Inside the artificial labyrinth, another Dark Faction meeting was convened.
Everyone had only just taken their seats when someone couldn't wait to start a fight.
"Valletta—how are you going to take responsibility for this defeat?!"
For this decisive battle, the Dark Faction had prepared countless trump cards.
For example, the Familia of Apate had forged a brutal weapon: by forcing demi-spirits to become weapons, then brainwashing and conditioning adventurers, they assembled "Demi-Spirit Troopers"—soldiers with terrifying regeneration who feared neither pain nor death.
As Apate's only surviving follower—and as the evil god's priest—Baslem possessed the authority to command those troopers.
After so many years of cultivation, every living Demi-Spirit Trooper had advanced to Level 5.
Apate's Familia now had twelve of them.
Twelve Level 5s.
And then there was Rudra's Familia, which had used secret arts to tame large numbers of monsters, keeping them penned inside the artificial labyrinth.
If those monsters were unleashed in full, Orario's defenses would be put through a hellish trial.
Before the battle, the Dark Faction's executives had been itching for blood.
They were all eager to crank up the difficulty for Orario.
And yet just now—after realizing they'd been ambushed—Valletta had ordered an immediate retreat.
In Valletta's eyes, it was a strategic withdrawal: a warrior severing an arm to survive.
But in everyone else's eyes… it wasn't that they lost.
It was that they'd been made to lose.
They hadn't even properly fought. Only a few slow-to-escape stragglers died. How could that count as a loss?
They hated Finn for ambushing them—but they hated Valletta's order even more.
Unfortunately, Valletta's hatred outstripped theirs.
"You're asking why I retreated? Because there's a mole!"
Valletta looked like she wanted to slam the table in half.
Faced with her rage, even the one who'd accused her first shut up.
Not because Valletta was strong enough to silence them—
But because she wasn't wrong.
Valletta kept roaring.
"Why did Finn know we were going to launch a surprise raid to seize the trigger device?!"
"Why were the Firestone bombs completely useless?!"
"Why was the method of entering Knossos exposed—and then that damned Riveria blew it up?!"
"Only executive-level people know that kind of critical intelligence! So who leaked it?! Tell me!"
Eyes bloodshot, Valletta stared at her "comrades" one by one.
Firestone explosives—and Knossos, the artificial labyrinth they used as their base—were both trump cards prepared for this war.
If even that had leaked, then this wasn't some ordinary mole.
Valletta already knew she'd guessed wrong.
If there really was a mole, their goal wasn't a power grab.
Their heart was already standing with Orario.
Meaning… Orario's undercover agent had infiltrated all the way into the Dark Faction's top ranks?
When no one answered, Valletta couldn't help glancing back at her own patron god behind her.
The spy she'd planted in the Guild had always been cautious—dutifully doing the surface-level work, keeping their head down.
Only after years undercover did they transmit the most crucial intelligence at the most crucial moment.
Such extreme caution was meant to evade divine detection.
But the Dark Faction had gods too. If a spy had climbed into the executive ranks… would a god truly not notice?
"Valletta, you know me," her patron god said lazily. "Even if I told you everyone here is loyal, you still wouldn't believe it."
The evil gods were delighted by the spectacle, laughing as if they were watching a comedy.
If the Dark Faction won, they'd get to watch darkness swallow the world.
If Orario won, they'd still get to watch their "children" die.
As evil gods, no matter the ending, they could grin and enjoy the finale.
So even if a god didn't specifically preside over deception, their words were never truly trustworthy.
"..."
Valletta couldn't bring herself to trust her own god, either—so she had nothing to say.
Most gods were thrill-seekers, coming down to the mortal world purely for entertainment.
In that regard, every god in the Dark Faction was untrustworthy.
Among gods, the one whose words carried the most weight… was that righteous bitch.
To hell with it. Just end it already. I'm tired.
That impulse flickered through Valletta's mind—then she crushed it.
She hadn't destroyed Orario yet.
She hadn't plunged the world into darkness yet.
How could she afford to give up now?
"Stop worrying about the mole."
When everyone looked up at her, Valletta regained her usual composure.
"The god is right. Everyone here is loyal. No one is a mole."
Was that true?
Probably not.
But after calming down, Valletta still had no intention of hunting the mole—even if one existed.
Even if the mole was real, now wasn't the time.
This was the critical moment before the final war; searching for a traitor would only throw everyone into paranoia.
Just like Mourinho.
Valletta refused to lose to that little bastard Finn again.
So she could set aside minor details like this—for now.
Besides, the situation wasn't that terrible for the Dark Faction. They still had excellent odds.
Yes, they'd lost that clash, and their key base had been exposed. Worse, there was a risk of further intelligence leaking.
But their core strength hadn't been damaged.
Only cannon fodder had died.
Only face had been lost.
If necessary, after two days of reorganization, the Dark Faction could launch another surprise offensive.
"But the next battle cannot be lost. Could we ask the two Overlords to participate in the next decisive fight?"
Valletta looked toward the central seat.
There sat a young man dressed in aggressively dramatic, "edgy" fashion.
A god.
His name was Erebus.
Valletta didn't know what this god had done in the past—but she was certain he was terrifying.
Because two people stood at his sides.
On the left: a mature woman with long silver hair, eyes closed.
On the right: a burly man in armor, his face crisscrossed with scars.
She was the former Hera Familia's Level 7—"Silence" Alfia, a hero who had helped slay the Leviathan.
He was the former Zeus Familia's Level 7—"Gluttony" Zald, a hero who had helped slay the Behemoth.
Now, the two had joined the Dark Faction.
They could no longer be called heroes—so people referred to them as "Overlords."
(An illustration accompanied the scene: the three major leaders of evil.)
They were also the Dark Faction's greatest source of confidence.
Orario had only one Level 6—Ottar. No matter how you looked at it, he couldn't possibly match the two of them.
As legends from the two great Familias, these two also stood among the strongest of all Level 7s.
Even if Ottar advanced to Level 7 right this instant, he still wouldn't be their equal—let alone now, while he was only Level 6.
The only question was…
Why would former heroes join the Dark Faction?
Valletta had once suspected they might be infiltrators embedded inside the Dark Faction—but she quickly dismissed it.
The First Hokage never teamed up with Madara Uchiha to sweep the Four Nations.
People whose fists were the size of sandbags had no need to play spy games.
Under the executives' eager gazes, Erebus smiled, as if amused.
"We'll participate in the next war."
....
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