The Only Way

“Welcome back on your journey home, the thirteenth.”

There was far too much information packed into that single sentence, sending a chill straight down Lynch’s spine.

It had been eight days since he came to this world, and this was the first time anyone had ever detected Lady Luna's presence. Coupled with how he had been schemed against for no apparent reason since before he even transmigrated, Lynch now strongly suspected whether the other party had known about the red moon from the very start. Perhaps they had specifically targeted him and subtly drawn him into this game precisely because they knew he was a transmigrator and knew about his neighbor relationship with Lady Red Moon.

But what truly unnerved Lynch was the way the entity had addressed him: the thirteenth.

He knew full well that he and Lady Luna were retracing the path of awakening, attempting to tread toward immortality once again. Lady Luna had also promised that when they reached the end, he would inherit the red moon's divine authority and become the thirteenth immortal.

Yet the offhand, casual attitude of the figure in the picture frame planted an uncontrollable doubt in Lynch’s mind.

Why did he seem so accustomed to this? Had the other twelve supreme existences been resurrected in the exact same manner, making it nothing to be surprised about?

But if that were true, what about the roles played by the other twelve "mes"? Why had no one ever mentioned them?

Could a role like "me" actually be something that had to be concealed, causing all traces of them to erase from historical records?

A single sentence from the shadow sent endless scalp-numbing thoughts racing through Lynch's mind. Once the seed of doubt was planted, its growth often became impossible to control. In an instant, various misgivings flickered through his head again and again. He knew the lady inside his mind could sense his thoughts, yet those stray, chaotic doubts bubbled up uncontrollably anyway. If not for the dire situation at hand, he would have loved to demand a detailed explanation from the lady in his head.

But for now... he had to set it aside. At the very least, he needed to deal with the dark figure before him and the evil god behind him first.

Lynch realized he was facing an utterly terrifying opponent. A simple greeting had nearly shattered the trust he had built up over the past few days.

Lynch coughed dryly, reining in his turbulent emotions. He noticed that the dark shadow inside the frame had transformed into a portrait of a young man sitting upright and solemn.

It was the exact man he had seen a few days ago at Maya's log cabin—the mastermind behind the events at the Randall residence.

“Good evening, my friends. Your use of this picture frame means you have already reached Zur Baha Sahr and discovered Charles Finit’s relics. That is much faster than we anticipated.”

The portrait of the formally dressed gentleman inside the frame moved with smooth, animated fluidity, removing his hat and bowing slightly, a restrained and sinister smile gracing his face.

“Your performance has been remarkable—as expected of the thirteenth’s target. We certainly did not pick wrong when choosing you as our tool. Heh, I hope you manage to stay alive, and live even longer.”

Lynch clenched his fists tightly, then slowly released them. The anger accumulated from their previous two encounters flared up once more, but indulging in rage now would merely be powerless fury, serving no purpose other than making himself a laughingstock. Thus, Lynch merely responded with a calm, cold sneer, staring indifferently at the portrait.

“What on earth is your goal? You’ve been plotting this since twenty years ago.”

It was Miss Valente who called out in a stern voice, her tone carrying the unmistakable authority of a noble leader.

“That is not a question you should be asking, Miss Valente. You ought to know us well by now; the Shadow Alliance naturally has its own goals, but we have never revealed them before they are accomplished. Therefore, I will not answer your question, hehe.” The portrait smiled like a living human and spoke in a deep voice. “As for today, do not forget that you were the ones who sought me out. I imagine you must have encountered the exact same dilemma as Charles.”

“You’re Mr. Black Spider?” Lynch narrowed his eyes and pressed further. “The same person from twenty years ago?”

“Heh... You ask far too many questions, Mr. Levive.” The portrait’s smile vanished, though it quickly regained its calm. “That’s right. I am Mr. Black Spider of the Shadow Alliance. We were the ones who hired Charles to carry out the mission twenty years ago. Now that you have encountered Charles’s predicament, I don’t mind giving you the answer and letting you complete the task he left unfinished.”

