Only when Filvis produced the strangely colored crystal did Cid finally understand what she had been trying to conceal.
It looked nothing like an ordinary magic stone. Instead of a single clean hue, the crystal was lurid—almost seductive in its coloration—and within it, something like liquid seemed to swirl and flow.
A curse… but not quite. It was a type Cid had never encountered.
"This is power that can force your body to metamorphose," Cid said, eyes narrowing as he examined it. "Try inserting it into your chest."
In his perception, the densest concentration of Filvis's curse sat right around her heart.
"Okay!"
Filvis didn't hesitate. She drove the crystal straight into her chest.
Cid froze.
Wait—she's actually doing it? And she's pushing it in that hard?!
He was already calculating how he was going to clean up the mess when, in the next instant, Filvis's body underwent a dramatic change.
"So it really works?" Cid muttered, interest overtaking his shock. "That's… fascinating."
With Filvis clearly having lost consciousness, Cid carried her to an even more secluded location.
Deep within the artificial labyrinth, Knossos, Dionysus stepped into a hidden chamber—and burst into satisfied laughter.
"Filvis… you used the power I gave you in the end. Which means you'll return to my side in the end!"
"Stop raving," Erebus cut in coldly, speaking to a god of the same rank as if he were a servant. "Where's the feast you promised?"
This wasn't for Erebus himself. It was for someone else.
Dionysus didn't seem offended. He handed over an entire sack of crystals.
If Filvis had been there, she would have recognized them immediately.
Every last one was identical to the crystal she had just used.
"This is the 'meal' you claim will let Gluttony truly feast?" Erebus asked, idly rolling two crystals between his fingers.
Even he had never seen anything like these colors.
If possible, he wanted Dionysus to explain where they came from.
"Now that delivery's done," Dionysus said lightly, "I'll be on my way."
"Since you're already here, why rush off?" Erebus replied, almost warmly.
"Because I'm only using you," Dionysus said with a smile, gently pushing past him. "We're not friends."
He left without hurry.
This time, Erebus didn't stop him. He simply watched Dionysus's back recede, the smile draining from his face.
"Exactly the same as he was in Heaven," Erebus murmured. "A monster."
Gods rarely called other beings monsters—least of all other gods.
The divine realm had no shortage of eccentric, twisted minds, but only a handful ever earned that word from Erebus.
Dionysus was one of them.
"If you're that worried, kill him," Chaldo said lazily. "If you want to give humanity more trials… then stop minding him."
Chaldo picked up a crystal and tossed it into his mouth, crunching down.
Even prepared, Erebus still found the sight astonishing.
"You're sure this is safe? That doesn't look like food."
Normally, crystals weren't food for anyone.
In fact, what kind of creature would even treat them as food?
Erebus couldn't imagine it.
Dionysus, apparently, could—and had the creativity to serve them as a "banquet."
"And you're asking me?" Chaldo said, swallowing with ease. "I'm Gluttony."
He finished one crystal without the slightest change in expression.
Then his aura ticked upward—only slightly, but unmistakably.
The increase wasn't dramatic. Yet for someone of his level to gain anything at all was already extraordinary.
Feeling the effect, Chaldo stopped savoring and began eating in earnest—one crystal after another.
He barely chewed. It was as if he dumped every burden onto his stomach and trusted it to do the work.
"Gluttony's teeth and stomach are the most reliable things in the world," Erebus said with a pleased chuckle. "Do your best."
For the record, Erebus had already parted ways with the two Overlords.
As the "Greatest Evil," Erebus wanted to give justice—and all of Orario—a trial.
Chaldo and Alfia had once shared that goal.
But after Shadow's appearance, the Overlords' intentions diverged.
Erebus believed what mattered most was the conviction that could overcome anything.
The Overlords, however, no longer cared about cultivating Orario as a whole.
They wanted to test the single hero.
They still believed only one hero could defeat the Black Dragon.
And now that the one candidate had appeared, they intended to wield their full strength to forge him.
