Chapter 435: Tangled Struggle, Making Some Preparations

"What is it? Are you worried about failing the mission? I suppose that is natural. Although I do not yet fully grasp the current situation, I have also realized that this era is not quite what we had originally planned."

The person in the room watched Damian’s sudden, vacant expression. Instead of showing anger or suspicion, they simply clapped their hands, gesturing for him to sit beside them on the bed in Damian’s current quarters.

"It is a bit unsettling. The Goddess of Night in this era is vastly different from the one we once knew. She is perhaps too indolent, or rather, too kind. Furthermore, the scale of her following has grown far beyond that of the past era."

Damian sat down obediently beside this familiar figure. The person was dressed simply in plain cloth, the only striking feature being the hooded cloak draped over their shoulders.

As they pulled back the hood, a face devoid of any distinct characteristics was revealed—white hair, and an appearance that seemed remarkably young.

"Tell me the details. Perhaps I can offer you some advice."

The person offered a gentle smile and patted Damian’s shoulder, signaling him to speak about the Lady of Night and the Church of the Nightfall. Damian’s two companions also found places to sit, watching silently as he conversed with their visitor.

Damian gathered his thoughts, recounting the current development of the Church of the Nightfall, as well as the "Prayer Communication Network" and the "Midnight Library" that the Lady of Night had brought into existence with her power.

"Oh? Using divine power to accomplish such things? It is truly difficult to comprehend. But that shouldn't be possible—how could any deity maintain such a stable system? Though, I suppose with their power, they could indeed achieve what we once failed to do."

The white-haired youth raised an eyebrow, clearly astonished by everything Damian had described regarding the Lady of Night and her church.

It was evident that what surprised them was not the sheer size of the organization, but the fact that the deity they worshipped would deign to perform tasks that had eluded them for so long.

"A deity granting such power to followers—wide-area communication, the transmission of knowledge, even a resistance to mental corruption far superior to that of other gods—it would be abnormal if this church had not developed to this extent in such a short time."

Shaking their head, the youth found the prosperity of the Church of the Nightfall to be a matter of course. At that moment, Damian seemed to recall something; he reached into the cabinet beside his bed, retrieved a copy of the Night Scripture, and handed it to the visitor.

"By the way, you should look at this."

"Oh? The scripture of this church? If you felt the need to bring this out, it must contain something worth noting."

The visitor took the scripture from Damian’s hand and began to flip through it casually. They read with great speed, scanning each page briefly before turning to the next.

The book seemed to pique their interest. Soon, the sound of turning pages became a continuous rustle, ending with a sharp "snap" as the book was closed and returned to Damian.

"This is quite unexpected. 'Take care of your own life before speaking of faith'? Such an attitude toward a deity is truly blasphemous compared to other religions. Yet, this philosophy coincides with what we have always known, and even overlaps with the things we have pursued."

The white-haired youth tapped their chin, a look of contemplation on their face as they murmured to themselves.

"Exactly. The Church of the Nightfall and the Goddess of Night in this era are unique—so unique that they are entirely different from the Goddess of the past. Perhaps you could try believing in her. The power she grants her followers is... marvelous."

Damian, sensing the visitor's interest, recalled his own experiences using the Prayer Communication Network and the Midnight Library, and shared his perspective.

"Haha, you are right. In truth, I would love to experience the wonders of these things we failed to achieve. But alas, I know more than you do. Sometimes, when you learn certain truths, you lose the eligibility to believe. It is a great pity; I cannot worship a deity."

The white-haired youth wore a look of helplessness, smiling bitterly as they tapped their own forehead, indicating that while they wished to try as Damian suggested, they were incapable of doing so.

"I see. Then, must the original plan be changed?"

Damian did not fully understand what the visitor meant, but he knew that the secrets the youth possessed were far more established as facts than his own. Being unable to worship a deity was a side effect of knowing such truths—strange, perhaps, but not impossible to accept.

"Yes, it must be changed..."

The white-haired youth accepted Damian’s inquiry and nodded affirmatively, confirming that the original plan required adjustments.

"I obey your will."

Damian bowed, expressing his submission, though a faint glimmer of joy appeared in his heart now that he knew the plan would change.

"There is no need for that. The plan I speak of concerns what I must do next. As for you, simply proceed as you were meant to. This Night Scripture is quite interesting; without it, the Church of the Nightfall could never have expanded so rapidly."

"And the words of this Archbishop are truly fascinating. The uniqueness of this church stems largely from them. It is very likely that this peculiar Goddess of Night changed precisely because of this. I must find time to meet this Archbishop."

"As for you, Damian, do not worry. This scripture makes the Goddess of Night and her church more unique, but this form of faith also makes her extremely 'loose'—more fragile than any other deity."

The youth’s subsequent words dispelled Damian’s previous assumptions; his mission remained unchanged, but the visitor had developed an interest in the Archbishop of the Nightfall.

"Take this dagger and strike when the moment is right. Because I cannot worship, I cannot complete this task myself. I must rely on you, a member of the Cult of the Lightless. The essence within this dagger is enough to turn the Goddess of Night of this era back into the entity she once was."

