The Central Altar always hummed with a low, asthmatic wheeze. Lord Leo claimed it was the air filtration system fighting the pressure differential, but to Vivian, the air smelled of ancient dust.

  She held her breath, telling herself it wasn't dust. It was the ash of sins being purged.

  She knelt on the prayer mat, meticulously polishing the alloy staff Lord Leo had bestowed upon her with a linen cloth.

  Under her friction, the cold metal grew warm. It was the symbol of Divine Right. An extension of her own arm.

  The "trials" of the past few days had invigorated her. But beneath the surface calm, the war between Truth and Heresy raged with new violence.

  She gazed with pity at her two "sisters."

  To her left, Miranda was picking at her face again. A strip of synthetic dermis sloughed off like dead parchment.

  A poor wretch incapable of pain, Vivian chanted internally. She maintains a corpse long dead. The cleaner her plastic skin, the filthier her soul.

  To her right, Isabella was feeding her demonic serpents.

  Green mucus dripped from the vines into the dimples of her smile. The flowers drank greedily, blooming with obscene speed. The heretic let out a moan of bliss, her eyes fogged with botanical lust.

  Hmph. A madwoman whose soul has been colonized by weeds. She throws open the temple of her body to chaotic debauchery.

  Vivian traced the sign of the Silver Ring over her heart.

  Only me. She gripped the staff until her knuckles whitened. Only this scarred, bleeding flesh is the living altar. The ironclad proof that God favors me.

  "Your Shadow Thrall... how much longer can he last?"

  Miranda's voice pierced the sanctity of the silence. She nodded toward the far corner.

  Lord Leo sat deep in the shadows, his back to them. He was consuming a Holy Wafer, observing the supreme "Vow of Silence," playing a silent game of chess with this collapsing world.

  "I don't understand your meaning, Purified One." Vivian cast a cold glance at Miranda.

  "Don't play dumb, sister." Miranda tilted her head, a strip of skin fluttering. "Don't you know? Whether the Lunar Rite is completed or not, the Shadow Thrall is destined for martyrdom."

  Ignoring Vivian's rising anger, Isabella leaned in, her voice dripping with false sympathy. "I heard it too. Human-shaped shadows are inefficient. The best ending for them is becoming a walking corpse. That’s why I brought the Flower Barge. No emotional baggage."

  "Yes. That man is just your discard," Miranda pronounced cruelly. "Single-use. Like my Elephant Throne. But my elephant was never human. Your Lord Leo... tsk tsk. What a waste of biomass."

  Vivian's breath hitched.

  These blasphemous words were like barbed whips lashing her soul.

  They cannot defeat Lord Leo in debate, so they use despicable slander to blacken his name.

  The scene from last night surfaced in her mind. When she had asked Lord Leo why the Ring allowed Miranda and Isabella to attend without Guardians, he had simply said: "It shows that the senile, incompetent old farts up top don't care about rules. As long as you win, as long as the ratings are high, you can bring demons to the altar and they'll call it holy."

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  At that moment, she had understood: The Silver Ring has been thoroughly eroded by False Gods!

  If the High Priests no longer recognize the sanctity of flesh and blood...

  Vivian's pupils contracted violently, golden light exploding in her irises.

  ...Then I must defend the Way myself!

  It is precisely because of the Ring's fall that Lord Leo appeared. That is why He descended, donning a mortal shell to endure this injustice.

  I am His only witness. He is my only fellow traveler.

  We are the King and Queen of the Silver Ring.

  She felt the ecstasy of the Chosen rush through her veins.

  "You are wrong."

  Vivian stood up. The shadows stretched from her shoulders like wings. She looked down at the two pitiful women with the coldness of a Judge.

  "You don't know what a Miracle is. You only have the illusions of heresy!"

  She strode toward the God in the corner.

  Lord Leo turned, eyes wide, a piece of dry compressed biscuit halfway to his mouth.

  She didn't hesitate. She cupped his stubbled face and crushed her mouth against his.

