Boom!
Inside the Kremlin Palace in Moscow, an immense shadow loomed above the great hall. It was like a colossal primordial beast, towering as high as the cluster of palaces themselves. Its vast form, difficult to fully discern, resembled a living mountain. Its ashen-blue flesh squirmed incessantly, and the roar it let out shook the earth beneath. The rebel soldiers who had broken into the palace felt their courage crumble.
It roared.
It howled.
Its crimson eyes hung in the sky like blood-red suns.
High above, shrouded in snow and mist, its head bore the unmistakable silhouette of a crown.
Just as Lucan had declared—
It was both angel and demon. A Phantom Spirit, crafted through miracles.
And it was also the sole emperor of the Tsarist Empire—
Nicholas II.
Angels: messengers of gods, extensions of nature.
Demons: embodiments of human emotion.
This was the foundation of the Phantom Spirit—a fusion of nature's power and the fear embedded in the hearts of the people by generations of tsars.
Nicholas II was the vessel for this Phantom Spirit.
This was the result of prior discussions between Lucan and the last Tsar. Only Nicholas II could bear this burden. No matter how mediocre he was, he still carried the bloodline of the tsars and reigned as emperor. Only he could inherit the centuries of terror associated with the name "Tsar."
This was Lucan's second display of mystery in this world.
The emperor had become a beast—a rampaging colossus. Alone, it stood against the advancing rebels. Artillery fire exploded across its body, but the blasts seemed utterly meaningless.
Almost simultaneously—
In the deserted districts of Moscow, after the first snowflake fell came the second, then the third. Snow mist returned, flowing like melted ice forming rivulets. The howling wind surged once more.
The light on Lucan's pitch-black ceremonial robes grew brighter. The cracks in the miracle barrier sealing space and time widened—
But Sesshōin Kiara, the mistress of this ritual, made no move to repair it. She simply held her black dagger, quietly watching the man radiating with mystery. Watching the smile on his handsome face—that triumphant smile.
His plan had succeeded.
"So I wasn't trapping you. You were delaying me?" Sesshōin Kiara withdrew her dagger, stepping back. The full curves beneath her black-and-white habit swayed with her movement.
"Correct, but no prize for the right answer," Lucan replied.
Scheming was the norm for magi.
This confrontation had come unexpectedly, but as a proper magus, he had prepared contingencies for unforeseen developments.
He had spent an entire year preparing for this moment.
Nicholas II's family—the empress, the princesses, and most of the palace personnel—had already been evacuated. Only those prepared to die remained.
Everything was arranged.
All final preparations had long been completed—merely awaiting the right moment.
So this wasn't truly a delay. It was merely a matter of accelerating the schedule.
And in his plan, he had accounted for a showdown with this woman—
Sesshōin Kiara, one of the Burial Agency's Seats. A parallel-world counterpart to the "Evils of Humanity." The one known as the "Nun."
In all of Moscow—perhaps all of the Russian Empire—only she could halt Lucan's plan.
Though trapped, Lucan had used it to his advantage—
Drawing her in. Buying time.
"How interesting. You're fascinating. And that Nicholas II is too," Sesshōin Kiara laughed. "I thought he was nothing more than a weak, cowardly monarch. But to think he'd make such a decision—daring to accept possession by a Phantom Spirit and bear this rebellious power!"
She stood on the crumbling street, amid swirling snow and wind that howled like the teeth of some great beast. She didn't hide her admiration—or her amusement.
"A man that timid, showing such resolve under your guidance... Unbelievable."
"But this is as far as you go." She was still smiling, but her eyes grew serious.
"Your rebellion did surprise me. You even shook my heart for a moment. But I've seen enough. Whether angel or demon, if I kill you here, it's over."
A low hum vibrated from within her.
Lucan narrowed his eyes.
He knew she was about to unleash her true power. As a top agent of the Church's Burial Agency, what she had shown so far was only a fraction.
But he wasn't panicked. Nor was he shocked. He simply watched.
There was no stopping her—not now.
A thunderous roar erupted. The space cracked apart. The frozen snow came crashing down like a breached dam. Dust and frost fell like pale curtains from the heavens.
A moment of stillness—
Then another blast.
Lucan stood unshaken in the street. The roads remained cold and silent. Frost closed in from all directions. Amid the freezing air, his robes shimmered ever more brightly, spreading like wings or tassels. Beneath them, his skin glowed with magic. The first and second layers of his Sacred Temple thaumaturgy activated simultaneously, holding back the avalanche of energy.
Across from him, snow mist still obscured the view.
Then—
Sesshōin Kiara emerged, and her appearance had changed.
"Didn't expect you'd force me to use this form. What a delight. I hope you can entertain me even more, Lucan Luvist."
Her voice retained its swaying cadence.
The snow dispersed. Shadows faded.
Sesshōin Kiara no longer wore her thick nun's habit.
Instead, she donned an extremely revealing outfit.
Fabric still adorned her head—but no longer the veil of a nun. Now, only fluttering ribbons remained. Her long, jet-black hair flowed freely in the storm. Crimson horns extended from her forehead, etched with glowing circuits. Her once-delicate face now radiated with dangerous allure. A red mark between her brows glowed demonically.
Her round chest was exposed, with only a faint covering at the peaks. Her shoulders were bare. Her arms opened wide, as if to embrace the world. But beneath her upraised arms, a deep, captivating cleavage drew the eye.
A narrow waist. Generous hips.
Only a single triangle of fabric covered her lower body.
The sacred nun's form could no longer hide her voluptuous figure. Now, she embodied her codename—a nun who sought to save all beings, yet also a celestial demon of love.
Anything but a nun.
The mystery radiating from her matched her form.
"You really are a bald monk..." Lucan remarked dryly.
"Demonic Bodhisattva—"
A form reminiscent of the "Evils of Humanity"—seven calamities born of mankind.
The Demonic Bodhisattva.
A being born of humanity's lust and love.
Her strength didn't quite match those evils.
So it was only a resemblance.
Lucan remained calm and confident.
"In that case, I suppose I'll take things seriously too."
At his words—
The towering beast above the Kremlin let out a low roar.
A gust of wind scattered the snow.
Its true form was revealed—
A colossus wearing imperial regalia, crowned as emperor.
It was—
"I am the nation!"
Like a monarch returned, the entire city of Moscow quaked.
Mountains, rivers, cities, and towns—
All of the Tsarist Empire responded to its emperor's summons—
To the call of Lucan Luvist, who now stood above the throne.