The man before her sank into a long silence, like a lake sealed under winter moonlight.

It wasn’t the mute shame of a sore spot laid bare, but a hush shaped like cold stone.

His hand trembled like a leaf in a night wind as he stroked his cheek; his muscles rippled like tightening bowstrings, then slackened like ebbing tides.

Then laughter broke out of him, wild as brushfire on dry grass.

He laughed with feral abandon, not the blind rage of a mind gone, but the ecstasy of a theater-goer who finally sees the beloved scene bloom onstage, excitement spilling like spilt wine.

He laughed until tears rolled like glass beads, and when it finally ebbed, a crescent grin still hung on his lips like a scar in moonlight.

“You’re right. I did all this to live.”

He confessed with open hands, and his sneer answered the contempt in Adelaide’s blood-bright gaze, like thorns answering a rose.

“But my beautiful, clever fiancée, why smear it as something so ugly?”

He spoke plainly, like a blade laid on a black altar, admitting he meant to do what gods do.

He would invoke god-level power, plant his soul into Adelaide’s head, voice free of shame or doubt, like a priest who fears no thunder.

“Think it through. Where’s the harm? After fusion, the man called Follower of Pleasure dies as prophesied; his body turns to ash, his cursed soul fades like fog.

In return, the strongest Blood Mage bloodline inherits a predecessor’s millennia of craft, a pairing so perfect no living thing can match it.

Isn’t that good? We’ll stand shoulder to shoulder with the gods.”

His fervor painted a bright horizon like dawn over cold peaks, but Adelaide only gave a soft, frost-like scoff.

“‘We’? I think you mean… a Matis soul carrying every memory I have.”

Matis—he shrugged, like a fox flicking snow off its tail.

“No problem. I don’t mind hiding my true name and letting everyone call me ‘Adelaide.’”

He paused, then fixed on the silver-haired girl’s blood-washed eyes, gaze sharp as a hawk over winter fields.

“It’s underhanded, sure, but if it’s you, you’ll understand me, Jiaqi.”

You’ve gone through this before—his blunt barb landed like sleet, yet the silver-haired girl gave no answer, a still pond under gray sky.

Matis took her silence as victory; his voice climbed like an improvised hymn, high and bright.

“Oh, my beautiful, clever fiancée, haven’t you prepared for this moment just like me?”

You ran politics without sleep, like a lantern burning through fog.

You widened the peace faction’s reach within the Fana Family, easing knots between the Nacha Tribe and the Elves like fingers untangling silk.

You placed a war machine near this place, a steel dragon ready to meet Chaos head-on, so righteous Nacha warriors could rush aid to the front like a flood.

You led the building of a comms line outside the Sealing Array, a silver thread apart from ritual stone.

You barred Elf crowds from the flower-gathering ceremony in the name of fairness, a tide kept from the reef.

In the third trial, you sent that First Generation with command experience into a safe cell, so the Void Rift’s first shock wouldn’t break too many Elven spears, letting them regroup fast to dam the swell of Chaos.

“There are so many more,” he counted, fingers tapping like rain.

“How you hinted to the Elven Queen, how you sent life-saving scrolls to the First Generation inside the Void Rift’s range, how you slipped messages to your dear sister Mira by hidden paths, so she could foul my setup across the Nacha Tribe’s lands.”

He recited like a collector praising jade, admiration gleaming like dawn on dew.

But in the end, his mask slipped; his grin turned knife-sharp, and his eyes mocked like crows on a graveyard cross.

“You did so much. Don’t tell me you think you leaked nothing. Haven’t you wondered why I didn’t stop a single thing?”

The answer is fate—fate like a river no swimmer can fight.

“I wanted to see you helpless under it.”

He answered himself and laughed again, laughter rattling like dice in a bone cup.

“I remember a ‘superhero movie’ from your old world, with a line perfect for right now. How did it go…?”

——You couldn't live with your own failure

——Where did that bring you?

——back to me!

He burst out laughing, a child delighted by a successful prank, pride glittering like broken light.

Adelaide’s face stayed calm as still water, a hint of amusement like a ripple from a falling petal.

Her look made Matis tighten, confusion drifting in like mist.

She spoke unhurried, voice clean as a bell in fog.

