Inside one of the Academy’s lounges, the Church members—having just received the synchronized news—erupted into a heated frenzy!
“Dammit, Pandora betrayed us!”
“The secret of the Box has been exposed!”
“What do we do now?”
“Is our only choice to fight to the death?”
“Everyone, shut up!” Mother Superior Natya barked, her voice cutting through the panic.
Once the room fell silent, she swept her hand through the air. “Stop talking nonsense. Does ‘fighting to the death’ even accomplish anything? This is the enemy’s home turf. We have no reinforcements. All the enemy has to do is tamper with the food and water, and we’ll be too weak to walk, left to be captured like sitting ducks.”
Though the Order of Sisters and the Expeditionary Force were transcendents, their extraordinary powers were derived from Sacrosanct Suits and ancient relics. Their bodies remained flesh and blood; they still needed to eat and drink.
An offensive had no clear target, and a retreat would mean a trek of thousands of kilometers. They had arrived with the element of surprise, but now that they were being watched, going back would be nearly impossible.
The Lantern-Bearers only needed to monitor their movements and spike any nearby water or food sources. In a matter of days, the Church members would be paralyzed with hunger, waiting for someone to come pick them up. If they dispersed, the Lantern-Bearer squads would simply pick them off one by one—an even more humiliating fate.
In the midst of the despair, someone whispered, “We still have the Messiah!”
“You want to place your hopes on someone who hasn’t even spoken a word yet?” Natya countered, her brows knitting together.
“We can pretend he is powerful,” Richel suddenly suggested.
A strange, eerie silence filled the lounge. Every eye in the room fixed on the female knight.
Richel’s eyes widened slightly as she lowered her voice, speaking with an air of mystery. “No one knows the Messiah’s true depths. As long as we act with absolute confidence, the enemy will be intimidated. They won’t dare to make a move rashly.”
“Is that actually viable? It sounds incredibly stupid,” Natya said, rubbing her temples.
“Who would believe that the elite of the Holy Kingdom’s Church would go all out, gamble everything by penetrating deep into Evernight, and burn their bridges with no way back—all for something with no clear purpose?” Richel argued.
“There’s some logic to that. But we’ll be exposed the moment he has to fight.”
“Therefore, we must promote the Messiah as an existence that can only be used a limited number of times, but one that can absolutely annihilate any enemy…”
Not long after, Granahl appeared at the doorway. The space around her seemed to warp and distort, radiating a crushing pressure of pure despair!
As her cold, merciless gaze swept over them, the Church members felt a chill run down their spines, leaving them silenced by fear.
“When we first formed our alliance, I don’t recall hearing anything about a ‘Pandora’s Box’…”
As the crimson figure floated into the room, foul, viscous blood suddenly welled up from the floor. Within the swaying waves of gore, countless faces emerged, letting out shrill, agonizing wails—a literal landscape of hell.
Where the blood touched the sisters’ skin, they felt a needle-like stinging pain. Their legs froze and lost all sensation; even their Sacrosanct Suits couldn’t withstand the erosion of this frigid, dark power.
“What a wonderful surprise!” Granahl stood in the center of the room, letting out a terrifying roar.
“Great Granahl, please calm your anger. Regarding the Box, we truly were in the dark. How could the Church—which upholds purity and beauty—possibly commit an act of genocide? Furthermore, the authenticity of the Box itself is questionable. I suspect that person named Wang Yue is framing us. Please, do not fall for her trap!” Natya said, forcing herself to speak.
Naturally, they couldn’t just admit to it. They had to play the denial game first. After all, there was no concrete evidence yet to prove Pandora was one of their own.
“Fine then. How about we take the Box to the Holy Kingdom and open it? I heard the conditions are almost met. I’d love to see what’s inside—I’ve always loved unboxing things!” Granahl demanded, her blood-red eyes glaring.
The Church members were speechless.
“Why are you silent?!”
Her roar whipped up a violent storm, tearing the walls and ceiling like paper and blasting them into the air! Rain began to pour down, drenching the floor and turning the blood into a swirling mess.
“Do not force us into a mutual destruction!” Natya suddenly looked up, staring fearlessly into the eyes of the maddened Crimson figure. Her voice was exceptionally firm as she declared, “The Messiah’s power is beyond your imagination!”
