At that moment, the entire core area began to tremble ever so slightly.
Richard stood in the innermost circle, not daring to use his Spiritual Vision to fixate on the major.
He could only extend the barest minimum of his Perception, to "listen" for the exact moment the major spoke.
Major Aud opened his mouth.
He called out three chanted lines, each separated by a full breath.
"You who stand at the pinnacle of the cloud-wake, who are one and the same as the wind."
The moment the first line was spoken, the stones on the cavern’s ceiling trembled slightly.
A certain higher being, residing in the extreme depths of the Curtain, was startled from its deep slumber by these words.
"...You who once carved deep valleys with a single breath."
The moment the second line was spoken, a sound echoed in Richard’s eardrums—a distant sound of wind, blowing in from beyond the mountain pass.
Mixed within that sound of wind were countless, extremely faint breaths, compressed to the point of being almost inaudible.
"You whose lungs are gone, whose bones have become a flute, who remains in the world as nothing but a breath."
The moment the third line was spoken, Richard froze completely.
He didn’t dare to move, nor did he dare to look.
A gaze fell from above.
That "above" was not the ceiling, nor was it the cavern roof.
It was a conceptual "above," the highest, most distant, most inhuman direction that Richard could barely imagine.
From that single glance, the spot where the gaze landed—and the entire area around it—was enveloped in a state of extreme compression.
The enveloped point remained motionless, while everything around it was forced to retreat irresistibly.
The air, the Ether, and the phantoms all retreated. Even the chant from the Answering Head’s lips was pushed back.
Only then did Richard understand what was meant by an "Expert."
That being’s Mysterium was the wind.
The wind has no borders, no weight, no death.
It had traveled to the extreme depths beneath the Curtain, taken out its own lungs, blown its bones into a flute, and cast away everything except its "breath."
What remained was a wisp of being, an existence equal to the wind itself.
It did not need to be found, nor did it need to answer anyone.
It only needed to breathe.
Its breathing was the breathing of this entire section of the Curtain.
Major Aud’s steel prosthetic arm, from shoulder to fingertip, was enveloped in an extremely thin current of white air.
That current of air was borrowed from "above."
As the current was borrowed, the major’s face turned ashen as stone in an instant, and blood seeped from the corner of his mouth.
He extended his hand toward the Answering Head.
The fingertip of the prosthetic pointed down.
The entire core area was filled with a ubiquitous, low-frequency wind pressure.
The pressure did not blow, did not move, and made no sound.
It simply existed.
Guided by him, that Expert gently blew a breath in this direction.
The Answering Head could not withstand this single breath.
The phantoms around him were the first to disperse.
The bird-shaped phantoms were crushed to dust within the wind pressure. The phantoms of faceless children were rent asunder.
The chanting of the Answering Group’s lead, the Harmony singers, and the Finales was completely smothered beneath the wind pressure.
No one could complete the chant of that fragment of a true name.
The channeling of the true name fragment in the Answering Head’s mouth, which was nearing completion, was forcibly halted by the wind pressure.
Leaning inside the Light Lock, Richard kept his face pointed at the ground, not daring to raise his gaze even an inch.
’In that moment, he suddenly wondered, what if one day, he reached that stage?’
’Would his lungs be taken away?’
’Would his bones turn into a flute?’
’In the end, would all that was left of him in the world be a formless wisp of breath?’
Later, Richard couldn’t recall how long the wind pressure lasted.
The Answering Head survived the initial moments, but the wind pressure had already blown him to the verge of dissipating.
The compressed airflow on Major Aud’s prosthetic arm dissipated completely.
The major staggered half a step forward and spat out a mouthful of blood.
"...Now."
His voice was so hoarse it was almost unrecognizable.
Winterworth had been waiting for those words.
This time, he didn’t need to use a burst of power; the Answering Head was already pinned down and unable to move.
Winterworth circled behind the Answering Head. The Inscriptions on his Enchanted Dual Blades lit up, and a crimson arc pierced through the Answering Head’s back.
The Answering Head’s near-dissipating human form was completely shattered by this strike.
The fragment of the true name channeling within his body dispersed.
The entire core area began to right itself.
The reflected Star Sea overhead slowly faded away.
The stars across the sky dimmed one by one, reverting to the stone ceiling of the one-hundred-and-fifty-foot-deep cavern.
The stone slabs underfoot were still there, and the activated rings of light within the nine stone circles stabilized once more.
Major Aud lowered his steel prosthetic arm.
The wind pressure on the prosthetic slowly dissipated.
The entire cavern fell silent.
"...Did we win?" Xiaoma was still kneeling on the ground. He looked up, his voice hoarse.
No one answered immediately.
Everyone was gasping for breath.
Winterworth was on one knee, his over-exerted body on the verge of collapse.
Mr. Hutton leaned on the Inscription Platform, his face drained of all color.
Mrs. MacNeil recalled the seven Spirits into her Spirit Lodging Artifacts.
Richard stood in the innermost circle.
His earlier use of Shadow Armor and the single strike of Moon Nail · Reflection, coupled with maintaining his Spiritual Vision for so long, had left him utterly exhausted as well.
But just as everyone breathed a sigh of relief, his inspiration caught onto something subtly wrong.
In the moment before his death, the expression on the Answering Head’s face was not fear.
It was a smile.
That smile was identical to the ones on the faces of the "Finales" who had been cut down—serene and satisfied.
Mr. Hutton did not sit down to rest.
The old gentleman was severely drained and trembling all over, but he steadied himself against the Inscription Platform and picked up his chisel again.
"The Seal wasn’t broken." Mr. Hutton’s voice was faint, but his hand was steady.
"But it was ’asked’ a question. It’s been reverse-infiltrated."
"The sixth through ninth rings must all be completely re-inscribed and resealed."
"And, we need to add a new node."

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