Rose looked at Asael, then slowly slid her crimson eyes toward her hand, dangling beside him.

The words of Asael echoed inside her. Loud and sharp. And she forgot to breathe. Her eyes became redder, this time a red of pure agony.

Her chest constricted, her mouth begging her to open it for air to get in. But the Princess of Drought kept it closed.

For she knew that opening it meant opening a dam, and she would break in front of Asael.

She could not.

She had lowered herself for love. She sought forgiveness for love. And yet… it was not enough.

I was never enough.

Her head became dizzy, as the last ember of hope she had for a life worth living disappeared into the cover of merciless shadows.

She shrank back into herself, then staggered back. One step. Two steps. She swayed and fell.

Her left ankle twisted ugly, a loud crack echoing through the shadowed space.

Asael's eyes widened and he opened his lips to speak, yet only soundless words escaped. He shut it down, then closed his eyes, his body trembling.

He turned his back on Rose, unable to see her current state, put down the shadow barrier, and went back beside his sleeping daughter.

The Prince sat there, hands trembling as he tried to forget the event just now by looking at Valentine's face.

The Princess of Drought looked at him blankly. She did not cry. Yet she was crying.

Her soul was shrieking. But her face, slowly and horrifically, was becoming drought of any kind of feeling.

Rose was a child who clung to freedom and love. But both had been denied to her by the world.

The world named her Princess of Drought, yet she always loathed that title.

She was full of love.

Now she was full of hollowness.

DING!

The Will chimed.

{You have received a new title.}

Rose looked at it, eyes blank.

{Title: Princess of Drought.}

Now it was official.

Rose stood up with difficulty from the ground and limped her way back to her chamber. No words given.

Asael sacrificed love, his integrity, his honor… all for his daughter.

Rose didn't sacrifice anything. She was abandoned by them.

And on that day…

The Princess of Drought abandoned them too.

…

Fokay — Harvester's Dungeon

"I am afraid there is little to no choice for you." Vaela said, masked face fixed on Old Smith. "You know the identity of The Harvester. We cannot let you go."

Old Smith's face was solemn, her black eyes looking around uneasily. They were inside a small chamber colored in blood-red. The favorite color of the Crimson Veil.

Only Vaela was with her, but the black blacksmith could feel the presence of others not too far away.

She was outnumbered and outskilled.

Smith might be a divine blacksmith by bloodline, but she had hardly trained her true power, afraid of her identity being leaked.

Now, that decision had put her in this situation.

Nihilia sighed wearily. "You freed me." She said, her voice bitter. "Only to bind me to you."

"It wasn't planned." Vaela lied. "We only cared about saving Dain. But somehow all of this happened."

She paused, then…

"But we are not unfair." The Seer continued, playing with the tea in front of her. Smith had nothing. "We will not bind you like you think we would. The only thing you would have no right to say is the existence of the Crimson Veil and the identity of The Harvester."

"Think it through, blacksmith. We are inviting you into our group."

Vaela's voice danced with laughter.

"We have an Anthropologist that knows history. We have the most beautiful Abomination that controls the dead. And the most rigid Knight that could corrupt you to the core."

She leaned her head forward, Nihilia gulping instinctively.

The tension suddenly was choking, pressing down on her mercilessly. Old Smith didn't know why, but as she stared at the crimson starry eyes of Vaela… she felt herself slipping into multiple timelines interlocked together.

All these timelines had one thing in common. A black-haired and red-eyed man fighting against beings that sent chills down her spine.

Smith gasped, eyes dilating, then staggered backward in fear.

Behind her mask, Vaela bared her teeth in a wolfish grin,

"And here I am, The Crimson Seer." The devil said, "Please, don't take it as a threat. But anything that poses a threat to Kaden will be killed."

Vaela's hand hissed like a snake and wrapped around the cheeks of Smith. She drew her close to her masked face. Gently.

"And I am afraid you would be one if you turn down this gentle invitation."

"So tell me…" she whispered, cupping Smith's cheeks tighter, "…will you be with us or under the earth?"

Smith suppressed a quiver of her body. She didn't succeed. She was shaking like a loose skirt under a howling wind.

She stared deep into the Seer's eyes and knew she was serious. The Seer would kill her. Doubtlessly.

She licked her dry lips, "W-Will I be protected?"

"No one touches the Harvester's properties."

Properties… Smith shuddered once more.

"I… I accept."

Vaela beamed, her eyes squinting beautifully in the process.

Smith's heart skipped a beat.

Even without seeing her face, Nihilia knew the Seer was an impossible beauty. Suddenly, she wanted to see her face.

"Perfect!" Vaela's voice was now soft. She gently put down Nihilia and gave her tea. Cinnamon flavored.

"Now drink, and let's talk about our organization. And oh yes! You need a codename. My dear gave me full carte blanche on you. Fortunately, I know his taste rather well."

She smiled,

"Your codename will be Architect." Vaela decided. "Now praise The Harvester."

"W-What?"

"Praise The Harvester."

Smith hesitated, "P-Praise The Harvester."

"Perfect. Don't forget to say it every day. Now let's continue. You need to sign this Blood Oath."

Vaela said, putting on the table a red parchment made from the blood of a crimson star.

Meanwhile, Smith's mind was jumbling all over the place.

Only now did she realize that in fact…

I have joined a fanatic group?

…The Architect wanted to cry.

…

At the same exact time, in the North of Fokay, in the City of Sorrow… the city population was frozen, looking at the looming Church standing tall in the middle.

The ground was shaking, twisting and quivering like a man in agony, the pebbles dancing restlessly upon it. The merchants' carriages were breathing strenuously, the horses' eyes blanked out in horrific fear.

The air tasted of approaching doom, of grief that could break the strongest mind.

In eerie sync, the folks kneeled on the ground in the direction of the Church, kissing the dirty, dust-filled ground with their foreheads.

Under their breath they began to mumble, seeking forgiveness toward the Goddess and her faithful children, the Disciples.

They begged the gods, seeking respite despite not knowing what they did to deserve punishment.

Yet it didn't ease the earthquake.

Soon a voice ripped through the air of the City with so much malevolence that dozens of folks died on the spot, fear and grief bursting inside their hearts.

"DANCERRRRRRRRRRRRR!!!!!!"

The clouds overhead rolled away in fear, the wind whistled then let out sharp cries, multiple plebeians fell on the ground, lifeless.

Buildings quivered, then shattered into dust. And horses and beasts shat and pissed themselves before dying.

The City of Sorrow was in chaos.

And amidst this, a shadow moved through the dark alleys of the city with graceful movement, fleeing away from the Church.

—End of Chapter 376—

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