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In a land of death where even Transcendentals struggled to endure, a gentle nun appeared. By all logic, it was clearly a monster in disguise and should have been attacked immediately, but Keter did not move a single inch. He didn’t blink. He didn’t breathe. He didn’t even think—his gaze remained fixed on the nun because both his body and soul were screaming a warning that the slightest wrong move would mean death.
She looked harmless. But the mere act of her lips parting made Keter feel as though his heart would burst from tension.
“You are a being that should not exist in this world.”
“…!”
The moment she finished speaking, Keter clutched his neck in agony. His face turned pale in an instant, as though something were strangling him. Yet nothing was there. No one was gripping his neck, nor was he doing it himself. It was her will. With nothing more than the words “should not exist in this world,” she was guiding Keter toward death.
Keter raised his hand and pointed at her. Hundreds of Tusks, each possessing overwhelming piercing power, shot forward. But they passed straight through her body.
Is she nothing more than an illusion?
“You cannot kill death.”
The nun stepped closer and gently brushed Keter’s cheek. The faint warmth of her touch made his mind reel. If his concentration faltered even slightly, he felt certain his very soul would be erased.
Looking at him, clinging on with sheer will, she spoke...
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