Chapter 217: The Tear-Shedding Serpent (8)

“I am in position.”

At the outer edge of that altar painstakingly built by the cultists, a thin figure hid within the shadow atop a high tower, watching everything happening upon the altar.

The Silent One—Jinze.

After receiving the old man’s order earlier, he had not participated in tonight’s large-scale assault against the cultists. Instead, using a special ancient relic to conceal his aura, he bypassed the layers of defenses formed by the cultists and those moon-beasts, arriving here alone at the core area.

His mission was only one: at the critical moment, to assassinate the key figure—Anna Kaplin.

He had thought this would be a very easy task. After all, he had studied all of Anna Kaplin’s information, understood her combat methods and abilities. With his own strength and the equipment he carried, even if Anna Kaplin were ten times stronger, killing her would still be effortless.

But now, Jinze’s forehead was already beaded with sweat, his mouth dry and parched.

Ever since becoming a Silent One, he had faced countless Evil Gods or grotesqueries made by cultists, yet never had he been this tense.

For before his eyes—through a special small magitech telescope—he was witnessing a scene of terrifying beauty.

Under pale-blue moonlight, a girl with a serpent’s tail floated silently. The hem of her violet dress drifted as if she were a mermaid slumbering in the deep sea.

But Jinze had no leisure to appreciate beauty. Through the specialized telescope, he could clearly see thread-like wisps of foggy light, deeper than moonlight, abruptly emerging from the void, slowly flowing into the girl’s body.

As the fog seeped into her, the girl’s aura grew increasingly terrifying.

And that terror was not from any mere rise in cultivation. From this distance, Jinze couldn’t judge her rank anyway.

—No, it was more like she was undergoing an ultimate elevation of life itself, as if an insect were about to evolve into a bird soaring into the heavens, looking down upon all the insects still crawling on the ground.

“Damn it!”

Usually unshaken, Jinze could not control his emotions now, cursing aloud.

As a high-ranking officer of the Silent Bureau, the most trusted subordinate of the Swordbearer, how could he fail to see what the Silent Moon was scheming?

It intended to use Anna Kaplin as a vessel—to descend into the mortal world!

“So this is Anna Kaplin’s peculiarity? The reason cultists would dare attack a Silent Bureau branch to seize ➤ NоvеⅠight ➤ (Read more on our source) her? A perfect adapter to Evil God power?”

“But what good is a perfect vessel? The god itself cannot fully descend—the world’s barrier forbids it. That is an absolute law!”

“If it is only partial descent, then aside from weakening its true body, what’s the point? The Godwar is about to begin—this is courting death!”

“Unless... it no longer wishes to be a god?”

A ludicrous thought formed in Jinze’s mind, so absurd that even in such a solemn moment, he nearly laughed.

The divine body itself could not pass through the world’s barrier. But divine will, authority, and power—those could seep through.

Thus, theoretically, a descent through forsaking divinity... was possible.

But how could that be? For an Evil God to abandon its divine body and its godhood, to lower itself, to become the lowly, contemptible creatures it despised?

Such a thing—even a three-year-old would laugh at as delusion, daydreaming.

And yet...

However impossible, as a Silent One, he had to prepare for the worst.

Silently, Jinze took out the silver suitcase the old man had given him.

After completing a complex series of authentications, he released the sealing matrices etched upon it. Drawing a deep breath, he opened the case with solemn care.

Inside lay an arrow as if carved from crystal.

Its tip gleamed, transparent like a ruby—yet sealed within that ruby was a power so dreadful it made Jinze’s breath catch.

The Origin Stone.

The name surfaced in his mind.

Forged personally by the Archmage who could not leave the Academy—a terrifying weapon. This was her sole contribution to the war between Belrand and the Evil Gods.

Sealed within it was the full-force strike of the last surviving Origin-tier Archmage, inscribed upon the gem as a miracle of “certain kill.” Thus had been born this “theoretical” Death Arrow, able to slay any existence.

No matter the Moon’s plan—if its vessel was destroyed, everything ended there.

Therefore—

Loading the arrow into a likewise-specialized long-range siege crossbow, Jinze slowly aimed at the mermaid-like figure.

