Nostalgia for places never seen, nostalgia for times never lived.

A melancholy summoned from within, almost becoming tangible.

The cause of it all—a slow, enchanting melody drifting from the top of the staircase.

It’s a sweet, sorrowful music that seeps into the heart of those who hear it, stirring hidden strings of longing and melancholy.
It’s a distant song, yet enveloping, like an irresistible call.

Strauss Wagner separates the group.

Following that melody, Kanna, Xiaikai, Welze, and Jarica cautiously ascend the right staircase, while the central path, imposing and oppressive, leads to the temple guarded by Eykad Kzordodror. The left path is designated for the remaining members.

Through the screen-spheres, Strauss watches every corner of the temple and the surrounding areas, where each remaining enemy is positioned strategically, like a complex game of chess.

He knows that one of the most formidable presences awaits them in the square of the Grand Temple of the Spider Mother.

The Black Servant, the queen’s elite. He is her champion, her strongest Servant, a bulwark she has placed for defense, certain that he cannot be defeated.

A being that embodies Azherie’s power, an adversary whose very aura slowly drains the vitality of those who dare approach, like a subtle and relentless poison.

Strauss is fully aware of all this.

Is he an invincible opponent? Perhaps. But Strauss has realized one thing: eliminating an enemy isn’t always necessary to win.

With a series of quick telepathic messages, he has divided the remaining Servants into two teams, setting a simple yet risky plan in motion.

The plan is clear. While the main force will distract and attempt to take down the remaining Servants—still seeking to obtain as many gems as possible—a small, quick, and agile team will infiltrate the square, placing the queen’s gems into the statue in the main square.

The objective is to at least equalize the number of gems and hold out until time runs out, maintaining their numerical advantage.
In this way, victory will be his.

Rero Sansanti and Franz Dadref ascend the left path.
They are the most expendable, but also the ones with the best chance of completing this ultimately simple plan.
Both possess great agility and speed. Rero can keep the Black Servant occupied while Franz positions the gems—a hit-and-run mission.

Strauss watches his pawns move, knowing they’ll need to act quickly before the Lich returns as a threat.

 

Kanna, Xiaikai, Welze, and Jarica finally climb the staircase on the right, the sweet melody guiding them growing stronger, more intimate and nostalgic.

They arrive at a minor temple, but they immediately understand that it is no ordinary temple.

It is an open space, a vast, ceilingless hall bordered by a colonnade that rises toward the expansive cavern roof. The entire setting is illuminated by the phosphorescent glow of gigantic mushrooms and bioluminescent plants that spread across the elevated rock walls, casting a soft light.

The dim glow from the mushrooms reflects over an endless field of flowers. Kanna's gaze is drawn to those flowers, their hypnotic beauty under the cavern's light making her shiver.

Before them stretches this enchanted field, composed of an incredible number of Midnight Lady blooms—a sea of flowers with petals as black as night, swaying gently in the subterranean breeze.

Their petals shimmer with a faint silver gleam beneath the mushroom light, recreating what would be their true beauty under moonlight.

The delicate, intoxicating fragrance fills the air, transporting Kanna to a distant, joyful memory.
Strauss had once gifted her one of these flowers—rare in the real world, unique, originating from dungeons and blooming only on nights of the full moon.

In this dreamlike field, however, the flowers are eternally in bloom, and their rich fragrance saturates the air, erasing the usual damp and moldy scent characteristic of the Underealm.

"Selenicereus Orchirosacea… so many of them…" Kanna whispers, lost in wonder and memory.

The delicacy and rarity of the flowers strike her deeply, and her gaze drifts among those black petals that seem to pulse in time with the melody.

The others, captivated by this enchanted sight, pause to admire the field of flowers stretching endlessly—a black sea broken only by statues and stone columns. The misty glow blurs the line between the end of the field and the beginning of the cavern’s ceiling, the so-called sky of the Underealm.

The music continues to add to this dreamlike atmosphere, and Welze, entranced by the sweetness and sorrow within the melody, wonders aloud, “Where is this lyre sound coming from? So sweet, yet… so melancholy.”

The temple seems to expand and distort, the reflection of flowers creating a hall of mirrors effect, with each column appearing suspended in the mist.

Jarica Fleubert observes every corner carefully, sensing something strange—a deliberate illusion, as if designed to disorient them.

“This temple seems to be guarded by the enemy, yet… I can’t sense any presence,” she says, trying to detect even the slightest movement within the field of flowers.

The melody intensifies, the sound of the lyre spreading through the temple like a delicate, hypnotic song that seems to brush the strings of the soul.

The voice accompanying the music is smooth and calm, tinged with a melancholy that almost moves those who listen, winding its way like a whisper within the scent of the flowers.

“You are welcome in my humble garden, Servants of my Queen’s opponent.”

Their gazes shift toward the voice.

