Well, Aren't You a Sneaky One

Six of Cups instinctively tilted its head, its tone full of pure confusion:

"Old Six? What does that mean?"

Isolde kept a straight face, her eyes radiating noble sincerity.

"Where I come from, it's the highest form of praise for an assassin. It means your movements are hidden, your strikes decisive, and you excel at delivering fatal blows from blind spots no one expects."

"I see..."

Perhaps the "high praise" and "professionalism" wrapped into those words sounded too serious. It actually accepted them thoughtfully.

Watching it nod and reflect with such solemn seriousness, Isolde viciously pinched herself in her mind to keep from laughing aloud in the midst of such a grim killing game.

[Moon-Crown Lock recognition in progress...]

[Sacrifice confirmed.]

[Sin confirmed.]

Suddenly, a scarlet, blood-red brand appeared in Six of Cups's palm without warning, forcibly interrupting their conversation.

Whoosh—!

An utterly terrifying force of devouring suction swept out from the depths of the Moon-Crown Lock, transforming into countless ghastly white chains that coiled tightly around Six of Cups's body.

Even the shadow beneath its feet, which had always been so docile, began to twitch and distort in agony.

Isolde watched the sudden change before her coldly, without the slightest surprise on her face.

Six of Cups's shadow was pulled and twisted without end. It clutched the brand scorching its soul, and the voice beneath its mask finally carried furious shock:

"Didn't you say... the rules would become chaotic? You deceived me?!"

As Isolde gathered Soul Threads, she said, "That only proves my soul-stitching technique is excellent, doesn't it?"

[Truth Mastery] condensed into a short blade at her fingertips. Isolde gripped it and brutally stabbed it into Six of Cups's palm, using magic to absorb magic and forcibly drawing the invading brand into the soul blade.

"Mmgh...!"

Six of Cups groaned in pain and instinctively tried to pull its wrist back, only for the following Soul-Binding Thread to wrap tightly around it, leaving it unable to move.

"...What are you trying to do?!"

"Shut up and endure it!"

Isolde shouted sharply. With her other hand, she used a Soul Thread to retrieve the [Unicorn Grease] she had looted from the Lamp Room earlier.

She scattered the white grease over the Moon-Crown Lock in midair, coating its surface and temporarily suppressing the suction.

Meanwhile, the lingering soul pierced by the shadow blade was trying to twist free and escape amid the chaos.

It had only moved half an inch before Isolde flicked a Soul Thread around it, binding it firmly.

She stepped forward, seized the wailing lingering soul, used it as a shield, and rammed it viciously toward the center of the Moon-Crown Lock.

She pinned the lingering soul's head down. A detached cruelty surfaced on her delicate, harmless-looking face.

"Doesn't your Holy Court love telling people to learn forgiveness?"

Staring at the lock core billowing black smoke, she said coldly, "Then try forgiving me now."

[Abnormality detected in target of judgment.]

[Abnormality detected in sacrificed target.]

[Judgment confused.]

[Revalidating rules...]

"Too late!"

Isolde gave it no chance to correct the error.

She turned and crushed the soul blade, completely stripping the brand from Six of Cups's palm before the rules could complete their judgment cycle.

At the same time, the disguised lingering soul she had pushed to the front was completely devoured by the Moon-Crown Lock's rampaging punishment mechanism.

Isolde abruptly released Six of Cups's wrist.

It staggered half a step back and lowered its head to look at its uninjured palm. The voice beneath its mask could no longer suppress its anger as it demanded:

"This was part of your plan too?!"

"Special circumstances call for special measures."

Isolde casually withdrew her Soul Threads and unhurriedly tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, her tone airy.

"The fact that I didn't casually shove you into the keyhole already proves I have excellent character."

Six of Cups glared at her. "Then your character really is despicable."

"Thank you for the compliment."

At the very instant the illusion shattered completely, a shrill scream from the lingering soul being dragged deep into the keyhole faintly echoed from afar, only to be swiftly torn apart by the turbulence.

When she opened her eyes again, Isolde was standing once more in the real Stillbone Prayer Room.

The ever-burning Holy Lamps had all gone out, and the surrounding walls formed oppressive outlines in the darkness.

A crisp crack rang out. The protective seal surrounding the Moon-Crown Lock split open, followed by the successive collapse of two more seals.

Isolde's fingers twitched slightly.

At almost the same time, Six of Cups beside her raised its head as well.

The next second, Soul Threads and black shadows erupted simultaneously, shooting for the Moon-Crown Lock.

The holy artifact was within reach.

One inch. Just one more inch forward.

Boom—!

A terrifying weight descended from above without warning.

Isolde's knees buckled, and her Soul Threads were crushed apart in midair.

Six of Cups's black shadow was likewise nailed to the ground, its edges emitting a piercing hiss as though being seared by a branding iron beneath an invisible force.

Isolde immediately realized something was wrong.

That oppressive sense of absolute control... was the domain pressure of a high-ranking holy official.

"Defiled one, you dare set foot upon holy ground."

A grand, cold voice seemed to come from every direction at once.

Isolde struggled to raise her head.

Above the dome of the Stillbone Prayer Room, enormous golden magic circles unfolded layer upon layer, their brilliant radiance painful to behold.

A figure wreathed in holy light slowly descended through the air.

He was a tall man dressed in a silver holy robe, holding a staff made from pure white bone, his silver hair neatly tied behind his head.

At first glance, his features held the gentleness and compassion of a holy official. Yet deep within his pupils lay the stillness of a cold, dead pool.

Judging from this absurdly lavish entrance, this was probably the boss of Grey Dove Monastery—the Silver Robe Inquisitor.

The Silver Robe lowered his gaze slightly, looking down at the two of them.

His gaze passed over the shattered formation patterns before settling unhurriedly on the Moon-Crown Lock floating in the air.

That indifference, like a god looking down upon ants, chilled the marrow more than naked fury ever could.

"Defiled ones, attempting to steal a holy artifact." He raised his staff, his voice majestic. "By the decrees of the Holy Court, you shall be judged and purified."

Six of Cups had clearly not expected to alert this Silver Robe.

The appearance of this towering figure had sent the difficulty of its mission skyrocketing.

It looked unwillingly at the Moon-Crown Lock once more.

The next instant, the black shadow beneath its feet exploded, burrowing into the cracks between the surrounding stones and vanishing in the blink of an eye.

Isolde:?

Isolde stared at the empty spot not far away, blinked, then roared inwardly:

Well, aren't you a sneaky one!

When it came time to fight the boss, you just slipped away first?!

You didn't even dare leave behind some parting words?

Though furious inside, Isolde quickly calmed down.

Still, it was good that it had run.

One less opponent fighting over the Moon-Crown Lock.

One less shadow to guard against.

After all, they had never been true allies.

The Silver Robe did not move to pursue the fleeing assassin. In his eyes, it was no more than an insignificant sewer rat.

He slowly turned his staff and directed those pale silver eyes toward Isolde, who remained where she was.

His pale silver gaze first swept over the fugitive mage disguise she wore, then paused on her palm. His deep voice echoed through the entire room.

"Interesting."

"A soul as complicated and defiled as yours actually hides a thread of unawakened holiness within it."