It was a workday, yet the entire thirteen-story office building was not operating; the glass gates were locked, and nobody was at the counter. Winceim Barbey stood before the gates leisurely smirked, "What a show, Mr. Wictin. After all these centuries, you still can't see how lame this is." Barbey placed one index finger on the gap between the two gates.

Exhaustion and fatigue seeped through his visage. He sighed, "Partial Unseal: Ten Percent." A tiny yellow gleam sparked from the tip of that finger. Directly following it, the glass on the gates shattered into pieces, and the metal door frames smashed on the floor. Forcing a fake, gentle smile, Winceim Barbey strode up the stairs. He would need to walk for thirteen floors to meet Chompain Wictin. It was precisely his plan.

The staircase was a U-shaped one. Barbey could look up from the first floor to see all the rifles mounted on the handrail, aiming down. Triggers were pulled. Nothing was shot. "Do you really think I'll forget to bring a lighter, Mr. Wictin?" Barbey said with an exaggerated, phony astonishment.

He walked up the stairs steadily, making a noise with every step. He met Wictin's first group of armed forces on the lower half of the stairs between the sixth and seventh floors. Barbey did not actually know if they were Wictin's private guards or hired mercenaries. He did not care either way. However, their full-face helmets and beyond-military-level crossbows made him lean towards the former possibility. The black material that covered their faces was double-layered, enhanced kevlar made of neo-aramid. Barbey had seen such material in Utlia, where he fought Haki's family. It endured his forty percent unseal perfectly. Normal ballistic vests and helmets could barely survive his twenty percent unseal.

The volley of bolts was launched without hesitation. The speed of the bolts was twice as high as regular bolts, approaching the speed of pistol bullets. The volley would surely kill that old priest, yet not Winceim Barbey, the four-dimensional being. Every moment was an eternity for him. The infinite time between the last and next second was both a blessing and a curse. An ordinary human could never reach such a level that nothing moves faster than not moving. Yet, no human had to endure such a level of suffering.

After the death of infinite Winceim Barbey, that one Barbey plainly cast the spell and died at that exact moment.

Partial Unseal: Twenty Percent.

A yellow flash of light burst from his forehead, shattering every bolt into fragments of fiber shafts and broken pieces of metal points. Abandoning their useless crossbows like their useless rifles, the guards pulled out their short swords, which were also useless. Sprinting through rifles and crossbows on the ground and stamping on the shattered bolts, the guards charged at Barbey.

Crawlingrock.

A thin cloud of shadow sneaked out of Barbey's bell sleeve, sitting on the floor between Winceim Barbey and the crowd rushing down. Immediately, the shadow swelled and expanded into a long monster. The monster's body quickly extended from the sixth floor to the landing above it, pushing people off the stairs or their feet. The monster's short, elephant-like forelegs trampled on a guard's chest, crushing every single rib of his. Some people fell off the hole in the U-shaped stairs. They were dead, for sure. Some fell on the lower segments of the stairs. Barbey could tell those were clearly alive but chose to lie. The ones that were bumped to the wall mainly were fainted. Some might have had their necks snapped.

The dark shade gradually faded as Barbey walked up the stairs. The crawlingrock revealed its true appearance. Its long body was grey, with skin thicker than tree bark. Yellowish horns in various sizes covered its back. A smaller version of the same kind of structure was also on the monster's turtle-like head. The horn in the center of the head was evidently taller than the rest around it. These horns were for both offense and defense. Even a gunshot from a rifle could only scrape down a thin layer of this material, while these horns could easily pierce through most ballistic vests.

The murderous man patted the crawlingrock on the side of its horn and left it on the sixth floor. He had no intention of letting it go back to his sleeve or any idea of taking care of it. He used the monster as a single-use item and was about to leave it there. He did not care what would happen to the crawlingrock by a bit.

Barbey's phone rang as he kept climbing up the stairs with ease. Answering the phone, Barbey heard the tragic news of Xaire's death.

"It is a wasted death," Barbey harshly criticized Xaire's defeat and commanded, "Why don't the rest of you go protect the cave together instead of throwing your life away one by one?" He did not sound mad, yet the sarcasm in his voice had revealed his suppressed anger.

The black coupe was still on the way to the coast. The three had left the skyscrapers behind, entering a more rural area with buildings that were less than seven stories. They had violated several speed limits, and no police had pulled them over. It was due to the sixteen-legs star sign at the beginning of their license plate. The star was the symbol of IAO, the International Agent Organization. Although the branch of Darape was almost entirely wiped out, the treaty between IAO and the Darape government on not interfering in agents' business still stood. The thing the three needed the least now was a speed ticket.

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However, it did not stop other pagans from bothering them. A green minivan and a blue Targa car surrounded the coupe from both sides as soon as the three entered the red-light district. Only one group of pagans would want to stick their heads into trouble after a whole branch of IAO was obliterated.

"The Saliscreacists," Haston complained after slapping his forehead and rolling his eyes.

