The sky above the Morey Earldom was forcibly torn open that morning by an unnatural, milky-white brilliance.

  Heavy banks of clouds were pushed aside like curtains by the prows of three massive aerial frigates. These vessels, engraved with shimmering golden cross-heraldry, trailed long wakes of crystalline light as they glided over the North District. From their hulls hung massive bronze bells that emitted a low-frequency hum. Every resonance sent a rhythmic throb of dread through the souls of the commoners below, whose bodies were already ravaged by the mineral toxins of the mines.

  The Holy Cross Church: The Knights of Penitence.

  These "Blades of the Divine," who usually existed only in the gilded pages of scripture, descended three days after the Old Earl's "illness" with a terrifying, indisputable presence.

  Leading them was Inquisitor Castille. He wore a sacrificial robe of pure white silk, a cross forged of Saint-Silver hanging from his neck. His sapphire-blue eyes held no warmth; he didn't look at the world as a living thing, but as a collection of stray lambs to be either sheared or slaughtered.

  "This place reeks of desecration," Castille said, standing on the balcony of the manor and looking down at the mine. His nostrils flared as if he could literally smell the hidden, entropic scent of Del buried beneath miles of rock.

  Behind him stood twelve Iron Wardens clad in heavy mithril plate armor. Faint Saint-Light rippled along the edges of their massive greatswords—weapons tempered in holy water, specifically designed to dissolve shadow energies and heretical biology.

  "Lord Earl," Castille turned to look at Allen Morey, who stood to the side. "The Church’s intuition suggests this mine has become a nursery for malefic spirits. We require a total 'Soul Purification' of every miner and the immediate handover of the North District's defense grid."

  Allen’s face was a mask of stoic compliance. He bowed with a grace that was technically perfect. "Lord Inquisitor, House Morey has always followed the Light. However, the North District is in a critical phase of production recovery. A mass purification would stall the gears of our economy."

  "That is a matter for the Divine. My duty is to pull the weeds," Castille interrupted, his tone as arrogant as it was cold.

  Allen lowered his gaze, concealing the flicker of mockery in his pupils. He could feel the Black Sand Anchor in his chest pulsing with heat—a signal from Del through their mental link: "Let them search. Bring them to the very bottom."

  Deep within the subterranean heart of Black Wind City, Del was experiencing a state of profound sublimation.

  Following the consumption of the Morey Ancestral Essence, the third-stage analysis of the 【Black Buddha Origin】 had surged past the 85% mark. Del was no longer surrounded by a simple pressure field; he was the center of a literal "Black Domain."

  Any stray dust particles entering within five meters of his body were instantly annihilated as their molecular structures collapsed under the sheer density of his presence.

  "Saint-Light?" Del slowly opened his eyes, a cruel, cold smile tugging at his lips.

  In his perception, the thirteen auras of holy energy on the surface were as blinding as torches in a midnight forest. It was a power diametrically opposed to the Black Buddha—ordered, exclusive, and saturated with a suffocating arrogance.

  "Chip, calculate the peak energy output of their holy array."

  [Deep Scan Initiated: Target: 'Shackles of the Word' Array carried by the Knights. Attribute: Divine. Core Mechanism: Stripping non-natural energy through high-frequency oscillation. Warning: This energy possesses a natural 'suppression' effect against the Host’s Black Sand Qi. However, in the presence of the Phase 3 【Siphon Seed】, this relationship may undergo an 'Inversion'.]

  "Suppression?" Del stood up. Because his control over gravity was now microscopic, his footsteps made no sound against the rock. "In this world, 'suppression' is just a term for a predator that hasn't finished its meal."

  He walked out of his meditation room to find his Black Sand followers gathered. Their internal anchors were reacting to the holy threat above, their bodies twitching with instinctive revulsion.

  "Be patient, my children," Del’s voice echoed through the cavern, carrying a hypnotic weight. "The messengers of heaven have brought 'gifts'. Their Saint-Light shall be the sacrifice that elevates Black Wind City to its next state."

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  Inquisitor Castille, surrounded by his Iron Wardens, stepped into the oppressive atmosphere of the lower shafts.

  Allen led the way, carrying a dim magical lantern. As they went deeper, the purple mineral fog grew thicker, but within a three-meter radius of Castille, the toxins were forcibly burned away by the radiance of his aura, letting out a hungry, sizzling sound of dissolution.

  "This filth... it is a wonder these low-born miners didn't all rot weeks ago," Castille said, wrinkling his nose in disgust. "It seems the heretic here has some skill in using these toxins to enslave souls."

  He stopped and reached into his robe, pulling out a golden crystal orb.

  "Open the Shackles of the Word."

