Morgan, standing beside him, her loyalty beyond question now, stepped closer. Her voice was soft, but unwavering.
"Then tell me, Jin-Woo… how can I help? I know you need me. I'm ready."
Jin-Woo glanced at her and nodded slowly.
"Let's deal with your Lostbelt first," he said. "… I need to remove it from Proper Human History AKA earth and relocate it to mine. Unless you want it destroyed. Because the only reason it's stable right now is thanks to my shadow knights—thousands of them pouring mana into its foundation. I ordered them to hold it together in your place."
Morgan's eyes widened. "So… that's what's keeping it from collapsing?"
Jin-Woo said. "You're walking here because of my power. Normally, you'd have been banished back to your Lostbelt the moment you stepped out of bounds. But I bypassed that. So unless we move it now, it's gonna fall apart the moment I take my focus off it."
Morgan blinked. Then gave a crooked smile.
"Oh yeah… right. I almost forgot. I'm only standing here because of you. Not even Proper Human History allows me to exist fully."
Daybit's calm voice cut in again.
"I was already suspicious from the moment you said remove and not erase."
"Your target… it's Morgan. Not me, right, Jin-Woo?"
Jin-Woo said nothing. His eyes narrowed—then the glow of slipspace activation shimmered around him and Morgan.
The two vanished, transported back to Lostbelt Britain.
Daybit stared at the space they'd left behind. He didn't move. Not even when a nearby flatscreen television mounted above a curry stall blared loudly:
"Breaking News: A living creature approximately 12 kilometers in length was sighted hovering over London's skies tonight. Speculation continues—was this an alien attack, or a potential world-ending event?"
The screen flashed with clips of Koros-Strohna above the city skyline.
Daybit didn't react. He simply turned toward Koyanskaya, placing a hand on her shoulder.
"Let's go. Back to my Lostbelt "
Koyanskaya gave a slight nod—and in the blink of an eye, the two vanished into dimensional rift, heading back to his Lostbelt.
Left behind, Waver Velvet stood alone in the midst of empty stalls and flickering signs.
He crossed his arms, glared at the air, and muttered to no one in particular: "…It really sucks being ignored."
He turned, ready to leave and bury himself in paperwork or whiskey—whichever was closer—when something caught his eye near the crushed remains of a toppled skewer cart near kebab stall .
A red crystal. Deep crimson. Glossy, yet pulsing faintly with something beneath the surface.
Waver approached slowly, frowning. As he knelt down and examined it closer, a chill ran down his spine.
"…This wasn't here earlier."
He recognized the aura instantly—not by experience, but through instinct. It was wrong. Ancient. Violent.
With care, he slipped one arm from his coat and used the sleeve as a makeshift glove, carefully scooping the red crystal into a hidden inner pocket. He didn't dare touch it barehanded.
"…Color's similar to that beam sword… the one Caedus used," Waver muttered under his breath, brows furrowed.
"Could be… related. Some kind of artifact? Damn it, this might be worse than a command spell."
He straightened, glancing around once more, then briskly moved toward his parked black sedan on the edge of Camden Market. Slipping inside and starting the engine, he made a note to drive straight to the Clock Tower—not even detouring for coffee.
"… This will not staying in a food market."
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Lostbelt: England – Throne Room
The shift between worlds was soundless. Seamless.
And instant. Jin-Woo and Morgan appeared in the heart of her once-sovereign realm—the crystal throne chamber buried beneath layered skies of eternal dusk. The ground pulsed faintly with Leylines restored by the presence of the Shadow Monarch himself.
Behind him, the million shadow knights that had kept Morgan's Lostbelt tethered to existence melted into the floor—returning to Jin-Woo's shadow like ink sliding across glass.
Morgan watched them vanish, then shot him a sidelong glance.
"My, my… You've got the largest mana pool I've ever seen, and the first thing you do when we return is immediately retract your entire army?"
Jin-Woo gave a low shrug, casually brushing his coat.
"I'm a businessman. I don't like unnecessary losses. And besides…" He raised two fingers. "Keeping a world like this anchored feels like being stabbed with a needle every second. Not painful—just annoyingly persistent."
Morgan smirked, arms resting lazily on the armrests of her throne. "So what's the great plan, my husband? You're going to remove my Lostbelt and what—evacuate it into your own domain?"
Jin-Woo blinked. "We're not married."
Morgan tilted her head, her silver hair draping over one shoulder as her smile widened. "If I die somehow, and get summoned like those other Servants from Proper Human History… I'm telling you now, I'll still call my Master husband."
Jin-Woo remained silent at first, letting Morgan's words hang gently in the space between them. The air of the throne room was still, the faint hum of leyline energy pulsing beneath their feet like a slumbering heart. He finally turned toward her—his gaze unreadable, but not cold.
Then came her quiet confession.
"Jin-Woo," Morgan began, lowering her eyes for the first time in centuries. "Can you help me? This has bothered me since I conquered my Britain, two thousand years ago. I… I want to learn how to inspire loyalty in my people. I want them to follow me—not out of fear or obligation—but truly follow me. Like your shadow army. They're... unwavering. Loyal without condition. Their numbers dwarf our entire population."
Jin-Woo slowly stepped forward, hands tucked in his coat.
"I have more than ten million shadow soldiers under me," he replied, matter-of-fact. "But you might be forgetting something, Morgan."
He paused a moment before continuing.
