The followers of the Church of Light were fearless. Even as they watched their comrades’ bodies fall in pieces, they charged upward without hesitation.


    Charles, clutching a barrel of explosives, hung upside down from the ceiling, waiting for the right moment.


    When the explosions became most intense, he spread his wings and flew toward the distant rift.


    By now, the massive flesh shield-borer had lost most of its tendrils to the explosions. Its body was riddled with craters, and glaring sunlight pierced through its wounds. Three of its six thick insectoid legs were shattered. Though it was still healing, the process had noticeably slowed.


    But achieving this had cost nearly all the followers of the Church of Light. Only two airships remained, teetering in the air.


    Seeing the hope of reaching the surface, Charles flapped his wings and charged toward the gaping hole in the shield-borer’s body.


    As he emerged from the fleshy disc, he was met with blinding sunlight that burned his skin. He had made it.


    At that moment, Charles felt a sharp pain in his leg.


    He looked down to see a small, slimy white mantis, its scythe-like blade piercing his calf.


    With a kick, he sent it flying and turned to look behind the shield-borer.


    Clusters of white eggs were piled on its back, trembling occasionally. This was a mantis hatchery!


    "Whoosh!" Flames erupted on Charles’ calf. His heart sank—the rubber suit had been torn!


    As the fire rapidly spread, Charles wasted no time. He transformed back into his human form and sprinted across the shield-borer’s back.


    Once human, he quickly used his black blade to cut away the burning flesh, averting the crisis of being consumed by flames.


    Charles glanced around, grabbed the explosives, and limped toward the nearest thick leg of the shield-borer.


    Its regenerative abilities were strong. To ensure their safety, they had to send it plummeting to the sea.


    Sensing Charles’ intent, the eggs on the shield-borer’s back began to crack. Malformed, underdeveloped mantises struggled to attack him.


    But these deformed creatures were no match for Charles. With swift strikes of his blade, he dispatched them efficiently.


    "Sssss…" The fuse was lit. Charles used his prosthetic arm and the black blade to climb rapidly up the cliff face.


    "Boom!!" A violent tremor shook the ground as the fourth leg was blown apart. The shield-borer could no longer hold itself up and began to fall toward the sea.


    As its massive body tilted, a barbed tendril as thick as a utility pole shot out from its flesh, aiming straight for Charles’ back.


    Charles’ sharp hearing caught the sound behind him. He strained to dodge left, but it was too late. The tendril pierced his prosthetic arm like a spear.


    A tremendous force yanked Charles downward with the shield-borer.


    As the blue sky above grew farther away, Charles gritted his teeth. He thrust the black blade horizontally into the cliff face.


    "Clang!" Charles’ body jerked to a halt. The sound of flesh tearing followed as excruciating pain shot through his left arm. The prosthetic and its connections to his body were ripped out.


    Hanging precariously by the black blade, Charles quickly flipped himself, planting his feet firmly on the blade’s back.


    Trembling, he removed his belt and tightly bound the wound on his shoulder.


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    "Ha… ha… ha…" Charles leaned against the cliff face, gasping for breath. Looking up at the blue sky, he laughed—a laugh tinged with madness.


    Just as Charles was about to rest before climbing again, a half-deflated airship wobbled up from below.


    Only three people remained on the lopsided deck. Charles glanced at them, then leaped from the blade onto the airship.


    Grabbing one person, he drank their blood, then pointed upward, signaling to continue the ascent.


    Once the bloodlust subsided, Charles leaned on the ship’s edge, breathing heavily.


    "Governor, was it worth it? So many people died."


    Charles glanced at the man. The rubber suit obscured his face, hiding his emotions.


    "Don’t worry. It was all worth it. Once we find the Land of Light, I’ll ask the God of Light to bring their souls to His kingdom."


    No one spoke further. The airship slowly ascended.


    The blue sky grew larger, and Charles could even see white clouds.


    "The weather’s nice today," Charles said, unable to suppress his smile.


    As they approached the rift, Charles noticed what appeared to be a city outside. The area around the rift was littered with toppled skyscrapers.


    The towering buildings blocked part of the sunlight, but Charles could already see a portion of the blazing sun—so familiar, so pure.


    The airship continued to climb but wouldn’t last long. "Psssh~" The deflated balloon began to leak.


