pathways—collectively forming a new "brain": Dorothy’s emergency external brain. In this way, using her information-listening and psychic profiling powers—plus support from Pritt’s state and Church—Dorothy multiplied her mental architecture hundreds of thousands of times. Once activated, her thoughts no longer existed in just her own brain, but in the interlinked thoughts of millions. The cross-networked communication between those brains constructed Dorothy’s broader cognition. In this framework, her original brain was now merely one-millionth of her total processing capacity. The key to all this was: the origin of the information channels—the mysterious "system"! Its rank seemed extraordinarily high—so high that even the divinity of Heaven’s Arbiter could not affect it. That meant the godling’s power could not affect the system’s informational links. Which in turn meant—even if Dorothy’s own brain were contaminated—the effect would be isolated to just her. The memetic contamination could not spread through the system’s threads to infect others. Since the content passing through the channels was entirely dictated by Dorothy’s main will, the memetic information was completely blocked unless she permitted it. Indeed, the first time Dorothy was infected, it had come through an information channel—but that was only because she hadn’t yet realized the data was harmful. Once she became aware, the godling’s memes could no longer propagate through the channels. The end result was this: the godling could at most affect a sliver of Dorothy’s will—just one millionth of it. And the price it paid for doing so… was exposing itself directly to Dorothy. “I am the many…” “The many are me…” In Tivian, countless citizens went about their daily lives—working hard, living as always. None noticed anything strange, nor found it odd when, in the midst of their activities, they all suddenly spoke the same words in unison. “The Boundless Above of This World…” “The Convergence of Endless Fate…” “The Gate and Key of Infinite Truth…” “The great Aka, Recorder of All Things…” Everywhere in Tivian—every corner with people—amid lovers chatting, parents scolding, children crying, vendors shouting, guards saluting, and the Queen addressing the court… Though each person should have been speaking in their own context, reacting to their own unique circumstances… The words from their mouths instead merged into a single harmonious chant—resonating down streets, throughout palaces, through winding alleys. “Let me become the many, and the many become me…” “Let the one become all, and the all become one…” “One is All.” “All is One.”