I stared dumbfounded at Jackson's cheerful back as he blended into the dance floor. An indescribable chill rose from the depths of my heart.
Just half a minute ago, he was interrogating the musician with a serious face. Why would he suddenly change like this?
I couldn't sense any trace of magic at all! Not the slightest bit!
...Could it be that the power behind this has exceeded the limits of my perception?

As I stood frozen in fear, Darian beside me abruptly drew his ornate but impractical sword with a shing and leveled it at the brown-haired musician's neck.
The young lord's face was beaded with cold sweat, his breathing rapid, the hand holding the sword trembling slightly. But he glared fixedly at the musician and roared,
"Warlock! What have you done to Jackson?! Release the evil curse you've cast at once! Otherwise, in the name of House Goldflame, I shall execute you on the spot!"

The musician's face instantly paled. He raised his hands, trembling.
"You misunderstand, sir! This is no curse! Saqophigus!"
"What exactly is a 'Saq—'"
Seeing Darian was also about to utter that name, alarm bells rang loudly in my mind. I lunged forward and clamped my hand over his mouth.
"No, Young Master Darian! Sir Jackson started behaving strangely right after saying that name. There must be something suspicious about it!"
Darian jolted all over, his pupils contracting. He nodded, still shaken, then pushed my hand away, his breathing still ragged.
"You... you're right, young man. Sharp observation, well done... This musician... no, perhaps all the 'people' in this dance floor besides us are under some kind of... some kind of sorcery we cannot comprehend."
He forced himself to appear calm and pointed his sword at the musician again.
"Musician Karl, stand straight! Let me take a good look at you!"
"Y-Yes, sir!"

The musician hurriedly stood ramrod straight. I still couldn't sense any magical traces from him... so I can't use the third rune to silence him either.
Darian looked the musician up and down, then his eyes suddenly changed. He pressed the sword against the musician's abdomen and then forcefully jerked it upward, flipping the accordion aside.
Behind the instrument... was not flesh and blood.
But a hollow cavity.
A massive cavity that began just below the neck, ran through the entire chest, and extended almost to the navel.
Gleaming white ribs and dark red vascular tissue were exposed to the air, emitting a faint, coppery scent.
The wound looked unnervingly fresh, yet not a single drop of blood seeped from its edges, as if time, along with the blood, had completely solidified the moment the wound formed.
...Something only found in nightmares.
Am I really still conscious? Or... am I really still alive?
Am I really still conscious? Or... am I still alive? Is this really the real world?
My thoughts became as chaotic as runaway horses.
I bit my lip hard. The sharp pain and taste of blood forcibly dragged me back to reality.
Calm down! Must calm down! Learn from Mr. Wilson... learn from Sylvia... Gather information, analyze the situation, formulate a plan!
One thing is certain: this guy is already dead. Looking at it this way, are the others on the dance floor also...?

Darian let out a cry of alarm.
"Monster!"
Darian drove his sword into the musician's neck.
Yet, the wound still did not bleed.
Not only that, but Karl's face showed no expression of fear or pain. Instead, he once again revealed that gentle, bone-chilling smile.
Completely ignoring the fresh wound in his neck, even ignoring the fact that Darian's sword was still twisting inside amidst the grating of bone and tearing of tissue, he slowly turned his head back to face Lord Vitus and said in a gentle tone,
"Your Lordship, good afternoon. Thank you for your gracious presence. You have been watching us. Is there something about our performance that doesn't meet your satisfaction?"
Those were his exact first words upon meeting us!
"You... what are you saying?!"
Darian trembled all over, released the sword hilt, and retreated to my side. Karl then turned to where Jackson had originally been standing, winked at me, and continued,
"But of course! Isn't this young gentleman the 'star of the dance' who just won the competition and took the Horn of Plenty Cup home..."
Sunlight streamed down, ribbons fluttered gently. The only anomaly was that the Star God's emblem that had been carved into the stone seat of the high platform was gone, replaced by a twisted, unfamiliar black symbol.
Several well-dressed musicians with smiles on their faces stood by the stalls, leisurely playing accordions and violins. On the dance floor, many men and women who were strangers to each other held hands, faces wearing lively, cheerful expressions as they spun and leaped to the relaxed, pleasant melody.
The scene should have been peaceful, but I only felt a chill creeping from the marrow of my bones.
Sylvia wasn't here. Inside or outside the dance floor, I couldn't find her brilliant silver figure.
Where did she go? Could she also have...?
No, she's so strong; she's definitely fine! Maybe she discovered something and went elsewhere.
As I hesitated, a familiar voice came from beside me.
"Young man from the woods... is that you?"
I whirled around and saw three figures approaching...

