The hands' owner pushed the door open and stepped inside. Head of House Morris—his face drained of color—lay on the bed, vacant-eyed, staring at the moon. Moonlight threw his shadow onto the wall, stretching the silhouette into something long, strange, and pathetic.
The woman lifted a hand.
Snap.
It was like tossing a pebble into still water. Ripples shivered outward—the silence broken, the air itself stirred. She seemed to step out from the shadows, rejoining the world.
Head of House Morris, who'd been staring blankly out the window, jolted as if waking from a dream.
"Who are you? How did you get in?"
Panic flashed across his face—then he clamped his mouth shut.
Because the woman smiled and raised her right hand. On the little finger of that pale, delicate hand was a ring—utterly plain, yet so dark it seemed capable of swallowing light itself.
No ornate runes. No identifying decoration.
The ring's existence was identification enough.
Immeasurable magic was sealed within it, and she toyed with it between her fingers as if it were a trinket.
And everyone knew this: in this world, ring-shaped artifacts were as countless as grains of sand. But rings like that—
There were only twelve.
"A Ring… a Ring is actually here, right under Tivira's nose…"
Head of House Morris shuddered. His already pallid cheeks took on the sick hue of someone seeing a ghost—but as a leader among the Eight Great Houses, he forced himself to calm down.
Any other time, as the Head of House of one of the Zijinghua Empire's founding Houses, if he encountered the Tower of Chronomancy's Twelve Rings, he had only one option: burn every last shred of mana and every protective artifact he possessed, and pay any price to warn the Empress that an enemy had arrived.
But now, after that first shock, he lowered his head in obedient deference.
Because now…
They were friends.
Before the Holy Trial, he could still cling to thoughts like I'm just using them, or it's only temporary cooperation. But the Holy Trial's failure had crushed him under suffocating pressure.
Not because of the physical price he'd paid—
But because of Linen.
His clansmen had already reported what happened right before the Holy Trial ended: the Trial had actually exposed the dragonblood scandal that, for generations, only House Morris had secretly passed down… and it had announced that the Empress would launch a sweeping investigation into House Morris.
Head of House Morris didn't believe a "purge" could uproot a House that had sunk roots into Zijinghua for thousands of years.
The Eight Great Houses weren't idiots. In eras when emperors were too distracted—or too slow—to restrain them, every House had done everything possible to thread its tendrils into every corner of the empire's vast body. To rip any one of them out by the roots would demand a price so severe that even an Empress famed for decisive brutality would have to think twice, three times.
The Bloodstained Red Dragon had indeed placed enormous pressure on the Eight Great Houses—but it was still bearable.
You're strong. You're vigilant. You're brilliant.
But you can't be everywhere forever.
And there would come a day—
The day you die.
Even the emperors of House Norton, blessed with long lives by dragonblood, would eventually be replaced. And when that time came, the Eight Great Houses would have their chance.
But there was a premise.
There couldn't be a second Bloodstained Red Dragon.
Tonight changed everything for Head of House Morris.
Not because he'd lost the Holy Trial—something so narrow and petty—
But because he'd seen something far more terrifying.
Linen's victory in the Holy Trial had earned him a Heroic Spirit Blessing… and seven blessings from the First Emperor.
Which meant: he was no longer a dragonbloodless trash prince, no longer a disposable tool. He was now one of the candidates qualified to inherit the throne.
And when Head of House Morris heard about Linen's performance in the Trial, his scalp went cold.
In the Holy Trial, he had done what even his mother hadn't been able to do.
He had annihilated the First Emperor's era Eight Great Houses—at their peak, at their strongest.
Which meant: if he was allowed to grow, the Eight Great Houses might one day face a new emperor even more ruthless than the Red Dragon—an emperor carrying the First Emperor's blessing.
He had to be strangled tonight.
Head of House Morris had made his decision. It wasn't even his first deal with them. This time, he was simply raising the relationship from "transaction" to something deeper.
With that in mind, he forced a smile and addressed the woman.
"I never imagined tonight's plan would be honored by your presence. That makes everything much more secure. But may I ask what brings you here? I'll do everything in my power to assist."
The woman nodded, satisfied.
"Good. I'm not too late. We can talk for a couple of minutes before things begin. Slipping away from Reinhardt isn't easy—too many eyes are on that old lion."
"T-talk… with me?!"
Even though he'd already decided to deepen their cooperation, her tone still left Head of House Morris flattered beyond belief.
