I instantly willed the Window to reveal the source of the surge.

The cavern itself trembled. Pebbles jumped across the stone floor, fine cracks creeping through the walls as dust rained down. The battlefield shifted with it. The monsters shrieked louder, their voices ragged, frantic, as if the presence alone unsettled them.

The Velmoryn did not falter. If anything, the frontline pressed harder, blades and shields driving forward in the chaos, desperate to turn the unease of their enemies into advantage.

At the center of the Blue Tribe's line, Akrion stood with Dariel. Dariel's body blazed with a dim green light, the last remnants of the healing potion's aura burning through him. His face was pale, sweat streaming, yet his expression was completely calm.

Next to him, Akrion was missing two fingers, blood dripping onto the small metal disk etched with the half-moon sigil.

The disk pulsed. It shuddered in Akrion's hand like something alive, and from its edges the darkness spilled. Shadows stretched unnaturally across stone, thick and heavy, swallowing the light coming from the torches and mana orbs alike. Then came the violet - thin veins breaking through black, growing. With each pulse the light got brighter, wider, until the disk no longer looked like metal but a gateway torn open.

Akrion didn't flinch. The wound on his hand meant nothing. His lips curled into a smirk, his eyes fixed on the growing portal as violet streaks lashed outward, lightning snapping in the air.

The wind came next, violent and circling. It ripped through the suffocating miasma that had been choking the Velmoryn, scattering it like smoke in a storm. The monsters got even slower, as if robbed of the oppressive aura that had been feeding them.

Then the portal tore fully open.

Out of it stepped a bare foot, wrapped in dark leather. Another followed, and then the figure emerged whole - tall, lean, wearing blackened leather clothes adorned with threads the same crimson as the stitches on his eyes. A robe hung loose over his shoulders, inside of which seemed to be as dark as a void. His lids stayed closed, but his presence left no doubt he saw everything.

He was a human.

He smiled. Not with warmth or courtesy, but with the curl of superiority, a grin that radiated disgust for all who stood before him. One hand rose slowly, fingers dragging back through his jet-black hair, smoothing it with unhurried confidence.

"Father accepts your offering," he said, his head turning toward Akrion.

The Blue Tribe's Vael twitched, words dying on his lips. He looked lost, and for a moment I felt the same.

When the man stepped through the portal I recognized him instantly: the red stitches across sealed eyes, the foul aura that bled outward, the half-moon medallion at his throat. The appearance was simply too similar to Elisabeth's. An inquisitor. Here, in my forest.

I had not expected the Father of Night and Moons to send someone so prominent. Not because I imagined he feared me. If anything, I had assumed the opposite; this god likely knew or suspected that I was no almighty deity. But the system was the one he must've been wary of. A mere Silver Rank Avenor had already triggered a red warning when he entered the nest. If that notification had warned me about Avenor, an inquisitor serving the god of moons and night would be a far greater provocation. There was no way this man was Silver Rank. He was a Gold at least, perhaps Platinum. The system would judge his presence as a more serious violation than Avenor's had been.

Still, I did not let my thoughts scatter.

Since he was able to enter the forest, at most he is Platinum Rank.

I didn't doubt that my believers weren't powerful enough to handle Platinum Rank, but they would not have to. If the system restrained Moon God's direct interference the way it had restrained mine, then this inquisitor would be limited too. If he relied on borrowed power the same way Elisabeth had, then his strength would be little more than a leash. His god would be unable to intervene directly, unable to let him wield divine power recklessly within this monster nest and perhaps in my forest.

But even if it came to the worst, I had another option thanks to Pintre. I could pull him into my realm and force him into a contract that forbade hostility inside the forest, or banish him outright. That would draw penalties for sure, but I judged them preferable to outright killing him and inviting harsher punishment from whatever enforcement the system decided to grant. My Divine Kingdom was my last trump, the measure I would use only if I had no other choice. I was not eager to discover exactly how severe the system's punishment might be.

But before everything else, I needed information about the inquisitor and the Father of Night and Moons.

Guidance.

[Warning]

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

Using Guidance on a mortal sentient belonging to another god is prohibited. Proceeding will reveal part of your information to the other god, and penalties may apply.

I can't risk it. The information I'd get won't be worth the price I'd have to pay.

I hated being forced into passivity, watching rather than acting. Still, I had anticipated this. The gods of this world were shackled, barred from shaping the mortal realm too strongly, at least not by direct means. And luckily, I had prepared for that.

While the Inquisitor had definitely made matters more complicated, it still was not enough to truly shake me or unravel my plans.

