Creak—creak—
A horse-drawn carriage rumbled down a mountain road shrouded in thick night.
The wheels jolted whenever they struck loose stones, causing the entire vehicle to shake slightly.
Two pitch-black horses galloped at an astonishing speed, hauling the heavy carriage behind them.
They had been running for several kilometers, yet there was no sign of fatigue—no foam at the mouth, no labored breathing, no whinnies.
Their eyes were dull and lifeless, like stagnant pools of water.
There was no flicker of emotion.
Only blind, relentless forward motion.
That was because these horses were never truly alive.
Inside the slightly swaying carriage, four oil lamps were mounted in each corner, casting a dim, yellow glow that mingled the shadows of the three passengers.
Germain.
Don.
And Ging.
They were the only ones inside.
In the ruins of the ancient labyrinth castle, Don had once asked Germain if he still wished to come along, even after knowing how dangerous this journey would be.
Germain had thought of Shizuku, far away on the New Continent.
He thought of their unborn child.
But precisely because of that, he hadn't hesitated long.
Even if the risk was terrifying, he had to go.
This crisis—worse than the chaos unleashed over a year ago by the "God of Resentment"—had to be stopped.
He couldn't allow the "God of Flesh" to devour both the eastern and western shores of Lake Mobius.
If that ever happened, humanity's future would be completely doomed.
They had already given too much.
To retreat back to the Sixth Continent like cowards and wait for the end… that was a fate too tragic to accept.
Ging had also chosen to join them.
Besides his deep curiosity about the western shores, he knew he'd be a reliable ally to both Germain and Don.
By contrast, Bisky had to remain behind at the ancient labyrinth castle.
Although they had slain four major-type monsters—including the "Prophet of Lies"—that didn't mean the threat to the castle was completely over.
Bisky was, aside from the three of them, the strongest combatant.
She had to stay behind — just in case.
Germain, on the other hand, could always monitor the state of the ancient labyrinthine fortress via the lantern's teleportation nodes.
If necessary, he could return in an instant.
But Bisky had to hold the line.
She was the last safeguard.
She had to endure — until Germain returned.
That very night, Germain laid everything bare to Steiner and the Hunter Association's core members — the chaos in the New Continent, the horrifying truth behind the tide of flesh monsters, and the real forces pulling the strings.
Some already knew about the "God of Resentment" and the "God of Flesh."
Some had long harbored suspicions — tonight, those suspicions were confirmed.
And others were utterly clueless, now completely lost in a fog of shock and disbelief.
Steiner had lived through that disaster.
He had seen those vicious beasts firsthand, stood beneath that terrifying storm, and felt the indescribable pressure that suffocated the soul.
Later, the Hunter Association published an investigation report.
According to it, the Kakin royal family's "Seed Urn Ceremony" had gone awry, summoning evil entities and even turning those related to the royal bloodline into monsters themselves.
Steiner accepted the conclusion on the surface.
But deep down, he had always sensed the Association hadn't told the whole truth.
Only now did he understand how staggering the hidden parts truly were.
In truth, after encountering the Gatekeeper at the Boundary Gate, the guide of the ghost ferry, and the sunken city in the deep sea — he had already developed a strong mental tolerance.
And after trekking across the Dark Continent's coastal jungles for more than a month, he believed that no matter what he saw or learned next, nothing would shake him again.
But what Germain revealed tonight shattered his beliefs all over again.
It was too much.
He sat frozen in his chair, wordless.
Germain had no time to let them digest the truth.
Once he finished speaking, he was to leave immediately — alongside Don and Ging.
Those who remained behind would take the same role they had during the previous catastrophe:
Using the ancient labyrinth as a base, they would slowly gather nearby survivors — demi-humans or any intelligent beings they could communicate with.
In battle, there was Bisky, Morel, and Kanzai.
For logistics, there were Cheadle, Knov, and Menchi.
Surviving in this area, at least, would not be a problem.
Inside the carriage sat three people who were about to journey deep into the western lands.
They had to cut through countless obstacles and complete three important missions.
The first mission was to attract the attention of large creatures in the west, like the "Prophet of Lies," so these monsters would chase the carriage and ease the pressure on the eastern lands.
The second mission was to follow the steps described by Don and destroy the "Ritual Stone Formations" one by one, weakening the power of the "Flesh God."
The third mission, if possible, was to kill the so-called "Demigod."
No matter how slim the hope, no one could deny one fact: the chance of a human being killed by a cat was very low—but not zero.
At this moment inside the carriage, the three sat in different postures, each reflecting their unique personalities.
Germain sat properly, hands resting calmly on his knees, showing composure.
Don curled up in a corner of the carriage, wrapping his black robe tightly as if he was cold, his hood pulled over his head.
Ging was half-lying back, hands clasped behind his head, legs relaxed and crossed on the bench.
"Don," Ging, with his unshaven face, spoke first. "We've been on the road for a while now. Isn't it time to tell us where exactly we're headed?"
Germain, wearing a triangular hat, lifted his head from his thoughts and looked toward Don as well.
Don nodded. "Before I say anything, I want to thank you for your courage—especially since you know what we're about to face."
Germain said nothing, and Ging shrugged. Their meaning was the same: they were ready for whatever lay ahead.
Don paused for a moment before continuing.
"Humans, Chimera Ants, Moose Centaurs, Fierce Foxes... in any race, an individual who develops to the extreme becomes that race's 'King.'"
"A 'King' trains certain qualities—willpower, intelligence, strength, speed, or a combination—and elevates them far beyond all others of their kind."
"After that, when they wanted to become stronger, they would be affected by many factors — talent, potential, aging, environment, and even their mindset. Sometimes, instead of advancing, they would actually regress."
"Soon, the 'King' would gain self-awareness or acquire 'knowledge' from the 'Demigods,' realizing that to break through such bottlenecks and limits, they needed to rely on external forces."
"They created 'rituals.' Using these operating 'rituals,' they set corresponding rules, drawing other life forms in the area into them to nourish their own essence."
"Afterward, the best among the 'Kings' would ascend through the 'rituals' to a new level — the realm of the 'Apostles of God.'"
"Then, if multiple 'Apostles of God's rituals' were operating simultaneously, occupying a vast region and using the local lifeforms for their own purposes, the ultimate being they would sustain would be a 'Demigod.'"
"This is how the 'Curse of Resentment' operates, how the 'Deep Sea' works, and similarly for the 'Flesh and Blood' and the 'Darkness.'"
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