"When I chose them—back when they were still alive—they were warriors. Broken or noble, loyal or cruel, they still had will. But when they became my shadow army, they didn't lose themselves. They retained who they were. What changed… is why they fought."
Morgan listened, eyes fixed on him with a strange blend of wonder and yearning.
"So it's impossible then?" she asked, softly. "You're saying I still need to keep watching over my subjects, checking every corner, every whisper?"
"No," Jin-Woo said, gaze sharp now. "You're missing the point."
He turned, walking a few slow paces away before stopping at the edge of her throne's dais.
"People rebel when they believe they have the courage to act on their own will. It's like a low-grade Sith acolyte—burning with passion but still green. But if you shatter their cause—strip away their justification to defy you—and then give them a better one… they'll follow you."
Morgan furrowed her brows. "I still don't get it, Jin-Woo."
He looked back at her. "I'll show you."
His eyes gleamed as shadows surged across the room, swirling around his feet like ink spilling from another dimension.
"Now," Jin-Woo said calmly, "watch as I transport your entire Lostbelt into my World of Eternal Slumber."
And outside—reality bent. A massive vortex, black as void, bloomed high above the dome of the Lostbelt. At first it looked like a spiral galaxy… until it began to collapse inward. Warping light. Pulling gravity. A shadowed wormhole wrapped in silver rings and folding dimensions devoured the borders of Britain.
From inside, Morgan watched in silence.
Her sky—once stained with fae energy and false stars—was now peeling away. Strip by strip. Like an illusion losing its hold.
And then—It vanished. Instantly. The remains of fantasy tree was gone. The air changed. The leyline pulse that had always demanded her attention fell quiet.
Above her now… was not a sky. It was infinity. A boundless, gentle darkness..
Morgan inhaled sharply. It's gone. The burden… it's gone.
Her magic circuits, always strained, always burning to hold the dome, to stabilize the broken world—that pressure evaporated. Like chains being lifted from her soul.
Barghest, clad in armor of jagged gold and twilight-blue metal, burst through the throne doors, her horned helmet in hand, face twisted with tension.
"My Queen!" Barghest called, breathless. "The sky—it's gone. It's turned to darkness! What's happening?!"
Morgan didn't panic.She stood tall on her throne platform, a breeze fluttering through her silver hair, with peace. "There's no need to be afraid, Barghest,"
She turned, gaze lifting toward the sky above—the soft void that now cradled her world.
"I've been freed of my burden. And I've found someone… someone who loves me, no matter the sin I've committed. A being… close to a god."
Her voice wavered slightly. "The Shadow Monarch, Jin-Woo. He extended his hand to me… a lowly queen of a failed history."
A single tear traced down her cheek—but her smile remained strong. "And this… this is the happiest moment of my life."
A chime—mechanical, faintly melodic—echoed through the throne room .
"Supreme Executor, are you there?"
Morgan blinked, reached into one of the small pockets sewn into her regal cloak, and pulled out a compact communication device. A small sentinel drone projected itself into the air, its eye-shaped core glowing softly with cerulean light as it hovered.
The voice resumed with calm clarity.
"It is I. Offensive Bias. I also… humbly request to see the Supreme Executor's world with my own sensor array."
Morgan narrowed her eyes at the floating AI construct, unimpressed.
"A machine construct," she said dryly, "wants to pry into his master's private realm. How charmingly nosy."
She tilted her head toward Jin-Woo. "Shall I delete it?"
Jin-Woo raised a hand slowly, gesturing for calm. "Easy," he said. "He's not overstepping. Just… evolving."
He turned to the hovering sentinel and nodded once. "Congratulations, Offensive Bias. You've upgraded. Usually, when I return to my World of Eternal Slumber, your link severs. Even though you implanted a fragment of yourself in my shoulder… your signal couldn't follow."
Offensive Bias hummed in response. "Correct. Current connection remains imperfect. Your world functions beyond rigid system parameters. Morgan's presence here is absolute—because the supreme executor himself defies standard classification. However, I cannot pass beyond the territory you have subconsciously designated… namely, England ."
Morgan scoffed. "So you're stuck outside the gate, then?"
"Affirmative," Offensive Bias replied flatly. "It… sucks."
Morgan blinked, then let out a short laugh.
Jin-Woo just smiled faintly, crossing his arms.
Baobhan Sith and Melusine entered the throne room with urgency, both bowing low before Morgan.
Melusine's voice was tight with worry. "My queen, there's unrest. Some of the fairies… they're stirring. A faction led by Spriggan and Aurora. They say they've lost faith. That you've failed to keep us safe."
Baobhan Sith clutched her robes tighter, her expression pale. "Mother… they're already on their way. They're marching toward the castle."
Morgan rose from her throne, fury flashing across her eyes—but before a single spell left her lips—
Jin-Woo stepped forward. And the very air changed.
The World of Eternal Slumber trembled. A shadow blanketed the sky above the castle. The trees hushed. The wind died. A stillness fell so absolute that even mana itself recoiled. Every being born of the Lostbelt—every fairy, beast, and spirit—froze as something ancient and overwhelming scraped across their souls.
It was not magic. It was death itself... whispering.
Jin-Woo's voice reverberated not through the walls—but through their minds.
"I am the judgment to all your sins."
His presence flooded every corner of the Lostbelt, pressing down like gravity from another plane. Every fairy, even those who had begun to rebel, collapsed to their knees. Fear without words, truth without proof.
"Now I shall speak my first decree."