Let’s Do It!

Roughly fifteen minutes later, the tunnel began sloping upward.

Sylvester halted at the incline, pointing toward a faint outline above—a cleverly disguised exit.

“Above us should be the eastern edge of the Sanctified Corridor,” he whispered. “According to the map, there’s a small tool shed nearby for garden supplies—good cover.”

He extended one pale hand and silently worked the mechanism.

The concealed hatch opened without a sound.

One after another, the three slipped out like running water, melting into the shadows of a tall hedge.

The view ahead widened.

They had entered the inner sanctum of the Radiant Court.

A pristine corridor unfolded before them, its marble tiles pale as jade.

Columns of white stone bore carvings of saints and divine murals; one side opened into a sculpted garden, the other connected to rows of subsidiary halls.

Further ahead, the spires of the Light Towers rose high into the fiery dusk, their crystal crowns glowing more gently than before—still majestic, but not blinding.

The air remained saturated with Holy Light, though its crushing force had weakened to perhaps seventy percent.

Vivian felt the difference instantly—the oppressive shackles around her magic had eased.

The same relief rippled through the others.

“According to Morandi’s intel,” Vivian murmured, scanning the length of the corridor, “Charles should be passing through here soon—heading to the Meditation Hall for evening prayers.”

“Timing’s close. Spread out and wait for visual confirmation—or the signal from the Light Towers.”

“Grk!” Molly nodded briskly and, with a flicker, unfurled her triple pair of wings.

Her figure shot upward in near silence, vanishing among the ornate reliefs near the ceiling.

Hidden within the shadows of the high archways, her golden eyes scanned the walkway below with patient, predatory focus.

Sylvester melted into the flagstones, dissolving into a stretch of crawling shadow—motionless, snake-like, poised to strike.

Vivian adjusted her illusion again, robes shifting into the hues of a humble nun’s habit.

Head lowered, steps even, she walked slowly along the corridor’s edge like any other servant of the light—her senses, however, honed to a razor’s edge.

Minutes crawled past.

Clerics and attendants traversed the hall intermittently, but none matching the saint’s profile.

Vivian’s tension built.

Had Morandi misled them? Had Charles changed his routine?

No—she’d confirmed the details personally only yesterday.

Everything had matched.

Then, softly, a faint rasp—a whisper of motion in the shadow beside her feet.

It was Sylvester’s signal.

“The target… appears… forward turn… three persons…”

The fragmented telepathic murmur reached her consciousness.

Vivian’s pupils constricted.

“He’s here.”

Her heart quickened slightly, but her step remained controlled.

She turned the corner marked by Sylvester.

And there he was.

Three figures walked slowly down the corridor.

The one in the center wore a long white robe embroidered with gold—a sun surrounded by radiant wings.

His face was strikingly handsome, yet carried an air of languid detachment, as though the world itself were a gentle dream to him.

Saint Charles.

Flanking him were two armored knights, their weapons gleaming faintly with the light’s blessing.

Their discipline and aura marked them as elite—perhaps not Heroes, but enhanced paladins nonetheless.

He appeared unaware.

But the moment Vivian saw him, she knew.

That feeling—not illusion, not intuition—something deeper.

Like recognizing a reflection in another mirror of darkness.

“Grk?” Molly’s soft growl brushed her mind.

“Not yet,” Vivian’s thoughts replied, calm and decisive. “Wait for my command.”

Charles hadn’t felt their presence.

But Vivian’s instincts screamed caution.

Attack now, and she might trigger a trap she couldn’t recover from.

The last thing she wanted was another “defeat.”

And surely Charles—beloved by the Church, heir to divine blessings—wouldn’t walk without protection, physical or otherwise.

Seconds dragged into minutes.

Charles’s group moved steadily closer, nearing the midpoint of the corridor—and soon would pass beyond their reach.

Molly waited above, wings tensed.

Sylvester’s shadows pulsed faintly underfoot, restless.

Vivian remained perfectly still.

Waiting.

Watching.

Then—

A sudden dimming.

The Radiant Court’s eternal glow faltered.

The immaculate heavens above turned several shades darker.

Even Charles and his guards paused, confusion flickering across their faces.

“What…?”

High above, one of the Light Towers shimmered violently—its luminous flow stuttering.

Then, shockingly, a central crystal went out.

A pillar of the city’s divine luminance had gone dark.

Holy magic rippled outward chaotically; murmurs and gasps echoed faintly from nearby halls.

The moment it happened, Vivian felt it—

The suffocating weight around her dissolved.

Mana surged again through her veins, fierce and alive.

Now.

Her amber eyes glittered with cold clarity.

“Move!”

Their telepathic network burst alive.

Molly dove from above.

Like a hawk upon prey, her wings curved inward as she plummeted, speed compressing the air into a shriek.

Ebony-blue scales rippled across her arms, and her claws expanded into blades.

Her strike cut through the light itself, aimed straight for Charles’s throat.

Simultaneously, the shadow beneath Charles writhed and erupted—

Dozens of black tendrils lashed upward like serpents, winding toward his legs, locking the ground beneath him in place.

Sylvester’s trap struck true.

Vivian dropped her disguise.

The Demon Lord of Evernight revealed herself fully for the first time within the holy sanctum.

Dark mana exploded outward in a storm of umbral flame, swirling into a spear of pure shadow—its tip aimed at Charles’s heart.

In a heartbeat, light and darkness collided.