The wooden planks of the pier gave way to sharp, slippery black gravel as the small skiff carrying Elian and Lunaria touched the shores of Silent Bay. The sound of crashing waves behind them seemed muted, as if the land itself possessed an invisible membrane dampening all noise.
Elian stepped off the skiff. The moment his feet touched solid ground, he staggered.
For two weeks at sea, his body had learned to move with the unstable rhythm of a ship. Now, on land that didn't move a millimeter, the gravity from the Ring of Weight hit him differently. It no longer pulled him sideways or forward with the sway of the waves; it pulled him straight down, as if trying to nail his feet into the Celestian earth.
"Ugh..." Elian fell to one knee, his hand bracing against a cold rock.
His breath was labored. The air here was thin and dry, typical of a highland surrounded by mountains. Every breath felt like inhaling ice shards that scratched his lungs.
"Don't force it. Let your center of gravity settle," Lunaria's voice came from above. The Elf Queen landed gracefully and soundlessly, her grey cloak blending into the gloomy coastal fog.
Elian closed his eyes, focusing on his spine. He felt every vertebra creak, compressing under the pressure of twice his own body weight. His black hair, now reaching his mid-back, whipped in the wind, strands covering his pale, refined face. With slow but steady movements, Elian brushed his hair back and tied it tighter with a leather cord.
His androgenous face, under the dim coastal light, looked like the statue of a forgotten god—beautiful, cold, and untouchable. Yet, his black eyes remained alert, scanning the darkness beyond the fog.
"I... am ready," Elian whispered. He stood tall, though the tremors in his legs hadn't fully subsided.
"We are under the shadow of the Silent Valley," Lunaria pointed toward a massive gap between two rocky mountains. "Barossa was right. This place is an acoustic anomaly. The rock formations in this valley contain Silence-Ore crystals that absorb sound vibrations. That's why the guards here don't patrol much. If you make even the slightest noise, the vibration will be 'felt' by magical sensors in the convent due to the extreme contrast."
Elian nodded. He drew one of his black Twin Karambits. The blade, sharpened with the Basalt-Mana stone, reflected a faint speck of purple light.
"We take the rat path," Elian said, referring to Barossa's smuggler map.
They began to move away from the beach, climbing the steep rocky slopes toward the valley entrance.
Every movement Elian made was now mathematically calculated. He couldn't jump nimbly, so he moved by crawling and pulling his body weight using arm strength. The muscles beneath his black knight attire tensed, fibers growing denser each time he forced himself against the ring's burden.
After an hour of climbing, they arrived at a narrow natural tunnel—the path used by smugglers to bypass the main guard post at the valley's mouth.
"Stop," Elian whispered suddenly.
He froze, one foot still hanging in the air. His Nature Sense caught something.
Not a sound, for the valley was indeed silent. But he felt a "void" in the air ahead. A disrupted mana flow shaping the silhouette of a human standing still.
"Guard?" Lunaria asked via mana transmission directly to Elian's mind.
"One. Around the rock bend," Elian answered with hand signals.
Elian crept forward. He no longer used normal footsteps. He moved like a reptile, pressing his body against the cold cave wall. The ring on his finger felt icy, responding to the holy energy starting to thicken in this area.
When he reached the corner, Elian saw his target.
A low-level Templar Knight (Tier 2). The man wore polished silver armor with a sun cross symbol on his chest. He held a long spear, but his eyes looked drowsy, bored with guard duty in a place deemed impenetrable.
Elian stared at the man unblinkingly.
No hesitation. No pity. In Elian's eyes, the man was merely an obstacle between him and Elara. The memory of Silas saying Elara would be sacrificed burned in his chest again with cold fury.
Die.
Elian utilized a small tremor from the blowing valley wind. As the wind's sound slightly blurred the silence, Elian lunged.
His speed wasn't extraordinary, but his momentum was massive. Because his body mass was "compressed" by the ring, every step carried massive kinetic force.
The Templar flinched, trying to raise his spear, but his movement seemed slow in Elian's eyes.
Elian slid under the spear's reach, the Karambit in his right hand snatching the knight's ankle to knock him down, while the Karambit in his left hand—the hand wearing the ring—slammed into the Templar's chest plate.
CRUNCH!
