Chapter 142: Beneath the Twilight
A girl, standing one meter sixty, skipped lightly down a long corridor in an almost clockwork rhythm.
Her braided white hair, pure as snow, contrasted with the black horns subtly tinged with crimson that twisted from either side of her head. From her forehead, two more horns extended upward, and between them, a black mark resembling a cleft half-moon stretched from the start of her hairline down near her brows. Her porcelain-like skin was adorned by a long black dress with ashen embellishments, making her appear even darker than the surroundings enclosing her.
She smiled. It was not the innocent smile of a child, nor the false kind crafted solely to please onlookers. It was an intimate, macabre delight.
Through the corridor’s stained-glass windows, filtering the glow of a red sun against a black sky, twilight poured in. Outside, towering pillars and spires of black stone stretched high. From her vantage, the vast castle gave her a perfect view of the sprawling city below.
On the horizon, a colossal wall of mist divided itself neatly in a great circumference, encircling the city so no building was obscured, yet barring any glimpse of what lay beyond.
“You will wait for Ur here.”
At the girl’s side, a much taller woman bowed gracefully at her words.
“Certainly, Mistress.”
Her tight-fitting black dress did all it could to accentuate her seductive curves while still maintaining a semblance of modesty. Covering her eyes, enormous flowers with petals burning in shades of vivid crimson concealed her vision, harmonizing with the scarlet lipstick staining her lips. Upon her head, opening neatly to allow her modest horns through, a wide-brimmed hat graced her white hair.
Positioning herself perfectly against the wall of the corridor, the tall woman stepped aside, giving way to the smaller girl, who skipped forward until she stopped before a pair of double doors at least five times her height. With only a single careless finger pressing against the heavy metal, she easily pushed them open.
A deep groan of iron hinges echoed as the doors gave way. Before her stretched a vast chamber, dimly lit by bluish lights, its walls built of black brick. With no windows, the atmosphere was heavy. At its center, a round table rose from the floor, surrounded precisely by ten chairs.
With a soft motion, the girl in the black dress pressed her index finger against her puffed cheek, her large, brilliant red eyes fixed on the empty hall.
“Wow! Ur was the first to arrive!?”
She shouted in an excited tone, only for another voice to immediately cut her off.
“I’m here, Urtiga, you idiot.”
The voice was thin, yet sharp as a blade. Shifting her eyes, it took the girl no more than a second to locate the source.
No more than thirty centimeters tall.
Upon the table sat something that could be mistaken for an ornamental doll. Its ivory hue, as pale as its hair, contrasted with the two red spheres marking its eyes. Its clothing was simple: only strips of white cloth wrapped around its vital parts like chains, entwining about the neck like a thorny scarf. Across its back, a great spiral-shaped mark of thorns glowed in carmine light.
There was no need to think hard — Urtiga recognized her immediately.
“Orlaith, you’re alive!”
The girl in the black dress gave a small hop in place.
“They told Ur you blew yourself up! Ur thought Ur would never see you again!” Not bothering with any formality, the girl rushed to the doll’s side. “How cool! You’re so cute! No one told Ur you’d gotten so tiny!”
Sitting down, Urtiga put her hands on the table and inspected the doll from every angle.
“I’m still regenerating my body, idiot. I can’t miss another summons, and since I don’t have suitable pawns, I’m using this doll as an avatar.” The irritated voice sounded exasperated as the small body tried to turn away from the girl. The attempt was in vain.
Placing the doll on her lap, Urtiga began to play with both tiny arms, using her fingers like pincers to pull them in opposite directions.
“Stop it, you imbecile! There isn’t any other soul sharing this body’s burden with me! If you break it, you’ll actually kill me!”
The small doll thrashed desperately, beginning to scream in pain as faint cracks formed across its little body.
“Listen, listen, Orlaith! Ur wants a new pet! The one you gave already died.”
Releasing the doll’s arms, Urtiga grabbed it by the waist and pressed its cheek hard against her skin.
“As if I care about what you want, Urtiga, you wretch.” Orlaith let out a heavy sigh, still reeling from the panic of almost having both her arms torn off.
Her tone and choice of words were clearly disrespectful, but the girl didn’t seem to mind. Now, with small hands pushing the doll from side to side, she blinked her bright red eyes a few times before brightening up.
“Do you have more humans? No! Never mind! Ur wants to play with an elf this time!”
Ignoring Orlaith’s protests, Urtiga continued listing her wishes while swaying her body in the chair to match the rhythm of the doll.
“What? Are you stupid? Why would I give you one of the hardest specimens to obtain?”
“Come on, if you give just one, this time Ur will help you catch another leviathan! What do you say?”
Orlaith couldn’t believe what she was hearing.
“Honestly, it was my brain that got destroyed, so why does it feel like your neurons were the ones affected?”