The Church members dropped to their knees in unison, clasping their hands in prayer.
“The Messiah… an existence born from the ethereal void, surpassing all human imagination… The Messiah, who holds the thunder, exhales the wind and lightning, treads upon hell, and carries heaven upon his back…”
Natya suddenly noticed something. Wait, it’s actually working! Granahl seemed intimidated. A thoughtful light flickered in the Witch’s eyes—was she reconsidering her plans?
Feeling slightly more secure, the Mother Superior shifted to a more sincere tone. “Great Granahl, we admit this was an error. The Pandora’s Box project was initiated a long time ago by a secret department. We were genuinely unaware; it was a disconnect in management, a failure of coordination.”
She bowed sincerely in apology and continued, “You possess power, yet you lack the Truth. We are willing to compensate you. You may choose anything from the Church’s secret treasury, including the tools for researching the Truth that you have always been interested in…”
Whether it was the deterrent of the “Messiah” or the allure of the compensation, Granahl suppressed her aura and reached a new agreement with the Church.
Shortly after, Granahl returned to the assembly. She announced to the students that the Pandora’s Box was a fake, a forgery, and that the malicious individual who orchestrated this farce would be punished.
Wang Yue accepted this outcome readily. This was exactly what she wanted. It wouldn’t be good for the Restorationists and the Church to have a full-scale conflict right now; the battle would inevitably involve the students.
However, Granahl’s announcement was clearly unconvincing. The students were utterly disappointed. On the spot, several students felt their faith snap. Then, like a contagious disease, the disillusionment spread rapidly, and the New Church students disconnected from their faith one after another.
Granahl had become a general without an army—leaving her with only her four Witches.
A dead silence fell over the plaza. The students just stood there, blinking like bewildered anchovies.
In the small manor, moonlight streamed through the high arched windows.
Granahl sat upon a high-backed chair of scarlet velvet. Her body was as translucent and crystalline as an elf’s. She crossed her slender legs, her hands gripping the rosewood armrests carved with exquisite leaf patterns.
She stared for a long time at the black-haired girl standing before her. Then, in a high-pitched voice that sounded like clashing crystal, she spoke. “You have been ruining my plans at every turn.”
Wang Yue remained silent, effectively a tacit admission.
“It’s no wonder you are the key to all this. I must admit, you are impressive,” Granahl said, her tone shifting to one of appreciation.
Wang Yue smiled but still said nothing.
“Unfortunately for me, a dead enemy is a better enemy.” Granahl’s voice turned icy as she ground her teeth. “Due to the negotiations, I cannot kill you. However, I can subject you to the most brutal torture… Lilith.”
“Here!”
The Red-Horned Witch stepped forward, her eyes gleaming with excitement and bloodlust.
“Lock her up. Break her… No, even if she breaks, don’t stop. I leave her to you,” Granahl commanded.
Lilith raised a hand to cover her face, but nosebleed still stained her lips.
Inside the Disciplinary Committee jail cell.
Lilith sat on a low cot, holding a small booklet and flipping through it with great interest. The booklet was filled with clippings—four-panel comics from the Little Witch Daily.
Oh, hell…
Wang Yue was currently on all fours, quietly crawling toward the door, hoping to slip away while Lilith was distracted.
As she tried to pass in front of Lilith, her back suddenly felt heavy. A foot had stepped down on her, pinning her to the floor.
It’s over…
Something terrible is going to happen…
That damn Lulu’anna…
Didn’t she say she was going ‘clean’? Why is she still drawing that kind of stuff?
Sigh… I should have personally censored every issue of the Little Naughty Daily…
Wang Yue wanted to cry, but she had no tears left. She simply rolled over, hugged Lilith’s leg to her chest, and said softly, “Don’t do this, Lilith. It’s making things very difficult for me.”
“Heh. Stepping on you feels quite nice.”
Lilith placed her other foot—clad in black silk stockings—onto her as well.
From Wang Yue’s perspective, the blonde girl’s thighs were pressed against the edge of the cot, looking incredibly supple and full, as if they were about to burst. Though she couldn’t see Lilith’s feet, her hands were wrapped around two slender ankles that pressed into her palms with a dainty firmness. Against her chest, she could feel the soft, snug fit of the girl’s soles.
