The Papal States, the capital of Tero, late at night.

In the square of the church's garrison camp, the church's soldiers carefully unloaded boxes of heavy military equipment from dozens of horse-drawn carts by the light of the torches burning around them.

The clergy of the Father's Church pried open the wooden box and looked at the muskets and lead bullets wrapped in oiled paper inside. They stared at each other with solemn expressions and remained silent for a long time.

Standing atop the bell tower of the Terreaux Cathedral, two mysterious figures dressed in grey robes gaze at the bustling crowds in the distant military camp, their expressions contrasting.

One of the gray-robed men, whose voice sounded rather old, said in a low voice: "Two thousand seven hundred Imperial military rifles of the Merie type, forty field-use turtle-type open-mouth shotguns, fifteen siege-use Lion-type heavy mortars, and countless gunpowder shells, poison gas shells, incendiary shells..."

The younger man in the grey robes said with ill intent, "Looking at those former servants of God, now placing their only hope in the weapons of demons, how do you, as a former devout believer of God, feel... Myris?"

The old man, known as Myris, slowly pulled back the hood of his robe with trembling fingers, revealing an extremely pale face.

His cloudy eyes were filled with confusion and pain: "God will not forgive this."

The young man took out a nail clipper from his robe, gently filed down the bone splinter on his nail, and said with a smile, "You really should have come with me the day I went to see the cardinal, to see how despicable and pathetic those people in the church are."

Myris turned his head and stared at the young man's face: "Cathili... no, throat bone... why did you hand over the Empire's weapons to these false believers?"

The young man, who had the face of a 'Cathili' but was called Throat Bone, glanced at Myris and said, "Isn't the answer obvious? Let the Church and Twilight City go to war and stir up this stagnant pool."

"wrong!"

Mylis raised his voice: "My gut feeling tells me that things aren't as simple as you say, and you're definitely planning something!"

Throat Bone lifted his hood with his fingers, revealing an innocent-looking smile: "Planning? The church has already fallen so low, what need do I have for planning?"

Myris grabbed the arm of the man with the throat bone, a look of tension and fear flashing in his eyes: "You and I both know! Even with these weapons, the Church is absolutely no match for Twilight City! So, the Church has already lost this battle before it even begins!"

"What exactly are you planning to do by handing over so many weapons to someone who is destined to lose?!"

With a displeased shove, Miris brushed his hand away and shook his arm: "Mind your own business, Miris. Just like we've always agreed, you help me perfect the formula for the Necromancer Tyrant, and I'll provide the necessary experimental equipment and materials to help you resurrect your son Marcos."

Myris froze, his previously stiff hand falling limply to the floor, muttering, "Marcus..."

“Marcus’s Necromancer form is slowly reaching its breaking point. His consciousness is gradually dissipating, and his flesh is beginning to rot.” Throat Bone chuckled as he played with the nail clippers in his hand. “It won’t be long before he becomes a pile of stinking garbage crawling with maggots and dies completely.”

"The only one who can save him now is the tyrant."

The throatbone turned and stared into Myris's eyes: "I gave you all the books Theodore collected, and all the notes he made. You've read them all. In those notes, the ancient sage Sutherland, who died over a thousand years ago, could be resurrected by a tyrant. What more could your increasingly emaciated son do?"

"Moreover, over the years, we have secretly dug a tunnel beneath the Supuha Mountains. We have also secretly collected samples of the tyrant raw materials stored by the Elders and successfully transported them to our laboratory."

“Right now, the technology, materials, and manpower—everything is ready.” The man with the throat bone took a step closer to Myris. “What are you still hesitating about? Don’t you want to save your son’s life? Are you willing to just watch him turn into a pile of rotten flesh?”

“I…” Myris’s features contorted in pain: “I will go to hell.”

Throat Bone suddenly burst into laughter: "Hell? If the Tyrant's necromancy succeeds, I...we will become the gods of this world, and Heaven and Hell will be trampled under our feet!"

Throat Bone rolled up his sleeves and slowly peeled the purplish-blue flesh that Mylis had grabbed from his arm off the bone.

Throwing the flesh, covered in livid mortis, onto the ground, the man with the throat bone stared at the specks of blue light emanating from the stark white bones and said in a chilling voice, "I will repay the Church a thousandfold for everything it has done to me! Not only their lives, their property, but also their honor, their beliefs, and their souls—I will bring them destruction and ruin!"

Accompanied by sinister words, the throat bone, as if in a frenzy, stretched its fingers toward its own face, tearing at its features as if ripping off a thin film.

Chin, cheeks, nose, ears, lips...

Blood, along with fascia and skin clinging to nerves, was torn off by sharp fingernails, revealing that nightmarish face of flesh and bone.

He brought his face close to Myris's, his Adam's apple bobbing, his bulging eyes bloodshot: "Open your eyes and look at me! This is who we truly are! God, the Church, the Bible, even this world, are no longer relevant to us! We represent a new form of existence, the rise of a new species! We will eventually replace all living beings and establish a new era!"

Looking at the terror so close at hand, Mylis shook his head helplessly and said, "Sometimes I think you're a complete madman, but looking back on the path I've walked, I realize that I've long since been infected by madness myself..."

His Adam's apple hung open, his facial muscles twitching uncontrollably, and his words were filled with glee: "The progress of civilization, the evolution of the times—madness is the driving force behind it all! Only with madness can one break free from the shackles of thought; only with madness can one usher in the baptism of war..."

Myris looked back at the church army's camp and lowered his voice to ask, "I'll ask you one more time, why did you provoke a war between the church and Twilight City?"

Throatbone cast his gaze further into the distance: "This war is merely the first step in my plan... Once this war is over, I will drag the entire world onto my stage of madness..."