ERA OF DESTINY

The night passed without nightmares.

For the first time in many days, the tribe slept in peace under unseen protection. Fear did not crawl through their dreams, and no one woke screaming. But peace did not reach everyone equally.

Geng did not truly sleep.

He sat against the stone wall of the tunnel long after the others drifted into rest, eyes half-closed, mind wide awake. Thoughts circled him like vultures.

What if I fail her? What if I turn into him again? What if I lose control?

Each question struck deeper than the last. Responsibility did not feel like honor. It felt like standing at the edge of a cliff in the dark.

At some unknown hour, exhaustion defeated fear. His head dropped forward. Sleep took him sitting.

Morning crept quietly into the tunnel.

Mimi woke first.

She did not fully understand everything that had happened the night before – not the verdict, not the burden, not the divine judgment – but she understood one thing clearly in her heart.

God was righteous. God was kind.

And if He chose someone, that choice was not a mistake.

She rose softly and walked toward Geng. He was still seated where he had fallen asleep, back against stone, chin lowered. Sweat had formed across his forehead.

Mimi hesitated only a moment, then lifted her sleeve and gently wiped the moisture away with careful dabs, as if afraid he might break.

Geng's eyes opened at the touch.

They were suddenly too close.

Both froze. Their gazes met. Heat rushed to their faces at the same instant, and they turned away in opposite directions as if burned.

"Brother–sorry," Mimi said quickly, voice small. "I didn't mean to wake you. I was only wiping the sweat."

She started to step away in embarrassment.

Geng reached out and caught her wrist – not tightly, just enough to stop her.

"Mimi… sit," he said quietly. "I want to talk."

She obeyed at once and sat beside him.

Words came slowly at first, then all at once. Geng told her everything – the dungeon, the torture, the revenge, the loss of control, the moment he realized what he had become, and the god who stood above him and did not turn away.

Mimi listened without interrupting.

Tears gathered and fell as she heard his pain, not from fear – but from sympathy. When he finished, she told her side – the entrance, the hiding, the terror, the burden placed on her, and the consequences.

By the end, the silence between them felt lighter.

Still, Geng could not lift his eyes.

"Mimi…" he said, staring at the ground. "Am I worthy to be your brother?"

His fingers tightened against his knees.

"What if I fail God again? What if I fail you?" His voice lowered. "Will you hate me then?"

Mimi did not answer immediately.

She shifted closer without sound, bent forward, and tried to catch his lowered gaze.

"Brother," she said softly, "I trust Lord God."

He did not move.

"He sees everything," she continued. "He is wise. He knows hearts. And he chose you."

Geng swallowed.

"Do you think He chose you by mistake?" she asked gently. "Do you think God is naive?"

Geng had no reply.

"If you are afraid of turning again," she went on, thinking aloud like a child solving a puzzle, "then remember a face."

"A face?" he echoed.

"Mine," she said simply. "Or your mother's."

The word struck deep.

His mother's smile rose in memory – warm, patient, unbroken. Tears filled his eyes before he could stop them.

Mimi suddenly stepped in front of him, bright and direct, without hesitation.

"Yes. Like this," she said.

She cupped his face in both her hands and lifted it.

Their foreheads nearly touched. Their eyes met fully this time – no shadows, no lowered gaze, no escape.

"Remember," she said.

Warmth surged through his chest, sharp and overwhelming. Relief mixed with embarrassment, gratitude mixed with something he couldn't name.

Geng panicked.

He grabbed her hands away gently – and bolted to his feet, retreating several steps like a startled animal.

Mimi blinked.

Then laughed softly.

Morning had begun.

Nearly an hour later, Kiaria and Diala opened their eyes from cultivation at almost the same moment. The throne terrace remained quiet, spiritual currents still circling faintly in the air. Diala rose first and moved through the chamber, waking the others with a light touch and a few soft words.

Ru and Yi were missing.

"They're still inside the Ghost Prison domain," Kiaria said calmly. Diala nodded and followed him without another question. Both stepped through the domain boundary together.

Inside, the research area was in disorder – but the orderly kind born from obsession. Tools, liquid vials, carved cores, and filament samples were arranged in tight clusters. Ru and Yi stood bent over their work, eyes tired but burning with focus. They hadn't slept.

"Greetings, Patron," they said together the moment they noticed Kiaria.

"What are the updates?" Kiaria asked.

Diala stepped closer, studying a transformed arrowhead and several glassy liquids swirling with suspended particles. She reached toward one sample, but Yi gently intercepted her wrist.

"Not safe to touch directly," he said.

Ru straightened and began the report. "The dandelion variants are harmless to us internally. The inner sac and outer shell share the same structure as our body lining, so ingestion causes no penetration. But prolonged inhalation of spores can induce numbness and weakness."

He pointed toward preserved beast tissue samples.

