Upon reaching Lihai Island, the sight hit Yumigawa Senki like cold surf. A warped black fog ringed the shore like a strangling wreath. Blood slicked the ground like spilled wine. Corpses of every shape lay scattered like broken puppets. Soldiers of the coastal kingdoms were being torn apart by fog-beasts born from the mist, like wolves leaping from shadow. Behind them, a dozen-plus Dark Demon casters hurled black magic like night rain.

Overall, the island’s dead were mostly those soldiers, mercenaries, and adventurers, a tide of fallen lives. Only three or four Dark Demon bodies lay like smudges in the carnage. Who held the advantage was obvious, clear as moonlight on steel. Compared to the great empires, the kingdoms along the Eastern Moon Continent’s coast were reed-weak before a storm. Lacking self-awareness, they’d marched to a Dark Demon sub-branch and tried to crusade, like moths flinging themselves at a brazier.

On Dark Demon turf, even the empires bleed like cut rivers. Those small kingdoms stood no chance, like sand castles before the tide.

"It seems this branch’s fragment wasn’t reclaimed by that one," Senki breathed, relief slipping out like a warm wind. Guilt pricked after, sharp as a thorn. So many had answered her call and were being butchered under this ink-dark fog.

"Forget it. Let’s clear the fog-beasts and the Dark Demon first." Resolve set in her chest like hammered iron.

She drew the Sacred Life Sword. Light law gathered around her like sunrise crowning a cliff, and she rushed the beasts like a thunderbolt.

"Lightblade—Worldshine."

In a heartbeat, radiance punched through the shroud like a spear of dawn. Light-law pressed the black mist back like waves driven by wind. The fog-beasts collapsed under her strokes, like shadows sliced by noon.

"What—?! Who are you—" A Dark Demon warlock’s shock broke like brittle glass. Senki didn’t bother to answer. Her cuts were clean as falling snow. One breath, then another, and the casters died, snuffed like lamps in rain. The burst drained her a bit, an ache like cold fire. Good thing the Sacred Life Sword steadied her like a living root.

"Qianji Sister’s incredible!" Yumigawa Nozomi’s eyes shone like stars. "So many enemies gone in a minute."

"A few years ago, Yumigawa Senki was my equal," Elyar murmured, her sigh thin as a reed in wind. "Now…"

Compared to Nozomi’s worship, Elyar’s gaze was complex, rippling like water. Senki’s growth had outstripped her expectations, like bamboo shooting skyward overnight.

Then Elyar remembered Egisia Academy, and Xinuo’s guidance like lanterns in a long night. With Senki’s monstrous talent, the inexhaustible resources of the Central Continent like rivers, and instruction from someone at the Origin Realm like a mountain casting shade, an explosive rise wasn’t strange. It was inevitable, like spring thaw.

In the end, a person’s ceiling rides on birth like a boat rides its keel. Elyar felt that truth settle again, heavy as stone. Take the Mizumi Clan: born at the world’s peak like eagles on a high crag. Others could grind for lifetimes and still not reach one-tenth, a cruel daylight.

Elyar herself had gained residence on the Central Continent like stepping through an open gate. Beyond her own bright talent, the Elven Queen’s recommendation had been the decisive wind in her sails.

"Honored ones, thank you for your aid!" Three middle-aged generals, bloodied and reeling like men pulled from a storm, staggered up and bowed with lowered eyes.

"…" Senki looked over the survivors, her silence falling like ash. A thousand, maybe two thousand soldiers remained, most maimed and pale as wax. Fine. Do the good deed to the end, she thought, a calm like still water.

"Life Sword: Sacred Healing Domain."

Soft teal light flowed out like spring rain. It erased the black fog like dawn dissolving frost, then wrapped the area like a gentle lake. Under that glow, the soldiers felt wounds knit like mended silk. Strength seeped back like warmth into cold hands. The three generals nearest Senki bathed in the brightest light, their recovery quick as new grass.

