She stepped over the threshold into the quiet room, her parasol humming faintly at her side, and whispered softly, almost to herself: "The work is never done... but this step... is complete."

  Her parasol hummed faintly, responding to her will, as if aware that tonight, the ritual would reach its culmination.

  She lifted it, letting its shadow stretch and twist unnaturally across the room, touching corners and doorways, bending the air with the quiet resonance of her power.

  And so, she chanted, slow and with gravitas.

  "The Shadow that walks Unseen;Silently under the Veil of All;Cloak in Darkness and Light..."

  She felt as though the illusion created by the mask had clung to her, casting an eternal darkness around her very form. She savor it briefly, feeling the essence of the night, of the unknown, of mystery shrouded inside her...

  Darkness pooled beneath her feet, crawling outward like living smoke, yet it did not touch her.

  Her breath deepened. The Malediction called to her, beckoning her forward. She could feel it answering, waiting to be given shape and voice again.

  She began again, louder this time, her voice carrying with the rhythm of inevitability.

  "The Malice within One's Soul;Fire that Consumes All;Malediction of Malevolent."

  She cast off the illusion, the shadows rippled again, but instead of erupting in a storm of power, they wrapped around the room like threads of silk.

  The pulse in her parasol thrummed faintly, a reminder of Hastur's presence.

  She felt the Malediction settle more firmly into her rhythm, a reminder that her control had grown. The violence and madness that threaten to eat her away were still there, yet she could control it, direct it as she sees fit.

  More tangible, more powerful...

  She lifted her hand, summoning a tendril of darkness, in it carried curses, powers that would make one sick from a single touch. And she could see it, the dim golden glint of Judgement, which means these tendrils she can create could attack the soul directly...

  Lea felt quite proud of herself; she had ascended to the Third Step in about three months since her start.

  This could be a record-breaking advancement, but knowing the mystical nature of this mad world, there could be someone who ascended to godhood in one go, if the conditions are right.

  =0=0=

  Having been able to get used to his powers now, he would not touch the strings of fate and destiny, not until Lady Keter allows it.

  Today, he was tasked by the Oath Keepers to scout the volcanic region, looking for hidden dangers. Rumors spoke of disturbances there, unusual tremors, scorched vilges, and shadows that moved against the wind.

  Jim approached cautiously, his senses alert, every muscle coiled for reaction.

  The closer he got to the volcanic heart, the more desote the nd became. Craters gaped like open wounds, rivers of molten rock twisted across bckened pins, and the air carried a sulfurous sting.

  And then he saw him.

  A lone figure, tall and menacing, cut a path through the devastation. With long hair yet unmistakably a man.

  Vilgers, animals, even the rocks themselves seemed to recoil as the man swung his sword with ruthless precision. Blood and ash mingled in the air, painting a scene of horror and carnage.

  Jim crouched behind a jagged outcrop, studying the figure. As he moved closer, he saw something unnatural... bck strings extending from the man, writhing like tendrils of shadow.

  Each string hummed with a strange energy, connecting to the bde he wielded.

  The sword itself looked fragile, almost brittle, its edges chipped, the metal cracked— but it pulsed with an unmistakable malevolence. The strings vibrated, and Jim felt the weight of their influence tug at his mind, whispering doubt and fear.

  He realized those bck strings weren't connected to the fragile, broken sword. And an unmistakable aura of divinity...

  The man's eyes met Jim's, a grin twisting across his face.

  "I am the Heavenly Demon...", the figure said, his voice calm yet carrying the cold finality of death itself, "And you... are in my way."

  Before he could react, the man swung the broken sword with terrifying speed.

  Jim felt the pressure of the strings, the echoes of violence, and with a burst of agility, he dashed away, his speed carrying him out of reach.

  Even at a safe distance, Jim's chest heaved, his mind reeling from the psychological impact.

  The devastation, the strings, the sheer casual cruelty, it clung to him like a shadow, a reminder that raw power and fragility could exist in terrifying harmony.

  Getting on top of a tree on the opposite side of the continent, he closed his eyes, chanted Lady Keter's Honorific Title... and entered the monochrome library.

  "Lady Keter... I've scouted the volcanic region. There's... a man. Wielding a sword. He sughtered everything in his path. Bck strings connected to the sword. And that man... he called himself the Heavenly Demon."

  On the other end, Lady Keter's expression was calm, composed as ever, but Jim noticed a subtle flicker in her eyes, an almost imperceptible arm.

  Her lips curved into a measured, calm tone.

  "Understood, you did well...", she said, voice steady. "Do not engage and keep your distance. Return once you have observed more. This Heavenly Demon... is not to be underestimated."

  Jim nodded, swallowing hard. Even with all his training and powers, the encounter left a lingering dread. The volcanic region was more dangerous than he had imagined, and the presence of the Heavenly Demon suggested a force unlike any he had yet faced.

  Leaving the library, Lady Keter was alone again.

  "So, one more of those guys had come.", she sighed, snapping her finger and summoning a book with a tree as the cover, and with no title.

  Her eyes stared at the tree; 16 Circles were lit up. She tapped one of the circles on the root, then opened up the book...

  "So, Law of Separation it is...", her eyes narrowed.

  The smoke and darkness that was "Miss Mashhith" came; the library screeched at its appearance, bending around it like a void.

  "Mashhith, please drop an invoice to Astrelnoia, ah, while you are at it, try to see if Nova is awake and could help."

  "Miss Mashhith" only let out a soundless inquiry.

  Lady Keter shook her head, "Him? No, that won't do. That thing is still looking for him, after all."

  After that, it sank into the darkness.

  She stretched herself, letting out a low moan as she closed her eyes.

  "Mhmm~ I guess I have to participate in another uneventful day..."

  =0=0=

  The Temple of Fire breathed with solemn rhythm. Priests intoned their prayers before the ever-burning fme, monks tended to the grove of sacred ash-trees, and the air smelled of incense and warm resin. The glow of the Sacred Fme bathed the chamber in gold, a symbol of purity and bance.

  Then a wrongness seeped through the temple, thick as tar invades. Candles guttered, trees groaned as though under pressure, and the monks froze mid-step.

  From the far wall, something emerged.

  It had no shape, only the suggestion of one, smoke, darkness, and ravings folded into the space of a being. The formless shadow slithered forward, and with every inch it took, the firelight recoiled, shrinking back like a frightened animal.

  The monks reacted instantly. Staffs scraped stone, prayer charms were raised, and protective chants began to build in the chamber.

  But the entity did not attack.

  It simply drifted toward the great fire pit, the Sacred Fme that never died. The monks' chanting faltered as the wrongness leaned over it, the sound of ravings, harmless yet eerie, made them all the more unsettled.

  Something thin, pale, and papery slipped from the shadow... just a piece of paper. It fluttered almost mockingly, carried by no wind, and fell neatly into the heart of the sacred bze.

  The fmes did not consume it. Instead, they hissed, crackled, and turned an ugly shade of violet for a heartbeat, as though acknowledging the intrusion.

  The priests cried out.

  "Defilement!", one roared.

  "Seal the intruder!"

  Staffs lifted, words of fire invoked. A surge of sacred energy was about to be unleashed—

  And then it was gone.

  The shadow simply colpsed inward, folding itself into a pinpoint, vanishing like it had never been there. Only the faint smell of scorched ink remained, and the unnatural purple flicker still licked the edges of the fme before fading back to gold.

  The monks stared, breathless, gripping their weapons and charms. The silence that followed was deafening.

  Something had been delivered. Something had been left behind.

  And the Temple of Fire had been invaded without a single blow struck.