Chen Yu was being rocked back and forth in Nilly’s arms, his round body wobbling like a jelly ball. The small crown had slipped to one side, and his deep-red little cape was rumpled and curled.

“All right, all right.” He sighed helplessly and blew a bubble. “If you rock me any more I’ll throw up.”

Only then did Nilly reluctantly let go, though her eyes still sparkled as she stared at Chen Yu like he was a talking gold mine.

“A medal made of gold and mithril!” she repeated, afraid he might change his mind.

She turned to Sekashi. “You heard that, right?”

Sekashi nodded. “Heard it.”

Then she looked at Yano. “Little Arno, you heard that too, right?”

Yano shrugged. “Heard it loud and clear.”

“Good.” Nilly clapped her hands in satisfaction, then, as if remembering something, leaned over Chen Yu and lowered her voice to ask, “Um... Your Majesty, how big is the medal?”

Chen Yu: “About this big.”

He gestured with his gel hand; it looked to be roughly half his body’s size.

Nilly’s eyes lit up even more.

“Can you set a gemstone in it?”

Chen Yu: “What gemstone do you want?”

Nilly thought seriously. “Red! Blood-red, the bigger the better.”

Chen Yu was silent for two seconds, then said slowly, “We can set one ruby. But it won’t be huge.”

“One is enough!” Nilly was so happy she almost kissed him again, but Chen Yu backed away in time to dodge the second wave of affection.

Sekashi watched from the side and couldn’t help covering her mouth to laugh.

The mood was light and joyful, as if the earlier battle had been nothing more than a small skirmish.

But the lightness didn’t last long.

Chen Yu suddenly froze.

A message came through the Gel Network, from Galvin.

Darkness City was in trouble.

Followers of the Xirik Church had appeared in Darkness City, shrouding the whole city in shadow. The exact situation inside couldn’t be confirmed yet, but Casimir and Lya had already rushed over.

The Xirik Church again.

Those fanatics who worship the “black sun” never seemed to rest. They were probably desperate because their identities had been exposed.

What Chen Yu hadn’t expected was that they would dare to directly attack a city of the Slime Kingdom.

The others clearly saw the message too.

Nilly wiped the playful expression off her face and frowned. “What do those maniacs want?”

Chen Yu didn’t know either.

But Casimir and Lya had already gone there.

And from the fragmented messages Casimir sent back... things weren’t as straightforward.

Odd, even.

All because those cultists had run into Lya.

......

Darkness City.

The glow of the mushroom houses lining the streets was fading bit by bit, as if being suppressed by some invisible force.

Darkness crept forward.

Not ordinary darkness—

but shadows, living shadows, moving from the city’s edges toward its center as if they had life.

They flowed along streets, crawled over walls, devoured every spot not lit by magic. Wherever they passed, the mushroom houses’ bioluminescence quickly dimmed and were swallowed by a lifeless blackness.

On the streets, Slime citizens hopped about in panic, making startled “glub-glub” noises.

A few adventurers who had just left the tavern stood frozen at the doorway, staring at the approaching blackness, disbelief written across their faces.

“What the hell is that?” a bearded mercenary muttered.

“Don’t bother finding out, run!” his companion grabbed him and the two turned and ran.

But not far did they get before screams rose behind them.

The mercenary looked back to see a merchant lagging behind being overtaken by the shadows.

The darkness crawled up his legs like a living thing, coiling around his waist and dragging his entire body into the thick blackness. His screams were abruptly cut off as if someone had clamped a hand over his throat.

“Damn it!” the mercenary swore and ran faster.

Similar scenes played out across the city.

Shadows spread, devoured, and hunted down any living creatures that couldn’t escape.

Along the borders between light and dark, hooded figures rose out of the shadows, clutching poisoned daggers, silently launching backstabs at isolated Slime citizens and adventurers.

But under the protection of Slime guards, their attacks often failed, so they turned their attention to the round Slime guards themselves.