Before, the one who contacted him had only been a Seven-Ring Arcana Mage. He had never dared hope a Ring-level powerhouse would even remember his name.
The woman seemed to catch the misunderstanding, and she laughed under her breath.
"Hahahaha. My dear Mr. Morris—why would you think that? Relax. Of course not with you. Hey." Her gaze slid past him. "How long are you planning to sleep?"
This room had been arranged by the Empress, specifically for his rest. If the woman came here not for him—then who?
"Y-you… what are you talking about? You're looking for someone else? I'm sorry to disappoint you, but there's only me here."
He gave a dry laugh, swallowing hard. A nameless unease churned in his chest. And when he saw the impatience at her lips—the contempt in her eyes—his heart sank with a heavy clunk.
Trembling, Head of House Morris followed her gaze downward.
On the ring finger of his right hand was a ring identical to hers.
A Ring?!
It looked not so different from the one on her little finger—yet it was worlds apart.
"Eh? On my hand? Why—when—what is—no, that's not—y-you…! Aaaah!"
On the wall, the shadow suddenly clutched its head and screamed.
He remembered.
He remembered what had been done when the Tower of Chronomancy made its deal with him—when they'd strengthened his body and soul.
Right under the eyes of three high-Ring Arcana Mages of House Morris, that man had strolled over. With the slightest flick of a hand, everyone—including an old monster of House Morris who was close to the Eighth Ring—forgot the fact that the man had placed something into the Head of House's soul.
Now, that thing parasitizing his soul—no bigger than a bean, so insignificant—began to drink greedily of its nourishment. It swelled at a visible speed, as if it meant to devour Head of House Morris whole.
His ambition. His House. Even his very self—
All of it began to vanish from his mind.
"N-no… don't…"
The woman crossed her arms, looking down from above, watching with satisfied calm.
Soon the screaming died away. Head of House Morris lifted his head again.
His face, his features, even the way mana flowed through his body—none of it had changed. But his eyes were different: tranquil, profound, no longer his.
He met the woman's gaze, and Head of House Morris—no, the parasite—spoke in a voice gentle and composed.
"Good evening, Mordiana. I'm pleased to see you again. But waking me now is a little early, isn't it? This body may still have greater value."
"Stop talking."
Mordiana snorted. At last, she fully emerged from the dark—a girl of about twenty, wearing a deep-purple Lolita skirt with layered pleats. Every detail of her brow and eyes radiated arrogance.
And once you saw the ring on her little finger, no one would ever question that arrogance.
Even facing the holder of another ring, Mordiana's attitude didn't change in the slightest.
"Then keep playing this man. Reading his fate isn't hard for you, is it?"
The parasite shook its head.
"Regrettably, my friend. Reading a person's fate may still be within my ability. But harmonizing myself with another's destiny… even for me, I'm only a child fumbling through study. No different from any apprentice in your mage tower."
"Such pretty words," Mordiana said with a cold smile. "A soul parasite that lives off other people's destinies."
She tilted her chin.
"I'm here for you—so you understand what that means, yes?"
"Of course."
The parasite nodded, raising both hands before itself as though holding an invisible book. Brilliant blue stars reflected in its eyes. In a posture that was almost devout, it read the stars' revelation.
"You are about to begin your hunt. By the sages' guidance, I will divine for you. To hunt the Dragon King in a kingdom that walks with dragons—this is a plan rich with challenge. But congratulations, Mordiana. The stars have revealed your road to me. Your future will be bright."
"As it should be," Mordiana said, unhurriedly nodding.
Though she looked like nothing more than a young woman, to a Ring-level mage, age had long since become one of the most worthless scraps in the sea of memory. Even the current Red Dragon Empress was, to her, little more than a child.
Yes.
Hunting the Empress—that was the Tower of Chronomancy's true plan.
A Dragonblood Festival needed dragon blood to ignite its climax.
Mordiana would use the Empress's blood to remind the world of the fear the Tower of Chronomancy once ruled with.
That was Zijinghua's "reward" for making the Tower repeatedly eat losses—and for taking away a high-Ring Arcana Mage who'd also been a candidate for the Rings.
"But there are still some variables in fate," the parasite said after a brief hesitation. "You should be careful."
"Oh?"
Mordiana arched a brow.
"Tivira Norton may already be prepared."
"Hahahahaha!"
Mordiana burst out laughing.