Miss Valente sneered. “Complete the task for you?”

“You are free to refuse, of course. You can do whatever you like; I don’t mind either way. Heh, we never force anyone to work for us.” Mr. Black Spider’s portrait spread its hands, speaking in a mocking tone. “After all, I’m not the one trying to destroy Mordiggian’s avatar. Even if he truly descends, it won’t affect me.”

Lynch sighed, realizing the opponent held the upper hand in this round. There was no point in dwelling on it, so he immediately changed the subject: “Then let’s hear it first. What exactly was the problem Charles ran into?”

“Heh, Mr. Levive, you intentionally avoided mentioning the specific dilemma he encountered. It seems you are unwilling to trust our integrity. In truth, we in the Shadow Alliance never falsify information. The intelligence we provide is always genuine, which is why those clients are willing to deal with us even when they know we have ulterior motives. But no matter—I don’t mind your probing. Charles was unable to destroy Mordiggian’s avatar because he simply didn’t understand the nature of an avatar.”

Lynch raised an eyebrow and exchanged a glance with Miss Valente. “He must have been an experienced expert. He said himself that it wasn’t his first time facing an avatar of an evil god.”

“Indeed. An honorary consultant of the Archaeological Association, a pitiful rank seven expert, yet no one knows which ancient ruin he vanished in. His body was never even found, and to this day he remains listed as a missing person in the register of the Friedman Archaeological Association.” Mr. Black Spider chuckled coldly. “He had indeed participated twice in battles against avatars of Great Old Ones, yet he still failed to comprehend the true nature of an avatar.”

“Hm?”

“Great Old Ones have true bodies, but their avatars do not. A sleeping avatar of an evil god is merely a conceptual existence. What you see is merely the image manifested in your own consciousness by the concept of that avatar. Unless you possess the ability to destroy a specific concept, you cannot destroy the thing before you—because, in essence, it doesn't exist at all. You have nothing to destroy.”

It was a bizarre theory, but in the world of the occult, it sounded somewhat plausible. Lynch glanced at Miss Valente beside him, a scholar of the occult, and saw her nod in agreement. “That is indeed possible.”

Lynch pressed on, confused, “Then what about the two times he fought avatars before?”

“When an avatar awakens from its slumber, the nature of its existence changes from a concept to a physical entity. The avatars Charles fought in the past were all awakened ones. In truth, a sleeping avatar is virtually impossible for mortals to encounter—Zur Baha Sahr is an exception.”

Miss Valente asked reflexively, “Is there any way to solve it?”

“It’s simple. Excavate Zur Baha Sahr, or delay the sacrifices until his avatar is startled awake.”

“Is there no other way? What was the method Mr. Finit mentioned that required multiple people to execute?”

The corner of Miss Valente’s mouth twitched slightly. Setting aside how many lives it would cost and how high the risk was, even if it were feasible, it was completely meaningless to them. They had entered more than two months ahead of schedule; they couldn't possibly wait around under Mordiggian’s corruption until it woke up. Moreover, Elder Nikolai outside had no idea what was happening inside; once the time came, he would certainly carry out the subsequent sacrificial rituals.

The portrait’s mouth suddenly curled upward into a bizarre smile, its voice dripping with unmistakable amusement.

“There is indeed one other way. Heh, offer your own body to Mordiggian’s avatar and become the vessel that hosts it. At that point, though it remains asleep, it will possess a physical form.” Mr. Black Spider laughed with intense malice, thoroughly delighted. “Then it will wake up very quickly. But as long as you kill its vessel before it awakens, its avatar will be destroyed, and your goal will be—”

Clack. Lynch slammed the picture frame face-down onto the ground, but he still couldn't stop the voice from emanating from within.

“Hehehe, how rude, Mr. Levive. But I can assure you, this is absolutely the only feasible method. Poor Charles was far too overconfident, barging in here alone, unable to execute the method even though he knew it. Now... it’s all up to you two. Hahaha.”