When the black hands of the clock tower aligned once more, a deep, resonant bell tolled through the night. As the low chime faded, an unspoken silence descended over the entire Twilight Forest. Both the towns and the castle slipped into slumber, wrapped in the quiet of the hour.
The time had come.
The grand stone hall had vanished without a trace, replaced by a pitch-black cave mouth. Blake glanced over his shoulder at Ophelia, who stood beside him clutching her shawl, a faint look of unease in her eyes. He offered her a reassuring smile, then stepped resolutely into the cave.
A bone-chilling cold seeped into their bones.
Ophelia clutched her chest, her face turning ashen white—not from any physical ailment, but from the sheer malice and killing intent that emanated from the cave. As a fully formed soul, she could sense the lingering evil the moment the cave entrance opened before them. Though the source of that murderous aura had long since perished, its residual power alone was enough to take her breath away. When she took her first step down the stone stairs, a bloodcurdling scream—filled with rage, death, and bitter resentment—pierced her ears, a shriek so profound it seemed to tear at her very soul. The world spun before her eyes, and she nearly collapsed to the ground.
Warm hands steadied her from behind.
"Please be careful, Lady Ophelia."
Judy and Charlotte flanked her, supporting her trembling form and helping her regain her balance. Ophelia took a ragged breath, gritting her teeth to drive the insidious malice from her being. She shot a grateful glance at the two girls beside her, then followed Blake's figure deeper into the cave.
Bright, pale soul fire flared to life, casting a ghostly white glow over the underground passage. The farther Ophelia ventured, the more astounded she became. By the light of the soul fire, she could clearly see sacred patterns carved into the cave walls—symbols she recognized instantly as the insignia of the Holy Mana Church from the chaotic era. But why would they adorn the walls of this cold, menacing tunnel beneath Twilight Castle?
"This place was once the main sanctuary of the Holy Mana Church," Judy explained, sensing Ophelia's unspoken question.
"And the chamber we seek lies at its very heart."
"The Holy Mana Church?"
Ophelia turned to her in confusion, her brow furrowed. She could not fathom how a castle in the Twilight Forest could be linked to the Church. In all her years in the Kingdom of Wester, she had never heard a single whisper of such a connection. If a sacred Church sanctuary truly lay beneath Twilight Castle, surely the Church would have some record of it?
"It was utterly destroyed in the chaos of the ancient wars," Charlotte said, reading the princess's thoughts.
"In truth, I doubt the Holy Mana Church of today keeps any records of this place… after all, it is not a legacy they would care to boast about. I think you have already felt it, Lady Ophelia—the air here reeks of killing intent and death. These are the foul, ugly remains left behind by those who called themselves the children of the Holy Mana. Hundreds of innocent lives were snuffed out here, lost in agony and despair… and we were among them."
Charlotte's voice softened as she spoke the final words. Her tone remained calm, but the centuries-old hatred, darkness, and loathing that lurked beneath it sent a chill down Ophelia's spine. It was as if the gentle, smiling maid who always greeted her with kindness had vanished, replaced by a ravenous, mindless monster poised to strike.
"You're frightening her," Blake's voice drifted lazily from ahead.
At his words, the invisible, menacing aura surrounding Charlotte dissipated instantly. She lowered her head slightly, stepping back a pace. Ophelia felt the grip of fear loosen its hold, allowing her to draw a steady breath at last. Though a thousand more questions swirled in her mind, she knew this was not the time to ask them—not with Judy and Charlotte standing by, and Blake's back turned to her ahead. She suppressed her curiosity and pressed onward.
Soon, the group emerged from the narrow passage into a vast, cavernous space. Judging by the towering stone pillars that lined the area—now shattered and toppled—this had once been a sacred, majestic hall. Even in its current state of ruin, the air still hummed with a faint sense of grandeur. But that majesty was tainted by the thick, oppressive miasma of death and resentment that hung over the chamber, lending it an air of eerie mystery.
Ophelia had no way of knowing that this very chamber was where the once-pitiful heir of the Felix family had lost both his body and soul, reborn as a new man. She merely gazed around cautiously, her eyes curious, searching for clues amid the wreckage.
Blake came to a halt at the center of the chamber, before a massive, jet-black stone stele.
He studied the stele carefully. Unlike the crumbling pillars around it, this monolith was towering, its top stretching all the way to the cavern ceiling—and from the looks of it, it might even extend beyond the surface, forming part of the foundation of Twilight Castle itself. It was a testament to the sanctuary's former grandeur, though now only evil, darkness, death, and ruin remained. In truth, if Charlotte had not mentioned it, Blake would never have guessed that such a device lay hidden beneath the castle.
