Chapter 221: The Tear-Shedding Serpent (12)

Moonlight collapsed.

Within the surging, riven black mist, the countless crimson eyes of the Silent Moon howled in rage, locking Their overwhelming fury upon the old man who had loosed the crossbow bolt.

Insects.

Another insect.

How dare you?

You insects—how dare you?

The eerie blue moon shook violently. Its turbulence twisted layer after layer of space, crimson color spreading like blood. In an instant, the entire moon turned scarlet.

Yet what turned it scarlet was not anger, but—poison.

The death-poison, painstakingly crafted by an Origin-level Grand Archmage, spread swiftly across the lunar disc, unraveling its beautiful glow.

It was a “Certain Death” force strong enough to affect even an Evil God’s true body. How could a mere projection resist its corrosion?

Boom—

The Withering King’s skeletal hands extended again. This time, meeting almost no resistance, they clutched the moon rapidly. Crimson flames burned, and one after another, grotesque eyes dissolved within the fire.

The lunar disc warped. Anyone could see the god’s frenzy and rage—

And also Its helplessness.

Under the poison’s erosion, under the Withering King’s restraint and dragging, this projection—an Evil God capable of turning a nation into a wasteland in a single night—was, bit by bit, forced into the void’s depths.

Leaving only endless hatred behind.

What awaited It now was the devouring of another Evil God.

...

The Evil God, Silent Moon.

To avoid a god-war with the Withering King, to escape Its devouring, It had schemed everything, even willing to abandon Its divine body and throne, descending instead into the perfect serpentine vessel—Anna Kaplin.

But in the end, Its plan collapsed at the backlash of those It deemed mere insects.

Two projections destroyed. All Its believers reduced to ashes.

From here onward, the balance between the Silent Moon and the Withering King—two Evil Gods of equal standing—would be thoroughly overturned.

Perhaps the so-called ending had been set long ago.

...

“Never thought even that one would show up.”

Outside the dark mist, Jinze—robbed of his crossbow by the old man and left to spectate—was dumbstruck.

He knew this affair would become huge, but not this huge.

Two Evil Gods rolling up their sleeves and brawling—something seen once in a century.

“It’s only natural that one would appear. After all, this whole affair, from beginning to end, is between those two. Strictly speaking, everything happening in Belrand is just collateral.”

The old man casually discarded the crossbow and drew a ragged breath, in an instant seeming ten years older.

To guide the Origin Stone arrow accurately, he had used his full strength for the first time in ages. This half-decayed body could barely endure it.

But he was deeply satisfied.

To personally slap that moon’s face with an arrow—who wouldn’t feel elated? Especially someone who bore such deep resentment against the moon.

For ten years, he had watched that girl silently confront despair alone. Even a heart of steel, unknowingly, would be reforged into the sharpest blade.

“Huh? This mist?”

Jinze suddenly exclaimed.

Though the Silent Moon’s projection had vanished, the dark mist did not disperse. Instead, the rift torn open by the Withering King was gradually mending, sealing the space again.

“Seems things aren’t quite over yet.”

The old man sat cross-legged on the ground with a sigh. “But from here, we can’t help. The cleanup of cultists is nearly finished. Let’s just wait. With me here, even if something unexpected happens, it won’t stir much trouble.”

“Yes!”

Jinze obeyed.

But then, as though something occurred to him, his stern face shifted to doubt.

“Come to think of it, wasn’t that one lured out by Muen Campbell? The forces of two Evil Gods were too chaotic—I didn’t see what method he used. Did you?”

“...I didn’t either. Under the oppression of two Evil Gods, who would pay attention to that boy?”

“...True.”

Jinze sighed regretfully. He remained wary, but thought no further.

There was more than one way to draw an Evil God’s gaze—not only through cultist rites or prayer. As the Duke’s son, Muen Campbell producing some bizarre item wouldn’t be strange.

“But keeping Evil God-related items privately is a grave crime. Should I arrest him later?” Jinze asked stiffly.

“...”

The old man gave him a blank look.

“Ask the overseer princess yourself. If she’s willing to let it pass without reporting you to His Majesty for abuse of authority, then I don’t care.”

