As Muen’s furious roar fell, the world instantly went silent.

As if nothing had happened.

But—

Upon the eerie blue moon, in those countless crimson, twisted pupils, a faint trace of very human fear suddenly surfaced.

The moon would not fear remnants or ants.

What It feared was—

Boom—

The silence shattered, broken by a roar like the end of the world!

From beyond the walls of the world, boundless might descended in an instant, following the beacon’s signal!

The void trembled!

At the far edge of Muen’s vision, behind that blue moon, space cracked inch by inch, splitting into jagged black fissures like knife slashes.

Then, from within those fissures, scorching radiance surged forth.

Like a blazing sun rising beyond space—its unbearable glory dwarfed Muen’s little lighthouse a thousand, ten thousand times over!

Boom—

The void shook again.

As if an iron fist were pounding furiously on a fragile door.

More light poured into this space. Under that indescribable brilliance and heat, the dark lunar mist rolled and boiled like water, then was forcibly torn open with rifts!

Accustomed as he was to the crimson flames, Muen managed to open his eyes within the flood of radiance. And there—beyond the shattered seams crushed by immeasurable force—he clearly saw it.

A monstrous eye, far more enormous and grotesque than all the Silent Moon’s countless pupils combined, cast down a gaze burning with feverish excitement.

Like a starving beast that had finally found the lamb it had long desired.

The Evil God—Withering King—descended!

...

Crack. Crack.

Before Muen could greet this old acquaintance, countless sounds like shattering glass rang out.

One after another, emaciated hands—blackened like charcoal by fire—slowly reached through the rifts in space.

Like the tendrils of a sea anemone catching prey, those hands opened and closed in rhythm, grasping toward the eerie blue moon.

Roar—

The moon gave a voiceless scream.

Its countless eyes spun madly. Cold, eerie moonlight resisted the skeletal hands pressing closer.

Though no sound echoed, Muen felt as though his very soul would be torn apart by invisible shockwaves.

Fortunately, the crimson flames within him, the moment the Withering King appeared, seemed to be fueled anew, burning fiercer and shielding him from most of the backlash.

Still, Muen grimaced in pain—and promptly raised his middle finger at the moon.

“It’s Him, the Withering King!”

【Hmph.】

Muen faintly heard a cold snort.

Then, on those charred hands, crimson flames ignited.

Though outwardly no different from his own, Muen could feel that fire’s terror was immeasurably greater.

As the crimson fire spread, it was like oil poured into water. The eerie blue moonlight quivered violently, and the skeletal hands drew ever nearer to the moon itself.

No surprise—the Withering King had the upper hand.

This was only one of the Silent Moon’s projections. Likewise, the Withering King’s descent was surely not Its true body.

No Evil God could descend fully into the mortal world. That rule was absolute. Otherwise, the Silent Moon would never have gone so far as to abandon Its divine body and throne just to force a descent.

But even as projections, the Withering King had been amassing power ceaselessly, even silencing Its followers during this incident.

The Silent Moon had done the opposite, stirring chaos, scattering Its strength. It had consumed untold power in the process.

So though they were equals in rank, though both were only projections, how could It possibly rival the Withering King?

As if to prove Muen’s thought, the countless skeletal hands grasped the moon itself, dragging it toward the rift’s far side.

And behind the cracks, that monstrous eye gleamed with glee—like a hulking brute grinning as he yanked a blue-haired little loli out to play.

Come on, come out and play with uncle...

The image was absurdly obscene.

Muen’s lips twitched; he shoved the thought aside, not daring to relax.

The moon would not yield so easily.

Indeed, in the Withering King’s tentacle play—no, in the dragging of Its countless skeletal hands—the Silent Moon’s radiance flared violently. With a sudden shudder, It tore free briefly from the Withering King’s grasp.

Then, a terrifying power gathered—striking not the Withering King, but... Muen.

His eyes went wide. Death alarms screamed in his {N•o•v•e•l•i•g•h•t} mind again.

Never had he imagined that when It was about to be dragged away and devoured, the Silent Moon would not turn to fight the Withering King, but instead—attack him?!

What grudge, what enmity?!

Wasn’t it just that he’d “accidentally” let the Black Book reveal Its weakness to the Withering King, making It hunted ever since?

Was that worth this?!

It wasn’t even on purpose!

If anything, go blame the Love God!

Muen bristled like a cat whose tail was stepped on, face pale.

But he could not sit still. Under the Withering King’s restraint, the Silent Moon couldn’t unleash divine might as freely as before. This attack was but a fraction of Its power. If he gave everything, there might yet be a sliver of survival!

Grinding his teeth, Muen drove his newborn flames to burn hotter.

Just a moment—he only needed to endure for a moment.

The Withering King would surely seize the chance, deal a fatal blow!

But just as Muen tensed, ready for death or life, the Evil God’s gathered power—like a faint mist of moonlight—suddenly swerved midair.

It did not strike Muen.

It fell upon—Anna.

The Silent Moon’s true target was his senior!

Muen’s face contorted in fury. Never had he expected It to copy his own trick of feint and strike elsewhere, and use it against him!

The killing intent of Silent Moon was so real it had triggered his death alarms, making him dismiss the possibility entirely.

Damn it!

Muen hurled himself toward Anna.

Thanks to Eiso’s phantom, he was already beside her.

But even half a meter was like a chasm.

Moonlight descended, lifting Anna again into its grip.

Muen’s eyes widened blood-red. Flames burst, and he resolved to smash his flesh directly against that cold moonlight of annihilation.

He had come this far—how could he let it take her again?!

He roared inwardly, eyes shut tight, bracing for agony and death.

But—the expected despair never came.

In that instant, amidst the chaos, he heard a sound—air ripping.

Like a sharp weapon tearing through the sky.

...Eh?

Instead, he found her in his arms, that body not soft but stiff, safely caught.

Dazed, he lifted his head—

And saw it.

In the very center of that enormous blue moon, an arrow was lodged.

Plain, almost inconspicuous.

Yet crystalline, gleaming under moonlight, exquisite beyond compare.

And the moment it struck, blood-like veins spread from the tip, webbing outward.

Like poison.

Poison carrying the intent to kill.

Under it, the cold moonlight began to unravel.

That was—the Origin Stone!

The countless crimson eyes of the Silent Moon spun wildly, fixing on the rift torn in the mist by the Withering King.

Through it, they saw an old man, age-spotted, raising a bow. Upon his head a dazzling crown gleamed. From the fog’s edge, with the near-divine might of the Crowned, he pierced the corona and moon’s barriers to loose this inescapable arrow.

“How does it feel, Moon?”

Through bleary eyes, the old man peered through the rift and smiled.

“For an old man with one foot in the coffin—this pent-up rage and resentment packs a punch, doesn’t it?”