"In beasts, it's different. The spores penetrate, rupture inside the bloodstream, and alter blood behavior. Their own blood begins attacking their body systems. The spores survive heat, acid, toxin, and freezing. Only total circulation collapse stops them."

Yi took over, voice sharper with restrained excitement.

"The white variant infects and multiplies. The silver variant corrodes evil-aligned bodies directly – black energy structures erode into dust on contact. Golden dandelions are neutral, but their filaments increase body porosity, making other spores penetrate faster. Rose-pink prevents clotting – but again, only in beasts."

He lifted a sealed sphere with dark-gold filaments embedded inside.

"Our innovation – spore balls. Golden filament shells with mixed spore cores. The outer viscous layer prevents burn-off and drying. On impact, penetration is immediate. Blood destabilizes, clotting fails, and internal erosion begins. Estimated lethal window – six minutes."

Kiaria watched the sphere in silence.

"So that's the hidden mechanism," he said at last. "No wonder the field was cultivated that way."

"Impressive," Diala added quietly.

"Enough work for now," Kiaria said. "Come eat."

–

Outside the domain, Aizrel and Azriel had already begun preparing breakfast. Aizrel worked with smooth precision, her hidden wrist blade flashing in small arcs as she carved edible herbal corn and spiritual fruits into intricate forms.

Dion apples became layered lotus petals. Leiyon vine stems curved into floating reeds. A wide vessel of herbal spring water formed the base, and carved ginseng fish drifted across the surface like a living pond.

Azriel leaned closer. "What's this dish called?"

"Lotus Spring," Aizrel replied without looking up.

They finished just as Kiaria, Diala, Ru, and Yi returned. The table filled quickly, fragrance rising with gentle herbal warmth. For a moment, no one spoke.

Diala stepped closer, eyes widening slightly. "Who made this?" she asked. "It's too elegant to eat."

"Then don't," she added. "We can just drink water and admire it."

Aizrel laughed softly. "It can be made again, Goddess Shade. Beauty is for use – not preservation."

They began the meal.

Conversation stayed light. Relief lingered beneath the surface. Ru and Yi finally ate like people returning from a long war with curiosity. Azriel approved loudly. Aizrel watched with quiet pride.

Kiaria did not finish his portion.

He kept the remaining dish in his hand for a moment, then sealed it away for later with a flicker of intent. His appetite had vanished. Something restless had begun stirring beneath his calm.

He rose and walked back to the throne without a word. When he sat, his posture settled – but his gaze did not. His eyes turned distant, then sharpened as the Eyes of Insight opened silently.

His vision pierced downward.

Straight to the fourth floor.

The ritualist's chamber appeared before him in perfect clarity – formation lines, floor patterns, sealed arrays – and the man lying motionless at the center.

Dead.

Kiaria's brows drew together slightly.

"What happened?" he asked inwardly.

The white spiderling spirit responded at once.

"Unknown. No entry. No exit. No talisman activation. No poison trace. No curse pattern. No spiritual surge at the moment of death. Vital signs simply stopped."

Kiaria's fingers tightened on the throne armrest.

"Why wasn't I informed immediately?"

"I was verifying the anomaly," the Evil Spider replied. "Also – the caged bird on the ground floor has completed its mutation. It has become a Gluttony Crow. It is starving and agitated."

A brief silence followed.

"Do not delay priority reports again," Kiaria said coldly.

He closed the vision link.

The throne handle cracked under his grip with a hard strike. The sharp sound rang through the terrace chamber like a snapped bone.

Across the hall, heads turned.

Diala and Princess Lainsa approached first, sensing the disturbance in his aura before the sound had fully faded.

"What happened?" Diala asked.

Kiaria exhaled slowly. "The hooked fish is dead."

Princess frowned. "Dead? How?"

"That," Kiaria said, "is the problem."

He looked at them both, eyes colder now – calculating, not emotional.

"No struggle. No fear expression. No traceable method. No energy fluctuation. No intrusion pattern. No self-harm action. He died… cleanly."

Neither woman spoke. The weight of that word settled heavily.

Clean.

Ru, Yi, Azriel, and the others drew closer, reading the tension in the air.

"Lord Master," Ru asked carefully, "has something gone wrong?"

"Our plan has been countered," Kiaria said. "The ritualist is dead – but not by his own hand, and not by any detectable method."

Yi's expression hardened. "An unseen executioner."

"Yes," Kiaria replied. "And a precise one."

He rose from the throne and began pacing slowly, thoughts already branching into counter-strategies.

"If we proceed with the same operation pattern, this hidden actor can erase targets without evidence. No curse trail. No energy residue. No contact trigger."

Diala folded her arms. "A method beyond standard killing arts."

"Or beyond this domain's rules," Kiaria said quietly.

He stopped.

"The enemy we planned to interrogate was only a pawn."

His gaze lifted.

"The one who removed him… is watching the board."

Silence spread through the chamber.

The game had changed.