Half a minute later, their injuries had vanished like dreams at daybreak. Fatigue lingered like damp clothes, but the rest was gone. Many stared, awestruck, at a miracle written in light.

"The rest isn’t your fight. Leave this place now." Senki sheathed the Sacred Life Sword, her tone cool as shade. She turned to take Nozomi and Elyar toward the Dark Demon sub-branch within Lihai Island.

"This feels improper… At least tell us your name, so we can repay you one day!" A general’s plea drifted up like smoke.

"I’m Yumigawa Senki. Don’t bother with repayment."

With that, their figures vanished like birds into cloud, leaving stunned soldiers and three speechless generals.

"What did she say… Yumigawa?!" A voice cracked like dry wood.

"Isn’t that obvious?" Another snorted, heat rising like steam. "So young, so terrifying—who but the Mizumi Clan could foster that?"

"True enough. To think we were saved by a lord of the Mizumi Clan—fortune like a rainbow after rain!"

"Same here. And she was beautiful, like moonlight on water. When that teal glow rose, I thought a goddess had descended!"

"Yeah. First time I’ve seen a woman that stunning, like a peony in full bloom."

"If I could speak with her once, my life would have no regrets, like a candle burned complete."

"You? Stop dreaming." The jab landed like a pebble in a pond.

Once men relax, their mouths run like loose reins. Words spill, nonsense and awe tangled like vines.

"Hey, shut it!" One general snapped, his tone sharp as a whip. "The Mizumi Clan’s lords aren’t for you to gossip about! Trouble starts with a loose tongue, like sparks in dry grass. Even if Lady Senki’s gone, we don’t speak freely—same as common folk shouldn’t prattle about the Emperor."

…

They moved through the deepest underground passage of an ancient building, a corridor like a throat into the earth. Soon, Yumigawa Senki’s group reached the chamber holding the fragment, a room sealed like a buried shrine.

"This demonic scent is thick, like pitch," Elyar said, her brows drawn like bows. "It’s no small thing."

To keep that hateful demon aura at bay, she laid a Wind King Ward around them, a ring like a spinning halo.

Senki did as before. She froze the fragment first, frost blooming like white petals, then picked it up. "There’s a terrifying force inside this thing, like a storm inside stone. What kind of fragment is it?"

The moment she lifted it, a chill crawled down her back like an icy spider. An ominous feeling stirred, dark as a swallowed moon, but she couldn’t name it.

"This fragment feels nasty, like rot," Nozomi grimaced, mirroring Elyar’s distaste like twin shadows.

"…Yumigawa Senki, let me look," Elyar said, voice low as dusk. "I feel like I’ve seen something like it."

"Oh? Elyar, do you know anything?"

"Let me check first." She took the shard and studied it, her gaze steady as a still pool.

After a moment, Elyar spoke, tone grave as a bell. "If I’m not mistaken, this is a Demonheart fragment. And it’s at the Demon King level."

"A Demonheart at Demon King level… Elyar, are you sure?" Senki’s disbelief fluttered like startled birds. A Demonheart of that grade would be a treasure the demon race would enshrine like a sacred flame. It shouldn’t have ended up with Dark Demon.

"I’m certain. I can feel a faint power of rules within it, like threads in stone," Elyar answered, still solemn.

"Qianji Sister, Elyar, what’s a Demonheart?" Nozomi asked, confusion clouding her eyes like mist.

"A Demonheart is what a demon powerhouse at Overdeity Level or above condenses at death," Senki said, her voice smooth as running water. "They gather a lifetime of strength, knowledge, and insight into a legacy, like a seed packed with seasons. It’s left to heirs, disciples, or kin, so their wisdom keeps flowing like a river. A recipient’s power surges in a short time to at least Overdeity Level, like wildfire roaring up a slope. It’s exceptionally precious. Normally, no race outside the demons would ever obtain one."

…