Seeing the other party hesitate, Isolde suddenly spoke up:
“Hey! Do you want to get out of here?”
The black-clothed figure turned to look at her, his heterochromatic eyes filled with scrutiny. “You really have a way?”
“I do.”
“Why should I trust you?”
“You don't have to trust me.” Isolde raised her hand, winding a Soul Thread around her wrist. “You just need to trust this.”
She tossed the other end of the thread to him, saying with an unchanged expression, “I'm giving you my Natal Soul Thread. If I make a move against you, you can pull this thread at any time, and my soul will be torn apart first.”
This was, of course, a lie.
The Soul Thread was her absolute creation; there was no way it could ever backlash against its master.
She only did this to lower his guard so he would have the patience to listen to her finish.
After all, she could sense that although the black-clothed figure before her was dangerous, when it came to scheming, he wasn't particularly bright.
The black-clothed figure stared at the silver thread in his hand, his eyes darkening slightly.
“You're willing to hand me this kind of leverage?”
“Of course I am.” Isolde's eyes crinkled as her gaze fell meaningfully onto the shadow beneath his feet. “Because I can just as easily use the Soul Thread in your hand to shred your soul to pieces.”
This was also a lie.
She had secretly analyzed him; the black-clothed figure seemed to coexist with his shadow as one, and his speed was eerily fast.
If they were to truly engage in a life-or-death struggle in this place where she lacked the home advantage, she would hardly stand a chance.
However, as long as she bluffed a little, the black-clothed figure probably wouldn't dare act rashly after witnessing her intelligence stat of over 100.
Looking at the silver glow wrapped around his fingertips, the black-clothed figure's voice held a hint of hesitation. “This sounds like mutual destruction.”
“This is the highest state of cooperation,” Isolde said with solemn gravity. “Neither of us needs to pretend to be a good person, and neither of us needs to talk about loyalty. It's much simpler to lay our blades on the table and talk.”
The black-clothed figure weighed the pros and cons before finally nodding. “So, what is your plan?”
“Answering in reverse.”
With a flick of her finger, the silver thread drew an arc through the void, bypassing the fragmented light scattering beneath the Mooncrown Lock.
“It says it requires 'sacrificing one soul,' but it never specified that it had to be one of us.”
The black-clothed figure's gaze fell upon the Mooncrown Lock. From deep within the fragmented light, the faint sound of prayers drifted out.
He seemed to suddenly understand. “Do you... want to use the remnant souls inside the lock that were sacrificed long ago?”
“Smart.” Isolde's smile widened. “It just pretended to be a unicorn to trick me into offering forgiveness, and now it's setting a trap to induce us to slaughter each other. The examiner is definitely sitting right inside the exam room, stealthily watching everything unfold.”
Before her voice could fade, Isolde abruptly activated her 【Soul-Binding Thread】, sending the silver strands plunging into the seemingly bright shadow of the Mooncrown Lock.
The void shuddered as a translucent orb of light was dragged out by her.
The humanoid remnant soul wore a grayish-white ritual robe. It had no facial features, and a small imprint of the Mooncrown Lock hung prominently on its chest.
【Inverse Radiance Shadow-Folding】
Isolde forcefully folded a portion of her own power into the remnant soul's body.
In the next second, the remnant soul actually began to exude a soul aura identical to Isolde's.
Surprised by her actions, the black-clothed figure took a step forward to confirm. “You disguised your own aura onto it?”
“Exactly.” Isolde looked up, her smile breezy and calm. “Now the Mooncrown Lock will think it is me.”
The black-clothed figure instantly grasped her scheme. “You want me to kill it?”
Hearing this rhetorical question, Isolde suddenly felt an unspeakable exhaustion.
She gritted her teeth and said irritably, “...Otherwise?”
“I went through all this trouble to fold my aura onto it, then dragged it before you like a dead dog, just to ask you to evaluate my soul-stitching craftsmanship?”
“Or do you think I'm so bored right now that I decided to perform a spell tutorial for you in this life-threatening trap?”
