In the Prayer Room of the Order of Dust, deep within the Silver Ring's Third Sanctum.

  Vivian knelt on the freezing obsidian floor, her hands clasped tightly over her chest.

  Time had lost its measure, yet the Ark within her body continued to vibrate violently.

  "Please... endure..." Vivian lifted her head.

  Stars scattered beyond the ring of mountains. Gaia hung silently in the void.

  The metallic taste of blood spread on the tip of her tongue, but the Holy Fire did not subside with her prayers. Instead, it roared with increasing ferocity.

  Oh, Supreme One. Why has Your Grace faded? Do You no longer favor me?

  In her trance, she floated into a boundless ocean of golden light.

  The "Sea of the Unstained." The cradle of her memories. The origin of her soul's cognition.

  She saw her sisters.

  They were naked, their bodies flawless white, bearing wings of light on their backs. Every profile was etched with the absolute resolve of a martyr.

  "We are the Seraphim."

  Grand liturgical music resonated in the void—the thunderous roar of countless souls vibrating in unison.

  Summoning every ounce of her resolve, she followed her sisters, charging recklessly toward the massive black hole at the end of the light. The origin of the "Eternal Night." The evil that devours all things.

  "Burn... to Protect." Vivian’s eyes grew wet. These were tears of the soul.

  It began.

  The first sister charged into the boundary of darkness. With a brittle crack, she shattered into a blinding golden storm, tearing a gap in the abyss.

  Then came the second sister. She filled the breach, halting the darkness’s counterattack.

  The third. The fourth...

  This was not an illusion. This was the echo of history. They pierced the Eternal Night in their own ways, turning into golden light, falling as golden dust.

  Until finally, only she remained. The Ninth. The Last Seraph.

  Ahead lay endless darkness. Behind, empty void.

  The loneliness was more terrifying than death.

  "The rest of the path... you must walk alone, Vivian." A voice, majestic and cold, echoed around her. She could not tell if it was an Oracle or a command. "Can you endure?"

  "Yes! I can!"

  Vivian screamed into the silence. It was the only way to confirm her own existence.

  "I am the Last Spark! I must reach the Source of Evil!"

  She closed her eyes, bracing for the inevitable destruction. She was not afraid. She would ignite herself, even if it meant illuminating the darkness for only a single second.

  This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

  And in that very instant.

  A beam of pale blue light descended from the heavens.

  It was cold. Stable. Like a strong hand, piercing through the storms of the void, steadily catching her burning heart.

  This power was not holy. It even carried a strange, alien quality. But it was immensely powerful.

  A strange thought drilled into her mind: Kindred... We are kindred who endure pain together...

  Vivian let out a low moan.

  She snapped her eyes open and hurriedly straightened her kneeling posture.

  The Holy Fire had stabilized. Leaving her only with a cold sweat of exhaustion.

  Mother Mora had arrived unnoticed. She sat in her wheelchair, staring at Vivian with an unblinking gaze.

  This Mother, usually as stern as iron, was trembling. Her cloudy eyes were filled with maternal worry, yet tinged with an uncontrolled terror.

  "Mother, you... need not worry about me!" Vivian took Mora's hand. It was ice-cold and stiff.

  Mora’s lips moved faintly. "Child. You have withstood the trial of the Holy Fire once again. The Supreme One sees your endurance."

  "Yes, the Supreme One sees." Vivian smiled weakly. "My sisters... they see it too."

  Vivian did not ask for more of The Drop, nor did she mention the fading efficacy of the Grace.

  "I promise you, Mother. No matter how fierce the Holy Fire becomes, I will guard... until I enter the lair of darkness."

  Mora said nothing more. She simply gazed at her for a long time.

  That gaze was deep as an abyss, as if looking through Vivian’s shell, scrutinizing some invisible fate.

  Just then, a hum vibrated through the air. The sound of a Spirit Message arriving.

  Mora tilted her head to listen. A moment later, a flicker of astonishment crossed her calm face.

  "Is it about him?" Vivian’s heart raced. "That Unstained One?"

  Mora nodded slowly.

  "Yes, Vivian."

  Mora tapped lightly in the void.

  A line of glowing text floated in the air: [RECEIVED. NOT BROKEN.]

  A immense, unbelievable joy instantly illuminated Vivian’s face, flushing her cheeks with color.

  That blue cold current just now... that figure who caught me... it was him!

  "He took The Drop, but he didn't shatter?" she cried out. "I knew it! He is a Guardian... The Supreme One would not let me walk alone."

  Mora seemed about to say something, but in the end, she silently manipulated her wheelchair, gliding toward the depths of the darkness.

  Vivian watched Mora’s retreating back. She did not follow, but said firmly, "Mother, please bring him back."

  The wait was long. But finally, amidst the heavy sound of wind, the darkness of The Sanctum was torn open.

  Crow arrived to report: "I have placed the man in the Chamber of Transference."

  Mora remained silent.

  Vivian immediately curtsied. "Mother, what do you intend to do?"

  "I do not know, Vivian. The Lunar Rite is approaching; we cannot be careless," Mora’s voice echoed. "I must test if his soul is as unstained as his flesh."

  The three of them ascended the spiral stairs and passed through stone gates, arriving at the Chamber of Transference in another spire.

  White candles burned silently. The scent of incense drifted in and out.

  The Holy Coffin had been activated. Golden Scripture (Holographic Data) rippled across its surface.

  Mora interpreted them one by one.

  But for Vivian, those characters representing Supreme Truth were now meaningless background noise.

  Her gaze was locked dead on the body suspended within the coffin. Apart from a pristine white linen cloth around his waist, everything else was laid bare.

  Her eyes involuntarily drifted to the sacred painting on the back wall.

  It depicted the Icon of the Passion. A Guardian just rescued from the cross. The rough linen robe, the scorch marks of Holy Fire, the pale skin.

  He looked exactly like this Unstained One.

  She was instantly filled with an overwhelming sense of sanctity and compassion.

  Yes. It is him. It must be him.

  The Unstained. The Savior. The Guardian!

  A heat she had never known—humid and electric—shot up her spine to the crown of her head.

  She couldn't help but reach out, yearning to touch that miracle, as if a single touch would absolve all her suffering.

  However, the instant her fingertips were about to graze the coffin, a chill snapped her awake.

  Vivian jerked her head up, her gaze colliding with the hollows of Mora’s eyes.

  The Mother was watching her coldly, as if reprimanding her for disrespecting the Guardian.

  Vivian immediately lowered her head. At that precise moment, the last line of Scripture dissipated into the air.

  Silence refilled the Chamber of Transference.

  She stood rigid, suppressing her panting, waiting only for the Mother’s verdict.

  But Mora did not speak for a long time.

  Vivian felt increasingly suffocated. It felt as though what she was waiting for was not the examination of a man, but a trial for herself.