"How may I address you?" Akrion asked, lowering his head. Dariel's eyes widened at once. A few of the Velmoryn exchanged uncertain glances, shoulders stiffening as they struggled to understand why their Vael had bowed.

"You may call me Eralon," the man replied, raising his head high, though the effect fell flat. Every Velmoryn present, especially Akrion, was taller than him by at least two heads.

"Now," Eralon continued, "we must first clear this nest and then speak of the second part of…" His words cut off abruptly. His face twisted, pale skin flushing as if fever had seized him. His mouth pulled into a grimace, lips curling tight.

"Are you well, Eralon?" Akrion asked, unease seeping through his voice. The Inquisitor's mention of a "second part" had already unsettled him, and now the sight of the man convulsing made him take a step forward, shoulders taut.

It was obvious now. Akrion had some agreement, perhaps even a divine contract, with the God of Moons and Night. But there was nothing I could do about it yet.

I will wait until the raid ends first. Then I'll drag Akrion into my realm before he can act.

For the time being, I would accept the presence of the rival god. If it spared Velmoryn lives, I could stomach it.

Eralon's color returned gradually, the unnatural flush fading until his skin was ghostly white once more. But something had changed. The arrogance in his bearing dimmed; the sharp edge of his voice dulled.

Without another word, he pulled up his sleeve and bared his right arm. Upon the skin lay a circular mark of runes, etched in symmetry. I could not read it or understand its meaning, but the moment he channeled mana into it, violet light bled through the lines and the air in front of him distorted as a new portal formed.

Threads of energy spun outward, weaving in a circle. This time the portal did not shine violet - it darkened, swallowing light, a void ringed by slow-moving threads. No winds stirred, no sound rang out. Only the faint rotation of the threads betrayed its existence.

"I summon thee!" Eralon shouted, voice full of excitement. Blood welled from the red stitches across his eyes, running down in thin lines. "Answer my call, servants of the God of Night and Moons!"

Nothing happened.

Yet Dariel reacted instantly. The hair along his arms bristled, his jaw tightened, and his beastly fangs bared as instinct forced its way to the surface. The others around him, however, stood unbothered.

Then the nest stirred.

From the dark center of the portal came a sound - wet drags scraped across the stone, until the noise swelled into a surge. Shapes spilled from the void. Black bodies shoved against one another as they forced their way forward. They crawled and lurched in a blind rush, a mass that moved toward the pulsing creature at the heart of the nest.

I tried using Guidance on one of them.

[Creature of Darkness]

A being created by the God of Night, dwelling within shadows. No physical attack can wound or destroy it.

Additional information may alert the god whose power sustains it. Would you like to proceed?

So it's either magic or divine power that can kill these creatures…

I observed the grotesque yet mesmerizing sight through Window. Dozens of dark shapes poured forward, their outlines warped beyond recognition, tearing through the swarm of spider mutants effortlessly. Monsters that had stood against Velmoryn only moments ago were torn apart into pieces. The ease of it made me worried. If Eralon turned these things against Velmoryn once the nest was cleared… would my believers stand a chance?

But then I saw the Inquisitor. His body was failing. His right arm stretched forward, wrist turned upward, the rune carved there burning violet as his other hand hovered above it, trembling with the strain of channeling mana. Blood streamed from his stitched eyes in unbroken lines, soaking into his pale cheeks and dripping from his chin. It wasn't stopping, if anything the flow seemed stronger.

He can't maintain this spell long. And even if he does, he'll be wide open for a sudden strike…

I was already weighing how to kill a human being. And when I caught myself… I felt nothing. No disgust. No hesitation. Just calculation.

"Attack, you useless idiots," Eralon spat..

Several Velmoryn stiffened. Those not of the Blue Tribe bristled at his tone, some half-turning toward him as if to answer.

But before they could, the cavern shook.

A shockwave rolled through, raw mana sweeping past like the echo of thunder. Dust burst upward in a wall, small stones rattled free from the ceiling, pelting down on armor and bare skin. Velmoryn staggered, some dropping flat as their footing gave way.

At the center of the nest, the pale spiders broke. They abandoned their positions and sprinted as one toward the Mother. Their legs moved so quickly that they blurred as they formed a living wall around the creature in the heart of the nest.

And then they shrieked.

The swarm shifted again. Spider mutants charged to intercept the creatures of darkness before they could reach the Mother.

But none of it was what made the air turn heavy.

Above the Mother, three vast diagrams began to bloom, each curve burning a venomous green. They pulsed once, then held their shape in perfect silence.

The Mother had finally decided to show its powers.

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