A trial had to be brutally hard—only then would the reward on the far side be worthy.
Though they had "split," they still moved together.
Aside from their final destination, what they were doing remained similar enough.
At Erebus's urging, Chaldo accepted the task of testing Orario.
Last time he'd jumped the gun. This time, he would yield the stage to Alfia.
Alfia loved that arrangement.
Ever since she'd seen Shadow with her own eyes, her heart had made room for only one person.
As Chaldo's pressure climbed higher and higher, Orario's future looked bleak.
And yet Erebus still found it insufficient.
He threw on more fuel.
"According to the original plan," Erebus said smoothly, "if Orario defeats you, many of them should level up. But if only you go—and they still can't even kill you—can that be called a great feat?"
"Save the provocation," Chaldo said, voice hardening. "You should worry about them. The Gluttony who steps onto that battlefield next won't be holding back."
In under five minutes, an entire sack of those obscene crystals vanished into Chaldo's gut.
When he finished, he licked his lips, almost nostalgic.
All his life, he had grown stronger by consuming—strength without an upper limit.
After devouring the flesh of Behemoth, his power had reached its peak… and then the poison struck, and his strength plunged.
Now, with the poison temporarily suppressed and a true feast inside him, he could feel it.
He was back to roughly seventy percent of his prime.
And Erebus had already struck a deal with Dionysus:
Until the decisive battle began, the wine god would deliver an entire sack to Chaldo three times a day.
By the appointed day—the seventh day of the Great Feud—what Orario would face would be Gluttony at true peak.
No exaggeration.
"I won't waste much time on them," Chaldo said flatly. "If they can so much as injure me, I'll count that as passing."
He no longer regarded Ottar or Finn and the rest as worthy of his full attention.
There was only one person he cared about now.
Shadow.
Even if he didn't take Orario seriously, with their current lineup, they had no chance against him as he was now.
That wasn't arrogance.
It was simply an accurate understanding of the gap in power.
"Terrifying," Erebus said, clapping lightly. "Our Lord Gluttony is terrifying. But the truly terrifying one is over there."
He turned his gaze to Alfia.
Alfia sat in meditation, as if asleep.
For the past two days she had maintained that state—unmoving, silent, like a statue.
The air around her had turned heavy with stillness.
She was only "digesting" the medicine, yet the pressure radiating from her grew more oppressive by the hour.
She did nothing—nothing at all—and her recovery still outpaced even Chaldo, who had just feasted.
Both were Level 7. Both were Overlords who had completed one of the Three Great Quests. Both were members of the "Greatest Evil."
And yet, they were not on the same plane.
Aside from the unknown Shadow, no one in the era of the great familias had ever stood on the same plane as a healthy Alfia.
Chaldo glanced at his companion from a distance.
Even as an ally, her presence pressed on him.
Behemoth's poison was horrific… but compared to Alfia's curse, it was practically childish.
Her curse was the hatred of Heaven made manifest.
The punishment of fate itself.
It was simple: the poison of a king of the land could not contend with Heaven, could not contend with destiny.
If it weren't for a curse on that level, how could someone as terrifying as Alfia have been reduced to this?
A healthy Alfia was, to the great familias, a living concept—a myth given flesh—the kind of existence that could solo the Black Dragon.
In fact, even back when her curse had already begun to erode her combat power—though not yet as severe as now—she, at Level 7, could duel the Level 9 Empress one-on-one.
And if she hadn't been shackled by the curse, she would have already risen to Level 8.
Even the barrier to Level 9 wouldn't have held her forever.
Shadow's medicine wouldn't erase her curse.
But if she regained even seventy percent of her full strength…
She would become humanity's final trial.
Chaldo stared at her a moment longer, then smiled, restless.
He wanted time to move faster.
He was desperate to see what Shadow was truly made of.
If Shadow could surpass Gluttony—
If Shadow could surpass Silence—
Then Shadow would become that one and only hero.
....
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