"Charlotte—this is it?" he asked.
"Yes, my lord," Charlotte replied, stepping forward and bowing to him. She knew this stele better than anyone. When she had still been human, upon arriving at the sanctuary, her scholarly curiosity had led her to investigate the monolith. But as a mere alchemist in the heart of a Holy Mana Church stronghold, she had been unable to delve too deeply into its secrets. When the brutal slaughter began shortly after, she had deduced that this was the core of the barrier that trapped them all—but in the chaos of fighting for survival, she had never been able to reach this chamber. After her death, her soul, wracked by pain and despair, had recoiled from this place in abject loathing, refusing to set foot here ever again. If Blake had not needed her assistance today, she would never have returned.
Charlotte lifted her gaze to the black stele, her jaw tightening, her fists clenched at her sides. Memories of old pain and sorrow came flooding back. Though her expression remained composed, Blake, Ophelia, and Judy could all see the faint tremor in her frame. It was clear that the calm she projected was merely a facade.
Judy watched her with a sigh, lowering her eyes. She too had survived the bloodbath, but as her clan's greatest warrior, she had long been inured to betrayal and the ever-present threat of death. Charlotte was different, however. In life, she had been nothing more than a "researcher" who worked behind the scenes, managing supplies and equipment, never once stepping foot on a battlefield. Though her alchemical skills had made her a formidable fighter, her heart had remained that of an ordinary young girl—untempered by the horrors of war, unlike warriors like Judy who had emerged from the carnage of a thousand battles. Judy understood all too well that a part of Charlotte had been broken beyond repair in that slaughter. Even seasoned soldiers had teetered on the brink of madness in the face of such brutality; how could a girl who had never known the stench of blood and death hope to bear it? What had kept her fighting until the very end? But Judy also knew that asking such questions now was pointless. For all of them, those memories were a nightmare they never wished to relive.
Eventually, Charlotte forced herself to calm down. She stepped forward and began to examine the stele with painstaking care. She had told Blake before that the stele was a small-scale Wellspring energy conversion device—but not the crude extraction tools used by the nations of the present day. In the chaotic era, humanity had not only been able to harness the Wellspring's power but also to move and divide it. The archbishop had once used a small, fragmented piece of a Wellspring to power this very device. Though most of that ancient technology had been lost to centuries of war, some relics had survived. It was Charlotte who had told Blake how to split and extract a Wellspring's power, setting him on his path to retrieve it.
Blake's decision had been a wise one. He had known that word of the new Wellspring outside the Twilight Forest would eventually reach the ears of the Mage's Guild and the Holy Mana Church. If he had delayed, the Church would have seized the opportunity to claim it for themselves—and indeed, if he had arrived even a moment later, the Wellspring would have fallen into their hands.
As for repairing the conversion device, Blake had never worried about it. Charlotte might not have the skill to build such a device from scratch, but she was more than capable of restoring one that already existed—provided it was not completely destroyed.
However, what they discovered next was far beyond anyone's expectations.
Charlotte's inspection of the stele dragged on far longer than anticipated. She stared at the monolith intently, as if trying to unravel some profound secret hidden within its depths. Two full hours passed, and still, she did not finish. The others began to grow restless. They had come here seeking clear answers, but Charlotte's demeanor suggested that the situation was far more complex than any of them had imagined.
"Charlotte?" Blake finally spoke up, his brow furrowed with concern.
"I… apologize, my lord," Charlotte replied, her voice surprisingly hesitant—far from the confident tone she usually carried.
"This device… it is not what I expected it to be."
"What's wrong?" Judy asked, leaning forward in curiosity. Charlotte was the most knowledgeable among the spectral warriors; she could distinguish between hundreds of different ores at a glance and was well-versed in all manner of magical weapons and armor. For her to be stumped by a simple stone stele was unheard of.
Ophelia, however, remained unperturbed by the turn of events. She knew nothing of Charlotte's true origins or her abilities, and to her, anything related to the Holy Mana Church was inherently strange and mysterious. A lengthy inspection seemed only natural. The princess kept her peace, watching quietly from the sidelines.
"It's like this," Charlotte began, turning away from the stele to face the group, her expression grave.
"I originally believed this to be a Holy Mana Church Wellspring energy conversion device—one that would supply power to the land once fed with sufficient energy. But during my inspection, I discovered several anomalies. First, the stele is crafted from a material we have never seen before—a substance that has withstood the test of a thousand years, remaining completely intact. And second…"
Charlotte hesitated, as if she could barely believe her own conclusion.