  As he began his chant, the twelve Iron Wardens fanned out into a star-shaped formation. They slammed their Saint-Silver swords into the ground. Suddenly, a blinding, absolute white brilliance erupted from the crystal, surging through the tunnels like a tidal wave of fire.

  This light was not for illumination. It was a high-density scanning net. Any shadow energy hidden in the cracks of the rocks or within the marrow of the workers would explode upon contact with this frequency.

  "AH—!"

  Nearby, several Black Sand members collapsed, groaning as the Qi in their veins began to boil under the holy light. Black veins writhed beneath their skin like trapped serpents.

  "Found you," Castille smiled with the cold certainty of a victor. "The source of the rot is just below!"

  He gestured violently, and the holy light condensed into a gargantuan war-hammer, which slammed into the seemingly solid rock wall at the end of the tunnel.

  BOOM—!

  The wall disintegrated, revealing a massive, man-made hall of darkness. At the center of the hall, a youth sat alone on a throne carved from raw black crystal. He wore no armor, only a simple black robe, his posture as relaxed as if he were watching the sun set in a garden.

  "Welcome to Black Wind City," Del said, his voice flat and terrifyingly calm.

  "HERETIC!" Castille roared, the holy array beneath his feet surging to its limit. The white energy swept toward Del like a tsunami of divine wrath, intending to vaporize him into ash.

  But then, the impossible happened.

  The holy wave, capable of evaporating a High-Tier demon, slammed into an invisible wall three meters from Del. Instead of an explosion, the light was "folded." The space itself was warped. The straight lines of the holy light began to spiral, drawn into a vortex of gravity. The heat and the divine attributes were compressed so tightly that the pure white light turned a sickly, bruised shade of dark grey.

  "This is your 'Shackle'?"

  Del stood up. His eyes were now absolute voids—no iris, no white, just an unending abyss.

  "Too light. The power of your god is remarkably cheap."

  Del took a single step forward.

  【Black Buddha Art: True Extreme - Sanctuary of Pressure】

  Woom—!

  In that heartbeat, Castille felt the weight of the entire world settle onto his shoulders. The Saint-Silver tiles beneath the knights' feet shattered instantly. The twelve Iron Wardens didn't even have time to scream before they were crushed by a gravitational force fifty times that of the surface.

  Their mithril plate armor groaned and buckled, twisting into jagged scrap metal. The defense that could stop high-level spells was like tissue paper before the raw physics of gravity. The knights were flattened into the earth, blood spraying from the seams of their helmets as their internal organs were pulverized.

  "You... how can a mortal control gravity!" Castille fell to his knees, his bones clicking and snapping. He frantically channeled his Saint-power to resist the crush.

  "Gravity?" Del walked to the kneeling Inquisitor and looked down at him. "No. This is merely a side-effect of the 【Siphon Seed】 compressing the space around you."

  Del reached out and pressed a finger against Castille’s forehead.

  The Siphon Seed roared at full power. The holy energy within Castille found a vacuum and rushed into Del’s fingertip. To Del, this "holy" energy was just high-density fuel. Though the attributes were opposite, once ground and reconstructed by the Black Buddha Origin, it became the perfect nutrient for evolution.

  "Chip, harvest the Divine Essence. Complete the final 5% of the analysis."

  [Loading: 96%... 98%... 100%! Analysis Absolute!! 【Black Buddha Origin - Phase 3: Nirvana Pressure】 Fully Awakened. Derived Trait Unlocked: 【Light-Shadow Consumption】—Allows the seamless conversion of Holy attributes into Black Sand Qi.]

  As the analysis hit 100%, a massive, shadowy figure of the Black Buddha manifested in the void behind Del. The colossus looked down with half-closed eyes, one hand in a mudra, the other pressing downward—an aura of desolation and absolute dominion.

  In that moment, every living being in the Earldom felt a shiver in their marrow.

  Castille’s body withered in seconds. His soul, claimed to be an "Avatar of Light," couldn't survive the siphon for even a second.

  "Since you enjoy 'purification' so much," Del whispered, "I shall let this earth keep your remains."

  With a wave of his hand, the mangled remains of the Wardens and the Inquisitor were ground into organic dust, vanishing into the soil of Black Wind City.

  The Saint-Light died.

  The mine returned to its eternal darkness, but within that dark, a power far deeper and more terrifying was breaking out of its cocoon.

  Allen stood at the entrance, watching his Master’s god-like silhouette. He dropped to one knee, his voice shaking with fanatical reverence.

  "Congratulations, Master. The Origin is Absolute."

  Del turned around. The obsidian texture of his skin had vanished, leaving him looking like an ordinary, unpowered youth—a state of returning to one's true nature.

  "Allen, bring the resources from those frigates down here. We need to accelerate the construction."

  Del looked up through the miles of rock, his gaze piercing the distance toward the distant High Cathedral at the center of the Empire.