When the radiance faded, Charlotte knelt on the empty shore by the lake, cold water lapping over his knees, fingertips pressed to the frozen earth, knuckles pale from exhaustion and the depletion of his Magic Power.
His shoulders heaved violently, breath ragged as a broken bellows, and the Originary Tune of Creation in his hand rested askew on the ground, droplets running down its blade, falling onto the ice and shattering into fine crystalline blossoms.
Ashore the center of the lake, Vivian Arlene collapsed upon the last three fragments of ice, her thin holy robes soaked through and clinging tightly to her trembling body.
The Moonblade that had once shone with Holy Light had long since lost all its brilliance, shrinking into a cold Silver Pendant swaying at her chest, reflecting a faint, obscured gleam through the mist.
“Heh heh heh heh…….”
Charlotte let out a low laugh, weary from survival, yet also brimming with years of suppressed hatred.
“Looks like, in the end, I’ve won, Miss Maid.”
The thick mist surged like a tide, swallowing the entire lake in an instant.
Within the damp fog, strands of Magic Power slid into Charlotte’s limbs like swimming fish; his taut muscles slowly relaxed, his rapid breathing gradually steadying.
This mist was his Domain of Mist—here, his Magic Power recovered at a remarkable pace, and for once, he felt relief.
He straightened, dragging the Originary Tune of Creation as he stepped toward the lake’s center.
The blade scraped across the ground, leaving a shallow frozen scar, and with each step, the water beneath his feet crystallized, the spreading “kakak” sound of growing ice echoing sharply across the silent lake.
Vivian Arlene trembled all over—not from cold, but because the shadow of death loomed so close.
She instinctively clenched the pendant at her chest, nails digging deep into her palm, the metallic tang of blood mingling with the chill of the lake.
“Heh… Still can’t do it… Aunt… I…”
Her whisper was as faint as a mosquito’s buzz, shredded by the fog and scattered on the wind.
“Did you ever imagine this day would come when you slaughtered my family?” Charlotte’s voice turned suddenly cold, as if shards of ice were slicing through the mist.
“When you branded us as Faithful of the Evil God, pushing elders and children onto the altar to be burned, did you ever think this day would come?”
Step by step, he pressed in, the ice beneath his feet already spreading to the fragments under Vivian Arlene, trapping the two on an isolated island in the center of the lake.
“We only wanted to survive,” sorrow surged in his eyes, “just to protect our home, our Heirloom, and live in peace… Is that truly an unforgivable sin?”
“You… What are you even talking about…”
Vivian Arlene knelt in the mist, gazing at the figure closing in on her.
“Heh… Looks like you’ve been well protected…”
Charlotte had no intention to say more. “I don’t hate you; the hatred has nothing to do with you. But, sorry, I can’t forgive you in someone else’s stead, nor can I forgive you all!”
Vivian Arlene no longer felt fear of death at this moment. She wanted to know what Charlotte meant, that mournful tone behind his words.
“What are you saying… You Faithful of the Evil God deserve to die! You’re the ones who turned this beautiful world into ruin!”
“You’re the one, what nonsense are you spouting! What wrong have we done?” Charlotte’s emotions burst forth, his distorted voice full of resentment in Vivian Arlene’s ears.
“Those massacres in History, were they false? You tried to awaken the Evil God, to plunge the world into chaos like the end of the Creation Age—was that false? Don’t you all deserve death? This is the Justice I’ve believed in since childhood!”
Vivian Arlene was furious, as if the person before her was denying History. She had already cast aside thoughts of her own death—she would not allow anyone to defile the Justice in her heart.
The thick fog blurred their faces, leaving only their voices echoing across the empty lake.
“Justice?” Charlotte sneered, his laughter biting cold.
“The Aetherlan Divine Church’s Justice is branding all dissenters as Faithful of the Evil God, then slaughtering them with a clear conscience? You burn books that differ from yours, alter History, your Gods rewrite the memory of all living things just to justify your own brutality—isn’t that so?”
Since childhood, she’d been taught that the Aetherlan Divine Church was the world’s guardian, and that Faithful of the Evil God were the root of all disasters.
But Charlotte’s grief was so real, so raw, that it unsettled her heart.
“Rewrite memories? What are you talking about?! That’s impossible!”
Charlotte took a slow step forward, the ice beneath his feet giving a subtle crack, blending with Vivian Arlene’s hurried breaths.
Charlotte’s weapon hovered over her head; letting her die like this felt far from satisfying.
He wanted to torment her, to make her die in agony…
Yet in the next instant, Charlotte calmed down.
The Originary Tune of Creation in his hand glowed faintly…
[Originary Tune of Creation]
This artifact could change form according to the wielder’s will; it could transform into any kind of weapon.
