The Smiling Death

Somewhere in an unknown location.

A vast, dimly lit hall stretched endlessly into the darkness.

Massive stone pillars lined both sides of the chamber, each supporting ancient lanterns whose faint flames barely managed to push back the oppressive shadows.

The air was cold.

Everything was silent.

Heavy with an invisible pressure.

At the far end of the hall stood a throne forged from twisted black thorns, giving it the appearance of a monstrous tree that had long since withered.

Seated upon it was a lone figure.

The man was completely concealed beneath a pitch-black robe that covered him from head to toe. Not a single part of his body was visible—not even his face.

Only an overwhelming aura of authority filled the hall.

The enormous stone doors slowly opened.

A cloaked man entered before immediately walking toward the throne.

When he reached the center of the hall, he dropped to one knee.

"My Lord..."

His voice echoed through the silent chamber.

"I have just received the report that you ordered those two."

He hesitated briefly before asking,

"Is it truly necessary to send Alaric and Soren to kill her?"

The robed figure remained silent for several moments.

Then he answered calmly.

"Yes. We no longer have the luxury of waiting. My master has personally ordered me to eliminate her as soon as possible. And coincidentally, the young man Alaric was trying to find for last year is with seraphina."

His tone became colder.

"Seraphina Luminous must die. She is far too dangerous to be left alive."

He slowly leaned back against the thorned throne.

"She is destined to become the one who destroys everything we have spent centuries planning. She will go against what we wish."

The kneeling man lowered his head even further.

"But...What about her grandfather?...Alistair Luminous."

The hall fell silent again.

The robed man let out a quiet sigh.

"We’re already making preparations to deal with him. Eventually, conflict with Alistair is inevitable."

His voice carried a hint of seriousness.

"When the Seven Devils finally awaken...only they will possess enough power to kill that monster."

The messenger silently nodded.

"As you command, my Lord."

The figure tapped one finger against the armrest.

"Personally... I would have preferred to eliminate Seraphina myself."

A faint chuckle escaped beneath the hood.

"But that old monster is far too sensitive. My aura alone would alert Alistair from miles away."

He slowly turned his hidden gaze toward the messenger.

"Instead... Contact those cultist fools serving the First Devil. They’ve been suspiciously quiet ever since they attacked Lunaris Haven and stole the ancient statue from the museum."

"I don’t like their silence. It usually means they’re planning something."

The messenger immediately bowed.

"As you command. I’ll establish contact with them immediately."

"The sooner, the better. I have a bad feeling."

The kneeling man lowered his head one final time.

"Then I’ll take my leave."

Without another word, he disappeared beyond the massive doors.

The hall returned to silence.

The robed figure whose name was Darth sighed softly.

"Alaric..."

His voice echoed faintly.

"That man is consumed by revenge. He’ll gladly kill Amon if given the chance."

A faint laugh followed.

"Fortunately... Our goals align. As long as Seraphina dies as well...I have no objections."

Suddenly the space before the throne distorted.

A dark crack spread through the air itself. The surrounding mana became unstable.

From within the rift... A middle-aged man stepped out.

He appeared to be around fifty years old.

Gray hair rested neatly upon his shoulders, while a well-kept white beard framed his stern face.

He wore an ancient suit of black armor that seemed untouched by time.

His calm, indifferent eyes fell upon the robed figure.

"It’s been a while..."

"...Darth."

The moment Darth saw him, his expression changed dramatically.

"Master!"

Without hesitation, he dropped to both knees.

"I greet you, Master."

The older man merely walked past him.

He calmly ascended the steps before sitting upon the black thorned throne as though it naturally belonged to him.

"You may stand."

"Yes, Master."

Darth immediately obeyed. After rising to his feet, he couldn’t help but ask,

"Master... You came here without informing anyone. Has something happened?"

The armored man remained silent for several moments.

Then he slowly nodded.

"...Yes. The Blood Devil has returned to this world."

The color instantly drained from Darth’s face.

"W-What?! That’s impossible! Our calculations showed he still required another five or six years before his resurrection!"

