“Witch...”
Kananin Rin watched the uncanny scene with owl-wide eyes. In her experience, Witches and Yuuya with Shen Ling Zou were fire versus water. She herself stayed neutral, a reed bending in crosswinds. Yet today three arrived in a row—no, two Witches plus one proxy—to haul them from the mire, like hands out of fog. It felt absurd, like snow drifting in midsummer.
Shen Ling Zou took the gap as her fingers loosened, a fish slipping the net. He sprinted toward Yun Shi, his gaze lit like lantern flame climbing.
“Night Phantom, Night Phantom...”
Urgency flooded his chest like boiling tea. He had to go now, or the gate would slam and never open again.
He was about to reach her; a smile started like dawn. Then a bolt dropped.
Boom!
The fierce strike of lightning smashed into him, driving him back like leaves in a squall.
Moa stood wary, right hand gathering little lightning, a nest of sparking fireflies. If he stepped one more pace, she’d drop the strike without hesitation.
“Get out of my way, Witch!”
Boom!
“Let me through... ah!”
Boom!
Shen Ling Zou was already running on fumes, a wick near ash. He couldn’t weather lightning; soon he couldn’t stand at all.
“Don’t come any closer, or I’ll kill you,” Moa warned, voice like a blade iced in winter. Yun Shi rarely saw that face; it startled her like a cold draft.
“Night Phantom...”
Shen Ling Zou gazed weakly at the black‑cloaked girl, as if praying to midnight.
Yun Shi glanced at him, eyes like still water. Then she turned away within his sight and refused to look again.
That chill glance cut like frost into iron. That indifference sank deep into the young heart of Shen Ling Zou.
His chest cinched tight like a knotted rope. The sorrow, the despair, the suffocation were his alone to carry.
He hurt, utterly, like bone under ice.
“Ah!!!!”
He threw his head back and roared, a beast in a cold canyon, grief detonating in one burst.
“Zou...”
Kananin Rin had never seen Shen Ling Zou like this; surprise pricked her skin like rain needles.
Yun Shi remained unmoved, a stone under stream. She said to Moa in a cool voice. “Hold this line. Don’t let anyone from the Clan Head come over.”
After all, they were still enemies, like thorns under silk.
Whoever they were, it was the same.
“Enough talk. My turn.”
Rebecca had waited on the side too long; impatience crawled like ants, and she wanted to strike.
Yun Shi’s brow tightened; cold sweat beaded like dew on her temples.
“I’ll fight her,” someone said, voice tense as a drawn bow.
“No. You’re low on energy, and that one’s too strong. Ordinary tricks won’t win,” came the reply, firm as stone.
“But if we don’t fight, what do we do?” Panic fluttered like sparrows.
“Little Yun, I’ll go,” another voice offered, warm as a lantern.
“No. No one goes,” Yun Shi snapped, her tone a sheathed knife.
Rebecca, that girl, was terrifying in a crooked way, like a maze in fog. Her strength wasn’t raw force; it was strangeness, a null that erased all attacks. With that kind of power...
There was no room to counter, like sand against the tide.
“If you won’t fight, I’ll attack first!”
Rebecca could wait no more; Mystic Power surged through her body, coiling like violet serpents.
Just as she readied to strike, a wash of violet aura rushed in, like dusk spilling. Rebecca cut the flow of Mystic Power in an instant.
Snap!
Shaking off the sudden strike, Rebecca saw ahead a girl and a cold‑faced woman hurrying this way, like shadows crossing snow.
“Senior Mizuki!”
Moa reacted first and called out, voice like a bell.
“Sorry I’m late. You okay?” Mizuki asked, breath steady like mountain wind. Andrea followed behind, face blank as carved jade.
Rebecca watched and let a small smile bloom, a crescent under night.
More and more interesting...
