Between Yumigawa Senki and Molor lay a true chasm; even her Spacetime Spirit Domain, woven from two rare Laws, could bridge only a sliver of that abyss.
Relief flickered like a brief sunrise—Senki only had to stall, to hold back the tide with cupped hands. She didn’t have to defeat Molor.
At the start, the quirks of Time and Space gave her a thin edge, a blade of dawn. Within half a minute, Molor read her domain like clear glass.
After that, it was good only for slipping away; her evasion soared, but its bite dulled. The storm pressed, and she was driftwood in the surge.
Being hammered, forced into defense and dodge, felt suffocating. She’d never swallowed such bitter ash. The gap stood like a mountain; birth and tools meant nothing.
“Do the Mizumi Clan only scurry like rats crossing a street?”
Without the last Demonheart Shard, Molor’s Law Realm—initial stage—was unstable. He didn’t dare wield raw Law power, and Senki danced through cracks like wind in reeds.
Her silence was a cold lake; she knew he wanted her wrath. She anchored it deep, though fire licked her ribs. Rat—he’d called her clan rats.
There was no deeper humiliation—yet she endured. Titles are lanterns in fog, but strength is the sun; without it, all paths stay dark.
“This king’s tired of this cat-and-mouse game.”
Impatience rolled off him. Around Molor, thick, twisted demon pillars surged up; purple miasma spilled like ink, spreading to swallow everything it touched.
Her domain trembled like ice under spring thaw, hairline cracks spidering where the eye could follow.
I have to destroy those pillars. If the Spacetime Spirit Domain breaks— She refused to trace that thought; dread was a night tide.
Senki poured Time and Space into her twin blades until they hummed like struck glass, then blinked forward—one flash—and faced a pillar’s looming shadow.
“You still have mind to fret over other things before this king? Arrogant.”
Molor appeared behind her like a shadow off a flame. In each palm, he forged an orb—Law condensed to ruin—and hammered down.
“Damn!”
No way to dodge—she took it head-on. She unleashed both Laws from her blades; time hiccupped, space slipped, a heartbeat of stasis skewing his aim.
She seized that breath. One thrust speared the orb’s core, then steel turned to storm—slashes from every angle, blades like rain in a gale.
“Wind Sword: Counter Vortex.”
Molor dissolved every strike like smoke in wind. Senki ignited the Law of Wind on Fengyin, her blade singing, and vaulted wide like a swallow.
She hurled more than ten arcs of Sword Aura toward the pillars—perfect strikes that met her mark—and slipped clear of Molor’s snapping counter.
Then the domain frayed; she let it go, a torn banner collapsing. She swallowed an elixir and drew on the Sacred Life Sword’s healing bloom.
Her body steadied like a tree after wind, but her mind felt like cracked porcelain—one more full-power surge might shatter it beyond repair.
“...Three minutes are up. Elyar, it’s on you now.”
In that moment, Senki pinned all hope on Elyar. She’d gone all-out again and again, while Molor moved with lazy grace. Only the Elven Queen could open a path.
...
Three Sacredwood Arrows spent—Elyar watched a sliver of the demonic miasma barrier dissolve. No time to mourn the cost; she drew out a Demonmind Jade.
She poured mana in. After ten seconds, the jade sang with a young, melodious voice: “Elyar, that Demonmind Jade is for emergencies. What happened?”
“Your Majesty, it’s dire...”
No room for courtesies—Elyar spilled Molor’s tale like stones from a basket, quick and sharp.
“That’s it. Right now, none of us can match the Former Demon King. Please, Your Majesty—act.”
“Molor revived... a catastrophe.” Her voice tightened. “You’re near the demon realm, a small plane. If my true body goes, it’ll stir their nest.”
“If they sense me, they’ll learn he’s back. That would be disaster.”
Worry shadowed her tone; then—
“No choice. My avatar will go.”
Light burst like spring unfurling, life thick as rain on leaves, and a woman’s form slowly came into view before Elyar and Yumigawa Nozomi.
Her beauty was austere and untouchable, a sacred hush. She wore a simple sky-and-ivory ceremonial dress steeped in nature’s breath.
Pale-gold hair flowed like wheat in a breeze. Deep emerald eyes held gentle light. In her hand rested the Scepter of Life, said to bear the Life Tree’s core.
Though not her true body, her power was firm—the initial stage of the Law Realm, far steadier than Molor’s flickering storm.
“Are you the Elven Queen—Elunis Lingyu?” Nozomi asked, wonder breaking like dawn across her face.
“Yes, little sister of the Mizumi Clan.”
Elunis smiled and ruffled Nozomi’s cute head like petting a sparrow. Her gaze cut toward Molor and Senki—stern now, iron under velvet. “He really revived...”
Her murmur hung, and her figure vanished like a whisper in wind.
“Whew—With Her Majesty here, we’re finally safe.” Elyar let out a breath and stowed the Elven Divine Bow, then took an elixir; three Sacredwood Arrows had drained her.
“Yeah. He made us suffer; we can’t let that demon king off easy!”
Seated on the Aerucia Bird, Yumigawa Nozomi leaned forward, eager for how Elunis would school Molor, eyes bright like stars before a storm.
...
The instant Elunis’s avatar appeared, Molor felt the omen darken. No more slow grinding with Senki—he had to seize the last Demonheart Shard now.
Otherwise his Law Realm—initial stage—would keep sputtering like a flame in rain.
Just as he focused to end Senki, the Scepter of Life manifested between them, a living barrier, and erased every attack he cast like dew in sunlight.
“Molor—so you actually revived, and you dare strike the Mizumi Clan. Then today, you’re not leaving.”
Her voice came cold and clear, an icy bell across a battlefield.
