In a perfect world, you start by relying on your own strength.

Nine o'clock in the evening.

The bells of the Dawn Hall rang precisely on time, and the heavy, golden alloy doors slowly swung open to both sides. Dim light slanted across the cold floor, casting several long, narrow shadows. A group of people dressed in long robes and wearing gilded masks emerged from within.

Deep within the hall, a faint, ethereal chant flowed slowly, its solemnity imbued with a breathtaking reverence.

Vatican was draped in a long robe, which shrouded her in shadow, revealing only her face, which was usually hidden behind a mask. Her face was delicate and exquisite, as fragile as a porcelain doll, lacking some of the coldness of the Lightbringer and possessing more of a fragile beauty.

The cool touch traveled along the alloy floor, up to her bare, white toes, and spread all the way to her heart.

At this moment, she was no longer the aloof, cold, and strict Lightbringer, but simply an upper-class citizen who was acting on orders and stepping into the Hall of Dawn.

The chanting around them grew clearer, carrying an almost hypnotic rhythm that echoed repeatedly in the empty hall.

Vatican stepped barefoot onto the cool alloy floor, each step so light it was almost silent, the hem of her robe sweeping across the ground without stirring up a speck of dust.

The figures wearing gilded masks stood on either side, like silent sculptures, their gazes falling on her through the masks, devoid of warmth, only a kind of almost sacred scrutiny.

She lowered her eyes slightly, not daring to meet those gazes, nor daring to look at the passageway shrouded in light deep in the hall—the end point of the breeding mission, and the indisputable duty that all citizens under the lighthouse must fulfill.

Once a Lightbearer, she wielded the power of discipline, judging the mortals and overseeing order, as cold and indifferent as a heartless gun.

But now that she has shed her identity and disarmed herself, she truly understands that in the face of the so-called "righteousness" of the Lighthouse, even the high-ranking citizens and the Lightbearers who wield the law are nothing more than pawns arranged in a game.

A chill crept into her body from the soles of her feet, causing her to instinctively shrink back.

The masked figure beside him slowly raised his hand, making a "move forward" gesture. His voice, filtered through the mask, sounded low and muffled.

"Vatican citizens, follow the guidance of the lighthouse and fulfill your mission of reproduction—step forward."

Fanti clenched her fingers hidden under her robe, her nails almost digging into her palms, but she did not resist. She simply walked step by step into the depths of that halo of light.

Her long robe slipped silently with each step, replaced by a simple, cool fabric that hugged her body and accentuated her figure.

The next moment, a gilded mask was handed to her. She raised her hand to take it and slowly covered her face, completely obscuring her delicate, porcelain-doll-like features.

The cold metal against her skin echoed the chill in her feet, isolating her from her last vestiges of emotion.

The chanting suddenly rose in pitch, sounding like a hymn, yet also like a judgment.

"Click—"

The alloy doors slammed shut, completely isolating the inside from the outside into two separate worlds.

The room was empty and deathly silent, with only a bed shrouded in a light gauze curtain and covered with a dazzling gold sheet in the center. Several figures in long robes stood guard in the corner, and behind the gauze curtain, a figure that was not particularly tall stood quietly, as if he had been waiting for a long time.

"You all get out."

Behind the veil came a familiar voice that made Fanti freeze instantly.

But the guards in the corner remained motionless, like soulless sculptures, standing silently without showing any intention of retreating.

The next moment, an even colder voice slowly emerged from behind the veil, carrying an immense sense of oppression: "Get out of here, all of you!"

This time, the people in the corner finally paused slightly.

After a few breaths of silence, they slowly bowed and silently retreated one by one towards the side door, the sound of metal boots scraping the floor gradually fading away.

Finally, the room fell completely silent.

Only Vanti remained, along with her figure behind the veil.

"Come here and take off your mask."

The voice behind the veil remained indifferent, revealing no emotion whatsoever.

Fandi bit her lower lip tightly, her face beneath the mask already tinged with humiliation and bitterness. She paused slightly, but ultimately walked over step by step, never raising her hand to remove the mask.

Perhaps she wanted to preserve the last shred of dignity as a Lightbringer and a member of the upper class, or perhaps she simply didn't want this mortal, whom she had once looked down upon and despised, to see her in such a wretched state.

She lay down on the bed, closed her eyes tightly, and her heart pounded wildly in her chest.

Even through the thin fabric, she could clearly feel a gaze upon her, unhurried yet scrutinizing, as if examining an object.

The next second, a warm and powerful hand suddenly reached out and firmly grasped the gilded mask on her face.

There was no rough tearing, just a gentle pinch and twist.

"Click—"

The hard metal shattered with a crack, and fragments slid off, revealing a face that was exquisitely beautiful to the point of being eerie, yet now etched with humiliation and tension.

Fanti's eyelashes trembled violently, and she tried to turn her head away, but a hand gently pressed down on her chin. The force was not strong, but it carried an inescapable suppression.

She was finally forced to open her eyes, only to be met with a calm yet unfathomable gaze.

The person before her was no longer the commoner she had once arbitrarily scolded and judged.

Shi Geng stood by the bed, looking down at her with indifferent eyes and a tone so calm it was almost cruel: "So it's you, Lord He Guang Zhe."

The once-shining ray of light now lies on a bed in the Hall of Dawn, his mask shattered, his dignity gone, and he has no right to even resist.

Vatican's lips trembled, her voice hoarse, yet she still clung to the last shred of her superior pride: "Shi Gen... don't go too far... this is just a mission from the Lighthouse..."

"Task?"

Shi Geng chuckled softly, his fingertips gently brushing the edge of her shattered mask, the cool metal shards brushing against her delicate skin.

Looking at Fanti's panicked face, Shi Geng suddenly felt a sense of boredom.

The once aloof Lightbringer was now filled with fear and humiliation. This state of mind did not arouse his interest at all, and only made him feel bored.

He withdrew his hand, took a half step back, and indifferently shifted his gaze away from her, his tone devoid of any emotion, only detachment: "Get up."

Fanti was startled, his tense body instantly stiffening, and he didn't react for a moment.

Shi Geng raised an eyebrow slightly, his tone turning colder: "I have no interest in you looking like this."

She curled up, clutching her clothes tightly, feeling ashamed, angry, and bewildered.

The arrogance, coldness, and majesty that once characterized them shattered more completely at this moment than the mask itself.

Shi Geng didn't bother looking at her anymore. He turned around and walked to the side, his back to her, and said calmly, "Get up. Consider this mission complete."

These words floated lightly into his ears, but Vatican was suddenly stunned, his entire body stiffening on the bed.

She had anticipated anger, humiliation, and even trampling and revenge, but she never expected such a casual dismissal.

Compared to humiliation, this complete disregard and indifference, where she wasn't even qualified to be a target, was more like a dull knife, slowly cutting away at all her pride as a Lightbearer.