On the other side of the road, between the trees…
Lankaten and Clantine had finally arrived at the Jester's Graveyard. But when Lankaten opened the gates, he found a ruined courtyard, scattered with countless crosses — each one holding a horribly crucified beast.
Lankaten was shocked by the scene, stunned at the massacre that had occurred here. He muttered to himself quietly:
"If this isn't the graveyard… then why didn't we hear the explosions or the destruction that took place here?"
He continued, pondering:
"Could it be because of the fundamental difference in the earth's composition here? This place has roots in the old lands… that's why we can't feel anything coming from it unless we physically step in. Damn it, the rise of the crimson moon made everything illogical — even the roads and the monstrous architecture."
Lankaten walked forward, supporting the wounded Clantine, his eyes scanning the devastation around him — until he spotted two girls, one collapsed on the ground, the other trying to help her. When he looked closer, he realized who they were: Emilia and Elianora.
Lankaten rushed toward them, calling out from a distance:
"Emilia! Elianoraaaa!"
Emilia looked toward the voice while still supporting Elianora. Her face brightened with a soft smile as she recognized Lankaten.
"It seems… we finally reunited. Though each of us bears wounds."
Lankaten chuckled quietly and replied:
"At least we're still able to walk… we can make it to the Jester's Grave."
Emilia turned her gaze toward the massive gate, sorrow shadowing her face, and said:
"True… we've arrived. But I hope Germane and Ophelia are already there. After everything that's happened to us…"
Lankaten narrowed his eyes at the gate and said sharply:
"I hope so too. I need to see them."
The four hunters — battered but determined — approached the giant gate. With Emilia's help, Lankaten pushed it open, revealing the immense Jester's Grave, the largest cemetery in the Kingdom of England.
It was a sprawling necropolis of noble tombs, each decorated with a single white rose. But amidst the chilling beauty, two terrifying figures emerged, ones that seemed not of this world.
They had hollow white eyes, no mouths, and long, pale yellow hair. Their black cloaks billowed unnaturally.
One of them spoke in a void-like voice:
"None shall enter, for the Cathedral Lord of Nilkraten is about to face the Mad Lord of Nothing."
Lankaten and Emilia exchanged stunned glances. Lankaten spoke first, baffled:
"Mad Lord of Nothing? Who… who could that be?"
Emilia, focusing carefully on the figures ahead, then looked up sharply toward someone she recognized — swallowing hard:
"It must be… Germane."
Lankaten's eyes widened as he turned his gaze toward the summit of the graveyard, where Germane stood face to face with a bizarre creature, both of them emanating monstrous auras.
"Is that really Germane? His aura… it's terrifying. Different."
"Look there — isn't that Ophelia?" Emilia pointed toward another figure with trembling fingers.
Lankaten's voice was soft but filled with surprise as he answered:
"You're right… it's her."
But before these fateful events under the crimson moon, before the night fell, at the cursed dusk a few hours earlier…
Germane and Ophelia had arrived at a deep pit leading into the enormous, filthy sewers. Around them loomed a ruined Gothic palace and a house with hideous architecture.
Ophelia spoke with a quiet, almost annoyed tone, her hand resting on her hip:
"Seems we reached our filthy destination… Couldn't Faceless One pick a better place?"
Germane chuckled lightly:
"Seems the princess doesn't approve of this site."
Ophelia gave him a sweet but sharp smile, teasing:
"And you, too. You've taken off your coat and hat — just a shirt now. Looks like even the Mad Lord of Nothing is displeased."
Germane blinked, surprised by the strange title:
"Mad Lord of Nothing? Where did that strange nickname come from?"
Ophelia, without fully facing him, answered softly:
"… 'Nothing'… because nothing stands in the way of your rage. No obstacle can survive when you lose yourself. Thus, the Mad Lord of Nothing."
Then, without hesitation, she leapt into the depths of the sewers. Germane, a strange smile tugging at his lips, murmured:
"Not a bad title… In my kingdom, no one ever gave me a title."
With that, he followed, leaping into the pit and landing with a powerful splash, while Ophelia deftly dodged the dirty water.
Lifting his head, Germane found himself in a massive underground space. The standing water led to a dark abyss that whispered with voices. Two paths flanked the sides, both leading to broken gates. On the left, blood gushed out like an endless waterfall, staining the ground.
Above, creatures glared down at them from the ceiling — their white eyes glowing in the gloom. Germane smirked and said sarcastically:
"I expected filthy water and animal waste… but not this. Pure water mixed with rivers of blood."
Ophelia, still scanning the ceiling, answered calmly:
"We don't have time to focus on secondary things. There are creatures above us who would like to tear us apart."