The older man’s expression remained unchanged.

"They were correct."

He looked toward the distant darkness.

"But... Something changed."

Darth unconsciously took a step backward.

"The Blood Devil has returned... Then that means....the prophecy."

The armored man slowly nodded.

"The prophecy foretold that the Moon Goddess would be born only after the Blood Devil returned."

His gaze became unusually serious.

"Everything has begun moving much faster than expected. We still haven’t identified the one destined to become the Moon Goddess...yet the Blood Devil has already awakened."

He slowly clenched one hand.

"This is the worst possible outcome."

Darth’s breathing grew heavier.

"Master... Do you know where the Blood Devil is now?"

The older man shook his head.

"I don’t.But if I had to guess...he is most likely with the Seventh Devil."

He paused briefly before uttering a name that made the atmosphere itself feel colder.

"...Leng Yuan."

Darth’s pupils shrank.

"No...Even Devil Leng Yuan has begun moving? He has remained hidden for thousands of years. If he’s finally making his move..."

His voice became hoarse.

"...then the world is truly entering an era of chaos."

---

Far away.

On the Eastern Continent of Thornokk, thousands of miles from the Kingdom of Therionis.

Night had quietly descended upon the endless mountain range.

A cool breeze drifted through the vast forest, weaving between the emerald slopes of towering peaks that seemed to pierce the heavens themselves.

The mountains stood like ancient giants, untouched by time.

Perched atop one of those majestic peaks stood a secluded residence built in the traditional Chinese courtyard style.

Its dark jade-black tiled roofs curved gracefully upward, every ridge flowing like a frozen wave.

Massive wooden pillars, painted deep crimson and reinforced with polished black lacquer, supported the elegant halls that surrounded the estate.

Rather than a single mansion, the residence consisted of several connected buildings arranged around an open central courtyard.

Stone pathways linked each hall together in perfect symmetry, creating an atmosphere of harmony and tranquility.

At the very heart of the courtyard stood a magnificent ancient tree.

Its enormous trunk required several people to encircle it with their arms.

Countless branches stretched across the courtyard like the embrace of a silent guardian, while emerald leaves rustled softly beneath the gentle mountain wind.

Patches of emerald moss covered the stone paths below, blending seamlessly with carefully tended flowers and small medicinal herbs growing along the edges.

Every hall possessed its own unique elegance.

Intricately carved wooden doors. Paper windows glowing faintly beneath the moonlight.

Long covered corridors connecting one wing to another.

Everything had been built with exquisite craftsmanship.

The faint fragrance of pine, tea leaves, and fresh mountain rain lingered in the cool night air.

Far away, the songs of nocturnal birds echoed through the valleys.

It was a place where nature and architecture coexisted in perfect balance.

It was peaceful, ancient and timeless.

Beneath the ancient tree sat a lone man upon a simple wooden chair.

He appeared to be in his late twenties.

His long, jet-black hair flowed freely behind him, dancing gently in the mountain breeze.

His face was handsome beyond compare, carrying an indescribable calmness that made him seem detached from the mortal world.

He wore a loose black robe embroidered with faint silver clouds along its sleeves.

One hand rested upon the armrest.

The other casually held a porcelain cup filled with steaming tea.

His quiet black eyes gazed toward the moon hanging high above the mountains.

Not far behind him stood another man.

He was enormous.

Standing well over seven feet tall, his broad shoulders resembled those of a giant.

Long crimson hair reached past his waist, moving gently with every passing breeze.

Unlike the seated man, his body radiated overwhelming strength.

He had pale skin.

His eyes were like blood. A teardrop blood shape mark was on his forehead.

For several minutes.

Only silence existed between them.

The tall man slowly lifted his gaze toward the full moon illuminating the mountains.

"The moon is beautiful tonight."

His deep voice echoed quietly across the courtyard.

The seated man took a small sip of tea before replying.

"...It is."

The red hair man was none other than Vetaal.

While the man sitting at chair... perhaps... he was Leng Yuan.