  It was the first time she had served Lord Leo in front of unbelievers.

  She forced the fishy-sweet warmth of her own blood into God's mouth, sweeping away the dry, gritty crumbs of the wafer, mingling them with his saliva, and swallowing the mixture whole.

  Communion.

  It was the Nectar of God. The cleanest food in the world.

  Lord Leo's body trembled violently.

  Is God always shaken by the fanaticism of believers? No. This is two souls in perfect resonance.

  After a long moment, Vivian released him.

  She turned around proudly, facing Miranda's stunned disgust. She slowly wiped a trace of blood from the corner of her mouth, sucked it off her finger, and smiled the smile of a victor.

  "Did you see?"

  Her voice trembled with extreme piety.

  "He is not a discard. He is my half-body. My Godhead. My true Guardian!"

  Miranda turned her head away, physically repulsed. "Indecent. Absolutely indecent."

  Isabella, however, stared with wide eyes, a flush rising on her cheeks that refused to fade.

  As for Lord Leo...

  He was burying his face in his hands, letting out low, muffled wails of what could only be overwhelming happiness.

  ...

  The next day.

  Lord Leo, scouting ahead, sent the sternest warning yet. The real trial had begun. A zone filled with the Devil's Breath. Lord Leo called it a "neurotoxic weapon of severe pain." On the map, he marked it as the Red Mist Zone.

  Miranda was unimpressed. She rode her elephant, head held high, charging into the mist with mocking arrogance.

  "Run away, you stone," Vivian sneered. "You dare not face the trial of pain. You will never receive the True God's recognition."

  Vivian adjusted her posture, cooperating as Lord Leo installed a filtration veil over her face.

  "Don't worry," Lord Leo's voice came through the bone conduction, clinical and precise. "As long as you don't do something stupid like take it off, the double-layer catalytic net isolates 99% of the toxins. Plus the dialysis machine in your backpack... it's foolproof."

  Vivian closed her eyes, feeling unparalleled safety in the slightly suffocating restraint.

  This is not just a veil. It is Him, weaving a gauze tent of wisdom to shield me from harm.

  Suddenly, a scream rang out.

  Isabella's "Flower Barge" was spinning out of control at the edge of the Red Mist. Her datura flowers withered the instant they touched the fog. Although they regenerated, the needle of pain had clearly pierced Isabella's soul.

  "Help me..." Isabella reached out a hand that seemed to be wilting like her flowers.

  Lord Leo’s voice was cold. "Leave her. She asked for it."

  But in Vivian's eyes, this was a divine opportunity.

  Miranda was a cowardly stone. Isabella was a fawn punished by God. Only she possessed true Mercy.

  Since I am the only "Sacred Vessel," surely showing God's mercy to a lost heretic is the ultimate proof of Lord Leo's divinity?

  "Wait, Lord Leo." Vivian spoke loudly, as if reading a royal pardon. "Isabella. As long as you admit the sanctity of flesh and blood, God will pity you."

  A strange, liquid light flashed in Isabella's eyes. She turned her gaze to the hidden figure of the Guardian.

  "I admit it. Please... let your Guardian... come aboard and help me steer..."

  Vivian smiled, submerged in holy brilliance.

  She turned to her God.

  "Go, Lord Leo. Go show your mercy. Go steer that out-of-control boat. Let this lost fawn see with her own eyes what true redemption looks like."

  Lord Leo’s eyes widened in horror. He shook his head.

  But under her relentless, pious insistence, he finally sighed. He set down his heavy cultivation backpack, crossed the red safety line, and stepped onto the flower barge that reeked of sweet, cloying pollen.

  Vivian drew a Silver Ring on her chest with satisfaction.

  Behold. Even creation eroded by heresy must submit beneath His feet.

  Suddenly, she saw Isabella turn back.

  The woman hooked a smile at her.

  It wasn't a smile of gratitude. It was the smile of a thief who had just been handed the keys to the vault.

  Your Guardian... is mine now.