But more importantly, the reason it was called an artifact—true to its name, the Originary Tune of Creation, it could harmonize all powers of the world.
No matter how wild Magic Power or Fighting Aura was, in contact with the Tune, they’d grow gentle. The turmoil in Charlotte’s heart was the same.
Aifel reappeared at Charlotte’s side.
“Are you going to kill her? Now?”
Charlotte hesitated.
If he killed her now, there would be one less enemy in the future. But what then?
The Holy Maiden being killed in the Kalishi Empire would surely bring the Divine Church’s armies down on this land once more.
If he let her go, would he ever get such a chance again?
“No… Impossible… How could anyone rewrite everyone’s memories?” She shook her head, tears streaming uncontrollably, chilled by the lake’s cold to the point of pain in her cheeks.
“If this is true… then what has the Justice I have upheld meant all along?”
“There’s no need for me to explain to you.”
Just as his blade was about to fall, a golden sword-light tore through the mist like lightning, slashing toward Charlotte’s waist!
“Saintess Highness!” Beccas’ furious roar crashed in with Holy Light, and she appeared as a golden afterimage shielding Vivian Arlene.
The Knight Sword in her hand still trembled, evidence of a desperate strike.
Charlotte could only twist aside; the tip of the Tune’s blade grazed Beccas’ pauldron, sparking as it slid past.
“Aunt…” Vivian Arlene’s sob was filled with the trembling of one who had just escaped death.
Sensing the lingering Divine Power of the Moonblade, Beccas had hurried over without pause.
Now, like a lioness guarding her cub, she sheltered Vivian Arlene firmly behind her.
Aifel whispered, “Charlotte, let’s go. No need to use up your last bit of strength here for her.”
Charlotte nodded, but his gaze was fixed on Vivian Arlene’s face.
He pronounced every word: “Saintess Highness, I’ve never hated any particular person. But as long as I have the chance… I’ll never hesitate to take your life.”
“Faithful of the Evil God! How dare you—”
“Shut up.” Charlotte’s tone suddenly sharpened, and the mist around him surged into a wall.
“I hate it most when people interrupt me.”
The Divine Power of the Initial Mist erupted, like a transparent layer of amber sealing the entire lake in frost.
Time seemed to be forcibly halted. The ripples on the lake, the drifting threads of mist, Beccas’ swinging sword—everything was frozen in that instant.
Only Charlotte’s consciousness remained utterly clear in this suspended time.
Yet, to his astonishment, Vivian Arlene was also aware in the mist—her body unable to move, her mind perfectly lucid, but her throat as if gripped by invisible hands, unable to utter a sound.
Charlotte spoke with relish.
“Saintess Highness, it seems this artifact can’t affect your memory. Then let tonight’s terror be carved deep into your heart.
Oh, and by the way, aside from you and me, no one can know this memory. Not even the Gods.
One last warning—never let me find you alone again. If I get the chance, I will absolutely take your life.”
Charlotte turned and left, vanishing from Vivian Arlene’s sight as if he’d never existed.
She tried to track Charlotte with her eyes, but the moment she prepared to summon her Magic Power, that same terror descended on her mind once more.
She shivered and dared not try to lock onto Charlotte’s location again.
In the mist, only Beccas—frozen in place—and the immobilized Vivian Arlene remained.
After a moment, the frozen space and time suddenly released, the thick mist dispersing a little.
Beccas was dazed for an instant, wariness and battle-readiness in her eyes gradually fading, replaced by total confusion.
She looked down at her hand, still raised in a chopping stance, uncertain of what had just happened.
Realizing the situation, she quickly helped Vivian Arlene up, her tone tinged with lingering fear and reproach.
“Holy Maiden, don’t run off like this next time. Look at the mess you’ve gotten into in these mountains.”
Vivian Arlene’s pupils trembled involuntarily, her heart still seized with fear.
She blurted out, “Beccas, what are you talking about… Just now, the Faithful of the Evil God, he…”
She tried to explain what had just happened, but as the words reached her lips, her mind suddenly throbbed with sharp pain.
The memories of a moment ago were shrouded in heavy mist, blurry and elusive, no matter how she tried, she couldn’t grasp them.
All that remained was a fear that seeped into her bones, and a hazy whisper: “Modifying memory…”
“What Faithful of the Evil God?” Beccas looked at her in utter bewilderment. “Highness, are you too tired and seeing things? There’s no one here but us.”
Vivian Arlene tried to protest, but the dull ache in her head grew stronger.
The fragments of memory seemed on the verge of being devoured completely, making her dizzy and faint.
