“You need exactly this kind of completely inert, ordinary substance,” Mela explained lightly, though her expression was equally serious. “The safest way to seal a Demon God remnant is total isolation—no contact with any form of power. Otherwise it might regain activity.”

“Of course, this method isn’t perfectly safe either,” she added. “Afterward, bring it to the Academy as soon as possible. I’ll suppress it beneath the Sea of Mercury.”

“The Sea of Mercury...”

Muen rubbed his chin. He remembered there was already some Demon God remnant sealed down there. If it was a facility specifically meant for containing such things, then yes—it was reassuring.

But...

“Me?”

Muen pointed at himself, bewildered. “You want me to escort it?”

“Who else?” Mela’s head spun in a circle. “Do I look like I can carry things right now?”

“...”

Muen looked her up and down. This Mela was clearly just a projected fragment—and at that, only a head. She really didn’t look capable of carrying anything.

He glanced at An, then up at the vast hollow overhead. A distant roaring swept across the heights—the dragon revered as Calamity still hadn’t left. It continued circling above Gutongs Castle.

“Don’t even think about it. If Calamity showed up over the imperial capital, how much chaos do you think that would cause? Every powerhouse in the Empire would be on edge. That would only blow things up further,” Mela said. “I can have her give you a lift as far as the border. After ⊛ Nоvеlιght ⊛ (Read the full story) that, you’re on your own.”

With the air of a shameless employer, she encouraged him:

“You’re my most trusted disciple, after all. I’m sure you can do it.”

“...Fine.”

Muen’s cheek twitched, but he could do nothing about this infuriating faux-loli. He sealed the metal container and had An hermetically close it.

“Figures. I’m just fated to be the pack mule,” Muen sighed miserably. “Not like this is the first or second time. I’m used to it.”

“Relax. This is far safer than the things you’ve done before,” Mela said, exasperated. “Inactivated Demon God blood isn’t suddenly going to wake up and beat you. What are you scared of?”

“I’m not scared of the Demon God blood. I’m scared of...”

Muen pointed at the container. Though made of cold steel, it felt burning-hot in his hands.

“You really think if I carry something like this back to the capital, nothing weird is going to pop out halfway and try to snatch it? This is Demon God blood. That’s exactly the kind of thing every freak and monster would drool over!”

What if some Evil God suddenly jumped out and threw an impromptu, thrilling Evil God party?

Guess who’d get invited. Lord of the Stars? Mother of Abundance? Or...

Given his personal knack for attracting Evil Gods, Muen figured the odds were highest that they’d all show up together.

“Imagination’s vivid. But this time you’re overthinking,” Mela rolled her eyes. “Inactivated Demon God blood emits no aura, has no coordinates. Those Evil Gods are far away—they struggle just to send down a projection. Who could possibly track your position?”

Then, with unwavering certainty, she added:

“Unless they intercept you right here.”

“Right. Then I can relax—...wait.”

Halfway through his relieved exhale, Muen suddenly froze. “What do you mean, intercept me right here?”

Mela didn’t answer. She merely looked off to the side.

Muen’s eyelid twitched. Pulling An behind him, he turned his gaze cautiously in the same direction.

In a corner untouched by candlelight, at some unknown moment, a pool of vivid blood had begun to spread.

The crimson was stark in the darkness. Yet before Mela pointed it out, neither Muen nor An had noticed it at all.

“Who’s there?”

“Ah, please—there’s no need for alarm.”

Within the blood pool, a figure wavered. A gentleman in a top hat and black formalwear, refined in bearing, stepped slowly out from the blood.

The elderly gentleman wore a gentle smile. Not a trace of danger clung to him. His polished leather shoes tapped rhythmically on the stone floor. Like a courteous traveler who had happened upon acquaintances, he removed his hat and bowed.

“Rest assured, I have absolutely no intention of taking the Demon God blood. To us, it is nothing more than repulsive filth.”

“...You.”

Muen didn’t relax in the slightest at the man’s manner. If anything, recognizing that face made his heart leap higher.

If Teacher Mela’s head hadn’t been here, he’d already be considering screaming for the Black Book...

The reason he’d think of that immediately was simple: Muen knew that against this gentleman, he had zero chance of escape or resistance. If the man truly chose to act, without outside help there would be only one end.

Because he was the Salvation Society’s Second Seat—the Black Knight.

A Crowned One who had battled Shenyi’s avatar atop the Tower.

“Black Knight... what exactly did you come here for?”

Muen frowned slightly, quietly retreating with An until they stood behind Mela’s head.

“I’m just a head. What’s the point of hiding behind me?” Mela said flatly.

