Andrews stood calmly atop the bell tower, a faint glow shrouding him as his white robes fluttered in the wind blowing from the Laos District.

Beneath the crimson moon, a mysterious golden marking faintly emerged on his arm, as if to face the red moon directly.

’Ales Kilibali...’

He knew the Director of the Secret Investigation Department better than almost anyone in the city-state. Ales was upright, brave, and passionate, often making shocking moves—some of which were even considered blasphemous.

For instance, the ominous child who could seal the forbidden item 1-83, the Demon Clown, at birth. Or his housing of heretics within the Secret Investigation Department’s Detention Area. And so on...

’Thankfully, it’s all over, Ales.’

Andrews lowered his head, gazing at the Holy Professionals clad in armor below Krimms Cathedral, their faces grim.

"Protect!"

"Dawn!"

For a moment, a brilliant golden radiance bathed the ancient Cathedral, making it as resplendent as a lighthouse in a dark ocean.

A gentle, kind, and radiant smile touched Andrews’s lips as he watched the scene unfold.

’Ninety days...’

’The call of the Dawn, or perhaps, its salvation.’

Wherever the light of the Dawn shines, the long night will never prevail!

...

...

「At the same time, in a manor in the northern Natali District.」

"Ales..."

An old man sat by the window, his gaze fixed on Krimms Cathedral in the distance, taking in the dazzling flash of light.

He wore a suit of black noble attire, the cuffs and chest embroidered with a golden crest: a majestic lion.

His silver-gray hair was combed back. Though his face bore few wrinkles, his eyes held a weariness that betrayed the passage of many years.

The two deep lines etched beside his mouth lent him an air of both majesty and magnificence.

Celine Ernst: patriarch of the Ernst Clan, one of the twenty-four founding families of the Shetland Kingdom; Count of the Shetland Kingdom; councilman of Caster City State; and current chairman of the Caster Noble Committee...

Behind this string of titles lay not only his own efforts but also the weight of his clan’s centuries-long glory.

Yet even with his exalted status, several people within Caster City State were still his equals.

For example, there was Judge Albian, who oversaw the city-state’s judiciary, and Archbishop Andrews, who represented the Dawn Church in civic affairs...

But the one who truly preoccupied Old Ernst was the only man whose power and prestige surpassed his own: the Governor who held the very lifeblood of Caster City State in his hands—Samir Stankic.

"Thirty years... The Ernst Clan has finally come this far..."

KNOCK. KNOCK-KNOCK.

Just then, a knock sounded at the door.

The sound interrupted Old Ernst, stifling the ambitious words rising in his throat.

After a long moment, he composed himself. Placing his hands on the armrests, he said, "Come in."

"Grandfather."

A handsome young man walked in, beaming, his light steps betraying his excellent mood.

"Ales has made his move."

"Mm."

Old Ernst grunted faintly, his eyes fixed on him. His gaze was that of a lion staring down its prey, ready to pounce and tear him to shreds at any moment.

Seeing his grandfather’s expression, Lan’er instinctively looked away. Steeling himself, he bowed and stammered, "And... and just now, that matter has been..."

"You seem pleased?"

"Huh?"

"Ales gave the Abyssal Sect the final opening, just as planned. You seem quite smug about it?"

Lan’er froze. "Please, Grandfather, I don’t understand. I... I..."

Old Ernst ignored him, speaking as if to himself. "Samir knew full well that the only person who could stop this crisis was Ales. It could only be him."

"To give the Secret Investigation Department a chance to survive, and to repay his debt to Samir, Ales had no choice but to act."

"Now he is dead. Samir has lost a key supporter, and the Secret Investigation Department is no longer a threat. Everything is proceeding in our favor. That is cause for celebration, is it not?" 𝒇𝒓𝙚𝒆𝔀𝓮𝓫𝒏𝓸𝙫𝓮𝓵.𝓬𝙤𝙢

"It is, isn’t it?"

A fine sheen of sweat broke out on Lan’er’s forehead. He couldn’t understand how he had displeased his grandfather.

"Yes, we *should* be happy! But I have waited thirty years—and the Ernst Clan has waited one hundred and twenty years—for this very opportunity!"

Old Ernst’s voice was flat, but as he spoke them, the numbers carried an inexplicable weight.

Lan’er sat meekly in the chair opposite him, his back ramrod straight, his gaze fixed on the carpet beneath the desk, not daring to utter a single word.

"Lan’er, never let your guard down until the very end. It is precisely at times like this that we must be most vigilant."

"Seventeen years ago, when the Demon Clown broke free, I thought the Ernst Clan was on the verge of rising, but we failed at the final hurdle."

"Samir seized the opportunity to elevate the Secret Investigation Department’s standing, and Ales took the seat of Director. They have suppressed us at every turn... Do you remember?"

Lan’er replied obediently, "I remember, Grandfather."

"Good that you remember. Lan’er, you must burn this into your memory: Never Submit!"

"Never Submit!"

Lan’er knew the Ernst Clan motto better than anyone.

"Hmph. What of the Array?"

"Uncle Shadi has been watching it. For now, only the Abyssal Sect’s handiwork has been exposed. Mitra’s methods are very subtle..."

Old Ernst remained noncommittal. "Tell Shadi that if the Array is discovered, he is to eliminate them. Even if the Array can no longer be activated, not a single person is to be set free."

"It takes at least three days to get from Klande to Caster. That’s more than enough time."

"Understood."

"Mm."