“Oh.” Jinze nodded and fell silent.

Like hell he’d ask.

Even as devoted as he was to Silent Bureau work, he had heard—Muen Campbell was that princess’s fiancé. Arresting him would just invite trouble for himself.

Even he wasn’t stupid enough to do that.

Still...

Jinze’s gaze turned strange as he looked at the dark mist.

Princess, your fiancé is inside with another girl, alone, in the most sealed place in the world. You really don’t care what they’re doing in there?

...

...

“What does that have to do with me?”

Celicia, in a white gown stark against the night, stood in the pouring rain, untouched by even a drop—like a night-blooming epiphyllum, breathtakingly beautiful.

But tonight, colder than ever. Her icy gaze fixed on the sweating, balding middle-aged man before her.

“Viscount Goun, your failure to perform your duties—what does that have to do with me?”

“Your Highness, please be more understanding.”

The administrator of the Lower City, Viscount Goun, looked nothing like a ruler of the entire district—more like an overworked middle-aged office worker. The pressure of recent days had deepened his receding hairline and his dark circles.

The downpour had drenched him entirely, yet he still kept wiping sweat from his brow.

“It’s not that I shirk effort. But the Lower City’s chaos—you know well, Your Highness. Even if I investigate as you ordered, it will take time.”

He looked pitiful. “Besides, Your Highness, you hadn’t pushed before. Why suddenly...”

“Of course I’ve been lenient with you.”

Celicia’s voice turned sharp.

“Otherwise, I wouldn’t have bypassed you to investigate with my own means.”

“What?”

Viscount Goun blanched.

“My investigation ◆ Nоvеlіgһt ◆ (Only on Nоvеlіgһt) shows the disappearances in the Lower City have reached a horrifying number—far beyond the figures I last showed you.

Among the gangs, only the Red Flame Gang was foolish enough to collude with cultists, smuggling and selling people as sacrifices.

But could one gang alone make so many vanish?

So the question is...”

Celicia’s lips curved coldly.

“In the Lower City, besides gangs—who else could so easily do this?”

There was only one answer.

The Guard.

Wholly under Viscount Goun’s control.

What could be more “reasonable” than an official force, tasked with keeping order, making people vanish forever?

“...”

The rain pattered. Silence.

Viscount Goun fell wordless.

Then—his body stretched upward. His thick flesh twisted like a python, bursting his clothes. In moments he had become... a monster.

“I see.”

Celicia nodded coldly. “So you’re the sleepless one from the city’s rumors.”

“Never thought even you’d discover it.”

Viscount Goun—no, the Sleepless One—contorted his face, roaring:

“I hadn’t wanted this. But now, to hide my secret, I must ask you to die, Princess!”

Like a furious bull, he charged. The ground cracked beneath his steps.

“Is that so?”

Celicia’s calm never faltered. Her eyes flashed with ridicule.

With a flick of her slender fingers, snowflakes mixed into the falling rain.

“Who gave you the courage to say such words to me—on a rainy day?”

In an instant—

Cold surged.

Freezing everything.

...

...

Celicia stood in whiteness, her dress stirring in the breeze.

The rain had stopped.

The clouds that had smothered the city parted. Its vast, magnificent skyline returned to view.

Snowflakes lingered, clinging to her hair and lashes like winter frost flowers.

“Your Highness.”

A knight in golden armor knelt behind her.

“Take it back for questioning. There must be nobles involved too. Draft a list, submit it quickly—no, forget it. Just let the proper offices handle it. I’m only a student now. I won’t meddle in these headaches anymore.”

She glanced at the frozen statue beside her.

“Yes.”

The knight obeyed, sending men to carry the ice sculpture away.

Leaving Celicia alone, watching the dawn creep into the city.

The sky was brightening.

The city grew quiet again. The Silent Bureau’s suppression of cultists was nearly complete.

The night’s events had, as expected, come to a close.

All except—

Celicia raised her eyes toward the half-dome of dark mist not far away.

“You really do always appear in the most conspicuous places...”

She murmured softly. Silver lashes quivered, eyes lowered.

At that moment, her thoughts drifted like the snowflakes, aimless and inscrutable.