A Slime guard was trying to organize a group of citizens to retreat toward the city center. It hopped, brandished a small short sword, and urged people onward with “glub-glub” sounds.

Suddenly, a dark shape darted out from shadow behind it.

A hooded cultist raised a dagger and stabbed hard at the Slime guard’s back.

The guard sensed danger and turned, lifting its gel hand, but it was too late.

The dagger closed in.

Is this death? flashed through the guard’s mind.

Then a burst of golden-white light exploded in front of it.

The light was as fierce as noon sunlight, instantly dispersing nearby shadows.

The hooded cultist screamed, struck by the light and sent flying, slamming into the wall behind and sliding down, never to get up.

The Slime guard stood there stunned, its gel body trembling slightly.

“Keep moving.”

It turned and saw Casimir approaching calmly.

The vampire bishop wore a pure white priest’s robe, his pale face bearing a composed smile. His left hand was folded in his sleeve, while his right had just finished a casting gesture.

A faint halo of Holy Light wrapped around him, a lone candle burning amid the surrounding darkness.

“Bring them to the church,” Casimir said gently. “It’s safe there.”

The Slime guard snapped out of it, nodded repeatedly, and continued hopping, urging the citizens forward.

People ran through narrowing streets and past mushroom houses going dark, until they reached the cliff below the city center.

Looking up, three giant Holy Light Mushrooms stood atop the cliff, layered caps radiating soft, warm light.

At the top of the central, highest cap was set a massive crystal. Even in this place ravaged by shadow, that crystal’s glow burned steadfastly, pushing back darkness.

The Slime Sanctuary.

The Great Slime Religion’s place of worship.

People fleeing finally reached the cemetery below the sanctuary.

Several Slime worshipers in priest’s robes stood at the cemetery gate, guiding the arriving citizens inside.

“Hurry! Get inside!”

“Don’t push; one at a time!”

Slime citizens hopped into the cemetery; human adventurers and merchants tumbled in as well. Soon, the cemetery’s open space filled with refugees.

They turned to look at the city outside the cemetery.

The streets had been swallowed by shadow, mushroom house lights extinguished, only the sanctuary’s crystal stubbornly still burned.

Around the cemetery, pale-gold magic formations slowly rose, casting a warm light like an invisible wall keeping the shadows at bay.

People breathed a sigh of relief.

Some slumped to the ground, gasping. Some clung together and whispered in tears. Others clasped their hands and murmured prayers.

At the cemetery gate, Casimir returned and stood watching the darkness with a steady gaze.

Lya hid behind him, peeking out with only half her head to carefully survey the scene.

She said softly, “Casimir, this shadow feels very familiar to me.”

Casimir tilted his head slightly. “Familiar?”

“Yeah.” Lya nodded, frowning as she strained to recall. “Like... something that fell off a big creature. I can’t explain it clearly, but it’s familiar.”

Casimir nodded thoughtfully and did not press.

“Bishop Casimir, what’s happening out there?” a trembling voice asked from behind them.

Casimir turned to see a Slime with a petal-like head cautiously hopping forward.

“Bishop Rem.” Casimir inclined his head. “It’s dangerous out there. Try not to get too close.”

Rem was the Great Slime Religion’s third bishop.

Before Lya discovered her and ushered her into the clergy, Rem had been an ordinary Slime flower-shop owner who often brought flowers to the church and prayed for the townsfolk.

One day, when Lya passed the shop, she suddenly pointed and said, “She’s very devout.”

The flower-seller then seemed to confront her inner self, undergo an internal trial, and instantly became a holy minister who wielded Holy Light.

Even Casimir, a zealot, couldn’t understand this mystical promotion method.

But it was true: Rem had become a cleric, and her Holy Light power was astonishingly pure.

If Casimir’s power was a flame burning with faith, Rem’s power was like a natural spring, flowing effortlessly.

“Bishop Rem,” Casimir asked, “can you tell what kind of magic this is? Darkness that can swamp an entire city... it’s not simple.”

