Leonora erged from the pyramid, her mind already focused on what needed to be done next.
She had only made one wish, but it was enough for her to roughly grasp the nature of Midas’ Hand.
Calling it a re hand felt inadequate—it was, in essence, a gift that determined purpose.
Once a bearer of Midas’ Hand set a goal and invoked its power, the entire world would relentlessly charge toward that purpose, heedless of rcy, sacrifice, tragedy, or cody.
Like a protagonist in a story, forced to follow the author’s intent.
Leonora recalled the novels she had read for entertainnt.
Not all of them had happy endings.
So protagonists t fates so horrific that the audience wished they had never read the story at all.
If Midas’ Hand was the kind of gift that forcibly turned soone into a character within a predetermined narrative, then she had to be extrely careful about making wishes.
"How can the Golden Idol Guild beco the ruler of this world?"
Leonora did not entertain foolish wishes like turning the world into gold or claiming all the land under the Guild’s dominion.
Such desires would only lead to war.
The path to that wish would crush countless people beneath it, and in the end, the Golden Idol Guild would rule over ashes.
Besides, monopolies were appealing, but the Guild’s true strength lay in negotiation and trade.
In a way, they were warriors and gamblers, only their battles were fought with gold and words.
If she were to make a wish, it had to be one that would bring about the end of all gods.
Because the gods rendered all bets aningless.
Leonora firmly believed that in a world without gods, the Golden Idol Guild would be the undisputed victor.
In a world where there was no divine authority, gold would beco god.
"But I can’t just recklessly wish for all gods to disappear."
She contemplated as she stepped out of the pyramid.
When she had rely wished for sothing to let go, the gift had severed an entire arm.
If she wished for all gods to vanish, she had no idea what kind of catastrophic effect it would trigger.
Would it decide that humanity had to disappear along with faith?
It was impossible to predict.
The grotesque vision she had witnessed upon claiming Midas’ Hand, and the presence that had been watching her, only reinforced her caution.
This was a wish of grand scale.
It had to be approached with precision, subtle yet far-reaching.
A thod that would ensure the Guild’s victory, without directly invoking divine wrath.
As she walked, she sensed Gebel’s gaze upon her.
***
anwhile, as the Issacrea Knights exited the pyramid, they were t with an unexpected sight.
"Strange… the undead seem to be leaving on their own."
They had anticipated a grueling battle on the way out, just as they had faced ambushes on their way in.
But the few undead they encountered now seed… disoriented.
So flailed their arms wildly at the empty air.
Others slamd their heads into the ground in acts of self-mutilation.
The Knights did not find this amusing.
They found it deeply unsettling.
Undead were known for their ruthless logic.
They were not driven by mortal impulses.
For them to suddenly lose control was unnerving.
"Could this be… because of Isaac?"
Rotenhamr thought of Isaac, who had gone to confront the Immortal Emperor.
Even if he doubted that Isaac could have done anything to the Immortal Emperor,
it was impossible to ignore the madness spreading among the undead.
What the Issacrea Knights could not hear was the horrific chorus of screams that now filled all of Holy Land Lua.
—[O God, where are You?!]
—[Your servant calls for You!]
It was a psychic wail, one that only the undead could hear—
A desperate plea directed solely at the Immortal Emperor.
The undead were in panic.
The overwhelming will that had oppressed and bound them had simply vanished.
Liches and Death Knights had their own minor abilities of ntal dominion,
but without the Immortal Emperor’s presence to unify them,
they had no true leader.
The more fanatical the undead, the worse the absence felt.
For the first ti in their existence,
they were praying.
Praying to a god who would no longer answer.
"Outside!"
The leading knight called out.
At the end of the corridor, light poured in.
They were finally exiting the labyrinthine pyramid.
Relief washed over them—until Rotenhamr asked a critical question.
"Wait… Holy Land Lua was covered by a do. Why is it bright outside?"
"Huh? That’s true…"
The knights hesitated.
The last ti they had seen Holy Land Lua, it had been shrouded in darkness.
Perhaps the Dawn Army and the Archangels had broken through?
Even so, Rotenhamr could not shake his unease.
When they stepped outside—
What they saw was beyond what they had imagined.
"What in the world is that?!"
A massive Whitewood in Prayer had pierced through the do of Holy Land Lua, towering over the city.
They called it a Whitewood, but that was only because they had no other word for it.
Rotenhamr imdiately recognized that it was not just a tree.
Sothing about it was fundantally wrong.
Because normal trees did not have eyes or teeth.
And it was not the only disturbing sight.
From their elevated vantage point on the pyramid,
they could overlook the entirety of Holy Land Lua.
"Isn’t that… the Lighthouse Keeper?"
"And the Burning Maiden… Elil’s forces are there too!"
"The Dawn Army has entered the city."
If Elil’s banners were present, it ant that even the Issacrea Dawn Army had advanced.
After centuries,
Holy Land Lua had finally fallen.
The Issacrea Knights erupted into cheers.
They had etched their nas into history.
"An incredible achievent, Commander Rotenhamr."
Leonora had approached him quietly.
Rotenhamr was pleased, but he remained cautious.
There were still ongoing battles.
His attention was drawn to the disturbance near the Dawn Army’s main forces and Elil’s soldiers.