"Who?" Adea looked over her shoulder at Haston, inspecting Haston's weird reaction. She was no longer covered in blood, but her black T-shirt was still red at the back.

"The Saliscreacists. They are a group of pagans who worship a flesh monster in Saturn's Rings."

"Okay?"

"Shit." Haston opened his duffle and began searching through it.

In an unpleasant tone, Staker answered, "The flesh monster is called Saliscreace, and it can make its followers high."

"Without drugs," Haston added.

Adea frowned. She asked, "So what?"

"Well, they can cause consented people to fall into eternal comma. They say it's entering their god's forever 'paradise.' And—" Staker elaborated and got interrupted by Haston, "They advertise it with immortality and live forever sort of shit. And there is no evidence of this so-called paradise or immortality."

Adea commented, "At least it's better than Barbey's version of immortality."

Staker quickly said before giving himself any chance to hesitate, "One of our friends was convinced by them." After a second of silence, Adea replied with her eyes shifting away from the two, "Sorry."

She spoke again after a moment of silence, "Can't we just tell them that the world may end if they don't let us pass?"

"It's easier just to fight them off," Staker replied.

In this idle district, the minivan gradually reduced its speed, forcing the agents also to slow down. The Targa car behind had prevented any possibility for Staker from changing lanes. Staker's only counter was to reduce his speed faster than the Saliscreacists so that, at least, he could be the one forcing them to stop. Wasting no time, the three cars stopped in the middle of the silent road. The sun lay its lazy shine on the top of the vehicles, caressing the sleeping red-light district. Opening the rear door of the minivan, a slim female jumped out of the vehicle.

The thin teenage girl wore a capelet, a cloak, and a long poncho. The series of garments and her waist-height hair were greyish-white and layered one over another, covering her body like a giant cocoon.

Right after the teen, a brown-skinned old man exited the Targa car. The man was slenderer than the woman. The shape of his skeleton was obvious. The web of blood vessels protruded from the frail skin. His abdomen was the only part that was fat and plump. A pair of shabby shorts was his only cloth. The other object that covered parts of his body was a waterfall of scruffy hair and beard. The hoary hair and beard leaned on the old man's shoulders and chest, covering them.

Kicking his car door open, Staker finally stood out of the coupe. He knew that teen and that old man were the two most potent spell casters among Saliscreacists. Just like the last time he met them, his wearing of a purple sweater and blue overcoat was still the outstanding one of the three, just like himself.

The teen looked at the coupe's concaved front bumper and mocked, "It seems like you IAOs aren't doing so good lately."

"Your paganism is only allowed to exist because you are at IAO's mercy." Staker glanced at the old man and swung his sight to the girl.

The satisfaction on the teen's visage turned into an extreme wrath. She yelled, "Your mercy? You have no mercy when you stop us from spreading love! Many would've already been in paradise if not for you!" She shakily bent her elbow and pointed her finger at Staker while the old man was in tranquility this whole time.

"Don't you want a fight? Let's just fight." Staker made a firm and strong sigh. He did not like to fight. Yet, he was the last manager-level agent in Darape. He knew this job came with responsibility long before becoming one. Although the world would end if he did not do something, it was not why he did all this. The sole reason Staker stood here was that he had a responsibility. Such responsibility was the only thing in the boundless universe to keep him from drifting through the void. Thus, he would not lose grip on it. For this responsibility, he would sacrifice whatever was necessary.

Staker asserted with only strength in his voice, "According to the contract, I can't harm you as long as you aren't harming people, but if you—"

Cutting through Staker's sentence, the girl shouted, "Our lord is not harming anyone! It's just kindly sharing its immortality!" She reached out both of her arms and opened her fists. Her two palms were facing each other, about a decimeter distance separating them.

"Entry of Paradise!" She immediately shouted. Staker dodged before any magic could form between her hands. However, the attack did not come from her. It was already too late when Staker realized the girl was feinting. The old man was the one who actually cast the spell.

A pink, translucent sphere touched Staker from behind. The sphere popped like a bubble, and Staker suddenly stopped moving. Within a second, six flesh pedals, with teeth along the edge, appeared under Staker and grew bigger than him. Before the end of the next second, the pedals had closed and caged Staker inside. Blood spurted when the teeth stabbed into other pedals' flesh.

The black fighter darted out of the coupe, dashing at the cocoon-like girl. The moment before she could slice the Saliscreacist into two, a pink and translucent sphere appeared between the teen's palms. Then, Adea swung her falchion. The blade cut through emptiness. While Adea was flowing in the limitless night sky, a question was abruptly shown in her mind: Do you want immortality and eternal happiness?

Honestly, she did. Everyone did. Yet, she said "no." She knew it was the Saliscreacists' magic, Entry of Paradise. Reopening her eyes, Adea found herself in darkness with tentacles wrapped around her body, torso, limbs, and even her head. The tentacle before her mouth had her muted, and another had replaced the falchion in her hand. Neither Staker nor Haston had told her about this. Were these meat cages a secret part of Entry of Paradise? Or did someone else cast another spell? She could not find her answer but sunk into tentacles.