Following the end of that conversation, we continued walking, our discussion drifting into broader topics.

From the strange succubus, I learned many things; one of them being the origin of this festival. It was said to commemorate the Blasphemers' first victory against the Dreadspire. Naturally, the tale was bound to the legend of the House of Snows, or more precisely, to its founder.

Of course, I already knew some things about the Great Snow clan. Everyone did. The achievements of its bloodline were too prominent to ignore; the legendary deeds of Gundric's supposed father and grandfather had long since crossed from the pages of history into reality.

Their names had become synonymous with heroism and the indomitable spirit.

For instance, the father of Immortal Wing earned the name "Sword God" after rising from the rank of Wanderer and conquering the First Void Seed. From there, he went on to become the first to clear the trials of the Murmur and, later, the first to ascend as a Hunter after passing the Third Phrase.

But as the saying goes, no hero rises without sacrifice, and every great story demands a powerful conclusion. Such was the pattern for all the legendary figures of history.

As one of the earliest Blasphemers of the New Sequence, Sword God was forced to confront the Eldritch Creatures that appeared with the rise of the Dreadspire. In those days, the First Cataclysm struck without warning, claiming millions of lives. From their deaths, an army of abominations was born, numbering in the millions. By then, most of the Old Sequence Blasphemers had already perished, and the victims themselves were of Dormant rank, making the ensuing flood of monsters an overwhelming force.

It was only because of people like the Sword God and co, that the situation changed. There were those who had survived the First Cataclysm, then entered the Spirit Realm and destroyed the Void Seeds. After returning to the real world, they united and fought back against the tide of Eldritch Creatures, eventually establishing a new world order.

The one that came into being on this day marked the birth of legend.

It was this event that gave rise to the Great Imperial Clans. Among them, the House of Snows stood as the first to emerge, a progenitor from which all the others traced their origin. It was for this reason that a grand festival was established in their honor, commemorating their victory over the Murmer.

Still, there were troubling uncertainties within this history.

Where, for instance, was the Golden Emperor during these events?

Was he bound somewhere, unable to act? If not, then how had he died?

Did his end come with the rise of the Dreadspire, or only afterward, in the shadow of that mystery's emergence?

No... something about this could not be right.

The Golden Emperor was the Sovereign who created the Human Domain. That means he was the direct agent of the Ancient God Supreme. The Nine Realms should have long been destroyed, yet Earth still remains.

And then there is Arcadia to consider. It is also part of the Human Domain, or perhaps better said, its equal half. Were Earth and Arcadia always divided like this, or did they become separated at some unknown point?

But what unsettles me the most is that the Nine Sovereigns were said to be dead, the Golden Emperor included. If that is true, then why has the Human Domain not collapsed along with them?

None of this makes any sense. In the end, I'm left with more questions than answers. Damn it.

In order to solve mysteries, one needed to ask questions. But every question gave rise to another, demanding deeper investigation. And the result of that investigation was nothing but more questions!

Questions! Questions! Questions!!

There was no end. It was a cruel and endless paradox. The readers were victims of outworldly cruelty!

Ugh. Just what nonsense was I even thinking about? It was probably best to stop dwelling on such matters tonight.

After all, the night was still young and radiant. The surroundings were equally bright, and more importantly, a fine young lady was accompanying me on this beautiful evening.

How could I possibly spoil the mood with my philosophical brooding?

Speaking of young ladies, Brynlee was a mystery in her own right. I had always imagined her as the type who was perpetually serious, someone who didn't know the first thing about enjoying herself. That was the impression she gave me during my countless visits to the academy's library. However, as it turned out, I couldn't have been more wrong.

She was, in truth, simply well-reserved.

That was why the succubus rarely came across as the talkative type and often kept to herself. If she didn't know you, she felt no need to overstep boundaries or reveal too much. But once she grew familiar with you — once she caught a glimpse of your personality — she began to open up. And when that happened, the carefully maintained mask she always wore would start to slip.

Beneath that mask was someone with a dry sense of humor, shy, a little awkward, yet unmistakably free-spirited and friendly. Her smile sometimes appeared mischievous, almost perverted… though perhaps that was only my imagination.

And of course, there was her beauty. Even among the Sleepless and other Blasphemers who walked the roads, Brynlee stood apart. Her body bore features that seemed almost unreal: lavender skin that seemed to glow, and aqua hair that shimmered like flowing water. Unlike the beastmen or even the elves, she truly seemed out of this world, and at the same time, unholy.

It was as if her very existence itself was an act of blasphemy.

Was this the true mystery of a succubus, I wondered? If a single one could look like this… then what kind of beauty, or horror, would the Mother Tree of Depravity embody?

'No, no, no! Don't even think about that entity!' I muttered inwardly, repeating the words in a desperate attempt to banish the thought from reality.

However, it was impossible to truly erase what lingered in the mind. In the end, the thought did not disappear; it merely recoiled, sinking into the deepest corners of my consciousness.

"Hello? Are you even listening?"

"Eh?"

Brynlee waved her hand in front of my eyes, and I blinked helplessly.

"You're spacing out again. What are you thinking about so seriously?"

I smiled sheepishly.

"Nothing much. I just thought you looked quite beautiful tonight."

Her eyes narrowed slightly.

"Are you… perhaps making fun of me?"

Gulping in exasperation, I uttered:

"Of course not! I wouldn't dare make fun of you, Miss Brynlee!"

Her expression softened just a little, though her suspicious gaze lingered.

"Hmph. You say that so easily, but your words sound more like flattery than the truth. And stop calling me 'Miss.' It makes me feel old."

My brow creased.

"But aren't you older than me? In that case, isn't it proper to call you Miss?"

"I suppose… but I'm telling you it isn't needed anymore."

I tilted my head. "So you really are that worried about sounding old?"

Her lips parted, closed, then parted again, clearly searching for a quick retort. In the end, she snapped her mouth shut, words dying on her tongue.

Her lavender cheeks faintly darkened, though whether from irritation or embarrassment, I couldn't tell. She turned her face away.

"Tck. You're insufferable."

So I was insufferable simply because she disliked being called old? How amusing. Did she have a… a what? What was that word again?

Ah, an insecurity. That was it. She was insecure about her age, or something along those lines.

But then… was it possible she was actually older than she appeared?

Naturally, I wasn't about to ask her. Worst case scenario, her face would flush red like a tomato and she'd storm off in a huff. That wouldn't exactly look good on me, my lady storming away like a scorned date. Not that this was a date. I doubted she considered it as such, anyway.

Still… teasing her a little wouldn't hurt, right?

Right?

As that thought crossed my mind, a devilish grin crept upon the edges of my lips before I realized it.

And then,

"Oh? Isn't that Sonny over there?"

My smile vanished.

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