Through the mist of the illusion, like an apparition, a figure emerges, playing his lyre with ethereal grace.

Seated elegantly upon a stone pedestal beneath the shadow of a spider statue, he plays, his fingers gliding delicately over the strings, giving the melody an almost tangible quality.

His pale, nearly translucent skin glows softly under the bioluminescent light of the mushrooms, and his long, blonde hair, swept back, cascades down his back like a wave of pale gold, lightly floating with the breeze.

His long, pointed ears bear numerous dangling earrings, which sway in rhythm with the music.

“A high elf!” Welze exclaims, visibly awestruck.

It’s the first time she has seen one of these legendary elves in the flesh. His ethereal appearance, so different from the dark elves, leaves her in a trance.

His pale, almost luminous skin contrasts with his bright red eyes, which gleam like rubies and seem to peer beyond the surface, reaching into hearts.

He wears a rose-gold crown resting delicately on his forehead, while armor of the same metal wraps around his slender form, giving him an aura of majesty that both enchants and intimidates.

The lyre in his hands is also made of rose gold, adorned with fine engravings that seem to shimmer in the light—a beautiful object that appears alive and enchanted in his fingers.

"Who are you? A musician?" Welze asks, unable to tear her gaze away from the elf.

"Faenoriel is my name. I am no mere musician but the bard of Azherie. And neither is the lyre I play a simple instrument, but you shall discover that in due time," the elf responds, his voice merging with the music, drifting across the flower field like a breath of wind.

“Does your power come from music, Faenoriel?” Welze persists, trying to understand the nature of this mysterious figure.

Kanna observes the elf carefully, exchanging a glance with Xiaikai, aware that they are facing an extremely rare class. “A Bard,” she murmurs under her breath, “a rare class, perhaps even as rare as the Summoner class,” she adds, nodding at Xiaikai in understanding.

“From music,” Faenoriel replies, his voice echoing distantly and deeply, like an ancient song, “queen of all arts, capable of reaching anywhere, even into your hearts. A word of advice, humans: abandon your quest, desist from passing through. This place is fatal for you.”

His words are accompanied by a faint smile as his fingers continue to pluck the golden strings of the instrument.

 

“Perhaps, but we cannot heed your words. We need the gem, the bordeaux gem you wear around your neck,” Kanna asserts, keeping her gaze fixed on Faenoriel.

 

The bard sighs, a shadow of sadness crossing his face as he closes his eyes and continues to play.

“A pity. A pity that you cannot flee. A pity that you must persist.” His voice is as melodious as it is merciless, and as he speaks, the notes of the lyre grow in intensity, instilling a sense of inevitability.

Opening his eyes, now shimmering with an impenetrable light, he adds in a stern voice, “You will have to stop here.”

 

The four women brace themselves for battle, their weapons pointed toward Faenoriel, but something begins to change.

A soft, languid warmth envelops them, as if cradled in an invisible embrace. Their movements grow heavy, their eyelids droop, and a sense of drowsiness begins to take over.

Kanna feels her body weakening, as though the very force of life is being drawn from her with every note. Her legs give way.

“His music… don’t listen…” Kanna shouts, trying to rouse her companions.
She brings her hands to her ears, attempting to block out the hypnotic sound.

 

Faenoriel laughs, a gentle and almost affectionate sound. “It’s useless.”

“Futile to try. Futile to resist. You can cover your ears, close your eyes, but my music will reach you still; it’s more than just sound.”

His lyre now weaves a song that grows sweeter yet relentless. “Sleep, sweet maidens. Sleep with me in a quiet, melodious slumber. For you, I’ll compose a gentle lullaby on the lines of this staff,” he chants, as though casting a spell with his words.

An illusion appears—a staff of light, on which the notes are visible as if they were solid, real objects.

One by one, the four women fall to their knees, unable to resist.

The melody slips through like a narcotic, slowly leading them into surrender.

The music becomes a cradle, and their strength leaves their bodies like autumn leaves carried away by the wind. Even their resolve wavers, and visions of dreams they cannot have begin to dance before them.

“An eternal sleep, dream of what might have been,” murmurs Faenoriel with a compassionate expression. “This is my gift to you.”

“No…” Kanna tries to resist in vain as her consciousness slips away, accompanied by that sweet sound.

 

*KATABOOOOOMMMM*

 

Suddenly, a thunderous explosion shatters the hypnotic concert within the temple.

The blast echoes like thunder off the cave walls, shaking the city's very foundations.
A column of smoke and debris rises in the distance, where the city’s immense gate stands.

The shock startles Faenoriel, interrupting the music and breaking the spell.

 

The bard rises abruptly, visibly surprised, as the four women awaken from their stupor.

Faenoriel stands up in disbelief, looking toward the distant horizon, the melody replaced by the sounds of screams and chaos coming from the city.