Stunned by her retort, the black-clothed figure paused. After a long moment, his voice actually carried a trace of inexplicable innocence:
“I just wanted to confirm your intentions.”
“Are you done confirming?”
“More or less.”
“Then do it!” Isolde glared at him. “If you dare ask another single word, I'll assume you're trying to stall for time to backstab me.”
Behind his mask, the black-clothed figure's lips seemed to purse, and his voice grew even quieter:
“Why did you suddenly get angry?”
Isolde turned her head mechanically to look at him. In that moment, she was genuinely struck speechless.
Does this guy have some kind of misunderstanding about the current atmosphere?
They were currently standing inside the Mooncrown Lock's sacrificial illusion. Above their heads was a rule of betrayal that could squeeze the marrow from their bones, beneath their feet was an awakening magic circle, and in front of them was a lock-spirit remnant soul that could mutate and devour its master at any second.
Yet, he was actually obsessing over why she had suddenly gotten angry?!
Isolde took a deep breath, forcefully suppressing the urge in her mind to "shove his head right into the keyhole."
“I. Am. Not. Angry,” she said, enunciating each word.
The black-clothed figure looked at her, somewhat stubbornly. “Your tone got harsher.”
“That's because I am currently overdrawing the absolute last bit of patience in my life.”
“But your expression looks like you want to kill me.”
“Congratulations, your judgment has finally gone online.”
The black-clothed figure seemed even more aggrieved.
“I just felt that your explanation earlier wasn't complete enough.”
The veins on Isolde's temples throbbed violently. She completely abandoned all restraint:
“Fine! Then I will explain it to you completely right now!”
She dragged the remnant soul forward like a chick, her finger pointing back and forth between the three of them:
“Me, I disguise it as me. You, you kill it. The Mooncrown Lock, it misidentifies the sacrifice successfully. Us, we break the array while the rules are in chaos. Do you understand now?”
The black-clothed figure nodded. “I understand.”
“Very good.” Isolde flashed an extremely menacing smile. “Now, shut your little, question-loving mouth and stab it—!”
The moment she finished speaking, a shadow blade appeared in the black-clothed figure's hand, piercing straight through the remnant soul's chest. The sheer force of the blow nearly snapped the Soul Thread Isolde was holding.
This guy didn't hesitate for a single second when delivering a fatal blow.
Just moments ago, he had been pestering her like a curious toddler about why she was angry, yet his speed with the blade was swifter and cleaner than anyone else's.
“Ah—!!”
The unformed remnant soul let out a piercing shriek. Immediately after, the runes in the center of the Mooncrown Lock lit up, erupting into a vast expanse of blinding blood-red light.
【Intent to harm detected.】
【Sacrificial act detected.】
【Target of sacrifice: Isolde.】
【Target of judgment: Six of Cups.】
The ethereal voice echoed over the ruins, and both of their movements froze instantly.
Of all the things she had calculated, Isolde had never expected this Mooncrown Lock to possess its own "True Name Vision," blaring out her deepest hidden name in public.
What surprised her even more was that this seemingly dim-witted black-clothed figure opposite her actually had such a peculiar name.
Six of Cups had clearly caught onto this piece of information as well.
He looked at her through the churning, blood-red fragmented light. His originally low, gender-ambiguous tone now carried a deliberately drawn-out playfulness and mockery.
“I really didn't expect... to meet you in this manner, Miss Isolde.”
He emphasized the name "Isolde" heavily, as if he had just picked up a massive bargaining chip from the mud to blackmail her, his tone laced with unvarnished smugness.
Yet, not a single crack showed on Isolde's ordinary face.
The more her trump cards were exposed, the less she could let him see that she cared.
She slowly raised her eyes, her tone even more steady and sarcastic than before:
“I also didn't expect the Black Tower's codenames to be so straightforward. According to the customs of my hometown, should I call you by a more intimate nickname—Old Six?”
Rate on N.U.
