“A witch must always try to curse this fate... mustn’t she?”

As her words fell, a faint light flickered in Anna’s eyes.

This time she omitted even the chanting. Dense magical power gathered at once.

Scorching brilliance condensed at her fingertips. The explosion spell, compressed to its very limit, instantly ignited the smoke that had been laced with flammable fragments.

Flames roared upward. Then, in this half-enclosed space, a wild gale swept in, driving the flames and forming a wall of fire fierce enough to burn all flesh to ash.

Several believers who had not fallen into the blood pool were instantly consumed by the fire, their bodies incinerated into charcoal amid pitiful screams, the stench of burning flesh choking the air.

“Damn it!”

The banshee was ⊛ Nоvеlιght ⊛ (Read the full story) forced back for the moment by the flames, her features twisting into sudden savagery.

She still had many means she had not used. And she could see at a glance Anna’s present condition—she knew that if she applied just a bit more external pressure, Anna’s spiritual defenses would collapse in an instant.

But with Anna’s long-planned stratagem catching her off guard, no matter how many methods the banshee possessed, she could not bring them to bear. She could only watch helplessly as the tide of fire pushed her away, and as Anna turned her palm, magic surging, and struck the ground.

She meant to destroy the altar!

“Stop!”

The banshee roared, her crescent scimitar slashing a blade of freezing light.

But it was too late.

Anna ignored the threatening strike entirely, letting the blade-light graze across her cheek.

She bent down, palm pressing to the altar.

No time for any spell. No time for any martial art. No time for any tool. Only the full torrent of her magic gathered in her palm and burst forth in an instant.

But that was enough.

The ground shook violently.

Cracks, like a spiderweb, spread outward in an instant. With the blast of battle-aura assisting, the altar—built of some unknown stone—collapsed at once.

Dust billowed. Anna rose slowly amidst the rubble.

The profound lines carved around the altar had gone utterly dim. The blood that had been rising into the air, as though losing its support, flowed back into the pool. Waves turned, then stilled into silence.

Her aim was achieved. Yet Anna’s face showed no joy. She only lowered her eyes and sighed softly.

“It’s over.”

The altar destroyed, the sacrificial rite to summon the Evil God could no longer continue.

Though she did not know their precise purpose, with such a critical step broken, the rest of the plan must surely collapse.

Even if Serpent-Sickness could no longer be cured, even if she was doomed, at least... at least no one would die because of her. Would they?

That alone... was enough.

Anna lifted her head, thinking the banshee’s enraged strike must be coming. To die beneath her blade, just like this... perhaps that would not be so bad.

Only—she felt some regret, for her junior, that she had said such words to him...

“Over? Are you joking?”

Anna’s pupils shrank. Even her heartbeat faltered.

Because not only had the banshee not attacked, she stood unmoving. The rage and savagery on her face had vanished, replaced with mockery—as though she had merely watched a useless ant’s futile struggle.

“Surely you don’t think this will stop us? Stop the great Moon’s plan? Anna Kaplin, you still underestimate yourself.”

“Underestimate... myself?”

Anna frowned, puzzled, not understanding the meaning behind the banshee’s words.

But in that instant, the banshee suddenly bowed toward her with utmost reverence.

“O great Moon, your noble divine heir has been delivered. Please—descend.”

Divine heir?

What divine heir?

And descend?

The altar to summon the Evil God had been destroyed by her own hands. How could it descend?

Countless questions flooded Anna’s mind, along with the inescapable icy whispers, making her head throb with pain.

Only the moonlight, that flawless radiance, soothed her trembling heart a little, as if she could simply... fall into eternal sleep.

Wait.

Moonlight?

The ritual was already ended. Where had the moonlight come from?

Anna started violently, eyes widening, head snapping upward.

In an instant, cold seized her body.

It felt as though all blood had been drained, her figure trembling uncontrollably.

For above her head hung a massive pale-blue moon, wedged directly into this half-enclosed space, filling nearly all her vision.

The Moon had truly descended.

And it was not some faint power drawn by sacrifice.

What appeared before Anna’s eyes now was at least a complete projection!

“So... that’s it?”

Thoughts erupted like a flood. As Anna gazed at that pale-blue moon, every line, every piece, connected seamlessly.

What “divine heir” meant.

What “descent” meant.

And the meaning of those words, spoken when the banshee first forced her to drink the evolutionary potion: “You are the most important piece of this plan.”

The blood pool.

The altar.

The sacrifice.

They did not matter at all. They were only to set the Evil God’s coordinates.

All had already been accomplished before Anna ever came.

The truly vital one was her. Anna Kaplin.

Once she stood here, everything... was inevitable.

Understanding struck. A dagger appeared in Anna’s hand. Without hesitation she slashed it toward her own fair throat.

Clang—

Sparks burst.

The dagger could not cut the deadly artery. For before it struck, black scales had spread across her skin like white jade veiled in steel.

Then, from that pale-blue moon above, a gaze from a higher plane fell—coldly watching the struggling girl.

But all struggle was futile.

The flawless moonlight poured down. Anna’s body rose helplessly into the air. Her violet dress spread wide, beauty like a mermaid dancing in the deep sea.

The dagger clattered to the ground.

It was truly as though she floated in the depths of the ocean. Anna felt endless cold and silence.

The warmth in her blood drained away bit by bit. Her heartbeat slowed. The icy consciousness invaded her mind, ripping apart her fragile defenses with speed.

Even the gem, the True Love’s Tear that had sustained her until now, dared not shine under the Evil God’s gaze.

Even her emotions seemed stripped away, thread by thread. That familiar figure in her mind grew dimmer and dimmer.

“Junior...”

And compared to the corrosion of her spirit, the transformation of her body was even swifter. Black scales spread over every inch of skin. The carefully chosen black stockings that had accentuated her beauty tore apart. From beneath her dress, a long serpent’s tail slid out, swaying gently in the moonlight.

Beautiful. Monstrous.

...

“So this is... the soon-to-be perfect lamia?”

The banshee crawled forward on her knees. Gazing at the girl gradually changing beneath the moon’s glow, envy flashed in her eyes, but soon it burned into frenzied devotion.

“To become the Moon’s vessel, to become wholly part of the Moon—you should feel honored, Anna Kaplin.”

“But as for the real you, surely you will not feel joy. After all, you have now utterly become something even more pure than I... a monster.”

Her gaze swept across Anna’s still faintly furrowed brows. Her consciousness seemed to resist even now. The banshee sighed with feigned regret.

“What a pity. You will never wake again. Otherwise, I would have loved to see what expression you’d make, discovering yourself turned into a complete monster.”

“But now... it is not yet time for me to wait, is it?”

The banshee tilted her head to listen. Her lips curved into a mocking smile.

“So that one still came after all. I truly want to see his reaction when he beholds you like this. But...”

She bowed deeply toward the pale-blue moon, then rose, turning to walk into the depths of the darkness.

“First let us continue the game that was left unfinished.”

“I look forward to it, Muen Campbell.”