They navigated several forks in the corridor before coming to a halt in front of a pitch-black door carved with arcane, twisting patterns. Duke Alaric pushed it open and gestured for Eros to follow.

  The door groaned shut behind them. Eros scanned the room; it was vast but sparsely furnished—just a table, a few chairs, and a massive bookshelf tucked into the corner.

  As he turned his gaze toward the books, the titles suddenly blurred. The spines began to warp into slithering, grotesque tentacles, writhing rhythmically. Simultaneously, a chorus of hair-raising whispers erupted in his ears, like thousands of voices chanting secrets just out of reach.

  Eros swallowed hard, clenching his fists to keep from screaming. Just then, a sharp cough echoed beside him.

  Instantly, the whispers vanished. He looked back at the bookshelf; the books were perfectly normal again, their colorful spines neatly aligned as if the eldritch horror he’d just witnessed was nothing more than a fever dream.

  Eros knew better. He looked at his father, his eyes demanding an explanation.

  "You didn't imagine it," Alaric said, his voice echoing in the quiet room. "What you saw and heard is part of what I must teach you: the Forbidden Knowledge buried beneath the lies of civilization."

  As the Duke spoke, a terrifying new world order began to take shape in Eros’s mind.

  Gods existed. Real, living entities. For Eras, the Nine Great Churches had dominated the Croatian Continent. Their deities styled themselves as "Orthodox Gods," looking down upon the mortal kingdoms from their celestial thrones. Beneath them were smaller churches with lesser gods, often branded as "False Deities" or "Heretics" and purged by the Nine.

  But as Alaric continued, Eros noticed a sharp edge of disdain—even hostility—in his father’s tone toward these so-called Orthodox Gods.

  It was baffling. His family had always been "devout" followers of the God of Death and Reincarnation. They donated astronomical sums and held grand festivals. Was it all a facade?

  "Father," Eros chose his words carefully, "you don't seem to hold much... respect for the Gods."

  In a world of Divine Right, such an attitude was a one-way ticket to the executioner's block.

  Alaric’s lip curled into a sneer. "Respect? They are nothing but a pack of Betrayers masquerading as divinity."

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  Eros caught the scent of a massive historical scandal. "Betrayers? Who did they betray?"

  "Our Ancestor—the Goddess of the Night. She was once their peer, their companion. Two of them were even her students." Alaric’s voice trembled with ancient rage. "But they turned on her. They used vile conspiracies to murder her and devoured her divinity, using her stolen essence to ascend as the most powerful beings in this world."

  "However, a Great One like our Ancestor cannot be truly erased. Before her fall, she left a prophecy: She shall return."

  "When the Betrayers learned of this, they were struck with terror. They branded her a 'Dark Goddess' and began a relentless slaughter of her followers and her bloodline, hoping to wipe her from memory and block her path back to life."

  Alaric’s voice shifted from anger to a heavy, crushing sorrow. Eros stood frozen.

  "For tens of thousands of years," Alaric whispered, "we have lived in the shadows. The most noble bloodline in history is now hunted as the 'Remnants of the Night,' scurrying like rats in a gutter."

  Eros felt a cold sweat breaking out on his forehead. Great. I’ve started the game at war with the nine most powerful organizations in the world.

  A vendetta spanning millennia? That wasn't just a challenge; that was Hell Mode. He briefly wondered if it was too late to request a reincarnation refund.

  Noticing his son’s pallor, Alaric offered a grim consolation. "Don't worry. We are safe for now. Three hundred years ago, our ancestors made a desperate choice. They split the family in two. One half sacrificed themselves as a distraction, allowing the other half to 'infiltrate' the churches."

  "The plan worked. Even the Nine would never guess that their mortal enemies are hiding right under their noses, serving as their most 'devout' noble house."

  Eros had to admit, it was a brilliant counter-move. The best place to hide a leaf is in the forest. To the Church, the North family was a model of piety—donating gold and praising the gods while secretly sharpening their knives in the dark.

  "But don't they have ways to find us?" Eros asked. "With magic and literal gods, surely there are divinations or powers that can sniff out a heretic?"

  "Our Ancestor held the domain of Secrecy," Alaric explained. "Once our bloodline undergoes the Baptism, we awaken an ability called 'Servant of Secrecy.' Combined with the artifacts the Goddess left behind, the Church cannot find us unless we reveal ourselves."

  "The Baptism?" Eros zeroed in on the keyword.

  "Yes. Only through the Baptism can one truly step through the gates of the supernatural. That is why I brought you here today."

  Alaric gestured to the room. "This realm was forged by the Ancestor herself and is shrouded in her power. Here, we can speak the names of the Betrayers without them sensing us, and here, you shall undergo your initiation."

  "And after that? I'm a mage?"

  Alaric shook his head and led Eros out of the room, talking as they walked.

  "The Baptism only makes you a Sequence 9: Mystery Pryer. If you wish to promote to Sequence 8: Listener, or Sequence 7: Light Seeker, you must find and accommodate more 'Spirit' on your own."

  "How many Sequences are there?"

  "Ten in total. Even the Imperial Family of the Chris Empire only possesses the pathways from Sequence 9 to 4. Most nobles cap out at Sequence 5. Aside from the Great Churches, only we possess a Complete Pathway to the top."

  Eros felt a heavy weight on his shoulders. So, we’re not just 'rats' in the gutter; we’re rats carrying a massive gold bar. His future felt more precarious than ever.