“Please, this is a request from the Fourth Twilight~” Pressing her palms together, Urtiga looked at Orlaith with pleading, shining eyes.
“This is a personal request. The chain of command between us doesn’t obligate me to help you get toys. By the rules I only have to obey if it’s truly important for Finis. I won’t gain anything by doing this.”
“That’s why Ur is telling you that she’ll help you catch more monsters in exchange!”
“I can get my own pets.”
“And what if Ur gives you one of her servants?”
Swinging her arms cutely, the girl in the black dress tried her hardest to convince Orlaith.
“I don’t need subordinates. I’d rather not share my laboratory with anyone whose scientific vision doesn’t match mine—much less with the kind of insane lunatic who manages to follow you around.” Seeing the girl puff out her cheeks at her words, Orlaith let out another sigh. “Besides, with the way you are, I’m sure not even an elf would last a day in your hands. Let me recall… Yes, I remember I gave you a cat demi-human last time. How did he die?”
“Ur heard cats have nine lives, so Ur tried killing him eight different ways.” Pressing her index finger to her lips, Urtiga tilted her head, her expression showing genuine doubt. “But then he died on the first one.”
“See? To hell with your request.”
“Mean! Mean! Mean!”
Grabbing the doll in one hand, Urtiga shook it as if mixing a drink.
“Can’t the two of you behave civilly for even a single moment?”
A deep voice resounded.
“Caelgor!”
Turning in her chair, Urtiga beamed at the tall man who had just entered through the door.
Immaculate black armor covered him from neck to feet, the metal soles of his boots striking sharply against the floor as he walked. Framing his horns, long white hair was tied into a ponytail so long it nearly brushed the ground.
“Listen, Caelgor! Orlaith is being mean! She doesn’t want to give Ur a new pet!”
Practically collapsing across the table with a long sigh, the girl in the black dress slammed her clenched fists down as if to show her frustration.
Yet, ignoring her frustration completely, Caelgor simply walked over to a specific chair.
“Drelkos is dead.”
The cold words seemed to make the very atmosphere of the room grow heavier.
“Seriously?”
Having slipped free of Urtiga’s grip, Orlaith, who had been hurrying toward another chair, turned abruptly, fixing her gaze on the demon who stood with both hands clasped behind his back.
“Was it Professor Nerine?” Urtiga spun around energetically, as though the news was too shocking for her to truly grasp. “She still refuses to join the Twilight and come live with us again. Ur misses her, so she should’ve gone too.”
Shaking his head slowly at the two girls, Caelgor replied.
“No. The World Tree still stands, and the forest wasn’t destroyed. Without undoing her transformation and reconstructing her body, Nerine couldn’t even draw out half of her original power. That wouldn’t have been enough to defeat Drelkos.”
His words only left the two girls even more incredulous. Before being bombarded with more questions, Caelgor continued speaking.
“Drelkos’s subordinate, the one who had been infiltrating the elven forest, was killed as well. But I had sent one of my men to shadow him up to the forest’s edge, waiting for the barrier to be disabled. My man was able to confirm the facts for me. The one who killed him… was the Veilbreaker.”
They were just words, but both girls nearly jumped where they stood.
“The Veilbreaker!? Ur’s heard of her! All of Ur’s subordinates have done nothing but talk about that all week!”
Her black dress swaying as she moved, Urtiga pressed both palms to her cheeks and closed her eyes, rocking her body back and forth in the chair.
“Gardenia…”
Her current body had no teeth to gnash, but like a cracked gear grinding against itself, Orlaith’s rage was so intense the doll began to tremble.
Her target. The one she had failed to eliminate, the one responsible for making her lose everything.
“So, what should we do now? We couldn’t recover the Lord’s sword and we’ve lost another one of us. Should Ur go there and avenge Drelkos?”
Urtiga asked in a lively tone, but the thirst for blood immediately spread throughout the room.
“Don’t you dare, wretch—that girl is mine! Give me just two, no, three more years! I’ll rebuild the Chaos Seed and blast that forest barrier to pieces!”
And then…
“I thought I’d made my order quite clear.”
Everyone in that room felt the very core of their existence tighten.
An unnatural buzzing filled their ears. Every finger, nerve, and vein of their being trembled as a chill crawled down their spines and scratched at something deep inside.
They could no longer move. Only their eyes, allowed permission to shift, turned toward the presence that slowly passed through the door.
The figure rose like an imposing shadow within the gloom of the chamber. Long, flowing white hair drifted in the air. Two black horns curved upward, radiating a bluish-white aura.
Her slender body only made the two single-edged blades in her hands more striking. Each sword shimmered like a river of stars, exuding a ghostly light.
The garment covering her was a work of art. Black fabric clung tightly to her modest chest, accentuating every curve, while plates of silvered iron traced serpent-like patterns across her slim frame. Intricate ornaments ran with glowing blue filaments that seemed to pulse with her breath. A white mantle marked with arabesques draped across her arms and back, flowing behind her like a torn cape.