Through the scope, he could see fear and struggle at the girl’s brow, an expression almost pitiful. He drew a deep breath, quickly calming himself.

His once trembling hands became steady as steel.

“Heavy rain, no wind, visibility low.”

“Target has not discovered my position.”

“Mana elements stable, sight clear.”

“No obstacles to aim, shot possible.”

“Requesting orders.”

Having finished preparations, Jinze reported through the small transmission stone in his ear.

“—sshh—”

But for a long while, only static came.

On the other end, the old man with final authority remained silent.

“Requesting orders,” Jinze pressed.

Before his eyes, the Moon seemed to sense something. Dense black fog welled out from the altar, rising to cover it slowly.

That was... the Dark Moon Mist that sealed all.

Jinze’s breath quickened. The Origin Stone was terrifying, but it still had to hit. If the altar became cloaked, he could only watch helplessly as the Silent Moon completed its plan.

“Requesting orders!”

This time, Jinze was almost shouting.

“...Haa—”

Finally, the aged voice spoke.

“Jinze, tell me—one person, or several million, which matters more?”

“Of course several million, that’s obvious!”

In his urgency, Jinze forgot all courtesy.

“Please hurry! The mist has covered one-fifth... one-third... half... soon my angle will be gone!”

“I see.”

Countless tangled thoughts collapsed into the old man’s weary chuckle.

“Perhaps I am overthinking... in that case, then—”

“Eh?!”

He was cut off by Jinze’s startled cry.

“What happened?”

“How... how is this possible?”

Jinze exclaimed in disbelief.

“That person—that’s Muen Campbell! How is he here?”

“Muen Campbell? Are you certain?” From the stone came the sound of a chair being knocked over.

“Without doubt. It’s him.”

Jinze’s eye clung to the scope. His focus shifted from the mermaid-like girl to the altar’s edge.

A blond youth had appeared, circling the Dark Moon Mist.

Then suddenly, as if resolved, he strode forward without hesitation, vanishing into the fog.

“He’s mad...”

Jinze was dumbstruck.

The Silent Moon’s mist could bewilder even Crowned ones. For a pampered duke’s son, stepping in was suicide.

No—that couldn’t be right.

How had a pampered noble youth, without any aura-concealing relics, passed through the cultists and moon-beasts to arrive here?

No time to dwell. The mist was closing. He had to decide.

“Forget it. Lower the crossbow for now,” came the old man’s command.

“What?” Jinze thought he misheard. “Are you insane? This is the last chance!”

“It is not the last.”

The old man’s voice was firm.

“Even in the worst case, even if the Moon truly abandons godhood and descends into Anna, at its newborn moment it will still be most fragile. The Origin Stone will still work.”

Jinze gave a bitter laugh. “But the difference between hitting a fixed target and a moving one is enormous.”

“It will not be moving.”

The old man’s tone turned cold.

“No matter how strong the Moon, stripped of divine body and godhood, its authority incomplete—it will not be hard to stall it briefly. The cost... is only to sacrifice something.

But since even that foolish boy, with such a bright future, could abandon everything to come here, how can I, an old man with one foot already in the grave, flinch?”

Elsewhere, the old man stepped out of a dilapidated little shop. His ancient eyes flared with a brilliance unbearable to look at.

He raised his gaze to the pale-blue moon above the firmament, and murmured with a sigh:

“A lifetime battling Evil Gods, hands drenched in blood and sin, never believing in miracles. And yet, at the end, I still can’t help but want to dream one last dream.”

“Muen Campbell—old man that I am, I’ll go mad with you this once.”

“You must... bring back that foolish girl who only knows how to weep alone.”

...

“Senior-sis, you’re in there, aren’t you?”

Within the vast space, Muen circled the mass of black mist ahead, confirming that the pull he sensed pointed inside.

He knew this was Dark Moon Mist, on a scale far beyond the demoness’s earlier use—enough to bewilder even a Crowned one.

But he drew in a deep breath, stepping inside without hesitation.

“Senior-sis—I’ve come to save you.”