Supported half-upright by Beccas, she was led away from the lakeshore, the ice beneath her feet melting quietly into the mist, leaving only wet, frozen earth behind, as if the battle and confrontation of this night had never happened.
Behind them, the mist gathered like a living creature, erasing all traces of ice, sword marks, and anything that did not belong to “the everyday.”
The flickering candles at the Inn stretched Vivian Arlene’s shadow crooked and long.
She sat at the edge of her bed, her fingertips rubbing the Silver Pendant at her chest over and over—that object which had once been the Moonblade, now icy cold, as if it still retained the chill of the frozen lakeshore.
Vivian Arlene felt no urge to sleep, her temples throbbing with anxiety. She clung tightly to her sword pendant…
She remembered it clearly: that golden sword light splitting the mist, Beccas’ roar as she stood before her, and Charlotte’s threat.
But whenever she tried to tell Beccas, those memories scattered like wisps of mist, impossible to recall, leaving only a bone-deep terror and a vague whisper: “Modifying memory…”
So that was how the Faithful of the Evil God had managed to hide and survive, always escaping extinction—by using such despicable means as altering the memories of others!
She gave a cold laugh, clenching the pendant so tightly her knuckles turned white, disgust flashing in her eyes.
That man, and yet he dared to turn it around and accuse the Divine Church of changing people’s memories? Truly reversing black and white, shameless beyond compare.
As expected, Faithful of the Evil God were all a pack of scoundrels…
Just as she snuffed out the candle and forced herself to sleep, a chill suddenly crept up her spine, as if someone were watching her from the darkness.
“One last warning—never let me find you alone again. If I get the chance, I will absolutely take your life.”
That icy voice was like a curse engraved in her heart, snapping her eyes wide open the moment she closed them, all the hairs on her body standing on end.
It seemed that tonight was doomed to be a sleepless night.
Elsewhere, after Charlotte turned from the lake, his forced composure instantly shattered.
His right hand had lost all feeling, dangling uselessly at his side. Each step pulled at his internal injuries, sweat breaking out on his forehead from the pain.
He slowly slid down against a huge boulder, undoing the Veil of Mist Concealment, revealing a face as pale as paper.
“Cough, cough, cough…”
A harsh fit of coughing wracked his chest. Charlotte spat out a mouthful of hot blood, splattering the frozen ground in a striking red.
His body slackened and he collapsed backward.
Aifel hurriedly flew out from the ring, catching Charlotte so his head wouldn’t hit the hard rock, her voice full of worry.
“Charlotte, don’t die!”
Though his body was exhausted, Charlotte’s mental strength was still brimming.
He was acutely aware of the abnormal state of his body, but speaking was a bit difficult, so he closed his eyes and chose to communicate with Aifel using only his mind.
“How could I die? That swordswoman just now broke my hand, I’m nearly out of Magic Power, and my lungs seem to be filling with blood. Even breathing hurts.”
The composure he’d shown earlier was just so Vivian Arlene wouldn’t realize how close he was to collapse—otherwise, who knew who would have survived tonight.
After that bitter battle, his physical condition was at its worst, but a certain excitement filled him. He knew that even if his opponent wielded the Moonblade, no one in their prime could defeat him at his peak.
Charlotte needed more life-and-death battles to improve himself.
Aifel reached out, gently stroking Charlotte’s head, her touch as gentle as a sister comforting her wounded little brother.
“You’ve done enough… Next time, don’t risk yourself like that. When you need to run, run. Charlotte…”
She reached out, ready to touch the Dream of the Dark Moon ring on Charlotte’s finger.
Charlotte shook his head painfully, indicating with his eyes for her not to touch it.
“Charlotte!” Aifel chided him. “Don’t push yourself. Don’t worry, there’s enough Divine Power left. Besides, you’re the most important person to the Mistmoon Family. For you, any investment is worth it. And if you go back like this, do you think Floleen could get any sleep?”
Aifel’s hand brushed the Dream of the Dark Moon ring.
A ball of light emerged from the ring, transforming into a staff in her hand.
Aifel took up the silver-white staff and tapped Charlotte lightly. A warm radiance enveloped him, a green magic circle slowly healing his wounds.
“Aifel… Your magic is as beautiful as ever…” Charlotte finally felt better, able to speak.
“Because this magic is only for you.”
Aifel smiled, and after finishing the spell, she stretched and yawned, turning back into mist and slipping into the ring.
“I used up so much Magic Power for you again, I’m going back to sleep now.”
“Mm…” Charlotte responded softly, leaning against the boulder, closing his eyes.
He felt his strength slowly returning within, and on his face appeared an exhausted yet relieved smile.