Elian's left-hand strike, carrying double weight, caved in the silver plate armor. Air was forced out of the knight's lungs.
Before the man could scream, Elian had jumped onto his back, one hand covering his mouth, the other slicing the neck through the helmet gap with the precision of a butcher.
Warm blood sprayed, soaking Elian's hand.
The knight convulsed for a moment, then went limp. Elian held the heavy armored body to prevent it from crashing onto the stone floor, lowering it slowly until it was completely silent.
Silence returned to the tunnel.
Elian stood over the corpse, breathing slightly heavily. He looked at his bloody hand, then calmly wiped it on the knight's cloak.
"Good efficiency," Lunaria appeared beside him. "But you used too much force in your left hand. You'll tire quickly if you keep using the ring's 'weight' as a hammer."
"It was... the fastest way to crush their armor," Elian replied flatly. He took a small key from the knight's belt—the key to the convent's side gate.
They continued through the narrowing tunnel until finally emerging onto a natural stone balcony overlooking the Convent of Saint Marigold.
The view was breathtaking yet terrifying.
The convent looked like a glowing white castle amidst the valley's darkness. Thousands of magic candles illuminated its walls. However, at its peak, Elian saw a giant crystal sphere emitting an unnatural reddish-purple light—The Heart of Marigold.
The energy radiating from the sphere felt familiar to Elian. It was Elara's energy. He could feel it through the blood bond that hadn't been fully severed.
"They're doing it," Elian whispered, his voice trembling with suppressed rage. "They're draining her right now."
Lunaria stared at the crystal ball, her violet eyes flashing with disgust. "The Harmonization Ritual is in its final stage. We don't have much time. If that ball turns completely white, it means Elara's soul is empty."
Elian squeezed his Karambit hilt until his knuckles turned white.
"Master, I won't enter as a pilgrim," Elian said suddenly. He took the silver Pilgrim's Badge from his pocket and threw it into the abyss below the balcony.
"What are you doing?" Lunaria was surprised.
"Pilgrims will only get me stuck in their bureaucracy. I will enter as a disaster," Elian looked at Lunaria with black eyes that no longer held any trace of childish innocence. "You said this place absorbs sound, right? Then they won't hear when I come to take their bishop's head."
Lunaria was silent for a moment, then she smiled thinly—a dangerous smile.
"Very well. If you want to be a disaster, be the most terrifying one. I will handle the archers on the towers and disable their magic alarm system from the outside. You... go to the center of the convent. Find the room with the highest concentration of light."
Elian nodded.
He began descending the balcony cliff toward the convent wall. His movements were bolder now. He no longer cared for perfect stealth.
Every time his hand gripped a rock crevice, he channeled a bit of the mana he absorbed from the silent valley environment into his muscles. His body felt like a machine forced to work beyond its limits, forging itself in every second of suffering.
When he reached the base of the convent wall, Elian saw two more Templar guards stationed at the side gate.
This time, Elian didn't crawl.
He walked upright in the darkness, his black cloak fluttering, his tied long hair swaying with his heavy footsteps that thudded low on the ground.
"Who goes there?!" one guard shouted, aiming his magic lantern.
Lantern light fell on Elian's face.
The guard was stunned for a moment. He saw a beautiful "girl" with an angelic face walking toward them. However, when he saw the child's black eyes and the drying blood on his arms, pure fear choked his throat.
"I am the ghost you created," Elian said.
Before the guard could blow his alarm whistle, Elian had dashed forward.
He used the weight of the Ring of Weight on his finger as a center of rotation. He spun his body like a top of death, his Karambits forming a silver circle that sliced through the silent air.
SLASH!
One movement. Two lives gone.
Elian stood in front of the massive convent gate. Enemy blood dripped from the tip of his Karambit onto the sun cross carved on the floor, staining the sanctity of the place with the reality of death.
He pushed the door open.
"Elara... Brother is coming," he whispered into the cold silence of the convent.
Inside the Convent of Saint Marigold, the ritual was suddenly interrupted by a strange vibration traveling through the pure stone floor. Archbishop Benedict looked up from his prayer, his eyes narrowing toward the entrance of the West Sector.
He felt something foreign approaching. Something heavy, full of hatred, and unstoppable by any prayer.
The war on the continent of Celestia had just been started by a boy the world thought was dead.