The Apostle of Greed looked at the man with an unreadable gaze.

With the blue moon behind him, he wore a genial smile and stared at Emil with bright blue eyes, as luminous as the moon itself.

Splat~!

Blood burst from Emil’s lips, trickling down her throat and pooling on the blade that had pierced through her body.

Soon, drops of crimson blood pattered onto the ground.

“Who… are you…?”

Sensing her impending death, Emil asked, her pale face now void of its former smile.

Yet, in stark contrast to Emil’s grave expression, the man’s smile remained unshaken.

“Does that matter right now?”

“Isn’t it obvious?”

As if unwilling to reveal her loss of composure, Emil’s voice remained calm, even as her face stiffened.

The man nonchalantly tossed back a question.

“Why?”

“Shouldn’t I at least know the name of the person who killed me?”

“Killed? Oh, no way~”

“Then… are you going to spare me at this point?”

“No, there’s no need for that. After all—”

Shluk!

“You’ll just come back to life, won’t you?”

At those words, Emil’s expression hardened even further.

She had somewhat expected it when he drove his blade into her back, but now, his words confirmed her suspicion.

He knew about her reincarnation magic—a secret known only to the Apostles.

Her mind whirred frantically, trying to piece everything together.

Who among the Apostles had leaked the secret of reincarnation magic?

And more importantly, just how much did this man know? How precise was his knowledge?

But her thoughts were cut short.

“Ack—! Haaah—!”

As if punishing her silence, the man drove his sword even deeper.

She coughed up another mouthful of blood.

Drip, drip~!

Crimson droplets splattered onto his pants like disordered raindrops.

Yet, the man’s face remained eerily serene.

“You don’t need to worry too much.”

“……”

“I don’t know where your next reincarnation will take place, after all.”

Emil clenched her teeth.

She didn’t believe him.

If he truly didn’t know, he wouldn’t be foolish enough to reassure her.

A flicker of unease crossed Emil’s face as she lifted her gaze to him with great effort.

The man was still smiling.

Even in this blood-soaked scene, he remained unchanged, standing against the backdrop of the blue moon with his ever-pleasant smile.

Then, as if extending a hand of salvation to a dying soul, he reached out.

“I came here to give you a warning.”

“… A… warning?”

He gently stroked her cheek.

“That’s right.”

“A warning about what?”

For a brief moment, his eyes flashed coldly.

“Do not touch Marquis Palatio.”

“… What?”

“I said it clearly.”

Shluk!

“Urgh—ugh!”

“Do not touch Marquis Palatio. Of course, I know he isn’t someone your people can take down easily.”

“……”

“But you see, people are strange creatures.”

Crunch~!

“They tend to worry.”

Eliban chuckled awkwardly, scratching his head, an expression completely unfitting for the situation.

Approaching the brink of death, Emil felt an inexplicable sense of dissonance.

A bizarre, unsettling familiarity.

As if she had seen this man somewhere before.

Somewhere profoundly uncomfortable.

“Anyway, that’s why I came to tell you. It may sound cold, but I honestly don’t care what you and your people do. You can pursue whatever goals you wish.”

Emil kept retracing her thoughts, trying to pinpoint the source of this unease.

Relentlessly.

As if she were being consumed by the thought.

“But you must never target Marquis Palatio. That man must never fall—at least, not now.”

Even as death loomed over her, the question echoed endlessly in her mind.

And then—

“Ah.”

“Remember my words, Apostle of Greed—no, Emil.”

She realized it.

The identity of the unsettling familiarity.

“If you don’t want your greed to lead you to eternal slumber, you’d better heed my warning.”

Where she had seen the eyes of the man who now held her weakness in his grasp.

“Never lay a hand on him.”

It was from deep beneath the roots—

Far below even themselves—

The Nebula.

Rumble…!

Emil’s thoughts could go no further.

The world went black.

The moment she realized the source of her unease, her head had already twisted around twice, her neck snapped, and her life extinguished.

And Eliban—

As if his smile had never existed, he erased it like a lie.

Without a word, he turned away and walked off.

***

A few days after leaving Lartania.

[Hmm, I’m exhausted.]

“Why? Did you tire yourself out from being so adorably insignificant?”

[Human, if you utter one more word, I swear I will tear you apart.]

“And how exactly do you plan to do that?”

[Grrrrr—! If only I could manifest physically, you—!]

“But you can’t, can you? What are you gonna do about it?”

[Kraaaaaaah!]

For days now, Evan had been relentlessly teasing Basiliora as if he had found the perfect excuse.

The phrase “adorably insignificant” had triggered an unexpected ripple effect.

Watching the two bicker, Alon quietly sighed to himself.

During their time in Lartania, things had happened in rapid succession, leaving little room for contemplation.

But now that he had time, there was too much to think about.

