Ulrich held his breath, staring at his fist as though it were a declaration of death. In that moment, silence occupied the space between himself, Zheng San, and the verdant forest.

  Even after all this time, the results of certain divinations still scare me.

  He chuckled and shook his head, finding it rather amusing. And for a second, the only sound that lingered was his laughter, a deprecating cackle that was as brief as snowflakes.

  Wiping a tear from his face, Ulrich loosened his grip, revealing its contents.

  No matter the revelation, it should not affect his plan for the future. It was a comforting thought, though he knew, it meant much more than that.

  Slowly, the content of his divination was revealed—head.

  In coin divination, there was no need for complex interpretation of the revelation. It was either true or false, and looking at it, he closed his fist once more.

  This island is Belham… He sighed, then looked around.

  It is no different from a wild, remote island. A once prosperous city—scattered in the fog sea—is nowhere to be seen; only my memories remain.

  Was there a need to doubt his divination this time? No. The feedback that stems from his spirituality was clearer than that of the night sky. Standing here in person while possessing the necessary information, his revelation was direct.

  Six hundred years. This length of time was difficult to grasp. It is enough for a kingdom to rise to prosperity and fall into ruins. Enough for the ushering of a new era, an epoch.

  Thinking so, he turned to Zheng San and smiled.

  Back then, I was fearful of the unknown, of not knowing the truth of my transmigration. I was afraid that the so-called home was just a dream, and that my life had always been here and now—Belham.

  Ulrich sank deep into his thoughts.

  Meanwhile, the entire sequence of events startled Zheng San—Ulrich standing still, a strange sudden breeze, then disappeared the moment Ulrich moved. All of it felt bizarre, a sort of greasy feeling that clung to his fingers.

  But, recalling his first meeting with Ulrich, as well as the rumors related to the higher-ranking members of the Eternal Club, he bore an assumption:

  Is he a higher-ranking member of the Eternal Club? Tasked with something relating to this island?

  Either way, Zheng San kept his mouth shut, afraid of interrupting Ulrich’s work.

  In that moment, an idea woke Ulrich from his stupor.

  Since this island was Belham, under the jurisdiction of the Ministry at one point in time. Shouldn’t the Night Mother exist as well? If ‘she’ exists, then where are ‘her’ followers?

  After all, ‘she’ is a deity, a god with divinity and a divine kingdom. To a god, the span of six hundred years might as well be nap time.

  As a matter of fact, the years that span the second epoch to the current era are well over a thousand years. And yet, the Night Mother still exists, prospering throughout the five luminants.

  He paced back and forth, recalling Rosaline’s teaching.

  Prior to entering the Shadow Realm, she taught him the ritual for opening the Shadow Gate, which would bring him back to the surface world. Without it, Ulrich would be trapped in the shadow realm forever, bound to the darkness and losing the ‘light’ within him.

  That same ritual required the ‘attention’ of the Great Mother, as well as praying for ‘her’ grace. The reason is because of his low status. After all, being a rank 1 Shadowmancer, it was impossible to ‘open’ the Shadow Gate with his own capability. In a way, he was merely a vessel, a lighthouse in the darkness that allows Rosaline to ‘find’ him.

  Of course, there were certain prices he had to pay, mainly the umbra shards. As for the other materials, they only needed to be items that shared some symbolism with the Night Mother. This was to please the targeted Deity.

  Following his understanding of ritualistic magic, as well as leveraging the corresponding knowledge from Father Lorel’s lecture, Ulrich formulated a simple ritual.

  The goal of this ritual is simple: elicit a response from the Night Mother.

  Just thinking about it made him shiver. Out of habit, he tapped his chest thrice, then realized:

  That’s weird. Why did I just praise the mother? I’m not even a believer!

  He coughed and turned to Zheng San, raising his hand forth.

  “Give me your lighter.”

  Zheng San almost slapped it away, but recalling his speculation regarding Ulrich’s true identity, he gulped and handed over the lighter.

  With the lighter in his hand, Ulrich turned around and began collecting sticks. He didn’t have candles, but the symbolism and meaning required it. Since the Night Mother is known for being benevolent, any light source should be fine, right?

  Once again, Ulrich prayed for his sins, afraid of being smitten by the Goddess.

  It didn’t take long before he gathered the sticks since he only needed three. After doing so, he walked up to Zheng San and ripped his shirt apart, unprovoked.

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  “W-What the hell are you doing?!”

  Ulrich smiled and nodded, “I thought you were getting hot, so I took it off for you.”

  “F—“

  Zheng San raised his finger, but held back the urge to curse.

  Meanwhile, Ulrich ignored Zheng San’s grievances and tied the clothes to the three sticks, then plunged them onto the ground, forming a triangle shape with himself at the center.