Because Rem’s faith was so pure, her insight into the nature of power was far greater than his. He believed she might have discerned something.

Rem hopped backward in fear, her gel body shaking violently. “I don’t understand.”

Casimir: “...”

Rem hid behind a tree and whispered, “But it looks like the color of cemetery flowers—only more evil, worse. Destroying the city is bad.”

“Bishop Casimir, I’m a bit scared. Can I go hide in the church first?”

Casimir looked at her and felt admiration inwardly.

“As expected of Miss Rem. Even in a crisis, you still joke to hide your fear.”

“No... it’s not that...” Rem made a frightened sound, almost crying.

She felt misunderstood by the vampire bishop.

To be honest, she did idolize the King, but not enough to face the enemy head-on.

She still hadn’t processed that a few days ago she had only intended to deliver flowers to the sanctuary and then, out of nowhere, Lya picked her and she became a cleric.

Actually she wanted to run away now, but everyone misunderstood her.

Boohoo...

In hindsight she should have stayed hidden in a corner of the church instead of coming out.

Yet, with the three bishops of the Great Slime Religion standing at the cemetery gate—the capable, the meek, the shepherd, the vampire, the Slime—together—it looked like a pale, undernourished father leading a hapless daughter and a magical pet to save the city.

But the citizens in the cemetery seeing that scene gradually calmed their fear.

Just then, the magic formation’s glow became unstable, showing signs of being consumed by darkness.

“What’s happening?!”

“The formation is breaking!”

Amid shouts, the formation finally failed, swallowed by shadow. The outside gloom surged in like a breached dam.

Shadows crawled over the cemetery steps, scaling rune-carved stone walls and devouring the ground inch by inch.

Where they passed, even the cemetery’s long-burning sacred candles were extinguished as if they had never existed.

People backed away in terror as the blackness neared, and then figures emerged from the gloom.

They were hooded Xirik cultists.

Their faces were hidden in the hoods’ shadows, only pale chins and cracked lips showing.

The cultist at the front lifted his head, revealing a gaunt face.

His eyes were terrifyingly hollow, like eyeballs had been gouged out, staring straight into the cemetery’s depths, toward the huddled crowd.

He spread his hands. “The appointed day is coming. You will become the new people under the New Sun. Lay down futile resistance and accept the New Sun’s blessing.”

Those behind him spoke in unison, forming an eerie chorus: “When the New Sun’s envoy covers all, true salvation will come.”

As they spoke, the surrounding shadow thickened.

The darkness writhed and congealed until it formed a massive shadow behind them.

The mass had no fixed shape—sometimes resembling a giant beast, sometimes an octopus, sometimes a mass of countless tentacles.

It twisted soundlessly, radiating a suffocating weight.

On the surface of that shadow, vague figures hung. The two adventurers who had earlier guided the way, Shane and Hank, could be seen, along with other citizens and adventurers.

They seemed absorbed into the colossal shadow creature, reduced to soulless shells.

The cemetery folk shrank back, some holding their heads, others closing their eyes, unable to watch.

Casimir’s brows tightened.

He sensed a pure faith embedded in that shadow—like the opposite of the sanctuary crystal on the Great Slime Religion’s roof: instead of emitting light, it swallowed all light.

Is that a church relic? the thought flashed through Casimir’s mind.

He didn’t know how the Xirik Church achieved this, but that shadow creature had clearly become something akin to a church relic.

It carried the cultists’ faith, concentrated their prayers; it was their pillar for living in darkness.

“Heh...” the leading cultist chuckled lowly. “Do you feel it? This is true salvation.”

“Kneel and pray, welcome the New Sun’s arrival. This is all you must do.”

Casimir said nothing, standing quietly.

Holy Light burned in his hand—weak but resolute against the encroaching shadow.

“I remember now...”

Lya suddenly poked her head out from behind Casimir, eyes wide with an expression of sudden realization.