“Matis, senior, I’ve got a line perfect for this moment too, from a ‘superhero movie’ as well.”

Her sweet, clear voice echoed in the void, a jade chime in an empty hall; the words themselves were from a tongue this world didn’t own.

——I’m not locked in here with you

——You’re locked in here with me

She smiled. Matis froze for half a breath, then laughed, amused like a cat with a mouse.

“Ha! Cute. If I’m reading you right, you let me catch you?”

Adelaide nodded, steadiness like snow settling.

“Yes. As in the prophecy, I came to kill you, senior.”

Her certainty cut like a bright blade; Matis grinned wider and started counting again, fingers flicking like sparks.

“Oh? Let’s see your chips.

That joint army you bled for now squats outside my shield, staring like wolves at glass.

The Elven Queen and the Lionheart Hero are inside the Void Rift, busy repairing the Sealing Array, hands deep in storm.

And your dearest sister is out there burning her Domain, risking her life to force a way in. Touching ‘sisterhood,’ isn’t it?

But the Void Rift ‘loaned’ me god-level power. Even if that god descended, they couldn’t crack this shield.”

Adelaide braced a hand on her knee and stood, slow and steady like a reed in wind; the smile stayed, soft as spring.

“As I said, senior, the one who kills you is me.”

“You? Ha! With those shaking legs?” Matis laughed, clutching his belly, his Nuhaman Tribe blood-scent thickening like spiced smoke meant to cloud minds.

“If you still held the Blood Moon, you might’ve been a sliver of threat.

Now you’ve got no material, and you sealed your own magic.

Even a short-legged pup could snap your throat, like frost biting a twig.”

“Admit it,” he said, mimicking her earlier tone like a mockingbird.

“Admit it, my dear fiancée. You’re cornered, a fox at the end of a snare.

I know it’s hard. You’re still resisting the world’s weight.

Don’t blame yourself; you did great.

But in front of fate, everyone’s just a gambler with no cards, a boat without oars.”

He aimed for weary gravitas, old-road wisdom wrapped in dusk; yet his small motions leaked joy, a victor’s secret fireworks.

Adelaide kept that half-smile, and her slender leg no longer trembled, calm as pine on a cliff.

“You’re right. That mischievous god gave me no chip to fight fate.

So I have to thank your generosity, because…”

Her hand slipped inside her lining like a fish through reeds.

“Because the chip came from you, senior.”

Scarlet unfurled in her palm, a crimson petal like a drop of sunset.

Matis’s delight hardened, a glaze of ice.

It wasn’t a normal petal; it was the mockery he’d once sealed with his ‘script,’ a token forged from his own flesh, an anti-counterfeit mark like a brand on iron.

And because of that, in this Chaos-choked space where external magic is smothered like candles in wind, this petal, born of him, remained an unbound offering.

He tensed, a drawn bow, then barked laughter, clapping his thigh like a drum.

He watched Adelaide trigger the sacrificial array etched into the petal and didn’t lift a finger to stop it, tongue eager to narrate.

“Oh, look at my clever fiancée’s little escape trick!

Ah, you turned it into a pink knife—adorable.

And then? You’ll stab me—me, wrapped in god-level power?”

He opened his arms, chest bared like iron plate, inviting any strike.

Adelaide didn’t step forward.

She stood her ground, knuckles white on the blood-red short sword, last material shaped into a final thorn.

Then she flipped the blade and drove it into her own chest, a plum blossom of blood opening under winter.

“You—!”

He was a heartbeat too late.

The sharp edge slid through soft skin like moonlight through silk; blood soaked her dance dress deeper red, a tide climbing the shore.

She coughed, low and muffled, and a thin crimson line painted her lips like a lacquer stroke.

Even now, Adelaide wore that same half-smile, a fox under snow.

“Easy, senior. I haven’t touched the heart.”

Her bell-like voice rasped with sand, eyes smiling like curved crescents, a gentle mask over a hard truth.

“Looks like I guessed right. If I kill myself before fusion completes, you die with me.”

“…What are you saying? Heh—heh. You wouldn’t make a call like that with no proof.

That’s not you. You’re a smart one—”

“Drop the act, senior,” Adelaide cut in, a clean blade through fog.

