By the bonfire, a gaunt zombie sat, its soulless crimson eyes staring at the two of them. It seemed as if the roles of host and guest were reversing at this moment, until a voice rang out in Lena’s ear. ·Thin-skinned humans, greetings. "Psychic!" Anna stepped back. Lena took two steps forward: "You’re not a zombie; stop playing games." ·No, thin-skinned humans, I indeed am a zombie. This is the hundred and something winter I’ve seen in this world spoken of in the book, and the first time in forty years since I’ve seen humans who are not my kind in this city devoid of outsiders. The zombie seemed to think the shock wasn’t enough and raised its left hand—on which only the pinky, index finger, and thumb remained. "You... you are a zombie?" Anna turned to look at her master: "Anna, this..." "Perhaps we can communicate." After Anna said this, she turned her head to Kunta: "Kunta, have you seen this creature before?" ·I have, it is also an Apprentice of the Mentor, Mr. Kunta. ·Speaking of which, you mentioned the Mentor. Do you know the Mentor? Are you his later Apprentices? It has been a long time since the Mentor last visited Kunta, how is he doing? "...The Mentor has been very busy; we haven’t seen him for a long while," Anna told a kind lie. The Mentor had already left this world, and Kunta, who may linger in this world for a long time, did not need to know the truth, which could bring her sorrow and lead to distortion. ·Is that so... The Mentor once said every fifty years he would return to see Kunta. What year is it now? Mr. Kunta said this year is the forty-ninth. Kunta seemed to be calculating the years, but Wraith had absolutely no talent for math, and Anna could only watch her miscalculate over and over again until Lena spoke up: "This year is the forty-ninth, Mr. Kunta is correct." ·Is that so, then I will soon be able to see the Mentor again. The little maid seemed happy as she said she wanted to clean the next level in anticipation of the Mentor’s return, then she slipped back into the walls. The old zombie Kunta expressed his thanks. "Wraiths would have no memory of time, such a pitiful child. She should have had the loveliest life, favored by the Mentor..." Anna remembered from the diary how the Mentor longed for Kunta; if it hadn’t been for that accident, maybe Kunta would have been the best host for that child. Unfortunately, Fate is so unrelenting. So Anna thought, while also sitting in front of old Kunta. ·You are the only outsider who does not fear me, aside from my fellow Apprentices. Even though others have been here, I had no choice but to fight them to the death. "What are you guarding?" Lena stood behind Anna, observing the zombie, noting its tattered but body-covering garments. ·The Mentor’s room... The Mentor must have passed away, hasn’t he? Upon saying this, the zombie broke into a smile. ·Don’t lie to me, I am not a Wraith who is ignorant of time. "Yes... we are following his journey, hoping to find out what the artificial deity he mentioned in a diary really is," Anna truthfully admitted. ·Artificial deity... I have never heard the Mentor speak of it, but I can feel you are not lying. So... The Mentor eventually abandoned the notion that everyone could become dragons and wanted to use a deity to fight against the Evil God... Indeed, the Lord of Justice is a living example, no matter how much flesh and blood humans sacrifice, they cannot fight these monsters that have transcended the world’s fetters. Kunta fell silent after saying this, then looked at Anna. ·You want to enter the Mentor’s room, find his diary, deduce where he might have appeared from it, and where he established Academies; you want to find all the information about the artificial deity, right? Kunta’s query was met with a nod from Anna, prompting the zombie to stand up and reach into the bonfire to pick out a piece of firewood. Only then did Lena notice that the bonfire wasn’t actually burning; it was a Psychic Flame. "Why do you use Psychic Flame to light up this dark hall? I remember you should dislike fire," Lena queried. ·Yes, as a zombie, I detest fire, but the Mentor once said that civilization carries on through fire, just as charcoal serves as the pen to record history. The zombie walked over to the wall and used the Psychic Flame to light two torches, then tossed the torch back into the bonfire. The old zombie pushed open the previously closed door, then wiped the wall. Light shone forth from the room. Anna and Lena stared in awe at the entrance to the ancient hideout behind the zombie. ·Welcome to the ancient hideout established before the Great Destruction Era. Old Kunta said this, pressing a button in front of him, and as Anna and Lena watched, the great door slowly opened. "There is no mention of you among the Eleven Sages," Anna for the first time addressed a zombie with respect. ·Because I am the unrecorded eleventh, not meant to be written into history. Initially, I was just an evolved simpleton who stealthily listened to the Mentor’s lectures in the outskirts, caught by humans, about to be executed when the Mentor noticed the tears in my eyes. He asked me if it was knowledge I yearned for... I said yes, confirming with a nod.