“Never thought we’d bleed so much effort, only to let Yumigawa Sumeragi slip away like rain through a cracked net.”
Seeing Rangetsu, Lixin, and Nakat walk over, Wilsar wore a helpless look, like a lantern flickering in a draft. Regret clung to him like damp fog.
“Mr. Wilsar, with your Law Realm power, Yumigawa Sumeragi shouldn’t have even lifted a finger. He should’ve been a leaf in a storm.”
Lixin’s voice was flared and raw, anger beating in her chest like drums. They’d gone all-in against Yumigawa’s group, and achieved nothing.
“You must’ve held back, Mr. Wilsar! Why would—”
Before she finished, Nakat clapped a hand over her mouth, like a lid on a boiling pot. “Lixin, how can you speak to Mr. Wilsar like that?”
“Mr. Wilsar, you must have your reasons, yes?”
Rangetsu’s gaze stayed steady on Wilsar, but his tone chilled like frost on stone. On the surface, their battle was a win; in truth it was mud on the face. So many against a few kids—yet they failed to keep even one. Worse, Basiloth Empire’s elite lay spent, their banners torn.
The uproar had washed across Sete City like a flood. By dawn, the whole nation would know their shame.
As if reading Rangetsu’s thoughts, Wilsar sighed and shook his head, like a willow in wind. “They fled ragged. We stand unscathed. To common folk, we’re the victors. The Mizumi Clan’s sacred halo cracked tonight, like a god toppled by nameless men. Once the news spreads, our prestige will swell. It might even strip the ‘clown’ mask off Dark Demon in the public mind.”
“That’s fair. Then why did you hold back, Mr. Wilsar? Spell it out.” Rangetsu’s face eased, the ice thinning.
Lixin bristled at Rangetsu’s probing tone, heat rising like sparks. She was about to speak when Wilsar stopped her with a raised hand. “Yumigawa Sumeragi’s strength exceeded my expectations. He wielded an Origin Artifact. He’s the brightest talent I’ve ever seen—lightning shaped into a blade.”
“Impossible!” Lixin snapped, her pride crackling. “One on one, he’s no match for me, let alone for you!”
“The point is, at seventeen or eighteen, he can trade blows with a high-tier Law Realm like you. At that age, you were splashing in the Element Realm’s shallows.”
Wilsar didn’t wait for her retort. “Yes, I held back. I’m not dying over an Origin Artifact. I clawed through endless battles and hardships to reach the Law Realm. My road still stretches to the horizon.”
“Aren’t you afraid of the fallout for disobeying that being’s orders?” Rangetsu’s voice dropped, like thunder rumbling far off.
“He’s Mizumi Clan-born, and a disciple of an Origin Realm existence. Strange escape arts wouldn’t surprise me. Past is past. Let’s mop up this wreck first.”
He looked over Sete City. Scars crawled across streets like claw marks; ruins gaped like broken teeth. His temples throbbed. They meant to cultivate the Basiloth Empire, to grow power from this soil. In the storm of battle, they’d forgotten to shield the city. Repairing this would devour time and coin like a hungry fire.
Then Rangetsu’s face darkened to iron-blue as he opened his magic communicator. He’d kept it off to focus on Basiloth affairs. The screen’s cold glow cut like frost.
“Why is the Mizumi Clan moving against Dark Demon after centuries of silence? Did they uncover the secret buried on the Eastern Moon Continent?”
The thought struck him like a winter gust. His body trembled, anger and fear twining like two snakes.
“What happened, Chairman Rangetsu? Your face looks bad.”
Wilsar knew at once the message was poison.
“My five branch chairmen on the Eastern Moon Continent just sent dire news. The Mizumi Clan has called a crusade against Dark Demon there. Then several empires, led by the Eastern Moon Empire, announced a joint army to purge us—an edict rolling across the land like war drums.”
He stopped, his face bloodless, a sheet of snow. Those empires had long despised Dark Demon. They held back only for fear of each other’s blades. With the Mizumi Clan leading, their scruples would melt like ice under noon sun. Dark Demon’s centuries of toil on the Eastern Moon Continent might vanish like mist. The loss could cut a third from their strength.
Worst of all, if that secret was found, Dark Demon’s plight would freeze solid. Rangetsu burned to rush there and turn the tide, to become a storm against a forest fire—but chains of reality held him fast.
“Looks like standing against the Mizumi Clan is standing against the world. Leave this to us. Go, Chairman.”
“…Fine. Thank you, Mr. Wilsar.”
Rangetsu nodded and vanished, his figure snuffed like a candle in wind.
Wilsar let out a long breath, a reed bending. “Toppling the Mizumi Clan… it’s a road without dawn. Maybe we’ll have a chance only when the Worldgate opens.”
It was like their hold on the Eastern Moon Continent—centuries of growth, swept away by a single call, a tide pulled back by a cold moon.
If the Mizumi Clan calls a global crusade, the outcome is written in stone. Dark Demon survived only because the Mizumi Clan never bothered to crush them—wolves spared by a sleeping tiger.
The greatest failure might be Dark Demon itself, eyes veiled by ideals, blind to the blade-edge of reality.