"I found that the technology used in this energy conversion device is unlike anything from any era we know."
"But this is the Holy Mana Church's conversion device, isn't it?" Judy pressed, confused. "If it wasn't, how could that old bastard have used it to trap us all those years ago?"
Charlotte shook her head firmly.
"I helped the Alchemists' Guild build conversion devices for the Holy Mana Church once. While this stele bears a superficial resemblance to those devices, its method of harnessing the Wellspring's power is entirely different. I suspect that the old archbishop was only able to activate it because he used a fragmented piece of a Wellspring—not enough power to awaken the device's true potential. But now…"
Charlotte's gaze drifted back to Blake, her eyes filled with unmistakable trepidation.
"My lord, the power you possess is that of a complete Wellspring. To be perfectly honest, I lack the ability to fully understand this device. I cannot say what will happen if we activate it in its entirety. But if I may speak frankly… I implore you to hold off on activating it for now. Every Wellspring device operates on different principles. The risks are far too great—we have no way of predicting the consequences."
Charlotte's tone was deadly serious, and it was not hard to see why. If this had been any other Wellspring device, the maid would have been the first to urge Blake to experiment with it. But this device was the very same one that had trapped them in the sanctuary all those years ago. Though they knew not what other abilities it might possess, they were all too aware of its power to erect impenetrable barriers, sealing its victims inside with no hope of escape. That traumatic memory alone was enough to fill the spectral warriors with a deep-seated aversion to the stele.
Blake frowned, mulling over her words for a moment. Then, a faint smile tugged at the corners of his lips.
"You're certain this isn't a product of the Holy Mana Church?"
"Absolutely not, my lord," Charlotte replied without hesitation. "The fundamental theory behind this device bears no resemblance to the Wellspring technology we used in the chaotic era, nor is it a development or evolution of later designs. From what I can tell, it must be a relic from an age far more ancient than any we know."
"In that case, I doubt the ancients who created it intended for it to fall into the hands of those sanctimonious charlatans."
As he spoke, Blake reached into his robe. When he pulled his hand free, a small sphere glowing with bright, soft light rested in his palm.
The Wellspring.
At its core, the Wellspring gushed forth with an endless supply of Mana—the very lifeblood that fueled human progress. It could trigger mutations in wild beasts, and it held great benefits for humanity as well. In areas permeated by Wellspring energy, worthless stones would gradually transform into precious ores and gems, the soil would grow incredibly fertile, and crops would flourish abundantly. The Wellspring's power could even purify polluted water sources, restoring them to crystal clarity.
Thanks to these extraordinary properties, coupled with its limitless Mana that could power magical devices, the Wellspring was the most coveted treasure in the world for every faction. To control a Wellspring was to possess a land of endless resources—rich in ores, pure water, and fertile soil that would never run dry.
To put it simply, the Wellspring was like a specially designed faucet, and Mana was the water flowing through the pipes. Only with that unique faucet could the water be drawn forth.
The moment Blake released the Wellspring, the black stele, which had lain dormant for centuries, suddenly began to glow with a faint, hazy light. The sphere floating in Blake's palm seemed to sense the stele's awakening, drifting slowly toward the monolith of its own accord. Charlotte, Judy, and Ophelia watched the silvery-white sphere with bated breath, their hearts pounding in their chests.
Finally, the sphere reached the top of the black stele—and in the blink of an eye, it sank into the stone, vanishing from sight. As the Wellspring merged with the stele, the monolith erupted in a blinding burst of light, illuminating the entire cavern. The ground trembled beneath their feet, and the three of them raised their hands to shield their eyes from the glare.
The flash came and went in an instant. The light faded as quickly as it had appeared, plunging the chamber back into darkness. But when the group lowered their hands and looked at the stele once more, they could only stare in stunned silence.
The surface of the black stele was now covered in beautiful, flowing patterns, each one glowing faintly with a mysterious, powerful energy. The oppressive aura of death, destruction, and sorrow that had clung to the chamber for centuries was gone, swept away as if by a gentle breeze.
And most astonishing of all—floating in the air before the stele was a tiny figure, no larger than a human hand, bathed in soft white light. Intricate, otherworldly runes swirled around it, forming glowing rings that encircled its form. Then, a clear, melodious voice—strange yet warm—rang out in the minds of all who stood there.
*"The Starlight has been reactivated. Wellspring energy conversion initiated… Greetings, my master. Welcome to the Möbius Loop."*