The white-haired youth picked up the dagger Damian had left on the table and drew a line across Damian’s right arm. The aura of the void, accompanied by a surge of magic, seeped into his skin and bone. A black tattoo, identical in shape to the dagger, manifested on his arm, and the physical blade vanished.

"This way, you won't lose it. Now, the rest is up to you. Do not let me—no, let us, and yourself—down. If we are to build that ideal kingdom, it is best that not a single link in the chain fails."

The visitor touched the tattoo on Damian’s arm with satisfaction. The dagger was now integrated into him; he could summon it to his hand whenever he wished.

"Farewell, then. I will notify you when the time comes!"

With a light tone, the white-haired youth flicked their cloak. In an instant, their figure began to collapse into the hood, shrinking into a tiny point in the air before vanishing. Throughout the process, almost no spatial fluctuations were produced.

"The kingdom we hope for...?"

Stroking the tattoo on his right arm, Damian murmured to himself. He did not understand what he was thinking, as if struggling with something he could not comprehend.

"Swish..."

"Eat first. It’s getting cold."

The sound of a lunchbox sliding across the table and a reminder from one of his companions brought Damian back to reality.

"True. Let’s eat. What are we having today?"

He opened the box to find two perfectly toasted slices of bread, sandwiching thick, succulent roasted meat, with vegetables tucked between to cut the grease and enhance the texture.

"Crunch."

He picked up the sandwich-like food and took a bite. The savory meat and the charred aroma of the bread mingled together, the richness of the melting fat perfectly balanced by the crisp vegetables. It was not an extravagant meal, but it was flawless.

"Still as delicious as ever..."

...

"Damn, this is too good. Avia must have learned her skills from you, right? Don't tell her I said this, but your dessert-baking skills are even better than hers."

In the small garden beside the Tower of the Spell-Binder, Wang Yu sat at a wooden table covered in plates. Most had been cleared, though a few remained with desserts and dishes, which Wang Yu was currently devouring at high speed.

Opposite him sat Mira Swain, Avia’s mother, watching with a gentle smile as Wang Yu polished off her cooking, praising her skills incessantly between bites.

Wang Yu’s praise was entirely sincere. Avia’s culinary talent was clearly inherited; both mother and daughter were top-tier.

By comparison, the mother’s skills were even more refined, especially her desserts. Even for someone like Wang Yu, who wasn't particularly fond of sweets, one bite was enough to understand the meaning of happiness.

"I am glad you like it. I heard there have been some changes in Alastair. Shouldn't you go take a look? If you were there, your companions would surely have an easier time."

Wang Yu’s voracious way of eating always stirred the appetite of those watching. To a cook, a guest who wasted nothing and offered such genuine, constant praise was nothing short of perfect.

Mira was naturally delighted. Wang Yu hadn't finished everything on the table; he had left several desserts behind, clearly saved for the girl.

And who would have thought that this guy, casually eating and praising the food with such satisfaction, was an existence of unfathomable power even among legends? The aura and temperament of a legendary powerhouse were, honestly, completely imperceptible to Mira.

"Haha, I can't rely on me for everything, can I? I trust them. The Church of the Nightfall, Alastair—they certainly don't stop turning just because I'm not there. As for me, I'm just a garnish at best. They can handle these things just fine. If I have time, I’d rather come here and keep you company. See? This is an unexpected bonus."

Wang Yu laughed, patting his stomach with satisfaction. It was true; with his current strength, if he stayed in Alastair or the Church of the Nightfall, some troubles would cease to be troubles at all.

But Edward and Charles were sensible; they wouldn't ask for his help unless absolutely necessary. As for the Church of the Nightfall, he was a hands-off leader anyway.

"Where is Avia? She wasn't dragged off by Lilia to help with alchemy, was she? You should eat these while they're still warm."

Shaking her head slightly, Mira looked around, not seeing the girl, and spoke casually. She was, after all, more than satisfied with Wang Yu.

She was content enough, yet sometimes she found herself curious about Wang Yu’s background; he never seemed to speak of his parents, nor had she ever met them—was there some lingering rift between them...?

"Mom, I'm here! Aunt Lilia didn't ask for my help because Wang Yu processed all the alchemical materials in the tower, so Aunt Lilia got hauled off by the Tower Master."

With a faint ripple in the air, the girl appeared suddenly behind Mira, wrapping her arms around her mother’s neck. As she spoke, she snatched a small cake from the table, savoring it with a blissful smile.

"So delicious... hmm, Wang Yu, my baking isn't as good as my mom's, is it?"

Exclaiming over the sweetness of her mother’s craft, she abruptly shifted the conversation, narrowing her eyes as she turned to Wang Yu across the table.

"Uh, how did you know that?"

Wang Yu scratched his head, looking somewhat sheepish.

"Unh-hunh!"

With a touch of smugness, the girl pointed to her right eyebrow in response.

"Alright, I surrender!"

Wang Yu raised his hands in defeat; well, there was no hiding from a perfect fractal lens.

Watching the playful banter between Wang Yu and her daughter, Mira smiled to herself. As a mother, she felt truly happy, though she recalled that besides coming to keep her company, Wang Yu and Avia had arrived at the Hex-Bound Wizard Tower to make some sort of preparations, hadn't they?