The Prince of Darkness’ voice was solemn.

’Imagine a power that isn’t bound by Art classifications, doesn’t follow Sequence hierarchies, operates under principles unique to its wielder that cannot be replicated or countered through normal methods. That’s what Ethereal Conception represents—a personal trump card that transcends conventional Ancient Majik frameworks.’

Rey processed this with cold calculation.

’So attempting to fight an Archangel using standard techniques would be futile. Even if I matched them in raw power and Art mastery, their Ethereal Conception would represent capability I couldn’t predict or counter.’

’Correct,’ the Prince confirmed. ’Each Ethereal Conception is also unique. This is why even the strongest Angels cannot truly challenge Archangels. The Ethereal Conception represents categorical advantage that makes direct confrontation suicidal regardless of other factors.’

Rey’s determination crystallized with renewed intensity.

’Then I need to eventually develop my own Ethereal Conception. Not just master existing Arts and Techniques, but create something unique that transcends normal frameworks entirely.’

’A goal requiring power, experience, and insight accumulated over centuries or millennia,’ the Prince observed. ’Not achievable in any reasonable timeframe through normal methods.’

’Which is why I’m exploiting every opportunity available,’ Rey replied coldly. ’This expedition might hold a clue.’

If this was truly an arrangement from Ater, then the chances were high.

’Maybe even—’

Right then, Seraphine’s voice interrupted his internal deliberation. 𝗳𝚛𝗲𝕖𝕨𝕖𝗯𝚗𝚘𝕧𝕖𝗹.𝗰𝗼𝕞

"Reform!" the Paladin commanded, her earlier despair replaced by renewed confidence. "The Angel’s blessing has restored our combat capabilities completely. We advance immediately while conditions remain favorable."

The unit responded with enthusiasm, their earlier fear transformed into optimism by divine intervention.

They’d survived impossible odds through Angel assistance, received personal blessing and encouragement, witnessed power that proved the Five Ancients’ protection was real rather than abstract theology.

Rey walked among them, his expression showing appropriate excitement while his mind continued strategic calculations.

’The expedition is proceeding better than anticipated. The Church’s resource investment is substantial, Angel support is available when needed, and opportunities for distinguishing myself continue presenting themselves.’

They advanced deeper into the corrupted city, morale high despite the horrors surrounding them.

Hours passed in relative success.

They encountered more Hollow Creatures but nothing approaching the advanced variants that had nearly annihilated them. Standard combat protocols proved effective, casualties remained manageable, and the unit’s coordination improved with each engagement.

Rey contributed appropriately throughout.

Mid-Sequence techniques that appeared helpful without dominating, tactical awareness that seemed experienced without being supernatural, combat effectiveness that justified his Gold-rank classification while not exceeding it suspiciously.

The optimism persisted even as the corruption intensified, as the spatial distortions became more severe, as the ambient wrongness pressed against their mystical defenses with increasing pressure.

They were making progress and were surviving.

They would succeed in their mission and earn the rewards the Church had promised.

Then—

VWUUUUUUUUMMMM!!!

—Everything went catastrophically wrong.

***

Rey regained consciousness slowly, his enhanced perception struggling to process sensory input that made no coherent sense.

He was lying on the ground.

It wasn’t a corrupted street but a devastated battlefield where stone had been reduced to slag and space itself showed visible fractures.

His body ached with pain that penetrated even the Divine-grade armor he wore concealed beneath Church-provided equipment.

Whatever had struck them had operated at scales that exceeded normal combat damage.

He forced himself to assess the situation despite disorientation and pain.

The unit was destroyed.

Bodies lay scattered across the devastated ground.

Searchers who’d been alive and optimistic mere hours ago, now reduced to corpses showing evidence of deaths so violent their protective equipment had been rendered meaningless.

Of the hundred members who’d entered the dungeon together, perhaps ten remained alive.

And of those ten, most showed injuries that suggested they’d die within minutes without immediate intervention.

Rey’s enhanced perception catalogued the casualties with cold detachment despite the horror:

Thirty bodies showing complete disintegration—erased at fundamental levels that left only ash.

Twenty showing massive trauma—crushed, torn apart, or burned beyond recognition.

Fifteen showing plague corruption so advanced their bodies had already begun transforming into Hollow Creatures.

Ten showing fatal injuries that emergency healing couldn’t address.

And scattered among the dead were those who’d managed to survive but wouldn’t for long—unconscious from trauma, bleeding from wounds that exceeded protective equipment’s defensive capabilities, or simply broken by exposure to forces their mortal bodies couldn’t withstand.

Rey forced himself to a sitting position, his armor preventing the worst of whatever assault had struck them but still leaving him injured and disoriented.

Then he saw her.

Paladin Commander Seraphine, half-kneeling approximately twenty meters away, her sword planted in the ground for support, blood streaming from dozens of wounds that suggested she’d taken devastating damage protecting survivors.

And before her stood something that made Rey’s enhanced perception recoil in instinctive rejection.

It wasn’t a Hollow Creature—not in any conventional sense. It possessed a vaguely humanoid shape, but its form seemed to exist in multiple states simultaneously.

It was solid and incorporeal.

Present and absent.

Real and impossible.

A living... paradox!

Darkness surrounded it like a living shadow, not merely absence of light but wrongness that consumed illumination actively.

Within that darkness, Rey could perceive... fragments?

Pieces of reality that didn’t belong together, combined in ways that violated fundamental principles governing existence.

And the mystical pressure radiating from it—

’That’s not Tier 5,’ Rey realized with cold horror. ’That’s not even Tier 4. That pressure operates at scales approaching what the Prince of Darkness possessed before degradation to Tier 5.’

’Tier 3?!’

An entity that shouldn’t exist in this dungeon according to all Church intelligence.

This was a creature normal Angels couldn’t even handle alone!

Seraphine raised her sword with trembling arms despite catastrophic injuries, her expression showing determination that transcended rational hope.

The impossibly dark figure tilted its head—gesture that seemed almost curious despite the complete absence of recognizable features.

Then it spoke, voice carrying harmonics that made reality itself seem to groan in protest:

"Interesting. One still possesses the will to resist. How... admirable."

Rey stared at the entity, his mind struggling to process what he was observing.

’What... is that?!’

[A/N: Happy New Month!!!]