"Looks like while you were asleep inside this man, you really knew nothing at all. Isn't that obvious?"
She remembered the Empress in the banquet hall—standing upright on the throne, her mouth curved in faint derision.
"That woman—that arrogant Red Dragon—she's known from the beginning that she's the one being hunted. And yet she stayed here. Why?"
"Why?" the parasite asked, genuinely perplexed.
From its perspective, the instant it observed danger in fate, it would abandon its current host and flee.
If she were the Empress, the best solution would be to have Quinn impersonate her, then slip back to the capital and raise a nation-guarding barrier. As for everyone left in the castle—
Abandon them.
"That," Mordiana said with scorn, "is where your kind and ours are different."
"Because she wants to hunt us, too. That arrogant bastard of a woman. She thinks we're sewer rats—trash that can't stand the light. She wants to use our lives to display her majesty and strength, as if she's basking in the glory of those 'great' but brainless ancestors of hers. She didn't even mobilize her proud Red Dragon Legion—because she's afraid we'll catch the wind and run."
"Logically," the parasite said, "the moment the Red Dragon learned of us, we should have reevaluated the plan. But you won't."
"No, I won't," Mordiana said. "You little bug are getting more and more human."
She patted the parasite's cheek.
"Not only won't I—I'm going to meet that Empress in a different way. Sneak out of the Shadow Realm when she meets Reinhardt, use a forbidden spell for a surprise strike, then teleport and run. What kind of terrified trash would come up with that? Since the Empress doesn't want to see my 'legion,' then I'll let her see my legion myself."
"You mean to awaken those things…" the parasite said slowly. "Not the best method. But fate is still on our side."
"Whatever. Waking you was just procedure anyway." Mordiana shrugged. "And besides—compared to hunting that woman, I've found a more interesting little toy."
"A toy?"
"No harm telling you." Mordiana's lips curled again.
"The Red Dragon's third son. Zijinghua's prince, Linen Norton. The little thing who defeated your host. For a sewer-dwelling piece of trash to climb this far—something interesting must be helping him. And if he got here on his own strength… that's even more interesting."
"And—"
A gleam of malicious amusement flashed in her eyes.
"Seems like Tivira is pretty protective of that kid right now. If I bind him and play with him right in front of her… just imagining it gets me high, hahahaha!"
"I know who you mean." The parasite nodded. "An insignificant role—you may do as you like. But there are people around him. You should be cautious."
"Who?" Mordiana said impatiently.
"The Flame Rose Empire's imperial princess, Hysteria, and a female student called Elena. Those two are named by our companions. By the agreement between Rings, you may not touch them without authorization."
Mordiana gave an absent-minded "Mm," silently deciding that if those two little things dared get in her way, she'd kill them.
"Then that's that. After one last divination for you, I'll leave. May you be blessed with victory."
The parasite was about to open the volume of destiny again, but disgust surfaced in Mordiana's eyes. She waved a hand.
"No need. The little ones I've hidden in the Shadow Realm can barely hold back anymore. Just leave. Even if I fail, I'll run. I'm not an idiot."
That wasn't arrogance.
That was confidence.
A powerhouse who could freely enter and exit the Shadow Realm was almost impossible to kill.
If one had to name a method, the only way to kill Mordiana was with overwhelmingly powerful divine magic—precisely why she felt so secure.
But Zijinghua was a nation starved of faith. Its residents believed in whichever god happened to be handing out eggs that day.
A thousand years ago, when the First Emperor still lived, there had been a substitute above divine magic—the Golden Holy Light Dragon's blessing-light.
And now there was, indeed, someone carrying that Golden Holy Light Dragon blessing.
Linen.
In fact, Mordiana wanted to take Linen partly to study the Sacred Dragon blessing on him. Call it the crime of holding a treasure.
Mordiana wasn't stupid. She wouldn't leave the son of an enemy who naturally countered her and allow him to grow.
She was practically looking forward to the expression on Tivira's face when she humiliated Linen.
As for the threat posed by Linen's Sacred Dragon blessing, Mordiana didn't care much.
Because Linen was simply too weak.
A tiny, feeble little thing like him—even with a Heroic Spirit Blessing—would surely have a pitifully weak heroic spirit. Some minor god's spirit, perhaps. If it were the First Emperor of House Norton, Mordiana might feel some wariness… but that heroic spirit was clearly a girl. One look and it was obvious: impossible.
Mordiana couldn't imagine how she could lose.
