Chapter 186: Exploration

Ishiki wanted to say a lot at this point… and that was because he knew more than anyone else in this room.

He had taken the risk of exploring the cathedral and found many parts on information that was not yet known to other players. It was also because of his unique skill that allowed him to make certain deductions.

What Yuki said was true… their level was caped at 50 and they would never be able to increase it beyond that until they increased their synth reactor tier. And that would only be possible if they entered another trial.

For all that to happen there was a starting point and that was the completion of this Scenario.

’The system really does have its way in making things hard and connected. Without taking the first step you can never take the second.’

“A totally agree with Yuki… we would never be able to defeat him if we wait. We have to do something quick.” he started, making his voice a little hoarse. “I know for a fact that the orb at the dragon’s head is his source of power and its weakness.”

“If only we can only find a way.”

“That’s a lot of ’ifs,’” Jeanne interrupted, her energetic demeanor not masking the sharp intelligence behind her eyes. “And you’re assuming that aren’t you? What if that isn’t the case. I heard that the orb is just a necessary item one needs to become the Emperor. What if we somehow destroy that thing and still nothing happens and on the other hand it worsens our chances, if there would be no emperor whom would we kill?”

“Then we’re already dead and simply haven’t realized it yet,” Filch said.

Ishiki spoke for the first time since confirming the wooden puppets. “The dragon can be killed. Everything can.”

All eyes turned to him.

“How?” Santiago demanded.

“With preparation. With the right vestiges and understanding his weaknesses.” Ishiki’s voice remained level, betraying none of the uncertainty churning beneath his words. “He was once defeated long ago and sealed. That is because they understood him… I assume there would be something related to him. Somewhere.”

“How can you be so sure?” Jeanne asked looking at him curiously.

Ishiki sighed and then spoke. “You know I was in the cathedral on the day when the dragon was released.”

Everyone’s eyes widened… even Yuki’s. Except for Filch who already knew of this.

“There I found entries written by the High Priest of that cathedral. And I learned quite some stuff from it.” He confirmed. “So I am believing that there must be similar records in the Inner ring. Even more close to truth maybe.”

After he completed… Filch rose a question. “How do you plan to read them? They are all written in different language?”

“Heh… there’s Nina. She can translate it for me.” Ishiki shrugged as he said that.

Filch was silent for a long time and then finally said just a word. “I hoped to keep her out of danger but I think she can play her part as well.”

They discussed for another twenty minutes—which Players in the Inner Ring might be susceptible to recruitment, how to approach them without raising suspicion, fallback plans if operations were discovered. Ishiki listened with half his attention, the other half already moving forward to the Cathedral ruins and whatever secrets lay buried beneath golden walls.

Finally, Filch extinguished the lamp.

Darkness flooded the chamber. Then, one by one, they ascended the stairs and dispersed into the Secondary Ring’s ruins.

Jeanne left first. Santiago followed shortly after. Yuki departed with a final glance at Ishiki that communicated concern she refused to voice aloud.

Filch and Ishiki left together, emerging from the food store into the Crimson Moon’s perpetual judgment.

“What you gonna do?” Filch asked as they reached a crossroads.

“Hmm let’s see. I am going to the Cathedral.” Ishiki admitted.

Filch studied him for a moment, then nodded once. “Don’t die stupidly.”

“I’ll do my best.”

They parted without further words. Ishiki turning toward the Obsidian gates and the pristine Inner Ring beyond.

The Crimson Moon watched his progress with indifferent malice, painting his shadow long and dark across the streets.

The transition from Crimson to Silver came without warning.

One moment the moon hung above Aethelburg like burning wound in reality, bleeding red light across broken streets. The next, it had transformed—silver and cold, surgical in how it dissected the world into component shadows.

Ishiki paused at the Obsidian gates, feeling the change in his bones. The Silver Moon possessed different qualities than its crimson counterpart. Where the Crimson Moon painted everything in shades of blood and violence, the Silver Moon rendered all in the palette of a morgue.

He passed through the gates unchallenged. The guards—those Players who’d accepted roles as enforcers were stationed at the Castle, not these inner checkpoints. Aethelburg’s new Emperor apparently felt secure enough to allow free movement between rings.

’Arrogance’, Ishiki thought. ’Or confidence so absolute it becomes indistinguishable from arrogance.’

The Inner Ring sprawled before him in pristine perfection. Golden cobblestone streets that caught moonlight and reflected it back with faint luminescence. Fountains that had run dry but retained their architectural beauty. Gardens that had withered into mockeries of life but still suggested what they’d once been.

And always ahead, impossibly tall even from this distance, rose the statue.

The Angel.

It dominated the Inner Ring’s skyline—a figure perhaps three hundred and fifty meters in height. Its wings were spread wide as if frozen mid-flight. Both arms raised skyward, It had once contained the heart and the sun.

A heart that had been stabbed.

Ishiki approached slowly, tilting his head back to take in the statue’s full scope.

The face was serene. Beautiful in the way classical sculptures achieved beauty—perfect proportions arranged without flaw. Eyes that saw nothing and everything simultaneously.

But there was something profoundly wrong in that perfection.

Something that suggested the statue hadn’t been carved at all. That it had once been living flesh transformed into stone by forces that one could not understand.

Petrification.

The word tasted bitter even thinking it.

Below the Angel’s feet, precisely where the statue’s base met the ground, lay ruins.

The Cathedral.

Or what remained of it.

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