"Bow in the presence of the Dark Moon." The voice boomed once more, echoing as the massive ship halted its descent, hovering ominously in midair. Its immense shadow blanketed the land below, but the hound extermination crew’s attention was drawn to the five figures floating in the air, all bowing, while a sixth figure, draped in black robes trimmed with silver embroidery, stood at their center.

"Just to be certain... you all see this, right?" Slim muttered, craning his head back, his voice tinged with disbelief.

"What an odd bunch," Orion said, a faint smile playing on his lips.

"But they’re flying," Plume whispered, her gaze darting between the figures. "How is that possible?"

"They're cultivators," Scott said quietly, his tone unreadable. All eyes snapped toward the voidweaver.

"Cultivators?" Plume asked, frowning in confusion. "What does that even mean?"

Scott didn’t reply, his eyes fixed on the descending group. The masked figures were dressed in pristine white masks devoid of eye or mouth slits, their presence eerily uniform. Yet, it was the figure in black, towering at over ten feet tall, that commanded the most attention. A tiger beastman, his face smeared with vibrant face paints, hovered before them. His eyes were shut, as if basking in the praises of his bowing subordinates.

"Bow in the presence of the Dark Moon. All is well in the presence of the Dark Moon. The Dark Moon shall reign supreme along with the Crimson Sun. The Dark Moon—"

The chant abruptly stopped as the tiger beastman raised his right hand, silencing his followers. The hound extermination crew tensed, prepared for any confrontation, their bodies coiled like springs. The beastman slowly opened his eyes, revealing glimmering irises, empty of light but filled with an unnerving brilliance.

He scanned the group, his gaze sweeping over each member, lingering on no one in particular. Finally, his deep, resonant voice rang out. "You’re the ones with bounties on your heads."

"And?" Scott’s reply was cold, his eyes locking with the beastman’s, unflinching.

The Dark Moon stared back, his brow furrowing slightly. "Your eyes... they’re filled with baleful qi. It’s no wonder immortals and gods detest you," he said, taking a deliberate step forward. But just as his foot moved, a small, finger-sized hole materialized in the earth, inches from his foot, halting him in his tracks.

The beastman’s gaze snapped to Zara, who stood with her arm extended, the source of the attack. His expression darkened in thought. How did she do that? Her qi is just as murky as the one with the broken eyes... in fact, all of them share variations of the same corrupt energy.

The frown on the Dark Moon’s face deepened, but his posture remained composed. He was intrigued, if not cautious, of the crew standing before him.

“I’ll take that as you not wanting me to approach. Given your circumstances, that’s understandable,” the beastman began, his voice low yet firm. His gaze hardened as lights began gathering in his eyes. “But what gives you the right to attack me in such a sacred place?” he glared at the hound extermination crew.

“I’ve never fought a cultivator before,” Orion chuckled softly. “This should be fun. Please, don’t hold back,” he added, his excitement barely contained.

But just as quickly as the lights appeared in the beastman’s eyes, they vanished. His demeanor shifted back to its previous calm, aloof state. “I’ll say this once,” he continued. “The Cult of the Crimson Sun has no interest in the bounties on your heads. We don’t want bounty hunters turning our lands into wastelands, either. We won’t assist, hinder, or expose you. So please, leave,” he finished, his voice firm but lacking aggression.

The hound extermination crew exchanged uneasy glances. They had anticipated many outcomes—battle, capture, an elaborate trap—but not this. To be simply told to leave without pursuit? It was unexpected.

Sensing their hesitation, the cultivator pressed on. “There’s no hidden ploy or—”

“Are you the leader of your cult?” Orion interrupted, tilting his head slightly.

“What?” The beastman’s brows furrowed, his confusion evident.

Orion sighed, preparing to clarify. “I said, are you the—”

“I heard what you said,” the beastman cut him off, irritation creeping into his voice. “But why does it matter?”

