Chapter 215: The Tear-Shedding Serpent (6)

Under the clear moonlight, the middle finger Muen held aloft stood out, brazen and insolent.

But Silent Moon cared nothing for his rudeness, nor would it linger on the meaning of his gesture or his words. In truth, the banshee’s costly prayer had only drawn that god’s gaze for the briefest instant.

Silent Moon’s eyes soon turned away. The blue moon above remained luridly beautiful, but the suffocating divine pressure was gone.

The bindings on Muen, however, did not lift.

For an Evil God, even a glance was enough to doom a little Second Rank warrior like him.

“Giggle... it seems our classmate Muen has finally learned to behave.”

The banshee swayed her serpent’s tail as she approached, then bent gracefully and sat directly on Muen’s chest.

“Well then? Can you still speak those big words you spouted just now?”

“I never said big words. But you—”

Muen locked eyes with her and suddenly laughed.

“—actually got so scared you called the moon itself down. I must admit, I didn’t expect that.”

“Against an opponent like classmate Muen, with hidden trump cards upon trump cards, there can never be too much caution.”

She smiled enchantingly, her eyes gliding over his face—though a flicker of doubt passed within them.

“Muen, you don’t look the least bit afraid?”

“Why should I fear?”

“Because you’re about to die.”

“Is that so? And how will you kill me?”

“How, hm... let me think...”

The banshee actually paused to consider.

Then her gaze slid down.

“Mmm. Looks so sweet. That Anna Kaplin didn’t take a bite... what a pity.”

A strange light flickered in her eyes.

The jealousy she had buried surfaced once more, stoking her restlessness.

She leaned down, tearing open Muen’s shirt, her fingers brushing across his chest.

“If I can’t replace Anna Kaplin to become a noble divine heir... then at least I can replace her in completing what she left undone.”

Her forked tongue slid across her lips. She bent lower, staring into his eyes, and giggled:

“Muen Campbell—I’m going to eat your heart.”

“Eat... my heart?”

Muen murmured softly, his gaze a little vacant, almost stupid.

The banshee thought he was finally succumbing to fear, and her laughter grew brighter.

But Muen wasn’t afraid. His eyes had drifted past her—toward the sky, the clouds, the moon, the sheets of rain pouring down.

Then, slowly, his vision returned to her.

Raindrops trickled into his eyes, turning the world into a blur.

In his ears, whispers still hissed; in his nose, the iron stench of both their blood. The banshee straddled his chest, her slender waist swaying—an image vivid with death.

It was all too familiar.

This was... the prophetic dream.

“...Ha. Haha... so that’s it! That’s it!”

Muen burst into loud, carefree laughter.

“This is where it was!”

“What are you laughing at?”

The banshee frowned, confused. Facing death—what was there to laugh about?

“I’m happy.”

“What’s there to be happy about?”

“The worst didn’t happen. Of course I’m happy. Happy enough to die laughing.”

His eyes shone brighter than ever, his expression alight with a joy that was utterly genuine.

Of course—because the figure he had dreaded most in that dream was not the banshee, but his senior.

Not that he truly feared dying at her hands. He feared that she might eat his heart, staining herself with this filth.

Now, he knew that would not come to pass.

The one in the dream... was the banshee.

Though his plight mirrored the dream exactly—pinned, heart moments from being torn out—he felt nothing but relief.

Yet to the banshee, that heartfelt relief looked... strange.

Would a sane man laugh like this before dying?

“...Are you insane?”

She narrowed her eyes.

As a believer of Silent Moon, she possessed spiritual talents, suggestion among them. Sensing him briefly, she knew—no, he wasn’t mad.

But if not mad... why this bizarre behavior?

Something abnormal always carried danger. Especially from a duke’s son brimming with hidden cards.

And he had said—“not the worst ending.”

Abruptly, the banshee rose, scanning the surroundings.

The darkened street lay silent. Even the distant clash of the Silent Bureau and moon-beasts had fallen still.

But that very stillness gnawed at her. For someone always cautious, always holding backup plans—she now felt events slipping beyond her control.

She glared down at Muen. “What’s your trump card?!”

“Trump card?”

He blinked, then arched a brow. “Of course I have one. But did you think I’d tell you?”

It wasn’t a lie. She could sense that.

“Outside help? A tool? Or... an ambush?”

Muen was shackled by the moon’s power. He couldn’t move, couldn’t break free. Which meant—his trump card lay beyond himself.

Her nerves prickled. The shadows of the street—something was there. Or something drawing closer.

“No! I won’t let you succeed!”

Her gaze hardened. She sneered down at him.

“Do you think I’d be careless? I’ve already prepared. I won’t let anyone disturb my feast!”

She spat out a small orb, tossing it to the ground.

At once, thick black fog surged forth, forming a dome that blanketed ten meters in every direction.

“This is...?”

“This is a treasure gifted directly by the moon—a fragment of its authority made manifest. The Fog of the Dark Moon!”

Her eyes shone with zeal. “The dark fog smothers all aura, severs all perception. Any who intrude will be lost within it. This place is sealed—no one can enter this dead zone!”

“Smothers all aura? Severs all perception?”

Muen blinked. His face turned oddly amused. “Dare I ask... does this ‘all’ also include divine power?”

“Of course.”

She sneered. “Even if several god-favored fought within, the outside would never sense it. So give up your thoughts of rescue.”

“...I see.”

His expression grew stranger still. After a beat, he sighed deeply.

“Miss Banshee... I used to think you were a thorough villain. But I was wrong.”

“Oh?”

“I °• N 𝑜 v 𝑒 l i g h t •° had planned to blow myself up no matter what. Yet you actually pulled out your most precious, last-resort treasure just to stop me. This sincerity... I can’t help but be moved.”

If he could move, Muen might have wiped away a tear of gratitude.

The banshee only grew more confused. But her unease would not fade—it deepened.

She had sealed all within and without—so why did she still feel like something was wrong?

“Enough!”

Her silver teeth clenched. She decided to kill him first.

Her hand reached for his heart—

And then, the sun rose.