Her face was a frozen landscape, carved with precise, unyielding lines. Her dark skin made her deep crimson eyes stand out. A cruel gleam shone within them, as if coldly evaluating and judging everyone in the room.
And then, for the first time since her presence had filled the chamber, their senses finally processed more.
A wet sound echoed.
Like a single drop falling—then multiplying, until the entire floor was red.
Flowing over her dusky skin, her clothes, and her weapons, as if tracing every detail of her form, a dense layer of blood—not her own—spilled onto the ground from the woman’s body.
“Zaeroth…”
Whispering as quietly as she could, as though trying to shrink her presence even further, the doll recoiled.
“All went well in the ocean?”
Rising and bending his back in a respectful bow, the Second Twilight greeted the woman as she walked to the farthest seat.
“It was nothing more than a reckless offspring seeking to prove its strength. I merely responded to its desire for confrontation in a manner befitting.”
With a simple twist of her wrists, the dusky-skinned woman wiped both blades and slid them back into their sheaths. She pulled the chair beside her over and, indifferent to the blood dripping from her body, sat down, resting her chin on her fingers.
“Orlaith.”
The oddly cheerful voice didn’t match her impassive face.
“Yes!”
Startled, the doll turned toward the woman, every part of the tiny body trembling.
“A dragon humbly came of its own will to attack our territory. Because of that, we were able to replenish the stock of blood you exhausted.”
The dusky-skinned woman with white hair tilted her head and spoke in an upbeat tone, as if announcing good news, even though not a single muscle of her bloodstained face suggested she was pleased.
“That’s very good, isn’t it? I didn’t have to order you to fetch more yourself since I handled the situation alone. You should be happy—you get to live a little longer.”
With words that carried a lethal calm, she fixed her red eyes on the trembling doll.
Orlaith felt her tiny body crushed even more under the woman’s pressure. The lack of joints barely allowed her to kneel, and she fell forward, her head striking the table.
“I’m honored to receive such help from the First Twilight personally!”
Speaking with as much reverence as she could muster, Orlaith felt cold sweat—despite the doll having no pores.
“The act itself was merely like cleaning off the filthy trash that tried to tread on our lands; there’s nothing to be so grateful for. I’m counting on you to perform the blood drainage.”
She would. Orlaith reached that conclusion truly. It didn’t matter that she no longer had a proper body or a suitable subordinate. If she failed that task, she would be killed.
Her trembling body didn’t dare rise. Crawling across the table, she went to her chair. Since hopping was difficult, she simply sat on the table’s edge and kept her head bowed.
“In a way, Drelkos’s death was my personal mistake. I should have assigned him the details before sending him out just to be safe.” Her thin lips barely curved as she spoke.
Using the tip of her nail to casually wipe a drop of dragon blood from her cheek, Zaeroth turned to the three others present in the room.
“Drelkos did not fail in his mission. After all, the purpose of this incursion was indeed to recover Ragnarok—but not for us. We needed to make sure it ended up in the right hands, and one way or another, he managed that.”
“Wait — what do you mean by ‘get it into the right hands’? No one can put mana into Ragnarok to draw out all its power. The limiter was made so it can only be deactivated by someone related to our Lord. There’s no one like that.”
The doll rocked back and forth, not daring to raise her voice, as if trying to process what was being said.
“If the barrier is still standing, then Ragnarok returned to Professor Nerine’s possession. Ur can’t understand — what exactly did we confirm with all this?”
Putting a hand to her chin, Urtiga asked as well, swaying gently in her seat.
“As someone closest to our Lord like a mother, it’s impossible Nerine wouldn’t have noticed the limiter being broken. She would make a point of recovering the sword. However, whether Ragnarok is sealed again or not doesn’t matter for now — we’ve finished verifying what we needed.”
“The limiter was broken? Fuck… what are you trying to say?” Unaware she’d stopped moderating her language, Orlaith blurted out, unable to contain her confusion.
“You pride yourself on your intelligence, yet you still don’t understand?” Caelgor, who had been listening in silence until now, fixed his gaze on the doll, his fingers drumming on the table. “You told me yourself that day, Orlaith. That girl—even though she’s not a demon and lacks the horns and white hair—bears the crimson eyes of our race… our innate ability.”
The tiny body of the doll froze.
“This is part of what only Caelgor and I know, but the time has come to share at least a little of it with you.”
The expressionless beauty’s smile widened further.
“I never repeat an order. However, so I don’t have to kill you for this, I’ll make it as clear as possible for you to understand.”
It was simple. So simple it could be said in a few words.
“We cannot kill Gardenia.”
But everyone present knew the moment they heard it that those words could change everything.
“Because that girl is our Lord’s daughter.”