“Oh, it matters a great deal,” Orion replied, a mischievous smile playing on his lips as his gaze wandered. “If you’re not the leader, you don’t necessarily have the authority to make promises you can’t keep. For all we know, this could be an elaborate ploy—maybe you’re here to delay us while the rest of your cult’s forces prepare an ambush.”

“That’s nonsense,” the beastman snapped, his tone sharp.

“Then prove it.” Orion shrugged, still grinning. “Why should we believe you? Whether you’re telling the truth or not, there’s nothing stopping us from wreaking havoc on these sacred grounds you seem to hold so dear. We don’t excel at a lot of things, but causing trouble isn’t one of them,” he added, his grin widening as his gaze flickered back to the massive ship overhead.

The beastman glared at Orion, but the mage’s attention had already drifted elsewhere. The rest of the crew remained silent, neither speaking nor communicating mentally, waiting for the cultivator’s response.

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The tension hung in the air until the beastman exhaled slowly, his features relaxing. “My name is Daiki, the 41st Dark Moon of the illustrious Cult of the Crimson Sun,” he began, taking a step back. “I don’t know what the world is like in your timeline, but here, the Cult of the Crimson Sun is one of seven hegemonies that rules absolutely, at least until the Point of Oneness.”

Daiki hesitated briefly, his gaze flicking toward the hovering ship before continuing. “While the rewards on your heads are tempting, from both an individual and collective standpoint, they’re not worth the risk. You may not look it, but you must possess abilities that clearly justifies the bounties placed on you. More importantly, if word spreads that you were here, in our sacred mountains...”

He trailed off, his eyes shifting back toward the ship. His earlier confidence seemed tempered with caution now, as if calculating the consequences of his next words.

Daiki took a deep breath, his eyes betraying the conflict within him as he began to speak again. "Should your presence be revealed in our mountains, it will spell disaster for our cult. Our enemies won’t miss the chance to invade, claiming we’ve been harboring you," he explained, his voice more measured now.

Scott and the rest of the crew exchanged glances but remained silent. Their attention shifted to Orion, who smiled and stepped forward, stopping just a few paces from Daiki. "Interesting story," he mused, his tone light yet pointed. "Let me guess… something happened to your leader recently?"

Daiki’s face tightened for a moment, a flicker of surprise crossing his otherwise controlled expression. Orion’s grin widened, sensing the truth. "Was he poisoned? Injured? Slain?" he continued, his words like arrows finding their mark.

The brief narrowing of Daiki’s eyes confirmed what Orion had suspected. Chuckling softly, the mage turned his gaze toward the ship hovering ominously above them. "I can’t believe such a clichéd plot is playing out right in front of me," he muttered, half to himself, stifling a laugh.

"What are you on about?" Zara asked, her voice sharp as she communicated mentally.

Without looking at her or responding aloud, Orion replied, "Something fatal must’ve happened to their leader, and I’d bet my staff that a successor is on that ship. They’re probably stalling for time to ensure the safe escape of whoever that is."

"How in the world do you know that?" Slim blurted out, echoing the unspoken question in everyone’s mind.

Orion’s grin deepened. "Because someone activated a teleportation spell earlier. A pretty unique one at that. Problem is, it won’t work with me here. Still, I’m curious to see what else they’ve got up their sleeves." His gaze shifted back to Daiki. "I’ll give you one more chance. Half-truths won’t cut it. If you keep holding back, you and the person you're protecting are going to find yourselves in a… very uncomfortable position. The ball’s in your court. Don’t miss this shot."

Daiki’s mind raced. Does he know about Suni? There's no way that’s possible… right? He fought the urge to glance at the ship. The formation should have been activated by now. So why haven’t I received a signal? Unease gnawed at him as his eyes flicked back to the smiling mage. His gaze briefly scanned the rest of the hound extermination crew, noticing that all of them were watching him—except for Scott, whose intense focus seemed locked on the ship.

