Chapter 127: The Crying Moon

Two days had passed.

Count Valerius had not closed his eyes once.

He had temporarily set aside all his authority and locked himself inside the bedroom he shared with his wife.

Everything there remained exactly as it had been when she left.

Her half-used balm still sat upon the dressing table, and her favorite long gown remained hanging in the wardrobe.

Every item had once served as a testament to their life together; now, they were nothing more than silent mockery.

He paced back and forth in the room like a caged beast, his mind frantically replaying every memory related to his wife, Ella.

He attempted to find the root of her betrayal within the minute traces of the last decade.

Was it a certain night she returned late?

Was it a sentence where she had hesitated to speak?

Or was it one of those times she gazed out the window, wearing an expression he had never been able to read?

He could not remember.

He had never paid enough attention in the past.

At dusk on the second day, he stepped out of the bedroom and walked straight to the study.

The servants, seeing him emerge, lowered their heads in fear, not daring to make a single sound.

He searched through the bookshelves with rough movements, the elegance he usually took pride in completely vanished.

He was looking for an old book of poetry.

It was part of Ella’s dowry, a collection she loved dearly that described the customs and landscapes of various lands.

He remembered a lazy afternoon many years ago when Ella had leaned against his chest, pointing at an illustration in the book and telling him with a smile that it was her favorite place to go as a child.

An abandoned Temple of the Moon.

She had said the moonlight there was special, so quiet that one could hear the voice of their own soul.

He found the book and flipped to that page.

The illustration had yellowed, but the silhouette of the building remained clear.

Valerius closed the book, turned, and rushed out of the City Lord’s manor, vaulting onto his horse.

Without taking a single guard, he galloped alone toward the outskirts of the city.

Thirty miles west of the city, deep within the dense forest.

He found the Moon Temple that had long been forgotten by the world.

The broken walls cast long shadows under the setting sun; a few crows were startled by the sound of hoofbeats, cawing as they flew into the distance.

A faint light emanated from the entrance of the temple’s catacombs.

Valerius drew his sword and descended the steps, one at a time.

Several torches were mounted on the walls.

His wife, Ella, stood in the center, wearing a simple gray robe.

Beside her were two men dressed in the same attire.

All of them wore the emblem of the Crying Moon upon their chests.

Ella showed no surprise upon seeing him.

“As expected, you have come,” she said, her voice very calm.

Valerius felt a constriction in his chest, a sharp pain far greater than any physical wound.

He looked at this woman, both familiar and strange, his throat feeling dry.

“Why?”

Ultimately, he only managed to ask those three words.

“Why?”

Ella repeated, the corners of her mouth curling into an arc he had never seen before—one filled with pity.

“Valerius, do you still not understand?”

She opened her arms in a pious gesture.

“This world died long ago; it is rotting from its very foundations. The power, desire, and wealth you chase are merely things bred upon rotting flesh, only accelerating the final collapse.”

“We are not destroying; we are purifying. We are welcoming a new life that is pure, stainless, and absolutely silent.”

Valerius’s hand holding the sword trembled.

“So, Leo City, and I—we are all just trash that needs to be purified?”

Ella’s tone softened, yet her words remained bone-chillingly cold.

“Your emotions are your cage, my husband. Your responsibility to this city, your love for me—these are all shackles. Only by discarding them can you see the true truth.”

“Truth?”

Valerius began to laugh, his laughter dry.

“Your truth is to slaughter every person in a city?”

He pointed at the emblem on her chest.

“What exactly is that thing?”

“It is called the ‘Crying Moon’.”

Ella stroked the bone emblem, a fanatical look in her eyes.

“It is the holy relic that witnesses the sinking of the world and guides us to our final destination. We are the Apostles of the Crying Moon, the executors of the end.”

The final trace of warmth vanished from Valerius’s eyes.

“My wife, Ella, is already dead.”

He raised his sword, pointing the tip directly at her.

“You are merely a monster occupying her body.”

“I will bury you with my own hands. Then, I will use every ounce of my power to completely erase you so-called apostles, along with that damned moon of yours, from this world.”

The smile vanished from Ella’s face.

“Recalcitrant.”

The two men beside her moved.

They raised their hands in unison, and two grey air currents shot toward Valerius like venomous snakes.

Valerius swung his sword to parry.

The blade collided with the grey currents, emitting a piercing sizzling sound; corrosive marks appeared instantly on the sword’s surface.

Battle erupted.

As the lord of a city, Valerius possessed extraordinary skill, but the fighting style of the two Crying Moon apostles was extremely bizarre. Their power was filled with the aura of death and decay, with every attack aimed directly at the human spiritual core.

Valerius was quickly suppressed at every turn; a grey mist brushed past his arm, and his entire left arm immediately became numb and stiff.

He was forced into a corner, his breathing heavy.