“I remembered. The Xirik Church, right? Long, long ago, it was a small, niche sect. I think I’ve heard about it somewhere...”

She frowned, trying to recall. “Strange... how has it become so powerful now?”

Her voice was small, but in the silent cemetery it rang clear.

The hooded cultists turned to look at her.

The lead cultist said, “Those lacking reverence for the sun...”

“God forgives your ignorance.”

He paused, then pointed at Lya.

“Become the New People. The New Sun’s light will grant you true immortality.”

As he spoke, the shadow behind them swelled suddenly, like a gigantic hand crushing toward the cemetery’s depths.

Lya shrank and grabbed Casimir’s sleeve. “Casimir, they seem angry.”

Casimir glanced down at her and a faint smile crossed his pale face.

“Bishop Lya, I’ll rely on you next.”

Lya blinked. “Rely on me?”

“Yes.” Casimir nodded. “Regrettably, Rem’s and my faith aren’t devout enough to face such a dreadful enemy.”

“But you’re different.”

Lya blinked again.

She thought carefully.

Wait... that did seem true.

She suddenly remembered that she might actually be quite powerful.

Although she couldn’t clearly recall the extent, she knew she was very strong.

Those divine spells came to her casually; Holy Light spells she could cast with her eyes closed.

Yes! She was powerful!

Confidence surged through Lya.

She stepped out from behind Casimir and took a step forward.

“Um...” she cleared her throat, trying to sound imposing. “I warn you, I—the head cleric—am very powerful. You’d best leave now or I will... I will...”

She tried to come up with a grand line, like His Majesty could casually say to scare off foes.

But after thinking hard, no impressive words came.

Worse, as she tried to step forward to make herself look more commanding, her foot caught on a raised paving stone.

“Ah!”

She cried out and tumbled forward, falling hard to the ground.

“Ow...” she rubbed her aching chin, cheeks flushing crimson, wishing she could disappear.

So embarrassing... utterly humiliating.

The cemetery’s residents watched dumbfounded, unsure how to react.

The hooded cultists were stunned too.

They exchanged looks, not sure what to make of it.

Was this a ruse to lower their guard?

The lead cultist considered it likely.

He said in a deep voice, “Do not be deceived. Close your eyes and pray; the New Sun will shelter us.”

Several cultists shut their eyes and began murmuring prayers. As they chanted, the shadow behind them thickened like a tide, surging in to engulf the cemetery fence and spreading toward Lya’s spot.

Lya, dazed and rubbing her chin, suddenly felt cold under her feet.

She looked down to see the shadow had reached her toes.

“Ah!”

She flinched and instinctively raised her hand.

[Holy Light]

Holy Light shot from her palm. The glow wasn’t blinding; it was as warm as winter sunlight.

Ripples of radiance spread outward, and where they passed, the dense shadow melted away like snow meeting flame.

In an instant, the encroaching shadows were completely dispersed.

Lya stood stunned, staring at her hand.

Was she really that powerful?

The cemetery folk gasped.

“It’s Holy Light!”

“Bishop Lya is amazing!”

Even the hooded cultists opened their eyes.

“Impossible. How could the New Sun’s shadow be driven back by light of this degree?”

Li Ye climbed up and brushed dust from her skirt, feeling a small surge of pride.

Heh... she was indeed impressive.

She was about to look again when a chill ran over her.

The massive shadow seemed angered, swelling explosively. A flood of darkness surged forth like a giant beast opening its maw and instantly engulfed Lya.

“Bishop Lya!” Rem cried.

Casimir raised his hand and unleashed Holy Light.

The beam detonated, dispelling part of the shadow.

When the light faded, Lya’s figure reappeared—but she had already fallen to the ground.

She lay perfectly still on the cold stone floor, her priest’s robe dusted where she’d scraped during the fall. Long lashes covered her eyes, as if she were merely asleep.

But everyone knew.

This was not sleep.

She was dead.