    "Quick, head toward the buildings!!" Charles urged.


    Using its last bit of power, the airship delivered the four to a hole in the wall of a skyscraper. Inside was a dusty stairwell.


    "Wait," Richard suddenly paused. He pulled out a crown studded with colorful gems, examined it, and tucked it away again.


    "What’s that?"


    "A souvenir for my sister. I traded it for an echo on Hope Island."


    "Is that really a gift for a girl?"


    "It’s fine. She’s a sucker for anything valuable. Let’s go."


    "This way," Charles led the four as they stumbled toward the rooftop.


    The building was tilted, so the stairs were slanted. As the floor numbers increased, Charles’ heart raced.


    Suddenly, he stopped. Less than three meters away was the red door to the rooftop.


    The door wasn’t locked. All he had to do was push it open, and he’d be back on the surface.


    Charles reached out but hesitated. An indescribable fear washed over him.


    An impulse surged within him—a desire to return to the Underground Sea, to Hope Island, to his crew.


    "B-bro… we’re home. It’s okay. We’re not scared. Let’s go together," Richard’s trembling voice echoed in his mind.


    Charles took a deep breath and reached for the door handle.


    Three… two… one! Both personalities controlled his arm as he turned the handle. The door creaked open, and blinding light flooded in.


    When Charles’ eyes adjusted, he froze.


    It wasn’t the sun. The bright light in the sky was more like a massive ring made of the same material as the sun.


    In the center of the ring floated pieces resembling tangram blocks, interlocking to form a giant white triangle.


    "Waaahh!!" The three followers of the Church of Light rushed onto the tilted rooftop, prostrating themselves and wailing.


    "Great God of Light, Your lost children have finally found You!!"


    "Almighty God, please accept my soul! Let me join Your kingdom!!"


    It wasn’t the sun. It was the God of Light, worshipped by the Church of Light.


    Charles looked around in shock. The cliff walls were painted blue, dotted with white clouds. The blue he had seen earlier was just paint.


    This wasn’t the surface. It was a hollowed-out cavern in the dome, created by the Foundation for habitation. They were still underground. He hadn’t escaped.


    Charles’ knees gave out, and he collapsed to the ground. His expression twisted as a sound emerged from deep within his throat.


    It wasn’t crying. It was a choked, suppressed sob. Charles couldn’t hold it back, and he began to cough, clutching his neck, his face turning red.


    The cough turned into a wail, a scream-like lament, like the cry of a bird dying on a cold winter night.


    "Why… why!! What do you want from me!!! I just want to go home!! Why!!"


    As Charles screamed, saliva and tears mixed, forming a string that dripped onto the thick dust of the rooftop.


    Suddenly, Charles moved. He pulled out the crown and hurled it to the ground. Then he reached into his coat and pulled out a glass vial—the potion he had used to erase personalities.


    "Hahaha!! Fine! Charles, you stay in this dump. I’m out!!"


    With that, Richard tilted his head back and downed the potion.


    Halfway through, his hand dropped. Charles felt an emptiness, as if something had vanished.


    Charles, still crying, laughed. He pulled out another vial.


    Amid the prostrate followers of the Church of Light, Charles stood, unscrewing the vial with his teeth.


    He raised it toward the blinding ring in the sky. "I don’t care what you are anymore. Cheers. Long live the Sun God. May I have a good reincarnation."


    The bright ring flashed, and a gentle female voice echoed. "Dawn One reporting the time for New World citizens. It is now… twelve… o’clock… noon."


    Charles laughed hysterically, tilting his head back to drink. But his body swayed, and the vial slipped from his hand, shattering on the ground.


    "Ph’nglui mglw’nafh Cthulhu R’lyeh wgah’nagl fhtagn." The maddening whispers returned.


    As the whispers grew louder, Charles saw his fingers transforming into tentacles covered in eyes.


    His body began to sprout amorphous organs—crab-like claws, bloated black spheres, and triangular fish-like eyes.


    "Haha, interesting. All at once, huh?" The mutated Charles laughed maniacally as he walked toward the edge of the rooftop.


    Beyond it was the rift he had just climbed.


    Without hesitation, Charles leaped.


    The wind howled in his ears as the myriad eyes on his body opened slightly. Scenes from both the surface and the Underground Sea flashed before his eyes.


    But in that moment, none of it mattered anymore.