The Moon City. From the buildings—many with weathered, yet remarkably sturdy—many humans emerged. Some were clearly deformed, others had begun to transform. They exchanged glances, each noticing a certain bewilderment on the others' faces. The solar festival was still two or three months away. Why had the High Priest summoned everyone to the plaza? Was something truly amiss? The residents of the Moon City, filled with concern, apprehension, and confusion, moved through the streets toward the single plaza. At that moment, the platform was empty, and the summoner had not yet arrived. Organized by their respective districts, the residents gathered in orderly groups and began to murmur among themselves: "Why hasn't the High Priest come yet?" "Doesn't he enjoy waiting, doesn't he dislike being waited upon?" "What could have happened to warrant such a sudden call to all citizens, not just the guards?" ... Among the voices, at the summit of a tall tower near the square, the high priest Nym leaned against the wall, gazing at the square, his expression twisted as he endured something within. His gray-white hair lifted, black short hairs sprouted across his face, and his flesh between the ribs and waist pulsed, forming swollen masses. These unusual changes came and went, as though Nym were suffering recurring episodes—both strange and terrifying. After more than a minute, Nym finally calmed down, exhaled deeply, and wiped the cold sweat from his forehead. He had just been fighting off the madness accumulating within him. In fact, regardless of the extraordinary path taken, the higher the sequence, the more pronounced the tendencies toward madness and the non-human—these tendencies gradually surpassed human nature itself, requiring external anchors to maintain sufficient balance. Normally, during sequences 4 and 3, this situation isn't particularly evident. But as one reaches the Angelic level, even with sufficient anchors to "stabilize," one still periodically slips into dark, negative, or transformed states—having to endure and confront them alone, waiting for them to ease. It's like a sacred, dignified presence that appears perfectly fine most of the time—responsive to your prayers, engaging in normal conversation, even sharing a few jokes—yet at certain moments, retreats into a dark room, hides in the shadows, sheds its outer skin, reveals a brooding, intense demeanor, and manifests signs of madness. Nim, however, has accumulated toxins, pollution, and madness from regularly consuming monster flesh, and thus experiences these struggles even at sequence 4. Of course, sequence 4 and 3 individuals who haven't developed their skills through consistent practice or rely on time or luck will also encounter such challenges. Once stabilized, Nim turns and departs the room, appearing directly on the elevated platform at the center of the plaza through a portal of illusion. With all the discussions now settled, the residents of Tsukiyomi cast curious and uneasy glances toward the high priest. Nim surveyed the room and spoke directly: "The hunting party led by Adal encountered a stranger." A stranger! The residents' eyes widened instantly, as though a thunderbolt had struck directly from the heavens. For two thousand years, Tsukiyomi had not seen a stranger—well, not a rational, communicative human being, not a monster. Nim took a silent breath and continued: "He called himself a missionary spreading the radiance of the gods. He caused noticeable changes in that gray-white mist. He cleared the accumulated pollution and toxins within Adal and his companions, and treated their bodily transformations." As Nim nodded toward the side of the platform, Adal and Sin, hidden in the shadows, immediately crossed the rows of torches and joined him, demonstrating with their own conditions the very things he had just said. "Hmph..." "By the gods!" "Are these Adal and Sin?" "They truly... they truly..." A series of exclamations burst forth, interwoven with astonishment and disbelief, as if the emotions themselves had taken tangible form. Adal and Sin exchanged a glance, took a few steps forward, and then recounted their entire experience with the hunting party in full detail. As they heard the flickering light emerging from the darkness, the radiant cross, the staff that healed mutations and illnesses, the gray-white mist parting to form a grand gateway, and the hunters' expressions of joy and well-being, the residents of Tsukiyama gradually fell silent. Among them, some had shed tears without realizing it—tears born of profound exhaustion and intense suppression, finally seeing a ray of light. These tears carried a gentle, slightly salty sensation, flowing down their cheeks, tracing their lips, and falling to the ground. Others who remained rational and alert raised their arms to express their thoughts: "Could that missionary be a peculiar creature from the depths of darkness?" "Have Adal and Xin already been influenced or taken over, explaining their current behavior?" When the wave of questions subsided, Nim spoke calmly and clearly: "I have examined them, and also tested them with the seals—no abnormalities have been detected so far. I will have them remain at the Black Tower for at least fifteen days of observation." "After making the commitment, Nim paused and said, 'The missionary named Gerem Sparo will meditate and refine himself in the area of gray misty vapor. He allows us to go there to experience the radiance of the divine being he worships and to receive the corresponding teachings. Each day, he will perform purification and healing during the peak lightning hours.' 