Germane grinned wide, looking up:
"Seems the real party is about to start."
Suddenly, monsters began dropping from the ceiling — humanoid rat-headed beasts carrying swords and other foul weapons. Black, filthy saliva dripped from their mouths.
One of them spoke in a heavy, grating voice:
"No one leaves the forbidden lands alive."
Germane placed a Phantom Card on his arm, and his blade, marked by deep wounds and wrapped in a raging wind aura, appeared in his hand.
Grinning, he placed the sword on his shoulder and said mockingly:
"Is it costume day? Listen, rat-head — I'm going to destroy you and your so-called forbidden land."
From the abyss, more rat-headed beasts rose. Ophelia, too, placed a Phantom Card into the four slots in her palm, drawing out a twin-bladed sword — one blade twisted completely, the other straight.
"Looks like this party is going to be loud," Ophelia said, dragging her sword lightly through the water as she moved forward.
Gehrmane lunged toward the first monster, piercing its abdomen before slicing it cleanly in half. A second monster appeared, aiming to cut off Germane's head — but Germane dodged by bending backward and swiftly decapitated the beast.
Then, a third monster emerged from beneath Germane's feet.
It managed to inflict a minor injury to Germane's leg. Germane immediately crouched down, grabbed the monster's head in fury, and smashed it violently against the ground.
Suddenly, two more monsters appeared and stabbed Germane directly in his chest and abdomen.
The rat-headed monster spoke in a mocking tone:
"It seems you're going to die, hunter."
Germane turned his gaze toward the monster with terrifying eyes that made it recoil and drop its sword. Germane seized the monster's head and bashed it against the head of another, causing an explosion of blood like a gruesome fountain.
Meanwhile, Ophelia was fighting with a madness no different from Germane's. She plunged the curved blade deep into the monsters' bodies, slicing open their abdomens and spilling their entrails, before severing their heads.
One monster appeared out of nowhere and struck Ophelia's head with great force, but she didn't move an inch. She grabbed the monster's leg, snapped it with a sickening crack, and then cut off its head without hesitation.
Another monster swung its sword at her — but Ophelia evaded the strike, placed the barrel of her pistol directly against the monster's head, and blew it apart. The bullet pierced through three more monsters beyond.
Ophelia then blew the smoke from the barrel of her pistol, her sweet yet terrifying smile spreading across her face.
Germane, wiping the blood off his blade, spoke in a mocking tone:
"Killing these beasts was… entertaining, I guess. But we need a monster tough enough to last more than five minutes at least."
Ophelia signaled with her eyes toward a figure sitting atop the shattered, massive gate. She glanced at Germane and said:
"Seems like a real monster is waiting for us up there."
Germane looked up directly, and a crazy grin — the kind fitting for the Mad Lord of Nothing — stretched across his face.
Both of them climbed upwards. On the way, they encountered more rat-headed monsters — killing them in gruesome, horrifying ways. The waters around them became even bloodier, soaked with death.
Finally, they reached the creature sitting atop the destroyed gate.
It was a being made of pure darkness, from head to toe. Germane spoke toward it without hesitation:
"That's not a throne for you to be sitting on."
The mysterious creature turned its head slowly to face Germane and Ophelia. It had a single, massive eye in the center of its forehead — a white eye, crying blood.
The creature stood up. It was tall, unnaturally so. It opened its mouth in a grotesque manner, as if tearing apart invisible threads. Then it screamed — a horrifying sound that made the entire place tremble.
Germane and Ophelia both covered their ears against the unbearable noise. Ophelia shouted angrily:
"What the hell is wrong with this filthy bastard?!"
When the screaming ended, another version of the creature appeared beside it — but this one had its eye closed.
Both monsters produced broken swords, each fused into their hands.
Germane pointed his sword at them with chilling calmness, saying:
"Looks like you came prepared for a good fight, huh? Heh… I'll make you wish you—"
Before he could finish his sentence, the one-eyed creature suddenly appeared in front of him, striking him with such brutal force that both Germane and the beast crashed down into the bloody waters where the rat-headed monsters had fought earlier.
Ophelia rushed forward to check on Germane. Despite the deep wound in his abdomen, Germane stood tall. Ophelia asked:
"Are you alright, Mad Lord of Nothing?"
Raising his sword high, Germane shouted:
"I'm fine! It was just a light touch — and that filthy bastard will taste a hundred times worse very soon!"
Ophelia shifted her gaze toward the one-eyed creature, which was moving its head back and forth in a bizarre, twitching motion.
Smiling wickedly, Ophelia gripped her twin-bladed sword tighter, her eyes gleaming with a thirst for blood:
"My sword will drink your filthy blood until it's satisfied."