She didn't wait for the parasite to move again. Her figure vanished from where she stood.
The parasite showed a very human sort of helplessness. What it was worst at, after all, was dealing with human Arcana Mages—even if they were now a collective, serving the same power.
It lifted a hand to close the Book of Fate—
And froze.
In Mordiana's star-bright destiny, several massive variables had appeared—black, and shining.
To be precise, they could no longer be called "variables." They were more like… omens of death. If no one warned Mordiana in time, this Ring-level powerhouse truly might fall here.
"This is… bad," the parasite murmured, frowning like a human, and making a swift decision.
"I should run first."
...
At the same time, above the castle, Mordiana appeared against the pitch-black night. She raised both hands high. A vast surge of mana spread a new darkness across the sky, completely shrouding the castle and everything around it.
Mordiana laughed wildly. Shadows beneath her skirt flowed into the earth like liquid night.
"Come, my legion. Let that arrogant Red Dragon see that you exist."
Where the shadows covered, countless malformed, roaring creatures clawed their way out and charged the castle in a frenzy.
"Mana Spirits—so many Mana Spirits!"
"Notify the people inside the castle and Your Majesty—now!"
The castle guards recognized the monsters at once. These creatures, elemental power running amok across their bodies, were a legion made of Mana Spirits!
A guard sprinted toward the interior. Suddenly, from an unremarkable shadow by the corner, a palm-sized Lightning Arcana, mouse-shaped Mana Spirit darted out, baring its fangs as it lunged for the guard's throat.
BANG!
A violent crack erupted. The mouse-shaped Mana Spirit was blasted away by the impact, spinning end over end before bursting apart into eight pieces.
"Your Highness Novie—no, Captain of the Holy Sword!"
The rescued guard shouted in delight.
Novie nodded. She blew smoke from her gun barrel, tipped her chin to send him on his way, and slid the short pistol back into the holster strapped to her thigh.
Three tall figures sprang out behind her, rushing toward the guard. He instinctively tightened his grip on his sword—
Only to find that the three men in priestly robes ignored him entirely, crowding around the slain Mana Spirit and clicking their tongues in amazement.
"Mercy. May the Earth Mother God grant this poor life peaceful rest."
"Hey! That's the Moon Goddess's job, you old bastard. Stay in your lane!"
"You two—don't make us look this pathetic! I mean… ahem. Your Highness Novie, it seems it's time we were needed, yes? Ahem. I mean—that thing… when can you let us… touch it? No, no—just let us see it again! That's fine too!"
Staring at those three huge faces—their eager expressions, their eyes burning with desire—Novie's gaze turned even colder, even more disgusted.
She turned her back, pulled out a communication artifact, and connected to her only contact.
"Brother, it's confirmed. The enemy is a Mana Spirit legion, and there's a huge spread of shadows."
"Good work, Novie."
In the banquet hall, amid the rising panic of the crowd, Linen held the other half of the communication artifact and nodded to himself.
The Phantasmal Shadow Calamity… Mana Spirit Queen Mordiana?
For me… that's basically a winning ticket.
He glanced again at Lily, the heroic spirit at his side, who was curiously observing everything around her in a way no one else could see. He smiled without a sound.
But for you—
I'm absolutely your worst luck.
"Oh, right—Novie." Linen's voice stayed calm. "You can hand that thing to the three priests. We'll be relying on them a lot next. Remember to be a little nicer."
"Understood, Brother. Don't worry. Um…"
As the call was about to end, Novie's cheeks reddened slightly. Her voice shrank.
"What is it?"
"C-can you… reward me with a kiss? I didn't even get to join the ball tonight…"
"Of course," Linen said, smiling.
"But after we're done."
"Okay~"
Satisfied, Novie cut the connection—only to look up and see three big, expectant faces staring at her again.
Her expression instantly went dark.
"Y-Your Highness Novie, we didn't hear anything! We kept a great distance!"
"Yeah, yeah!"
"Me too!"
"Shut up, you three pieces of trash. Come take it yourselves."
Face cold, Novie reached into her storage ring and pulled out three massive leather cases. Amid the priests' cheers, she lifted a boot and smashed the locks with a sharp kick, revealing the vicious contents inside.
Three six-barrel rotary machine guns—steel gleaming with murderous chill—shone brilliantly under the castle lights.
---
T/N: all that talk :sob:
bonus chaps
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200 stones -> 2 chapters
300 stones -> 3 chapters
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