"It isn’t over yet, Lady Leonora. Be careful and regroup with the main force."
"Yes. After all, one war’s end is simply the beginning of the next."
Her dry response felt like a warning directed at him.
The Issacrea Dawn Army had clashed with the Codex of Light before.
Now that the war was almost over,
that history might co back to haunt them.
"Our exact role may be difficult to prove, but the Holy Grail Knight said that Midas’ Hand was a critical artifact for the Immortal Order."
"If nothing else, its destruction must have been a great help."
Leonora smiled and nodded.
"I will personally ensure it is recorded."
"Commander! Soone is approaching from below!"
Their conversation was interrupted by a knight’s urgent shout.
A group was rapidly scaling the pyramid steps.
It was—
Lycanthrope warriors.
They scaled the towering steps in re monts, surrounding the knights.
"Tuhalin! It’s us!"
"Calm your warriors, Raullok!"
Rotenhamr quickly moved to stop the Lycanthrope warriors before they lost themselves to the thrill of battle.
For warriors who were half-beast, half-man, such frenzies were common.
Just then, Raullok half-removed his wolf pelt and shouted down the steps.
"Tuhalin! Tuhalin! Over here! We found Mistilteir!
"Well done! Hold on, I’m coming!"
Rotenhamr spotted Tuhalin making his way up the stairs.
With his stocky fra and short legs, he was stubbornly climbing as fast as he could.
The growling of the Lycanthropes irritated Rotenhamr, and so he slamd his warhamr against the pyramid with a resounding boom.
"Tuhalin! Put a leash on your damn dogs before I start kicking them!"
Raullok snarled at the insult, but Tuhalin finally noticed Rotenhamr.
"Rotenhamr? Damn it, why are you up there?! Raullok! You said you found Mistilteir!
"The scent is strong. It’s here."
"Stay where you are! And stop transforming! The undead are too insane to notice anyway!"
At Tuhalin’s command, the Lycanthropes removed their pelts and returned to human form.
But their stance still made it feel like the Issacrea Knights were surrounded.
Rotenhamr couldn’t wait for Tuhalin to reach them. He had to ask—
"Tuhalin! What the hell is Mistilteir? We don’t have anything like that!"
"Even if you did, you wouldn’t know! Because I don’t even know!"
"Then why are you searching for it?!"
"Because the Thunder Artisan is leaving the pyramid, and we assud the undead would have stolen it—"
"Stolen what, exactly?!"
Before Tuhalin could answer, a thunderous voice rang out.
[Mistilteir! The tal of mist! The spring’s blooming dagger! The chaotic primal form, capable of becoming anything! The light reflecting from outside the cave!]
It was the Thunder Artisan.
His voice reverberated through the tal armor of those around him, sending vibrations rattling through the air.
Rotenhamr and the Holy Knights felt their eardrums tremble.
[You have it!]
[I don’t know where it ca from, but hand it over to the Lightning Hamr before it falls into the wrong hands!]
[It must not be handled recklessly!]
Rotenhamr recognized the urgency in the Thunder Artisan’s voice.
He had no idea what had the Archangel so nervous, but—
It was clear that even he was struggling to comprehend the artifact’s nature.
"Mistilteir"…
Was it so kind of riddle?
Fog-tal? Spring’s blooming dagger?
But not everyone was as slow to understand as Rotenhamr.
Gebel was the first to realize—
“Mistilteir” ant Midas’ Hand.
He moved instantly, reaching toward Leonora.
At the sa ti, Shalok yanked her back.
Leonora swiftly shouted, "Take the Holy Knights hostage!"
The rcenaries hesitated.
Not because they feared betraying their allies,
but because taking a Holy Knight hostage was pointless.
A knight of the Codex of Light would rather die than be held hostage.
Which ant—
Leonora’s command was not ant for the rcenaries.
The Lycanthropes wavered, but then the Thunder Artisan roared:
[Keep the Holy Knights from acting!]
The Lycanthrope warriors, just monts out of their transformation, hesitated before lunging forward.
Even in human form, they were formidable warriors.
In an instant, chaos erupted.
Fights broke out in all directions—
A confusion of snarls, shouts, and clashing steel.
Rotenhamr, furious, bellowed:
"Thunder Artisan! How dare you do this?! This is—"
[Silence!]
[If your lives are in danger, who knows what Mistilteir will do?!]
The Thunder Artisan was afraid.
Leonora felt that fear—
And it thrilled her.
‘Midas’ Hand isn’t valuable because it can grant wishes.’
She had always understood the value of asymtric power.
Midas’ Hand was the ultimate form of asymtry.
And the best way to use such a weapon?
Never use it.
As long as she held the potential to use it—
Every god, every Archangel, every power in existence would be forced to sit at her negotiating table.
The Thunder Artisan knew this—
Which was why he had ordered the Holy Knights to be subdued first.
The rest would depend on negotiation.
But—
Not everyone in the room was thinking rationally.
Gebel acted without hesitation.
He had already guessed what Midas’ Hand was.
But that didn’t matter.
He had one mission—
Isaac’s request.
Destroy Midas’ Hand.
Or, failing that—
Steal it and run.
Leonora’s severed arm had left things uncertain, but—
The Thunder Artisan’s words had confird it.
Midas’ Hand was Leonora.
And that was all Gebel needed to know.
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