Tiramisu's eyes drifted away from the countless screens before her. The flickering light painted her delicate features in ghostly hues as she turned toward the trio, her gaze settling on Cain and Meylin.

"So, you are the Scarlet King," she said softly, her tone neither mocking nor impressed—simply certain. "And you are the Master's first disciple."

The trio's eyes twitched in unison. None of them had expected her voice to sound like that. It was tender, melodic—almost childlike, a whisper that felt like velvet brushing against their ears. Such gentleness did not belong to a being rumored to have defeated a Neo-Angel. For a fleeting instant, their composure wavered.

Appearance meant little in the world of gods and conquerors, but even so, their minds strained to reconcile the image before them—a small, graceful furry being with a voice like silk—with the overwhelming presence they felt pressing upon their souls.

Yet, the willpower of the trio was immensely powerful. They quickly banished such thoughts, clasped their hands before them, and bowed deeply. Whatever her appearance, the aura rising from Tiramisu carried the unmistakable pressure of an Alpha-Omega Overgod. Respect was not optional; it was demanded by the sheer density of her existence.

Tiramisu did not seem to notice their brief hesitation—or perhaps she noticed everything and chose, deliberately, to ignore it. Either way, she nodded lightly, gesturing for them to rise. When they straightened, she regarded them with a calm, penetrating gaze.

"I assume you are here for the Red King's Sacred Dimension, correct?"

The words struck like thunder. Cain, Meylin, and the Enlightened One froze. Shock rippled through them—raw, unmasked surprise.

They had been careful. Painfully careful. Not a whisper of their intent had been allowed to leak beyond the innermost circle. The Sacred Dimension was not a place one shared with rivals. The fewer who entered, the less variable would be, allowing a higher chance to reach the Core—and to seize the deepest mastery of The Flow.

However, it seemed that the cat was out of the bag. Worse still, if word of it reached the powerhouses of the Freedom Path, it could ignite a scramble that would turn divine ambition into open war.

Tiramisu's eyes narrowed as she read their faces with lazy amusement. Then she smiled—a faint, knowing curve of the lips—and shook her head.

"I'm afraid," she said softly, "that if you believed the Red King's Sacred Dimension was a secret, you were mistaken. Not only we know of it—" her tone grew faintly amused, "—but the powers of the Freedom Path are aware as well."

The trio exchanged glances, grim and wordless. Their plans were unraveling before the game had even begun. The best-case scenario had been a silent descent into the Sacred Realm—swift, clean, and unobserved. Now, that dream dissolved like ash.

Still, despair was foreign to them. The Enlightened One, ever composed, exhaled slowly, his eyes sharpening as he gathered his thoughts.

"It's not ideal," he admitted, his voice low but firm. "But neither is it the end. The Sacred Dimension cannot be conquered by mere strength. To advance through it, one must understand and command The Flow. As long as we move swiftly—and their comprehension lags behind—we can leave them far behind, no matter how strong their cultivation base is."

Cain and Meylin both looked toward him, their eyes gleaming in interest. Even Tiramisu and Ikmael turned their attention to the Enlightened One, intrigued.

The Enlightened One remained silent for a few heartbeats, organizing his thoughts before continuing. He had planned to share this knowledge only once they were within the Dimension itself, but circumstances had changed.

"The Red King's Sacred Dimension," he began, "reshapes itself every time it awakens. Once it was a vast desert, another time an endless ocean, and once—" his voice lowered, "—it was nothing but the void itself. Predicting its form is impossible. Each manifestation carries new dangers, new laws of reality. Yet one truth has remained constant in every cycle."

He paused, letting his words settle.

"It is always divided into nine rings."

The air seemed to thicken. Cain, Meylin, and even the radiant Tiramisu listened intently, as if his words held the key to the unfolding world.

"As soon as you cross into the Sacred Realm," he continued, "you begin to feel The Flow. It pulses through earth and sky alike. With each ring, its principles grow denser, more intricate. To open the gate to the next ring, one must demonstrate understanding—each transition tests both insight and control."

He glanced toward his companions. "That is where our strength lies. We already possess a high degree of understanding. If we move quickly and carefully, we can stay ahead. Even if others enter, they will stumble in the first rings while we ascend toward the Core."

Cain's lips curved into a confident smile. Meylin's eyes glowed in agreement. If they could maintain their lead, even the mighty Neo-Angel from the Freedom Path would be nothing more than shadows chasing their backs.

The Enlightened One's reasoning was sound. None of the Freedom Path's champions had ever been seen within the Dimension. None had grasped its mysteries, and thus none had obtained its inheritance. They would have to start from nothing, learning The Flow through pain and failure while the trio surged ahead.

For a moment, hope rekindled in their hearts.

Then Tiramisu's voice, gentle yet cutting, sliced through the silence.

"I'm sorry to disappoint you," she said, "but your analysis contains a flaw."

The trio turned to her at once.

"There is," she continued, "at least one master of The Flow among the warriors of the Freedom Path."

Silence fell like a blade.

The Enlightened One's calm composure fractured, disbelief flaring across his features. "Impossible," he said sharply. "I have been in every opening of the Sacred Realm in the last billion and a half years. I have never encountered anyone else during those journeys. How could they have learned it if they never entered?"

Tiramisu did not answer immediately. Her eyes shimmered like twin pools of light as she studied him, then shifted her gaze toward Cain.

"It seems," she said quietly, "that just like the Scarlet King, there is another supreme genius who learned it alone. Without guidance. Without inheritance."

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