Daiki’s frown deepened. What is he looking at? His thoughts faltered as he caught sight of the unnaturally dark shadows surrounding Scott. His breath hitched. Are my eyes playing tricks on me? He blinked rapidly, then looked up—and froze in shock.

Inky black patches had appeared, swirling around the sides of the ship like a sinister aura. How could they cast such a formation without me noticing? Panic surged through him. I can’t let anything happen to Suni.

As Daiki’s gaze lowered back to Orion, the mix of fury and helplessness in his expression was impossible to hide.

"I like that look in your eyes," Orion teased, his grin never faltering. "Makes me almost wish you’d try lunging at me."

Daiki clenched his fists but didn’t move. His eyes stayed locked on the mage. "I apologize for being rude earlier," he said, his voice low and controlled. "Everything I said was the truth… but I held back on matters concerning the cult. Since you are foreigners from another timeline, I see no harm in telling you more."

Orion tilted his head, intrigued, as Daiki continued. "Our leader, the brilliant Crimson Sun, was killed a couple of years ago, and the succession process has been accelerated in his absence. We don’t have time to waste, which is why we need you gone. The cult cannot afford a confrontation, not now."

The cultivator returned to his previous position, then continued, “I won’t bore you with the illustrious history of the cult. However, a powerful entity such as ours has accumulated its fair share of enemies over the years. We’ve resisted them, but now and then, some daredevil seeking fame comes along. Unfortunately, this time, our successor was caught in a battle between foreign entities with absurd strength. News of his death hasn’t been made public yet, and the cult is in a rush to appoint a new successor.” Daiki paused, gesturing toward the nihilistic portals enveloping the ship.

“A candidate for succession is on that vessel. I came voluntarily to ensure she had enough time to escape, should your group turn out to be... radical,” he explained. “That’s the truth.”

“What an interesting tale,” Orion muttered, nodding as his thoughts raced. “Has your cult identified the foreigners who killed your leader?”

Daiki shook his head. “Sadly, it’s a humiliation we continue to endure.”

“How sure are you that it wasn’t one of the other six sects?” Plume interjected.

“It couldn’t be,” Orion replied. “If it were them, they would’ve wiped out the Crimson Sun entirely. Too much effort for too little gain.”

“Then it’s likely someone from another timeline,” Ember added, crossing her arms.

“That seems to be the case,” Orion agreed, then turned his focus toward Scott. “How strong is he?” he asked mentally.

“In terms of combat, I can’t say for sure, but his current level is beneath ours, except for Plume’s,” Scott answered without hesitation.

Orion sighed. “It’s hard to gauge how powerful their cult leader was with so little data,” he muttered privately.

While the hound extermination crew deliberated, Daiki’s voice echoed again. “We know for certain that they were foreigners because they escaped through a spatial gateway.”

The crew’s discussion halted, and all eyes turned to the cultivator, especially Orion. “Oh? How do you know that?” he asked.

“We examined the souls of the dead left behind,” Daiki revealed.

Apart from Scott and Orion, the others’ expressions shifted. Slim, in particular, looked intrigued as he stared at the beastman.

“What did you find?” Orion asked, his curiosity piqued.

“As I said, our successor was an unfortunate casualty in the clash between these foreign entities. From the memories of those who observed and perished during the bout, the main culprit was a giant of a man with a disturbing obsession with teeth. Another had the ability to control jewels. The last one... well, he appeared far less remarkable but instilled the greatest fear in the dead, particularly with his ominous yellow eyes,” Daiki explained.

This time, Scott’s expression darkened, though Orion continued to smile. Although Scott couldn’t identify the first two figures, he was certain the description of the last one pointed to Hurly’s presence in this timeline.

“And who were they fighting?” Orion asked, eager for more information.

“That much we do know,” Daiki replied, his features twisted with disgust. “The inheritor of that cursed title—Saki, the first Plague of the South, and the current Eidolon of Envy.”