Theron stopped with caution, his body growing tense.

He didn't know what this thing was. It was the first time he had laid eyes on it despite the fact it had been following him all the while. In fact, he had no idea that this Spirit was the only reason he had been exposed in the first place.

Without its action, he would have long left the Sect without ever having been found out at all. After all, who would dig up the grave of a recently deceased little girl?

With Theron's skills, he would have completely gotten off scot-free.

But by the same token, without the actions of the Dark Spirit pushing him into a corner, he would have never found the Howling Shadow Blade's legacy, nor would he have had the chance to rob the Nightingale Sect blind for all it was worth.

If Patriarch Nightingale's death didn't lead to their decline, just the fact they no longer had the foundation to support such a large number of disciples certainly would.

Theron was flush with all their wealth, while they were effectively destroyed in his eyes.

Just the first of many on the list of victims he would leave in his wake… if he could survive this, that is.

However, for whatever reason, although this Dark Spirit had appeared before him, it wasn't attacking.

A part of Theron felt that it was harmless, but there was another part that was extremely wary at the same time. Somehow, this… thing, shadow, whatever it was, gave him the impression that it was both a house of cards, and yet could kill him in a single brief instant of time if it wanted to do so.

It was like all the Dark Mana in the surroundings were bowing to its presence. Theron would say that it was akin to a Treading Cloud Realm expert with its level of Mana Control, but he didn't believe that. Whatever it was… it was far beyond.

"Theron."

The shadow rippled and a voice so familiar it sent shivers down Theron's spine echoed.

At first, he thought it was Sadie. But then he realized where he knew it from. Though a little distorted, he was sure.

It was that woman. That woman Sadie had come from…

Alauna Sacharro.

Theron's wariness grew severalfold, his body crouching into a defensive stance as he thought about all the things he could use in an attempt to get away.

This time, he knew that the Dark River certainly wouldn't help him. If anything, this shadow would grow countless times more powerful in that state. In fact, just the fact they were here on this Dark Mana-rich planet meant it was already so.

To make things worse, this woman probably knew everything there was to know about him. If it was as she said, and the world he had once called home was just a formation of her own creation, while everyone he had once known was just an incarnation of herself, then what could she possibly not know about him?

The only edge he had was what he had gained between leaving her world and now.

But was that enough?

The only reason Theron had even been able to escape her the first time was by cutting her connection off to the world and forcing her Sadie variation to take control of the reins instead.

He knew that if he had to fight this woman in any capacity, even if it was just her remotely controlling Sadie, he would stand no chance.

He could feel an unfathomable chasm between the two of them, the sort that—

"I won't kill you." The voice said softly.

The Dark Spirit rippled and it slowly began to take more and more of the shape of this woman.

Even so faded, and hidden beneath so many layers he couldn't even see quite clearly, Theron felt an irrational anger toward how beautiful she was.

No, it was an irrational anger toward the fact that he of all people was taking note of something like that in a situation like this one.

There was no doubt in his mind. Alauna was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, and he had yet to even see her full and true appearance.

But that was just the way of the world of cultivation, now wasn't it? Something so gorgeous, so perfect and well-manicured in its exterior, could be so dark, chaotic, and deluded on the inside.

The entire Nightingale Sect was hunting him down because they thought him to be a monster, and yet what secrets was their Patriarch hiding in his closet?

Hypocrites. Every single one of them.

Why did such a cultivation world even have to exist? It was better off being wiped out.

As perfect as she was—and she certainly was perfect—the more beautiful she was, the more of that perfection Theron could see, the more enraged he felt.

Malaya had never been the most beautiful woman. She had been of average appearance, and of abnormal gentleness, caring, and heart. If she really was an incarnation of this Alauna, she represented such a small and insignificant part of this Goddess that it had long been swallowed up by darkness.

Much the same way Malaya was an incarnation of this woman, so too was Garethon Seijin, so too was Patriarch Gian, so too was every murderer, every rapist, every sick, twisted, disgusted reflection of humanity in that world.

The Dark Spirit's flowing fog became a dress, and a woman who stood a half head taller than Theron appeared before him, her face obscured in lines of grey and black.

Her eyes were hard to read, especially as lines of black and clouds of darkness danced within and from them. But she really didn't seem to have any intention of attacking.

There was a silence that hung in the forest, and in that moment, it seemed as though they had been entirely cut off from the rest of the world.

It was well and truly just the two of them.

And to Theron, it made the gap in their power all the more obvious.

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