'All are welcome to join, but they must register in advance, follow the established schedule, and refrain from acting independently—otherwise, they may disrupt the city's defenses. Those who go will be isolated for fifteen days upon their return, just like Adal and Xin.' The residents of the Moon City remained silent, looking at one another, uncertain. At that moment, Rus, who had returned to the city to inform the High Priest but had not received purification or healing, and another member of the hunting squad stepped forward: 'High Priest, I would like to go!' 'Very well. I will lead this group tomorrow,' Nim nodded gently, agreeing." He had intended to bestow a name upon such a team, but kept coming up short with suitable descriptions, and eventually just let it pass. In his heart, he actually had a name—though he dared not voice it. It was: The Pilgrims. With Rus and others leading the way, several residents of the Moon City stepped forward, expressing their willingness to take the risk. As the frequency of lightning rose from low to high and a new day dawned, the Moon City team—comprising seven or eight people—carried animal-skin lanterns and began their journey through the darkness, heading toward the edge of the gray-white mist. After countless shifts between dark and light, a flicker of fire suddenly appeared in the eyes of Rus and the others. It was a small bonfire, and on the other side, Germán Spáro, dressed in strange garments and wearing a strange hat, sat holding a long, dark iron skewer, carefully roasting something. Around the bonfire lay the bodies of numerous monsters, each adorned with all sorts of strange appendages. Some were pale and plump, as if a gentle tap would cause a liquid to burst forth; others had a dark base, intricately patterned with blood-colored filaments and streaks of fat; some were speckled with golden spots, and the lids atop their bodies were as large as a human palm. These appendages clustered densely across various parts of the corpses, creating an eerie yet alluring beauty. A few steps forward, the high priest Nym noticed that Gelmán Spáro was roasting one of these oddities—drops of fat cascaded down, sizzling in the flames, enhancing the light and releasing a rich, enticing aroma. Gurg, the residents of Yueling instinctively drew in their saliva, their appetites surging with an irresistible intensity. Every cell in their bodies cried out in unison: I want to eat! I want to eat! Give me something to eat! Klein, seated on a stone, lifted his head and pointed to the vibrant growths on the bodies of the monsters around him, speaking in a low, steady voice: "They're called mushrooms, and there are different varieties. If you'd like, you may gather and eat them yourselves, but avoid the completely black ones. They must be thoroughly cooked before you can consume them; otherwise, you'll suffer a dreadful curse." The high priest of the Moon City, Nym, paused and spoke on behalf of the others: "We would like first to hear the teachings of your Lord, to feel the radiance of His presence." Klein nodded gently, rotating the long skewer he had summoned from the historical fissures, and said: "You may sit and listen." When the seven or eight residents of the Moon City had settled opposite the fire, he spoke with solemnity: "I come from the 'Hall of the Giant King.'" This was a term familiar to all the residents of the Moon City; their spirits instantly brightened, and they shifted their attention from the food sizzling over the fire to Gelman Sparrow. Next, Caine described the condition of the Silver City and the situation beyond the land of curse, as he had done before, and recounted the ruins of city-states he had encountered along the way. The residents of the Moon City listened, sometimes moved to tears, sometimes filled with yearning, sometimes stunned, sometimes deeply touched, overwhelmed with sorrow. Halfway through, Caine suddenly paused, withdrew his long, iron-black stylus from his hand, and brought it to his mouth, biting off a mushroom. The rich, juicy flesh dripped out, warm and soothing, bathing his mouth. ——After six months in the land abandoned by the gods, Caine had long since overcome his initial aversion to mushrooms. Indeed, Daniz often had to carry out tasks assigned by him, and could not always prepare carefully prepared offerings; the gaps in their meals were thus filled with mushrooms. Satisfied, he closed his eyes, then offered the iron-black stylus, smiling and saying, "You might want to give it a try." The High Priest Nym was still hesitating, but Rous had already reached out, expressing gratitude as he plucked a mushroom and brought it to his mouth. He ate too quickly, and the heat briefly scorched his oral cavity—yet as his expression twisted, it suddenly settled into stillness. Then, one by one, his features relaxed, unfolding into a state of deep enjoyment, delight, and yearning. In the end, tears welled up in Rous’s eyes, and with a low, trembling voice, he said: “This… this is the most beautiful, the most beautiful food I have ever tasted.” Even through generations, as the texture of food had changed, humanity had always struggled to adapt to that toxin and that frenzy, constantly craving, yearning for fat. At that moment, every resident of the Moon City heard the depth of Rous’s emotion.