And foremost in his mind was the vision he had seen when he met Kylrus.

A world utterly destroyed—nothing left but desolation.

[What nonsense are you spouting, brat? This is your mental world.]

Recalling Kylrus’s words, Alon tilted his head in confusion.

From what he knew—and from what Kylrus had said—a mental world typically reflected one’s inner self.

Kylrus had also explained that a mental world always fell into one of two categories:

For mages, whose inner worlds were solidified through the reception of mental images and formulas.

Or for those without such training, where deeply ingrained memories shaped the landscape.

Alon, of course, could wield Runes, but he had never received an imprint nor possessed any kind of magical formula.

That left only one possibility.

A deeply ingrained memory.

That would mean the devastated world had emerged from his own memories.

But Alon couldn’t comprehend this.

He had lived in this world for over a decade.

He had, for all intents and purposes, become a part of it.

Yet, technically speaking, he was not originally from this world.

He had no memory of ever seeing such a ruined world.

Could it be a memory from the original Alon Palatio?

That, too, seemed virtually impossible.

After all, when he became Alon, the body was still young—not even past his coming-of-age.

And such a catastrophic sight was not something a noble youth would have ever witnessed.

Which meant—

The memory of that ruined world didn’t belong to the original Alon either.

‘Then that leaves only one possibility… I simply don’t remember it.’

A forgotten memory.

Alon unconsciously stroked his chin.

Had he ever visited a place that resembled that world?

No matter how much he thought about it, there was no such place.

The closest he could imagine was the North.

But even that didn’t fit.

A lifeless wasteland and a world where life had been wiped out were fundamentally different.

After pondering for a while, he absentmindedly toyed with ‘Footsteps of the Past’ inside his coat.

‘By the time we reach Colony, I should be able to enter again. I’ll ask more questions then.’

After organizing his thoughts, Alon reached out and stroked Blackie, the little creature that had wriggled out of his chest pocket and was now purring against his hand.

It was the height of summer.

***

About a month later—

Teyra arrived at the royal castle under orders from Carmaxes III.

And soon, he heard the name of the person suspected to be a Sage God.

“Marquis Palatio, is it?”

“Yes. When he arrives, confirm it for me.”

“Understood.”

Though he responded obediently, his mind was full of questions.

Frankly, Teyra had no idea why Carmaxes III suspected Marquis Palatio of being a Sage God.

‘Well… His achievements are remarkable, but…’

Even as an archaeologist, Teyra knew about the Marquis.

He had dealt with Outer Gods and monsters alike, piling up achievements far beyond what was expected of a noble.

His name was famous across the entire continent.

But even considering all that, Teyra thought the king’s suspicion was misplaced.

Of course, Carmaxes III must have had reasons unknown to him.

Even so, Teyra was certain.

He had already seen a Sage God before.

And Sage Gods were impossible to miss.

Not only that—

If Marquis Palatio were truly a Sage God, he had no reason to hide it.

‘Well… I suppose there could be a reason to conceal his identity, but—’

Even if that were the case, disguising himself as a noble made no sense.

…Though, to be honest, he didn’t fully understand why a Sage God would even bother with disguises.

At that moment—

The doors to the audience chamber opened.

A man stepped in.

Draped in a dark coat, he showed no change in expression even before the king.

‘So that’s Marquis Palatio.’

Teyra was momentarily awestruck.

He had seen the man from a distance before, but meeting him up close—

There was something strangely compelling about him.

Something difficult to describe.

A presence unlike anything he had ever encountered.

He stared at the Marquis in a daze—until—

“How have you been, Marquis Palatio?”

“I have been well.”

Carmaxes III’s voice snapped him back to reality.

He had to act now—discreetly, just as ordered.

As the two men exchanged pleasantries, Teyra quietly gathered his mana and channeled it into the artifact hidden in his coat.

A blue orb-like artifact he had acquired from an ancient jungle ruin ten years ago.

Its function was simple.

It manifested the target’s power as a visible image.

In the past, he had used it on a Sage God in the Lizardman territory—

And had seen how divine power materialized.

‘If Marquis Palatio really is a god, then a chained sphere should appear in front of him. If not, it’ll just be a plain sphere.’

He didn’t know why it manifested that way, but every Sage God he had encountered had exhibited the same result.

As the artifact activated, Teyra turned his gaze toward the Marquis without much expectation—

And then, his eyes widened.

‘This… this is… impossible…!’

Because, just like before, an orb had appeared in front of the Marquis.

A sphere wrapped in chains.

Teyra’s reaction wasn’t just wide eyes.

Despite Carmaxes III’s orders to remain discreet, his jaw dropped open involuntarily.

And for good reason—

Before Marquis Palatio—

There weren’t just one, but four orbs.

A Sage God had only ever possessed a single one.

Yet now, in front of him—

There were four.