“It’s psychologically comforting.”

“...”

“Mr. Campbell truly needn’t be so tense. I have no intention of violence.”

The Black Knight bowed again—but not to Muen. To Mela.

Even with only a head remaining, he still showed proper respect.

“The Calamity remains nearby, so I would not be foolish enough to seek death at such a time. I appear today only as a representative of our Holy Master, to pose a question to the esteemed Mentor Meladomir.”

“Your Holy Master?” Mela arched a brow. “Ah, yes—the so-called Savior, right? The Pope brat mentioned him.”

“To have his title known by Mentor Meladomir would surely honor the Holy Master.”

“Oh, he made quite the impression,” Mela nodded solemnly. “The Pope brat complained about him nonstop for half an hour. Anyone capable of making a Pope that annoyed is rare indeed. I’ve tricked him plenty and never saw him that angry—so at least in magnanimity he still qualifies as a Pope.”

“...Mentor Meladomir jests,” the Black Knight said, smile briefly stiffening; a few strands of his immaculate silver hair fell out of place. “All of this is merely misunderstanding by the world under that hypocritical Church.”

“Enough chatter. I’m not interested in misunderstandings,” Mela said. “What does he want to ask?”

“The Holy Master wishes to ask...” The Black Knight bent even lower. “Will you truly not reconsider our proposal?”

“Proposal?” A glint passed through Mela’s eyes.

“You know what I mean,” the Black Knight smiled. “Our actions, and their ultimate aim—though the foolish masses fail to understand, surely they cannot escape your sight. As we proclaim: to save the world. Nothing more.”

“....”

Mela did not answer. She simply closed her eyes in thought.

The atmosphere turned strangely still.

Muen’s mind began racing. The Salvation Society was the most infamous terrorist organization on the continent—slaughtering humans and attacking the Church in the name of salvation. They’d even assaulted the Holy City.

And now the Black Knight had come to Mela again, speaking of some proposal?

A proposal about what?

Just as Muen’s curiosity threatened to burst—

Mela opened her eyes.

A chill killing intent descended. Muen and An felt nothing—but the Black Knight, a Crowned One, began to tremble faintly.

Just as before Shenyi, though this projection held no power, it still bore the presence and authority of the world’s greatest archmage.

“Get out.”

Mela’s voice turned cold.

“Before my mood worsens to the point I decide to kill someone, take your idiotic proposal and leave.”

“...It seems there is nothing further to discuss.”

The Black Knight sighed regretfully. But he had clearly expected this outcome. Without hesitation, he turned and sank back into the pool of blood.

“I will convey your answer,” he said at last.

The voice echoed faintly through the space, then faded—as though it had never existed.

“What did the Salvation Society want from you, Teacher Mela? What proposal?” Muen finally asked.

“Don’t overthink it. Just the ravings of madmen,” Mela said, instantly calm again, her head bobbing. “This miserable world lacks nothing so much as self-righteous lunatics. No need to make a fuss.”

“But compared to that meaningless question, you have something else you should be taking seriously right now.”

“Something else?”

Muen scratched his head. The interceptor had left. What else—

Wait.

It clicked.

The Black Knight’s arrival had been abrupt, but he hadn’t come specifically to intercept Muen. He’d said it himself—he had zero interest in the Demon God blood. His goal had simply been to ask Mela a question.

And if the Black Knight was still here, then the other entity who had fought Shenyi...

...should also still be here.

Muen’s eyes sharpened. Behind him, An seemed to sense it too; her composed face hardened with killing intent.

Tap. Tap.

Another set of footsteps sounded in the darkness.

Unlike the Black Knight’s measured tread, these steps were uneven—like a staggering puppet.

Pink mist seeped outward. Before it could spread far, it blackened into dust. From that pink-turned-black haze, a figure lurched forward.

A woman’s silhouette.

She wore magnificent, multicolored garments. The rare finery of demonfolk nobility marked her exalted status. Though every inch of flesh had rotted away, Muen recognized her instantly.

The Enchantress Grand Duke.

But she couldn’t be the Enchantress Grand Duke. The Myriad-Age Cycle was destroyed. All demonfolk, regardless of rank, had become returning souls.

She was—

【Heehee...】

The Enchantress Grand Duke’s cheek split open. A grotesque eyeball rolled out from within, greedily staring at the metal box in Muen’s hands.

【Demon God blood... mine...】

The voice was chaotic, distorted—barely human speech.

And Muen... really couldn’t hold it together anymore.

“...You again?”

That classic late-stage recurring villain NPC.

Not even on the guest list for this party—

The corrupted Love God had arrived uninvited.