“It’s basic reasoning. You already laid hands on me, and as that mischievous god’s prophecy said, we’re in the fusion phase.”

That leaves two prophecies yet to bloom:

You will die.

And I’m charged by that god to stop you; until both stand fulfilled, I won’t die.

She stated the facts like stones laid in a path; Matis’s color drained like ash in rain.

“Given I can kill myself now and all prophecies must hold, the natural inference is this: during fusion your life ties to mine, a red thread between two throats.

When my blade reaches my heart, you die too.

Only then do all the prophecies close like a book.”

“The leap is big, sure, but ignore the brushwork and the lines are clear enough, aren’t they?” Adelaide said, voice light as willow.

“As for proof… your face right now is the best exhibit.”

She hooked a finger, pointing at his lost composure like a puppet with cut strings, and she laughed, soft as falling petals.

In a handful of sentences, the ground beneath them flipped like a stormed boat.

The blood-red man mouthed soundlessly, jaw working like a fish; then he bared his teeth, a wolf cornered.

“You don’t think the Savia Rose you ate will raise you from death, do you?

Didn’t that First Generation Elf tell you it’s useless on other races?”

Adelaide shrugged, casual as a breeze, and repeated what she’d told Bingxia, words light as thrown pebbles.

“Well, how would I know unless I try?”

“You—!” His eyes flared like coals, but Adelaide didn’t let him finish; her voice cut across his like thunder splitting a tree.

“Oh, elder, you said I hadn’t grasped the situation—yet it feels like you’re the one lost in the fog.”

“You keep acting like the house, reins on fate in your fist; but you’re just a gambler like me.”

Yes, we’re both gamblers, Adelaide thought, humor glinting as she looked at Matis.

“I’ve already made peace with all or nothing. Now it’s your turn—stake your life.”

“Either you keep merging, bet I’m bluffing and won’t pierce my heart. Or…”

“Bet I’m a true freak and abandon the fusion—your borrowed chaos power melts like spring snow, but you might keep a sliver of dawn.”

Blood climbed her cheeks like a rising tide—wound-fire or thrill, who could tell; either way, joy brightened her like morning sun.

Matis stared at Adelaide, a dagger lodged in her chest, smile like a crescent moon; for the first time, fear cracked his mask.

“You… you’re insane! You’ll really die!”

Adelaide tilted her head, a bird listening to distant thunder.

“Insane? Maybe.” Her grip tightened, the blade sliding deeper like winter ice into a river-heart.

“But, like you said, death feels unreal to me. After all…”

I’ve done this before, haven’t I?

Her lips curved with calm delight; blood pattered like red rain. She raised three fingers, scarlet mouth barely opening.

Three…

Two…

“Wait—” Matis reached out, lightning without thunder, but her last finger fell.

One.

The countdown ended. She laughed wild as storm-fire and drove the dagger toward her heart.

In the next breath, the void around her broke like thin glass.

Gravity returned like an old tide; weightlessness, born to spook beasts, felt strangely like home.

Her smile faded; her hand slipped from the dagger; she closed her eyes like folding wings.

The semi-transparent conduit at her lower abdomen unraveled midair, turning to fine, drifting shards.

She had won.

At the last instant, Matis failed the fear carved in his deepest soul; he broke the merge to save himself.

But Adelaide paid the price.

The crimson blade had entered her heart; not the ventricle yet, but it pierced the outer muscle like a thorn through bark.

Metal-sweet flooded her mouth, adrenaline raged like a river in flood; her limbs emptied, spells fell silent, and she kept falling.

It was fine. She would catch me.

She told herself that as a warm embrace rose like a hearth to meet her.

She forced her lids up; blue eyes washed her like lake-water.

“Mira…”

Compared to the wind howling past her ears, her whisper was fine as silk.

But she knew Mira would hear.

“Honestly… how did you end up like this too?”

Mira’s pallor matched hers, moon-pale with strain; Adelaide knew she’d been burning herself, pushing through the curse to reach her.

“Sis!”

Even at her limit, even with no strength left to halt their fall, Mira’s first thought was Adelaide; the sight of the short blade in her chest turned her face to panic.

Adelaide saw her worry and couldn’t help a small smile, soft as lantern light.

She cradled Mira’s face, spent her last strength, and drew her close.

Then, she kissed her.