Ella stood to the side, watching everything with indifference, as if observing a play that had nothing to do with her.

One of the apostles raised a hand, and a massive scythe composed of grey energy formed in the air.

“It is over, Lord Count.”

The scythe hissed as it stabbed toward Valerius’s chest.

***

Lia’s consciousness drifted up from a sea of chaos.

The first thing she recovered was not hearing or touch, but a sensation.

The sensation of being watched.

That gaze was undisguised, direct and focused, falling heavily upon her and making her feel as though everything about her was being seen through.

She forced her eyes open with effort.

The light in the room was somewhat dim, and the curtains were drawn.

Her vision slowly came into focus.

Klein was sitting by her bed.

He sat in a chair, leaning forward slightly with his elbows resting on his knees and his hands clasped.

He simply sat there quietly, his blue eyes watching her without blinking once.

Lia’s brain stalled for a moment.

What was going on?

How long had he been here?

Had he been watching her like this the whole time?

A series of question marks exploded in her mind.

Immediately after, an uncontrollable heat spread from the base of her neck to her cheeks.

She wanted to move, even if just to look away, but her limbs were filled with a heavy exhaustion that refused to obey.

The aftereffects of overextending her mental energy made even lifting a finger feel difficult.

This situation of being unable to move, left entirely to the other party’s scrutiny, made her feel an unprecedented level of embarrassment.

She could only stare back at him stiffly.

The room was so quiet that they could hear each other’s breathing.

Finally, Lia’s movement broke the strange equilibrium.

She lightly twitched the corners of her mouth, attempting to speak.

Klein seemed to be startled back to reality.

He stood up abruptly, his tall silhouette blocking the faint light filtering in from outside.

He turned and walked toward the window, pulling open the heavy curtains with a single tug.

Blinding sunlight flooded in.

Lia reflexively closed her eyes.

The gaze that had made her entire body feel uneasy vanished, and the atmospheric pressure in the room returned to normal.

“You’re awake.”

Klein’s voice came from the window, his flat tone seemingly trying to cover something up.

Lia opened her eyes again, adjusting to the light.

She tried to push herself up, but as soon as she applied force, her arms went weak, and she fell back into the soft pillows.

“Don’t move around recklessly.”

Klein walked back, holding a glass of water.

He didn’t hand it to her directly; instead, he supported the back of her neck, letting her lean against his arm before bringing the glass to her lips.

Lia’s back was pressed against his cool forearm, and she was enveloped by an unfamiliar masculine scent.

She somewhat unnaturally drank a few sips of warm water from his hand, and her parched throat was soothed.

“How long was I asleep?” Her voice was a bit raspy.

“Two days.”

Klein helped her lie back down properly and tugged at the corner of the quilt.

“Two days…”

Lia looked at the ceiling, recalling everything that had happened before she collapsed.

The leyline riot, the soaring pillar of light, and herself coordinating the city’s defense arrays like a supercomputer.

She cleared her throat, deciding to reclaim the initiative.

“You’ve been standing guard here for two days?”

She turned her head to look at him. “My protection fee doesn’t include this kind of twenty-four-hour personal care service.”

Klein stood by the bed, looking down at her.

“I said it before—you agreed, so the price has to go up.”

Lia was momentarily speechless.

“Correct.” She immediately counterattacked. “Saving Leo City is a monumental achievement; the price naturally needs to be renegotiated. I will have the butler prepare a detailed invoice.”

“The invoice is this.” Klein’s tone brook no argument.

“Until you have fully recovered, stay in this room and don’t go anywhere.”

Lia blinked.

“Is this paying a reward, or is it illegal imprisonment?”

“This is a continuation of our previous contract.”

Klein walked to the bedside, propping his hands on the mattress as he leaned down to look at her.

The distance between them closed instantly.

“Do not leave my sight for even a single step.”

He repeated his original requirement. “You are too weak right now to follow me. Therefore, I am staying here.”

His blue eyes reflected her somewhat startled face.

This logic… dammit, it was ironclad.

Lia found she couldn’t refute him at all.

She had been locked in place by her own words and his requirements together.

She looked away, staring at her hand resting on the quilt.

“Fine.” She compromised. “But as my guard, you have to be responsible for my three meals a day. Plus afternoon tea and late-night snacks. My tastes are very picky.”

A very faint exhale came from above.

Lia looked up, just in time to catch a fleeting curve at the corner of Klein’s mouth.

“Very well.”

He straightened up and turned toward the door.

“Where are you going?” Lia asked reflexively.

Klein’s footsteps paused, but he didn’t look back.

“To inform the kitchen to satisfy your picky tastes.”

The door was closed gently.

Lia lay on the bed alone; the room still held the faint breeze stirred by his departure.

She raised a hand to touch her cheek.

‘Dammit, why is it so hot?’

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