  Reaching this point, his face dimmed, realizing that he was missing the necessary materials to please the Goddess. However, in this wilderness, where would he find such a thing?

  Should he continue and take the risk of angering this Deity? Or… He paused and turned to look at Zheng San again.

  On his finger, there was a black colored ring. Coincidentally, the Night Mother symbolism included darkness, which is commonly associated with the color ‘black’. Seeing this, he grinned and began walking toward the bare-chested man.

  Zheng San noticed Ulrich’s strange gaze and backed away, a bit fearful as he murmured, “What… do you want—“

  “I think your finger is suffocating. Why don’t I take that off for you?”

  “Arhhh!”

  Yes or no, Ulrich didn’t wait and pounced on him like a hungry leopard, taking off the ring with unmatched skill.

  By this point, Zheng San had given up resisting anything that Ulrich tried to do. His eyes were lifeless, and his soul had left his body. Fortunately, he still had his pants, the last shred of dignity.

  Finally, Ulrich stood in the middle and placed the black ring on the ground. Doing so, he flicked his finger, igniting the lighter and diligently lit the ‘candles’. With that done, he got on his knees, closed his eyes, then whispered in hermes:

  “I, Ulrich Constantine, pray to the Great Mother.”

  The first part stated his ‘identity’, and the second is the supposed target.

  For the following line, he needed to add the description that matches this target, almost like ‘beaming’ a light in the endless sea of darkness. After all, in the world of mysticism, many entities might share the name “Great Mother”.

  “The Lady of Night. “

  “The dusk after dawn. “

  “The Perpetual Listener beyond the Stars.”

  With that said, Ulrich's voice dropped to the floor and spat one final line:

  “I, pray for the truths and secrets behind Belham, the city of Respite, the house of the Ministry, and the Sanctuary of the Keepers!”

  The final line represented his request.

  Only by stating his ‘wish’ can the ritual be considered ‘closed’. Or else, the Night Mother, should ‘she’ choose to, can remain with no way of evoking ‘her’ presence. Not that Ulrich would be able to resist if ‘she’ wished to.

  Immediately, the small fire was set ablaze. This sight was similar to that scene during his first awakening in the memorial hall.

  There’s a response… That means the Night Mother definitely exists!

  If ‘she’ exists, then how come he’d never heard of ‘her’ followers? Where is the Ministry? Did they cease to exist because there are no more supernatural threats?

  Uh. That’s the same as bankruptcy. As a Watchman, it’s depressing thinking about it!

  Just as that thought passed, the fire dissipated, snuffed away by an invisible hand. Seeing this, he narrowed his eyes.

  “Ah! Ghost! There’s a ghost behind you!”

  What ghost.

  Ulrich furrowed his brows and turned around, greeting a tall figure.

  It was a fair-skinned lady, draped in a black starry dress that was otherworldly. Looking at her, a strange feeling rose in his chest. Familiar? Inferior? Fear? Respect? Perhaps it was a mix of all these things.

  He couldn’t figure out why he felt that way, though it only intensified that feeling.

  Her eyes were cold, not the icy kind, but they were mechanical, akin to a wooden mannequin. In that moment, he’d noticed her eyes glancing at the ‘candles’ on the ground, then the black ring, and finally—him. Upon seeing him, her eyes glint ever so slightly.

  She knows me? No, that can’t be. She stands out too much, I would remember!

  There was silence between the two, as though they were each other.

  Looking at these two people, Zheng San held his breath, realizing that the sudden appearance of this fine woman was no ghost.

  It must be an arranged meeting! I can’t believe it. There are rumors that higher-ranking members possess supernatural abilities, but I always thought it was all quackery.

  Ulrich's strange ritual and the sudden appearance of this woman can only be explained if both possessed some kind of special ability. To think that he would personally meet not one, but two high-ranking members, it was unbelievable!

  Supernatural powers… I want it too!

  Just the thought of it filled him with ecstasy. This was every man’s dream; how could he not be excited?

  In that moment, Ulrich opened his mouth, though no words came. At the same time, the mysterious lady looked at the candles and asked.

  “Did you perform that ritual?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Regardless of her identity, her sudden appearance which correlates to the ritual he held was no mistake. For this reason, he maintained a respectful tone by addressing her formally.

  “Do you know…” She paused, as though to find an appropriate word, before tilting her head, “Our God?”

  Our God? The Goddess, Night Mother?

  “By God, do you mean the Night Mother?”

  He saw it, a reaction reflected in her eyes so subtle that he’d almost missed it.

  She is referring to the Night Mother… What is her status? A Keeper, just like Rosaline?

  At this moment, she nodded, her voice dropping to a whisper as she said. “My name is Felanor.”

  Then, pointed her index finger upward toward the moon, revealing the silky glove on her slender hand.

  “The Servant of Night.”