—

No matter how she looked at it, watching her two companions now, Vivian almost missed the days when her biggest headache had been paperwork back in Evernight City.

At least then, she only had to manage documents and subordinates—not two unpredictable Demon Lords who required constant supervision.

But there was no helping it.

The capable Demon Lords had all been left behind by Morgus to hold the front lines against the humans and the Rhine Holy Church.

Meanwhile, within the Radiant Court, Vivian had already noted a decline in their local power.

Many of the stronger beings had left the city—an unmistakable sign that the Church was pulling every available force to the frontlines.

Using her occasional outings as cover, Vivian had carefully verified portions of Morandi’s intelligence.

His information on patrol patterns and guard rotations held true, and she had personally sensed the enormous, rhythmic pulse of energy radiating from the Light Towers.

All evidence pointed to one conclusion: for now, Morandi wasn’t lying.

On the eve of the operation, the three of them gathered to finalize their plan.

Sylvester had already pinpointed the entrance of the secret passage Morandi had referenced, mapping several shadow routes for emergency evacuation.

Molly had nearly memorized the layout of the Sanctified Corridor and mentally rehearsed different strike patterns for assault and retreat.

Vivian once again emphasized the importance of the fifteen-minute window and reviewed contingency signals and fallback procedures.

“Remember,” she said, tone level but grave, “our primary goal is Charles—but our lives take priority. If things go wrong, we retreat immediately.”

“Grk–grrk.”

Molly nodded earnestly.

“Understood.”

Sylvester’s reply was soft but firm.

They all knew—the window was narrow, unforgiving.

If they failed to seize the moment early, pushing further would mean needless death.

Night deepened.

The lights of the outer city dimmed one by one, leaving only the towering Light Towers in the inner city burning steadily like sacred stars.

Their radiance spilled across the heavens—serene and merciless.

For the three Demon Lords, that glow was both beacon and burden.

Vivian stood by the window, eyes fixed on the distant shine.

Tomorrow, everything would be decided.

Success meant chaos and upheaval across the human lands.

Failure meant capture—or death.

She drew a deep breath of the Holy Light–stained air, feeling its burning edge slide down her throat, forcing her mind to steady.

Turning, she saw Sylvester melted once more into the corner shadows—silent, motionless, conserving every drop of mana.

Molly lay on the bed, apparently asleep, though the faint flicker of her lashes betrayed her wakefulness.

Vivian returned to her place, closed her eyes, and began silent calculation.

Every movement, every trigger, every risk—she reviewed them all in relentless repetition until the plans etched themselves into her mind.

At last, the long night passed.

The dawn blazed again over the holy city, flooding its streets with merciless radiance.

For demons, the light was agony. For Demon Lords, endurance.

Sylvester had retreated into the wall’s shadow, barely more than a patch of darkness—still, invisible.

Molly paced like a caged beast, her claws occasionally scraping shallow marks into the wooden floor, a low rumble of unease vibrating in her throat.

Vivian sat still, meditating, forcing calm over the seeping strain pressing from both body and mind.

Time crawled like molten glass.

When the sun finally began to sink in the west, painting the horizon with burning orange—freedom’s color for the Demon Clan—the three of them stirred simultaneously.

Vivian’s eyes opened.

“It’s time. Prepare to move.”

Her voice was low, firm, and final.

Sylvester materialized from shadow, pale yet sharp-eyed, the calm lethality of a true Demon Lord in his gaze.

Molly stretched her neck and wrists; her light-gold pupils tightened to slits—predatory, focused.

They checked their equipment one last time, silent, synchronized.

Then—

A soft, rippling hum filled the air.

Barely perceptible, yet to Demon Lords, as clear as thunder.

The vibration radiated outward from the city’s core, a subtler shift that changed everything.

Vivian felt it immediately.

It wasn’t disappearance—it was reconfiguration.

The Light Towers’ energy frequency had changed, the entire field rearranging its flow.

The holy field still enveloped the city, but the purifying choke-hold that crushed all foreign energy lessened—slightly, but unmistakably.

Like a furnace running low on fuel, its heat was faltering.

“The window has opened.”

Vivian’s eyes gleamed with sudden focus.

“Move out!”

Three silhouettes vanished from the inn like blowing ash.

They didn’t take the door; their bodies slipped soundlessly through the rear window, dropping into the alleyway below without a trace.

Sylvester led, merging seamlessly with dusk itself, guiding them down narrow streets while avoiding patrols and detection wards alike.

According to Morandi’s diagram, they reached the dead end of a quiet alley where piles of abandoned construction materials lay.

There, cloaked by illusion and hidden seals, was the concealed entrance.

Sylvester extended a hand, tracing his fingers over the faint magic nodes.

A whisper of shadow-energy coursed through his fingertips, triggering invisible points in sequence.

Click.

A small, dull sound, and a portion of the wall slid inward without resistance—revealing a narrow passage descending into blackness.

The air that poured out was cool and stale, tainted with an ancient, forbidden stillness completely alien to the holy city above.

“Go,” Vivian commanded first, stepping into the passage without hesitation.

Sylvester followed closely behind, while Molly secured the rear, gently closing the wall after them.

The secret tunnel was narrow and damp, crawling deep beneath the city.

Its ancient bricks were overrun with moss, the air heavy with the scent of decay.

Clearly, this place had been abandoned for centuries.

For Morandi to have found and reopened it—his reach within the Church was impressive indeed.

They moved in silence, their footfalls nearly soundless.

Sylvester guided the way, tracing the “flow” of shadows to ensure safety.

Vivian focused on the faint pulse of holy energy above, monitoring every fluctuation.

The suppression field remained weakened and stable—for now.

This was only the beginning.

The real hunt would begin once the Light Tower’s shutdown completed.

When the Holy Light dimmed enough to allow them full motion…

that would be their moment to strike.