His words were cut short mid-sentence by the searing roar of an explosion.
Vitus Goldflame, who had been silent until now, acted.
He made no superfluous movement, merely focused his gaze. A highly condensed fireball, radiating an aura of destruction, materialized out of thin air and blasted straight through Karl's head!
The musician's nose, mouth, and most of his face were instantly vaporized and blown away by the intense heat. His entire head burned fiercely in the flames like rotten wood.
Yet, even with only charred eye sockets remaining, they seemed to retain a trace of that clear, eerie smile.
He actually continued to speak in broken fragments using some organ from who-knows-where.
"Deca... pitated... dead... where..."
"Darian, Adam, step back."
The air beside me suddenly grew scorching hot; intense magical fluctuations made my skin prickle.
I dared not delay, immediately dragging the nearly petrified Darian into a hurried retreat.

Lord Vitus slowly removed the glove from his right hand, revealing a well-maintained but large-knuckled palm.
Scorching fire elements converged madly in his palm, condensing in an instant into several fist-sized, explosive fireballs radiating terrifying heat.
As if tossing stones, he hurled these fireballs one after another, with pinpoint accuracy, at the body still trying to "speak."

Amidst the violent explosions, Karl's remains were utterly destroyed.
His head shattered, his chest exploded, limbs snapped and flew apart, his charred skeleton disintegrated. Finally, his ruined spine could no longer support anything; the entire charred corpse completely collapsed, scattering into a pile of smoking, sparking cinders in a human shape.
...Even so, his eyes remained fixed on us until they were completely burned away.

Staring at the human-shaped ashes on the ground, Darian suddenly looked up. His bewildered gaze shifted between me, the lord, and those "things" still dancing merrily on the dance floor.
As if suddenly recalling something extremely terrifying, he muttered in a dry, hoarse voice,
"I remember now... that name... I saw it in my father's study... in that forbidden book... Yes, that's right, ten years ago... the night the nameless demon led the beast tide..."
Darian's voice grew softer and softer, almost vanishing into the air.
But his fragmented words struck my heart like a heavy hammer, instantly plunging me into an icy abyss.
Charred houses... fallen corpses... Father's unrecognizable, torn face...
Nameless demon? The night the beast tide came?
Why... why mention that damned night, of all times, in this bizarre place?!

Lord Vitus put his glove back on and said,
"That's correct, my son. You remember."
"Adam, you listen carefully too. That so-called 'nameless demon' ten years ago was not a member of the Demon King's army, nor did it come for invasion or destruction. Its true purpose was a book it carried with it."
"It was an absurdly ancient, strange book, covered in layer upon layer of ancient magical protections, written in the language of the ancient demons."
"According to the mages' arduous translations, it was a book of prayers—or rather, a book of ritual instructions."
"It meticulously detailed a forbidden ritual, claiming that if it could be completed, a long-forgotten ancient deity would descend upon the mortal world once more and bestow upon the ritual's executor... a 'perfect' body."
"And this deity's true name... is as we unfortunately heard just now."

Perfect body...
This goal is almost identical to what Necross seeks with the 'Three-Eyed Ritual'!
I felt my voice go dry.
"Your Lordship... that book... do you still remember the specifics of the ritual?"
The lord shook his head.
"Apologies. I had that book burned. To this day, the only thing I can recall about the ritual itself is a single sentence written on the book's title page."
"'Gather the Three Eyes, find the messenger between the living world and the netherworld, and the master of the stone coffin will cast a glance.'"

Gather the Three Eyes... find the messenger between the living world and the netherworld...
Along with the lord's answer, that slimy, cold, nauseating sense of foreboding crawled up my chest again, tightly coiling around my body, almost suffocating me.
I had thought that night ten years ago, those monsters and calamities that killed my father and destroyed my home, had long since faded with the passage of time.
But they hadn't. They had merely lain dormant.
Now, some dark and terrifying connection was pulling me back, drawing me closer to its source.
What the lord described is undoubtedly the 'Three-Eyed Ritual.'
The only slight difference is the need for a 'messenger between the living world and the netherworld'—and there's no other candidate for this messenger besides Necross. Close enough.
...Wait, could it be that Necross was also in town that night?
But Mr. Wilson clearly investigated the town records; there was no mention of it at all!

Just as my mind was in turmoil, filled with shock and doubt, Darian suddenly seemed to grasp a lifeline. A sickly excitement appeared on his face as he exclaimed,
"Father! We must be in that so-called netherworld! I remember, that book also recorded a method for the living to escape the netherworld!"
The lord said,
"Precisely. One need only find a bottle of holy water personally blessed by the Star God. Follow its guidance, and one can return to the world of the living."
My heart immediately sank to the depths.
"I'm sorry... perhaps the two of you don't know yet. The holy water in town has been destroyed... not a single bottle remains."
The lord smiled and pointed to the platform suspended high above the center of the dance floor.
Only then did I notice that on one of the chairs lay a crystal.
The lord said,
"Adam, you must not forget. This festival began under the witness of a Star God priest."
"That priest possessed two crystals serving as sacred relics of the Star God, their effects comparable to holy water. One was used as the 'Star God's Eye'... this year's prize. The other, he left on the platform."
"As long as we can obtain that crystal, we can escape this place!"